Reading Between The Lines (Sabriel)

Chapter 8

When Sam wakes up, he's not alone. His first thought it to reach for his gun, the way he's been trained to do for most of his life. When all he finds under his pillow is the soft mattress, it all comes flooding back to him. The cage. Lucifer. His numerous fights with Dean. His new job. The Trickster...

Oh, shit, the Trickster.

What did Sam do?

He sits up, stifling a yawn, and looks around. His room seems mostly untouched, which is nice. It seems the Trickster didn't pull out any of his signature tricks while he was asleep. But that doesn't change the fact that Sam is butt naked, sitting in bed with the Trickster.

Who is also butt naked, but that's the least of Sam's worries right now.

"'Morning," Gabriel says.

"What time is it?" Sam asks, already looking at the clock. 7:30. "My shift starts in half an hour. Shit, shit, shit, shit..."

"Hey, Sam, relax," the Trickster says. "Here." He snaps his fingers once, and they're both clean and fully clothed, "Look at that. You're already set for work."

Sam runs a hand over himself, checking his clothes to make sure there's no trick here. They certainly feel like real clothes. They look real, too. It looks like the Trickster is genuinely trying to help, which just proves that he doesn't get it.

"Don't do that," Sam snaps, a little colder than he means to be.

"What?" The Trickster recoils at that. "What did I do?"

"I'm done with this whole supernatural thing, remember?" Sam says. "I'm done. I quit."

The Trickster raises an eyebrow. "All I did was clean you up a bit. You were gonna have to do it at some point, anyway. I just saved you the time."

"Well, don't."

The Trickster stands up, eyeing the boy warily. "If you think last night was a mistake, that's fine. I get it. But you could have at least been upfront with me. Just because I know when I'm not wanted doesn't mean I should have to put the pieces together myself."

Sam's not the only one whose voice turned cold, and he feels a pang of guilt at that. He wasn't trying to kick the guy out -- not out of his room or out of his life. But with everything that's going on in his life right now, the Trickster's feelings are on the bottom of his priority list.

But he was right about one thing: Sam's just about out of friends, and he needs to take what he can get.

He sighs. "Wait."

The Trickster raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Sam says. "I am. I'm just a little stressed out right now, but I do appreciate the company."

The Trickster just raises the other eyebrow, too.

"What are you waiting for?" Sam asks, exasperated. "A declaration of my undying love for you? 'Cause I'm sorry, but it looks like you've come to the wrong place."

"Oh, god, no, I wasn't looking for a Shakespeare play," the Trickster assures him. "Just to know where we stand, because I'm getting a hell of a lot of mixed signals right now."

"I don't know where we stand," Sam admits. "Where do you want us to stand?"

The Trickster scoffs. "Where do I want us to stand? You were about to throw me out and then immediately turned around and asked me to stay. Where do you want us to stand?"

"I don't fucking know," Sam says. "Friends? Just like before?" Seeing the Trickster's dubious look, he asks, "Is that even on the gameboard anymore?"

"If you want it to be, then sure," the Trickster says. "I could use a friend, and it looks like you could use one, too."

"Then it's settled," Sam says, though he's not quite confident in that. "Friends?"

"Friends," the Trickster agrees. "Now, can I address the elephant in the room?"

"Look, man, I really have to go to work," Sam says, which, technically, is true. His shift starts pretty soon. But he really just wants to get out of here before the Trickster brings up whatever he sees as the elephant in the room -- which, honestly, could be a lot of things, and he's not looking forward to discussing any of them.

"You drove me here, remember?" the Trickster says. "It doesn't take 20 minutes to get to work. Trust me, you have time."

Sam presses his lips together in silence. He can't fight with that logic, but, at the same time, he doesn't want to have this conversation right now -- or have any serious conversation at any time. There's enough gravity in the rest of his life that he'd like to keep his conversations with the Trickster mostly fun and lighthearted.

"Last night," the Trickster says. "How are we feeling about that?"

"Good question," Sam says. "How do we feel? Here, let's start with you."

The Trickster rolls his eyes. "I brought the idea up, Sam, remember? I was fine with it. I'm fine with doing it again. I'm fine with never laying a hand on you. Just say the word."

Sam thinks this over for a few moments. The Trickster's answer was somehow the most helpful and least helpful response he could have gotten. This is really all on him, and he doesn't know how the hell he feels right now.

So he just goes for it.

"It was pretty distracting, I'll give you that," Sam says. "Let's see how it plays out next time we run into each other. Maybe things'll go back to normal. Maybe I'll need another distraction. Right now, I just want to take things one day at a time, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," the Trickster says. "See you later, Mr. Samman."

Sam gives him a small smile. "See you later."