Fic: Necessities
Title: Necessities
Author: twfftw
Rating: R
Genre: Humour, Angst
Spoilers: Up to 7.1.
Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel
Word Count: 3248
Warnings: None.
Summary: In which the fact that everyone got some, everyone's getting some, and everyone's up to speed does not actually make everyone happy. Yet.
Notes: This was originally started during hiatus, and finished just after 7.1. I believe the revisions have brought it in line with canon up through 7.6 (last ep I saw)... but let's just call it AU from 7.1, shall we?
This is, believe it or not, the fic chef_hector won from me in help_japan. (Sorry, enmuse, but I believe the title of The Most Patient Human Being In the World has been stolen away). In related news, if I do a charity auction again, I think I should probably offer drabbles. Possibly a drabble.
Thanks to enmuse and noneeca for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Necessities
So it turns out what you need to definitively save the world is not a morally more-than-dubious demon who’ll kill you as soon as look at you if it gets him what he wants.
It’s also not a no-longer-falling angel-turned-possible-god whose sanity has been crushed under the weight of fifty thousand souls from Purgatory.
What you need is a formerly-dead archangel with incredible cosmic powers, a really solid grasp on the concept of free will, and no patience left for this bullshit.
Bringing Gabriel back wasn’t easy, but Sam’s very, very glad they did.
Not least because it turns out he actually likes the archangel.
Well, maybe that is the least important reason. But it’s definitely the most surprising.
The thing is, it’s just a lot easier to hate Gabriel at a distance. When all Sam had was the memory of the time Gabriel killed Dean over and over again (or the time he made Sam star in a herpes commercial), it was pretty easy not to like him. But now, Sam doesn’t have memories; now, Sam has Gabriel, up close, personal, and 24/7. Since they brought him back, Gabriel’s been around pretty much all the time, and in person he’s just... fun. He takes a lot of pleasure in the little things in life. He’s irreverent. He’s cheerful. He’s charming. And he’s actually really funny - when the joke’s not on Sam.
Sam spent the first few weeks firmly reminding himself over and over that Gabriel was not to be trusted - but then he actually stopped and thought about it. And he realized that Gabriel, of all the angels, had probably been the most honest with them. Okay, so he probably could have found some better ways of getting his points across, but he almost never lied - and he never sold them out. The more time Sam spends with Gabriel, the more he sees that side of him - little glimpses of the loyal, determined, appalled-by-injustice archangel that Gabriel pretends really hard not to be.
Somewhere along the way, it just became really hard for Sam to keep reminding himself why he didn’t like Gabriel.
And besides...
And besides, Dean might need somebody who will stand way too close and gaze at him soulfully and tell him he’s worth saving, but it looks like what Sam really needs is somebody who’ll roll his eyes dramatically and tell him that “getting hopped up on demon blood and accidentally starting the Apocalypse because you were trying to save your brother from Hell” doesn’t even make the top hundred Terrible Things Humans Have Done - it probably doesn’t even crack the top thousand - so he should really just get over himself already.
It just... it helps.
Not that Sam’s thinking about any of this at the moment.
Not that Sam’s thinking about much of anything at the moment.
Although there’s something he’s supposed to be thinking. There’s something he’s supposed to say...
“Gabriel,” he manages, and his voice sounds thin and breathless to his own ears. “Gabriel.”
Gabriel ignores him, continuing to work his way down Sam’s chest.
“Gabriel,” Sam says again. The rest of the sentence is on the tip of his tongue - but then Gabriel does something with his teeth that makes the words fall out of Sam’s brain. He swallows, hard, and barely manages “Gabriel, please.”
Gabriel pulls himself onto all fours and moves up the bed to loom over Sam, grinning - Sam would know he was grinning even if he couldn’t see the white flash of teeth in the motel near-dark.
Because of course Gabriel thinks this is hilarious. If Dean woke up, that would probably only make it funnier.
Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t find the idea of Dean waking up to find his little brother being licked head to toe by an archangel all that amusing.
Not least because he hasn’t exactly told Dean about him and Gabriel yet.
He’s been waiting for the right moment.
He’s pretty sure this isn’t it.
“Yes, Sam? Was there something you wanted?” Gabriel asks, close enough that Sam can feel Gabriel’s lips brushing his ear. He steels himself, and manages:
“Gabriel, he’ll hear us.”
“Not if you’re quiet,” Gabriel murmurs back, and before Sam can come up with a response he slides back down the bed and closes his lips around Sam’s nipple.
