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unityghost · 4 years

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Shadow Play

Part 26 (generic quip about having no life) of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, my angst-tastic series about what would have happened if Gabriel had survived season 13.

Shoutout to Banjo the cat for helping me write this. She pressed many a random key with her paws, and voila. A fanfic. Thanks, Banjo.

Although Sam knew that Gabriel preferred to keep himself busy, there could be no denying an underlying sense of duty.

“You put up with me,” Gabriel had told him recently, with an air of factuality that twisted Sam’s stomach. “Come on, you can’t expect me to not pay my dues.”

Then he had gone back to his pile of crumbling manuscripts and continued to scrawl English translations onto a legal pad.

The attitude and dedication were not new, but Sam felt disturbed by how straightforward Gabriel could be about this sometimes: now and again, he spoke of his own burdensomeness with no emotion at all.

To Gabriel, Sam understood, that sense of being in the way could not have been more real. Once in a while, it seemed that he was simply trying to accept it - or, worse, that he already had.

One Saturday, early in the morning, Sam found Gabriel already in the library, poring over a stack of volumes which were organized in what looked to Sam like senseless chaos but which Gabriel seemed able to interpret - judging by the way he picked up one book, wrote something down, then leaned across the table to grab another and flip through its pages before readily picking up another book from what seemed an otherwise random location.

“Why are you up so early?” Sam asked Gabriel.

Gabriel did not look up from his work. “Why are you up so early, champ?”

“Are you, you know, all right?”

“Of course I’m all right.”

Sam waited for him to say more. When Gabriel remained silent, Sam said, “Yeah, okay,” and left.

He returned half an hour later with two cups of coffee from a few blocks away.

“Here,” he said, pushing one across the table.

Gabriel looked surprised. “Heya, what’s this, for me?”

“Yeah. You know that sort of upscale place a few blocks over?”

“If by ‘upscale place’ you mean ‘hipster meeting house,’ then yes.”

“Well, it’s a little overpriced, but it’s good stuff. I got you a cappuccino that might taste more like a milkshake based on how much sweet stuff I asked them to mix in. Seeing as you’ve been up since - ”

“Never mind how long I’ve been up. Thanks; that was nice of you. But I thought you didn’t like beverages in the library?”

“Yeah, not when my brother is the one with the beverage. Thanks for all the work you’ve been doing lately.”

Gabriel shrugged. Sam looked more closely at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Slowly, Gabriel lifted the cup and took a sip. “It’s pretty great.” But there was a peculiar expression on his face that, as Sam studied it, grew less peculiar and more familiar: the crease in his brow, the tightness of his lips.

“Gabe,” Sam said.

“What?” Now Gabriel’s eyes were bright and hyper-alert. “What is it?”

Sam sat down across from him. “Something’s bothering you, huh?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but please don’t lie.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “I’m tired. Ever since that djinn managed to cop some archangel blood in Idaho last week, I’ve felt like I’m recovering from the flu or something.”

"If you're so tired, what are you doing up?"

Gabriel didn't answer.

Sam sighed. “It’s just us, you know. I don’t think anybody else is even awake.”

“Oh please, Cas doesn’t sleep.”

“Well, he’s not here right now, is he? Gabriel, please just don’t feel like you have to hide anything.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “There’s some stuff that’s hard to explain.”

“Maybe I can help if I have some idea of what’s going through your head.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make any more sense to you than it does to me.”

“Try me.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s …” Gabriel struggled for a moment. “It’ll make me seem, um …”

Sam thought about suggesting an adjective - childish, psychotic, whiny - based on the laundry list Gabriel had already given him, but decided to wait instead. Sometimes, he observed, their conversations began as morbid rounds of Mad Libs.

“Ungrateful,” Gabriel finished.

Sam frowned. “For what?”

Gabriel avoided Sam’s eyes. “Everything. Asmodeus saw me as a Veruca Salt type. Never satisfied - always demanding more.” He swallowed, and Sam noticed that he had lost some color in his face. “Once in a while, though, he would surprise me with something nice. Food, or drink, or something to keep me warm. I guess maybe he wanted to prevent future bitching from his petulant toy.”

“I don’t know; sounds more like he was messing with you in some way, Gabriel.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t think of you like that, you know. Neither does anyone else.”

“If I’d been good enough,” Gabriel continued, as though Sam had not spoken, “He wanted to spend time with me - or so he said. He used phrases like ‘good boy’ and ‘sweet pet’ and - well, sorry if you already had breakfast. Look, Sam, the thing is, there’s no pleasure like the pleasure of a beaten dog whose owner sidles in to stroke its bruised spine.” Gabriel paused. “Except you’d think I would never want him near me, wouldn’t you?”

Sam hesitated. “Well, yeah.”

“Mm-hmm. But there was so much relief in those moments - relief at finally seeing proof.”

Sam squinted. “Proof?”

“Proof that what he was saying to me was true. You know, that I was lucky to be there with him - because he was the only one who knew what was good for trash like me. And because he was the only one who knew what that trash was good for. It was a healthy reminder that if I wasn’t his plaything, I’d be useless. And …” Gabriel broke off, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. “It was my rightful place, Sam. Well - I know now that it wasn’t, but how was I supposed to figure otherwise when I was still down there with him?”

Sam wondered if Gabriel really did know otherwise now, but dismissed the thought.

“And,” Gabriel barreled on, “The euphoria of his affection was always punctuated by a sense of - of ‘Don’t screw this up, Gabriel, not now that he’s shown he can love you.’ But of course I always did find a way to screw things up. There was no pleasing the guy for more than a handful of hours at a time.” Gabriel lowered his eyes, surveying the coffee cup in front of him. “I tried harder at that than I’ve ever tried at anything else, Sam. Chalk it up to having no grace, no power. Or … or maybe I was just that bad at being good enough.”

“Hey.” Sam softened his voice. “I didn’t bring you the coffee because I want you to do anything for me.”

“I get it, I get it; you’re no Asmodeus. You really think I deserve good things.” Gabriel’s smile was cold. “Sam, do you really want to know what shot through my head when you brought this in?”

Sam nodded.

“I - ” But Gabriel paused. Seconds ticked by. Then he said, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense even to me.”

“Were you afraid, maybe?"

“I don’t think so, no.”

He was right, Sam thought: Gabriel did not look frightened. This time, there was something else laced through his features, something Sam had been meaning to bring up for a while.

Tentatively, Sam spoke. “Hey, um, Gabriel - do you remember that night a few weeks ago, where you woke up from the nightmare?”

“Oh, you mean that one nightmare I had that one night, that one time, amid countless hours of dreamless slumber?”

Sam sighed. “When you woke up screaming and everybody came running in.”

“No, Sam. Please, paint a more vivid picture so I can add it to my scrapbook.”

“Well, do you remember how I asked you if you … you know … if you missed Asmodeus?”

Gabriel bristled. “Yes. I remember that.”

“I mean …”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted.

“Gabriel,” Sam said quietly, “Sometimes I have the sense you wish that … that he could be the one to come and help. Not me.”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me sound?”

“Um … sad?”

“No. Thankless.”

“You’re still worried about being ungrateful?”

“Uh, yeah, no shit.”

“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong. I get it - sort of. I mean, he did give you everything you had, right?”

Gabriel barked what sounded less like laughter and more like a shriek of terror. “And he made mighty sure I knew it. Sam, I don’t want Asmodeus - I want you.”

In that moment, Sam thought he finally understood why Gabriel was disturbed and disgusted by the word “want.” There was something horrendously, nauseatingly powerful about how it sounded coming from Gabriel's mouth.

“Look,” said Gabriel, “It’s just - I - his love was in short supply, and he wasted it on me time and again, and I - I let him down.”

“He didn’t love you, Gabriel.”

“Don't, Sam. Don't say that, all right? I don’t like when you tell me he didn't love me.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe, but it’s true. You can’t think of his treatment as love.”

Gabriel turned away, but not before Sam saw tears in his eyes.

“Crap,” Sam whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to think that the way he handled you is the way you deserve to be treated, that’s all.”

Gabriel shook his head and muttered something.

“What?” asked Sam.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Um - I failed him.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I tried to be enough.” Gabriel seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Sam now. “I tried to be worth what he was offering.”

Sam reached out and took Gabriel's hand. It was an old gesture of comfort, one that Gabriel almost never rejected - and he didn’t now. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

Without looking at him, Gabriel nodded.

“You could tell me anything at this point, I think - and we’d find a place for it in everything else we’ve had to work through. Okay? If you came to me to say you hate him or miss him or whatever - I mean, I never felt anything like that for Lucifer. I can’t say I ever once felt like I missed him. But all that means is that Lucifer is different from Asmodeus, and I’m a little different from you.”

“Sure, if by ‘different’ you mean - ”

“I don’t mean ‘better.’ I mean different.” Sam squeezed his hand, half-hoping that Gabriel would reciprocate and feeling disappointed when he didn’t. “You need to let me know what’s going through your head even if I might not totally get it. I’m - I’m a little confused, maybe, but not shocked. I don’t have expectations about what you’re going to feel. Whatever you’ve got going on is just part of everything else, okay? Please just - just don’t be scared to bring it up. Even if you were to come to me and tell me you hated me, we could make it fit. We could figure it out.”

All at once, Gabriel went white and jerked his hand out of Sam’s. “I don’t hate you!”

Sam blinked, startled.

“I don’t hate you!” Gabriel repeated. “In what universe would I claim to hate you? Where did that come from?”

“Nowhere! I’m just saying you could confess something super weird and we’d still - ”

“I don’t hate you! Do you think I hate you?”

“No, Gabriel. That’s not what I think.” Sam tried to sound soothing, but the truth was that Gabriel’s reaction might be the exception: Sam was not, in that moment, sure how to incorporate it into the bigger picture.

“I didn’t want to make you think I hated you,” Gabriel insisted. “Jesus, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you about this; I didn’t want to say anything because Dad knows it makes me sound like the spoiled brat Asmodeus always told me I was!”

“Gabriel - ”

“Missing him is betraying you, and I know that; but not missing him is betraying him! Not that I’m worried about that, but - or I am, I think; I mean, I shouldn’t be, but - see, paying any mind to his feelings is pointless, but those moments of - of peace or safety or love or - Sam, they were important.”

“Okay. Hey, hey, listen, buddy - this isn’t about what you owe me. That was your home for a long time, so I get where you’re coming from. Home is home, even if it sucks. Don’t be so angry with yourself over it.”

“Please don’t use that word.” Gabriel’s voice trembled. “Please - don’t try and talk to me about home, okay? Because sometimes I think I want to go home, and then I remember that I have no clue where home is supposed to be - in Hell, maybe, as ludicrous as that sounds; or I guess having no home at all feels more like home than anything else.”

“Wait,” Sam interjected, “You think you don’t have a home?”

“Ah.” Gabriel held up a hand. “Pause. Footnote: there is no consensus among the many factions of my conscience as to whether I have an obligation to make this my home, or if I owe it to all of you to resist the temptation to let myself feel any such thing.”

Before Sam could reply, a new expression passed over Gabriel’s features, one that could not have been mistaken for anything but grief. His face took on the taut, ruddy sadness that Sam had only ever witnessed at memorials.

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “You don’t owe us that. Or anything else.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes. “Yeah, Sam. I do.”

“And you shouldn’t expect yourself to be able to pilot what you do and don’t feel about Asmodeus.”

“I’m not allowed to hope that things will at least make sense? No, of course not. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I expect everybody else to know. Obviously I anticipate that you’ll have all the answers. Another example of just how right he could be about me.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. Spoiled brat, remember?”

“Gabriel, dude … you start going on about yourself like that, you’ll get worked up.”

“Because as you can clearly see, I couldn’t be any damn calmer.” Gabriel scrubbed a hand forcefully, violently, back and forth against his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m stating facts. Picture it: me, feeling anything like grief for him when I have so much more now? That tells you more about me than you should ever have to know. It speaks volumes. Nothing is ever good enough for me, and - and I’m not good enough to make up for always wanting more.”

Sam could now recognize the warning signs in Gabriel’s face - harbingers of delirious panic brought on by memories too heavy to swallow. He saw the pallor, the beads of sweat, the clenched jaw, and owlishly bright eyes.

“Calm down,” he told Gabriel, trying to sound firm without posing a threat. “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t. Okay?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel offered.

“You’re safe, Gabe. You have to remember that.”

“You know what pisses me off more than anything else right now? What really, really pisses me off?”

“Yeah?”

“That I’ve already got myself too damn sick to even try drinking the coffee you brought. So there you have it; you’ve wasted time and resources on an undeserving son of a - ”

“You can have it later, when you’re ready.”

“I was happy to have it, and then I just - I - I went and screwed things up again.”

“You really didn’t.”

“Sam …” Gabriel lowered his head and ran both hands through his hair. “I … man, I like to think I have more good days than bad. Since imagination is fun and healthy, and I love to walk the deliciously tender line between being an optimist and being a bullshitter.”

“Nobody’s keeping tabs on how many bad days you have. And backsliding is normal. Not ideal, I guess. But normal enough.”

Gabriel snorted. “Great. Feels good to know that everything happening right now is par for the course and I should just roll with it. Sam, this does not feel like it should be normal. Ever. In any context.”

“Then let it be a new version of normal."

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel muttered. “You know what, Sammy? Let me tell you something about this ‘new normal.’”

“I’m listening.” Truthfully, however, Sam was not sure he wanted to hear. Gabriel didn't sound like he intended to offer any uplifting anecdotes.

“The other night,” Gabriel began, “I had another stupid dream. But this time we’re talking actually stupid, okay? Not just bad, but total gibberish. And when I jerked awake after this circus, I tried to talk myself down: ‘You know your crippled semi-human psyche is playing unpalatable games with itself. Relax, sergeant; take a breath and shimmy your sorry ass back into the present.’ Well, guess freakin’ what, Sam? It didn’t work. I felt frozen and sick and terrified, no matter how hard I wrestled with myself over it. I was so scared just by this flash fiction that had nothing to do with anything at all.”

“What was it?” Sam asked apprehensively.

“A piece of crummy abstract art. There was a shadow on the wall, some formless dark shape with a whole slew of possible identities. One second I felt like maybe I was seeing Dean, then Castiel, and even Jack for a split second there. Not you, though - never you.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, absolutely fabulous. Except that that meant I wanted you. I wanted you immediately. I had this feeling that each one of the others was evil, corrupt, gruesome - hungry for some Gabriel meat. So when I woke up, all I wanted was you. I wanted you so damn much, Sam.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. “Why didn’t you come get me, then?”

“Well, because all through this titillating romp into dreamland, I was thinking that as much as I was dying to call for help, I had no right to pester you. You didn’t need extra demands from your pesky houseguest. The last thing you deserved - and before you get on my case about it, this is just what was going through my head as I was dreaming; I couldn’t stop it - was Little Orphan Archangel to come whining to you about how the people you loved and trusted were out to get me.”

“I wouldn’t have - ”

“So when I woke up, you think I was ready to drag you into my umpteenth midnight meltdown? You needed sleep. And me, having no dignity, no control, not an ounce of self-respect - I curled up in bed and started bawling and then I squealed your name over and over again into my knees as if I expected your spidey senses to tingle and you’d come to rescue me from my own dadforsaken self. But there was also a very real possibility - or at least it felt real, you’ve got to understand that - that I’d go looking for you, and you’d be rightfully pissed off that I hadn’t allowed this shadow bitch to take me away.”

Sam stood up. Alarm flickered across Gabriel’s face. But then Sam crouched in front of him and said, “That kind of thing, Gabe? That kind of thing where you’re actually hurting yourself just to save face, or because you have it in your head that you shouldn’t be allowed access to compassion?” He cleared his throat in a hasty attempt to keep himself together. “That counts as an emergency. Always. Even if it happens ten times a day.”

Gabriel looked discomfited. “Sam - ”

“Don’t sit there and let him do that to you. Please. When that happens, you need help and you can’t afford to pretend you can wait for it.”

“I - ” Gabriel turned his face away. “Sam - ”

“What? What about that sounds so impossible to you?”

“It’s - it’s like I’ve said, I can’t live up to what you’re looking to get from me.”

“Gabriel, for the last time, I’m not looking for you to give me anything!”

“No, you are; you want me to heal, and I don’t know if I can. I certainly don’t have it in me right now - not yet.” Sam saw tears in his eyes. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m a tough nut to crack open and I get that. I exhaust you, though. Now, that’s partly on you for feeding into this idea that you can make me better, but mostly I’m just a difficult patient. I keep fighting your efforts.”

“You’re not putting up a fight with me. You’re fighting Asmodeus.”

“Oh yeah? If I’m working so hard to get him off my conscience, then riddle me this: why the hell should I feel anything other than total revulsion for him? Why is it that I think to myself, ‘I’m terrified and alone and I hope he shows up to help’? I couldn’t justify that if you paid me. And you can’t make this shit up, Sam. This is raw nonsense straight from the mind of a lost cause.”

“You’re allowed to grieve. I can’t say I understand; I haven’t been there. But it isn’t weird that you’d miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it wouldn’t be weird if you didn’t happen to be around.”

“You had him for hundreds and hundreds of years. And he was the only thing you had. He was everything to you.”

Gabriel groaned. “When you put it that way, it sounds so gross. It really does.”

“You can’t just replace everything you had with something new, and expect it to feel like home. At least not right away.”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted. No further tears had spilled from his eyes, although Sam could tell that, if Gabriel was going to put up a real fight, it was in response to the urge to cry.

“Please,” Sam said. “Please don’t keep yourself locked away when you wake up like that, or when you feel like something’s wrong. I’m right here; we’re all right here. We’ll connect the dots where we can, okay? But come on - I mean, who even really cares? It’s a language - sort of. Or not. Maybe just a bunch of made-up words that we can use to create a language of our own. Can we look at it that way?”

Gabriel jerked his head - not quite a nod, not quite a refusal. “Impressively well fleshed-out for an improvised metaphor, Sam.”

“I really hate the picture you just painted. I hate that you didn’t go looking for someone, anyone, just because you were afraid of being a nuisance.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I - Sam, I couldn’t get anybody else. It had to be you.”

“So I would’ve helped you.”

“And are you forgetting the very real possibility that it could have reminded you of your own experience in the pit?”

“I guess it could have, sure. It didn’t just now. But even if it did, can we maybe not pay that any attention unless it actually becomes an issue? For now, I want you to worry about yourself - not about me.”

“Perfect. Seeing as I’ve been provided explicit instructions to avoid worrying about you, it’s smooth sailing from here on out. Thanks, Sam. Now I don’t have to concern myself with whether or not you’re keeping your own head above water. And if the message isn’t clear, let me translate: shut up and let me care about you, you self-effacing dingleberry.”

