I don't own Supernatural, this was just an idea I had based off of a longer story I'm working on on-and-off. Review, but no haters, please?
I wasn't quite sure when our arrangement had changed.
(Alright, that was a lie- I remembered everything, that hadn't changed with my drastic descent of Grace to soul so long ago.
I could name multiple times it had shifted, gradually:
The first had been nine hundred-odd years ago, when some fool had tried to use me as a sacrifice to the pagan god Loki when my current body- at that time- was only six years old. The Archangel in disguise hadn't been pleased.
I could name the second, more drastic event:
In the 1700s, when everything was going to Hell in Britain and the nobles and civilians were raging and revolting, and my little band of street orphans was starving in the cold and the night- and he'd been there, with his Vessel shrunken down to our size, and he'd helped us through the tightest spots, made sure we kept our heads and most of our pride.
I could name hundreds of little things, big things.)
But it had changed, from him watching over me to make sure I didn't cause too much damage to Father's pretty little planet as a sort of wary watcher, to a closer brother or crazy uncle figure I could mostly rely on to help if something was going to throw shit in the fan. And then to a confidante, an absolutely insane friend and comrade closer than we'd even been before the Fall, before the War when we'd still been barely out of our fledging and our silver blades weren't stained red with the blood of our brothers and sisters.
And then, to something else.
(It'd been slow, yes, barely noticeable even to him at the beginning; the little flashes of heat, the way I'd maybe put a little extra emotion into my scoffs and snorts and broken, bland gazes- because time hurt, had more of an impact to a human than it did to one of what I used to be, and I'd changed more than I wanted to admit over the course of millennia of birth and death and repeatrepeateverysingledaylikeitsneweventhoughitsnot because it never ends, evereverever and I'm all alone, Father why couldn't you have left me in the Cage where things never change?- and he'd flash his bright copper-golden eyes toward me with something I didn't quite want to analyze when I scooted closer in the tunnels under the cities for warmth I couldn't create on my own anymore)
"Gab-ri-el-!" I panted out his name in harsh, staccato half-moans half-pleas, bracing my one free arm on the wall I was flattened to.
His grip on my right arm that he had twisted around up into the small of my back tightened and I forced myself up farther with a wince, arching my spine and choking back a full-throated wail of oh Father, why hadn't we been doing this since the start and fuck, harder please!
There was an agreeing, halfway-strained chuckle in my ear- jackass, he read my mind again- and I bit down on my lower lip hard when his grip on my currently-adolescent body was adjusted (petty things like societal rules didn't matter to us, and he'd fuck me whenever my body was strong enough to accept him, which if I had my way- and I usually did- was always around the ages of fourteen to eighteen. This body was barely a month from being seventeen, lithe and small and built for speed and agility, and I kept its muscles toned and its bones strong. Nothing compared to an Archangel's strength, of course, but at least he wouldn't break me so easily) and his hips drove up, deeper and more powerful in a way that wasn't fair at all, because Hell, that was sending sparks all over my eyes-
I came with a loud groan he silenced by twisting his hand in the roots of my hair and jerking my head around in an angle over my shoulder and crashing our mouths together, swallowing the sound.
(Hey, I couldn't help if I was loud; besides, Gabriel liked my voice- most did- and I'd been singing eons before Earth's construction had finished)
I slumped back against him as he continued the punishing pace, arm still trapped behind me as I struggled to keep a hold of my already tenuous sanity under the veritable onslaught of pleasure-
And then his hand slapped over my eyes and beautiful, glorious light lit up all the bones in his fingers through my eyelids, and I was writhing and moaning and begging for more in a way I'd always be embarrassed of later-
And then Gabriel's voice sent a tremble through the foundation of the stout, homely building my birth-mother and -father had chosen as our vacation spot (they were, luckily, kept asleep by a bare touch of my little brother's Grace), subvocal growl in Hebrew sending vibrations all through my shaking body-
"Hêlêl…"
Damn him-
I tensed, and tossed back my head in a wide, silent scream, his hand still covering my eyes as the light and buzz from his stretching True Form built up like ozone and power in the air. Incorporeal feathers brushed over every inch of my skin, and the howl ripped out of my throat as my muscles spasmed around him.
(Okay, I did know when our relationship changed. Sort of.
It wasn't exactly fast in the terms of humanity, just creeping and gradual and a sort of gentle transition.
Like when he'd torn some pedophile off of my five-year-old then-male body in an alleyway about seven decades ago and smote the bastard before picking me up, sticking a candy in my mouth- patronizing prick- and carried me back to my then-mother and then-father. Or when I'd run into him clubbing, and punched the black-haired skank he was with in the face.
I'd learned later that that had been Kali, and I'd earned myself an enemy. Gabriel was too busy laughing at the goddess's heavily bruised ego to give a shit about the other pagan's deep scowl and cloud of fire and rage that was nowhere near what even I could create with a few sigils and a pint of fresh blood.)
(It changed when I was eighteen during the 1980s and burning for a fight, and Gabriel'd been there, and he'd tossed me a copy of his Blade with a mischievous grin and let me work out all of my rage at the sight of the Vessels growing up on the road with their alcoholic father and their mother buried and dead years in the ground.
And when I'd had a split-second flare of what the Hell-ever, and yanked his smug, smirking head down by the collar as he pinned me to the shredded ground and crashed our mouths together, and he'd barely wasted a millisecond of shock before taking control and showing me what I'd missed all those centuries I'd tried to distance myself from what would be gone in a few decades anyway.
And when he'd growled, low and hot in my ear, "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're human, Luci," and I'd replied, breathless and rough and "Wouldn't ask you to, Gabri-" before being cut off by a pair of warm, strong lips.)
(So our arrangement changed into something different. Maybe something our brothers and sisters would look strangely upon once they found out- not that it was any of their business anyway.
But hey- he was Gabriel, the runaway youngest Archangel and the Lost Messenger and the pagan god of mischief and magic, Loki, and I was Lucifer, the Fallen Morningstar and the Lightbringer, God's Second Child of Heaven, and according to pop culture also the Devil, Satan, the ruler of Hell- like I wanted anything to do with that cesspit of smoke and better-forgotten memories I would never be able to fully lock away- so we'd never have been anything but 'something different'.
It wasn't like we were normal anyway, even from the very Beginning, right? And Father obviously didn't give a damn, because we were doing just fine.)
(It would change six years from now, too, after I'd been in a car accident when Gabriel was on the other side of the world on a favor for that bastard Odin, and my then-current body was only eleven when the Cage opened and all of the Grace, the beautiful Grace I'd been denied for millennia was set free.
And it changed when I Marked the Vessels, hiding them from the sight of Heaven and Hell, and revealed the Truth of all that was Wrong with the divine to darling Castiel's eyes, and he, righteously with all the innocence and justice of a true Angel and the power of an Arch, went to put things Right again.
Or, it changed when Gabriel had taken one look at my body as it leaked wisps of feathers and star-bright flares of Grace, and he'd made me age myself before taking me against a tree, and the ground and then a couple hours later again on a bed conjured out of necessity for our ruffled wings.
But we didn't know that yet, did we? Father was always the one with the ability to See beyond the present more than a few hours or days, and even the Archangels weren't allowed to meddle with Time more than a couple decades before their present time stream without severe consequences, like the splitting of the Universe or a scolding from Death.)