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The Impala roared down the freeway while Samuel Winchester was trying to sleep. Now that his dreams starring Lucifer were a thing of the past, Sam had rediscovered his love of sleep. Although he knew Gabriel would never admit it, Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Gabriel was pulling some archangel strings. He had been surprised that Gabriel actually agreed to help them in the fight against Lucifer, but Gabriel was getting in the habit of surprising him. Somehow he had ingratiated himself with Sam to a startling degree. As it turns out, it's really difficult to hate someone who helps out with cases, watches The Real World reruns with you, and generally has your back.
When he had first met the archangel Gabriel, he hadn’t been able to get how adorable the man had seemed. For fuck’s sake, he was practically fun sized. Besides, Sam always had a weakness for the short and mouthy type. He never wanted to examine why finding out the Trickster was a monster caused his heart to sink like it did. After the Mystery Spot Fiasco, as he was now calling it, Sam had packaged his worryingly soft cuddly emotions into a box and stuffed it into a corner of his mind. Unfortunately, those feelings had come back with a vengeance after Gabriel’s reappearance into his life.
The car goes over a bump in the road and Sam’s head hits the door with a thunk. He gives up on sleep with a groan and pushes himself upright. Dean is humming along with the radio. He is in an annoyingly good mood and Sam suddenly wants to punch him for it. At least when they’re both in the throes of angst there is no unnecessary whistling.
Sam clears his throat. “So where’s Cas?”
“Important Angel Business.” Dean stares over the steering wheel, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam can practically hear the capitalization. “He stopped by last night.”
Sam knows all about Dean’s secret meetings with Castiel in shady motel parking lots across the nation. He also knows that his brother’s relationship with the angel has been progressing with the speed of a particularly reluctant glacier. Gabriel helped him keep tabs on their sexually constipated brothers. He knew that asking Dean or Castiel directly would result in constant denials, followed by tortured looks across a motel room that Sam too would be occupying. Dutifully, Sam never brought up Dean’s maybe-maybe-not relationship with Cas – it was just asking for trouble and he wasn’t stupid. Besides, what else can you say to a man who has been inside the closet so long that R. Kelly wanted to write a song about him?
As the station blasting faded into static, Dean spun the radio dial.
Static.
Ad.
Static.
Ad.
I never meant to be so bad to you.
Sam immediately tenses in his seat and looks furiously out the window. Listening to Asia somehow always slammed his mind straight back to Gabriel and what he had done. Yes, he was mostly over the betrayal of the Trickster fucking with him, but you don’t get over the repeating deaths of your brother so easily.
“Aw, come on man. Don’t do this shit again – I love Asia.” Dean whined.
“You didn’t have to remember your death three hundred times over, Dean! You have no idea what it was like waking up to this song every day for months.”
A mischievous grin snakes its way across Dean’s face. “So I was thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous.” Sam snarks.
“Don’t be a bitch.” Dean punches his shoulder, eyes still focused forward. “So the little weirdo set up every part of our day, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So that means he picked the song too, right?”
“Yeah, it’s something he would do. I got to know him pretty well.” A muscle in Sam’s jaw tightens.
“He never did anything without a reason. What if he was trying to tell you something?” Dean presses.
“Like what?”
“Like why he did what he did.”
“We already know that. He told us, remember?” Sam turned obstinately out the window. “He was being a tool. That’s who he is. He even admitted it earlier – I have proof.”
Sam waves his phone in Dean’s face. In his last text conversation with the angel, Gabriel had practically spelled it out.
“I mean yeah, but I think it’s something else. Cas said something interesting,” Dean begins carefully, “Like you know this song is a love song, right? He’s practically saying he’s doing this for you. A look from you and I would fall from grace? I mean, are you kiddin’ me? He’s practically broadcasting it.”
“Fuck off.” Sam says automatically.
“Dude, I’m serious. I think the little guy has a thing for you.” Dean never knew when to stop.
“Man, just because you and Cas want to, like, buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence doesn’t mean that I need my own pet angel.” Sam snaps, but immediately regrets it. He watches Dean carefully, whose expression does not shift from mild amusement. Sam allows himself an internal sigh of relief.
“Uh huh, tell me this Romeo. Do you have a way of getting to Gabriel?” Dean asks, eyeing Sam.
Sam can’t help but recall the previous night when he had prayed to Gabriel to hang out. The angel was surprisingly good company, always joking and keeping Sam’s thoughts from spiraling dangerously.
“I knew it!” Dean crows, pounding the wheel in success. “Call your loverboy!”
“What are we – teenage girls?” Sam demands.
