Title: How to Lose a Drinking Game in Five Turns
Rating: Arrr for sexy times and grown up words
Genre and/or Pairing: Gabriel/Sam and some Castiel/Dean
Word Count: 1,728
Summary: Five vignettes on why it’s difficult and easy to love an Archangel.
A/N: Fluff and hilarity, that is all. Beta’ed by my husband because he’s cool like that.
Never have I ever trespassed in an abandoned building.
Sam is running down a hallway of a dilapidated hospital when he sees Dean and Gabriel running the other way.
“Plan B!” They both shout and Sam is practically swept off his feet by the pair as they rush past him.
“What’s plan B?”
“Burn it with fire!” Gabriel calls back as they pound down the stairs.
“He’s making sure they don’t go out the back.”
“I thought you said it was, and I quote, ‘like ten zombies’.”
“It was ten, and then it was like… ten times ten.”
“Did you know they were illegally burying bodies under the hospital?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The three burst out just as Castiel came pelting out around back and the four of them made it out to fall into a pile behind the car.
“Okay, does anyone want to explain to me why we had to run out of there like hell was in its basement?”
Dean huffed and nodded as Castiel frowned, “Gabriel deemed it necessary to…”
The angel was cut off by the mother of all explosions.
Sam blinked when the noise and rumbling was over, only to see that he was pressed up against the car, but underneath Gabriel. Dean was in a similar position with Castiel.
“Okay, I will admit that might have been just a little bit of overkill.”
Sam looked up at Gabe peering over the hood of the Impala.
“It’s a crater, isn’t it? There’s nothing left, is there? No evidence of who was controlling them. Gabriel!”
“Well find him! Her… Whatever… Meanwhile this is totally impressive.”
Sam frowned as they got to their feet and looked at the hospital, well, what was left of it. Just a little under half and that half was on fire.
Dean whistled, “Maybe we got lucky and the master was in there.”
Sam sighed and Castiel tilted his head.
“It does look rather nice with the sunset behind it.”
“See?” Gabriel threw an arm around Sam’s shoulders, “Win, win.”
Never have I ever stolen anything from an authority figure.
Sam’s been hung over before. He just isn’t sure he’s been this degree of hung over. After a quick inventory, he seemed to still be dressed, shoes were missing but that was an acceptable loss. His hair was still there, he didn’t feel any grievous injuries or things that might be tattoos.
All he remembers from last night is Gabriel walking into the bar after those giant miner/lumberjack idiots started heckling Castiel and calming everyone down by offering to buy.
Sam blinked as he rolled just a bit, oh God not too much, to see Gabriel sprawled out on top of him; totally and utterly out of it, and wearing a policeman’s helmet. Sam peered, there were hand cuffs dangling off the headboard and a flak jacket in a pile by the front door. What the hell…? He sat up with a wince, dislodging the archangel with a grunt and a hiss.
He felt like someone had been using his head for various full contact sports and his mouth tasted like burnt. He pulled a police baton out from under his ass and watched Gabriel curl up into a ball in the warm spot he’d left behind.
“Gabe,” he reached out and nudged the helmet off.
“Do. Not. Touch. Me.”
Oh wow, that was a new and frightening voice. It said a lot about Sam that he only smiled and lowered his voice.
“I thought angels didn’t get drunk.”
“We don’t, and as soon as I remember how not to, I won’t be. Shut. Up.”
Sam is sitting on the bed with the police helmet in his lap when Dean comes in bearing coffee and doughnuts.
“Honestly, I leave you three alone for one goddamn hour.”
“Three?” Sam blinks and then looks to where Dean gestured.
Castiel is in the bathtub, covered up with a jacket proudly proclaiming SWAT.
“You wouldn’t fucking believe me if I told you.”
Never have I ever cross dressed.
The story is that there was a bet with Gabriel, which Sam lost. Only technically they both lost the bet because Dean and Castiel were not ‘vanilla’ in bed. Neither were they… well, whatever the opposite of vanilla was. Sam said that meant they both won and Gabriel said that it meant Sam lost.
Either way Sam was sitting in a library waiting for Dean and Cas looking perfectly normal except for the fact that he was wearing women’s underwear. He was uncomfortable, mostly because the underwear was decidedly not uncomfortable. If he just kept reading he’d totally forget he was wearing them, which was dangerous and unacceptable.
“How long are we staying here?”
Sam blinked and looked at Gabriel, who was sprawled across the library table in front of him making a little folded paper llama.
“’Til I finish this chapter.”
“You said that forty-six minutes ago.”
Sam looked at the clock.
