Title: Premium Entertainment
Pairing: Dean/Gabriel
Rating: T or R for mention of man-parts and the occasional swear word. (Because I have actually no clue about ratings)
Warning: Nothing you haven't done before, I'm sure.
Word count: 2602
Author's note: For the record, I haven't actually seen Hammer of the Gods and I probably fudged the time line, but I wasn't going for accurate so if you've got a complaint, suck it, because I've actually finished a fic for once and am too happy to give a damn.

This has not been beta'd

The first time he finds a DVD is just after they ganked the Trickster.

They had just cleared out their motel room and while Sam was saying his goodbye to Bobby, Dean decided to check his baby over one last time, making sure she was in top condition.
It was sitting on the dashboard, looking all innocent and totally out of place.
He picked it up, about to complain to Sam about him leaving his junk all over the place when the title caught his eye.
And yeah, so he didn't know his brother liked busty blonde babysitters.
He kind of hoped it wasn't Sammy's favourite DVD, as he slipped it into his jacket.

Dean didn't watch until a week later, when Sam was out terrorizing a library for information on some Satanic ritual.
He pressed play and leaned back against the headboard, grinning as he saw a scantily clad brunette opening the door to an even more under-dressed blonde. Two minutes in and his eyebrows are in his hair line.
Dean had no clue Sam was into girl-on-girl action and there was no way he was giving this back.
And when the doorbell rings and he's expecting another woman ('Please be a red-head.'), it opens to reveal.
"What the Hell?" He leans forward, eyes narrowed on the TV while the Trickster seemingly smirks at him through the screen, before joining the two ladies on the couch.
Dean turns it off, his heart pounding heavily in his chest and buries the DVD at the bottom of his bag, not quite sure why he didn't just through it out.

He watches it two days later, from end to finish. And fuck, but he shouldn't be this turned on, not when his eyes were constantly fixed on the Trickster. Because, you know, he just wanted to make sure it was actually him. Yeah.
And if he's more than a little irratable when his brother comes back, Sam doesn't say anything.

Dean's almost forgotten about it, but not really because the DVD is still in his bag, not that he's watched it since.
They're in some small town in Florida, checking out something called a Mystery Spot when Sam starts going crazy. Or maybe Dean did, he's not sure.
But when his baby brother is mimicking him perfectly, like mind-reading his every word, he feels a cold chill run up his spine.
Only, it turns out to all be some trick, that has him dying every single day, which is so not cool and that stupid Trickster is still alive.
And when Sam has him by the throat with a knife, Dean's kind of glad he doesn't have to do anything, because the guy just shot him a glance, all smirks and I-know-that-you-watched-it and he can't breathe for a second or two.

The next day, after they've left town and Sam is more than a little quiet, Dean's filling the tank of his baby in some dingy gas station.
He puts the gas hose back and when he turns back round, there on top the roof of the Impala is a DVD case.
Dean looks around wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bastard but knowing it's useless. He shoves the DVD in his jacket, burying it in his bag later. He doesn't watch it.

Almost a month later Dean lays down on his motel bed, having felt this clean in two days.
He'd been trudging through sewers, looking for bones, while Sam was up top fighting a ghost intent on killing a family of five off.
His brother was kind enough to give him the shower first and went off to get some pie. Fresh pie, Dean had demanded.
He's staring at the ceiling, scratching his stomach lazily as he considers hitting the bar later, because he really needs to get laid. And his hand is now going lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Suddenly, getting off right now seems like the best idea ever and before he realizes it, he's rummaging through the DVDs in his bag. Because there are now six of them, each one mysteriously popping up and no, he's never watched them. Not after the first one.
But it's like it's the only option now, like the TV has no porn on demand, which it might, but Dean's not looking, busy sliding the DVD in.
He wants to see him. That stupid smug grin and those stupid and not at all amazing eyes.

Dean's too sated to hit the bar afterwards.