“I’m serious. In moments like that, you have to put everything else on hold; you’ve got to look for help first thing. Like I said, it’s an emergency. Imagine if it were Jack. You’d want to - ”

“Stop right there. Don’t put that image in my head, and don’t compare Jack to me. He’s an entirely different species, Sam, and I’m not just talking about his human DNA.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“He’s not me, he’s nothing like me; there’s nothing wrong with that kid. I don’t even like that he has to breathe the same air as me - so don’t insult him by pretending like the two of us deserve the same treatment.” Gabriel’s face was flushed. “And now I can’t shake that scenario you just threw into my brain and it’s making me feel like I have to puke.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam told Gabriel, and meant it: he didn’t like the vision either. After a moment’s consideration, he decided not to address some of the more problematic themes wrapped in Gabriel’s protestations. So he went on, “It doesn’t matter to me how many times you find yourself in that position, okay? It’s just as important if it happens once a week or every night for a month, Gabriel. I promise one of us can help, and if it has to be me then get me right away. Text me if you have to; I keep my phone next to my bed. You won’t get better if you keep this up. You won’t heal if you let these feelings just rot inside of you.” Sam’s knees were aching from his crouched position, so he stood up again and sat back down, this time in the chair beside Gabriel’s. “You don’t need to abuse yourself the way he did. Asmodeus wasn’t giving you love or anything else that you needed. And now you’re hurting yourself more by throwing away the real thing because you think you shouldn’t have it.”

Gabriel’s face was hard and closed-off, but the tears finally slipped free and he turned further away in a limp attempt to conceal them.

Not even sure where the question was coming from, or why he was asking it, Sam said: “What’s scaring you?”

He anticipated silence, or a tense “Nothing.” So he was taken aback when Gabriel replied, “I’m waiting for your speech. Your tactful ‘you and I both know it’s time for you to leave the Bunker’ speech.”

Sam balked. “Excuse me?”

“No one’s accusing you of intent to actually do it,” Gabriel told him. “I’m just answering the question: that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m not - ”

“I know. I’m still scared of it, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Nobody here wants you to leave. Especially not me. I want you to stick around until you get sick of us.” Sam wondered if Gabriel could hear the tightness in his own throat. “I’m not changing my mind about that because you feel like you miss Asmodeus; I can be better than he was.”

“You think I don’t know that already? I’m sad, not simple. But that's just the issue: you’re providing your best, and I’m not taking it like I should be. Come on, doesn’t it make you feel just a little bit unappreciated to hear me say ‘I wish Asmodeus could be here to help’?”

“No, but it makes me worry about how bad he screwed with your mind.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, and Sam didn’t press him. In the distance, he could hear people moving around - probably Dean getting coffee, or Jack getting cereal, or both of them.

“Listen,” Gabriel said finally, “I hope you know I can see the difference. You’re not him; you couldn’t be any less like him. You’d never, ever do to me what he did to me, and I hate that, and I love that. It’s just that he did give me something - something I don’t know how to describe, if it wasn’t love. I wish he hadn’t played those games with me, but he did; he played them like they were guitar picks and I was an out-of-tune six-string. And you’ve gotta understand - what was I supposed to do, you know? When I got those glimpses of kindness? How could I not give in and just - just be happy about them? How could I not be scared to death that he would change his mind? And how could I not hate everything about myself when he inevitably made it clear that that kindness had been a mistake?”

Sam realized he couldn’t speak, so he only nodded.

“But,” Gabriel pleaded, “I don’t want him. I don’t want Asmodeus, Sam; I want you.”

Sam swallowed. “Good. Because I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Hey - since you’re in the swing of it, what else do you want right now?”

Gabriel leaned away. “What?”

“Right now. What do you want? Tell me.”

Gabriel floundered. “I - um. Nothing.”

Sam waited.

“Um,” Gabriel stammered, “The coffee, I guess.”

Sam passed it to him. “Might be cold.”

“I don’t care. But, uh - ”

“You want something else?”

“No.”

“You were going to ask.”

“I …” Gabriel shuddered. Sam had the urge to wrap a blanket around him. Perhaps after this he would offer to take him back to Sam’s own bedroom and let him get a few hours of sleep there.

Gabriel opened his arms.

"Oh," said Sam, and leaned forward.

Gabriel didn't speak, but he did relax into the embrace.

That was all the thanks Sam could have asked for.

23 notes · View notes

lordeasriel · 3 years

Note

I know you love Marcel (or at least find him very fascinating) and I had two questions about him. What do you think happened to his father? He seems to not have been around but that is just my impression. My second question is whether you have any names you think of as belonging to Marcel's dæmon?

Ihahah yes I do love Marcel very much, I find him an incredibly character!

For your first question: I think the most likely answer (that which may show up in canon, should Philman decide to write about that) is that the father is dead. Do I like that? No, but it’s probably the most likely scenario. Maman is very old and sick by TSC, so it’s fair to imagine that Papa Delamare would be around her age or even older (considering how Philman write these books with a bit an antiquated mindset, so perhaps he was much older than she was when they married, as it was kinda customary during the first five decades of the past centuries).

Now, if I had to guess and go into headcanon territory, I like to think that he left Maman for many reasons, most likely because of her cheating. He may not have wanted to divorce her as to not disgrace the children as well, but he left her and either he didn’t want to take the children or Maman refused to let him take them, whichever works. My personal headcanon is that he left her due to her cheating with Binaud - which explains Marcel’s anger with Binaud and Maman - and that Papa Delamare is still alive in TSC. I also headcanon he is the man who gave Lyra the Myriorama, because I like some family drama asjhskshjkasjkhas He probably lives in a costal city, owns a fishing boat and just stays chill as far from drama as he can get. If he ever tried to visit his children, it’s possible that they didn’t want anything to do with him - either because of resentment or because maman would have turned them against him or simply because they would consider him weak for giving up his perfectly good life. I also think he was a very rich man involved with corporations (if ur not familiar with it, I wrote a theory over Thuringia Potash being owned by the Delamares). But this is all just headcanon, a realistic guess is that he is dead and gone. Good for him, imagine living to see your son hunt down your granddaughter because he thinks she killed his sister and your former wife is trying to brainwash the girl into whatever-- u get the drill lmao

As for your second question: I honestly don’t know. I’m very bad with naming daemons, especially daemons from canon characters, but if I had to name the owl, I’d problably look after a saint’s name. I think Maman is very religious, and she’d have had her daemon name both the monkey and the owl with saint’s names. If she wanted to be a little extra, maybe she’d go after angel names as well, but most angels tend to have names associate with masculine, so probably not many options for Marcel. We don’t know for sure, but I think they might be Swiss - very likely from Geneva or any other French speaking regions, I know very vaguely how that works in Switzerland tbh (I know they also speak German and apparently Italian, so possibly the names could come from these languages too, tho Maman strikes me as A Very French Woman) - so all the names of the saints/angels/bliblical names would likely be in their French form (as they change according to the language). I do not speak French lmao So I’ll just give you the names in English form, but you get what I mean, I hope

I did a quick googling and amonsgt the names I found I think Edith, Euphemia, Francesca, Genevieve, Gianna, Godelieve, Louise, Marguerite, Eunice. I mean there are way too many options between the bible and saints and some angels, but if I had to pick one would probably pick one of these or I’d go for a less masculine-coded angel name. I like the idea of an angel name because both he and Marisa could have daemons named with something ending with -el, and I think it is believable enough considering the way Maman seems to be very intense about belief. Angels names that I would choose for him: Ariel, Muriel, Sabriel or Sariel; I’d probably sit and like really think before I’d name the daemon though, because I think the name is very important and usually all the names we have are great matches to their human’s name - because Philman knows the character well. So I think it’s a hard process, but the general idea I’d go for is religious name, always taking into consideration that the monkey’s name would also have been reflective of that religious concept.

Thank u for the ask! This was very fun to research and write about!

#asks #marcel delamare #hdm meta: marcel delamare #thank u for the ask!#always happy to talk about marcel!!!#Anonymous

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

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Hello! I have forgotten my tumblr login, but I am shai from AO3 and I just want to say that the Abhorsen books are very dear to my heart and I am THRILLED at idly wandering tumblr and seeing you're writing a Bleach AU set in that world. (Are the Kuchikis the Abhorsens? Is there a Mogget equivalent and is it Yoruichi? Is Karakura in Ancelstierre? I can't map the two settings together at alllll in my head on first glance but I'm super curious how you will!)

First of all, I am beyond excited that anyone actually cares about this project. I was going to try to explain it, but honestly, it’s not that long and, uh, maybe I should just post it. So, here’s the shorty version, where I cut it off at the Dramatic Drabble Point. I have more, but it starts to meander into an actual plot, where the plot is just the final confrontation at the end of Sabriel. I honestly just wanted to write Renji as part of the Crossing Guard Scouts?? I might expand this (how much? as much as I feel like?) after I re-read Sabriel. My husband has been reading the books to my son, and I catch snatches of it and it’s got me In the Mood, but I found myself forgetting way too much.

Dear everyone else: I refuse to explain any of this. The Abhorsen books are the shit, just go read them. If you love Rukia as a character, you will love Sabriel. The two of them, along with Susan Sto Helit and Death of the Endless are the fictional pragmatic death girls of my heart, if I *ever* write an actual book, it will almost surely be about a pragmatic death girl.

Anyway, here it is, The Worst Charter Mage in Ancelstierre.

“All that stuff Colonel Zaraki said… about a soldier’s intuition an’ stuff… that was just made up, right? To scare us? Us, uh, new guys, I mean, you never get scared, right Renji?”

Captain Abarai Renji of the Northern Perimeter Reconnaissance Unit, or the Crossing Point Scouts, as they were often known, stared out into the foggy dusk. His skin itched. His ears strained to hear the unearthly whistling of the wind flutes, which as far as he knew, none of the other scouts could hear. He could usually hear them, but not tonight. “Stop cleaning that damn firearm Yuki,” he grumbled without turning around. “Check your sword fittings instead.”

Lance Corporal Yuki Rikichi, having been stationed on the Perimeter for all of two months, very slowly started reassembling his pistol. “I’m not great with swords,” he admitted.

“Wind’s from the north,” Renji grunted. “Guns ain’t much good.”

“That’s just stories, though, right?”

“Nope,” Renji replied, squinting at a dark shape winging through the sky. It looked a bit like the airplanes he had seen when we went South for officer training, but it was too small, too silent, and besides, shit like that didn’t work past the Wall. He groped for his spyglass. “You think you can do that protection charm I been teaching you?”

“Yeah, I’ve practiced and practiced!” Rikichi bubbled eagerly.

Renji frowned, trying to focus the spyglass. If tonight was going to go as badly as his skin was crawling, that protection charm was going to do about as much good against the Dead as Rikichi hurling his useless gun at them. “Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s a someone.”

“A what?” Rikichi echoed.

“We got visitors,” Renji repeated, standing and checking the sword strapped his hip. “You go tell the Colonel, I’ll give ‘em the ol’ Crossing Scout welcome.”

“I can’t leave you alone!” Rikichi yelped. “Look, I’ll just radio him.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Renji shrugged, making his way down the stone staircase of the watchtower, knowing that piece of Ancelstierran junk would give nothing but static until the wind changed.

As Renji watched the strange craft circle down toward the ground, he tried to pull together the Charter Marks for a Major Blessing. It wasn’t a hard spell, and it would protect him from the Lesser Dead, maybe even a weak Free Magic Creature. As usual, the marks weren’t behaving, and he finally gave up. He didn’t know why he had such a hard time casting spells. None of the books he read ever described Charter Marks as elusive or mischievous. Was it like this for all Charter Mages? Maybe if he ever met another one, he could ask them. He was going to have to rely on his sword arm instead. Fortunately, his sword arm was pretty fucking reliable.

The craft had settled in the tall grass, and two figures were getting out. It looked remarkably like an airplane, except that it appeared to be made of paper, painted in cheerful blue and silver. It was powered by Charter Magic, Renji had heard the pilot whistling Charter Marks as they brought the thing to the ground. Pretty nifty trick, to be honest. Must be from deep in the Old Kingdom, where they still taught the old magic. Renji himself had been born just a few miles from the Wall, lived in that shitty border town until he was sixteen. He’d come south thinking he never wanted to see a Charter Stone again, but somehow, he’d never made it much further south than the Perimeter, not for long anyway. It was fine. He was useful here.

Renji gripped his sword with one hand. They looked and felt like people, but Free Magic Creatures could be tricksy. “Halt!” he shouted. “Who goes there? This is not a legal crossing point! What is your name? What is your business?”

The taller of the two figures, clad in a red and gold helmet and a red cloak, leaned down and said something to the much smaller figure, the pilot, who was dressed in blue and silver. The pilot elbowed the other in the ribs and then announced in a voice that rang with authority, “I am the Abhorsen and if you don’t help me, this gate is going to fall before dawn!”

Renji drew his sword. “I’ve met the Abhorsen!” he shouted. “You sure don’t look like that tall, pretty bastard to me!”

The pilot, who had been slowly approaching him, froze in her tracks. “That… was my brother-in-law,” she bit off. “How did you know him? He never came this far south.” She was silent for a moment before adding tentatively, “Also, he wasn’t the Abhorsen, although sometimes he let people believe he was.”

Renji’s fingers twitched on his sword grip. No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. The voice was different, huskier, more mature, but then, it had been twelve years, she wasn’t a girl anymore. Not that she’d grown much. “I am simply returning her to her family,” that pale, flash prat had said, as he pulled her up onto the horse behind him, and rode away with the one person who gave Renji’s life any meaning or purpose. “Not one step further,” he shouted, since he didn’t think he could keep his voice steady any other way. “I don’t care if you’re the bloody Queen of the Old Kingdom herself!”

Something was happening with the taller of two visitors. Dark red energy, nearly black was crackling around his fists, the ozone smell of Free Magic permeating the air. Renji tried again to pull a Mark from the Charter, and this time one came easily, and he felt an invisible barrier thrum into place before him. It was no diamond of protection, but it should be enough to fend of some upstart teen.

“Cool it, you moron!” the pilot yelled at the youth. “The Scouts are good people, they just get hung up on procedure. Also… I… might know this guy.” She reached up and hooked a finger over the scarf wrapped over her face and pulled it down, tucking it under her chin. “Abarai Renji? ‘Zat you?”

“Rukia…” Renji murmured just as there was a clatter of boots on bitumen behind him.

“WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?” a familiar voice bellowed. “Abarai, you got your sword out and there ain’t no blood on it, what’s going on?”

“Says she’s the Abhorsen, sir,” Renji reported, adjusting his sword stance but not relaxing. “Don’t look like the Abhorsen I remember.”

Colonel Zaraki strode through the company of men who had accompanied him, towering, helmetless, his hawklike nose catching the setting sun. He surveyed the young woman standing before.

“The wall is going to be attacked, tonight!” she shouted. “A massive army of the Dead, led by a necromancer who is himself one of the Greater Undead! Are you the commanding officer of this garrison?”

“Abhorsen came through here in ‘87,” Zaraki grunted. “Clever woman. After the fuckers down south stopped letting us move the gate every few months, all the deaths at the crossing point would build up, cause spontaneous risings. She carved us those wind flutes to keep the Dead down.” He surveyed the woman, dressed in a blue and silver tabard over silver chain. Her dark, short-cropped hair, the stunning indigo eyes Renji would never, ever forget. “Looked a lot like you. Your mother?”

“Sister,” Rukia corrected. It was Rukia, Renji was sure of it now. Of course she hadn’t been taken away to be a noble, she’d been taken away to be the fucking Abhorsen. Of course she had.

“If you’re the Abhorsen now, that means–”

“She went into Death four days ago. She’s holding out, but she’s been there too long, she can’t come back. At the full of the moon, the wind flutes will fail.”

“That the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting, then?”

Rukia’s eyes darted to the youth at her side and back again. “Maybe. This is Kurosaki. He is what he is.”

“Yo,” Kurosaki waved, seemingly unconcerned by any of this.

Zaraki jerked his chin at Renji. “Stand down, Captain. You been on the Wall too long to be this twitchy.”

“Don’t trust people who ‘are what they are’,” Renji replied. “Sounds to me like something a Free Magic Construct would say.” He sheathed his sword, but didn’t release the Charter Mark.

“He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a Free Magic Construct,” Rukia rolled her eyes.

“I’m standin’ right here, y’know!” Kurosaki protested.

“What do you need, Abhorsen?” Zaraki asked.

Renji glanced at him, surprised. He’d served under the man for over a decade, and he’d never seen him act this respectfully to anyone, including his own COs.

“I need every Charter Mage you’ve got,” Rukia barked. “Aizen has hidden his body in Ancelstierre, a few miles from here. We need to destroy it, but it’s going to take a ton of power to destroy something that powerful.”

Zaraki scratched his ass thoughtfully. “You may not realize, ma’am, but we don’t get a whole lot of Charter Mages this far south. My boys, though, have got swords like you’ve never seen. Zaraki’s Company can cut through anything, living, Dead, or in-between.”

“That’s very nice,” Rukia bit off, “because they are going to have an awful lot of things to stab in just a few hours. But I need Charter Mages. I don’t care if there aren’t many. Please. Give me what you have.”

Zaraki took a deep, resigned breath through his nose. “Well. You heard the lady, Abarai. Take that fucking apprentice the boys down south sent you, too. You managed to teach him anything yet?”

“Not… much…” Renji admitted, stunned.

“What, what?” Kurosaki exploded. “You’ve only got a single Charter Mage?”

“He’s terrible, also,” Zaraki added. “Worst Charter Mage I’ve ever seen, aside from the apprentice. Good with a sword, though, one of the best in the company to be honest.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir,” Renji grouched. Suddenly, he realized that Rukia was looking at him, and he felt like he was eleven years old again, meeting her for the first time, being judged by those eyes and, inexplicably, being found worthy. “I’ll go. At your service. Abhorsen.”

#my writing #bleach abhorsen au #bleach fanfiction

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jayus-fandom-writer · 4 years

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Syrup and Pancakes. A Destiel and Sabriel Fanfic

Story summery:the two teen Winchester brothers have an unplanned sleepover with their angel friend. Then someone unexpected comes to see Sam.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Unless you die from being smothered by this fluffy fluff :)

Dean wakes up on the far side of his large bed. He looks around confused and sees Cas, still fast asleep, on the other side facing away from him. He then remembers that they had been just hanging out and looking through random posts Cas had made on his new phone. Dean's memory is confirmed by seeing the phone, buried slightly under the covers. They both must've fallen asleep. Dean smiles a bit. He's going to need explain why Cas is still over. Dean looks over at Cas. He's sleeping peacefully. A little TOO peacefully. Dean quietly gets up and puts a thick blanket on the carpet beside the bed. He then jumps into the bed and shoves Cas into the blanket. "Hey Cas wake up!" Cas yells as he falls off the bed, almost missing the blanket as he struggles to catch himself. "Dean what-" Cas looks up slightly angrilly at Dean. Dean hangs his head over the side of the bed, giving him big puppy dog eyes. Cas's gaze softens and he laughs. "Ok so who's gonna explain this to Sam?" Dean shrugs right as Sam enters the room, attracted by the noise. "Hey Dean you good? I heard a crash-" his gaze falls on Cas who violently is trying to get up while punching Dean at the same time. "Ah ok nevermind carry on." Sam smirks and starts to walk to the kitchen. "Sam- No it's not like that...- you son of a bitch!" Dean scrambles out of the bed, blocking Cas's punches while pulling him along.

