Author's Note: This chapter... got away from me. Originally it was supposed to be nothing more than Sam being traumatized, Gabriel being a dick, name calling, swearing, and hot, angry monkey sex. It's what I had in my head but that is not what made it to my screen. In fact, this is so different than how I initially imagined this scene that I let this sit for thirty-six hours and even forced myself to write what I had initially planned. In the end though, I opted to for this version. This is where the characters drew me and this is where they apparently needed to go.

Let me know what you think!

Warning: Feels and smut.

Disclaimer:I don't own anything Supernatural. In fact, the more I delve into this world and characters the more I'm convinced that it's them taking me out to play and not the other way around.

SAM

Sam had been thirteen the first time he had walked in on his brother having sex and, looking back, it honestly surprised him that it hadn't happened earlier. It had been an emotionally scarring experience, especially since they'd been doing it on Sam's bed.

Oh, his little thirteen year old self had been so... naïve? Soft? Whatever he had been he had lost it quickly. By the time he was fourteen he was well versed in averting his eyes while yelling "Dude, gross!" Not that he'd had anything against his brother having sex but why did it always have to happen on his bed?

Of course, then he'd gone off to college and with the exception of the one time he'd had the misfortune of walking in on his roommate (thankfully not on his bed) he'd had an event free four years. And then Dean had broken in, dragging him back into the supernatural nightmare that was his life. After that it wasn't long before Sam was once more practicing the age old art of "duck head, avert eyes, mumble unheard apologies, and get the fuck away".

He had no desire to see his brother having sex. None. But he'd come to view such occasions as something good. After all if Dean had the time and inclination to sleep with someone then the world wasn't completely going to shit. The fact that his brother's sex life was the ruler by which he measured current events was fifty shades of fucked up that he wasn't touching with a ten foot pole.

Still, this was different.

Bleach, he thought as fled back down the corridor. I need to bleach out my eyes. Hell, I need to drill a hole in my head and just pour the stuff in… Nope. Bleach won't be enough, he decided. Maybe a melon baller – except that was too much of a chick thing and there was no way the Bunker's kitchen stocked it. Ice cream scoop? Maybe. Though Sam was willing to bet that he'd be able to do at least a half-assed job with an ordinary kitchen spoon.

Sam had realized early on that his brother had exhibitionist tendencies. It was the only plausible explanation. Dean was a lot smarter than he pretended to be and the man could sneak up on werewolves, ghosts, and demons. Finding an out of the way place to have sex shouldn't have been a problem. And yet it was. Thus, the only conclusion that Sam could draw was that his brother liked having an audience. Maybe not a full blown audience but an "Oh no baby, my brother might catch us! Ooops there he is!" sort of audience.

Whatever. If that was what made Dean's clock tick then more power to him.

But this was different. This was Cas. No. Not just "Cas" but Castiel: Angel of the Lord. Cas – I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition - tiel.

Sam was well aware of what his brother felt for the angel. Hell, everybody in existence knew how the angel and the hunter felt about each other. Well, everyone but the angel and the hunter themselves. So on one hand Sam wanted to punch the air and yell "FINALLY!" but on the other hand…

Bleach. Melon baller. Spoon. Whatever it took.

Because that hadn't been mere sex that he'd walked in on.

That had been something that, knowledge or not about the other men's feelings, he had never, ever been meant to see. It was too raw, too real, and too private. Dean may get off on other people watching but not this time. Not with Cas. The look he had given Sam had been all too clear on that. That look had told him that he had exactly half a second to turn around and leave or Dean would have clawed out Sam's eyes himself.

And, oh god, that didn't even address the issue of the noises that the pair had been making.

Bleach wasn't going to cut it.

What I need, Sam mused as he stumbled over to his half empty beer and desperately chugged, is something that can simultaneously burn out my eyes and kill the noise. Like an angel. In full glory. Screaming in my ear.

"Bad choice of words, Sam," he muttered to himself as he stumbled back to the fridge and frantically rooted around for another drink. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he just needed to get drop-down-I-might-actually-be-dead drunk.

