Title: Chill
Author: wolfish_willow
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1696
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and co. This is just for fun and no money is made from it ;D
Warnings/Spoilers: None that I know of... Post Season 5?
Summary: For the prompt: Sam is no longer able to sleep without his angel but Gabriel has to go away for a few days.
Author's Note: This was written as a part of a drabble-prompt offer by insertcode11 and myself over on Tumblr. It stopped being a drabble pretty darn quick though, the prompt was just too good to stop. This is written for bouncyball252 over at Tumblr.
Author's Note 2: Super fast beta by the awesome insertcode11. Thanks so much! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Being alone bothers Sam in a way it never has before - he'd have thought he'd have been used to it after Stanford and the weeks he's spent without Dean in the past; both when his brother was living and not. But Gabriel seems to know - the way he always just knows things and Sam thinks he should find it annoying but he doesn't - and his angel is always there.

Even knowing this, it never occurs to Sam that he might have a problem sleeping without the Archangel next to him, a comforting line of heat pressed against his back or under his head and arm and chest when Sam cuddles close enough to tangle their legs together, Gabriel's chest pillowing his head; fingers carding through his hair and soothing him into restful, nightmare-free sleep. But Dean is in the same room with him at night and he isn't alone.

So when Gabriel snaps into the seat beside Sam during breakfast to inform them that Castiel needs him upstairs for a few days, none of them think anything of it. The Archangel leaves him with a kiss - deepening it when Dean gags across from them - and they head back to the motel, going about their day like usual; though instead of Dean going out for food runs, they order a pizza and eat in together.

Getting ready for bed, Sam strips down to a t-shirt and boxers and slips under the scratchy sheet not long after Dean turns off the light and does the same. His brother is asleep and breathing deeply with the occasional snuffle-snore within minutes while Sam lays on his back, eyes closed, and listens.

Fingers twitching, Sam shifts on the mattress and pulls the sheet up around his shoulders. The room feels colder than he remembers it being and he turns on his side, facing his brother, unsure of the reason why everything feels so uncomfortable when he'd been fine the night before. Dean is on the bed closest to the door, just like always and Sam isn't alone. So why is his skin practically crawling, fingers twitching like it does when he's left on his own?

And he's still cold.

Tugging up the motel blanket until it's draped completely over him, Sam shifts again, onto his stomach. He tucks his hands up and under his cheek, forcing his eyes closed tighter as though it can help him get to sleep faster.

It doesn't.

*

His muscles pull and ache and his eyes are gritty from staring at the blinking red numbers of the motel alarm clock when he realized sleep wasn't going to happen. The chill never ebbed through the night and Sam makes sure he's first to the shower, hoping the warmth he will seep into him from it. The water washes away the evidence of sleeplessness in his eyes, makes them easier to blink open and closed again, and when he's finally finished and Dean's banging on the bathroom door - "There better be some hot water left, bitch." - he figures it was just one of those nights.

*

But somehow it's worse the second night Gabriel's away. Sam makes sure he's wearing more than the boxers and tee he wore to bed the night before, ignoring the funny look Dean gives him as he turns out the light. Again his brother is asleep in what seems like seconds and Sam is left feeling alone in the room, still inexplicably cold. He feels claustrophobic, almost. Like the room is suddenly too small, the air thinning out yet somehow pressing him down and he knows it's crazy because he was just fine in here earlier. His brain knows that but the knowledge doesn't seem to be enough to stop his body from twitching some more, like he needs to move, to get away and he ends up tossing and turning the rest of the night, even more restless than before.

*

"Rise and shine, princess."

Dean's booted foot kicking Sam's bare one forces his eyes open, lashes sticking like glue together. His brother smiles smugly, looking entirely too pleased with himself, but Sam can't find it in him to do or say anything about it. He didn't get any sleep again and ended up spending the last couple of hours forcing his eyes to stay closed as though he could will himself into unconsciousness.

Stretching, he groans at the dull ache of tight muscles loosening and gets up before Dean kicks at him again. It's going to be another long day.

