I cry out "Love keep your arms around me",
I am a bird that's in need of grounding,
I'm built to fly away, I never learned how to stay.
The night is gonna fall and the vultures will surround you,
And when you're lookin' in the mirror what you see is gon' astound you.
But all these lines and greys refine, they are the maps of our design,
Of what began on a Monday morning.
- "Monday Morning," Death Cab for Cutie
How it started:
"Don't forget you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."
Gabriel's face contorted, as the blade pressed up under his ribcage. Lucifer smirked, and frowned, looking almost sad, then stiffened.
"You're dumber than a pile o' rocks, bro." Gabriel gave his blade another twist in Lucifer's back. "It's called a double bluff and you really shoulda seen that coming."
But of course, Luci wouldn't die that easy. He twisted himself away from the blade and fastened a rough hand around Gabriel's throat, shoving him up against the table with a snarl.
Gabe just smiled faintly, twirling his sword in his hand. He sighed, regretfully, muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, and in a movement so quick not even Lucifer could track it, jammed his blade up through the base of his brother's skull. A few quick murmurs back and forth, some whimpering, some struggling, and Lucifer dropped, spreading the dusty outline of his wings and halo in a burst of light to adorn the floor like a charcoal drawing.
Gabriel grinned, and managed to transport himself to the Impala before he passed out in the back seat, bleeding grace from the jagged wound in his chest. He hadn't in fact, been entirely bluffing. The second copy of himself had indeed held a significant portion of his angelic Self. He was severely wounded.
How it continues:
Dean swore and the Impala lurched as he swerved and screeched to a stop, crooked across the road. He twisted in his seat, eyes blown, angry. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Sam reached out a hand, laying it against Dean's shoulder.
"Dean..."
Dean took a moment to truly look at Gabriel, sprawled in the back seat with his hands linked together over his ribcage, a sick grimace twisted across his lips. His chest heaved. A white-hot light leaked from between his interlocked fingers, illuminating the inside of the car and making the Winchester brothers' eyes burn. He lifted his gaze to meet Dean's, eyes lit from within with the same snowy glow that bled from his chest. "Drive."
Sam slapped Dean's shoulder, eyes wide, and Dean whirled around and set the engine roaring. The Impala growled low and peeled off down the road with a rip of worn rubber, headlights blazing a path ahead in the night.
... ... ...
Gabriel's head lolled against Sam's shoulder, threatening to hang back over his arm to expose his throat. Sam tried not to jostle him, resettled him in his arms so that he rested more comfortably, and tightened his grip on the backs of Gabe's knees and waist. He trod with light feet, and trailed behind Dean, heading up the porch steps and ensuring Gabriel's hands stayed pressed tight on his wound despite his unconsciousness. The glow lit his face from underneath and sent strange shadows licking in front of Dean's feet. Sam stumbled, somewhat, and Gabriel let out a reedy whine. Sam nudged Dean with his elbow.
Dean pounded on Bobby's door, and shouted, "BOBBY. We got an angelic emergency!"
The lights flicked on inside in quick succession and Bobby yanked the door open, sawed-off in hand, scowl in place, cap jammed tight down over his forehead. "Get inside." He stepped to the side. Dean shouldered his way past Bobby, and Sam clutched Gabriel to his chest—careful not to squeeze too hard—as he squeezed his way past their surrogate father. Bobby let the door bang shut behind him.
"I'm gonna assume you boys are the real deal, considering you got what seems to be a wounded goddamn angel." He set his shotgun on a bookshelf and shoved his hands in his pockets with a foul expression. "The hell'd you idjits do?"
Sam held his breath, nervous, and lowered Gabe onto the rickety couch, sinking into a crouch beside him and rearranging his limbs to be more comfortable. He pressed a palm down on the backs of Gabriel's hands. "Not sure. Looks like Lucifer stabbed him, though." He shifted, and pulled back one of Gabriel's eyelids. Eyes white all around, rolled back. Unconscious. Sam swore softly.
"Christ." Dean ran a hand through his hair, sending it sticking up every which way.