"I suppose I could do that if you really wanted," a voice drawled sardonically, "but it seems like such a waste of your magnificent… mooseness."

"Son of a bitch," Sam swore after flinching hard enough to hit his head on the inside of the refrigerator. "What are you doing here, Gabriel? And what did we tell you about announcing yourself before you start parading around?"

Rubbing at his head with one hand, Sam slammed the fridge door with his foot and raised his beer to his lips as he turned around to glare at the archangel lounging in one of the wooden chairs, feet thrown up on the table's surface. Gabriel gave Sam one of his best bitch faces and rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is," he muttered, opening his arms and gesturing at himself. "This is me. Announcing myself. Honestly, Sammy-boy…for being the brains of the family sometimes you're a little slow. As to why I'm here… Well. I was out there, minding my own business, getting down with Lindsey Lohan – Lovely girl by the way. So misunderstood. Lots of fun. Lots and lots of fun…"

"You're a pig."

"Sticks and stones, Sam… sticks and stones..." Gabriel waggled his finger at Sam as he propped himself up against the wall of the kitchen and nursed his beer, still wary of drawing close to the Trickster. "Anway, so I was partying away, minding my own business when little Sammy Winchester's voice comes floating through the ether. Something about wanting an angel to burn out his eyes and break his ears and you know me… I just can't seem to pass up the opportunity to drop in on you boys."

"I think things may have just gotten worse," Sam muttered, directing his comments to the ceiling. Strike that, he added silently as a chorus of semi-muffled cries reached the kitchen. "Definitely worse," he sighed as Gabriel's head whipped around, a gleeful smirk spreading across his face.

"Sounds like somebody's getting lucky…"

"Yeah," Sam cut him off before he could continue with whatever else had popped into his head. "Our brothers." He took another large swig of beer. Stronger, I should have gone with something stronger. Dean's still got some whiskey around here somewhere…

"Our…" Gabriel's eyes widened comically as he looked back to Sam, feet hitting the floor with a thump. "Brothers?" Sam nodded. "You're… you're not playing with me are you? It's really Castiel and Dean… together?" Sam nodded again. "Well, I'll be damned," Gabriel murmured, gaze flickering back in the direction the noises – thankfully silenced – had come from. "They finally did it. Castiel finally gave Dean his flower. This… this is just… Oh my god, it's like Christmas. No, this is better than Christmas. Way better. This is…" he rubbed his hands together gleefully. A second later he froze, eyes going wide again and focusing in on Sam with an intensity that made him shiver. Sam silently groaned as he watched the archangel put the pieces together. "That's why you want to cause yourself damage. You walked in on them!"

The Trickster bounced to the balls of his feet and practically skipped around the table towards Sam, waving his arms and giggling in a way that could only be described as maniac. "Gabriel…" Sam pleaded, knocking his head against the wall. Maybe he could knock the images out or give himself a concussion. Amnesia… was it too much to hope for amnesia?

"Our. Brothers," Gabriel all but screamed, his face positively glowing, "bumping uglies. Doing the nasty. The ol' bump and grind. Hitting a home run. The lust and thrust. The horizontal mamba. Banging each other so damn har…"

"GABRIEL!"

The angel came to a halt in front of Sam, open hand outstretched to presumably smack an invisible ass. "Yes?" he asked mildly.

Sam inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, and exhaled to the count of ten. He would control himself. He would. The last thing Dean and Cas needed was to be irrupted. Because, let's face it, Dean would flat out kill him and then have Cas drag him back so he could do it all over again. "I'm trying to forget," he told the angel evenly, forcing his voice to come out calm. "Forget."

"No, no, no, no," Gabriel scolded, taking a step forward and shoving his finger into Sam's face. "No forgetting. Forgetting is not allowed until you give me details."

"Dude! Gross! Just…" he shoved past the angel and stalked over the table. He couldn't see the angel but he could feel the damn Trickster rolling his eyes and hear him huffing like disgruntled teenage girl. Sam raised his beer to his lips and swallowed. He really needed to find something stronger. Also, he needed to stop praying. He should just strike the world angel from his vocabulary.

