Gabriel was a freelance artist. He preferred to sketch, but for a price, he would do any type of art. His sketchbook was filled with various people he'd seen during his time in California. As a Starbucks barista, he saw a fair amount of people. Anywhere from mothers with babies on their hips to high school kiddos making their way through finals week. They all made their way into his sketchbook. But none of them made it twice. None except Sam Winchester.

Sam was a college student at Stanford, pre-law. He spent his study time at Starbucks, where all the bustle made perfect white noise for study. He wrote thirty page essays, not bothered in the slightest by the babies on their mothers' hips fussing for milk, nor the high schoolers complaining about their finals. It was just background noise to him. There was only one thing-scratch that-person who could distract him from his homework. Gabriel Novak.

While the two admired each other from afar, their friends kept trying to hook them up. For Gabe, it was best friend Azrael Line, a shorty with auburn hair, who had a stubborn streak to rival Gabe's. She worked as a barista alongside Gabe, teasing him about Sam frequently. Her brother, Hunter, was Dean's friend and co-owner of their garage. Gabe often claimed Azrael was like the little sister he'd wanted, and she returned the feeling.

Sam, however, had to put up with Dean trying to hook him up with Gabe. Gossip had made its way through the grapevine {no thanks to Azrael}, so Sam put up with his obnoxious brother's teasing. Normally by rolling his eyes and ignoring the comments. The younger Winchester often asked Azrael about Gabe's welfare, but had never actually talked to the man himself.

~~~~~

Azrael sighed as she watched Gabe stare like a lovesick puppy at the Winchester she'd grown up with. Sweeping a stray strand of hair out of her face, she softly whacked the artist with the back of her hand. Two sets of whiskey-colored eyes locked, and Azrael smirked.

"Just ask him out already, damn it," she muttered. The slightly taller man shook his head. She cocked an eyebrow up slightly in amazement. "Gods damn it, Gabriel. I can't have you moping around while I'm trying to work. If you don't get your ass out there and ask him out, for your sake, I will ask him to the Friday night dance for you," she smirked. The other barista looked slightly horrified.

"Rae, I don't think he will." The shorter one scoffed.

"You should hear the way he talks about you when we're with Dean and Hunt," she grumbled, pushing past the artist. She made her way over to Sam, her coffee in hand. Business was slow today, she noted as she sat across from the potential lawyer. "Heya, Samster," she said, smirking. The Winchester looked up from his laptop, his hazel eyes meeting her whiskey-gold ones.

"Hey, Az. What's up?" Azrael's smirk widened into a grin.

"I was wondering if you'd do me a favor." Sam started shaking his head.

"Last time I did something for you, Az, Cas didn't talk to me for nearly a month."

Azrael chuckled. "His hair looked great, though, did it not?" Sam tilted his head to the side quickly.

"It did. But still, I stand by my earlier statement. I will not do you another favor." Azrael pouted.

"Please?" She pulled the puppy eyes that he'd taught her. He sighed in resignation. 'Sometimes, being the youngest in the group has its perks,' she thought to herself. "Will you take Gabe over there to the dance Friday night? He won't stop staring over here and-frankly-it's getting on my nerves." Sam's eyes widened.

"Wh-Why are you asking me for him?" Azrael scoffed again.

"Because the ass doesn't have the guts to do it himself. Hell, he's scared to even talk to you, Sam. You intimidate him," she explained. Sam sighed.

"Alright. And only because you are like my sister." Azrael whooped in glee.

"Thanks, Sammy!" She called as she walked back to the counter.

"You've got yourself a date to the dance," she whispered as she passed Gabe. He flushed darkly, and Azrael smirked. "Go sketch or whatever it is you do," she muttered, looking at the clock. "I'll clock out for ya."