Mao Boy - Indochine
(Does it need to be translated?)
_ Guess it could have been worse.
Or maybe not, given the glare Dean was throwing in his direction.
_ You are an ass. You really had to say that?!
_ Do tell me you don't think the same! I dare you!
_ I do! Ok! I don't think he's gonna find your Father. I also think there was no need to crush Cass like you just did. He has fallen, lost his whole family, finding his Father was what makes him keep going on. I though you could relate!
From the corner of his eyes he could see Sam abort a gesture to calm down his brother.
_ I spent thirteen centuries trying to find him. In the end, it did much more harm than good.
Dean knew he wasn't exactly fair with the short angel, but for once that Castiel had stayed, he wished it had lasted longer. Plus, Gabriel had been unnecessarily harsh. On the other hand, the guy was looking so dejected, his ranting felt like kicking a puppy.
And, despite this, he was still there, in the backseat of their car, when he could have bailed long ago. That alone spoke volumes about how lonely he must have felt all those years.
_ Dean cut it. He knows.
Sam has tried for soft; it still earned him the same glare Gabriel got. Then raised innocent eyebrows, looking cute sometimes worked on Dean. But not today.
_ Please?
Dean rolled his eyes, huffed, then let go. Reluctantly.
Sam turned toward the back of the car, Gabriel was huddled against the door, pretending to be bored and looking out the window. It was disheartening.
_ Hey..." Sam started softly. "You OK?
_ No.
He didn't know what got his brother, the simple admission or the look that went with, or something else. He felt Sam squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, then next thing he knew, his giant oaf of a little brother had contorted himself to get backseat and gotten an armful of blond archangel in his lap.
All normal, just routine.
And that trip was starting to get on his nerves; he wished they were there yet. Maybe grab a beer, or something stronger, get some fresh air. The mismatched repairs he had been doing the last few weeks needed to be addressed properly.
It was still a strange sight: Sam holding the angel in his arms, rubbing his back in silence. Apparently, it didn't mean they weren't communicating somehow, only that he wasn't part of it. He wondered if Sam had the same soft, pained expression when holding him two nights ago.
Eyes on the road, Dean. It was not because Michael and Lucifer wouldn't let them die, or stay dead, he could let Baby get damaged.
Still, he wondered if the nutcrackers game hadn't impaired Sam's virility, bad blow in the balls could have sent his testosterone level down the sewer. That would explain a lot...
Or Sam had always been a hugger and had now decided to indulge himself.
He heard Gabriel mumble something, then.
_ That wasn't funny the first time, annoying the second, now this is getting old. I. Am. Not. Doing my brother.
Dean croaked a "What!", swallowed down the wrong way, then had to pull over: couldn't stop coughing.
_ Where the Hell did that come from!?
_ The Trickster being the Trickster?" supplied Sam tiredly.
_ Or Dean-o being jealous, you two sharing one bed since two nights, and being basically married?
Dean was at loss for words, that was so ...ridiculous. And oddly to the point, he was a bit jealous, they had slept together the last two nights, and... somehow, they were basically working like an old couple, minus the sex.
_ One, Dean is having nightmares, we finally found out that not being alone helps. Two, I hope you just mean that living in each other's pocket for years makes us look like some old married couple, the other option is way too disturbing. Three, that's ridiculous.
Gabriel frowned.
_ But... You said it yourself...
_ Yeah, and I said I was FBI agent tens of times. Didn't make me one.
Dean could see the perplexity on the angel's face, the way he opened his mouth as to refute that, then close it. In a second, he had a mocking sneer on his face.
_ Ok, ok, I get it, really touchy topic. I'll try to avoid it. Really Sammich, you should loosen-up a bit.
He poked Sam's cheek with a finger before flipping and seating comfy on his lap, leaning his back on Sam's chest. A snap later, he had again a book in hand. Sam kept the bitch face on for a while before relaxing a bit and moved his cuddler around to make himself more comfortable.
Apparently, he had bought the "joke" thing. Honestly, even if it was quite disturbing, Dean was more inclined to think that Gabriel had been truthful, one way or another. Besides, their lives were weird enough to allow that kind of craziness.