"Sam, my man, you can't hold out on me. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this day?" Gabriel's voice drifted from behind him. "Dude, I've got to know. Did they actually…" Gabriel's boisterous laughter echoed around the room. "No, wait they made it to actually going the whole nine yards. If they hadn't you wouldn't be quite so traumatized. So I have to ask: was my uptight, straight-laced with a stick up his ass brother finally getting a stick up his ass or was your uber macho, alpha male brother finally taking it like a girl and begging for more?"

Sam threw his beer. He wasn't even aware of doing it until he heard the glass of the bottle shatter against the wall. "SHUT UP!" he roared, rounding on the angel and slamming the smaller being up into the kitchen wall with enough force to make the refrigerator rattle. "Just shut up, Gabriel," he growled in more moderate volume. "I know this is a perfect opportunity for you to mess with everyone's heads and just be an all-around dick but I'm begging… just don't."

The smile died from Gabriel's face, though the angel didn't bother snapping himself out from underneath the forearm Sam had pressed against his esophagus. Of course, Sam realized belatedly, it's not like he actually needs to breathe.

"Dude. It's just…"

"Don't," Sam growled again. "Don't you dare say 'It's just sex' because what I walked in on was about as far from 'just sex' as you can get. I'm warning you, Gabriel, don't mess with this. Dean doesn't even know what real happiness is, not really. He's always given everything away – sold it, traded it, used it for someone else. He's given everything of himself, body and soul, more than once. And he's…" Sam broke off and looked away, tears suddenly burning at his eyes. "He's finally started going somewhere with Cas." He let out a shaky breath and turned back to Gabriel, releasing him from where the angel was allowing Sam to pin him against the wall. "I just want my brother to be happy," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't fuck that up for him. Don't." Sam stumbled backwards until his legs hit a chair. He collapsed into it, shaking his head as a single tear managed to force its way out from between his eyelids. "He deserves this."

Sam dropped his head into his hands. He's happy for Dean, he really is. So goddamn happy that it hurts. At the same time though, he'd be lying his ass off if he said that there wasn't some dark little corner of his soul that was burning up with jealousy. He'd given up on ever having a normal life. Hell, he'd given up that dream the moment he'd looked up and realized that Jess was plastered to the ceiling. Still, he had hoped, that someday, somewhere this mess might all actually end and that he'd have someone looking at him the way Cas and Dean looked at each other when they thought no one was looking. (And son of a bitch wasn't that just going to get a thousand times worse now).

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I understand?" The soft voice that filled Sam's ears was so unlike everything he had ever heard come out of Gabriel's mouth that he had to force his head upward just to make sure it was still the angel speaking.

It was.

Gabriel's face was void of any of its usual levity as he tipped his head ever so slightly to look down at Sam. Some small corner of Sam's brain – the part that usually had to poke and prod and be a jerk – found it amusing that even with him sitting and the archangel standing their eyes were nearly level. "It's only been in the last handful of years that you've realized what Dean does, what he's been doing his entire life. You've only had to watch him with that knowledge weighing at your heart for half a decade and it's tearing you apart. Now," the angel turned his face away, unexpectedly gripping Sam's shoulder with enough force to bruise. "Imagine doing that for thousands upon thousands of years. Imagine being the older brother and watching your younger siblings zooming about with bright and shining faces, eyes so full of wonder and love. Imagine that there is one, one who shines even brighter than the rest and you say to yourself 'that kid is going places."

"Imagine that you come back after years away on assignment and find that, in your absence, all of that wonder and love and everything that made them all burn so bright is gone. They have been reduced to shadows of their former wonder. All their potential has been beaten down and locked up – left behind in the interest of forming soldiers. Imagine how that would take your breath away; how it would make you feel here," Gabriel's hand slipped from Sam's shoulder and trailed down across his throat and collarbone to rest over the steady thumping of his heart, "to watch that happen."

"Imagine that you tuned and left, left because the pain was too great, and you took to wandering the Earth. You partied, you pried. You messed with mortals and immortals alike. Anything to distract from the pain in your chest. Imagine thousands of years spent doing nothing but serving up just desserts – lifetimes of being a dick just to siphon some of the blackness of out of your chest."

