Comment Fic Again (I need to start numbering these)
Trying out a new way of doing these things. They're all written for comment_fic.
Unlikely
(Sam/Gabriel/Lucifer/Michael, PG)
Lucifer’s still around because God decided he needed a crash course in the many ways humans were awesome.
Michael apparently needed the same thing, but he also needed to learn how to loosen up and let his metaphorical hair down.
Gabriel got resurrected and assigned the task of making sure Lucifer and Michael passed the course in humanity.
And somehow, all three ended up in Sam’s bed.
Sam’s still not sure how that happened, since one minute he’s opening the door to see three archangels (one formerly dead) and the next he’s waking up with unearthly warmth on all sides.
Not that he’s complaining, of course.
It’s just…odd. Michael and Lucifer have a tendency to skip morning pleasantries and go straight for the jugular over the slightest provocation. Gabriel hogs the sheets and cleans the house out of anything remotely sweet every two days or so. Sam sometimes feels like he’s the tenuous middle ground that happens to be the only place in creation that all three can stand on at once and not kill each other over.
They’re an unlikely group (something Dean tells him as often as possible. ‘Sammy, why do you keep attracting the weirdos?’), but somehow they make it work.
Plus, the sex is awesome.
~*~
Just Your Usual Evil Household Appliances
(Lucifer and Michael, G)
“Michael, the toaster is evil!”
Michael looks up from the paper (there was a very nicely written article written about the charity fair next week on page three) and sighs. “Luc, it’s not evil. It’s a machine and thus has no soul. It can’t be evil.”
“But it is!” his brother insists. Rolling his eyes, Michael puts the paper aside and gets up, leaning in the entryway to the kitchen. Lucifer’s glaring at the offending piece of technology, bread in one hand and the other pointing accusingly at the innocent-looking toaster.
“How is it evil?” Michael asks, wondering if he’s going to have to go through this process with every piece of technology in the house. First the espresso machine, then the washer and dryer, now the toaster. What’s next? The DVD player?
Lucifer full-on pouts and Michael has a moment to wonder if his brother’s been getting pointers from Castiel before he’s being treated to a diatribe of just why the toaster is evil. Most of it he doesn’t bother listening to; he’d tried that with the espresso machine and had learned that it only resulted in him needing to take four times the recommended amount of painkillers to help with the headache he’d developed. So, he lets the words wash over him, in one ear and out the other, paying only enough attention to catch the important bits.
“…regardless of what I do and then it…doesn’t matter what setting, it always turns out either black or nothing…I don’t like it black, unlike Raphael…just me, doesn’t do it to you…even Castiel gets perfect toast out of it and he can’t work the sink half the time…and you need to do something about it!” Lucifer accompanies these last words with a childish stomp of his left foot and Michael has to fight back the snort of laughter the action prompts.
Taking a deep breath, he gently pushes his younger brother to the side and out of his way. “First off, have you been trying to use any mojo when you use it?” He’d been spending way too much time with the Winchesters, he thought as he realized what he’d just said. Oh, well.
Lucifer thought about it. “Uhm…maybe?”
Sighing, Michael unplugs the toaster. “Well, don’t. Just let the toaster do what it does, don’t try to help it along. And how about I just make all the toast from now on, okay?”
Lucifer considers the bread still in his hand, then holds it out to Michael. “Okay. And, um, Michael?”
“Yes, Luc?” he responds, taking the bread and slipping it back into the sleeve.
“I’m thinking I might have accidentally done the same thing with the microwave. Except it’s not actually working anymore. At all, that is.”
Michael blinks at his brother, who looks kinda nervous and sheepish, then at the microwave, which doesn’t look any different than it had this morning when he’d used it to heat up the tortillas for breakfast burritos. And he sighs again.
“What did you do?” he asks.
~*~
Turnabout
(Sam/Gabriel, PG)
Gabriel rubbed at his shoulder, unable to reach around far enough to really get at his shoulder blade, where the burn made his skin feel too tight. Stupid freaking angels and their stupid freaking ways of helping that really didn’t look like helping from a mortal point of view.
Yeah, sure, the celestial Sasquatch had saved him from being the not-so-virgin sacrifice to a small-woods pagan god and the holy dickwad had given him a guarantee of no more sacrifices ever, virgin or otherwise, but still.
The hand print was going to hurt like a bitch until it healed. And it was going to leave a rather unique scar.