"Ok," Sam says as Dean and Cas crash into the kitchen, "what do you two want for breakfast? Pancakes sound good?" Dean looks at Cas and they both turn back to look at Sam, voicing their agreement to the proposal. Sam's phone suddenly rings. "Hey what's up?" Sam's automatic answer causes Dean and Cas to stop fighting, interested in who this person is. "Oh ok yeah I'll be over in a second." Sam flips the phone closed and turns to Sam and Dean. "Gabriel wanted me to go help them plant their new garden-" Dean looks at Sam with a smirk. "Oh yeah that's fine have fun with your date, Sammy!" Sam rolls his eyes. Then grabs his keys. As he heads out the door he looks back. "You two can make the pancakes if you're careful. I think I'll be back in the afternoon sometime." And he shuts the door.

Dean and Cas look at each other, then at the cookbook in front of them. "A'right I think I'm the better cook out of the two of us..." Cas gives Dean a hurt look and walks over to the cabinet, pulling out the flour, sugar, baking power, and salt. He also pulls out sour cream from the fridge. Dean watches this quietly but when Cas pulls out a head of lettuce he sighs and brings the book over to Cas. "Ok fine maybe we're both pretty bad cooks but where are you seeing sour cream and lettuce?" Cas smiles a bit and puts back the strange ingredients. "You were right about the other stuff though. Here come look at the recipe real quick." Cas gives a small laugh and looks over. Sure enough, the dry ingredients had been guessed by Cas perfectly. Dean pulls out the eggs and milk and the two begin trying to work around and with each other. Dean thought Cas got a bit too close while he was mixing and flung a full cup of flour at him. Cas immediately let out a few dozen coughs while Dean, only mildly concerned, laughed at his white face. As the flour was flying around the room Cas shoots Dean a look of betrayal. As he tried to rappidly recover his dignity he tried to look as angry as possible. But seeing Dean's laughing face, also covered in flour, cracked a grin instead. Neither of them had realised how much time had passed. But Dean suddenly stopped laughing and instead tried to regain any self control he had ever had. Cas looks over to see a dirt-covered Sam smiling at them. "And you both claim you aren't a couple." Sam then took his leave of the two, walking to the bathroom, to take a shower no doubt, leaving Dean yelling a few choice remarks at him. The two then finish the pancakes with no further food battle.

After a short good natured argument the two decide Cas should be the one to fry the pancakes since Dean had had the honor of stirring the mixture. Cas cooked up beautifully golden pancakes and tossed them on the plates lying on the counter ready for their golden burden. Dean sighed and huged Cas, putting his chin on Cas's shoulder. Cas didn't seem to object so Dean watched him flip the rest of the pancakes in silent admiration.

Once all the pancakes were cooked Dean yelled to Sam about their completion. Sam soon came out from his room saying "oh yum people always say food is better when it's made with love." Dean imediently punched his brother's arm, a glaring look in his eyes. But then he simply laughed and muttered "bitch" under his breath. Sam returned the playful insult quickly with a louder "jerk!" Accompanied with a twinkle in his eye. Then all three sat down to eat their food. Sam complimented both boys many times saying that "the pancakes are very good, much better than your attempt at muffins last week!"

After the pancakes were devoured Sam headed back to his room, leaving the two friends alone. Soon the sound of his music could be heard faintly playing from his bedroom. "Geeze only Sam would listen to Taylor Swift and enjoy it." Dean remarked, turning to Cas. Cas laughed and said "hey you listen to her music on repeat all the time when you're in the car." Dean's eyes widened "what- who told you that??" Cas's expression turned into a straight face as he remarked gravely "Sam let me look through your 'roadtrip' CD's and you have 4 Taylor Swift albums."

"Well at least I... Uh..." Dean's comeback falls short but he quickly recovered himself, "at least I got all the syrup off my lips. Bruh, they look like they're covered with the stuff." Dean then quickly held Cas's face with both hands and gently kissed Cas's lips. He then realised what he's done and quickly dropped his hands and backed away quickly saying, "Damnit Cas I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He took the plates from the table and quickly moved away to wash them in the sink. He couldn't even look at Cas's face. But he also licked his lips just slightly once he's turned away from Cas. They're sweet with syrup. It's how he always imagined Cas's lips to taste.

Dean became so absorbed into his thoughts and dishwashing that he hardly noticed Cas getting up. He hasn't said a word but he walked over to Dean and looked up slightly. Dean is a good 3 or 4 inches taller so he has no choice. Dean hardly noticed Cas's efforts to get his attention, or at least was trying to ignore them. Cas turned off the water and grabed Dean's shoulders, forcing him to look directly at him. Dean's green eyes reflect his worry. He didn't want their friendship to end over a dumb kiss. "Cas..." But Cas cut in. "Dean it's ok. But just tell me one thing." Dean, slightly confused, asked what he wanted to know. "Did you like how my lips tasted?" Dean couldn't help but laugh a bit. But he replied back with only a hint of a smile, "Yeah Cas... I'm I did..." He scratched his head, worried about what Cas will say. Cas smiled. "Well you can kiss them again. Until you get all the syrup off at least. I don't think they'll taste as good after it's gone." He then leaned into a very surprised Dean and kissed him. Dean held Cas up to him gently, just trying to figure out if he's really there in front of him, TELLING Dean to kiss him. As Cas wraped his arms around his neck Dean could tell it was real this time. He's not just imagining it now. By this time the syrup's completely gone from both lips but they didn't care. They broke apart, each slightly out of breath. Cas snuggled his head under chin. Dean in turn held Cas more tightly. It's at that moment Dean looked over at the hallway and saw Sam standing there, leaning against the frame. The look of pure glee on his face told plainly that he witnessed that entire episode and he's pleased with his work. He slowly walked back to his room, laughing on the inside.

back inside his room he grabbed his phone and pulled up Gabriel's contact. 'Hey Gabe' he sent the message and then quickly typed and sent 'Dean and Cas finally kissed in the kitchen. All it took was some syrup. You were right babe.' Sam sent the message but then quickly realised the typo. "SHIT." Sam said out loud to himself. '*Gabe* sorry autocorrect is the pits isn't it?' but before he has time to send it a new message appears. Sam opened it and it read 'haha I told you so. they just needed that final nudge to get it going. and yeah I know babe lol I'll come over in a few minutes if you want to try it too? :)' Sam almost choked. He loved Gabriel but never expected him to actually like him back! 'wait what? Really?' Sam quickly replied back. 'REALLY. Not joking. I'm already in the car.'

'You dumbass bitch... What am I gonna tell Dean? And Cas??'

'idk you figure that out lol. I'll be there in about 4 minutes.'

'ok I'll get out the syrup.' Sam hopped out of his bed and walked back into the kitchen. Dean was pouring orange juice into a glass. Cas was clearing the table. "Oh hey Sam" Dean's eyes begged Sam not to mention seeing what just went down. Sam simply ignored the look, and chuckling slightly said quietly, "Hey Cas can you give me the syrup?" Cas, with a confused look at Dean, handed the syrup to Sam. "Hey wait- is that Gabriel's car out front?" Dean remarked, looking out the window. It was more of a statement then a question. Sam looked out. "Oh yeah it is... Huh wonder why they're here..." Dean burst out laughing. "Dude-" he then recovered himself. "Ok good luck." He grabbed Cas's hand lightly and lead him back to the TV room couch to watch some stupid old movie they had picked out. Sam brought the syrup to his room and sat on the bed. Is this really happening? Dean and Cas FINALLY get together and Gabriel is coming to see him to- to KISS him? WHAT? The knock at the door brought him to realize that this really is real life. It's actually happening. He realised this as he quickly hurried over to the door to let Gabriel in.

#Dean #Sam #Cas #Gabriel #Sabriel #Destiel #supernatural #Spn #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #Destiel fanfic #Destiel fluff #Destiel fluff fanfic #Sabriel fanfic #Sabriel fluff fanfic #fluff fanfic #Destiel kiss #supernatural ships

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naitiaclo960writings · 5 years

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Day 18 - Food

- "I’m gonna die." Dean sighed dramatically, weak voice and misty gaze.

Castiel rolled his eyes to the sky and watched the formless shape that was actually Dean through the table.

- "Dean, it’s just a bad flu." He said pouting.

- "No. That, Cas, is the beginning of my end. My nails will fall and my brain will flow through my ears because of the fever and I will die. I saw it on TV." Dean continued while tightening the blanket around his shoulders, weakly staring at an invisible spot in the middle of the table before coughing horribly. He winced.

- "You were watching a horror movie when you saw that, Dean.

- So what? It’s still a terrible way to die."

Castiel could not prevent a small smile from appearing on his lips and his gaze became compassionate when the hunter sneezed again.

Dean growled, feeling a dizziness assailing his heavy head after almost knocking himself on the table while sneezing. If he hadn’t had the damn flu, he’d already be hunting werewolves with Sam in Montana. But Sam had, of course, categorically refused to take him while saying that a hunter had to be in good shape and alert to hunt such a creature without risking getting killed. So he condemned Dean to stay in the bunker while he went hunting with Claire and Jody. Fortunately for Dean, Castiel had offered to stay with him to keep him company, but the only distraction they had had so far was the half-hour blackout last night. Since then, Castiel had undertaken to read at least one entire shelf of the library while Dean crashed up in every available corner of the bunker. It sucked to be sick.

Dean finally stretched out a feverish hand to the box of paper handkerchiefs not far from him, still under Castiel’s gaze, before blowing his nose with all the grace that such an action could offer. He then rolled the used tissue in his hand and let his head fall between his arms on the table, letting out a complaint only a little exaggerated.

From the other end of the table, Castiel tilted his head, a strange feeling of tenderness and protection taking hold of him when he saw the hunter so weak and vulnerable. Dean was buried under at least two big blankets and yet he still saw his shoulders shaking on either side of his head. Castiel had witnessed the creation of just about every disease on Earth, and although the flu was no longer the deadliest in this world, he did not wish it on anyone. He knew the symptoms and even how to treat them, but at this stage of the disease, he could do nothing but wait for Dean’s immune system to take over.

The angel lower a sad look on his hands on the table. He bitterly regretted that time when it would have been enough to touch Dean’s forehead to simply put him back on his feet, perhaps even he would have taken the opportunity to treat this painful knee that he had when it rained or this twisted finger that he had obtained during a fight against a poltergeist. But Metatron had still not told him where his grace was, and even the mere fact of staying awake for more than seventy-two hours was difficult for him. In the end, he’s been more human than angel lately. Of course, if Dean had asked him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to burn his last supply to save him a few days of illness, but they both knew the hunter would never do that.

Castiel finally drove away his dark thoughts — what was the point of complaining about it now anyway? — and worked hard to find a way to help his friend without his powers. After several minutes, he finally rose from his chair without a sound and disappeared into the lobby.

Dean barely raised his head when he heard him leave, but he could not prevent a certain sense of disappointment from seizing him. Being sick was not fun, but being sick and alone was even less. Doesn’t matter in the end that Castiel spent most of his free time with him immersed in books, the simple fact of knowing that he was not far away and that he was looking out for him helped him to grin and bear it.

Maybe Cas got tired of him? If he did, he could get it. Staying all day with the kind of mess that he had become for three days should hardly be restful. Maybe he was just looking for a place where no one sniffed every 30 seconds? Probably.

Dean remained for a long time in the same position, only emerging to blow his nose or sneeze without risking hitting the table. Maybe he could wind up in the Dean cave later and watch a good movie? Maybe Cas would agree to do that with him? In any case, that sounded good. Dean had no idea how long he remained there, wallowing in self-pity, before he heard the significant footsteps of Castiel returning to the library.

As he raised his head to lean on his chin, Castiel laid a large bowl of hot soup before him without saying much. Dean raised an eyebrow and straightened up slightly to observe the contents of the bowl, intrigued. Inside slowly smoked a solid mixture of a deep orange, some bubbles bursting imperiously on the edges of the bowl.

- "What is this?" Asked Dean while standing up completely on his chair, sniffing the bowl as if he could smell the subtle odor of food.

Castiel raised one hand to the back of his neck and lowered his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. He took the time to sit in the chair next to Dean’s before answering.

- "Tomato rice soup." He simply said. "I know your mother used to make it when you were sick. That’s what you said once."

Dean lifted up his eyes as Castiel resolutely stared at the bowl of soup, as if he had not just turned Dean’s universe inside down with one mere action. How did Cas always remember everything? Hell, how could he be so nice and considerate to the people around him?

- "I used a recipe on the Internet, so I don’t think it will be as good as what Mary used to prepare for you… But I thought it might help with your cough and-

- Cas?" Dean cut him off, because he felt that the angel intended to continue babbling.

Castiel raised his head and nervously moistened his lips by crossing his eyes. Dean simply rolled up the corner of his lips into a soft, touched smile. Knowing that Castiel had made the effort to think of something that could bring him comfort just because he was a little sick moved him in the best possible way. The people who had already done this for him in his life were counting on the fingers of one hand and he was strangely satisfied to know that Cas was one of them. He quietly bitted the inside of his cheek.

- "I think I really want to kiss you, like, right now?" And maybe if he had had a little less fever, he would never have dared say that, or maybe he was just really grateful to be sick to finally stop his brain from filtering out everything he wanted to say to Cas.

Castiel opened his eyes wide surprised, his eyebrows rising very high before his face softened and he gave the impression of being about to burst into laughter.

- "I think that would be acceptable." He replied with the same tone, leaning slightly towards the hunter with a small smile on his lips.

- "Good." Dean said as he fills the distance between the two of them before fondly seizing on his lips, breaking eye contact with the angel only to close his eyes and appreciate the sensation.

It was by far the most disorderly kiss that Dean shared, Castiel visibly hesitating as to what he had to do and letting Dean lead him as he struggled to breathe with his blocked nose. But it was also by far the most perfect and they only part a few centimeters once the moment passed. Dean smiles frankly.

- "You’re going to be sick." Dean hummed.

- “Angels don’t get sick Dean.”

- “How convenient…"

He kissed him again and swallowed Castiel’s smile.

* * *

@winchester-reload More fluff for this one! Hope you liked it ^^. Please feel free to come and say hi if you want to talk about the prompts of the Suptober or anything else, really. Until next time!

You can check my masterlist for the Suptober 2019 here

Tagging peoples cause why not :

@aliceollormusic @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc@hellfire37 @didnt-survive-twist-and-shout @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @alexia-kline-winchester @destielhoneybee @mylifeisbrulette@dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove@zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @naomishamiga @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight@berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

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shipper-trash-bag · 5 years

Text

Sabriel week; Day One - Hurt/Comfort

(I know it’s technically day two but I forgot it was this week)

Sam winced at the stinging of the alcohol as his wound was washed out, trying hard to put on a brave face as the doctor and nurse cleaned out the shards of glass and gravel from the wound.

“You’ve had an awful day, huh, son?” The nurse asked, passing the doctor more saline as she picked each piece of glass out with the extra long tweezers. He held the tray out for her, each tiny rock, each jagged shard, and every little miscellaneous piece of garbage making a very audible thunk against the stainless steel. He sighed when the tray got too full, leaving to get another.

The doctor turned her greying head up at Sam, looking through her glasses at him in sympathy. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk to the officers? Catch the guy who did this to you and your brother?” Her eyes were soft, warm like his mother’s, but they couldn’t convince of this.

How do you tell a civilian that the “guy” who did this was a pack of demons? “No, I’m still... I think I’m in shock. I-“ he grasped the edge of the bed as a spasm of pain ripped through him, the swelling of the ankle doing little to go down. “My ankle is killing me, any chance we can X-ray it?”

She rolled the stool down by his foot, carefully taking his shoe off, followed by his sock. “Yeah, I don’t think you need an X-ray, Sam,” she clicked her tongue as they both looked down to see the bone in his foot peeking out through the skin. “But you’ll need surgery. I’m going to book an OR right now and our top ortho surgeron will work on your foot as I finish your side, okay?” He nodded, watching her stand to rip off her gloves. “I’m going to find nurse Elliot to let him know, and I’ll see about an update on your brother, okay?”

Sam nodded, trying to focus on the pattern of the privacy curtains instead of the pain ripping him in half.

He didn’t notice the demons at first, neither did Dean, but he was the first to be thrown through the window. It should have been just a simply salt and burn, shouldn’t have taken more than a day, but they weren’t lucky. It turned into a shit show really quickly, and Sam had carried Dean to the ER on sheer adrenaline alone after a demon crashed the impala into his older brother, totalling the car and fracturing so many bones in Dean, Sam was surprised he didn’t lodge one of them into an organ on their twenty minute hobble.

Dean had gone into surgery twenty six and a half minutes ago. And now that the adrenaline had worn off and Sam realized he’d also broken his own foot, he was going in too. And he was scared. It wasn’t normal for dean to need surgery, not been something he’d had to wait through for a long, long time, and now he needed it too? At the same time, no less. No, Sam Winchester wasn’t scared - he was terrified.

But he nodded along to everything the nurses said, signed the waiver, and let the anesthesiologist hook him up to an IV, dread sitting low in his stomach as he was wheeled to the OR. He only hoped he would wake up as soon as his mom got there, as soon as Dean would.

——————————-

“How is he?”

“Stable. Nurse said he should wake up in the next few minutes.”

Sam knew those voices, even as muffled as they were, but he couldn’t... place them. Still, they chattered on.

“How’s Dean?”

Dean....

“Good. Doctor said he’s lucky to be alive, but he’s awake and demanding I wheel him over here. But he’s still really groggy and high from the pain meds, so let’s wait.” A soft hand ran through his hair, the smell of the soap he’d grown fond of for the past year and a half.

His eyes opened slowly, a breath filling his lungs with the soft floral spice. “Mom?”

“Sam!” Her face swam into focus as he blinked up at her. Bags hung below her eyes, crinkled around the edges in a tight smile. “You scared the shit outta me! You two went in there, no backup, no nothing? It’s not like you. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t call me back last night.”

She looked exhausted, and Sam felt guilty about it. But he simply smiled softly back at her, thankful she was by his side. “Sorry, Mom. Won’t happen again. Dean-“

“He’s fine. Doctor’s patched him up and he’s going to go stir crazy because he’ll be bed bound for a few weeks, but he’ll live.”

Before she could finish her thought, nurse Elliot popped his head into their room. “Sorry to break up the reunion here, but Mrs. Baker? There’s some insurance forms I still need you to fill out.”

Mary nodded, turning to kiss Sam on the forehead before leaving. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Sam nodded, letting her go. The door barely closed before he felt the bed dip on his other side. Startled, he turned his head just in time to see Gabriel curl up against him, face just inches from his own. “I’m so angry with you.”

“Yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow, waiting to feel the full brunt of the ex-archangel’s fury.