And, to be honest, Dean had been almost jealous. Or more like wishing he had someone to cuddle with too.
For a change, he searched for a soft rock station to tune on.
Sam was dozing, Gabriel was reading, Dean was... a bit bored: the road was quite dull in this area.
_ What you reading?
_ Still Supernatural.
_ That I could tell. When was that one?
_ When you were still two soft small cuties playing hunters with hope and faith in your eyes.
_ That's enlightening, thanks.
_ No need to be sarcastic Dean-o. It speaks of real estate manager wanting to build a new neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, killer insects, a creepy kid, and you slapping your brother's butt.
_ I see. I think Sam liked that kid. And it's been a while since someone last mistook us for some gay item.
_ Like last hour you mean?
Apparently, Sam wasn't really asleep, and still a bit edgy.
_ Stop bitching, or go back to sleep. It was embarrassing, but...you remember the lady who opened us with her speech of welcome? She was so sure we were a couple, I'm pretty certain that when we told her we were brothers, for a second she thought we were both brothers and screwing. Her face... that was priceless.
He chuckled lightly at the memory, Gabriel was right, they had been such babies at that time. It was comforting to remember that there had been a time when embarrassing people, or his little brother, had been fun. Even if it meant for once indulging people misconceptions about their relationship and butt slap Sammy.
Maybe someday, they might be able to come back to those easy banter and sly teasing.
_ You mind to make a stop? Need some stretching.
Dean agreed that he could use the stop too. Take a leak, grab a drink, and enjoy some fresh air. He pulled over near a cluster of trees, Baby was better off in the shade.
They barely had time to get out of the car, Gabriel was already belly-sprawled on the rooftop, a chocolate bar in hand. Dean did his business quickly and went back to the car, rummaging through the cooler: beer, beer and oh! more beer.
Usually, Dean wouldn't have thought twice about it.
Now, not that he had made the formal decision to stop drinking; he still felt a bit bad about drinking almost only booze. And Coffee.
_ Hey...
Something cold grazed his arm. A glass bottle of something pale and fizzy, no label he could recognize.
_ Thanks.
He grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, and tried: it was not as sweet as he expected, a tad salty even, and peach flavored. It was good, and refreshing. He would have offered a drink to Sam, but his brother has wandered away, stretching along the road.
_ You are taking it much more easily than him. Much more than I thought too, given how skittish you usually are about that kind of thing.
_ I have no idea what your are talking about. And no scratch on my Baby." He warned as Gabriel shifted to face him more easily.
_ Which one?" Gabriel batted his eyelashes.
_ Apparently, Sam is the kind to like being clawed at.
Gabriel whistled, but a glare from Dean got him to refrain from making assumptions about how he learned that one.
_ Does it mean I have your permission to court your husband?
_ Not husband.
_ Then what?
Dean leaned carefully on the car, hands in his jacket pockets, mulling it over and watching Sam come back to them.
_ Does it need a label?
_ I guess no.
There was some fondness in the angel's tone.
_ Besides, I think I'd love to tell your brother "hands off, that's mine".
Gabriel was still snickering when Sam closed in.
_ What's that?" Sam was pointing at the mostly emptied bottle.
_ Good stuff. Too bad, there is none left.
He emptied the bottle with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes and brushed past him to claim back his usual shotgun seat.
_ Nope." A raised eyebrow. "I'm toast, you drive the last leg.
_ Dude, we are half an hour from Bobby's. You exploded your record by the way.
_ You sure?" He had driven not more than 6 hours long.
_ That's Luverne over there.
That got Dean to perk up. Couldn't be: first he didn't drive faster than his usual, and they should have had to fuel at least once more before arriving; the tank was still a quarter full.
He looked up to the roof, to find it empty. The little fucker had already safely taken seat in the back of the car.
_ Real smooth Lo'.
It earned him an impish smile.
_ Mean?
_ Your Romeo cheated. Now move; you still get to drive.
Sam made no comment and scouted to the driver's side.
When they finally reached the familiar scrap-yard, they were immediately not-welcomed by Bobby's dog's barking. And a shotgun nuzzle aimed at them. Or maybe more precisely the backseat of the car.
_ Boys, looks like you've got some weird package there.