Sam tipped his head back enough to stare at the archangel's face, stunned. Even with that gesture, Gabriel still refused to look at him. Instead, he remained focused on some distant corner of the kitchen, his jaw set in a straight line with a tightness around his eyes that Sam was all too familiar with. It was straight out of the "Dean Winchester School of Avoiding the Expression of Emotions".

The angel was struggling to not cry.

"And then one day," Gabriel continued roughly after a lengthy pause, "one day the cry goes out – "A Righteous Man sits in Hell" and you watch as all of your younger siblings lay siege to the Pit. For thirty years you watch as they fight and they burn and they bleed, clawing tooth and nail to break into the prison they normally kill to keep shut. You hear the roar from inside, the exalted cry and you know that the Righteous Man has broken and that so has the first seal. You watch as some of your siblings turn away. You watch as some continue fighting. And then ten years later you hear another cry – a thundering roar that spreads, echoing out to the dawn and the sunset of time, rippling through all that has been, is, and will be: "Dean Winchester is saved!" And you know, god help you, you know that it was him. The little one that you'd watched all those millennia ago. The one who had had shined so brightly, even amongst the others – so inquisitive and fierce and loyal and true."

Sam swallowed, raising a hand to dash away the tear trickling down his cheek. Gabriel shut his eyes and Sam could feel him trembling, the fingers pressed against his shirt shaking ever so slightly.

"Imagine that you see them side by side – human and angel – and my god how they burn! Together they burn so brightly, bright enough to light the world. Bright enough to burn away all the darkness. And in your heart you feel the lurch of hope, hope that someday you might see something other than the perfect soldier in your brother's face." Gabriel turned his gaze back to Sam, unable to hide the tears blurring his eyes or the small smile that plays across his lips. "Imagine that, Sam Winchester, and then try to tell me that I don't understand. That I don't fucking know."

Sam's eyes blurred again and he inhaled sharply, forcing the tears to retreat. His throat burned and he found himself swallowing convulsively around the lump that had formed there. He wasn't exactly Dr. Phil but he knew that this moment needed to be acknowledged, somehow, someway. Suddenly desperate to say something, anything, he forced himself to clear his throat. "Gabriel," he began, but the angel cut him off with a condescending pat to the cheek.

"Don't sweat it Sammy-boy," the angel drawled and kissed him.

Sam was ninety-eight percent sure that the angel did it to throw him off guard, to make him forget about the emotions and memories he had just trotted out. He could understand that. Gabriel wasn't one to show emotions. Hell, he didn't even know that Gabriel had them. Up until this point he had pegged the angel as nothing more than a gigantic dick – which he still was, but now he was something else, too. He was a brother: a brother who was happy and terrified and sad all in the same moment.

So Sam kissed him back.

Gabriel froze beneath the touch of Sam's lips, which edged Sam's surety of the archangel's original intentions up to a whopping ninety-nine percent. Sam couldn't help but smile, just a little, as he reached up and ran his fingers through the angel's hair. It was softer than he expected, like the down on a newly hatched chick.

The angel moaned softly at the touch, rocking back into Sam's fingertips. Sam obliged him, tightening his grip around Gabriel's hair until his nails grazed the skin stretched across the other man's skull. Gabriel steadied himself with a hand on Sam's shoulder, slipping his hand around to fist his fingers in the lengths of hair at the base of Sam's skull as he returned the kiss with a desperation that, on some level, didn't surprise Sam.

"Whoa, Winchester, I didn't know you swung that way," Gabriel murmured, finally breaking the kiss, presumably to allow Sam a chance to breathe. His head was swimming and he was seeing black spots but, damn, the kiss had been worth it. The powerful, demanding touch of the angel's lips against his had honestly made him forget that he needed oxygen to live.

"I could say the same of you," Sam managed to gasp in between his less than subtle attempts at getting air into a body that was realizing just how starved for oxygen it was.