----
Samuel watched the hunter leave, grumbling to himself and rubbing at his shoulder. The brand hadn’t really been necessary, not for stopping this and any future sacrifices, but Sam hadn’t been able to help himself.
Yes, he was perfectly aware that he was becoming rather too interested in the life of this particular hunter. Yes, he knew that the other angels were going to be confused and scornful that he’d chosen to do this for no real reason. Yes, he realized that this whole thing was probably completely hopeless from the start.
The thing was: he just didn’t care.
----
Six months later, Gabriel sees the angel again (really, couldn’t forget a guy who stood head and shoulders over nearly everyone and had a mop of messy brown hair over eyes to rival any puppy’s) and he’s not sure who’s more surprised, the angel or him, when he skips bitching the angel out for a month of pain and irritation and goes straight to asking if there’s anything else he needs to know about the demon he’s currently tracking.
Sam blinks, gives the hunter a slow smile and sticks around long enough to help with the demon, let Gabriel confirm that the handprint scar on his back really was the angelic version of a hickey (to put it in crude terms; Sam would have described it a bit more like a mark of intention) and to arrange a sort of visitation schedule.
He leaves Gabriel touching his lips lightly and can’t help but wonder how he’ll be received when he returns next month.
~*~
Phenomenal Cosmic Powers...
(Sam, Gabriel, Dean, PG)
Sam watches the DVD again later that night, while Dean’s outside talking to Kali about something or other.
Or rather, he intends to watch the DVD again. He doesn’t ever quite get around to actually watching it.
Having a dead archangel fall out of the DVD case will do that.
Surprised, for a long moment, all he can do is blink down at the smaller man sprawled on the floor. Then honey eyes blink up at him and a familiar grin flashes as Gabriel sits up.
“Heya, Sammy. Thanks for rubbing the magic lamp.”
“What?” Sam says and he’s vaguely surprised he managed that much. Gabriel grins again, bouncing up onto his feet.
“Rubbing the magic lamp,” he repeats. Pauses for something, raises an eyebrow when Sam says and does nothing. “You’ve never seen Aladdin?”
“No,” the hunter tells him. “You fell out of the DVD case.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. That’s the trouble with tricks like that. One tends to end up a bit like the genie from Aladdin. Phenomenal cosmic powers-itty bitty living space.”
“You’re not a genie.”
“Give the man a prize.” Gabriel pulls the (empty) DVD case out of Sam’s hands, tosses it over a shoulder and pushes Sam down into one of the chairs. “Look, Sasquatch. I tricked big brother Luci. I hid myself, my essential-” he waved a hand around, wiggling the fingers “-mojo, if you will, in that DVD case. All I needed to get out was for someone to open it and think happy thoughts.”
Sam’s starting to catch up with everything and frowns slightly. “That’s Peter Pan.”
For a second, Gabriel’s confused. Then he sighs. “Okay. We’ll try an in-depth discussion of how it all works later. For now, let’s just accept the fact that I’m alive and go from there, alright?”
“Okay,” Sam says. “You’re alive. Should I go tell Dean or do you want to tell him yourself?”
The archangel shrugs. “Whichever you’d-”
The motel room door bangs open and Dean stops halfway through, eyes wide. “You’re alive,” he says.
Gabriel rubs at his temple. “This is going to take a while,” he mutters.
~*~
The Winchesters Were Here
(Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel, random people, G)
When things clarify again, Sam's wrapped around Gabriel and Dean's got his hands firmly wrapped around Castiel's shoulders. Both are glaring at their respective angels.
"Dude, seriously? Seriously. I don't like traveling Angel Air," Dean complained, relucantly taking his hands off of Castiel as he registered the distinct lack of further movement.
Sam didn't say anything, but carefully arranged his expression into the perfect mix of disappointment and frustration that he then aimed at Gabriel.
Castiel at least had the decency to look slightly abashed; Gabriel just grinned.
"Come on, boys, where's your sense of adventure? Whole new worlds at your fingertips!" He spread his arms out and Sam and Dean finally took a good look at where on Earth they were.
Or rather, where on Earth they weren't.
"Are we...are we on Mars?"
--------
Sixteen years later, the first spaceship manned by humans landed on the surface of the red planet. There was lots of pomp and circumstance and planting of the flag and many photos taken and video shot and it was all pretty much good up until the geologist took a closer look at a large rock nearby.
"Uh, sir?" he called out. The captain trudged up behind him.
"What is is, Doc?" The geologist pointed at the carvings, not needing to say anything more.