Sam slams his mouth shut and absolutely doesn’t whimper.
He very nearly bites through his own lip trying to stay quiet while Gabriel does incredible things with his tongue, but he manages it.
It’s a very impressive effort.
It’s completely wasted.
As Gabriel lifts his head - probably to start on the other nipple - a low moan reaches Sam’s ears.
Sam swats blindly at Gabriel in frustration. He doesn’t really expect a reaction; he’s surprised when Gabriel slides back up his torso, puts his mouth back by his ear.
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” he purrs. “I thought you were going to stay quiet.”
Sam frowns into the dark. “That wasn’t me.”
Gabriel goes very still. There is a long, long pause.
“Huh,” Gabriel says.
He pulls away to sit up, straddling Sam’s hips. Sam can make out enough of his outline to see he’s staring off into the dark room; without really thinking, he turns his head to follow Gabriel’s line of sight. So when Gabriel claps his hands twice sharply, flooding the room with light, Sam is staring right at the other bed.
Right at Dean.
And Cas.
Right at Dean under Cas, arching up against him. Dean has a hand clutching at Cas’ back; Cas has a hand thrust haphazardly into Dean’s hair. Cas’ other hand has disappeared under the sheet draped across their lower bodies - the sheet that’s keeping them decent, because above the sheet they’re naked - naked and kissing, wildly, passionately, desperately, and Sam is going to have to bleach his eyes.
“Gaaaah!”
By the time Sam realises he did make that noise, Dean and Cas have already sprung apart - because they’re Dean and Cas, really far apart. Cas ends up three feet from the bed, fully clothed, hand raised halfway to smiting. Dean doesn’t go quite that far, but he flips over and shoves a hand under his pillow, reaching for-- for--
Actually, Sam doesn’t know what Dean’s reaching for. Once, it would have been just a gun or a knife; later, it would have been the Colt. Now... well, now it could still be any of those things (not everything knows the Colt is useless now), but it could also be Ruby’s knife, or one of the confiscated angel blades. It troubles Sam that he doesn’t know; it seems like the sort of thing he should know. He should ask. And he will, but at the moment he’s got a more pressing question.
“Dean, what the hell?!”
Dean freezes at the sound of Sam’s voice. He slowly pulls his hand out from under the pillow, then very, very, slowly, Sam would say reluctantly, turns over to meet Sam’s gaze.
When he does, his eyes abruptly go very, very wide.
“I could ask you the same question,” he says.
And that’s when Sam realises he still has a half-naked archangel straddling his hips.
“Um,” he says, eloquently.
“Hey there, Dean-o,” Gabriel says, with a jaunty little wave. Sam has the horrible feeling that he’s actually having more fun than he was five minutes ago.
Dean ignores him (although he does start looking a little crazy around the eyes). “Seriously Sam, what the hell?”
“I asked you first!” Sam says, because sometimes the best defence is a good offense. And because sometimes arguing with Dean turns him into a five-year-old. “How long has this been going on?”
Dean hesitates. “Not long,” he says, with really fake nonchalance. His eyes slide over to Cas, but when Sam looks Cas is apparently transfixed by a stain on the carpet by his feet.
“Not-- How long is not long? A week? Two weeks?” Dean just keeps awkwardly avoiding Sam’s eyes. He looks about two seconds away from starting to fidget with the pillow. “What, three weeks?” Silence. “A month?”
“Mmmm, no. Try two months,” Gabriel says.
Wait, Gabriel says?
Sam turns to the archangel, feeling obscurely betrayed. Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop with the puppy face, Sam, they didn’t tell me either. It’s obvious.”
It’s not obvious to Sam. And that must be obvious to Gabriel, because he heaves a put-upon sigh. “Make-up sex, hello!”
“Make-up...?”
“After we turfed the freeloaders that were hitching a ride in Cas.” Only Gabriel would describe a spell that took a month to prepare, four hours to perform, and that nearly killed Dean and Cas both as turfing the freeloaders. “You know, when we had him on lockdown until we were sure he wasn’t kookoo for cocoa puffs any more? Dean had all those heart-to-hearts with him? Soulful looks, heartfelt apologies, I defied Heaven for you, I risked my immortal soul for you, never leave me again, blah blah blah. Their eyes meet, their hands brush, electricity sparks between them... It was probably very moving. They probably cried.”
“We didn’t cry,” Dean says witheringly, then slams his mouth shut.
