A DRABBLE IN THE UTMOST. Not really a plotline, just a silly idea I had one day. Hope you like Supernatural! A little bit of Sabriel shenanigans for my lovely readers. I don't ship this all too seriously, but I find it kind of cute. It's a good ship.


"Ahhhh," Gabriel sighed, the motel couch letting out an exasperated creak as he plopped onto it, " A long day of scaring the pants off muttonheads like you can wear a guy out, Sammich." He finished bragging with a smirk. Sam let out a bothered sigh, feeling Gabe's eyes boring a hole through him. "I thought I told you not to call me that." The angel rolled off the couch, landing at Sam's feet and looking up ever so pitifully. "And why's that?" Sam couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the sight of Gabriel attempting his puppy eye technique looked, but he managed a snide "Not enough room in that angelic head of hot air for English? The word is sandwich. Not to mention that humans are a lot different than sandwiches." Gabriel feigned innocence with a raised eyebrow and a few confused blinks. Scoffing back at him, the youngest Winchester muttered "Oh, no. Don't you go all Hannibal Lecter on me. That's it, no more Sammich. Find a new obnoxious nickname." Sam turned back to his laptop as he heard a sudden snap. A long roll of paper with detailed calligraphy appeared, rolling out over his screen and into his lap, and the angel before him sang "Been there, done that, Samsquatch. But I'm afraid Sammich is just one of my favorites, I'm not letting it go that easy. Besides," he said as he rolled up his list, "what's your deal with it, anyways?" Finally getting up, revealing his gargantuan stature, the hunter rolled his eyes and looked down condescendingly at Gabriel. "Mostly because it's not a real word, you know, other than assholes demanding 'sammiches' from their girlfr-" "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Kiddo." His words were casual enough, but he had that intense, scheming, entirely Trickster grin on his face. "Oh no, no whatever you're gonna do, no." Gabriel held up his fingers as the room echoed his sharp snap. Sam half expected to be in a parallel universe (was it Tuesday? No, no, good.), but instead he found himself still in front of a happy little angel who's mere plea was "Why don't you go check the dictionary?" As his satisfied cackle ricocheted off the walls, Sam's eyes widened. "You-", he fumbled over to the bookshelf with grabby hands, "You didn't..." and sure enough, as he flipped to the S's, the word "sandwich" was nowhere to be found. There was, however, a pristinely printed "sammich" on the page, with... 2 definitions? One was the typical definition for the food item formerly known as sandwich, and the other? A rather unflattering picture of Sam Winchester himself.

"...you little shit."