Gabe's breath came in shallow pants. A bad sign. Angels shouldn't have labored breathing. His skin had gone pale, as well, and disturbingly cold to the touch considering the usual amount of heat Gabe radiated verged on "uncomfortably furnace-like." Sam's hand trailed back down and he pried Gabriel's fingers apart, spreading them away from the wound. Light beamed up from the tattered hole in his shirt. Sam undid the buttons one-by-one, and peeled the fabric back. It stuck with blood. Another bad sign, considering angels tended not to bleed much. A vicious wound put out tendrils and streams of bright Grace in pulses. Sam prodded the raw flesh and Gabriel moaned high and hoarse and pained. Sam flinched away. "Dean." He looked over his shoulder, catching his big brother's eyes. "Call Cas."
Dean nodded, and closed his eyes, and mumbled a prayer under his breath.
They waited, tense, and Dean paced. Sam pulled a handkerchief—oil-smeared but better than nothing—from the table beside the couch and pressed it against Gabe's chest. The sound Gabe made was wretched but Sam bit down against his apprehension and did his best to staunch the flow of blood and Grace. The Grace refused to be held back and broke out between his fingers hot and blinding in a steady stream at the pace of a slowing heart.
"Dean." Castiel's voice grated out accompanied by the rustle of wings. Sam's breath hitched in surprise, and Bobby jumped with a curse and a grumble. Castiel frowned, forehead creased. "What's happened?" He knelt beside Sam.
Sam swallowed, and Castiel's hands covered his, warm and steadying. Sam pulled a face. "Lucifer got him, with his own blade, I think." He laughed, harsh and unamused. "Only thing that would do this, right?"
Castiel nodded solemnly. He pushed Sam away, and Sam stood to watch as Castiel drew the handkerchief away and drew his fingers over Gabriel's broken skin. Gabe shuddered, and his eyes rolled beneath their lids. Castiel's eyebrows drew together. "Sam. Take him downstairs and restrain him." He stared straight at Sam with sharp blue-gray eyes. "I need to procure some books."
Sam grunted in affirmation and pulled Gabe into his arms. Castiel disappeared in a whisper of sound. Sam left Dean and Bobby in the living room, and made his way down the stairs—careful not to trip—to the panic room. He slipped inside and laid Gabriel out on the cot before strapping his wrists and ankles to the metal frame. Gabriel had begun to shiver, little constant spasms down his entire body, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. His breaths came out broken and staggered, and when Sam pressed his fingers against the angel's throat, his heartbeat pulsed sluggish and delayed. His eyes flickered underneath their lids and a slight glow trickled from them. Sam placed his palm against Gabriel's forehead. Freezing, clammy.
Sam sighed, steadying himself against the cot. He'd feel beyond guilty if Gabriel ended up dead for their sake.
"Sam."
Sam flinched, and looked around. Cas held a book. He stepped closer, and handed it to Sam, before looking down at his brother. "He's dying, Sam." Castiel did not look up. Frowned.
"Oh God." Sam palmed at his mouth. "Shit."
Castiel turned and wrapped his fingers around Sam's wrists, and stared at him. "Calm down. I can save him." He raised his eyebrows emphatically, and released Sam's arms.
"I'm calm. I'm fine." Sam licked his lips. "How can I help?"
Castiel's lips twitched in the slightest of confident smiles. He led Sam through the process a few times, laying out each step. Reassured him that it would work. Had him bandage Gabriel's wound. Informed him that Dean was upstairs setting up the bed in the guest room, and Bobby was in the kitchen preparing a can of soup. Finally, they began.
"This will not prevent his Grace from exiting his vessel." Castiel peeled out of his jacket, and folded it before laying it on the floor. "However it will bind his soul to this body and prevent his death." He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, and loosened his tie to throw it atop the jacket. "However he will have to heal, physically, on his own, because my own Grace will be sorely weakened."
Sam took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled noisily from his mouth. "Alright." He stood at the head of the cot and wrapped his fingers tight around Gabe's shoulders. "Let's do it." Grace had been steadily leaving through Gabriel's wound, eyes, mouth and nose for the past minute, growing brighter.