Gabriel nodded. His face didn’t show anger, though, in fact, it was twisted more in pain than any other emotion Sam could have anticipated it’d be. “We were supposed to have a date night, and instead you go on a hunt with Dean without backup. How am I supposed to handle that, hmm? You didn’t even tell me ahead of time. You just.... you text me from a gas station a state away, saying ‘sorry. Change of plans.’ Like-“ he scoffs, frustrated and ready to cry. “The next call I get is from a nurse saying they’re wheeling you into surgery. Do you know how messed up that is? You can’t even call me yourself to cancel date night, you have to have a nurse do it for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Sam reaches up with both hands, cupping Gabriel’s face and forcing him to look at the man. “It was messed up how I handled it. I let Dean rope me into the hunt because I knew if I didn’t he’d go alone, and I didn’t call you because I knew you’d try to either tag along or convince me to stay behind. I’m struggling trying to please both of you, and I’m coming up short, here. Our relationship is suffering because of my choices, and I’m so unbelievably sorry, Gabe. I’m going to try harder. I’m also going to try to find someone to be Dea: backup when I can’t be.” He rubbed his thumb under Gabe’s left eye, a secretly favourite spot of Gabe’s he likes Sam touching he doesn’t think Sam knows about. “I have to compromise here for us, and I don’t know why I haven’t been willing to when it comes to Dean.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Cuz you’re both too codependent.”

Sam sighed, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.” He knew Gabriel was right, they all did, but the man still had some pride to keep. “Truce? I’ll make it up to you. We can have date night tomorrow.”

Gabriel laughed, a wet chuckle bubbling up from his throat. “Oh, no, babe. The doctor wants you in bed rest too. We’re going to have to put date night on hold for a while.”

Sam pouted, but nodded anyways. Far be it from him to keep Gabriel from doting on him for a change. And dote Gabriel did every single time Sam got injured or sick. Three months ago it was from a twisted ankle, and a week after that it had been the flu. Both time’s Gabriel went all out in the best human ways he could in order to make Sam feel pampered beyond words.

Gabriel nodded, curling alongside Sam and kissing him softly. “But only if I get to choose what documentary we watch. I’m not watching that coin one anymore. It’s coins. I know how they work. I have common cents.”

“Stop.”

“Why? I’m being the change I want to see in this world.”

“Gabriel.”

“Come on, you know you love me.”

Sam let out a soft smile at the worlds, having only admitted them to his boyfriend just a few weeks ago. Three years. Three years and he’d finally admitted it. “Yeah, I guess I do, Huh?”

Gabriel smiled widely, kissing him softly again. “When we get home, I’m getting you a maternity pillow. Your mom said it’ll help you sit upright so you don’t put strain on your stitches. We already have Jack and Cas out buying other stuff for you guys. Got a thick foam pillow to elevate your broken foot. And I also got us an HBO Go account so you can binge watch your shows. And soup. You like tomato and rice, right?”

Sam hummed in agreement, already enjoying the prospect at all of that. “Can we just lay here for a bit, first? We can get into the rest later. Just.... hold me? And maybe-“

“Run my fingers through your hair? You got it.”

By the time that Mary had finished the last form, Sam had fallen asleep again, but this time, it was from his boyfriend’s warmth.

(Someone teach me how to put read more on mobile)

#spn #sabriel #sam winchester #gabriel #dean winchester #mary winchester #fanfic #sabriel fanfiction #sabriel fanfic #my fanfic #sabriel week #hurt/comfort

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scrollingkingfisher · 5 years

Text

Shipping it like the Titanic

Sam secretly writes fanfiction between killing monsters and fending off the apocalypse-of-the-day. In heaven, a newly recovered Gabriel discovers smut and decides to try his hand. Because that's all sabriel will ever be for either of them, obviously- a far-off fantasy.

There's no way what they're writing about could ever find its way into their real lives. No way whatsoever.

AO3

Rating: E for Lemon Pairings: Sabriel Words: too many (10k and growing)

Written for the @gabriel-monthly-challenge and encompassing not one, not two, but three of the prompts! Woohoo! A record for me!

This is only half of it, because, as usual, the prompt grew out of proportion, so there will me more. It’ll be posted chapter-wise on AO3, because I know me- there’ll be more details I want to add in!

tagging @warlockwriter, @archangelgabriellives, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @archangelsanonymous, @ttttrickster and @revwinchester!

It started with the play.

Sam had almost forgotten about the Supernatural books- their lives went crazy on such a regular basis that any form of insanity that wasn’t directly threatening their lives tended to be quickly pushed into the background. But it all came back to him in vivid detail as he watched a fifteen-year-old with yellow contacts gleefully daub red paint onto the face of a plastic doll that he was fairly sure was meant to be representing him.

It had been a surreal experience, seeing those schoolgirls play out their various adventures. There was something almost… freeing about it, he realised as he watched the recording again on the way back to the bunker. It really put some of the crazy crap they went through into perspective.

And then Dean had to go and make a big deal out of the… interpretations of the supernatural books. And Sam got curious, okay?

So the next time he had a few hours to himself while Dean was out doing god knew what, Sam got himself a beer from the fridge, sat himself down at the library table, flicked open his laptop and opened a browser tab.

A quick search was more than enough to find what he was looking for. It wasn’t exactly well hidden. The first result in google was the official website for Chuck’s books- it hadn’t aged well. Even back in 2007 when the books were being published Sam would have said it looked outdated. Whoever had designed it obviously wasn’t being paid much. Who ever made official graphics in comic sans? He shook his head, backtracking.

But the link below that led to a rather better curated fan site. Sam narrowed his eyes as he scrolled down. There were the links to the publishers, but also PDFs of the later, unpublished books. There were dates for conventions along with links to get tickets. And at the bottom, there was a series of links to other websites, presumably places to chat with other fans.

He hovered his cursor over the link simply entitled tumblr and clicked.

There was so much. More than Sam had even thought possible for a tiny series of books with a cult following.

He ended spending most of the afternoon falling into the apparently bottomless pit of online fandom. The raft of empty beer bottles at his elbow grew as he roamed his way through the understorey of the internet. He scrolled with fascination through blogs full of pictures edited to look like them, through fan theories of what they were like, and then speculation about things the books didn’t show. Continuations, ‘missing scenes’, and… other things. If Sam never had to accidentally read another poorly-written full-frontal account of Cas and Dean’s fictitious sex life, it would be too soon.

And, well, there were so many things they’d got wrong. Or not quite right. But Sam didn’t feel right about commenting on people’s stories; they didn’t want some randomer coming along and critiquing their characterisation.

So the only way to correct it, he thought with tipsy confidence, was to write it how it had actually happened. He started off small; wrote a few of their more recent hunts, made a blog, and before he could think about it too much, pressed that ‘post’ button.

When he woke up in the morning, he was surprised to find all the notes and comments. Apparently, people liked his writing. A lot.

So he wrote more. And more. Soon Sam was pretty sure he had an addiction. It wasn’t like he had any lack of free time in which to write- Dean was always so stubborn about which of them got to drive, so he had hours and hours of sitting in the passenger seat to fill, and there was only so long he could spend researching.

So his blog quickly grew.

At first, it was strictly real life that he wrote; hunts they’d recently been on, anecdotes, slices of their lives. It helped him to cope, to get all of his thoughts and emotions out of his head and onto paper. But soon, he was branching out into ‘fix it fic’- for him, it was wistful thoughts about possibilities of what could have been if they’d taken different roads. If they’d just managed to save a person here, trusted someone else there. One or two about what might happen if Cas and Dean ever pulled their heads out of their asses.

So he was pretty deep already by the time he stumbled across the Sabriel.

He had just woken up when he found it. He was sitting at the bunker kitchen table, scrolling through his feed over a cup of coffee. Gifset, meta analysis, pictures, art, gif-

Wait.

He got the the end of the post and just stopped scrolling for a second, blinking. Had that art been of him and Gabriel? He scrolled back up.

It was. They were hugging- the artist had got the height difference right, he distantly noted. It was a good likeness even. It was quite chaste compared to a lot of the things that crossed his screen, but there was… something about it. He blinked some more, feeling his forehead scrunch a little as he narrowed his eyes at the screen.

He wasn’t offended by it or anything. Mostly, he was just confused.

Him and Gabriel? Really?

Why?

He and Gabriel had barely known each other. The archangel had hardly talked to him. Even when he had, those words had more often than not been angry. They had started off hunting him after all. And they hadn’t parted mystery spot as friends. Hell, on top of that, Gabriel was dead! Long dead!

Sam clicked on the artist’s profile and scrolled further down, a huff of amused disbelief breaking out of him. The art definitely wasn’t a one-off, and judging from all the reblogs, they were far from the only shipper. No matter what had really happened, these people seemed to think that they had potential.

He sat back, resting his phone down on the table and considering. Huh. What would that even be called? Samiel? Sambriel?

He checked the tags. Sabriel, apparently.

It was impossible. Totally and utterly implausible. Maybe that was what drew him to it. There was no way any of this could work its way into Sam’s real life. He didn’t see any harm in it.

At first it just amused him. But gradually, over time, he found himself starting to seek it out. The ‘incorrect quotes’ made him laugh, either because they were hilariously out of character or (more often than not) hilariously in character. The mood boards made him smile. The art sometimes tugged too-tight at his heart, but it was always amazing. And the fic was something else.

Before he knew it, he was following a whole host of sabriel blogs, reblogging their content to his own. He even made a few friends.

And, gradually? He was starting to see it too. The books had been more revealing about Gabriel than he ever had been in real life. Meta posts pointed out the similarities between their characters, between their stories, and it made Sam realise that they really hadn’t been that different after all. Gabriel had been just as desperate and afraid as he was back then, he’d just had different ways of hiding it. And if the scant number of scenes from Gabriel’s point of view were as accurate as the rest of the books, it certainly looked like he’d had a soft spot for Sam, much as Sam thought he’d never showed it.

Just how many of their interpretations were true? he wondered as he stared at his dimmed computer screen while the streetlamps flashed past on another midnight road. Was there a possibility that, if Gabriel was alive, they could have got along?

He felt a little pang at the thought that they’d never talked at all, really, before he died. Sam felt he knew the archangel better now than he ever had back then. Knowing what he knew now, he wished that he’d at least been friends with him.

In a way, fictional Sam had it better than real him did. The more he read, the more he realised he was craving what his fictional self had; stability, a partner. Someone to come back home to, someone to wrap his arms around at night. It wasn’t like there could ever be any permanent lovers in his real life. He could never keep what he did a secret, or drag someone into this life. And after Eileen, he didn’t have the heart to date anyone within the business. The mortality rate for hunters was just too high.

He looked out the window, shaking his head at himself as they rushed through the night. How sad had his life become? A little voice at the back of his head whispered maliciously. Was he really sitting here daydreaming wistfully about a normal life like some kind of caricature of himself?

Well maybe I am, he retaliated almost angrily. He had few enough permanent good things in his life, and his writing was a lifeline that kept him afloat. It was an escape from the violence and monotony of their lives. It wasn’t hurting anyone. If he wanted to fantasise about having somebody who cared about him, then what the hell, he was gonna do it.

With renewed determination, he opened a new document and started to type.

...

So it went on. He wrote when Amara rose. He wrote then their Mom came back from the dead. He wrote to forget his torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters. He wrote when Cas died, when he lost their Mom, when they found Jack, when Cas returned from the Empty. It was his crutch; whenever things got bad, out came a fresh google doc and onto the page it all went. By the time they were trying to get their Mom back from the apocalypse world, his little blog had over two thousand followers all eagerly awaiting his updates.

So obviously, because this was the Winchester’s luck, that was when Gabriel came back to life.

.o0o.

Gabriel would like it noted down that it was Cas’ fault. For the record.

“Brother. You need to take a break.”

Gabriel looked down at him from heaven’s throne and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. It was a look he’d been perfecting these last few weeks since he’d come back upstairs to reclaim what was left of his birthright and discovered how almost frighteningly easily the other angels fell into line- the first time he’d done it, a cupid had actually keeled over.

Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t back down even half an inch. That seraph had balls of steel. It was one of the things Gabriel liked best about his brother- he had no fear of calling Gabriel out on his bullshit, unlike the rest of the cowardly sycophants up here.

“You have been snapping at the seraphim all week. I believe you need to, as Dean would put it, ‘take a load off’.”

He even crooked his fingers to make the air quotation marks. Adorable.

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “And what do you suggest I do? A zumba class? Go out and commune with nature?”

Castiel was undeterred by his prickly demeanor. “What did you used to do to relax?”

“Mess with dickheads until they died,” Gabriel answered. Cas stared at him blankly, waiting.

“... Make amateur porn?” he suggested.

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and turning with a swish of trench coat. “Just… go and find something to do, Gabriel. Something productive. Read a book,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of heaven’s throne room.

Gabriel scoffed to himself, slouching back on the throne to sulk. Read a book? Like literature could hold his attention at the moment. What he needed to do was get outta here and stop wallowing in his own juices!

But if he was being honest with himself (not something he made a habit of), he really didn’t know what he wanted to do once he did manage to get out. He was… aimless. And the longer he sat here with nothing to distract him, the more those memories lurking at the back of his mind dragged their fingernails against his consciousness.

You know what? Maybe he would read that book.

He stood and snapped himself to the nearest bookstore before he had any more time to chew it over. Walking over to the fiction section, he perused along the shelves. Yes, escapism, that was what he needed!

But nothing appealed. Every damn book he picked up seemed to be either a cheap Game of Thrones knock-off or vampire erotica, and he’d already had his fun with Stephanie Meyer.

He was about to snap himself away again in frustration when he paused. There was something poking out of the discount book bin. That cover looked strangely familiar…

He picked it up, smirking at the hunks on the cover, and turned it over to read the blurb. His eyes widened. Holy guacamole. He couldn’t believe it!

He started laughing, uncontrollable whole-body-shaking hoots that quickly turned into constricted wheezing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. People started backing away from him, but he didn’t care. Oh, this was great! Of all the books that had to catch his eye, it had to be this one. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was Dad-ordained fate.

He nearly skipped up to the counter, slapping the book down next to the cash register. “Hey, you got any more of these?”

The guy behind it eyed him with concern. “Yeah, should be more if you dig in the bottom of the bin. You like them?”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel grinned like a slightly manic shark. “I’m a big fan.”

...

“Father above, their lives are depressing.”

Gabriel tossed the last book off the dais with a sigh, lobbing it neatly through a wormhole. Well, that had helped pass a few hours, at least. But after binging his way through two entire lifetimes’ worth of tragedy and man-tears, he was outta reading material.

What now?

Idly, Gabriel pulled out the phone that Sam had given him the last time he popped down to update them. Installing WiFi in heaven had been the first thing he did when he limped back. His siblings would thank him. Eventually.

He typed ‘supernatural’ into google.

And, wow. His eyes widened. That was a lot of porn. Ah, humanity at their finest- it didn’t matter how angst-soaked the source material was, in his experience, there was always at least one fan who would say, “hmmm this needs more nudity!” And, apparently, this fandom had more than one fan who thought Sam and Dean needed more hanky panky in their lives.

He chuckled, scrolling down the entries. Damn, he liked these people already!

“Bingo.” He clicked on a link.

The site flashed up before his eyes, summaries and ratings in their colourful boxes catching his attention. Now this was more like it! He snapped himself up a big tub of popcorn and dug in.

…

He was half way through the tag when he started finding the sabriel.

For the first time since he’d started reading four days ago, his finger paused on the touchpad. His grin faded a little.

So they’d noticed that, had they? He’d thought it wasn’t too obvious from the books, but humans were intuitive.

Tentatively, he clicked. He read, getting more and more wound up the further down he got.

He snorted to himself as he reached the bottom of the page. Where was the danger? The drama? The strippers? He didn’t belong in a coffee shop AU! He pressed the back button, scowling. He searched the tag itself, and wasn’t much more impressed. Why was there so much domesticity? He was a maverick! A rolling stone!

Hey, maybe he should start writing? Show them all where they were going wrong? Because somewhere along the line they’d clearly got the completely wrong impression of his character.

And okay, he thought as he set himself up an account, so maybe they’d been right about him nursing a little crush on the younger Winchester from afar. That was fine! Nobody in real life needed to know! He could just bury that one at the bottom of the ocean in a mental curse box with all the other things he deliberately didn’t think about. As far as Gabriel was concerned, he would keep all his feelings right here in his chest, and then one day Sam would die, and that would be the end of it. And Gabriel’s heart would shatter into a million tiny shards and he would never be quite right again.

But whatever! Not like that was gonna spillover into what he wrote or anything. No, this work of creative genius was gonna be one-hundred-percent SEX, as many chapters of raunchy, kinky, personal-fantasy-fulfilling porn as he could get out onto paper. No feelings here. None whatsoever.

So he conjured a laptop, opened up a playlist for inspiration, and started to write.

.o0o.

The first time that Sam ever really paid any attention to Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets was when he reblogged the call-out post:

Fandoms-forevr: I don’t care what they say, Sam is always the worst character. No matter what else he’s done, the stans can’t deny the facts; he opened a portal to hell. He opened the cage and started the apocalypse. He’s a selfish, manipulative asshole. Tbh if Sam wasn’t in the books, Dean could be retired by now and not be dragged around cleaning up after Sam’s sorry ass.

Sam apologists, don’t interact.

It had been nearly 3am and most of the way through a bottle of whisky, and Sam had reblogged it as an act of drunken self-flagellation. Then he had flicked his phone off, rolled over, and fallen asleep like a baby seal that had been clubbed over the head with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

He woke up to online carnage.

He thought that the notifications were a hallucination from his raging hangover for a second, but when he blinked they didn’t disappear. His eyes widened as he scrolled down the long list of angry reblogs. Some seemed to be arguing for him, some against him. Who the hell had started all this drama?

He scrolled down to the first reblog.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets reblogged: I’m sorry, but Sam? A ‘selfish, manipulative asshole’? What have you been smoking? Whatever it is, put that blunt down, cos it’s making you delusional.

First off, I know this post is about Sam, but you really think Dean would stop hunting without having to be literally chained to the floor? Puh-lease, that boy isn’t gonna stop moving until he gets hitched to Castiel.

Anyway, back to Sam. You’re wrong. Don’t know how you can’t see that, but here, let me take you to the character optometrist...

And then they went off.

The post kept going, a whole list of passionate arguments. Sam felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He might not agree with their points, but whoever they were, they had style.

Sam had seen people defending him before. He tended to avoid those sorts of posts; it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He knew he didn’t deserve these people’s praise. But for some reason, those usual feelings of guilt and inadequacy weren’t surfacing

The good feelings faded when he opened up his personal messages.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets said: Call yourself a Sam fan? I thought you were meant to be on his side?

Sam frowned at his phone. The reblogs, okay, but personal messaging? Really? His fingers poised over the keys to write an acerbic response, but he restrained himself. He didn’t owe random dickheads on the internet any explanations!

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets… why was that familiar? He’d seen them around once or twice before, he realised; sabriel wasn’t the biggest ship ever, so chances were if someone was on board then Sam would have at least heard of them.

But recently, Gabriel’s real life return had put a bit of a damper on his reading and writing. It was one thing writing yourself into a relationship with someone who was, to all intents and purposes, not real- it was quite another to write yourself sharing a loving embrace with someone who regularly popped in to give you updates on how heaven was doing under new management. He was surprised he could even look Gabriel in the face after some of the things he’d read about them.