The car lapses into companionable silence for the rest of the evening. Sam is thankful Dean let the subject drop without too much hassle, but not before opening a nasty can of worms.
In the motel for the night, Sam lay back on the uncomfortable bed. Maybe it was time to start making decisions for himself – but could he be that presumptuous? To think that an archangel, the messenger of God no less, would be interested in an abomination?
Sam had always had a rebellious streak. It’s what drove him to question his father while Dean had only obeyed, it’s what drove him to Stanford, and it was what kept him questioning destiny. The rebellious streak spoke up. Fuck it.
He prays to the archangel Gabriel, messenger, moron, and midget to come to him. Silence. Sam hopes he hasn’t made a monumental mistake. He gets up and begins to pace the breadth of the small room.
In a whoosh of feathers, Gabriel appears 3 feet above the bed and lets himself fall onto it. “No thanks for the call, gramps. We have these space-age things called phones these days.”
Sam can’t help but smile. “Thought I’d kick it old school.”
“So why the collect call, Moose? More MTV? I knew you’d get hooked.”
Sam is too embarrassed to look at Gabriel directly. He can see a familiar canvas jacket out of the corner of his eye. “Did you do all of the dickish things with us for me? The Mystery Spot – the TV Land nightmare?” He blurts.
Gabriel shifts uncomfortably. “Why d’ya think that, Colossus?”
“The song. That song.”
“Aw, Sammy baby, are you gonna do our horoscopes next?” Gabriel teases, trying to change the subject desperately.
Sam, frustrated, strides to the bed and yanks the Gabriel to his feet. “Come on, seriously.”
Gabriel looks at the ground and scuffs his shoe against it. “It wouldn’t matter either way, right?”
“Why can’t you just tell me?”
Gabriel gives him an indecipherable look. Sam’s mind races. He needs to stop this. Gabriel is obviously not interested and now he’s embarrassed at the sheer effrontery that he had. How dare he think that he would be worth an archangel’s time?
“Stop!” Gabriel suddenly erupts, stepping closer. “You’re a goddamn miracle, you know that?”
Sam is shocked silent as Gabriel continues. “You get every shitty thing on the planet thrown in your face and somehow you have the fucking fortitude to keep going and doing what’s right.”
Sam looks utterly bewildered. It always unnerves him when angels exercise their mind-reading abilities.
“And you know what else, Captain America?” Gabriel is ranting now, pacing around the hunter. “You know what’s the cherry on this craptastic sundae we’ve got going here? You have no fucking idea how fucking beautiful you are. And I don’t mean the Mr. Universe meat suit you’re wearing. I mean your soul, Winchester. I saw it the second I first saw you. You have the kind of soul that–“ Gabriel pauses to gesture wildly, “…and you kept showing up! How could I not fall in love with that big puppy-dog mug of yours? I will shred the goddamn planet to keep you alive. That’s why I iced Dean and that’s why I gave you herpes!”
Gabriel looks so pissed that Sam has to check. “You love me?”
“No shit Sherlock!”
Oh.
“Hey Gabe?” Sam asks, waiting for the angel to turn to him. When Gabriel finally looks around, frowning upwards, Sam crowds him into the wall. Threading his hands through Gabriel’s impossibly soft hair, he kisses the angel thoroughly.
Gabriel stands stock still, and just before Sam’s heart sinks again, moves all at once. He responds enthusiastically, weaving his arms around Sam’s neck. Gabriel wraps his legs around Sam’s waist as Sam holds him against the wall. Gabriel is rewarded with a deep groan, which he swallows with kiss. Sam lowers his mouth to Gabriel’s neck and nips lightly. Gabriel’s responding mewl goes straight to his cock. Sam ruts against Gabriel, moaning in appreciation.
“Hey Sammy, I got food and- “ Dean enters the room talking. It’s not until he’s inside that he sees his younger brother and the archangel of guidance against the wall of their cheap motel. “Oh holy shit! Dude – a little warning!”
Sam buries his beetroot face in Gabriel’s shoulder.
Dean is out the door in a split second and yells through it. “I call best man!”
“Hey Samsquatch.” Sam flinches as he gets flicked in the ear. He slowly realizes that Gabriel is still in his arms and pulls back. The fucker’s eyes are the colour of honey and caramel. That just wasn’t playing fair.
Gabriel leers back unabashedly, Dean already long forgotten.
“You drive me crazy, Gabe.”
“I want to drive you crazy forever.” Gabriel looks at Sam through his eyelashes. “I’ll let Chuckles be best man if Cassie can be the flower girl. You in, Gorgeous?”
“Hells yeah.”