Make-up sex. Make-up sex. Sam blinks up at the ceiling.
“That’s... that was more than two months ago. That’s like two and a half... That’s like three months ago, Dean!”
Now Sam feels betrayed. Three months. Three months Dean has been sleeping with Cas, and he didn’t say anything.
“What the hell, Dean, seriously!” Sam tries to pull himself into a sitting position, the better to glare at his brother, but he’s still got an archangel sitting on his lap. He might as well be trying to pull himself out from under a ton of solid rock - even before Gabriel puts a hand on Sam’s chest and pushes him back down.
“Of course, our first time,” Gabriel says cheerily, looking at Sam but clearly directing his words to Dean, “was victory sex.”
Sam stares up at Gabriel, appalled. He opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a sort of squeaking sound.
“Surely you remember, pumpkin.” Gabriel grins brightly, and Sam’s suddenly remembering why they used to be mortal enemies. “It was after our dramatic final battle with the Leviathans. Adrenaline was pumping, endorphins were high, tequila was plentiful... You drop someone as good-looking as yours truly into that situation, nature’s going to take its course.”
Dean makes a sort of horrified choking noise.
“What was that, sugar pie, about a month ago?” Gabriel looks thoughtful for a moment, then snaps his fingers; Sam braces preemptively, but apparently it’s just for emphasis. “You know, it was almost exactly a month ago! Happy monthiversary, snookums! Remind me to do something special for you. Or, you know,” he adds, tilting his head consideringly in a gesture that’s disturbingly reminiscent of Cas, “to you.”
“Oh my God, please don’t,” Dean says, his voice surprisingly clear given that he’s got both hands over his face.
“Oh, come on,” Gabriel says. “You can’t tell me you and Cas didn’t do a little celebratory horizontal mambo that night.”
Dean turns crimson.
“There we go.” Gabriel says. “Everyone got some. Everyone’s getting some. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s up to speed.”
He brushes his hands together in a that’s that sort of gesture, like they’re all just cool now, and abruptly Sam’s anger comes rushing back.
“Yeah,” he says, “we are now.”
Gabriel frowns, but Sam doesn’t give him a chance to start up again.
“Dude, three months?” He glares at Dean. “Three months and you didn’t say anything?”
Dean blinks at him. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t tell you about everyone I sleep with. I mean,” he adds, “if I did, we’d never talk about anything else.” He grins.
“Do you think this is funny?” Sam snaps.
Dean frowns at him. “No, but I’m starting to think it’s a little confusing.”
“This is not about you not telling me about some one-night stand, Dean. You’ve been in a relationship for three months. That’s just - it’s so fucking typical.”
Dean frowns again. “Typical? What -- How-- How is that typical, in any possible definition of the word?”
“You kept it from me, Dean. You didn’t just not tell me, you’ve been hiding it. You’ve been sneaking around, for months.”
“Right,” Dean says, and now he’s starting to sound a little pissed. “And that’s different from you and Gabriel how? Oh right, because that’s only been one month. No, I see, you’re right, that’s totally different.”
“Three weeks, Dean, and it is different. I was just trying to figure out how to tell you. Gabriel’s not exactly your favourite person.”
“Oh, is that it? Well, maybe you’ve forgotten, but three months ago Cas wasn’t exactly your favourite person either.”
“Because he’d just tried to kill us!”
Dean stares at him, then shoots a pointed, wordless look at Gabriel.
“That was different,” Sam says. For one thing, Dean doesn’t even remember that, and for another, he’s pretty sure Dean was never really dead. The righteous man popping in and out of Heaven a couple hundred times in a row seems like the sort of time even the most incompetent angels would have noticed.
“That was diff--” Dean cuts himself off and takes what is obviously supposed to be a calming breath. “Look. Three months ago, things were confused, and stressful, and happening really fast, and... I just didn’t know how you’d react.”
“So your solution was to not tell me at all?”
“Yeah, Sam, that was my solution!” So much for calm; Dean has hauled himself into a sitting position and is half-yelling now. “I was getting into a relationship and I had a lot to deal with, and I decided to handle it myself. I’m still confused as to how this is any different from what you did.”
“Because this is what you do, Dean! You keep things from me. You don’t trust me. You keep secrets because you don’t think I can handle what’s really going on!”
“Really, Sam? Really?” Dean is up off the bed now, sheet clutched around his waist, looming over Sam. “Is that the conversation you want to have?”