Gabriel bitch faced him again, though really - from this proximity and angle – it was almost kind of cute. "Sam, I'm an archangel," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "It would take more paper than this earth could supply to list the things you don't know about me."

"Dick." Sam clenched the soft, worn fabric of the angel's fitted tee.

"Forceful, Sammy," Gabriel purred as he lowered his lips. "I like it."

Sam smiled at that thought and yanked the downwards on the angel's shirt, prompting a small yelp of surprise to spill from Gabriel's mouth as Sam pulled the smaller man down into his lap. Sam groaned as the muscled angles of the angel's body rubbed up against the aching erection currently trapped behind the zipper of his jeans. He hadn't even been aware of getting hard, but after a kiss good enough to make him forget breathing he wasn't exactly surprised.

He growled and wrapped his arms around the angel, grabbing onto the curves of Gabriel's ass and hauling him in closer. Closer. He had to get the god damn angel closer. Beneath his touch the angel turned into pliable, responsive putty. He flexed his fingers against Gabriel's ass and the angel untangled his legs, moving to straddle Sam. Both men sighed as Gabriel sank back down, this new angle aligning both of their erections and pressing them together, trapping them between the planes of their stomachs.

"Air," Sam gasped as his vision began to swim again. Gabriel backed off just enough to let him breathe and rolledhis hips. "Not helping," Sam managed to gasp out. Gabriel chuckled and settled into a delicious, torturous rhythm, snapping his groin up and down against the lap on which he was perched.

"Not trying to," drawled Gabriel as he mouths soft bites along the line of Sam's jaw. His fingers trailed to the center of Sam's chest and began to undo the buttons of his dirty plaid with quick, dexterous movements.

"Bastard."

"Jack ass."

Sam tipped his head back to give Gabriel easy access to his neck. The angel hummed in approval as Sam's hands kneaded at his jean-clad ass, fingers slipping beneath the cotton tee to stroke at the tender skin at the base of his spine. Not quite willing to have Gabriel stop working on his neck, each nip and press of the angel's teething forcing little breathy moans from his lips, Sam slowly raised the shirt upward until he reached the impasse of Gabriel's head.

Gabriel, at Sam's prodding, moved enough for the man to remove the angel's shirt, dropping his eyes to admire the lines of muscle. He could feel sweat beginning to bead underneath his own clothes and along the line of his lips. It's a sweat that has absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the bunker and everything to do with the half-naked angel in his arms who was watching Sam's stare with a heavy lidded gaze. Sam let a smile spread slowly across his face and casually licked the line of sweat from his upper lip in a long slow movement.

"Hope you got enough air," Gabriel groaned, toppling against his chest and catching Sam's face up between both of his hands. His lips are hot and demanding, firm against Sam's own until Sam draw's the angel's lower lip into his mouth, sucking it in and caressing it with teasing nips of his teeth. Gabriel gasped, mouth opening, and Sam takes control. Clutching at Gabriel with every ounce of strength he shoves his tongue into the angel's mouth, plundering it and tracing it until the archangel – God's most fearsome weapon – was mewling like a lost kitten at his mouth.

"Oh, balls."

The familiar sound of Bobby's cursing sounds around the room, shocking Sam out of his conquest. He blinked rapidly, feeling a crimson tide rise in his cheeks as he strains to pull himself together enough to… well… do something.

"Hey Bobby," Gabriel greeted, blinking slowly as he turns to face the older hunter. The archangel looks like sin itself with blushed skin, bright eyes, and swollen lips. And god help him, Sam wants to drag that face back around and kiss him until he begs. "As you can see we're busy, but seeing as its your house you're welcome to watch if you want."

"Gabriel!" Sam found his voice somewhere between his desire to reduce the angel into a quivering mass of need as he fucked him up against the wall and the sudden flash of alarm as the archangel's words sank in.

"Hell, no!" Bobby cried, already backing up. "You just… I'll just… Oh, fucking balls," he groaned, turning and disappearing back down the hall.

"Hmmm," Gabriel mused, turning back to Sam. "Guess no audience for us today."

"Good," Sam growled, pulling the angel in for another kiss.

