Title: Chick Flick Moment
Author : Miya Morana
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Gabriel
Rating: R
Summary: Dean takes a deep breath. Last chance to change his mind, to pretend he isn't about to have the worst chick flick moment of his entire existence. But Dean Winchester doesn't chicken out.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah, blah, blah, you know the rest.
Word Count: 862
A/N: This fic has been recoreded into a podfic by tinypinkmouse (livejournal).
Dean's alone in the motel room. Castiel's off who-knows-where to look for God, a search that Gabriel keeps assuring them is useless, but the angel can't give up. Sam's just left for the local library to do some research (on what exactly, Dean isn't sure). So here he is, sitting at the table, cleaning his guns, waiting.
And right on cue, less than five minutes after Sam's left the room, Gabriel shows up.
The archangel's suddenly there, straddling Dean's lap, lips already attached to Dean's throat. The hunter moans softly when deft fingers press against his already-hardening cock through his jeans. It takes all of Dean's strength to wrap his hand around the archangel's wrist and pull him away.
Gabriel straightens up on his lap, looks at him with a somewhat bemused frown that reminds Dean of Castiel
"What is it, Dean-o? You seemed in the mood, unless you're hiding a gun in you pants. In which case I'd have to tell you, not the safest place to keep a–"
Dean shuts him up by pressing a finger against the angel's lips. Gabriel, of course, darts his tongue out to lick the digit, and Dean tries to suppress a moan. The archangel smirks as he wraps his lips around the finger and starts sucking lightly on it. His mouth is hot and wet and sinfully tight, and Dean's already panting. Which is totally unfair.
"Gabriel..." he moans, "Gabriel, I need to talk to you..."
Reluctantly, the archangel lets Dean's finger slip out of his mouth, rolling his eyes.
"What is there to talk about?" The archangel sounds already bored.
Dean takes a deep breath. Last chance to change his mind, to pretend he isn't about to have the worst chick flick moment of his entire existence. But Dean Winchester doesn't chicken out.
"I never know where you're off too, what you're doing. I want to know I can trust you."
"Come on!" Gabriel complains. "If I intended to sell you and your brother off don't you think I already would have by now? I thought we were past that!"
"Not what I meant." Dean bites his lip, looks away. "I want to be sure that this…" he makes a vague gesture that could mean anything, really, "that it means something. I wanna be sure you're not screwing around with me."
"Huh." Gabriel sounds genuinely surprised. "You want me to... commit myself to you?"
Dean can feel his cheeks starting to burn and he hates himself for that, but he looks back into the archangel's eyes and nods. With a soft smile, Gabriel lifts a hand and snaps. He's now holding something silvery. Slowly, he shows it to Dean.
There, in the archangel's hand, are two broad silver rings. Their design is both delicate and masculine, made of intricate Celtic knots. Carefully, Dean lifts one between his fingers. It's warm, and he can almost feel it hum against his skin.
"They're Promise Rings." Gabriel's voice is soft and slightly darker than usual. Dean doesn't even think about laughing, though the idea of an angel offering him a Promise Ring should be ridiculous. He looks back from the ring to Gabriel's face.
The archangel's eyes are no longer hazel. They are a deep brownish green that make Dean think of a powerful, ancient forest. These eyes aren't those of a human. They aren't those of an angel either. They are the eyes of a pagan god.
"Any promise made while exchanging these will bind me, and you. Be very careful what you ask of me now, Dean."
The hunter swallows with difficulty. This isn't what he had expected. To be fair, he isn't sure what he expected, but certainly not some kind of binding ritual or whatever this is. He clears his throat. Okay, let's try and make it sound appropriate.
"Do you promise to, er, be faithful to me, not try to cross me or my brother, not sleep with anyone else and, in a word, not betray me in any way?"
"I promise." Gabriel's voice is so low Dean can feel it in his own body. He slides the ring he's holding around the archangel's finger. Dean wonders for a moment if he's imagining the smell of trees and grass in the crappy motel room, but then he doesn't seem to care anymore.
When Gabriel talks again, he's holding Dean's left hand in his warm grasp. "Do you promise to be faithful to me, to trust me and to never abandon me?"
Dean's breath catches in his throat, because that's a vow that sounds pretty definitive. But he finds he wants that, wants to have Gabriel by his side. Forever. Damn, that sounds like wedding vows, doesn't it?
Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. "I promise."
As Gabriel slides the silver ring around his finger, Dean feels all his fears and apprehensions melt away. He looks up into Gabriel's rich, brown-green eyes and watches as they slowly turn back to their usual hazel tones.
Then the archangel smirks. "Happy?" he says, putting his hand back on Dean's crotch. "Can you fuck me into the mattress now?"