The Winchesters were here.
Unlikely
(Sam/Gabriel/Lucifer/Michael, PG)
Lucifer’s still around because God decided he needed a crash course in the many ways humans were awesome.
Michael apparently needed the same thing, but he also needed to learn how to loosen up and let his metaphorical hair down.
Gabriel got resurrected and assigned the task of making sure Lucifer and Michael passed the course in humanity.
And somehow, all three ended up in Sam’s bed.
Sam’s still not sure how that happened, since one minute he’s opening the door to see three archangels (one formerly dead) and the next he’s waking up with unearthly warmth on all sides.
Not that he’s complaining, of course.
It’s just…odd. Michael and Lucifer have a tendency to skip morning pleasantries and go straight for the jugular over the slightest provocation. Gabriel hogs the sheets and cleans the house out of anything remotely sweet every two days or so. Sam sometimes feels like he’s the tenuous middle ground that happens to be the only place in creation that all three can stand on at once and not kill each other over.
They’re an unlikely group (something Dean tells him as often as possible. ‘Sammy, why do you keep attracting the weirdos?’), but somehow they make it work.
Plus, the sex is awesome.
~*~
Just Your Usual Evil Household Appliances
(Lucifer and Michael, G)
“Michael, the toaster is evil!”
Michael looks up from the paper (there was a very nicely written article written about the charity fair next week on page three) and sighs. “Luc, it’s not evil. It’s a machine and thus has no soul. It can’t be evil.”
“But it is!” his brother insists. Rolling his eyes, Michael puts the paper aside and gets up, leaning in the entryway to the kitchen. Lucifer’s glaring at the offending piece of technology, bread in one hand and the other pointing accusingly at the innocent-looking toaster.
“How is it evil?” Michael asks, wondering if he’s going to have to go through this process with every piece of technology in the house. First the espresso machine, then the washer and dryer, now the toaster. What’s next? The DVD player?
Lucifer full-on pouts and Michael has a moment to wonder if his brother’s been getting pointers from Castiel before he’s being treated to a diatribe of just why the toaster is evil. Most of it he doesn’t bother listening to; he’d tried that with the espresso machine and had learned that it only resulted in him needing to take four times the recommended amount of painkillers to help with the headache he’d developed. So, he lets the words wash over him, in one ear and out the other, paying only enough attention to catch the important bits.
“…regardless of what I do and then it…doesn’t matter what setting, it always turns out either black or nothing…I don’t like it black, unlike Raphael…just me, doesn’t do it to you…even Castiel gets perfect toast out of it and he can’t work the sink half the time…and you need to do something about it!” Lucifer accompanies these last words with a childish stomp of his left foot and Michael has to fight back the snort of laughter the action prompts.
Taking a deep breath, he gently pushes his younger brother to the side and out of his way. “First off, have you been trying to use any mojo when you use it?” He’d been spending way too much time with the Winchesters, he thought as he realized what he’d just said. Oh, well.
Lucifer thought about it. “Uhm…maybe?”
Sighing, Michael unplugs the toaster. “Well, don’t. Just let the toaster do what it does, don’t try to help it along. And how about I just make all the toast from now on, okay?”
Lucifer considers the bread still in his hand, then holds it out to Michael. “Okay. And, um, Michael?”
“Yes, Luc?” he responds, taking the bread and slipping it back into the sleeve.
“I’m thinking I might have accidentally done the same thing with the microwave. Except it’s not actually working anymore. At all, that is.”
Michael blinks at his brother, who looks kinda nervous and sheepish, then at the microwave, which doesn’t look any different than it had this morning when he’d used it to heat up the tortillas for breakfast burritos. And he sighs again.
“What did you do?” he asks.
~*~
Turnabout
(Sam/Gabriel, PG)
Gabriel rubbed at his shoulder, unable to reach around far enough to really get at his shoulder blade, where the burn made his skin feel too tight. Stupid freaking angels and their stupid freaking ways of helping that really didn’t look like helping from a mortal point of view.
Yeah, sure, the celestial Sasquatch had saved him from being the not-so-virgin sacrifice to a small-woods pagan god and the holy dickwad had given him a guarantee of no more sacrifices ever, virgin or otherwise, but still.
The hand print was going to hurt like a bitch until it healed. And it was going to leave a rather unique scar.
----
Samuel watched the hunter leave, grumbling to himself and rubbing at his shoulder. The brand hadn’t really been necessary, not for stopping this and any future sacrifices, but Sam hadn’t been able to help himself.