Castiel nodded, stern and concerned, but utterly relaxed. He began to chant in Enochian, and planted one hand, fingers splayed wide, over Gabriel's solar plexus. The light doubled in intensity, and Gabriel tensed beneath his touch, face pulling into a grimace, nostrils flaring wide, teeth bared and eyelids fluttering. Sam kept a firm grip on him, and joined in with Castiel's spell, in Old Norse.
The glow of Grace pulsed violently and Gabriel convulsed. Sam pushed him down against the cot with a grunt but didn't stop the flow of words. Gabriel's eyes flew open and his chest expanded with a groan. His jaw clenched around another whine, and though his eyes were fixed on the devil's trap in the ceiling, he clearly saw nothing. His eyes rolled wildly and he tensed and untensed on the cot.
Gabriel's Grace poured from him in waves of blinding light, and Castiel's firm hands acted as the only things keeping him from arching off of the cot.
"Now, Sam!"
Sam immediately ceased his own chanting—though Castiel's low voice continued almost as if it had never stopped—and grabbed the smooth, triangular stone in his pocket. He pried Gabriel's mouth open and shoved the stone inside before pressing his jaw shut again and covering Gabe's mouth with his hand. Castiel ended his incantation on one word, and pulled his hands away from the wound, choosing instead to plant one on Gabriel's hip and the other on his sternum.
Gabriel's pupils widened 'til nothing but a thin golden-white band of his iris could be seen, thin as a thread. He screamed through Sam's hands and jerked at his restraints.
Light exploded from him in a rush of light and alternating waves of burning cold and stifling heat.
When the light faded, Sam couldn't see for several long seconds.
Gabriel had stilled beneath their hands, and fallen silent.
"..." Sam heaved a shuddering breath and allowed himself to relax, and slipped his fingers into Gabriel's mouth—wet, and more importantly, warm—to remove the stone. He dropped the little rock to the floor. "Did it...?"
"It worked." Castiel stepped away from the cot.
Sam listened to Gabe's slow, quiet breaths, and watched his chest rise and fall, the crimson blossom of blood on his bandages nearly black in the dim light of the panic room.
He sighed heavily, and set about unshackling the Archangel, so he could transfer him to the bed upstairs.
... ... ...
"Where am I...?" Gabriel squinted his eyes open. The mild morning sunlight beat down harsh on his senses. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw an arm over his face. Then hissed in a sharp breath of pain at the pang through his torso. He almost tried to sit up, but the mere act of getting his elbows underneath him as support sent a wave of agony and nausea through him. He fell back against the pillows and whimpered.
Sam reached out a hand to check his temperature—a slight fever—and smoothed his hair back from his face in a strangely maternal gesture. Gabriel relaxed under his touch. Sam murmured soft so as not to startle him or aggravate the headache he likely had, "You're at Singer Salvage, with me—Sam Winchester—and my brother, and Castiel, and Bobby Singer." He paused, and adjusted the quilt around Gabriel's waist. "You got hurt, and we stopped you from dying, but your Grace is gone."
Gabriel pulled in a sharp, ragged gasp. "What?" He opened his eyes again, and this time ignored the sharp light streaming through the windows. "Say that again."
"Your Grace is gone..." Sam gave him a sympathetic frown.
Gabriel whimpered again. "Fuck."
Sam pressed a cool hand against Gabriel's cheek, and Gabe's eyes fluttered back shut. He shifted in his chair beside the bed, and smoothed one hand across Gabriel's t-shirt—one of Dean's old Zeppelin shirts, with Icarus. "Gabriel..." He sighed. "What happened in the hotel, with Lucifer?"
Gabe laughed bitterly. He pushed Sam's soft touches away. "Son of a bitch stabbed me but I killed him." He sneered. "Killed my own big bro, just for you guys. Aren't ya proud?" He gulped and turned his head away from the light.
Sam bit his lip, and reached over the draw the curtains shut, bathing the room in darkness. Gabriel wilted against the sheets in relief. Sam ran his hands through his hair nervously.
