The Eggpreg Crack Ficlet of What Was I On?
Title: The Eggpreg Crack Ficlet of What Was I On?
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sam/Gabriel
Spoilers/Warnings: mpreg, eggfic, crack, purple prose...
Summary: “You mean there are other guys out there who got pregnant with their archangel boyfriend’s egg-child and now suffer through embarrassing stints of overly public displays of affection?”
Notes: Um. Yeah. So, this came from a conglomeration of prompts from various people and written in about twenty minutes. IDEK.
“I love you with a passion that exceeds the fires of a million suns,” Sam said, kneeling in front of Gabriel with tears of joy running down his cheeks. “I could write sonnets to your eyes and odes to your mouth. And if you don’t make me stop spouting out how I love the way your fingers curl around mine while we lay in bed I’m going to kill myself and the kid and consider it a win.”
Gabriel sighed and snapped. “But I like you on your knees!” he pointed out. Sam glared and stood up carefully, wiping at the wetness on his face.
“And I like being on my knees on occasion,” Sam admitted, “but not because some cupid decided to shoot me with an arrow and force me to declare my undying love for you,” he continued before Gabriel’s triumphant smirk could grow very big.
The archangel rolled his eyes, but pushed the tall human over to the bed. “Like I don’t know,” he scoffed as Sam lowered himself to the soft surface. “You only think about it for hours on end.”
Sam glared. “I thought I told you to stay out of my head.”
“I do!” Gabriel protested, hands raised. “I can’t help hearing it when you metaphorically scream it in my metaphorical ear, though!”
The human sighed and lay back against the pillow. “Whatever. When is this kid going to get out of me, again?” he asked, hand splayed over his stomach.
Gabriel made a big show about checking his non-existent watch. “Oh, in approximately two months.”
“Right. Of course. Two more months of this. I hate cupids,” Sam muttered, closing his eyes.
Grinning, Gabriel scooted onto the bed. “I don’t think anyone really likes them, kiddo. It’s not just you.”
Sam cracked one eye open to look at him. “You mean there are other guys out there who got pregnant with their archangel boyfriend’s egg-child and now suffer through embarrassing stints of overly public displays of affection?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it like that…” he said. Sam huffed.
“That’s what I thought.”
They fell quiet for a few long moments before Sam said, “Huh.” Gabriel looked up at him, suspicious. Bound by his promise not to read his lover’s mind, he had no idea what Sam was thinking about, but that particular way of saying ‘huh’ had never worked out well for someone. Usually Dean, but in his absence, Gabriel wasn’t taking chances. Sam could get creative.
“What?”
“Hmm. Was just thinking.”
“About what?” Gabriel pressed.
“Is the kid going to have wings?” Sam asked. Gabriel blinked and then took a moment to consider that.
“I don’t know,” he admitted after a while. And then because things were getting a little too serious about what would happen in two months’ time, he snapped.
Sam opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at the balloon floating at the foot of the bed. “Happy conception?” he read. “That was the best you could do?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I wasn’t really trying. I did make it pink,” he said. The human nodded.
“True. Am I to expect a puppy and a three ring circus, too?”
“Nah,” Gabriel said flippantly. “Just the balloon. And the alimony checks.”
There was a moment of silence and Gabriel could practically feel the bitchface burning into the side of his skull.
“Alimony.” Uh-oh. That was the ‘it’s all fun and games until you cross the line and let me tell you, you crossed the link ten minutes ago and you are going to rue the day you were born when I catch up to you’ voice. It was slightly fascinating, actually, being on the receiving end of it. Very shiver-inducing.
“Er…”
“Alimony,” Sam said again. “You do realize, Gabriel, that for there to be alimony checks, there must be a divorce. And for there to be a divorce, there must be a marriage. And for there to be a marriage, there must be mutual consent and actual voiced intent. And let me tell you, Gabriel, that me being pregnant with your egg-child is not a stand in for voiced intent and mutual consent. So, explain this alimony.”
“Er…”
Gabriel cast about for some way to save the situation and snapped. Mindful of the way Sam was glaring at him from where he was reclined on the bed, the archangel slid off and knelt, holding out his hands.
“Samuel Winchester, I love you. Will you marry me and have my egg-child?” he said, expression serious.
Sam rolled his eyes and snatched the peach ring from Gabriel’s hands, popping it in his mouth. “Yeah,” he said around the candy. “I might as well. Just so long as you’re not marrying me just to divorce me.”
