Where Is God? - Sabriel

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Working at the coffee shop isn't bad, especially on Sundays when it's relatively quiet so I work alone, have minimal customer interaction, and have time to breathe for once. Living with four of my siblings and constantly running about after them is fucking exhausting, physically and mentally, so I've got to savour these rare moments I have to myself.

The best part about working here, apart from the free coffee, is the fact that I have control over the music. 80s all the way all the time. It's soothing. This is my own personal heaven, where I can sing along to Duran Duran while cleaning equipment, dance while wiping down tables, and, if I feel like being productive, read over my religious studies notes between customers. In the absence of responsibility (although I do have my phone at hand, checking it vigilantly in case Castiel calls me with a problem), I discover pieces of myself I thought I'd long left behind. I quite like old Gabriel. I miss him.

It's a quiet Sunday late afternoon. There are a couple of people drinking coffee and chatting in low voices in the corner. It's peaceful, like I'm on another planet to Gabriel that's too stressed out to breathe half the time. I'm sat behind the counter, reading my school text book about religious ethics with so many out of date ideals about abortion and women's rights and same sex couples... I absolutely adore having my right to exist discussed by long deceased homophobes!

The door to the shop opens, the signifying 'ping' snapping me out of my trance. I close my text book and look up to greet the customer that just walked in.

"Moose!"

"Gabriel?" Sam says, small smile on his face as he approaches the counter. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Aww. There goes my hopes that you only came here to see me," I say playfully.

Sam chuckles. "Yeah, well, if I knew you worked here I would've come more often. Dad's at home getting drunk so, yeah... I'm going to revise here for a bit."

I frown sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Samwich."

He smiles at my stupid nickname. "It's alright. He'll be passed out by the time I get home."

I nod slowly, still feeling uneasy with concern. I hate that he's still living with his father given he's shown his capacity to abuse his sons. I'm never adequately convinced of his safety, and would adopt him into my care if I could. After all, what's one more person I have to care for?

"What can I get you, Samsquatch?"

"Uh... cappuccino please."

"Coming up."

I turn to start making his coffee, humming along to the music.

"Hey, are you revising as well?" Sam says, spotting my textbook.

I look over my shoulder and smile at him. "Yeah. I've got to the 'are LGBT+ people allowed to be Christians?' bit, which I'm loving as a LGBT+ Christian."

Sam tilts his head. "You're a Christian?"

"Yep," I say, making his coffee with more care than I would usually. "Dad was a devout catholic," Why do I talk about him in the past tense? "so we were raised devout catholics. I believe in a higher power. I'm just not a fan of said higher power," I conclude, putting his coffee on the counter for him. "Voila!"

Sam smiles at me. "How much do I owe you?"

I shake my head, grinning at him. "On the house."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm not going to make you pay for coffee when you've given me the treat of staring at you," I say with a wink.

He chuckles and picks up the coffee. "Thank you. I appreciate it."