I Talk to God, but the Sky is Empty
~fluid-time
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was originally written with an MA rating for sexual content, but has been edited to meet FanFiction's TOS. If you want to read the full, unedited version, it is posted at Ao3 under the username: fluidtime.
It's just one of those days where Sam has trouble concentrating. The words in whatever large textbook he has blur together and swim in his vision, making it difficult to retain any information he reads. He sighs knowing that he's just not going to get much done today and that he'll probably have to re-skim some of his research tomorrow to make sure he hasn't missed anything.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at Cass who was sitting kitty-corner to him, sharing the large oak table in the Men of Letters library. The angel was silent, slowly chewing a bite of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had prepared for dinner. He seemed to be staring off into nothing, but Sam couldn't really tell the difference between Castiel thinking and Castiel day-dreaming. He didn't know whether or not to disturb him.
Deciding that he wouldn't really be interrupting anything with a simple question, a question that had been bugging him for awhile now, Sam cleared his throat and leaned in a bit closer to the table.
"Hey Cass, how do prayers work?"
"What do you mean?" the angel asked, turning his head, startled out of his reverie.
"I mean… I don't know." Sam took a breath. "I've just always wondered how you hear us. I mean, have Dean or I ever done something, like, accidentally prayed to you when just talking or…"
"No, Sam," Castiel smiled, "a prayer needs an intent to be heard. Hearing them, it's not like sound with your ears. We listen with our grace, and that only can happen if you initiate the connection by purposely reaching out." Castiel shook his head and looked down for a moment before meeting Sam's eyes again. "I am unable to properly explain the feeling. Prayers are pure and holy. They resonate with us."
"Can you ignore them?"
"Yes."
"I mean, can you block them out."
"No. Not a prayer directed specifically for you."
"Huh."
There was a brief moment of silence between the two before Castiel spoke up.
"Why the sudden curiosity, Sam?"
"Like I said," he replied, smiling, "it wasn't very sudden. I've wondered about it for awhile and I guess now was the time to ask."
"Sam," Cass trailed off, squinting his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Sam took a deep inhale of breath, letting it out slowly and trying to decide whether or not he should tell Cass the truth. He was so used to keeping things in, and this felt so personal and intimate, but… having secrets has never helped a situation before and if anyone would understand what he's been doing, it would be Castiel.
"I've been praying to Gabriel," he admitted, eyes focused on the pen he was twirling in his hand. "Ever since Metatron used his image against you, I guess I've kind of been hoping he's really around somewhere."
Castiel's gaze held sympathy, but he made no move to talk, so Sam continued, glancing back at his angelic friend.
"The guy laid down his life for us, and we left him for dead. I've just been assuming he's gone, but if he's alive and we haven't looked for him…"
"If Gabriel is alive then he probably doesn't want to be found."
"I guess I just wanted him to know that we want him back - that he's welcome here," Sam whispered.
"Alright you bastard," Sam practically shouted, locking the door to his room and all but tearing off his shirt. He collapsed on his bed, falling on his back into the nest of duvets and pillows.
"Cass said prayers need an intent to be heard, so trust me when I say that I fully intend for you to hear this."
He really wasn't yelling, but his voice boomed so loudly that it was good no one else was in the bunker. For once, he had complete privacy and plans to fully take advantage.
He yanked his jeans open with such force, it was a miracle the buttons didn't fly off. Hooking fingers into the loops, he pulled them down, thumbs catching the waistband of his boxers, taking those off as well. He was completely naked, barely illuminated by the old, incandescent lights that cast a soft-glow over his form.
"I've told you that we're sorry," he ran his hands up his thighs, fingertips brushing lightly over his smooth skin, "I've told you that we're grateful. We asked so much of you, and you came through. Didn't just come through either, you went above and way freakin' beyond."
He gripped himself, beginning a slow rhythm along his length. Sam moaned.
"You told us how to get the devil back into his cage. You gave us the key. You, Gabriel, you stopped the apocalypse. You made it all happen."
His callused hands elicited sparks and felt like heaven, making his breath hitch and eyes squint shut, body pressing further into the soft, down bed.
"We get all the credit, but we don't deserve it. We would have been lost without your guidance, Gabriel come back," he pleaded, "we want you back, we need you back and not because you're some all-powerful trickster god. Not because you're an archangel. Because you're funny."
Sam groaned and turned his head to the side, one hand fisted in the pillow, imagining how these sensations would feel so much better if it were Gabriel instead.
"God, your smile. Your jokes. You could make everyone laugh - even Cass," he let out a stuttered chuckle and unwound his hand from the pillow, snaking it over a nipple and lightly teasing the puckered skin, "we need more of that right now."
"But you know this. I've been telling you every single night for weeks. So let me give you one more reason, and I hope you hear this because I won't call again. I can't, I just can't."
He took a breath and whimpered.
"Let me give you one last reason: me."
His hand moved faster, reacting to the tight sensation pooling in his belly.
"You're fucking gorgeous Gabriel, and I can't get you out of my head. It's driving me crazy that I can't see you or touch you. I could make you feel so good, you deserve to feel amazing, to be treated like the god you are.
"I would shower you in kisses. There wouldn't be an inch of your body that my lips haven't touched. I bet you would look so pretty with purple marks across your skin and you would moan when I give them to you because I'm fucking brilliant with my tongue. From the shell of your ear, down your neck, a flick on your adams apple before taking your nipples into my mouth.
"You would be writhing beneath me because I can use just the right amount of teeth, God you'd be so hard, rutting against me," Sam groaned, burying his face further and thrusting even harder.
"I'm big Gabe. I would be the best fuck you've ever had. You would be so ready because I'll have spent ages prepping you, you'd be absolutely lost. I bet you sound so sexy when you're gone. Little gasps and moans, mewling for me, maybe even begging.
"You could tangle your hand in my hair, take control because maybe I like it a bit rough and - fuck," Sam's breathing was heavy, body covered in sweat. He was close, flushed with heat at his vivid fantasy.
" Our mouths would be tangled with one another as I teased you, rubbing circles around your entrance. And then I'd push in and still until you beg me to move. You'd make the most erotic, pornographic noises. You'd be so tight and-"
A muffled moan tore through his throat as he came.
He sighed, eyes slowly opening to meet a pair of honey-gold ones across the room.
Gabriel let out a breath, "wow Sammy, tell me how you really feel."
The End.