(Author's note: this was inspired by a fic I read where Dean had to give Cas an injection in the butt (and then some cuddling, which was the best part). I switched characters because I wanted to see how they would get around Gabriel's "issues" with needles. Takes place at the end of Season 13.)
The bloodcurdling scream echoed through the bunker and brought Dean running to the room that was currently Gabriel's. When he got there, he found Sam and Cas standing by the bed anxiously. Both seemed all right; neither one appeared to be the source of the scream.
"What the hell's going on?" he demanded.
"Dean, stay back," Sam said in a low voice, without turning around. "I'll explain it all to you in a moment, but you need to stay out of the way."
Dean nodded, even though he knew his brother couldn't see him, and took a few steps back through the doorway. Sam dropped to one knee and spoke in a low, soothing voice.
"Gabriel? Gabe? It's me, Sam. You need to come out, okay?"
His only answer was a terrified whimper coming from the corner where the bed met the wall. From this angle, Dean could see the archangel crouched there. His face was flushed red and he was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Flashback?" Dean whispered to Cas.
The angel nodded. "A bad one. Let Sam handle it."
Fine. Dean kept quiet and waited to see what Sam would do.
"It's okay, Gabe. I put it away, see?" He spread his empty hands wide. "I don't want to hurt you. But we have to give you the medicine for your fever, and the doctor said that it's not available any other way. Now I'll give you a few minutes to calm down, and then we'll try again."
"No . . ." The word was barely more than a whisper. "Please . . ."
"I'll be back in a minute, okay, Gabe? We'll talk about it then." He backed out of the room, keeping his hands in sight, and then he quietly closed the door and turned to Dean.
"Sorry about that. I didn't want too many people in the room, making him nervous. He was okay until I got the needle out, and then he just-"
"Freaked out," Dean finished for him. "I get it. Start at the beginning. Four days ago, when I left for Sioux Falls."
"Okay. Well, Gabe started feeling sick a few hours after you left. He said it was nothing, and he'd just sleep it off, so we just left him alone for a while."
"When we checked on him in the morning," Cas continued, "he was quite feverish and in pain. We gave him Tylenol, but it did nothing to help. So we brought him to the urgent care center downtown."
"The doctor diagnosed it as a rare infection," Sam said, picking up the story again. "Unfortunately, this particular infection could only be cured with a series of injections."
"And therein lies our problem," Cas finished.
"Didn't you tell the doctor he had . . . issues with needles?" asked Dean.
"I tried," said Sam. "Without going into specifics, I mentioned his PTSD. The doctor offered to give him the treatment right there in the office. With him in restraints. I thought he'd be more comfortable with us, in familiar surroundings. I guess I was wrong."
"So now how the hell are we gonna do this?" Dean mused.
"I don't know," said Sam. "The moment he sees that needle, it's all over."
"So don't let him see it."
"How?"
"Sneak up on him."
"How the hell do we sneak up on an angel?"
"Distract him. If he doesn't expect it, he won't panic."
"Distract him? How do we do that?"
"Cas, can you talk to him?"
"About what?" the angel inquired.
"Anything. Your childhood, how you're gonna fix Heaven, ten things you hate about me, whatever. Get him engaged in the conversation. Once his attention's on you and not us, we'll sneak up from behind and whammo!" He thrust one hand forward in a stabbing motion.
Cas looked alarmed. "Don't hurt him! Any more than necessary, I mean."
"We won't," Sam assured him. "We'll make it quick."
"Okay." Dean looked at the two of them. "Let's go back in and do this."
They went in single file: Sam first, then Cas behind him, and then Dean. Just before they reached the bed, Sam passed the needle to Dean behind his back.
"Keep this out of sight," he whispered. "Don't let him see it."
Dean nodded and moved behind his brother. Cas came around so that he was in Gabriel's direct line of sight.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
Gabriel sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . freak out. I'm not thinking clearly-"
"It's all right. Gabriel, do you remember our first trip to New York?"
"Like it was yesterday." The archangel smiled wistfully. "Nineteen thirty-two. We rode all the rides at Coney Island. We had salt water taffy for the first time. I ate yours because you didn't like it. Then we rode the streetcars all day long. One to another, to another, to another . . ."
"You like New York?" Sam asked. He had shifted around to the far side, where he could watch Dean and give him the signal when the moment came. It wasn't quite time yet; Gabriel was nostalgic but not completely lost in his memories. Keep him talking a little while longer . . .
"Oh, yeah, I love New York," Gabe sighed. "I love it in the Thirties, I love it in the Fifties . . . I won a dance contest in the Seventies, did I ever tell you that?"
Dean was close enough now to feel the heat coming off him. Damn, the guy really was sick. He needed this injection sooner rather than later. But to tip his hand too soon would ruin the whole plan.
"Really?" Sam said, keeping his eyes on Dean. "Like Tony Manero?"
"Oh, Tony Manero had nothin' on me. I ruled that dance floor every Friday and Saturday night! I should show you my moves sometime, Samsquatch."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. He locked eyes with Dean and nodded once more. The moment had come.
Dean shifted the needle to his right hand and with his left hand, pulled Gabe's trousers and underpants down just far enough to get the needle all the way in. It was now or never. He inserted it into the exposed buttock and pressed the plunger.
"I was the man!" Gabriel, unaware of the impending violation to his nether regions, continued. "The king of Club Fifty-ThreEEEEAAAAOOOOWWWWWW! WHAT THE HELL?"
He turned around to see Dean hiding something behind his back.
"Sorry, man. We had to do it when you weren't looking."
Gabe struggled to regain control of himself. "If I still had my powers, you'd be a puddle on the floor right now!"
"If you still had your powers," Dean countered, "I wouldn't have had to give you the friggin' shot in the ass!"
"Dean," Sam warned him. "Your job is done here. Go wait out in the hall."
As Dean backed out of the room (to hide the needle, which was the whole point of giving him the shot in the ass), he saw Castiel helping his brother into bed. "You just rest for now," Cas said, pulling up the covers. "We'll be around if you need us."
"Gabe, I'm sorry," Sam said as he followed Cas out the door. "There really was no other way." He shut the door behind him.
Out in the hall, Dean pumped the fist that wasn't holding the needle. "All right! Mission accomplished! That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Cas and Sam were both looking at him strangely.
"What?"
"Dean," Sam began, "it's a series of injections."
"As in more than one?"
"Twice a day for three days."
Math wasn't Dean's best subject, but this was a simple problem. "Crap," he hissed as he realized, "we have to do this five more times?"
Cas nodded. "And we've lost the element of surprise. He'll be expecting it next time."
"When's the next dose due?"
"Eight to twelve hours," Sam told him.
"Well, that gives us plenty of time. Leave it to me. I'm the man with the plan. I am Plan Man." Dean gave them a reassuring grin. "We'll do this. Even if we have to tie him to the damn bed."
"Maybe his grace will recover enough that he can heal himself," Cas suggested.
Sam shook his head. "Maybe in a few days. Not in eight hours. And we won't be able to trick him the same way again."
"So we'll come up with a different way," said Dean. "Trust me. Even a trickster can be tricked. If you know how."
"Well, if anyone can trick the trickster," said Sam, "it's you."
"Exactly! I am the man!"
"Just don't ask him to show off his dance moves," said Cas. "That award he won was an Honorable Mention. But don't bring it up."
"Don't worry, Cas." Dean shook his head. "I can come up with a much better plan than a dance-off. Star-Lord ain't got nothin' on me."