“Dean.” Cas’ sudden interjection startles Sam. He glances over, but Cas is still staring fixedly at the floor, unmoving.
“You really want to get into who keeps secrets, and who doesn’t trust who? Because yeah, Sam, I’ve screwed up on that, but if you think you’ve got a perfect record there you’ve got one hell of a short memory!”
“Dean.” Sam glances over and Cas has lifted his head; he’s looking at Dean, now.
“So you know what Sam, let’s get into this. Let’s get into bad judgement. Let’s get into keeping secrets. Let’s get into sleeping with the wrong people.”
“Dean.”
“What do you think, Sam, do you want to get into--”
“Dean.” And suddenly Cas isn’t in his corner any more; he’s by the bed, grabbing at Dean’s shoulders. Dean rounds on him, face set and angry, manages a “What--”
And then Cas kisses him.
Sam’s still staring at Dean; he can’t seem to stop. He sees when Dean stops pushing at Cas; sees when his shoulders drop out of their angry hunch. He sees Dean’s face relax out of its tense, angry lines; sees him start to kiss Cas back.
When they break apart, Dean is panting, a light flush high on his cheeks. Sam feels himself blush belatedly as Cas pulls Dean back towards him, leans their foreheads together.
“You don’t,” Cas says.
“What?” Dean manages, sounding hoarse and breathless.
“You don’t. You don’t want to get into that.”
Dean sighs. “Cas--”
Cas cuts him off with another kiss. This time Sam does manage to look away, but he can still hear them in the dead-silent room.
“You don’t want to get into that,” Cas says when they break apart again. “You’re just glad that Sam’s alive. You’re just glad that Sam’s himself.”
Dean sighs, and Cas presses his advantage. “The rest of it doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s here. You’re here. I’m here.” Castiel pauses. “And I haven’t been here for two weeks.”
This is followed by another bout of not-silence, and Sam opens his mouth to protest - but before he can say anything, Gabriel’s voice sounds loud in his ear.
“I think four’s a crowd, don’t you?”
And the next thing Sam knows, he and Gabriel are in a different motel room. Alone.
“Gabriel--” Sam starts angrily, but Gabriel cuts him off.
“Sam,” he says. “He didn’t mean it. Let it go.”
“Gabriel, I can’t just let it go! You have to--”
Take me back, he means to say, but the words die on his lips as he stares up at Gabriel. Cheerful, cocky Gabriel is staring down at him expressionlessly, his mobile face flat and closed-off. Wary. He’s still sitting on Sam, but Sam can see the tension in his shoulders, can feel it in his legs. He looks...
He looks like he did when they trapped him in a circle of fire. When Castiel first revealed who Gabriel was. When they found out he was a lone angel who’d fled from Heaven into hiding.
Because he couldn’t take the fighting that was tearing his brothers apart.
Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He breathes out slowly, tries to exhale his anger.
Gabriel is wrong. Sam can’t just let it go.
Castiel is wrong. Sam wants to get into that. Needs to get into it; needs to pull out into the light all the things Dean’s been carrying around. That they’ve both been carrying around.
Because the only other option is walking away, and Sam’s tried that - they’ve both tried that - and it gets them nowhere. So Sam won’t walk away. Sam will make sure Gabriel drops him outside Dean’s motel room tomorrow morning. And when Dean comes out, Sam won’t let him pretend nothing happened, won’t let him pretend everything’s fine. And he won’t accept the apology he knows Dean will give him not because he feels sorry but because he feels guilty for going off on Sam.
Sam won’t let Dean shut him down. Sam will use every last one of the hours they’re on the road together tomorrow to make Dean get into everything - into all the things Sam’s been ignoring, all the things Dean’s been letting fester.
It’s going to be painful. It’s going to be harsh. Sam knows he’ll say some terrible things; Sam knows that if Dean gets angry enough, he will too. But it won’t be enough to tear them apart.
After all, they wouldn’t care about trust, wouldn’t care about betrayal, if they didn’t care about each other.
They’ve tried walking away. They just end up coming back.
And however tough and messed up things get... deep down Sam knows he isn’t really sorry about that.
The Winchesters may not be perfect, but they’re no angels either. They’ll be all right.
“Gabriel,” Sam says, and there’s still a temptation to say take me back, take me to Dean, I have to finish this now. “Gabriel. I hope you realise you’ve really raised my expectations for our monthiversary.”
Gabriel still has the worst ways of getting his point across, but Sam does like his smile.