"So, don't like an audience?" Gabriel managed to gasp out between a somewhat frantic resumption of their earlier activities.

Sam shook his head, unable to stop another growl from rumbling around his chest as Gabriel shoved his unbuttoned shirt off of his arms. "Don't like to share," he corrected, palming the angel's erection through the layers of fabric that still separated them. Gabriel groaned.

"Damn, Sam, the pretty things you say…" He hissed again. "I don't have time for this shit," he muttered, causing Sam to jerk beneath him.

"What?" He began to ask, confused, but then the angel snapped his fingers.

A chorus of appreciative groans filled the kitchen as the rest of their clothes vanished beneath the whispering touch of Gabriel's angel mojo. The moment their cocks rubbed up against each other, tips dripping pre-come, they both arched. Slowly, eyes on Gabriel, Sam reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand – blessing the size and reach of his grip – around both erections and pressed them together. "So hard," he grunted out as he flicked his thumb over both their heads and spread the dampness downward. "God, I want to taste you. I want to wrap my lips around you and feel you throbbing in my mouth. I want to hold you down and watch you bed. I want to lay you out on the table and fuck you until your eyes roll back in your head and you can't help but scream…" Gabriel's voice hitched in his chest, a whimper falling out of his lips as Sam punctuated every comment with another swipe of his thumb. "But I'll be honest Gabe," he continued, smiling as the archangel's eyes flickered open at the shortening of his name. "I'm not entirely sure I'll make it that far."

Both men groaned again as Gabriel's cock practically jumped.

"Apparently my momentary lack of stamina is inspiring?" Sam drawled, amused as he sucked on the decidedly delicious expanse of skin that stretched across the angel's collarbone.

The angel grunted in amusement. "No," he corrected, pulling back enough so that he could look Sam in his face. Sam swallowed and felt his own cock twitch beneath the twist of his hand at the sight of the angel's blown' pupils. "But the fact that you desire me that much?" He dropped his head back to curve of Sam's neck. "It's nice to be wanted for me," he whispered in Sam's ear. "Now," he added, his voice dropping an octave as he rolled his hips, "Move!"

Sam tightened his grip around their cocks and obliged, thrusting upwards in short, sharp, rolls of his hips. Gabriel groaned and matched him, grinding down at the apex of each thrust so that not only were they simultaneously fucking the tight hole of Sam's fist but each shift, each flutter of movement stroked their cocks together. It was agonizing and delicious, a slow build that slowly wound Sam tighter and tighter.

He tightened his grip and began moving it in short, quick pumps that traveled up their trusting shafts and twisted at the heads to rub against the sensitive glands.

"Fuck," Gabriel growled in his ear and smashed his lip's into Sam's.

They ate each other like they were starving, feeding from the other's mouths like it was the last scrap of substance in existence. Sam's hand between them kept moving, pattern of hip and hands growing erratic as he hovered at the edge. Black dots began to swim before his eyes but damn if he cared right now.

Gabriel stiffened suddenly in his lap, every muscle straining to attention as he came. The sensation of his come, hot and sticky, plastering itself against Sam's chest sent him over the edge, crying out into the angel's mouth.

When Sam was finally able to open his eyes it was to the realization that he had either passed out or the orgasm had been just that good. Or both, he thought wryly as he blinked slowly, trying to draw the kitchen ceiling into focus as he drew gasping breaths of air into his lungs. Gabriel had collapsed against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and face buried in the crook of his neck. Sam could feel his breath, erratic as his own, pushing at the length of his hair.

"You okay Sam?" the archangel asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," Sam panted. "Definitely."

"Good."

Despite the fact that Sam knew they should get up and cleanup he wrapped his arms around Gabriel and idly stroked the dips and lines of the angel's back. For a long moment the two men sat there, somehow supported only by a rickety kitchen chair, and held each other in silence.

Sam leaned his head against Gabriel's and pressed a kiss to the back of his head, shivering slightly at the brush of his down-soft hair.

And if Sam happened to notice the drop of hot liquid against his shoulder and the trail that it ran down his back he never did say.