That was it! Sam nodded to himself as he realised where he’d seen them before. The kinkmeme. Of course.

He opened up their A03 profile. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing in there less explicit than an E. Half of their fics made Sam blush down to his scalp just by looking at the summaries. There were some… colourful entries in there.

Sam hovered his cursor over the latest fic. With trepidation, he clicked.

“Spank me. It’s the only way I learn.”

Sam waved his cute patootie in the air, already marked with several cherry-red handprints like the naughty boy he was.

“Oh, you’re gonna learn, sweet-cheeks. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Gabriel ran his fingers across the array of toys before him, and as he glanced up, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips, he had never looked more dangerous. Dangerous, powerful and sexy. He picked out the biggest dildo, the one as long as Sam’s arm and twice as shiny, and in one swift thrust he rammed it into his tight little-

“Oh my god,” Sam choked, turning the laptop screen away a little. He needed a moment. That was… that wasn’t physically possible. Or at least, not pleasurable at all. It couldn’t be.

Was it?

He glanced back at the text. It was just morbid curiosity, that was all, he told himself. Just morbid... curiosity…

He read the whole thing. And then another one. And another one.

Sam surreptitiously adjusted his pants. Okay, so they could write, he thought to himself. That didn’t make them any less of an asshole. But he did decide to message them back.

Moose-of-Letters- Look, we’ve got different opinions. Could you just stay in your lane and stop bothering me?

It took a surprisingly short length of time before a reply to pop up.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- I’ll stop bothering you when you aren’t reblogging hate posts

Sam scowled, feeling his temper rise. Who did they think they were, telling him what he could and couldn’t have on his blog? Like their own wasn’t a dumpster fire of discourse posts!

“What you looking at?”

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat, hiding his phone in reflex. Dean was standing behind him, grey robe on, steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Selkie lore,” Sam grunted defensively.

Dean snorted. “What have selkies ever done to you?” Sam looked up again, frowning in confusion. Dean plonked himself down in the seat opposite, pulling the toast towards himself. “You look like you’re ready to open up a can of whoop-ass. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam muttered. “Late night, that’s all.” Dean raised his eyebrows but stayed silent, accepting his answer. Sam angled his phone away from his brother and typed furiously.

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: I’m not going to even bother arguing with you. If we can’t have a conversation like adults, then just fuck off.

He brought up their profile, his finger hovering over the ‘block’ button, but he paused. They were one of his followers.

Maybe… maybe he was being a little harsh. It had been a hate post, and he usually tried to be positive about all the ‘characters’, while he was sober at least- he didn’t normally put up with character hate. He’d been pretty vocal about it in the past. No wonder people had been taken aback, even if this one had dealt with it rudely. Slowly, he took his finger off the button, going back to the chat. How should he phrase this?

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: Look, some of the stuff with Sam is kind of personal for me, it’s a bit too close to home. I’m sorry if I got snappy with you.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Oops. Too late for that

What did that mean? As soon as Sam thought that, his feed updated. And there it was, right at the top.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets posted- The great battle for Sam’s dignity begins. Who woulda thought it but Moose-of-Letters is officially the enemy of the people. I declare war!!

The text was followed by a gif of a pair or armoured knights facing off while brandishing rubber dildos. Already there had been another flurry of reblogs and arguments. Sam rolled his eyes, turning off is phone. Why did he even bother?

…

Gabriel was scrolling down his feed idly. Honestly, as much as he moaned about ruling heaven, there wasn’t that much to do. The most difficult thing he’d solved this morning was a disagreement between the Virtues as to whether the lesser cherubs should be classified using a tiered system or not. Who cared! It didn’t matter!! After that, the inane squabbles of tumblr discourse looked almost sensible.

Almost.

But then, he did enjoy causing chaos and then sitting back and watching everyone fall over themselves in indignation. That was just funny.

And what was even better were the increasingly frustrated and snarky reblogs he’d been getting from an account he’d decided to target after they reblogged that Dad-awful Sam hate post. They’d totally deserved it. He was amazed they hadn’t blocked him yet, but he was taking advantage of having someone to rile up while it lasted. Their replies had been getting progressively more pointed and it gave Gabriel a vicious sort of satisfaction. He was planning another volley of posts this afternoon, and he had some scorching insults lined up.

He reblogged some excellent fanart of Dean in a pair of pink panties (must remember to leave that somewhere for him to find), skipped over another post about the latest tumblr scandal (someone was making earrings out of human bones!?), but then he paused. He felt a flash of excitement- his nemesis was posting again.

Moose-of-Letters posted: Ugh, it annoys me so much when people try to pass Gabriel off as someone who just has loads of sex and eats candy and does nothing else. Like whatever, you want an outlet for your kinks, but it’s just bad characterisation.

Oh, he knew who this was aimed at. He felt his feathers fluff in annoyance. They were vagueing about him? And for all the things they could go for, they decided to take aim at writing. He quickly batted away a twinge of insecurity. It was his aesthetic! Who were they to judge his style? He could write Gabriel however the hell he liked!

He had a strange moment of dissociation where he realised he’d been thinking of himself in the third person, but he brushed it off. Obviously they thought they were just judging a character, but there was no way he couldn’t take this personally. Gabriel was offended on behalf of his fictional self. He opened up a direct message window again.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Look, if you’ve got a problem with my fics, just come into my comments and flame me like a normal person.

It didn’t take long for a reply to come in.

Moose-of-Letters- What makes you think that post’s about your fics? Hmm it’s almost as though you know it’s a flaw in your writing

And then, before Gabriel could do more than gape at his screen in disbelieving insult,

Moose-of-Letters- And it’s not that I don’t enjoy your writing, but I find your characterisation of Gabriel is off. You write him as though he’s just this candy-addicted nymphomaniac when it’s obvious that those things are shields. I was just trying to get people to appreciate that he’s clearly a much more complex character with deeper motivations!

Shields!? Where were they getting this stuff? Gabriel liked sex! He loved sex! All hot people all the time!

Well, the best defence was a good offence.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Well if you’re so high and mighty, how would you characterise Gabriel? Sensitive with a side of Single Man Tears?

The jumping dots appeared under his reply. Then they stopped.

Gabriel smirked. Ha! Come back to that, dickweed!

But then the dots were back, the person on the other end obviously typing furiously. Gabriel watched, waiting for the answer to appear. What the hell were they writing, an essay? A novel? An epic?

Moose-of-Letters- Of course not. He’s an archangel, a warrior. But I think that Gabriel cares a lot more than he lets on. He’s got a huge heart, even though he tries his best to hide it because he’s been hurt by people he cares about. And I think that he feels a lot of hurt about his family. I think that’s why he gets so mad at Sam and Dean in TV land, because they remind him of his brothers, but he knows that he can’t yell at them directly so Sam and Dean get the brunt of his anger instead.

Gabriel winced. Not one of his better moments.

Moose-of-Letters- But I think that even more than loving his brothers, Gabriel loves humanity. In the Elysian Fields motel I think it’s clear that he feels guilty that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the humans from the apocalypse, even though that was never his fault. The Winchesters should have never guilted him into it, because every time he tries to help them he ends up dead.

Well, Moose wasn’t wrong.

The worst part was that he did seem to have Gabriel right so far. The guy had him bang on, whoopie for him. It wasn’t even like they were using that knowledge to insult him- they were defending him, even! But there was something painfully vulnerable about somebody laying out his character like that. Something violating. Like ripping off a scab and leaving the stinging, raw emotions underneath open to the elements.

And it made Gabriel angry. Suddenly, he realised that was what this feeling brewing in his chest and prickling behind his eyes was. His blood was boiling; who were these people to Know him? He hadn’t given out any of this information voluntarily!! It had been ripped from his control, the most intimate workings of his mind printed on pulp and handed out for people on the internet to pick over, like vultures at a carcass.

Suddenly, the books didn’t seem so funny any more. He was starting to realise why the Winchesters had wanted them gone for all these years

Screw his Dad, seriously. A+ parenting all round.

He was about to angrily snap the laptop shut when another message popped up.

Moose-of-Letters- I think all the characters tend to underestimate Gabriel, in different ways, and I think that the writer did too. I just have a lot of admiration for his character because I can relate to a lot of what he’s gone through.

Gabriel deflated. These people didn’t know. They hadn’t got a clue that any of this was real. And this person in particular had obviously seen his character, him, for who he was, but they hadn’t run screaming. They were… defending him?

He stared at the screen, nonplussed. Why?

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You really like Gabriel, huh?

Moose-of-Letters: I think it’s impossible to spend all this time getting to know about someone and not care about them.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: and you think you know him? The real him?

Moose-of-Letters: I’d like to think so. Hey, sorry I came off as an asshole. And I’m sorry if I’ve been an asshole about other things as well. It’s just something I’m really passionate about.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: That makes two of us.

Gabriel quirked an ironic little smile to himself. Even here, in the underbelly of the internet, people were still reminding him why he’d always defended humanity. Their ability for change and forgiveness was something he wished angels had a hang of. He kept typing.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I guess I should apologise for the insults, even if they were super creative. And you’re not a bad writer yourself. My dad was a writer once, and you’re definitely better than him. I’m pretty new to it.

Moose-of-Letters: I’d be happy to give you some pointers if you’ll give me some! your smut is hot as hell ;)

Gabriel laughed, properly this time. Oh, he could already tell this was going to be a very fruitful alliance.

.o0o.

Goldenhorns posted- There’s nothing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along. It’s like watching God and Satan getting pally.

Vatican-came0s commented: Correction; there’s only one thing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along, and it’s seeing them give each other fic suggestions. How the hell is that even happening!?

Gabes-hoe commented: I have no idea, but they will have the most gorgeous plotty-smutty literature babies together

Guess_who_lost_a_shoe commented: I for one welcome our new fic creating overlords!

Gabriel smirked as he saw the post crop up on his dash. It was definitely more entertaining watching everyone’s sudden confusion at them getting along than it ever had been when he was trying to make them angry.

It was the strangest friendship he’d ever made, and coming from someone who’d spent several centuries as a trickster god, that was saying something.

But he and Moose (as he’d insisted on calling him) had started talking more and more over the last three weeks, and the more they talked, the more Gabriel was realising that they had in common. Seeing his own character through someone else’s eyes was fascinating. And Moose was great once he’d got to know him- they might have different approaches to writing fic, but he was kind, level-headed, and an amazing writer with some awesome ideas. Gabriel was writing more now than he had in months-

“Gabriel, are you even listening?” Cas’ deep voice interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel’s head jerked up to where he was standing in front of the throne.

“Hmm yeah. Uh. What?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You are distracted again, brother. At least pretend to pay attention.”

But it was no use, not when his new favourite commenter popped up in his notifications. Gabriel snatched a glance at his notes between appointments. Oooh, Moose was commenting on his WIPs.

Moose-of-Letters- Love the descriptions! Maybe put a short bridging scene between them meeting in the club and getting to the shibari, though? The transition feels a little abrupt.

Gabriel nodded to himself. Moose was right, it did need another scene in there before it got to the bondage part- he’d do that later. But working on his ever-growing library would have to wait. He turned his phone to silent, stowing it in a pocket. It was almost time for the weekly appointment he looked forward to and dreaded in equal measure; going to visit Sam.

.o0o.

Sam had spent most of the morning alternating between frantically researching or repeatedly checking his phone, trying to keep himself busy enough with making protective hex bags for the new hunters that he could stay calm and prepare himself for Gabriel's weekly visit. But he still didn’t feel either calm or prepared when the beating of wings filled the kitchen.

Gabriel appeared with a pop in front of him, tugging the collar of that leather jacket he favoured these days back into place. The archangel nodded at him, looking him up and down. “Sam.”

“Gabe.” Internally, Sam winced. Was ‘Gabe’ too informal? It felt too informal. Was it something he’d picked up from everything he’d been reading? He didn’t know any more! Fanfiction wasn't reality, he knew that damnit, but sometimes it just slipped out-

Gabriel, thankfully, didn’t seem to have noticed his internal struggle. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his arms swinging stiffly at his sides as he looked around the kitchen like he felt the awkwardness as keenly as Sam did.

The silence stretched out painfully. Sam had to say something. Anything.

“How are you?” he blurted, at the same time as Gabriel said, “So, wotcha been doing down here?” Sam snapped his mouth shut. Gabriel smirked, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Ladies first.”

Normally, this would be where Sam would fire back something witty before they got down to business. But some fanart Sam had seen of Gabriel posing in an extremely short skirt and silky, lacy lingerie under it appeared behind his eyes like a goddamn real life pop-up. Sam cleared his throat, shaking it off.

They managed to get through most of Sam’s updates on the new hunters without him embarrassing himself, which Sam thought was a serious achievement. At some point they moved to sit at the kitchen table, Sam with his hands clasped in front of him. Gabriel was fiddling absentmindedly with one of the pieces of string Sam had been using to make the hex bags while Sam talked. “So yeah, we managed to get that demon nest cleared up before they could kill anyone else. I was worried we might have something more powerful on our hands, but it looks like it was just a very charismatic leader. I think he was running for candidacy for the king of hell.”

Gabriel nodded as he listened to Sam intently, twirling the string between his fingers, snapping it tight before letting it go slack again. “Good. As long as everyone downstairs is still distracted, we should be able to get established before they rally.” He glanced up. Was Sam imagining the way that tawny gaze softened when Gabriel looked at him? Was he searching for fondness that wasn’t there? He couldn’t tell any more.

Gabriel sat back with a dramatic sigh. “We’re nearly good to go up there, the souls and heavens are finally stable but I’m still trying to find another angel apart from Cassie with more personality than a banana skin…”

Sam found his attention trailing off, Gabriel’s hands holding his gaze, those clever fingers twisting and pulling at the string. A scene flashed past his eyes from Trickster’s latest fic that he’d read just that morning-

Gabriel gave one last tug on the ropes, pulling them tight. He looked down in satisfaction at the intricate series of loops holding his lover exactly where he wanted him- bent over the bed, legs slightly spread, back arched beautifully. An entire smorgasbord of skin, all laid out for him to enjoy.

Sam whined behind his gag. Gabriel could see him testing the knots, flexing his arms where they were tied behind his back, but he knew they would hold. Those tanned muscular thighs, gleaming with sweat, were straining against the ropes, but he was rocking against the silk sheets in a way that made it very clear he was still helplessly turned on.

Gabriel rested one hand against his back, stilling him. Slowly, he soothed the hand upwards, and Sam melted at the contact. Finally he relaxed into the ropes’ embrace. The sight of Sam so willingly submitting himself to Gabriel’s complete control fanned the hunger burning in his gut flare into a roar-

“Sam? Hey, gigantor! Anybody home?”

Sam jerked, his eyes flashing guiltily to Gabriel’s. Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow. Sam, to his mortification, felt himself flush scarlet. Gabriel’s eyebrow nearly disappeared into his hair.

Damn it, Sam, get it together! “Just… uh…” Sam cleared his throat. “Just thinking about demons. Uuuh, about going back to look for any we missed. Just in case. And we’re going to hunt wha I’m pretty sure is a chupacabra later, so… yeah. That as well.”

“Okay,” Gabriel still looked dubious. “Aaanyway, I gotta be getting back. The cherubs get jittery without someone telling them what to do every second of every day. But I should be back same time next week. What day is it again?”

Sam felt a lead weight form in his gut. He had to know, didn’t he? But time ran differently in heaven.

“It’s… it’s a Tuesday.” He couldn’t help the way his voice stuttered on that last word. Even after all these years, Dean still had to change the station whenever Asia came on the radio.

Sam saw Gabriel’s eyes widen. He froze awkwardly, his usual confident smirk slipping. Sam had no doubt that they were both thinking of the same thing- the six months that Sam had spent trapped in that time loop. The silence thickened.

Gabriel opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, grimaced, and Sam waited, his breath catching for a drawn-out second. Were they finally going to talk about this?

Then Gabriel closed it again in a huff. Sam tried not to show his slump of disappointment.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yeah, see you-” there was a flurry of flapping and Gabriel disappeared, “-next week,” Sam sighed.

He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. Well, that could have gone better. Time to drown his sorrows in fanfiction.

.o0o.

Gabriel was in too deep, and he knew it.

He scowled at his latest WIP. He’d retreated to his favourite spot in the Garden and pulled up the kinkmeme prompt as soon as he got back from his little trip earth-side in the hopes that it would drive any residual anxiety out of his brain. No luck there. This was supposed to be porn, dad-damn it! So why were they still talking? Why were they having a meaningful conversation instead of getting down and dirty? Where the hell had all these feelings come from?

He leaned back against the trunk of the nearest tree, staring out moodily across the sunlit clearing and the vast forest beyond. The problem, he grumped to himself, was what had happened that afternoon. He had put his foot in his mouth, again. Which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. There weren’t that many safe topics outside of work when it came to Sam.

And he had wanted to talk to Sam about Mystery Spot this time, he had! He wanted to move past this. He’d tried to get the words out. But as usual, he’d frozen, and his cowardice had won out. And then he’d run away. What the hell had he been thinking!?

Sam was his friend. Probably his last friend outside of heaven (well, apart from Moose). Sam had seen him at his lowest, cleaned him up and taken out those damn stitches, brought him back from being locked within his own mind, hell, even jumped in front of him to deflect Michael’s blade during that last desperate battle in the apocalypse world. Gabriel had hurt him and he wanted to fix it, but he just couldn’t get the words out.

A gentle breeze stirred around him. He took a deep breath of the sweet air, looking out into the once-busy emptiness of heaven.

Well, if he couldn’t apologise to Sam, at least fictional him could. Maybe it was time to take a leaf out of Moose’s book.

.o0o.

Sam bolted up the stairs, flinging himself into the nearest room and looking around wildly. Unfortunately it looked like it was a dead end- the window of the deserted shack was too small to squeeze through. Should he go and try another room?

But he was too late. The sound of the chupacabra they were hunting climbing it’s way up the stairs reached him. Shit! He’d have to hide.

Sam looked around, spotting a cupboard in the corner. He grimaced, climbing in. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Silently, he pulled the doors shut behind himself.

The creature reached the top of the stairs. There was a muted clicking of claws on wood. The overloaded groan of a floorboard.

The chupacabra stopped. It sniffed the air. Through the tiny gap between the doors, Sam could see its forked tongue flickering out to taste the air, bulging eyes peering around the room. Sam held his breath and hoped that its hearing wasn’t sharp enough to pick up his heart thumping against his ribs.

It hitched in a breath, and sneezed violently. Sam flinched. His grip on his machete was so tight that he was sure his knuckles were turning white. It snorted, shaking itself with a rattle of spines.

With another grunt, it turned to leave. Sam dared to take the thinnest breath. His muscles relaxed just slightly.

PING!

The monster whirled. It’s lamplight eyes pinpointed the cupboard. Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with the notification and had a moment to screw his eyes shut. Fuck! Why hadn’t he turned it off when they started!?

Luckily, at that moment, Dean’s war cry split the air. Sam leapt from the cupboard, machete already swinging. He could berate himself later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

…

“Was the flamethrower really necessary?”

Dean looked back in satisfaction at the smoking remains of the shack. “The flamethrower is always necessary.”