"Gabriel, I—" He looked down at his knees. "I'm sorry."
Gabe snorted. "Shut up. Didn't do anything wrong. Not your fault you were born as the Morningstar's one true vessel or whatever the hell." He reached out and squeezed Sam's hand with burning fingers. Managed half a smirk. "In any case, no apocalypse's gonna happen with ol' Luci dead."
Sam smiled softly. "Yeah." He wrapped his fingers around Gabriel's, firm and steady. "Guess you're right."
Gabriel laughed, and it came out hoarse and a little pained.
"'Course I'm right."
... ... ...
"Dammit, Gabe!" Dean slammed his clenched fist down on the kitchen table loud enough to rattle the plates on its surface. He glared down at the Archangel, who returned his sour look obstinately. Dean clenched his jaw. "I don't fucking care if you don't like scrambled eggs. You need some fucking protein and Sam'll skin me if you don't eat."
Gabriel's nostrils flared. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. "You think I give a damn? I'm not hungry and eggs make me wanna throw up." He snorted. "At least lemme eat something light, like jello or... or an orange." He raised his eyebrows. "I need to not barf more than I need protein."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Fine." He whirled around and rummaged around in the old, wheezing refrigerator before he found something that satisfied him. He hefted out a perforated bag of green grapes and dropped them on the table in front of Gabriel. "Eat some damn fruit." He left the room.
Gabriel stuck his tongue out at Dean's retreating back.
"Gabriel?"
Gabriel twitched, still unused to his inability to sense living creatures. He glanced over his shoulder, and half-smiled at Sam. "Hey."
"You fightin' with Dean again?" Sam's voice came out slurred and heavy, and his hair stuck out in a few directions, pushed up flat against one side of his head. He squinted at the bag of grapes, and rolled his eyes.
Gabriel shrugged, a little embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. "He was tryin' to make me eat eggs."
"Lemme guess. Eggs not soundin' too appetizing?" Sam sat across from Gabe with a little grin. He quirked an eyebrow.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah." He plucked a grape from its stem and popped it into his mouth. "Too heavy, too oily, too... ugh." He shuddered, pulling a face. Sam laughed and Gabe kept on talking. "I don't get how you people do it!" He threw his hands wide and winced when it caused a slight tug of pain in his abdomen. "I'm so fuckin' tired but I can't sleep. Gotta piss constantly—and don't even get me started on shitting—and I mean... Sweat? Ugh. And I'm starving but I can't eat anything other than fruit and water, and I'm sore all over and my chest hurts like Hell and I just..." He ate another grape, glaring at the wood grain of the table. "I have a newfound respect for humans." He pulled a face and munched away on his handful of fruit.
Sam chuckled, quiet. "Sucks, don't it?" He tapped on the edge of the table with a yawn. "But hey, there're good things." He grinned at Gabriel.
"Like what?" Gabe crossed his arms, stubborn and grumpy.
Sam laughed. "Well." He spread his fingers over the tabletop. "There's the feelin' of sunlight on your face." He rolled his eyes at Gabe's scoff. "And there's chocolate. A nice spring breeze on a warm day." He gnawed on his lip thoughtfully. "Good food, and hugs, and sitting by the fireplace in the winter, and singin' in the car as loud as you can, and sex and kissing and all sortsa stuff." He gave Gabe a smug look.
Gabriel snorted. "I'll believe it when I experience it for myself." He shrugged. "Besides, there's no way sex as a human is any good compared to sex as an angel." He raised his eyebrows. "It's probably all messy and sweaty and nasty."
Sam huffed out a small laugh. "Whatever, dude." He flicked at Gabriel's knuckle, and Gabriel flinched with a soft curse, and pulled his hand away.
Sam laughed. "Fine." He stood. "You go out and have your first human kiss and fuck, and you tell me if it's better or worse."
Gabriel scowled. "Fuck you." He leaned back in his chair. "Not gonna go out and screw some random mud monkey."
