Angels don't generally sleep. Sloth being something of an artform though, Gabriel did it when he didn't have anything else to do... Or when he just had a wild night of passionate sex so good that he was half-certain he made it up.

But no, that number of hearts currently hovering around the bed probably said otherwise.

He raised a hand and slowly started pointing to them. "You and you and you and... All of you. Are sickos. Friggin' vouyeristic hearts."

Sleep/sex-drunk don't make for a very coherent archangel in the morning.