Sam rolled his eyes, sliding into the front seat. He hoped he got soot on the upholstery.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he was relieved to see that it didn’t appear to have been damaged in the fight. The screen was still whole. He powered it on, and there it was, the notification that had nearly got him killed.

Archive Of Our Own

[AO3] Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets just posted a new work :)

Sam groaned. Fanfiction was literally going to be the death of him.

.o0o.

Moose-of-Letters commented: Hey, I like the new fic, it’s different from your usual. Sorry I didn’t comment earlier, I was a bit distracted.

Gabriel smiled as he opened his email. His new favourite commenter had picked up on it, because of course they had.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Yeah, guess this fic is your influence ;)

It had stuck with him, that conversation with Sam. Or rather, the parts of it that hadn’t happened. He’d been thinking about it, really thinking about it, in the times between his heavenly appointments.

Re-reading the book featuring Mystery Spot from Sam’s point of view had been quite an eye-opener. He’d been so focused, the first time, on getting Sam to stop that he hadn’t truly realised what he was doing to him in his desperation. It had made him wonder- what would he do, if he could go back and change it all? Knowing what he did now, would he have been able to make a difference? He thought he might.

And if he were to talk to Sam about it now, what could he ever say to apologise to Sam for what he’d done to him?

A lot of that had made it onto the page. It was heavier than what he usually wrote, but somehow Gabriel felt lighter for it.

Moose-of-Letters: About the Mystery Spot, do you really think that Gabriel was doing any of that for Sam?

Gabriel sighed. He should have known that Moose would want to talk characterisation. What should he say?

Well, there was nothing stopping him from telling the truth.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I think he was doing that all for Sam. Gabriel was just trying to prepare Sam for Dean’s inevitable death- he knew the apocalypse was about to go down, remember? He knew what was coming, and he was trying to avert it.

Gabriel bit his lip, his fingers pausing over the keyboard. Was he really gonna pour his heart out to random strangers on the internet? Really?

But now he started, he just couldn’t seem to stop his fingers. And anyway, Moose wasn’t really a stranger at this point.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Gabriel couldn’t go to Sam directly because he’s got a soft spot for him. He likes him. He doesn’t like seeing humans get hurt who don’t deserve it, and the fact that his brothers are gonna cause so much destruction and he can’t do a thing to stop it is breaking his heart. That bit at the end where he gives in? He just couldn’t do it anymore, Sam out-stubborns him. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Sam hurting, and in the end? That’s why he failed. His love for humans is his weakness, the way he cares for Sam in particular.

There. It was out.

Gabriel pushed his laptop away, closing his eyes and resting his face in his hands. He needed a moment.

.o0o.

Sam sat back. Huh.

He honestly hadn’t expected Trickster’s first foray into more serious fics to be much good. Not because he couldn’t write- obviously he could, his work had been featuring heavily in Sam’s spank bank (as Dean would call it) for months now. Heavy-hitting just wasn’t his speciality, that was all.

But he had written it. And it was good.

It was emotional, and raw, and almost painfully in-character. Gabriel’s confession, his betrayal and his grief and anger and guilt were all so real that Sam wondered if Trickster had gone through something similar in his own life. He hadn’t been able to resist asking what Trickster thought Gabriel’s motivations were. He wished he could be as sure as Trickster was that Mystery Spot had been about Gabriel trying to save him. And he secretly doubted that Gabriel had given up his attempt because he cared for him. Not in real life.

But he could let himself live this fantasy for just a little longer, couldn’t he? He felt a pang in his heart that he was never going to have this conversation with Gabriel himself. This was probably as close as he was ever gonna get.

Slowly, Sam started typing.

Moose-of-Letters- Well, I think you’re right about Sam being stubborn. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Sam didn’t learn that lesson- I don’t think he ever would have. He was in too deep to ever realise what Gabriel was trying to say.

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. He started typing again.

Moose-of-Letters- I think they would both have been a lot happier if Gabriel had been able to get through to him. I wish it had gone like your fic in canon.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You and me both, Moose.

Sam smiled sadly. If only.

Moose-of-Letters- I’m not sure you’re right about Gabriel’s mercy being his weakness though. His love for humanity is what makes him different from his brothers. It’s what makes him human- it’s the thing that really drew me to his character in the first place. His love for humans might put him in the firing line, but I think it’s one of his greatest strengths as well. And I think his incredible empathy is one of the reasons why Sam would love him, as well as everything else they have in common. When it comes down to it, he’s ready to lay down everything for humanity too. They’re really kindred spirits.

Moose-of-Letters- Maybe if you’re trying angst I should give smut a go :P

And really, everything went downhill from there.

Part 2, coming soon!

#lemon #sabriel #a citrusy boi #Gabriel Monthly Challenge

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dysphoric-dumbass13 · 5 years

Note

All of the bookish asks. I hate you. And your stupid fucking face. Im so tired dude i stayed up ridiculously late to finish that

Hey I stayed up ridiculously late to finish mine too. Well not ridiculously late because me and then I couldn't fall asleep anyways but whatever. And you literally love me you jackass.

1. (what book did you last finish? when was that?) Willingly? Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli, in July. For school? Of Mice And Men. I didn’t care that much, and I forgot to finish A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but I still finished my project fine without any issue whatsoever and should get at least a B, if not an A. But whatever.

2. (what are you currently reading?) The Odyssey, for school. But also I’m like ¾ of the way through What If It’s Us by Adam Silvera and Becky Albertalli. (what book are you planning to read next?) Well for English it will have to be A Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass by Fredrick Douglass, Night by Elie Wiesel, Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston, or Lord of the Flies by William Golding. However, I really want to read The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. And I’m also trying to get a hold of the Harry Potter books because I haven’t read them since I was 7, and I was a compulsive moron so I read them out of order based on length and the title. I did that a lot.

3. (what was the last book you added to your tbr?) I don’t fully know what it means by that, but I’ll give this a try. The last thing I remember actively seeking out that I need to read again (for writing purposes, and the fact that I’m a nerdy bastard) was the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.

4. (which book did you last re-read?) Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli, I loved it so much that I read it twice in one month. I also re-read Simon vs. the Homosapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli twice before moving to the former.

5. (which was the last book you really, really loved?) Again, Leah on the Offbeat. I loved that book so much oh my god.

6. (what was/were the last books you bought?) I actually bought 3 books in September (after I got all my books for English), which were Leah on the Offbeat, Simon vs. the Homosapiens Agenda, and The Song of Achilles.

7. (paperback or hardcover? why?) Paperback. The hurt less to hold while reading, and they’re cheaper so I can buy more of them. But I do love a hardcover book if the cover is really intricate and beautiful.

8. (ya, na, or adult? why?) Idk. To me it doesn’t matter all that much as long as it’s a good book. I really like anything that isn’t racist, sexist, super heteronormative, transphobic, or hating of any particular religion (except like if it’s vaguely poking fun at catholicism and christianity because we deserve it)

9. (sci-fi or fantasy? why?) Fantasy. God I just fucking LOVE fantasy. I wrote a 20,000-word oneshot that was of the fantasy genre. I just love it too much.

10. (classic or modern? why?) Idk. Doesn’t really matter, again, as long as it isn’t racist, transphobic, against a religious group, or too heteronormative.

12. (political memoirs or comedic memoirs?) Idk man. But I hate politics in every way, shape, and form, so I’m gonna go with comedic memoirs.

13. (name a book with a really bad movie/tv adaptation) Um………. idk. I’m gonna go with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire simply because of the fact that they cut so much out and, sorry not sorry, if the whole series was written by someone not transphobic, homophobic, and antisemitic it would be better. It’s great, but it could be so much better.

14. (name a book where the movie/tv adaptation was actually better than the original) Again idk. I’m gonna say The Princess Bride because that movie is so fucking good guys.

15. (what book changed your life?) I know it’s not technically a book book, but Unknown Colors by Gabriels_Wings on Wattpad. It got me into reading again and that’s only benefitted me so far (except for distracting me from homework, but who cares).

16. (if you could bring three books to a deserted island, which would they be and why?) Well, obviously, Simon vs the Homosapiens Agenda and Leah on the Offbeat (ok I’m gonna some up with abbreviations now, LotO for the latter and SvtHA for the former), and the last spot would be between The Song of Achilles and The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein. Because they’re good books. And I’m gonna end up dying on said island and I need my gay fix with me.

17. (if you owned a bookshop what would you call it?) Oof, that’s hard. Probably….. Narnia. And it would be a very gay place with beanbags and a small coffee shop inside and it would be like this one place my mom went to all the time where you could buy a book and if you wanted to you could bring it back and they’d buy it back for slightly less than you bought it for. It was a great place. And my bookshop would be amazing.

18. (which character from a book is the most like you?) Toughie. I’m gonna go with… Blaise Zabini from Harry Potter or Abby Suso from SvtHA and LotO. Because Blaise is very gay and sassy (idk if he actually is in the books but hey, fanfiction) and Abby is a bi disaster and relatable af.

19. (which character from a book is the least like you?) Idk. Hannah Abbott? Because she’s a Hufflepuff? Idk man.

20. (best summer read?) LotO.

21. (best winter read?) Been a while since I actually remember reading a book in winter. I remember when I was in 5th grade I really loved reading Where The Mountain Meets The Moon by Grace Lin. That was good. But I think The Hobbit would be good too.

22. (pro or anti e-readers? why?) Pro, it makes reading at random places so much easier. Plus, I can then read gay fanfic at my christian grandparents’ houses.

23. (bookdepository or amazon?) I’ve never used Book Depository, but I looked it up (omg Kass you aren’t going to believe it, I googled something on my own!) and it seems smaller and cooler because it’s just books. So I’m gonna go with that one.

24. (do you prefer to buy books online or in a bookshop?) In a bookshop without a doubt, you can browse for hours. I love bookshops

25. (if you could be a character in a book for just one day, who would you be and why? bonus: any specific day in the story?) Simon Spier. From SvtHA. On the day of the carnival fair thing. Because zqawxsedcrfvtgbyhnujmikolplomiknujybhtvgrfcedxwszqa

26. (if you could be a character in a book for their entire life, who would you be and why?) Again Simon Spier. Because infdjfcdncewhfiubdkjcnsoawehfwedscnsaoufgrwiofbv cisahcsoainh

27. (if you could change one thing about mainstream literature, what would you change?) NO. MORE. DISCRIMINATION! And I swear to god people, quit idolizing authors who are racist or sexist or transphobic or homophobic or against certain religions or anything else because I swear they don’t deserve it! No more discrimination in the media guys.

28. (how many books have you read so far this year?) A lot. Idk the actual amount but a lot. Especially if we’re counting fanfic.

29. (how do you sort your shelves?) I don’t actually own enough books to sort lol. But I assume I would sort them alphabetically by author. And if I had a ton of books, I’d sort them further into genres.

30. (who’s your favorite author?) Becky Albertalli.

31. (who’s your favorite contemporary author?) Idk. I’m not that smart, I don’t put authors into genre categories.

32. (who’s your favorite fantasy author?) See above.

33. (who’s your favorite sci-fi author?) See above.

34. (list 5 otps) Oh god, here I go. Pansmione (Pansy Parkinson x Hermione Granger from Harry Potter), Wolfstar (Remus Lupin x Sirius Black from Harry Potter), Sabriel (Sam Winchester x Gabriel from Supernatural), Johnlock (John Watson x Sherlock from Sherlock), and Merthur (Merlin x Arthur Pendragon from Merlin).

35. (name a book you consider to be terribly underrated) What If It’s Us by Adam Silvera and Becky Albertalli.

36. (name a book you consider to be terribly overrated) Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck.

37. (how many books are actually in your bookshelf/shelves right now?) 19, including a book I accidentally stole from my 7th grade LA teacher (sorry), and a college workbook I stole from my dad on lifesaving first aid for heart problems. + 1 movie (Love, Simon), 5 comic books, and an adult coloring book because why not. I also have 2 full boxes downstairs full of kids books (about half of which I've never read or have any interest in reading) from when I moved.

38. (what language do you most often read in?) English because I’m a dumb bitch and don’t know other languages well enough. I might be able to stumble through a kid’s book in French, and I could read a basic novel in Spanish.

39. (name one of your favorite childhood books) Goodnight Moon was one of my favorites. I also was obsessed with Where The Mountain Meets The Moon by Grace Lin, and when I was about 5 my mom would read The Hobbit to my brother and I when she got home from work if she was working a half day, or she wasn’t held up too late on a normal day. Ah, some actually decent childhood memories.

40. (name one of your favorite books from your teenage years) SvtHA.

41. (do you own a library card? How often do you use it?) Yeah, and decently often.

42. (which was the best book you had to read in school?) The Outsiders. In 7th grade.

43. (are you the kind of person who reads several books at once or the kind of person who can only read one book at a time?) Multiple at once. I kind of have to if I want to read for fun while I’m in school.

44. (do you like to listen to music when you read?) Honestly, my mind is like an iPod I can’t fully control, I was laying in my bed half asleep singing What I Got yesterday morning for no reason, so I don’t have a choice. There’s more of a choice if I’m listening to music, so yes.

45. (what is your favorite thing to eat when you read?) Nothing? I don’t really like to eat when I’m reading, unless I’m reading on my phone and then it doesn’t really matter. But when I'm reading I usually forget to eat.

46. (what is your favorite thing to drink when you read?) Tea. Without a doubt. If I’m not too lazy to make it, that is.

47. (what do you do to get out of a reading slump?) Well, I do one of two things. I either try to convince Kass (@eyeforaneye-toothforatooth) to write something for me, or I’ll write (because I know I have to read over it a bajillion times, and I write too much for anyone’s good)

48. (where is your favorite place to read?) In my mind palace. I have a little place in my mind palace that I go when I’m reading or writing, and it changes. Sometimes it’s in a cottage at night with the only light a fireplace that I’m sitting in front of, sometimes it’s leaned against a tree. Three of my favorites are leaning against a cherry blossom tree looking out at a river, on a beanbag in a cozy, quiet bookshop/library, and on a beach in Roatan, Honduras. Other than that, it’s curled up on my UFO couch in my front living room, in front of the gigantic window.

49. (when is your favorite time to read?) It actually depends on the season. In the summer, always because I don’t want to go outside because it’s too hot. In the winter it’s during the evening. Spring it’s early in the morning. Fall it’s around sunset.

50. (why do you love to read?) Because you’re taking yourself and delving into a different universe, where nothing you know exists and only what you’re reading does. It takes me away from the world and all of my struggles, and puts me somewhere where that doesn’t exist. It’s refreshing. I hate you too

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omgilostmyshoe · 5 years

Text

Sabriel Week 2019. Day Six: Neighbours/Roommates

Waiting for Superman

(title from the song by Daughtry)

Rating: T

Pairing: Sabriel

Wordcount: 2028

Tags and Warnings: Human AU, K9 Unit Officer Sam Winchester, Author Gabriel, Aromantic Gabriel, Tooth-rotting fluff.

@sabrielevents

What to do when you find a stranger in your hallway, trying to get to the neighbor that is no longer there? You can try giving some advice on the cheap hotels nearby or just ignore him. Sam, however, is the officer of the law and cannot just let the man vanish into the night. Especially, such a cute man. So, he might as well offer him to stay until morning... Or until death does them apart.

"Police, freeze! Hands where I can see them!"

Sam reacts instinctively when he finds a stranger, trying to get into his neighbor's closed door.

The man in question freezes, following the commands, even though all Sam has is the dog on a leash. Which is actually quite a lot, considering that said dog is a trained police animal.

"Turn around and identify yourself!"

Again, the man complies instantly, his face changing from slightly concerned to surprised, when he sees the one who was giving out the orders. Sam knows that out of the uniform, without his badge or a gun, all of which are in the apartment, he can't really prove that he's a cop.

But he stands his ground, just as the dog at his side also stared down a possible foe.

"I'm Gabriel Novak. Just flew in, planned to crash in with my girlfriend, Ro. She lives there." The man still doesn't lower his arms, just points with one finger at the door he was fiddling with. "But it seems nobody is home..."

"She moved out. About a week ago. Said she's moving to Europe or something. And please, lower your arms... You can relax."

The more Sam talks, the more Gabriel face falls. He's handsome, but visibly tired, the dust of the road and lightning of the hall accentuating the lines of his face.

While wondering, what to do, Sam automatically pats the dog at his side, who relaxed as his owner does.

His neighbor was rather adventurous, her apartment always filled with new people, men and women alike. She loved to talk, but never would confess her own name. Her favorite subject of gossip though, when she managed to catch Sam, were her numerous lovers.

Mostly it was in some odd hours of the night, when after the double shift or an emergency, Sam was returning after a dog walk. The woman would glide out of her apartment--her gait couldn't be described any other way--and just start talking.

So this is how he knows, sort of, who the man before him is.

He was one of her more or less steady flames, Gabe, as she called him. Author of some books or something, always on the move, always traveling. Which is why their meetings were very few and far in between, but so hot she could not help herself but to "keep him," as she put it. Except now he wanted something more permanent, settling in New York for at least a year, and in the last conversation, Ro was lamenting how, "Gabe was getting clingy".

Apparently, her way of saying goodbye to clingy lovers was to move to the other side of the world without warning. Or anything.

"So... What's his name?"

Gabriel is the first to break the awkward silence, watching the dog at Sam's feet with a weak smile.

"Dogmeat." Sam grits out, readying himself for a joke, that he heard plenty, but Gabriel surprises him. He only lightly laughs and nods, winking at the animal.

"Good choice, and very good look alike. Though I certainly would like your version better if I could pet him."

It seems surprises would never cease today, as Dogmeat does the maximum his ironclad training allows. He quietly whines and tugs at the leash lightly, indicating that he would very much like to be petted by Gabriel. With a cautious stare, Sam hesitates, looking from the German shepherd to Gabriel again.

"So, no problems with dogs?"

"Is loving them too much counts as a problem?"

Sam chuckles and releases the dog, giving a freeing command. Dogmeat runs like a torpedo, paws scrambling on the slippery tile floor.

His furry body collides with Gabriel legs and the dog whines and wags his tail happily as the man immediately starts petting him.

Soon, Dogmeat is on the floor, all four legs up, his belly exposed for the expert rubs that Gabriel bestows, and Sam is left just to stare in amazement.

Even though his dog's reactions are the perfect judge of character already he, after getting permission, still snaps a pic of Gabriel, focusing on his face. The man probably thinks it's for a cute moment with the dog--which it is, partially--but Sam also sends the pic to Jody, asking to run an urgent background check and attaches a name.

In the meantime, Dogmeat having gotten plenty of belly rubs now stands and starts licking all over Gabriel's face, neck and even his hair.

Sam just got to save the poor man, a quiet call of dog's name enough to stop the shower of slobbery affections, and Gabriel nods gratefully.

He wisely doesn't speak before getting a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his face of the worst of the damage.

"He likes you," Sam announces, perhaps a bit unnecessary, after the clear approval his dog shown this man.

"Well, at least somebody does, that's good."

He jokes, and smiles again, but Sam can see the exhaustion that weighs on him, and it's probably not all physical. Going to somebody you care about, expecting to find at least a place to rest and a friendly face, and finding only the closed door... That must be harsh.