Sam paused on his way to the living room. "Wait." He smirked wide and playful. "You've never kissed a real human, have you?"
Gabriel felt his face go red—one more thing to add to the list of bodily functions that sucked ass—and he went on the defensive. "Screw you, Winchester! I totally have."
"You totally haven't!" Sam's grin was wide and way too amused for Gabe's liking. "You've made out with goddesses and that woman in the porno, and your little constructs, but you've never kissed a real mortal!" He laughed, not bothering to cover his mouth and the flash of super white teeth. His dimples made Gabriel want to strangle a small animal.
"Shut up." Gabriel pointed a threatening finger at him, and shoved another handful of grapes into his mouth.
Sam snickered his way into the living room, and Gabriel glared at him.
... ... ...
Gabriel took a deep, steadying breath. Okay, maybe the whole sex as a human thing wasn't so bad. Well. Not really sex. Masturbation. Still. He turned his face into the spray of the shower, feeling a little more relaxed than he had in a few days, even if he did have to shower with a plastic bag taped around his chest to protect his bandages. He pushed his hair back from his face and let himself stand in the steam and hot water for a long time. He liked showers. Eventually, though, the water began to lose heat, so he sighed and shut it off before stepping out into the comparatively cooler air of the bathroom. Goosebumps raised up all across his arms and legs, and he had to admit he kind of liked the tingly feeling the chill sent up his spine. He shivered and rubbed himself down with a towel awkwardly—still not quite used to doing that kind of thing—until his skin was pink and warm. He dressed quickly, and headed downstairs.
"'S weird." Sam's voice carried soft from the kitchen.
Gabe heard Dean snort, as he walked into the room. "Damn straight." He gnawed on his bacon with a content hum.
Gabriel cleared his throat. "Whatcha talkin' about?" He smirked. "Sam's sex life? 'Cause I hear he's pretty freaky." He found his joke rewarded with a choking snort and glare from Dean, and one of Sam's famed "bitchfaces." He waggled his eyebrows. Sam rolled his eyes, and thumped Dean on the back.
"Looks like someone's in a good mood." Sam raised an eyebrow.
Gabriel shrugged and sat down at the table, carding a hand through his still-damp hair. "Yeah, well." He smirked. "I had a nice shower."
"Dude." Dean pulled a face. "Gross."
Gabriel barked out a laugh. "I didn't say anything, Ken Doll." He raised a hand in a mock salute. "You're the one whose mind jumped into the sewer."
Sam snorted at that, and Gabriel grinned at him as dazzlingly as he knew how. Sam rolled his eyes but smiled back.
"You want some pancakes? They're still warm, I think." Sam stood. Gabriel perked up.
"Um," He tilted his head. "Hell yes? What kinda dumb question is that?" He leaned his elbows on the table. Sam shook his head with a grin, and slid a plate in front of Gabriel, thunking a bottle of syrup and a fork down beside it.
"Don't use too much syrup. Bobby'll kill you."
Gabriel placed a hand over his heart. "Promise. Scout's honor." He winked, and set to work drowning his breakfast in artificial tree sap.
... ... ...
"How the fuck do you people stand it?!"
Sam closed his book—figured dealing with the temper of an ex-angel might in fact be somewhat more fascinating than reading a 500 year old account of a court case. He sighed. Folded his hands over the leather cover and looked up. "Stand what?"
Gabriel threw his arms wide in an expansive gesture before he threw himself onto the couch beside Sam. "I dunno—everything!" He crossed his arms and pouted. "I'm always hungry or thirsty or sore or tired! I can't sleep because I have nightmares and I can't stay awake constantly or I'll hurt myself." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face in his hands. "Everything takes energy."
Sam smirked. "At least you can still speak a ton of different languages." He raised his eyebrows. He put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder with a small, reassuring shake. "Right?"
"No może i masz rację." Gabriel shot Sam a sidelong grin, letting his hands drag away from his face. "Still. It kinda sucks to have to walk everywhere and eat Bobby's shitty food."