*

They end up leaving that town in the dust after Dean finds a possible salt'n'burn hunt in the paper. The Impala's engine purrs as they drive and when Sam rests his head against the window beside him and closes his eyes, he finds he can almost sleep. His brother is right next to him and a Metallica tape is playing in the background and Sam half-dozes for the first time in two days. It's only for a couple of hours, but when they stop at the next town and he isn't twitchy and feels just slightly more rested, Sam thinks maybe tonight will finally be better.

*

He's wrong. Of course he's wrong. Because tonight's so much worse.

Sam keeps his overshirt on and wears long pants and doesn't even take his socks off before he curls up under the motel's covers. But somehow he still ends up shivering. The motel room is larger than they normally get and yet it's too small; cramped, compact. He breathes slowly, in and out, with his eyes closed, determined to doze as he had in the car earlier but it doesn't work. He ends up with his arms held close to his chest, fists clenched beneath his chin and his knees bent up until Sam is sure he's in as much of a ball as his huge body can manage.

It's ridiculous how close to tears he is just because he can't get to sleep. He faces ghosts and demons and more - he helped stop the Apocalypse for God's sake. But a couple sleepless nights and Sam's closer to breaking down than he's been since the night he thought Gabriel died.

The thought of his lover has Sam biting his lip and uncurling just enough to pull the pillow his head isn't currently resting on close to his chest. It's a poor substitute for his angel and it doesn't really help but Sam hopes that if he pretends long and hard enough, he'll be able to deal for the rest of the night.

*

"You should have called me."

Sam startles at Gabriel's voice so close to his ear when he'd been alone in bed just seconds before. A hand - soft and warm and familiar - tugs him onto his back and the pillow falls from slack arms as he looks up into amber eyes that glitter slightly in dim light from the wall outside the window. The angel's face looks strange without any hint of a smirk or smile teasing at the corner of his lips. "What?" Sam asks and it comes out rougher than he'd expected even after clearing his throat of sleep he hadn't actually gotten.

His legs stretch out, no longer bent at the knee, and some of the tension he'd built up seems to melt away when Gabriel smooths a gentle hand across his chest. "I could have gotten away for a couple hours if you'd told me it would be this bad," Gabriel says and Sam still doesn't know what the angel is talking about but the press of warm lips to his temple has him sighing and closing his eyes, turning into the touch and relaxing further into the mattress.

There's a soft snap and Sam's ear is pillowed on a blazing chest, his extra layer of clothes gone - socks and all. One of Gabriel's arms is wrapped around his shoulder, holding him as close as he can get and Sam doesn't hesitate in clutching at the angel like a body pillow, snuggling in and burying his face in the crook of Gabriel's neck. His lack of sleep seems to be catching up to him and Sam is struggling to keep his eyes open. It takes some doing, but his mouth finally cooperates enough to form words, slurred as they are. "What was how bad, when?" He doesn't think it makes sense, but Sam is sure Gabriel knows what he's asking.

Fingers curl in his hair, nails lightly scraping the skin right behind Sam's left ear and Sam waits for the usual jab at how he must be a puppy if he likes getting scratched behind the ears so much but it doesn't come. Instead, Gabriel presses another kiss to the top of his head and Sam starts having trouble keeping his eyes open again. He's warmer than he's been since the day Gabriel left and - oh. His brain is sluggish and Sam knows he isn't working on all cylinders right now but his sleepless nights are starting to make a bit more sense now.

"I figured with your brother and you in the same room, it'd be okay." Sam nods because he'd thought the same thing. His nose brushes over Gabriel's pulse point but he's too exhausted to appreciate their close proximity. He inhales deeply, taking more comfort in being surrounded by his lover's presence and his own unique scent a mix of sweet and spicy, than he'd thought was possible.

He's about to open his mouth, ask how Gabriel knew - even though Gabriel always knows and it really shouldn't surprise him - or what's wrong with him but fingers moving even lighter over his scalp and Gabriel's soft shushing quiet Sam before he even parts his lips to speak.

"Just sleep, Sammy. I'm here and you don't have to worry about anything, I promise."

Sam tightens his hold on Gabriel and throws a leg over the angel's body. Gabriel's breath is warm against the top of his head, soothing, and Sam is comfortable - and not shivering from cold - for the first time in days. The next time he blinks, it's too much effort to open his eyes again and he sighs in relief as sleep finally drags him under.