He thinks he's starting to see a pattern. Every time they have a job and Dean gets a little close to a woman, there's a DVD in or on his car. And if he doesn't watch it the first chance he gets, another one appears when he has only seconds to hide it before Sammy sees.
Dean knows the Trickster is watching him now, knows he should be worried, or freaked a little by it. That maybe he should tell Sam.
Expect he doesn't, except he finds it a kind of hot, wondering if the Trickster is watching while Dean strokes himself to climax as the man on the screen smiles right at him.

His favourite one is when it's just the Trickster and a brunette. She spends a good ten minutes of it on her knees between his legs and Dean gets an eyeful of the man's body slick with sweat and his face looking blissed and debauched.
And he's looking right at the camera, right at Dean. And if he turns of the volume, he can imagines it's his name on the Trickster's lips when he comes and that in itself triggers Dean's own orgasm. And it's always so fucking good.

So when he loses it, he kind of freaks out, tearing through his bag like a mad man. He even goes through Sam's.
And when his brother comes back, asking why their things are all over the room, Dean tells him he lost something important. And when Sam asks if he found it, he is so not holding back tears when he shakes his head, because it's stupid. It's just a damn DVD.

The next one arrives a week later, but Dean just glares at it. He feels like he's somehow betrayed this thing they have going by having lost one.
Two days later, he's kind of glad he hadn't watched it, as Sam rams a wooden stake through the Trickster.
He lingers as he stares at the dead body on the warehouse floor, a painful pang in his chest making him bite his lip as he finally turns away.
It's better this way, he tells himself.

Only it hadn't ended and they were soon running through another show.
He didn't want to admit it, not when it was starting to get really annoying, but it was kind of neat playing, around in some of these shows.
He´s also kind of worried about his idea, as he pulls holy oil out from Sam´s eh.. trunk.
What if this guy was an angel? What the hell was all those DVDs supposed to mean? Had it just been some trick to lure him to Heaven's side? And why wasn't he pissed about that idea?
His gut churned angrily and before Dean could even contemplate thinking about his feelings, and wouldn't that be the day, their guest star answered his call.

Surrounded by a ring of fire Gabriel, Dean doesn't want to think about how nice it is to have a name to go with the face, is telling them it's their destiny, that they have no choice but to say yes.
And while he's kind of glad that there's no mention of the DVDs, no significant glances his way, he can't help but shudder at the thought of being Michael's parallel on Earth, that him and Sam will have to kill each other. No way and not gonna happen. He won't let it.
As they go to leave, Dean knows he can't leave him there trapped. He punches the sprinklers on, tries to ignore the way his stomach flips as Gabriel's eyes hold a hint of hope.

He doesn't get anything for another two months and when he does it's a note that says to 'watch it'. Dean doesn't need clarification on what it means, but he pretends to be dumb and asks Sam if he wrote it.

After Ellen and Jo die, there's less talking and more hunting. Dean is so tight wound that Sam eventually snaps at him and leaves to get his own room, the slamming of the door ringing in his ears some five minutes later still.
And then it's quiet, no sound other than his breathing and he can't stand it, knows the sound of Hellhounds are just in his head but can't help needing to block it out with something, anything.
The DVD is sitting on top of his clothes, definetly not where he left it, but he doesn't care, barely mumbles about stupid angels and slips it in.

He sits at the edge of his bed and watches. Watches Gabriel fuck a girl with such short, dirty blonde hair, that the meaning isn't lost on him. Nor when he looks right at him, eyes nothing but black pupils and lust filled amber.
Dean closes his eyes, digging his fingernails into his leg so painfully hard, afraid he might just come in his pants otherwise.