Author: twfftw
Rating: R
Genre: Humour, Angst
Spoilers: Up to 7.1.
Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel
Word Count: 3248
Warnings: None.
Summary: In which the fact that everyone got some, everyone's getting some, and everyone's up to speed does not actually make everyone happy. Yet.
Notes: This was originally started during hiatus, and finished just after 7.1. I believe the revisions have brought it in line with canon up through 7.6 (last ep I saw)... but let's just call it AU from 7.1, shall we?
This is, believe it or not, the fic chef_hector won from me in help_japan. (Sorry, enmuse, but I believe the title of The Most Patient Human Being In the World has been stolen away). In related news, if I do a charity auction again, I think I should probably offer drabbles. Possibly a drabble.
Thanks to enmuse and noneeca for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Necessities
So it turns out what you need to definitively save the world is not a morally more-than-dubious demon who’ll kill you as soon as look at you if it gets him what he wants.
It’s also not a no-longer-falling angel-turned-possible-god whose sanity has been crushed under the weight of fifty thousand souls from Purgatory.
What you need is a formerly-dead archangel with incredible cosmic powers, a really solid grasp on the concept of free will, and no patience left for this bullshit.
Bringing Gabriel back wasn’t easy, but Sam’s very, very glad they did.
Not least because it turns out he actually likes the archangel.
Well, maybe that is the least important reason. But it’s definitely the most surprising.
The thing is, it’s just a lot easier to hate Gabriel at a distance. When all Sam had was the memory of the time Gabriel killed Dean over and over again (or the time he made Sam star in a herpes commercial), it was pretty easy not to like him. But now, Sam doesn’t have memories; now, Sam has Gabriel, up close, personal, and 24/7. Since they brought him back, Gabriel’s been around pretty much all the time, and in person he’s just... fun. He takes a lot of pleasure in the little things in life. He’s irreverent. He’s cheerful. He’s charming. And he’s actually really funny - when the joke’s not on Sam.
Sam spent the first few weeks firmly reminding himself over and over that Gabriel was not to be trusted - but then he actually stopped and thought about it. And he realized that Gabriel, of all the angels, had probably been the most honest with them. Okay, so he probably could have found some better ways of getting his points across, but he almost never lied - and he never sold them out. The more time Sam spends with Gabriel, the more he sees that side of him - little glimpses of the loyal, determined, appalled-by-injustice archangel that Gabriel pretends really hard not to be.
Somewhere along the way, it just became really hard for Sam to keep reminding himself why he didn’t like Gabriel.
And besides...
And besides, Dean might need somebody who will stand way too close and gaze at him soulfully and tell him he’s worth saving, but it looks like what Sam really needs is somebody who’ll roll his eyes dramatically and tell him that “getting hopped up on demon blood and accidentally starting the Apocalypse because you were trying to save your brother from Hell” doesn’t even make the top hundred Terrible Things Humans Have Done - it probably doesn’t even crack the top thousand - so he should really just get over himself already.
It just... it helps.
Not that Sam’s thinking about any of this at the moment.
Not that Sam’s thinking about much of anything at the moment.
Although there’s something he’s supposed to be thinking. There’s something he’s supposed to say...
“Gabriel,” he manages, and his voice sounds thin and breathless to his own ears. “Gabriel.”
Gabriel ignores him, continuing to work his way down Sam’s chest.
“Gabriel,” Sam says again. The rest of the sentence is on the tip of his tongue - but then Gabriel does something with his teeth that makes the words fall out of Sam’s brain. He swallows, hard, and barely manages “Gabriel, please.”
Gabriel pulls himself onto all fours and moves up the bed to loom over Sam, grinning - Sam would know he was grinning even if he couldn’t see the white flash of teeth in the motel near-dark.
Because of course Gabriel thinks this is hilarious. If Dean woke up, that would probably only make it funnier.
Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t find the idea of Dean waking up to find his little brother being licked head to toe by an archangel all that amusing.
Not least because he hasn’t exactly told Dean about him and Gabriel yet.
He’s been waiting for the right moment.
He’s pretty sure this isn’t it.
“Yes, Sam? Was there something you wanted?” Gabriel asks, close enough that Sam can feel Gabriel’s lips brushing his ear. He steels himself, and manages:
“Gabriel, he’ll hear us.”
“Not if you’re quiet,” Gabriel murmurs back, and before Sam can come up with a response he slides back down the bed and closes his lips around Sam’s nipple.
