#SamGabeHSAU --
Gabriel's heart is hammering. He doesn't think he's gonna be able to keep himself together in time to make it back to rehearsal tonight. What the hell was that? Since when does Sam take an interest in his love life? They never used to talk about this kind of thing. It was a verboten topic since Sam went out with Jess. When they broke up, there was a sort of assumption that Gabriel, or his friendship with Sam, had something to do with it. So they just stayed off the topic. School, TV, their families, weird ghost stories, secret dreams -- all these are safe fodder for conversation. Romance? Don't go there. Until the other day. That day Sam asked the big question. Gabriel thought it was a one-off, just to dispel the rumors, but it looks now like he was wrong.
Why is Sam poking around such dangerous territory? Gabriel's scared stiff. What if this all blows up in his face?
He'll have to tread with caution. He'll talk about the show and that's it. A reminder to Sam of what he said. No drama that's not on a stage.
--
Sam will wait. He can wait. He doesn't need to deal with this. He's lived with his feelings for Gabriel for weeks now, without feeling the need to do anything about it. And this is a really important, stressful time in Gabriel's life. Sam is the one who convinced him to do this in the first place. It would be cruel to do something to screw that up. It'd make Sam a real jerk.
But God, Gabriel's face when he talks about the play, how excited he is. Sam's fingers itch so hard to touch his glowing cheeks, to pull their mouths together. He sits on his hands night after night, his eyes glued to Gabriel's face, and it just gets harder and harder.
--
Production week is coming up. How did six weeks pass? Gabriel can't believe it. Somehow he's made it past midterms and costume fittings, somewhere along the line he memorized his lines, and everything is so exciting right now, he's more nervous than he's ever been that something will go wrong at the last minute.
"Do me a favor," he says to Sam the Wednesday before production week starts.
"Sure." Sam is full of his usual goodwill.
"Don't come to rehearsals next week."
If a morose basset hound had wandered in, it wouldn't have the biggest, saddest eyes in the room. "Why?"
"Honestly? Because you're a distraction."
The puppy eyes get a thousand times worse. "What? How?"
Gabriel frowns. "I spend the first two hours of every rehearsal looking forward to seeing you. I need to concentrate."
"Oh." A pleased flush creeps over Sam's face. "Really?"
"Really. It's a pain." Gabriel does his best to sound annoyed. But Sam is grinning at him, and for an electric instant Gabriel grins back. The air glows between them.
He wrenches his gaze away. "So don't show up. Got it?"
--
Monday of production week. They have a halting, stilted run-through of the first act. Five o'clock rolls around. Sam doesn't show.
--
Tuesday night and Sam has a test tomorrow. He couldn't go see Gabriel if he wanted to. And he wants to. But geometry is a harsh mistress. He pictures Gabriel on stage, flushed and exuberant, and it makes him both grin and ache.
--
Wednesday. Things are starting to feel like they might come together after all. Gabriel is rocking his part. Then, during act two, Vic is on stage, singing "Baby, Talk to Me":
Must you be
Oh, so far away from me?
It seems so wrong this way,
Talk to me.
And if you miss me,
Tell me so
Are you lonely?
Tell me so
Say you love me,
Tell me so
Honey,
Let me know.
Gabriel's eyes burn and he turns away from the stage. He picks up the phone and thinks about calling Sam. But he can't think of what he'd say.
--
Thursday at seven p.m. The show opens tomorrow. Twenty-four hours and all will be well. After this weekend, it'll all be over and they'll be free. Only a little while longer.
Seven-fifteen and Sam is in Dean's room. "I need you to drive me back to school," he says.
--
Nine o'clock and they're done, finally. Done and leaving, knowing that tomorrow when school is over they'll run home, take quick naps, and report back at school at six to prepare for opening night. Their last rehearsal is done.
And Sam is there.
Gabriel stands, tongue-tied, in the hallway. The others file past and are gone before Sam moves.
"I told you not to show up," Gabriel says.
"I know," Sam says. "You told me no drama before the show, too. But I don't think... No, I know I can't wait any longer, Gabe."
He keeps approaching. Gabriel is still fumbling for control over the situation, or at least his racing heart. "I'm in the zone here. You're gonna break my focus--"
And consider his focus broken, because all he can see is Sam's face, all he can feel are Sam's fingertips sliding under his jaw. His lips purse around Sam's name, but there's no air left to say it. Because Sam's lips are on his.