“This new chapter.”
“Liar, just forget you’re wearing them.”
Sam looked pointedly at the Archangel who grinned and rolled over onto his back, feet dangling off the table, a halo of paper animals around his head.
“I don’t see why I lost the bet.”
“I don’t see why you’re still trying to argue with me. Your brother is decidedly less kinky than you would have given him credit for. Therefore if we take into account the law of averages and…”
“Divide by zero or whatever. I know.”
Now Gabriel isn’t stupid, oh God no, he is entirely the magnificent opposite of stupid, and he knows that bitchface.
Sam frowns, and looks at his book, same chapter, same paragraph, different line and makes that completely unappealing you-will-not-get-laid-tonight bitchface. The situation has officially crossed a line.
Gabriel sighs and sits up, ignoring the few paper animals that flutter to freedom and plucks Sam’s book out of his hand. He slides himself off the table and into Sam’s lap with a boneless grace and leaves one long, warm, kiss under his human’s ear.
“You know, you never asked me if I was going to wear any.”
The noise of confusion is sweet and priceless but the next move trumps it.
Sam, probably after making sure no is looking, slides his hands down the back of Gabriel’s pants.
The Archangel has taught him well.
A moment passes in kissing and groping before Sam leans back, “Lace?”
Gabriel rolls his eyes, “This isn’t the kind of thing you half ass, Samuel.”
Never have I ever had a family member walk in on me during sex.
Sam knew that Gabriel knew that Dean was going to open the door a good couple of seconds before it happened. Of course that didn’t even make the Archangel hesitate from where he was currently riding Sam like a rodeo bull in the middle of torn sheets and a broken motel bed. (Gabriel fixed everything before they checked out. Jeeze.)
So Gabriel knew, but he didn’t do anything about it, so all Sam heard was Dean yell, “Jesus, fuck!” and Gabriel bellow, “Out!” the sound hovering right on the edge of his Voice.
Then the door slammed and Sam would have been angry or embarrassed but Gabriel had done this twisty sort of amazing thing with his hips and slid down Sam’s cock causing him to completely forget the incident until breakfast of the next day.
Which was not so… pleasant.
There was an argument; if the all out war that came after could be called that, Sam’s ears were already burning with awkwardness when the whole thing started and mid way through Castiel pulled him outside, so he didn’t hear a lot of it. He probably shouldn’t have run, but hiding out in the parking lot with Castiel was a lot more appealing than well… he didn’t know exactly what was worse. Dean going off on hanging a sock on the door and privacy rules or Gabriel who was more than happy to give his brother a play by play of why he was a big angel and could fuck who he wanted, whenever and wherever. Of course this all had to be laid out in the middle of a Coco’s in Des Moines.
It took them two hours and Sam was really surprised that the police hadn’t been called. They still don’t talk about it, though occasionally Gabriel will get this strange smirk going and Dean won’t look anyone in the eye.
In the end all Sam knew was that Dean started it and Gabriel ended it.
Never have I ever fallen in love.
It takes a minute for Sam to figure out what feels wrong.
The sun is barely thinking of rising and Bobby’s house was silent, almost.
He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, casting a glance at the empty bed before he made his way downstairs towards the barely there clinking of someone in the kitchen. Gabriel is sitting on the counter, scraping the bottom of a jar with a spoon.
The kitchen smells like strawberry jam and chocolate. Sam turns down the stove before the pot of milk on it boils over and stops to stand in front of Gabriel.
The Archangel ignores him in favor of the jam, frowning as he makes sure that there isn’t a single atom of the stuff left in the jar.
Sam lets the moment drag on, listening to Gabriel and the noises of the stove. There will be hot chocolate with bacon later and maple syrup, then probably the rest of the cool whip that’s in the fridge before Bobby chases the archangel out of his kitchen.
Gabriel puts down the jar, letting the spoon fall with a clatter and they stare at each other. Gabriel’s wearing a pair of flannel pants he ‘acquired’ from Dean, since Sam’s were far too big to manage and a t-shirt proclaiming, ‘Captain America Can’t Lose’ that Sam’s never seen before.
They stare, until there’s an almost imperceptible shift in Gabriel’s posture and Sam takes a step forward, letting Gabriel wind strong fingers into the waist of his pajama pants and pull him forward insistently, always insistently, like Sam is some ray of light that he’s caught and is determined to keep.
Gabriel tastes like warmth, and strawberry jam and the first crisp breeze of dawn.
- Current Location:Seattle
- Current Mood: nerdy
- Current Music:Faithless - Sun to Me (Faithless Dub)