“Definitely not,” Gabriel said, climbing back onto the bed. “I need someone to have my egg-kids.”
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sam/Gabriel
Spoilers/Warnings: mpreg, eggfic, crack, purple prose...
Summary: “You mean there are other guys out there who got pregnant with their archangel boyfriend’s egg-child and now suffer through embarrassing stints of overly public displays of affection?”
Notes: Um. Yeah. So, this came from a conglomeration of prompts from various people and written in about twenty minutes. IDEK.
“I love you with a passion that exceeds the fires of a million suns,” Sam said, kneeling in front of Gabriel with tears of joy running down his cheeks. “I could write sonnets to your eyes and odes to your mouth. And if you don’t make me stop spouting out how I love the way your fingers curl around mine while we lay in bed I’m going to kill myself and the kid and consider it a win.”
Gabriel sighed and snapped. “But I like you on your knees!” he pointed out. Sam glared and stood up carefully, wiping at the wetness on his face.
“And I like being on my knees on occasion,” Sam admitted, “but not because some cupid decided to shoot me with an arrow and force me to declare my undying love for you,” he continued before Gabriel’s triumphant smirk could grow very big.
The archangel rolled his eyes, but pushed the tall human over to the bed. “Like I don’t know,” he scoffed as Sam lowered himself to the soft surface. “You only think about it for hours on end.”
Sam glared. “I thought I told you to stay out of my head.”
“I do!” Gabriel protested, hands raised. “I can’t help hearing it when you metaphorically scream it in my metaphorical ear, though!”
The human sighed and lay back against the pillow. “Whatever. When is this kid going to get out of me, again?” he asked, hand splayed over his stomach.
Gabriel made a big show about checking his non-existent watch. “Oh, in approximately two months.”
“Right. Of course. Two more months of this. I hate cupids,” Sam muttered, closing his eyes.
Grinning, Gabriel scooted onto the bed. “I don’t think anyone really likes them, kiddo. It’s not just you.”
Sam cracked one eye open to look at him. “You mean there are other guys out there who got pregnant with their archangel boyfriend’s egg-child and now suffer through embarrassing stints of overly public displays of affection?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it like that…” he said. Sam huffed.
“That’s what I thought.”
They fell quiet for a few long moments before Sam said, “Huh.” Gabriel looked up at him, suspicious. Bound by his promise not to read his lover’s mind, he had no idea what Sam was thinking about, but that particular way of saying ‘huh’ had never worked out well for someone. Usually Dean, but in his absence, Gabriel wasn’t taking chances. Sam could get creative.
“What?”
“Hmm. Was just thinking.”
“About what?” Gabriel pressed.
“Is the kid going to have wings?” Sam asked. Gabriel blinked and then took a moment to consider that.
“I don’t know,” he admitted after a while. And then because things were getting a little too serious about what would happen in two months’ time, he snapped.
Sam opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at the balloon floating at the foot of the bed. “Happy conception?” he read. “That was the best you could do?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I wasn’t really trying. I did make it pink,” he said. The human nodded.
“True. Am I to expect a puppy and a three ring circus, too?”
“Nah,” Gabriel said flippantly. “Just the balloon. And the alimony checks.”
There was a moment of silence and Gabriel could practically feel the bitchface burning into the side of his skull.
“Alimony.” Uh-oh. That was the ‘it’s all fun and games until you cross the line and let me tell you, you crossed the link ten minutes ago and you are going to rue the day you were born when I catch up to you’ voice. It was slightly fascinating, actually, being on the receiving end of it. Very shiver-inducing.
“Er…”
“Alimony,” Sam said again. “You do realize, Gabriel, that for there to be alimony checks, there must be a divorce. And for there to be a divorce, there must be a marriage. And for there to be a marriage, there must be mutual consent and actual voiced intent. And let me tell you, Gabriel, that me being pregnant with your egg-child is not a stand in for voiced intent and mutual consent. So, explain this alimony.”
“Er…”
Gabriel cast about for some way to save the situation and snapped. Mindful of the way Sam was glaring at him from where he was reclined on the bed, the archangel slid off and knelt, holding out his hands.
“Samuel Winchester, I love you. Will you marry me and have my egg-child?” he said, expression serious.
Sam rolled his eyes and snatched the peach ring from Gabriel’s hands, popping it in his mouth. “Yeah,” he said around the candy. “I might as well. Just so long as you’re not marrying me just to divorce me.”
“Definitely not,” Gabriel said, climbing back onto the bed. “I need someone to have my egg-kids.”