Sam slams his mouth shut and absolutely doesn’t whimper.
He very nearly bites through his own lip trying to stay quiet while Gabriel does incredible things with his tongue, but he manages it.
It’s a very impressive effort.
It’s completely wasted.
As Gabriel lifts his head - probably to start on the other nipple - a low moan reaches Sam’s ears.
Sam swats blindly at Gabriel in frustration. He doesn’t really expect a reaction; he’s surprised when Gabriel slides back up his torso, puts his mouth back by his ear.
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” he purrs. “I thought you were going to stay quiet.”
Sam frowns into the dark. “That wasn’t me.”
Gabriel goes very still. There is a long, long pause.
“Huh,” Gabriel says.
He pulls away to sit up, straddling Sam’s hips. Sam can make out enough of his outline to see he’s staring off into the dark room; without really thinking, he turns his head to follow Gabriel’s line of sight. So when Gabriel claps his hands twice sharply, flooding the room with light, Sam is staring right at the other bed.
Right at Dean.
And Cas.
Right at Dean under Cas, arching up against him. Dean has a hand clutching at Cas’ back; Cas has a hand thrust haphazardly into Dean’s hair. Cas’ other hand has disappeared under the sheet draped across their lower bodies - the sheet that’s keeping them decent, because above the sheet they’re naked - naked and kissing, wildly, passionately, desperately, and Sam is going to have to bleach his eyes.
“Gaaaah!”
By the time Sam realises he did make that noise, Dean and Cas have already sprung apart - because they’re Dean and Cas, really far apart. Cas ends up three feet from the bed, fully clothed, hand raised halfway to smiting. Dean doesn’t go quite that far, but he flips over and shoves a hand under his pillow, reaching for-- for--
Actually, Sam doesn’t know what Dean’s reaching for. Once, it would have been just a gun or a knife; later, it would have been the Colt. Now... well, now it could still be any of those things (not everything knows the Colt is useless now), but it could also be Ruby’s knife, or one of the confiscated angel blades. It troubles Sam that he doesn’t know; it seems like the sort of thing he should know. He should ask. And he will, but at the moment he’s got a more pressing question.
“Dean, what the hell?!”
Dean freezes at the sound of Sam’s voice. He slowly pulls his hand out from under the pillow, then very, very, slowly, Sam would say reluctantly, turns over to meet Sam’s gaze.
When he does, his eyes abruptly go very, very wide.
“I could ask you the same question,” he says.
And that’s when Sam realises he still has a half-naked archangel straddling his hips.
“Um,” he says, eloquently.
“Hey there, Dean-o,” Gabriel says, with a jaunty little wave. Sam has the horrible feeling that he’s actually having more fun than he was five minutes ago.
Dean ignores him (although he does start looking a little crazy around the eyes). “Seriously Sam, what the hell?”
“I asked you first!” Sam says, because sometimes the best defence is a good offense. And because sometimes arguing with Dean turns him into a five-year-old. “How long has this been going on?”
Dean hesitates. “Not long,” he says, with really fake nonchalance. His eyes slide over to Cas, but when Sam looks Cas is apparently transfixed by a stain on the carpet by his feet.
“Not-- How long is not long? A week? Two weeks?” Dean just keeps awkwardly avoiding Sam’s eyes. He looks about two seconds away from starting to fidget with the pillow. “What, three weeks?” Silence. “A month?”
“Mmmm, no. Try two months,” Gabriel says.
Wait, Gabriel says?
Sam turns to the archangel, feeling obscurely betrayed. Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop with the puppy face, Sam, they didn’t tell me either. It’s obvious.”
It’s not obvious to Sam. And that must be obvious to Gabriel, because he heaves a put-upon sigh. “Make-up sex, hello!”
“Make-up...?”
“After we turfed the freeloaders that were hitching a ride in Cas.” Only Gabriel would describe a spell that took a month to prepare, four hours to perform, and that nearly killed Dean and Cas both as turfing the freeloaders. “You know, when we had him on lockdown until we were sure he wasn’t kookoo for cocoa puffs any more? Dean had all those heart-to-hearts with him? Soulful looks, heartfelt apologies, I defied Heaven for you, I risked my immortal soul for you, never leave me again, blah blah blah. Their eyes meet, their hands brush, electricity sparks between them... It was probably very moving. They probably cried.”
“We didn’t cry,” Dean says witheringly, then slams his mouth shut.
