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Sam was miserable. Not hangover miserable or barfight miserable or got his ass kicked by a wendigo miserable. No, Sam had a cold. Which to him, was much, much worse. He could deal with scrapes and bruises. What he couldn't deal with were watery eyes and a sore throat and a half runny, half clogged nose. This was his own, portable hell. Dean wouldn't even let him come on the case. He had barely been able to leave Sam alone and when he did it was with a year's supply of tissues and a pile of blankets and a pack of water bottles and basically anything Sam could ever need to get over this cold. He'd basically bought out the pharmacy. But it still wasn't working.
Sam had just begun to drift off to sleep when he heard the familiar flutter of wings. “Cas?” He sniffled, not bothering to open his eyes.
“You cheating on me, Samsquatch?”
Sam sat up as quickly as he could and reached for his gun, but it flew across the room. “Ah, ah, ah. You know those things don't work on me, come on. Guess the cold really is messing with that big brain of yours, huh?”
“ Gabriel. ”
The short Arcangel stepped into view. “You called?”
“What are you doing here? You were-”
“Dead? I was. And now I'm not. Any more questions?” Gabriel smiled, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. But Sam wasn't taking no for an answer.
“Yeah but...I mean, I saw you. How did you- I mean who…?” He wasn't sure how to finish the question.
“Well it's a good thing I am back, you clearly need my help. I mean look at this place! Twelve days before Christmas and you don't even have a tree up? Boooring.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, and suddenly a Christmas tree appeared, followed by presents and various strands of Christmas lights and garland around the house.
Sam sighed. “This is a motel, Gabriel, not exactly the place for Christmas spirit. Could use a Christmas miracle, though. Can you heal me?”
“Yep.” Gabriel sat down and began opening christmas presents, shredding the wrapping paper and leaving it in a mess on the dirty carpet. Sam looked at him for a moment, expectant gaze turning into one of annoyance as he realized Gabriel was completely oblivious. Or just trying to piss him off.
“Uh,” Sam cleared his throat. “Would you, please?”
“Nope. Hey, this one’s for you.” He started over to the couch and Sam groaned.
“Come on, I said please. Why not? Wait are those...moose antlers?”
“Don't be ridiculous, they're obviously reindeer antlers. And why would I? You were gonna shoot me.” He finally reached Sam and bent over him, putting on the headband. “You're actually not so ugly up close like this, Samsquatch. Hey, do you have a fever? Because I can definitely take your temperature if you want.” Gabriel winked and Sam blushed even harder.
“Shut up.” He mumbled, turning away.
“Hey, wait.” The angel was practically on top of Sam now as he grabbed Sam's chin so he was facing him. “Just this once, because you're sick.”
“What are you-” He was cut of by Gabriel's lips against his.
Maybe colds weren't so bad after all.