Sam slapped the back of Gabriel's head lightly. "Don't be a jerk." His arm settled along the back of the couch and he drummed his fingers on his book. He looked at Gabe, thoughtful. "There are other things too, though." He leaned his head back. "The smell of rain, feeling how soft a rabbit is when you pet it, watching the stars at night, the taste of homemade biscuits and gravy, listening to the people you care about talk real quiet three floors down when you wake up at noon, with a record playing. Home and family and belonging. The thrill of surviving a hunt." His lips curved and his eyes drifted shut, and his fingers stilled. He took a slow breath. "Sheriff Mills' casseroles."
Gabriel stared at him for a long time—watched the way Sam's chest moved slow and steady and the way his expression gentled as he thought of everything he loved and the slant of sunlight across his face highlighting his eyelashes spread long on his cheeks. Gabe cleared his throat. Sam's eyes twitched open. He blushed. Gabriel grinned at him.
"You're a sap."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Like you aren't?" He grinned and his teeth flashed white and straight. "I may hate that song now, but I know 'Heat of the Moment' is a love song." He spread his other arm along the back of the couch and stretched his long legs out until he could prop his boots on the coffee table. He grinned and his eyes squinted a little for it. "I bet you're more of a sap than me."
"At least my heart doesn't bleed all over everything like a maidenly fountain of sympathy." Gabriel raised one eyebrow high with a mocking expression.
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Just because I'm not some apathetic gorilla like Dean doesn't mean I'm a bleeding heart." He flicked the back of Gabriel's head.
"You so are!" Gabe swatted at Sam's hand, and scooted a little to the side. He crossed his arms. "Not to mention a tremendous flirt." He smirked.
Sam scoffed. "Whatever." He leaned his head back against the couch again, and slid a little down against the cushions so he could bend his knees. "Least I never had sex with a boulder."
Gabriel squinted at him. He pulled a face and stood. "It's rude to look into people's pasts, Sambo." He let out a breath of feigned offense and whirled to walk away. He found himself stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looked down.
Sam had his fingers wrapped around Gabe's wrist, but his eyes still closed, with a tiny playful smile on his lips. He said, "Your past is plastered through hundreds of mythology and history books, dude." He cracked one eye open.
Gabriel let loose a dramatic sigh. He allowed himself to be dragged back down to the couch by his arm (not that he could have prevented it as a powerless human being, considering Sam's bulk and strength) and leveled a critical gaze on Sam. "You suck."
"I rule." Sam wrapped his arm around Gabriel's shoulders. "And I am going to force you to sit here with me while I do research, because I'm bored."
Gabriel glared at Sam.
... ... ...
"Dude." Sam pulled a face. "Seriously, Dean. That's disgusting."
Dean grinned at Sam around his mouthful of tuna, pickles, bacon, white bread and way too much spicy mustard. "Shut up, bitch, it's delicious." He deigned to swallow and then continued, "Cas thinks it's good."
Cas cleared his throat and looked away. "It's not... awful..." He shrugged.
Gabe stared at him. "It smells revolting." He pointed a finger at Dean. "Like, is this lurching feeling in my gut nausea? Because I'm not well-versed in bodily functions but I think I might throw up if someone doesn't open a window." He licked his lips. Dean stared at him for a minute, then smirked before taking another too-large bite. Pickle juice and mustard dripped down his fingers. Gabriel shoved his chair back from the table and left the room with a stumble and muttered, "Father help me."
Sam sighed. "I'll make sure he doesn't barf on your car." He left.
Dean made an offended noise at his retreating back.
Sam nearly tripped down the front steps, and made his way over to Gabe, who stood in the middle of the gravel driveway with his face turned into the sunlight and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He smiled and flicked Gabriel's ear.
"You gonna be sick?"
Gabriel smirked. "Nah." He took a deep breath of the dry summer air. "Just fuckin' with him. That sandwich is absolutely horrifying though."
Sam snorted. "Yeah." He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and watched Gabe bask for a few drawn out minutes. Eventually Gabriel's eyes snicked open.
"Stop staring, it's creepin' me out."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay. 'Cause staring is so disturbing compared to all the shit we've seen." His eyebrows lifted emphatically, and he rocked a little on his heels.