Make-up sex. Make-up sex. Sam blinks up at the ceiling.
“That’s... that was more than two months ago. That’s like two and a half... That’s like three months ago, Dean!”
Now Sam feels betrayed. Three months. Three months Dean has been sleeping with Cas, and he didn’t say anything.
“What the hell, Dean, seriously!” Sam tries to pull himself into a sitting position, the better to glare at his brother, but he’s still got an archangel sitting on his lap. He might as well be trying to pull himself out from under a ton of solid rock - even before Gabriel puts a hand on Sam’s chest and pushes him back down.
“Of course, our first time,” Gabriel says cheerily, looking at Sam but clearly directing his words to Dean, “was victory sex.”
Sam stares up at Gabriel, appalled. He opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a sort of squeaking sound.
“Surely you remember, pumpkin.” Gabriel grins brightly, and Sam’s suddenly remembering why they used to be mortal enemies. “It was after our dramatic final battle with the Leviathans. Adrenaline was pumping, endorphins were high, tequila was plentiful... You drop someone as good-looking as yours truly into that situation, nature’s going to take its course.”
Dean makes a sort of horrified choking noise.
“What was that, sugar pie, about a month ago?” Gabriel looks thoughtful for a moment, then snaps his fingers; Sam braces preemptively, but apparently it’s just for emphasis. “You know, it was almost exactly a month ago! Happy monthiversary, snookums! Remind me to do something special for you. Or, you know,” he adds, tilting his head consideringly in a gesture that’s disturbingly reminiscent of Cas, “to you.”
“Oh my God, please don’t,” Dean says, his voice surprisingly clear given that he’s got both hands over his face.
“Oh, come on,” Gabriel says. “You can’t tell me you and Cas didn’t do a little celebratory horizontal mambo that night.”
Dean turns crimson.
“There we go.” Gabriel says. “Everyone got some. Everyone’s getting some. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s up to speed.”
He brushes his hands together in a that’s that sort of gesture, like they’re all just cool now, and abruptly Sam’s anger comes rushing back.
“Yeah,” he says, “we are now.”
Gabriel frowns, but Sam doesn’t give him a chance to start up again.
“Dude, three months?” He glares at Dean. “Three months and you didn’t say anything?”
Dean blinks at him. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t tell you about everyone I sleep with. I mean,” he adds, “if I did, we’d never talk about anything else.” He grins.
“Do you think this is funny?” Sam snaps.
Dean frowns at him. “No, but I’m starting to think it’s a little confusing.”
“This is not about you not telling me about some one-night stand, Dean. You’ve been in a relationship for three months. That’s just - it’s so fucking typical.”
Dean frowns again. “Typical? What -- How-- How is that typical, in any possible definition of the word?”
“You kept it from me, Dean. You didn’t just not tell me, you’ve been hiding it. You’ve been sneaking around, for months.”
“Right,” Dean says, and now he’s starting to sound a little pissed. “And that’s different from you and Gabriel how? Oh right, because that’s only been one month. No, I see, you’re right, that’s totally different.”
“Three weeks, Dean, and it is different. I was just trying to figure out how to tell you. Gabriel’s not exactly your favourite person.”
“Oh, is that it? Well, maybe you’ve forgotten, but three months ago Cas wasn’t exactly your favourite person either.”
“Because he’d just tried to kill us!”
Dean stares at him, then shoots a pointed, wordless look at Gabriel.
“That was different,” Sam says. For one thing, Dean doesn’t even remember that, and for another, he’s pretty sure Dean was never really dead. The righteous man popping in and out of Heaven a couple hundred times in a row seems like the sort of time even the most incompetent angels would have noticed.
“That was diff--” Dean cuts himself off and takes what is obviously supposed to be a calming breath. “Look. Three months ago, things were confused, and stressful, and happening really fast, and... I just didn’t know how you’d react.”
“So your solution was to not tell me at all?”
“Yeah, Sam, that was my solution!” So much for calm; Dean has hauled himself into a sitting position and is half-yelling now. “I was getting into a relationship and I had a lot to deal with, and I decided to handle it myself. I’m still confused as to how this is any different from what you did.”
“Because this is what you do, Dean! You keep things from me. You don’t trust me. You keep secrets because you don’t think I can handle what’s really going on!”
“Really, Sam? Really?” Dean is up off the bed now, sheet clutched around his waist, looming over Sam. “Is that the conversation you want to have?”