"You don't seem so bad to me either," Sam gives up, smirking, and finally this gets his a more genuine and energetic response. He likes as Gabriel's face morphs and he smirks in return, winking again, now to Sam, which is just as effective as it was on his dog. He can’t say he’s ready to drop on all fours before the man just yet, but it’s a pretty close call.

"Which is why I'm gonna do you a favor."

"Oh?"

As Sam finally goes to unlock his door, Dogmeat glued to his side in the familiar formation, Gabriel tenses. Sam notices but does not comment, just gestures to the couple of suitcases, that are tucked in the corner of the hall.

"You need a place to stay the night, at least. As an officer of the law, I can't in good conscience simply leave you out in the cold at,” He checks his watch, “4 am." He then opens the door and ushers the dog inside, who promptly lays down at her appointed spot, waiting for the wash and feeding.

"So, you actually are a cop? Can I see the badge?"

A curious tilt of the head cannot hide a guarded stare Gabriel levels him with.

"Sure," that request is easy and actually sensible, making Sam like the man more and more, and with just a half a minute rummaging in the apartment, he shows off his credentials to Gabriel. Who hasn't moved much, though Sam noticed he and his suitcases had shifted a little closer to the exit, ready to bolt if needed with minimum casualties.

Sam smiles approvingly, wishing every citizen would be as vigilant and careful with their life and health. Perhaps then he wouldn't need to work as much.

On the other hand, that way, he might have not caught this late shift.

He might not have met Gabriel.

Who finally surrenders and rolls the suitcases in, while accessing Sam's home with a curious glance.

Dogmeat wags his tail happily from his spot, watching two people interact, talk, and touch.

It's just a random connection, as Sam helps Gabriel to shrug off the tangled coat.

But as Gabriel lifts his amber eyes, hand not moving from Sam's bare forearms, sending a wave of goosebumps from the contact, he speaks, low and serious.

"Thank you, Superman."

"You're welcome... What?"

And then Gabriel breaks out in a fit of giggles, breaking the moment and the contact, pointing at Sam's shirt, that does bear the symbol of the aforementioned superhero.

"You still haven't told me your name."

Sam blushes, running a hand through his hair and huffing and embarrassed laugh himself.

"Sorry. Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you."

They shake hands, and there it is again.

Eye contact, catching, getting a lot longer than necessary, and Sam feels as his palm is enveloped in both of Gabriel's hands now, warm and dry.

"It truly is."

Sam turns in the bed, trying to escape the sun shining through the crack in the curtains.

As soon as he settles back into the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows and blessed darkness however, there is a broad wet tongue on his face, licking him thoroughly.

"Gabe, leave me alone. Day offff..." Sam mumbled, half asleep, hiding his face below his arms, shoving the loving attention away. Because really, he was promised a good rest tonight with as much sleep as he could handle.

"Wow, now I feel really offended, you can't even tell the difference between us."

Mocking remark sounds from the foot of the bed, definitely not from anywhere near his head, and Sam jumps up, eyes bleary, and trying to kick his brain into working mode.

He relaxes, finding Gabriel, not on the bed, only standing near, a tray laden with dishes in his hands.

The check of the bed reveals a bouncy Dogmeat, who's blinking happily at Sam.

"Off the bed! Now!"

The dog scatters off, properly shamed. For the moment, at least, until Gabe finds another way to sneak some treats to him or something.

Gabriel stalks closer, settling a tray across Sam's knees above the blanket. It is barely able to fit all the mugs, plates and saucers stacked onto it, all filled with delicious foods, and two main dishes even covered with fancy metallic domes.

"What's the occasion, Gabe? This seems like a lot."

He knows the answer, but he just likes to hear it. So he asks.

"Well, today

the day. It has been whole three years since we became roommates." Gabriel announces dramatically, even finishing off with a flashy shake of his hair, that got a lot longer, brown curls reaching his shoulders now.

"Seriously? Roommates? That's what you're going with?"

It is hard to keep a straight face while Gabriel does his thing, pouting and staring imploringly.

"Roommates with benefits?" Under Sam's raising his brows, unimpressed, and him fighting a smile, that probably got his face in a strange twitching grimace, Gabe gives up.

"Okay, okay. Three years anniversary, my lovely boyfriend Superman. I'm happy you're still with me, and, as astounding that is, still love me."

Sam ignores the pet name, that of course stuck--Dean laughed his ass off at that one--and pulls his boyfriend into a grateful kiss.

After a tender and long moment they separate, barely, Gabe smiling softly. Sam though, he looks into the amber eyes deeply, not searching or waiting for anything. He is long made his peace with how they are.

"Always. Happy anniversary."

The next kiss is longer, lingering, Sam clutching onto Gabe's thin shirt to tug him closer. They stop only when the tray clangs alarmingly, and both giggle before moving everything around.

Gabe slides under the blanket, cuddling to Sam's side and--dramatic as ever--reveals the first dish, lifting the dome covering.

The plate is practically drowning in maple syrup that drips from the impressive stack of fresh pancakes.

"That's... very sweet," Mumbles Sam, eyeing the stack.

"Indeed it is, which is exactly why I cooked it for myself. Yours is this one, my favorite health nut."

And with a loud smooch to the cheek, Gabe lifts the dome from the second plate, this one with totally different contents. A bowl with oatmeal--egg, steamed vegetables, and a little cheese on top--front and center, its aroma and sight mouthwatering. It is surrounded by different kinds of toasts: avocado, more vegetables, fresh this time, mixed in with Sam's favorite Italian cheeses.

"Thank you, Gabe... This is perfect."

It really is, the tray filled with both of their favorite items, lovingly prepared and carefully arranged. Gabe waves off the gratitude, but his smile says it all.

Before digging into the feast, Sam steals another thorough kiss from his boyfriend, deep and passionate.

They even actually manage to eat before falling into bed to satisfy a different hunger and between more kisses, Sam whispers, again and again,

"You are perfect. I love you."

#sabrielweek2019 #my writing #Sabriel fic #fluff #so much fluff #Human AU #Aromantic Gabriel

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midnightstar789 · 5 years

Text

A/B/O Sabriel week day 2

WARNINGS: Gabe’s a dick(idiot) Sam’s control is unheard of, Cas is an Angel(not literly) and Dean helps(except when he doesn’t)

No idea whats after the end, have had writers block on this since it word vomited it’s way to life a while ago. Input appreacitated.

Sam looked up from his textbook as Gabriel burst into the dorm room.

“I need you to give me a hicky.” Gabe ordered as he shoved the Alpha’s chair away from the desk, dropping onto his lap and baring his neck. Sam stared at him unsure as to why he needed him to do so.

“Gabe, what? Why do you-?”

“Because Kali won't believe that she's got competition for me otherwise, Samster!” Gabriel interrupted Sam while scooting closer to the alpha. He watched the Alpha's face, as he closed his eyes, face twisting in a grimace.

“Fine. But only this once, got it Gabriel?” the omega nodded, before baring his neck again. Sam seemed to deflate towards him, folding his body down to gently suck a medium sized purple mark in the middle of his neck.

“There now get off me, I have to study.” Sam said as he pushed the omega off his lap. Gabriel barely got his feet under him in time. Frowning at the oddly hostile alpha he stalked out of the dorm room to find Kali. Sam sighed, before snarling down at his erection straining his jeans.

~Two hours later~

“out Samwitch.” Gabriel mumbled as he staggered into the room with Kali suckling on his neck from behind him. Sam didn't answer him. Looking over he blinked at the bare side of the room, before Kali captured his total attention.

*meanwhile*

“Come in, Alpha Winchester.” the gravelly voice called. Sam turned the door handle and sighed at the uninviting scent of the omega.

“Thank you for agreeing to this sudden dorm assignment, Omega Novak, it'll save me from myself.” The black-haired man cocked his head in confusion, making the chestnut-haired man to expound.

“My roommate didn't recognize that we're scent mated, and when I told him he said ‘Like I'd be scent mated to a male! I'm not fucking gay!’” the omega sucked in a breath, “then today he barges into the room demanding that I give him a hickey to help him get his ex-back with him. I-I gave him one only after he planted himself on my lap. Then he left, and I went to the RA about changing rooms.” Castiel opened his arms letting his friend burrow into the given comfort.

“It'll be okay, Sam. Stay here as long as you need.”

*the next day after 6 pm*

Knocking woke Gabriel up. The calls for Sam was however what got him out of bed and Kali’ s grasp. Opening the door, he came face to chest with an alpha, one who smelled like Sam in that family way.

“Can I help you, Alpha-?”

“Winchester, you piece of shit Omega. Now where's my baby brother?” Dean growled at the smaller man.

“How the fuck should I know, he was gone when me and Kali got back here.” Gabriel snarled back. Alpha Winchester snarled and picked him up so they were face to face.

“If I find out you did something to hurt him, no matter what he says, I'll repay the pain to you, your asshole.” he dropped the scared Omega as the female alpha finally got out of bed behind him. It took her a moment to take stock.

“Hey Winchester, give it up, he'll never want you, even if you are scent mated. And all because you've got the wrong gender!” Dean swore looking at the golden-haired Omega in a new light. Muttering to himself he left the dorm room to find the RA.

Castiel woke to the sound of a key unlocking his door. He looked towards the door from under the passed-out form, known as Samuel Winchester. The RA stepped into the room followed by the most beautiful alpha Cas had ever seen. Then the scent hit him. A perfect match to his own outdoors scent he struggled to get out from under the stirring Alpha in time. The unknown alpha had Sam against the wall in a few seconds, waking said alpha up completely. Sam whined out one word, “Dean” causing the alpha to drop him in horror.

“Sammy? What are you doing here?” he asked even as he placed himself between the other two and his Omega.

“Asked for a dorm change, and got roomed with a friend, Omega Novak who offered filial comfort from a rejected and burned bond.” they all gasped, knowing that he was on borrowed time now.

The RA helped Sam stand up, letting the Alpha lean his weight on him. “Sam I'll speak to the board about this for you and let your professors know as well. Do you have any other place to stay?”

“I can afford a motel room for the night thanks for telling the college.” Sam stated as he grabbed his bags from the floor, swaying under their weight. He gave Dean and Castiel a tired grin before shuffling out the door. The RA went after him shutting the door as he went, leaving the two newly acquainted mates alone.

***

Sam watched the traffic outside the motel window, wondering how much longer he would have before one instinct overrode the rest. He could feel the anger beginning to fester into fury. He knew he should call the police to come get him before it got too bad, he didn't want to. His Alpha side yearned to seek out his Omega, but his logical mind reminded it that he had been rejected already. No need to be rejected again, right? Picking up the phone his hand shook.

“911, what's your emergency?”

“I'm at Motel 12, room 40, and I need you to send an Alpha suppression unit for me, Names Samuel Lewis Winchester, my scent bonded rejected me and mated with another. I'm losing control, tell them to hurry please.” Sam said before he had to set the phone down or drop it he was shaking so badly.

****

The team burst into the room to find the Alpha gasping on the floor. His breathing too fast to allow any air into his lungs, and all other muscles seizing as he fought his instincts. Quickly restraining him in the Alpha grade cuff and shackles they rushed him to the hospital wing of the Alpha only prison. Once there the doctor knocked him out.

“Sir do you know where you are?” was the first thing Sam heard upon waking. Looking around he breathed a sigh of relief, before answering.

“The medical wing of a prison. I'm glad they got there in time, I almost lost it.” the nurse raised her eyebrow at the relief in the Alpha's voice.

“Is there anyone you'd like us to call?” she asked pen poised to write on the clipboard in her hands.

“My brother, Dean Winchester, XXX-XXXX. Although, what's the date?” Sam replied coughing in the middle of the sentence from his dry throat.

“Here drink this,” she handed him a small plastic cup filled with water, “It's the 20th, what does that have to do with your brother?” she said. Sam gulped down the water gratefully.

“He met his scent mate on the 16th, but they should be mated by now, the lucky bastard.” he groused staring up at the ceiling. Following the calming lines inked into the tiles with his eyes allowed him to speak of the situation that landed him there, strapped down to a bed with no one he knew around.

“I was excited to start my senior year of college, though not quite as excited to meet my new roommate. You see my previous roommate had found her scent mate during the summer so she was rooming with them. Imagine that you're sitting on your bed waiting for a new roommate, when as the door opens the most amazingly perfect scent wafts in. I was sitting when I saw my scent mate for the first time. Good thing too. Because the next thing I heard was him saying, ‘I can NOT be scent mated to a MALE! I'm not GAY!!’.” Sam took several deep breaths before continuing, noting that the nurse was angry for some reason. “It was ok living in the same dorm room with him until two weeks ago. He came barging into the room, startling me, demanding that I give him a hickey. I asked him ‘why me? Why not the other alpha you've been around?’ his response? She was the alpha he was trying to get to mate with him. Now by this point he's gotten on my lap and was baring his neck to me. I-I controlled myself and gave him what he had asked for, but not in the mating spot.” Sam blinked the tears building up in his eyes away, and cleared his throat.

“I went to the RA as soon as he left and requested a room change. Luckily for me there was an Omega, Omega Novak, willing to share his dorm room with me. I took my clothes and bedding first. Then I had to wait as Omega Surely and his chosen alpha where making use of the room.”

The nurse refilled his cup for him, and Sam gulped the small cup down. After draining the cup, a couple more times he continued speaking.

“Omega Novak was a good friend before I moved to his room, and almost like a brother when I returned with my books. He allowed me to take comfort in lying next to him that night. Apparently, we both needed comfort as neither of us woke till around 6 pm the next evening.” Sam chuckled a little. The nurse simply gestured to continue.

“Well I got woke up by my brother pinning me to the wall, surprise visit out the door when he scented his mate. I left them there after the RA said he would talk to the college for me. Then I made it to a motel, booked a room, and enjoyed a few minutes of freedom, before dialing 911. It goes black after that.” The nurse nodded her head, still writing like mad on the clipboard.

When she finally finished writing she looked up at the restrained alpha. She had no idea how he had done it, managing to keep one's base instincts under control when presented with the opportunity to tie their mate to them was almost unheard of.

“Well Sam, I can go call your brother to let him know where you are, then try to track down your mate to-” she said before being interrupted by the distraught scent coming from the alpha.

“He was going to taunt the other Alpha with MY scent, and mark, to get them to Mate him. Did you think of the torture would you inflict on me? By coming back here, with THEIR scents on you? Please just call my brother.” Sam said staring the alpha nurse in the eye, until she glanced away. He only relaxed when she left the room.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

“Sammy?” Dean asked watching his still (too still!) brother. Hazel eyes cracked open. Blinking the prone Alpha looked to the sound of breathing. Faint recognizing crossed his eyes before he inhaled.

“De?” he croaked, causing his brother to quick smile before sighing.

“Sam. Apparently Gabriel, no let me finish,” he started before placing his hand lightly on Sam's mouth to shut him up. “He never learned proper Sex Ed. He was sick the day they covered Mates and Pregnancy rates. His teacher hated him because of the pranks he had pulled on him so he never got make up work for it.” He chuckled at the bewildered expression on his face. Sam pulled his brother's hand away from his face to speak.

“Where is he?”

“They’ve got the college counselor talking to him, along with a nurse from here. I think he was at the college's Counseling center.”

“What’s my status here anyway, the nurse never told me.” Sam asked as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Dean watched him as he grabbed the clipboard on the end of the bed.

“Says here, you’re a self-turned in almost out of control, which means if you’re under your own control you can leave whenever.”

“Good. Let's go then. I’ve got a Mate to meet again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“An Omega can't get Pups with just any Male. Only the Omega’s Scent Mate can give them Pups.” the blonde-haired beta said, pointing at the slide on the wall. Gabriel watched her, eyelids drooping before snapping open. He raised his hand, dropping it when she nodded.

“So, I can Mate whoever I want, just won't be able to bear any Pups, unless it's Sam?” he asked. His expression fell when she hesitated.

“You CAN Mate whoever you want but unless you somehow were Scent Mated to another Omega in addition to your Alpha, you would never have Pups. It ties into the next slide,” she clicked her pointer, “Omegas cannot sire Pups except with another Omega.” His face was curiously blank after she said that. Even his scent which had been between full panic and outrage was blank, telling her nothing. A knock on the door had her leaving the front of the room to answer it.

“Yes? Oh, you’re Sam, aren’t you?” She asked the tall man at the door. He nodded. Sighing she waved him into the room. Sam walked into the room, focused on the stiff Omega near the front. He stopped at the loveseat the room had and sat down, wiggling a little to cover the neutralizer on the fabric with his own scent. The counselor huffed at the Alpha’s marking as she walked past him back to the front of the room.

“Scent Mates are vital to keeping the population up. Not only that but most times Scent Mates are well matched in their lives.” She said continuing as though the Alpha wasn’t in the room. “It’s been said that an Alpha whose scent mate rejects them, usually by taking another Alpha as their mate, will after killing the Omega and their chosen mate, dies.” Gabriel stared shocked at the counselor, then remembering that Sam was in the room, spun to stare at him, mouth agape.

“Then why am I not dead?” he asked, confusion radiating from him. Sam blinked, looking down to the side as he answered.

“Because it’s gotten easier to resist the instincts since you did everything in your power to reject me the first time we met. If you remember, I hadn’t even gotten to know your name when you yelled: ‘I CAN’T be SCENT MATED to a MALE! I’m not GAY!!’ after I whispered: ‘You’re my mate?’” Sam scoffed looking back up at Gabriel, eyes Alpha Black. “That face I made? Wasn’t me angry at you. No, I was hurt, like you had killed my brother in front of me. Then I wanted to kill you.” He was standing in front of Gabriel, a snarl on his face, when his eyes cleared and he blinked stepping back. Laughing he leaned down so his face was level with Gabriel’s. “When you came back to the room that day and demanded a mark, from me, to force another Alpha’s hand about ‘winning’ your body. Why do you think I was so uncomfortable with you on my fucking lap?” Sam asked, voice bordering on full Alpha tone.

“What?” Gabe asked bewildered, horror on his face. “That's what I did? I didn’t realize, I didn’t know!” he exclaimed looking Sam dead in the eye, a ring of Omega gold around his pupils showing he was telling the truth. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm down.

“I’m sorry Sam, no, Alpha, I-I didn’t realize exactly what I was asking of you.” Gabe said just loudly enough that the forgotten beta counselor could hear. “And I’m sorry but I need a few days to get this to sink in, that you are my Alpha,” he paused drawing a long breath in, full of Sam’s scent, “and that I shouldn’t have tried to bury the attraction I feel towards you with someone else.”

The surprise that showed on Sam’s face and in his scent caused a low whine to emit from Gabriel’s throat. His eyes widened at his own action as Sam stepped closer. The whine petered off once Sam placed his hand on Gabriel’s hand. He caressed the omega’s hand as he took several deep breaths, calming down from the exciting convestion.