"Point taken." Gabriel grinned in that infectious, seemingly toothless way he had, all crinkly eyes and little flicker of tongue, and looked out over the scenic mountains of dilapidated cars that littered Singer Salvage. Sam shot him an exasperated grin.
... ... ...
"There's a nest of harpies in North Dakota we're gonna take a look at." Dean nodded toward the front door. "You wanna come?"
Sam eyed Dean and Castiel from his spot on the couch. He'd just gotten nice and settled, with the fireplace smoldering low and warm, and Gabriel chose that precise moment to throw his legs across Sam's lap. Sam rolled his eyes and opened his book over Gabe's knees. "Think I'll pass, today. You two go have fun." He grinned.
Dean scoffed at him. "Bitch." He grabbed Cas by the elbow and tugged him toward the front of the house. The door shut with a clatter and Sam muttered, "Jerk" a little too late.
Gabriel snorted, head propped against the arm of the couch, a yellowed Playboy in his fingers, ankles crossed and thighs pressing warm against Sam's lap. Sam pulled a face. "Come on, seriously?" He shot Gabe a pained expression. "You're gonna read porn while you sit on me?"
"I'm not sitting on you." Gabriel waggled his eyebrows without looking away from his mag and turned a page after licking his thumb. "Anyway, I'm reading for the articles."
Sam rubbed his forehead. "Sure. Whatever." He found his place in his copy of American Gods and relaxed against the cushions, a little too warm and a little sore from chopping wood the night before and perfectly content in the silence of Bobby's empty house. (Bobby was on a date. With the sheriff.)
Sam barely made it ten pages before he heard the rustle of paper, and glanced at Gabriel. Gabe's head lolled to the side and the magazine lay open on his chest, and one hand draped over its spine while the other arm hung off the side of the couch. His mouth hung slightly open and a little stray strand of hair drifted over his eyes. He almost snored—still recovering from his first head cold ever. Sam smiled. He shifted to be more comfortable—eliciting a little grumble from Gabriel—and kept reading.
Forty minutes later they both slept in the dwindling glow from the fireplace with the sound of rain rattling the windows, looking decidedly uncomfortable but happy.
When Dean and Castiel returned near one am, they snuck in quietly and almost didn't see Sam and Gabe on the couch. Castiel's lips twitched, and he drew Dean's attention to their brothers' prone forms on the couch. Dean smirked. "Their necks are gonna hurt like hell in the morning." Cas' lips pulled back in a gummy grin. Dean squeezed his elbow and they wandered upstairs, one to sleep and the other to keep watch over his righteous man.
Sam stirred, and his fingers curled in the edge of Gabriel's borrowed plaid shirt.
... ... ...
"The human body is all kinds of inconvenient." Gabriel grimaced.
Sam blinked at him. "Yeah? I think morning wood is pretty non-problematic compared to, say, throwing up because you drank too much water." He snorted.
Gabriel pulled a face. "Oh, shut up." He flopped onto his stomach with a grunt and flung his limbs out wide, burying his face in the sheets, feeling the fabric under his fingers. It was a sensory experience he honestly never tired of—the course softness of the cotton, the dusty yet lived-in smell, the firmness of the mattress. He had his own bed—if a fold-out futon in the corner of Sam's room really counted—but he much preferred the younger Winchester's. More comfortable for one. He often snuck into it in the middle of the night, much to Sam's chagrin. "Anyhow!" He waved one arm about aimlessly. "I guess I should count myself lucky that I woke up pressed against the one person who wouldn't freak out about it."
"I grew up sharing a bed with Dean for half my life." Sam crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against his pillows. He smirked. "It's a natural thing, anyway." He shrugged. "You know?"
Gabriel eyed him. "Still embarrassing."
"Well, yeah." Sam kneed Gabe's side. He raised his eyebrows.
Gabriel scowled. He pulled himself to his knees and crawled his way up Sam, purposefully jamming his knee into Sam's stomach. Sam grunted and thumped the side of Gabe's head.