Sam should have bet that Dean would turn toward him, questioning why he hadn't add the recent events in his mailing to the old man. He would have won.
_ Didn't know we would have an archangel on our asses to make sure we do apply ourselves to find a solution to the Apocalypse.
That was a bit mean, he did know Gabriel was quite lonely. But he was a bit cranky: Gabriel had been so adamant that they would need to prove themselves to earn his help. And know he was there, all chummy. That didn't make much sense.
_ Gabriel, Bobby. Bobby, Gabriel, also known as Loki, the Trickster and many other names. Got the whole list in my wallet if you're curious about it.
_ I am. Not now. You mind if I test you all before letting you in?" The gruff man answered from his wheelchair. That wasn't really a question.
_ Actually, yes I do. I'm Sam, this is Dean, no shifter, no ghost nor demon inside, the tattoo's still holding." He showed his clavicle to make his point. "And no ghoul.
The gun didn't waver. He raised the hem of his brother's shirt to uncover his left hip. Got a yelp and a swat for that.
_ There, there was a scar. I was twelve and pissed at Dean, I threw an opened tin-can in his direction, hit him there.
_ What! That was deliberate? You said you misfired from the garbage can!
_ It was a misfire: I was aiming at your head.
_ Bitch!
_ No news there. Jerk.
He looked straight at Bobby.
_ We're we. That's all the proofs you'll get. And this is really Gabriel, the archangel, into his own brand of "witness protection". If you think we've been played, you can call Cass. Good to see you too, by the way.
And he went to retrieve their gears from the trunk.
Sam understood Bobby's paranoia that was what had kept him alive for so long. But he would really rather not watch another scar been made on Dean's arm, or whatever Bobby had in mind.
_ Good to see you boys." Was the somewhat hesitant reply. "Feathers." He added as greeting in Gabriel direction.
_ Last time I saw you, you were standing old man. Gone a bit lazy with age.
_ Shit happens." Bobby answered briefly before clearing the way for them to get in.
Once their stuff stored in the guest room, they found Bobby in the living room turned into library. He was keeping a watchful eye on Gabriel, currently sniffing around and admiring the impressive collection of ancient tomes he had.
He was about to enter when Dean grabbed him by the sleeve and led him toward the kitchen.
_ Need help with the cooking.
_ Dean... The only thing Bobby ever had in that kitchen is coffee and cans of tomato beans... Huh... why is that fun?
_ Nothing... I... I just remembered that was your first word. 'Bean'.
Sam's eyebrows shot up, trying to reach his elusive hairline.
_ My first word was about food? Isn't it supposed to be things like papa or mama or .. .else?
Dean smirked at him, while grabbing a grocery bag from under the table.
_ Where that comes from?
_ If someone asks you, you can tell you don't know. Get me the pan behind you.
Sam did as asked. Dean emptied a disposable box of fried rice and shrimps in the pan and added some oil. Then ordered Sam to get the cutlery out and dress the table.
_ When you were a baby, you didn't talk much, and had difficulties with some sounds. D's for example.
That made Sam stop dead in his tracks, gaping. It was... oddly embarrassing.
_ He never really said it, but I know dad had been afraid you would be a bit dimwitted for a while.
_ Why?
This was new.
_ Like I said, you didn't talk much, and was unresponsive most of the time. You could spend hours before the TV, on or off, and just do nothing besides staring ahead, as if we weren't there.
There was a silence, Sam still had the pitcher in hand, he finished filling it and put it on the table.
_ Now I wonder, maybe it was because you had too much things to deal with inside your head, you had no room to deal with the outside.
Sam nodded, not that he remembered that time, nonetheless, he was getting what Dean was implying. Out of the few children claimed by Azazel, Andie, and that girl who could kill with a single touch, were the only ones who hasn't ended up as killing monsters, whatever the feelings driving them. It wouldn't be that farfetched to think that part of Sam's perpetual anger was fueled by the blood in him.
He jumped when fingers snapped right under his nose.
_ Sam!
_ Yeah, I'm here.
_ Good. Go tell Bobby dinner's almost ready.
Another chapter with nothing in it.
The two were short, so quick update.
Next on Friday.