Hey There!
This is my first Supernatural fic AND in English (all knowing that I'm about as good in English as a sugar pot, and let Mrs. Potts, where it is (the teapot in Beauty and the Beast )). Don't hit me, don't get me tomatoes, sorry for spelling mistakes or clumsy expressions (I'm French and I tend to have expressions mouthful, so sorry about that!).

I have a rather special writing technique: you say Gabriel + Reader + T-shirt "mussel fishing" (mussels being to women that the banana is to men, to make into the poetic) ; I answer "CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! "(Tatataaaaam ! But don't ask me to make a statue of Castiel with tampon tubes anyway!)

Fandom : Supernatural

Pairing : Gabriel x Reader (because he is wearing a shirt ... What? What other reason would I have?)

Words : 1039

Warning: none (for now, at the time of writing the intro!) forgiveness in advance for exclamation marks and parentheses! Oh, and I have a sugar!Kink. I specify. Just in case !

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V

There's one thing that I find particularly enjoyable. You know what a plate is? And a wash basin? And a sponge? Okay! You're amazing! There is nothing more enjoyable than being in front of the sink in your little kitchen, washing dishes at 11pm (because facing the Devil? No problem, I do it with a lollipop in my mouth and two buffers in my ears. But my pile of dishes? Brrr! Vade Retro Santa Nanas!).

So in the beginning, you grumble, you imitate Crowley, then you say to yourself, "What is the one thing to do when you have a sink before you? Singing something from Disney, of course!"

And now, who is found singing "Zero to Hero" in the kitchen?

We are! Well, you, me, us, we are all one. God (Chuck) is present in all of us, especially my neighbors when they bang on the walls to cheer for me, asking for more and more!

In short, I was singing loudly with a completely messy bun on my head, wearing only a T-shirt that read "mussel fishing" and shorts with a duck pattern (I'm home, I do what I want!), when I felt a pair of arms wrapping around my waist. I yelped (here, we abandon the idea of a sexy woman who's very primed. Whatever doesn't kill you makes rained hard, then go for it!) while a pair of warm lips arose against my neck.

A smile spread on his lips. "Hello, cupcake."

"Gabriel!" I turned to kiss my boyfriend/Archangel, gently playing with the hair strands on his neck while he fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

"Did you miss me?" He asked as he followed the curve of my jaw with his lips (remember the Sugar!Kink? Hmm!).

"I'm sorry, I just... I can't even concentrate. It's like... staring into the sun." I said, leaning backward melodramatically, arching my back.

His eyes bent over the pattern of my top, causing a monumental bitchface from him (sorry, Sam Winchester, I have no other words. Look at his part in the Pepsi commercial, at the time of the rocket, it's THIS head). Reporting to me in a move worthy of Dirty Dancing (I haven't seen Dirty Dancing. It was either that or "No mercy for growing". My heart has chosen.), I found myself face to face with him again, pecking his lips (if I had to pick a taste, it would be that of peanut butter M&M's for one particular reason: in one dose, I was addicted).

"You want to do something special tonight?"

"Dancing the Twist in the middle of the Sistine Chapel?"

"Go see Moses aside the Red Sea? He was a cool guy!"

"Get into the pranks store of the Weasley Brothers?" I have an archangel buddy! Who wants to go for a walk in Middle-Earth?

"Or simply stay under the blankets to cuddle all night, watching the Supernatural DVDs (God save The French Mistake), and eating a lot of sweets?"

At that, I had to smile, he gave me a wink and suddenly I was propelled in the middle of the Sistine Chapel under the superb work of Michelangelo... Still wearing my uniform of war! Xena has armor, Spiderman has tights, and I have ducks... High five!

But no time to admire the ceiling, or the scene of the Last Judgment at the bottom. "The Twist" by Chubby Checker started and Gabriel grabbed my hand. He led me on a devilish twist across the room. Then "Watch Out For This" started, followed by pop hits, and Beethoven (I think I pulled a muscle raising his leg too high, or how to transform the Twist in Moulin Rouge).

The rhythm of the music changed, and "Hey Jude" began to pass in our Mind Palace (quite cliché, so go for it). My hand gently grabbed his, while his other hand snaked down my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, touching our foreheads together, while his hands gently reached down to my ass.

"Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Cause you have a pretty sweet ass." His sentence snatched a smile, as he gave me a wink and continued the momentum.

"Are you religious? Because you're the answer to all my prayers." I said.

"If God made anything more beautiful than you, I'm sure he'd keep it for himself."

"There are people who say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Apparently, none of them have ever been in your arms."

He smiled at my last cheesy pick-up line, then cocked his head to the side, a soft smile on his face. "Do you have a map? I'm getting lost in your eyes."

I laughed softly, murmuring against his ear, closer to me, "It was my sentence."

"I'm not staring at your boobs. I'm..."

I silenced him by placing my lips against his, my nails scraping against the skin of his neck. I bit his lower lip and then he timidly ran his tongue against my lips before driving our languages in a wild dance.

He let me catch my breath a few minutes later, my head against his shoulder. He made a shocked face. "Silencing me with a kiss, that's so arrogant."

I pretended to walk away with an eyebrow movement he would be proud of, and he hung up on me before kissing me again. In the distance we could hear the Swiss Guards (the height of sexitude) approaching.

"You're so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line." he said. "Shall we move?"

"Guilty, your honor! I love watching the Moose make the teapot anyway!"

We shared one last smile and a last look at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, then he zapped us back home.

"No more cheesy pick-up lines, okay, love?" I said with a look of a puppy whose unworthy master had abandoned him in torrential rain.

We lay on the couch, legs intertwined, his arm around my waist and my head resting on his shoulder. He made a bunch of sweets appear along with and a thick blanket, while I launched Season 5 of Supernatural.

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"You look cold. Want to use me as a blanket?"

*sound of a pillow striking a figure*