"Knock it off, dick."
Gabe rolled his eyes. "You started it." He dropped his weight down on Sam, laying his head on his chest and dangling his arms around the other's neck. His legs snaked between Sam's.
Sam frowned. "Someone's cuddly." He laughed under his breath. "Feeling neglected?"
Gabriel pulled back with a rush of breath and a downward cast of his eyes. "Sorry."
Sam rolled his eyes and tugged him back down. He fastened his arms around Gabriel's shoulders and rested his chin on the top of his head. "Shut up and snuggle with me." He settled them more comfortably onto their sides, legs tangled, with Gabriel's face just centimeters away from Sam's throat. "I read somewhere that to be happy humans need a certain amount of touch and interaction, so let's just say it's for health purposes." He pressed his nose into Gabe's hair with a soft sigh.
"...Okay." Gabriel fisted his hands in Sam's shirt. "I can go along with that."
Sam laughed, and it rumbled through his chest.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
He smiled.
... ... ...
Gabriel rolled his head to the side and stared at Sam, sitting beside him with an occult book in his lap. Eventually Sam fidgeted and glanced up and his forehead crinkled. "Is there a bug on my face or something?" He tapped his fingers on the pages of his book.
"Can I kiss you?"
Sam blinked.
"What?"
Gabe's mouth twisted. "It's just—" He took a frustrated breath and looked away. "You were right, I've never kissed a living, breathing human being and..." He shrugged. "And I figure it probably feels different anyhow, now that I'm... you know." He rubbed his palm down the leg of his jeans. Kept his eyes on the fireplace.
Sam sighed. "C'mere." He reached out a hand.
Gabriel took a few moments to process, and then his eyes snapped toward Sam's face—an amused but not unkind smile and eyes lit warm and twinkly from the fire. Dimples. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up and he took Sam's hand.
Sam tugged him closer, and Gabe nearly fell off the couch before righting himself and essentially plowing into Sam's mouth. It wasn't the most elegant or sexy of kisses, but it was warm and a nice balance between soft and dry and a little scratchy at the edges. Completely the opposite of what he was used to. His breath hitched and he reached up to thread his hands through Sam's hair—Sam's right hand snaked around Gabriel's waist and the other lifted to grip at the back of his head and keep him from pulling away.
Sam released him just when he felt like he might explode, breathing hard through his nose, and Gabriel fell back against the arm of the couch with a strangled grunt. His cheeks felt like the hood of the Impala after a hot August day, when he rubbed a hand over his face and back through his hair with a shaky breath.
"That was..." Gabriel licked his lips. "Different."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Not too terrible, I hope." His mouth twitched into a smirk.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Do it again."
Sam grinned and moved to pin Gabriel against the cushions, and pressed his palms against his jaw and shoved their lips together with more force than before.
Gabe squirmed beneath him and threw his arms around Sam's neck.
Sam kissed his way into Gabriel's mouth. He drew a quiet, shocked noise from Gabe's throat, and laughed, and bit Gabriel's lower lip with a gentle insistence. Gabriel dug his fingers in against the skin at the back of Sam's neck and pushed back. Sam growled low, and Gabriel felt his body temperature rise immediately.
Being, for all intents and purposes, powerless underneath Sam sent a shiver up Gabe's spine but he liked it. A new experience, sure, being unable to send Sam flying with a snap or shove him off or really do anything other than return his shockingly feral kisses and rake his nails over Sam's shoulders. It felt invigorating and restricting, but oddly freeing.
It definitely turned him on.
Sam pulled his mouth away with a final kiss to the side of Gabriel's mouth, and whispered into his ear, "That's enough for today." He stood, and stretched his arms over his head with a grimace. "I gotta go start dinner for when Dean and Bobby get back from smokin' that manticore." He smirked, and turned, and made his way to the kitchen.
"Oh, come on!"
Gabriel scowled and lay sullen on the couch, until he finally gave in and wandered after Sam to sample the various ingredients strewn about in the kitchen.
Sam grinned at him and taught him how to make pumpkin pie.