“I don’t know if I can give you the time you need, Gabriel.” At both Gabriel’s and the counselor’s confused expressions Sam explained. “All right that came out wrong,” he used his free hand to rub the back of his neck, “I meant that my instincts are telling me to Claim you NOW, to not let you out of my sight until I can do so, that type of thing. I’m not sure how much time you want, but my instincts aren’t going to give you a lot of time.” The Counselor frowned her scent turning inquisitive.

“Sam, how many days have you been ignoring your instincts so far?” she asked startling the pair.

“around 200 why?” Sam asked watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“2-200?! That’s unheard of! What the hell have you been doing?”

#sabrielweek2019 #sam winchester #gabriel #truemates #Abo #a/b/o #a/b/o verse

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archangelgabriellives · 6 years

Text

Inked

Here is my submission for the August prompts for @gabriel-monthly-challenge!

@archangelsanonymous @archangel-with-a-shotgun @archangelgabriellives @warlockwriter @ttttrickster @revwinchester

The prompts I used were

Statement Prompt:

He blinked at the scene before him, surprised but vaguely aware that this was far from the strangest thing to have happened to him today.

Dialogue Prompt:

“I’m sorry, you’ve got what in the bag?”

Trope/AU Prompt:

Tattooed AU

Tags: none, Implied Sabriel

Word count: 1340

When Sam Winchester heard a hushed laughter echoing in the halls of the Bunker, he knew it wasn't going to be good. With Gabriel and Castiel now permanent residents along side the hunters, anything can and does happen.

Sam took a moment to look up from his book, straining his ears from his chair in the library to listen for anything out of the ordinary. But he heard nothing, and returned to his book with an contemplative hum.

When he heard it again a few minutes later, he just couldn't leave it alone. The last time he didn't check up on his suspicions involving the angels, Gabriel had turned the war room into a jumble of playground tubes and painted all the bedrooms obnoxiously bright colors.

With an annoyed sigh, Sam marked his place in his book and headed down the hall from the library following the sound. He walked carefully, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Who knows, a parade of stuffed animals could come out of one of the bedroom doors.

Again.

As Sam followed the sounds, he could hear whispered words weaved in with the giggling.

“Here, Cassie. Put one here.”

“We are running out of room, Gabriel.”

Sam continued down the hall, and heard more hushed chuckling coming from Dean’s man cave.

“There’s always more space below the belt, little bro.”

The statement caused Sam to pause in the hall. What the hell? he thought.

Sam rounded the doorway to walk into the room, words stuck in his throat as he blinked at the scene before him, surprised but vaguely aware that this was far from the strangest thing that will probably happen to him today.

Gabriel and Castiel were both hunched over a sleeping Dean, the hunters feet and exposed legs the only bit of him Sam could see around the angels, his feet propped up on his reclined Laz-Y-Boy. There were little scraps of paper scattered all over the floor, and as Sam stepped closer, he could see a brown paper bag clutched in Gabriel’s arms.

“What are you guys doing?” The sudden question caused both angels to stand up straight, twin looks of guilt and surprise plastered on both their faces. Sam took a step forward, more questions on his tongue, but before he can get another word out, there is a sound of flapping wings, and Castiel was gone.

“Castiel, you coward,” Gabriel called out to the empty room.

“Gabriel, what are you doing?” Sam repeated the question to the now lone angel in the room.

“Having fun, Sam-a-lam.” Gabriel was all bright smiles and bravado, any shock of being caught in the act of mischief melted away. “Care to join me now that you frightened away my partner in crime?”

“Fun?” Sam asked incredulously, “What are you doing to Dean?”

Gabriel’s only answer was to shake his paper bag at Sam, tempting him to reach his hand in and find out. Yeah, like Sam was that stupid.

“What's in the there?” Sam asked cautiously, nodding his head towards the bag.

“I'm tagging your brother,” Gabriel laughed. “Well, we were until I lost my accomplice. Thanks, by the way.”

Sam blinked, confused by another of the tricksters games.

“I'm sorry, you've got what in the bag?”

“Tattoos,” Gabriel answered simply.

When Sam just stared at him, Gabriel tipped the bag over, spilling its contents into Dean's lap. His smirk never faltered as wave after wave of temporary tattoos fell out of the bag, way more than should have logically fit in that small bag in the first place. When the flow finally stopped, Dean was practically buried under all the paper, incredibly still asleep.

It only took a moment for Sam’s stunned silence to dissolve into unbridled laughter, only to cut himself off quickly with his hand slapped over his mouth when Dean shifted under the mountain of paper scraps and snorted in his sleep. “Oh hell, Gabriel,” Sam said as he tried to keep his laughter under control, taking a few long strides to peek around the recliner at his brother. Not much of Dean was exposed, just the top half of his head and his hands and feet sticking out of the paper pile. “What did you do? And how is he still asleep?”

“He had three beers at lunch. That would make anyone sleepy.”

“Really Gabriel?” Sam asked, tilting his head at the archangel, no real anger there.

“Oh, yeah. I might have…” Gabriel tapped his temple, his smirk on full display, “just a little.”

Sam couldn't hold back his smile. “Dean’s gonna be pissed that you whammied him into a coma without him knowing.”

“Oh, you don't know the half of it, kiddo.”

With a snap of his fingers, the tattoo papers were placed back in the paper bag. Sam was surprised to find a bag had appeared in his hands, as well as Gabriel’s. He glanced down at the light wieght that settled in his arms, then back up to Gabriel, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Care to help me finish the job?” Gabriel asked with a mischievous waggle of his brows. When Sam only furrowed his own, Gabriel tipped his gaze towards Dean, asleep in the chair. And what Sam saw there when his eyes followed had him doubling over and howling with laughter.

Dean was nearly completely covered in, what Sam could only assume, Gabriel’s custom made temporary tattoos. Hamburgers with wings and halos, hands clinking beer bottles together, monster illustrations from their father’s hunting journal, sigils and enochian phrases Sam didn't understand, angel blades through hearts, and so many other designs.

“Castiel was right, Gabriel,” Sam said through his laughter as he examined his brothers body, clad in only a loose t-shirt and boxers, “you are almost out of room.” Dean’s arms were just about filled, and his legs were a colorful canvas almost down to his knees.

“Well, I could flip him over and you can put your name on his ass,” Gabriel said as he dug through his bag to find a particular tattoo and slapping it on Dean’s leg.

Sam scoffed. “My name?” he asked as he reached into his own bag. “I don't think so.” Sam pulled out the first paper he grabbed, finding a tattoo that said Castiel in a beautiful script.

“Ooh, looks like fate,” Gabriel exclaimed as he met Sam’s bitchface with his own innocent smile, throwing the used paper backing to the floor.

Sam and Gabriel continued to fill up Dean’s skin with all sorts of tattoos, until Gabriel suddenly was shoving Sam out of the room. They watched, peeking around the doorframe as Dean slowly woke up, rubbing the sleep from his face. For a second, Sam thought for sure Dean wasn't going to even notice all the new artwork on his body as he continued to stretch and mumble something about food.

But as Dean propped himself to push up from the recliner, he paused.

“Here it comes, sasquatch,” Gabriel quietly crowed, shaking Sam’s arms excitedly.

Dean drew his legs up, when he reached out a hand to touch the new ink on his thigh, then gasped at the tattoos that filled up both his arms. “Son of a bitch.” He lifted his shirt, finding his chest and stomach also filled. “Gabriel!” he yelled as he launched himself up and stormed towards the hallway. But Sam and Gabriel were already racing to get away, their laughter echoing down the halls.

Later, when Sam was getting ready for bed, absently brushing his teeth, he noticed something on his neck, covered mostly by his shirt. He leaned in closer to the mirror, and pulled his shirt down a bit to get a look at was on his skin.

There, next to his anti-possession tattoo, was a bright red kiss mark, the words Property of Gabriel flowing around them. He should have been mad, but all Sam could do was laugh and wonder when Gabriel had given him his own temporary tattoo.

It was temporary, wasn’t it?

Everything tags

@doctor-zyre @ourloveisforthelovely @authoressskr @superwhoavengelocketc-blog @sumara62 @mscrazycatbitch @emmii4 @redberrysweets @space-time-paradox @tgpanther @anxietywontmakethewordsgo @I4life @l4life @acarpouschimerical @warlockwriter

#gabriel monthly challenge #tattoo au #gabriel in the bunker #implied sabriel #oof you guys #i tried to write crack when i was at a low point #so this is not what it should be #and im sorry for that #this was a good idea in my head #but i dont think it came out right #just try not to judge me too harshy #i already did

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thallencambricaltran · 6 years

Text

The Golden Hour

September Gabriel Prompts

Title: The Golden Hour

Pairing: Sam/Gabriel

Rating: Teen

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Warnings/Tags:

Words: 2039

Prompts Used:

-Statement: The rain fell around him, the water cold but gentle in its cascade down his face, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across

-Dialogue: “Are you going to come in, or just be creepy in my doorway?”

Sneak peek: It was raining in soft droves, winter cold rain mixed with still warm summer air and whirled together by a fall breeze. The sun was just approaching the horizon, sinking down to be embraced by the rolling plains of Kansas and seeming to seep the world below it with the colors of old stained glass. The gold and silver lined bellies and rain filled clouds arched through the sky, casting shadows and blocks of light across the ground in a mosaic of earthy hues.

Gabriel, the trickster and the messenger, flew to his usual landing place just outside the bunker.

Authors Note: The first 3 pages wrote themselves, the last few took me until now to finish. This is for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge, and you can find that here! (http://gabriel-monthly-challenge.tumblr.com/) This is just a simple, cute bit of Sabriel fluff and snuggles because we all need more of that good stuff. Shout out to my lovely beta, @cloversage61, for fixing my spelling and grammar errors (and reminding me to finish writing this.)

@gabriel-monthly-challenge @archangelgabriellives @archangelsanonymous@revwinchester @ttttrickster @archangel-with-a-shotgun @warlockwriterr

The Golden Hour

It was raining in soft droves, winter cold rain mixed with still warm summer air and whirled together by a fall breeze. The sun was just approaching the horizon, sinking down to be embraced by the rolling plains of Kansas and seeming to seep the world below it with the colors of old stained glass. The gold and silver lined bellies and rain filled clouds arched through the sky, casting shadows and blocks of light across the ground in a mosaic of earthy hues.

Gabriel, the trickster and the messenger, flew to his usual landing place just outside the bunker. It was much simpler to teleport out here and simply walk inside than have to wrangle with the warding surrounding the building, even for him. It was a simple huddle of trees, providing some shielding from the view of unwanted eyes, but almost none from the weather.

The rain fell around him, the water cold but gentle in it’s cascade down his face, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across. By the sun, he loved this weather. It was just perfect for roasting marshmallows, sipping thick mugs of cocoa piled with freshly whipped cream, munching on caramel apples, and...

With a twitch, Gabriel shook himself out of his daydreams, he’d have enough time for that later, but right now, he had an appointment to keep. He popped a lolly into existence and stuffed it into his mouth, candy apple flavored of course, no need to suffer needlessly, and began his trudge up to one of the lesser used of the bunker doors. Sam had altered the bunkers warding enough to let him, but Gabriel himself preferred to use one of the entrances in which he was less likely to run into, you guessed it, Dean. The man still held the tiniest of grudges against him, although he couldn’t imagine why. (Definitely not for killing him multiple times, faking his own death twice and tormenting his brother on occasion.) He himself quite liked Dean, even if he was emotionally stunted, caffeine addicted, and a bit trigger-happy, he was also very entertaining. By this point, Gabe had reached the bunker’s door and shifted inside, his eyes adjusting instantly to the dimmer lighting inside. Shifting his lollipop back into a pocket dimension for later, he quietly closed the door behind him and gave prerequisite glance around him for any others. He knew of course already that none was around, his angelic senses told him the locations of all 3 of the people currently residing in the bunker. And if two of those figures were currently a little closer together than they strictly needed to be, he wasn't going to say anything about it. Still, he kept quiet as he made his way to his predetermined destination. It wasn’t as if he really needed to be quiet, it was more out of principle, and like, tradition. If he was going to be creeping around, he was going to be doing it well, dammit. Even if he didn’t have anyone to hide from aside from Dean, who hardly counted. By the same way he knew the locations of the others in the bunker, Cas also could sense other living beings. His grace, as an archangel was considerably larger than a mere seraphs, especially since he wasn’t currently masking his presence.

He knows that his brother is aware of his presence in the bunker, now and every time in the past that he has come. And his brother knows that he knows. And he knows that his brother knows he knows. And that was a lot less complicated than it sounded.

Anyways. He followed the now familiar pathway to a now familiar room, footsteps softening instinctively as the sound of soft breathing fell upon his ears. The whispering of a delicate page being turned, the deep thud of a heart beating in a broad chest, red blood rushing through veins and the impossibly gentle sound of lashes brushing against silken cheeks in a soft blink. Gabriel smiled gently as he listened to the sounds that were Sam, that were just as a part of him as the deep timber of his voice, his long legs and powerful thighs, the waves to his hair, the stubble that crept up on his cheeks when he hadn’t shaven in a few days. In Gabriel's opinion, everything about that stupid moose-man was perfect.

Gabriel lingered in Sam’s bedroom doorway. The positively picturesque moment brought him to pause and gaze upon the scene before him. The old lamps of the bunker, (and Dad, in this moment he sure loved those lamps a lot) the light filtered through in strong amber hues, washing the room in yellows and high contrasts, much as the sinking sun had outside. The golden light of the lamps hit the caramel highlights in Sam’s hair perfectly. Sinking into each wave upon his scalp and clinging to each tendril that fell to caress his face and shoulders. The rays brushed across his face, highlighting cheekbones, and emphasising the cut of his jaw and the shape of his throat. Finally, wonderfully, impeccably, the light touched his mouth in the gentlest of kisses, (as Gabriel wished to be doing now) and gently, so gently, outlined the perfect curve of his lower lip.

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to be creepy in my doorway?” Gabriel glanced up from Sam’s lips to meet his smiling gaze, and answered in a smile of his own.

“I’d love to come in if I was so invited.” Gabriel teased, still not crossing the doorway, but playfully wiggling fingers in Sam’s direction.

“You’re always invited, you dork, now get over here.” Sam grinned boldy at the archangel and gestured to the spot on the bed next to him, having already marked his place in his book and set it aside.

Gleefully, Gabriel scampered over to Sam and jumped up next to him on the bed, planting a kiss on his lips as he did so and wrapping his arms around the taller man’s shoulders. His hair is pulled back into a loose bun, (which, in Gabriel’s opinion, was completely hot) and for once he’s not wearing one of his usual flannels and is simply in a plain green t shirt. Pausing his kiss to admire the man before him, he admires the almost scandalous lack of clothing( a single t-shirt and jeans for this man was basically naked), and the way the green hue of his shirt brought out the green in his hazel eyes and highlighted their warmth.

“See something you like?” Sam said teasingly. As Gabriel belatedly realized that he’d been staring soppily at Sam for a number of minutes now. Snapping back into the present, Gabriel wrapped both arms around Sam’s waist to pull him into a tight hug.

“Always, Sam-a-lam.” He said with his best wink and a smirk, pulling a soft laugh from the other man. Gabriel bounced back to better be able to look up at his giant moose.

“So Sammy! What movie are we gonna be watching tonight?” Gabriel asked, clasping his hands together and beaming up at him. In all honesty, he’d seen a number of the movies Sam had shown him before, but, seeing it with Sam at his side gave him new eyes and new appreciation for each one. Although sometimes he thought he enjoyed watching Sam watching the movie more than he actually enjoyed watching the films.

“And we get candy this time!” Gabriel reminded the taller man, who simply rolled his eyes at his antics.

“Yes, but, please go easy on the stuff, for my sake Gabe.” Sam huffed playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s like, carrots and raisins and stuff for ya.” Gabe said, knocking his should with Sam’s. Or least tried to, it was more like knocking his shoulder with Sam’s hip, but like, whatever.

“Besides,” Gabriel reminded him, “You get to pick the movie!”

Sam just snorted at that. “I pick the movie every time, weirdo, you hardly know any of their names.”

“That’s because I watch TV shows, not movies, Sam, they’re longer!”

“In shorter chunks over a longer period of time, but yeah, I guess they can be longer.” Sam conceded.

Satisfied that he’d won his end of the argument, Gabriel flopped himself down across Sam’s bed, where they usually chilled while watching movies on a TV Gabriel had summoned a few weeks, (or was it months now?) ago. He’d thought the one in Sam’s room was too small, so of course he’d had to make it bigger.

“So what movie are we watching, anyway?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s this really great film,” Sam gushed, “It never really hit a big audience, but man, does it make you think-…” Gabriel let Sam’s voice trail off in his mind as the hunter stretched to curl around him. Dad, he loved this dork.

“Hey Sam.”

“Yeah, Gabriel?”

“Doesn’t one of us actually need to be standing, to like, put the movie in?” He asked.

Groaning, Sam pulled himself back up to insert the disk, and snagging the remote on his way back to Gabriel, who welcomed him back to the bed with open arms.

“Hello, Sam.” He whispered.

“Hi, Gabe,” Sam chuckled, pulling the smaller man in for a soft kiss.

Turning from Sam, Gabriel snapped his fingers, starting the movie without a need for the remote, and skipping straight to the previews.

“They’re one of the best parts, Sam.” Gabriel insisted as he sensed rather than heard or felt, Sam’s intake of breath.

“But the previews are so old!”

“I don’t care Sam! They’re fun to watch, like little mini movies with cliffhanger endings!”

Sam just tugged his angel closer, and huffed a light laugh into his neck.

- - - - -

Gabriel gently ran his fingers through Sam’s hair in just the way he knew the taller man liked. Gently tugging at the scalp before his fingers continued on to slip through the lengthy strands like silk. Even with Sam’s half asleep as he was, Gabriel could feel the contentment rumble through him, a deep mix between a purr and a growl.

Gabriel sighed softly. He had a large hunter curled up halfway in his lap, (or at least as much of the hunter as he could fit in his lap), and he had a movie that he knew was good (he hadn’t told Sam, but this was one he’d watched already), and his belly was blissfully full of sweets and popcorn. He wasn’t sure he could ever be happier. If he had ever been happier, he was hard pressed to remember it. At least at this moment, while sugar and the musk of Sam’s familiar scent addled his brain. Fingers moving in a common pattern, Gabriel selected delicate bunches of hair from Sam’s head, and in the ancient patterns he had learned as Loki, among the Celts and Vikings of old, began an intricate braiding, one that would fit his beautiful moose warrior, and his hair was just so perfect for braiding...

Sam woke up the next morning cocooned around Gabriel. He could feel a certain tension along his scalp that let him know Gabriel had braided his hair. Again. He really only pretended to be mad for appearances at this point, and Gabriel knew it was all a ruse. Sam shifted gently to work his phone out of his back pocket without waking the sleeping archangel, before snapping a quick selfie of the two of them, for memories sake. Gabriel’s long amber lashes fluttered on his cheeks, and Sam idly wondered if he was dreaming before gently planting a kiss on the sleeping man’s hair. He dropped his phone on the side table, he didn’t need it anymore, and moved to loop an arm back around his angel. He didn’t need to go on his morning run, not quite yet.

#sabriel #sambriel #supernatural #fluff

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