He flicks the button of his jeans open, unzips and shimmies it down his hips far enough that he can pull his cock out and God, when he opens his eyes, Gabriel is licking his lips.
He runs his thumb over the head, shudders as Gabriel moans, sounding so dirty and wanton.
Dean fists himself, grip tight and near painful, but it feels so good, even more when he takes a fast pace, keeping up with Gabriel's thrust.
"Dean." And now he's moaning, because Gabriel did not just say his name, no fucking way.
Expect he did, still is, with his head bent down, eyes screwed shut as he slams helplessly into the girl. His name's a soft mantra and the heat boil up quicker than Dean's ever felt it.
"I'd make it so good. Fuck you senseless, make you ache for days." Gabriel whimpers and Dean moans, because yeah, that sounds good, sounds so good.

His own eyes shut, as he imagines it's Gabriel's hand stroking him with intent, that the smooth, wanting voice is whispering those words in his ear, promising him.
"You'd love it. Being pounded into the mattress, screaming as I take you." The words go right to his dick, Dean's chest is rising and sinking rapidly as the sensations take over, the orgasm slamming into him, exploding throughout his entire body as Gabriel's name is pulled from his lungs.
His toes curl and his world blurs as he falls back and for a minute, he can imagine the softness of the bed is Gabriel's chest and the warm, comforting feeling that's wrapping around him is his arms.
Or maybe his wings, Dean thinks as clarity is starting to return and the edge of his mind catches a soft fluttering sound.

Dean didn't get anymore DVDs after that, or notes for that matter.
He's okay with that though, because Sam found the DVDs and raised an eyebrow at him. Dean was never more thankful that Gabriel had managed to not include himself on the front cover.

He ends up watching them at least once a week, not so much to help relive stress, but because each and every time, he's sure Gabriel is actually there. Watching and biting his lip as he restrains himself from touching. Or that's what Dean likes to think, anyway.
So he always put on a show, sometimes stripping completely and always spreading his legs so there'd be a good view.
In his mind, the next time they meet, he'll push Gabriel up against a wall and kiss the breathe out of him. Find a room and make the archangel come true on his words.

Except, when he does meet Gabriel next, it was more than a little unexpected and the situation is far from ideal.

Oh, and Lucifer is in the building.
And then Gabriel is herding them out the door, out to safety while he stays behind.
And Dean can tell he's trying his best not to look at him, but he can't help not trying to get the archangel's eyes, trying to see if he's really serious, really about to take on his own brother, a being that even the Colt can't kill. But the door closes and there's a pit in Dean's stomach that feels cold and unendingly deep.

Dean's trying not to crying, putting on the Winchester's famous devil-could-care-less face.
But it's his Gabriel, his Trickster on that screen and it feels so familiar and so heartbreaking, because he knows this will be the last one he'll ever get and it's not his alone.
And then Gabriel looks away, he's finished talking. Except he looks back and has the smallest, most genuine smile Dean's ever seen and he says "I'm sorry."
Sam looks puzzled, mentioning that he probably thinks the archangel meant for not being able to do more, to have succeeded.
But Dean knows the truth, knows that was his and only his.
That it was an apology for leaving, for dying without ever having made the promise come true. For making Dean fall in love with him.

When they check into the next motel, Dean sneaks out in the middle of the night.
He winds up in a deserted park, finding a secluded area and upturning the bag he brought with him. DVDs, his lighter and gasoline falls out.
It's only a matter of time before there's a fire burning, dead twigs quickly turning to ash as he watches and slowly, one by one tosses a DVD into the flames.
It's not a goodbye, it's not him letting Gabriel go, because Winchester's never do that. Can't.
It's his own promise, he thinks, fingers running over the remaining one, the last one Gabriel sent for him alone.
He tucks it into his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks at the fire without seeing it, he won't think or look at the DVD, at Gabriel. Not till he's been avenged, till this whole Apocalypse has been averted, till the world resembles it's usual brand of crazy.
And maybe, maybe he'll pray. Demand, 'cause he's sure as Hell not gonna ask God anything, not after all they've been through because of Him, that He fixes Sam up properly, that He don't punish Cas for having a mind and Will of his own, that he brings Gabriel back.
Maybe, he thinks but not believing because he's not that hopeful, never has been. Not really.