Yes, he was perfectly aware that he was becoming rather too interested in the life of this particular hunter. Yes, he knew that the other angels were going to be confused and scornful that he’d chosen to do this for no real reason. Yes, he realized that this whole thing was probably completely hopeless from the start.
The thing was: he just didn’t care.
----
Six months later, Gabriel sees the angel again (really, couldn’t forget a guy who stood head and shoulders over nearly everyone and had a mop of messy brown hair over eyes to rival any puppy’s) and he’s not sure who’s more surprised, the angel or him, when he skips bitching the angel out for a month of pain and irritation and goes straight to asking if there’s anything else he needs to know about the demon he’s currently tracking.
Sam blinks, gives the hunter a slow smile and sticks around long enough to help with the demon, let Gabriel confirm that the handprint scar on his back really was the angelic version of a hickey (to put it in crude terms; Sam would have described it a bit more like a mark of intention) and to arrange a sort of visitation schedule.
He leaves Gabriel touching his lips lightly and can’t help but wonder how he’ll be received when he returns next month.
~*~
Phenomenal Cosmic Powers...
(Sam, Gabriel, Dean, PG)
Sam watches the DVD again later that night, while Dean’s outside talking to Kali about something or other.
Or rather, he intends to watch the DVD again. He doesn’t ever quite get around to actually watching it.
Having a dead archangel fall out of the DVD case will do that.
Surprised, for a long moment, all he can do is blink down at the smaller man sprawled on the floor. Then honey eyes blink up at him and a familiar grin flashes as Gabriel sits up.
“Heya, Sammy. Thanks for rubbing the magic lamp.”
“What?” Sam says and he’s vaguely surprised he managed that much. Gabriel grins again, bouncing up onto his feet.
“Rubbing the magic lamp,” he repeats. Pauses for something, raises an eyebrow when Sam says and does nothing. “You’ve never seen Aladdin?”
“No,” the hunter tells him. “You fell out of the DVD case.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. That’s the trouble with tricks like that. One tends to end up a bit like the genie from Aladdin. Phenomenal cosmic powers-itty bitty living space.”
“You’re not a genie.”
“Give the man a prize.” Gabriel pulls the (empty) DVD case out of Sam’s hands, tosses it over a shoulder and pushes Sam down into one of the chairs. “Look, Sasquatch. I tricked big brother Luci. I hid myself, my essential-” he waved a hand around, wiggling the fingers “-mojo, if you will, in that DVD case. All I needed to get out was for someone to open it and think happy thoughts.”
Sam’s starting to catch up with everything and frowns slightly. “That’s Peter Pan.”
For a second, Gabriel’s confused. Then he sighs. “Okay. We’ll try an in-depth discussion of how it all works later. For now, let’s just accept the fact that I’m alive and go from there, alright?”
“Okay,” Sam says. “You’re alive. Should I go tell Dean or do you want to tell him yourself?”
The archangel shrugs. “Whichever you’d-”
The motel room door bangs open and Dean stops halfway through, eyes wide. “You’re alive,” he says.
Gabriel rubs at his temple. “This is going to take a while,” he mutters.
~*~
The Winchesters Were Here
(Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel, random people, G)
When things clarify again, Sam's wrapped around Gabriel and Dean's got his hands firmly wrapped around Castiel's shoulders. Both are glaring at their respective angels.
"Dude, seriously? Seriously. I don't like traveling Angel Air," Dean complained, relucantly taking his hands off of Castiel as he registered the distinct lack of further movement.
Sam didn't say anything, but carefully arranged his expression into the perfect mix of disappointment and frustration that he then aimed at Gabriel.
Castiel at least had the decency to look slightly abashed; Gabriel just grinned.
"Come on, boys, where's your sense of adventure? Whole new worlds at your fingertips!" He spread his arms out and Sam and Dean finally took a good look at where on Earth they were.
Or rather, where on Earth they weren't.
"Are we...are we on Mars?"
--------
Sixteen years later, the first spaceship manned by humans landed on the surface of the red planet. There was lots of pomp and circumstance and planting of the flag and many photos taken and video shot and it was all pretty much good up until the geologist took a closer look at a large rock nearby.
"Uh, sir?" he called out. The captain trudged up behind him.
"What is is, Doc?" The geologist pointed at the carvings, not needing to say anything more.
The Winchesters were here.