“Dean.” Cas’ sudden interjection startles Sam. He glances over, but Cas is still staring fixedly at the floor, unmoving.
“You really want to get into who keeps secrets, and who doesn’t trust who? Because yeah, Sam, I’ve screwed up on that, but if you think you’ve got a perfect record there you’ve got one hell of a short memory!”
“Dean.” Sam glances over and Cas has lifted his head; he’s looking at Dean, now.
“So you know what Sam, let’s get into this. Let’s get into bad judgement. Let’s get into keeping secrets. Let’s get into sleeping with the wrong people.”
“Dean.”
“What do you think, Sam, do you want to get into--”
“Dean.” And suddenly Cas isn’t in his corner any more; he’s by the bed, grabbing at Dean’s shoulders. Dean rounds on him, face set and angry, manages a “What--”
And then Cas kisses him.
Sam’s still staring at Dean; he can’t seem to stop. He sees when Dean stops pushing at Cas; sees when his shoulders drop out of their angry hunch. He sees Dean’s face relax out of its tense, angry lines; sees him start to kiss Cas back.
When they break apart, Dean is panting, a light flush high on his cheeks. Sam feels himself blush belatedly as Cas pulls Dean back towards him, leans their foreheads together.
“You don’t,” Cas says.
“What?” Dean manages, sounding hoarse and breathless.
“You don’t. You don’t want to get into that.”
Dean sighs. “Cas--”
Cas cuts him off with another kiss. This time Sam does manage to look away, but he can still hear them in the dead-silent room.
“You don’t want to get into that,” Cas says when they break apart again. “You’re just glad that Sam’s alive. You’re just glad that Sam’s himself.”
Dean sighs, and Cas presses his advantage. “The rest of it doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s here. You’re here. I’m here.” Castiel pauses. “And I haven’t been here for two weeks.”
This is followed by another bout of not-silence, and Sam opens his mouth to protest - but before he can say anything, Gabriel’s voice sounds loud in his ear.
“I think four’s a crowd, don’t you?”
And the next thing Sam knows, he and Gabriel are in a different motel room. Alone.
“Gabriel--” Sam starts angrily, but Gabriel cuts him off.
“Sam,” he says. “He didn’t mean it. Let it go.”
“Gabriel, I can’t just let it go! You have to--”
Take me back, he means to say, but the words die on his lips as he stares up at Gabriel. Cheerful, cocky Gabriel is staring down at him expressionlessly, his mobile face flat and closed-off. Wary. He’s still sitting on Sam, but Sam can see the tension in his shoulders, can feel it in his legs. He looks...
He looks like he did when they trapped him in a circle of fire. When Castiel first revealed who Gabriel was. When they found out he was a lone angel who’d fled from Heaven into hiding.
Because he couldn’t take the fighting that was tearing his brothers apart.
Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He breathes out slowly, tries to exhale his anger.
Gabriel is wrong. Sam can’t just let it go.
Castiel is wrong. Sam wants to get into that. Needs to get into it; needs to pull out into the light all the things Dean’s been carrying around. That they’ve both been carrying around.
Because the only other option is walking away, and Sam’s tried that - they’ve both tried that - and it gets them nowhere. So Sam won’t walk away. Sam will make sure Gabriel drops him outside Dean’s motel room tomorrow morning. And when Dean comes out, Sam won’t let him pretend nothing happened, won’t let him pretend everything’s fine. And he won’t accept the apology he knows Dean will give him not because he feels sorry but because he feels guilty for going off on Sam.
Sam won’t let Dean shut him down. Sam will use every last one of the hours they’re on the road together tomorrow to make Dean get into everything - into all the things Sam’s been ignoring, all the things Dean’s been letting fester.
It’s going to be painful. It’s going to be harsh. Sam knows he’ll say some terrible things; Sam knows that if Dean gets angry enough, he will too. But it won’t be enough to tear them apart.
After all, they wouldn’t care about trust, wouldn’t care about betrayal, if they didn’t care about each other.
They’ve tried walking away. They just end up coming back.
And however tough and messed up things get... deep down Sam knows he isn’t really sorry about that.
The Winchesters may not be perfect, but they’re no angels either. They’ll be all right.
“Gabriel,” Sam says, and there’s still a temptation to say take me back, take me to Dean, I have to finish this now. “Gabriel. I hope you realise you’ve really raised my expectations for our monthiversary.”
Gabriel still has the worst ways of getting his point across, but Sam does like his smile.