((Supernatural HS AU)) Hodgepodge (Part 3)
Part 2 here.
The Monday after the end of Sam's second ABVD cycle, one month into this whole adventure in chemotherapy, Gabriel bounced on the balls of his feet as he fished the key out from under the mat and unlocked the door. His backpack was heavy with both Sam's books and his own, and he had a stuffed manatee tucked under one arm - Sam's prize for getting four straight treatments under his belt. When he closed the door behind him and turned to head up the stairs, however, he found himself face to face with somebody he hadn't expected: not Sam, but the rugged and imposing John Winchester.
“Oh,” Gabriel said, because it was the only thing that came to mind.
“Figured you'd be coming by,” John replied, leaning on the stair railing and eying him pensively. “Good to see you know your way around our doormat.”
“Yeah, I ah...sorry. I mean, I don't want Sam to have to get up for me if he's not feeling great, you know?” He scratched his neck and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, holding the stuffed manatee in his arms close to his chest. “I didn't...know you were home. I mean I woulda knocked...”
“Well I'm assuming you're not here to rob us, so I think I can let it slide,” said John, and though his tone was stiff and made him sound tired and stretched thin, it wasn't unfriendly. He sighed a moment, his shoulders slumping; it made him look much smaller, though he still towered over Gabriel regardless. “I came home from work early today. Sam's having a rough time at the moment...the last treatment hit him pretty hard and I don't think the anti-emetics they gave him are working very well for him. I need to call the doc and talk to him about looking into some different ones...” He reached up and massaged his temples.
“Oh...” Gabriel said again.
John straightened up. “Point is, he's really feeling it today. Just figured I'd warn you.”
“Should I...” Gabriel swallowed, clutching the stuffed manatee in his arms like a security blanket. “I could just leave his books...come back later...”
“No.” John took a step toward him, slowly. “No, I think you should stay a bit. I think it'd help him to know you're here.”
“I...really?”
“Sam's fighting this like a trooper, he really is. And I can't be here enough when he needs me. Plus with Dean off at college, it...it's tough on him. He's alone more than he should be.” John frowned, his brow creasing and making him look at least five years older, but when he turned toward Gabriel again, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, although it seemed to almost pain him with the effort it took to keep it there. “You help him. You really do.”
Gabriel stared at him a moment before saying, “Thank you,” because, again, it was the only thing that came to mind.
“Yeah, well maybe I should be thanking you, you know? But for now...” He gestured toward the stairs, and Gabriel hesitated for only a moment before taking a few tentative steps toward them, and then bounding up toward Sam's room two at a time.
As it turned out, John had been all too right about Sam having a rough day. When Gabriel peeked into his room, softly calling out his name, he didn't find him in bed. It took him only a moment to work out where he was, and it was only thanks to the sounds of retching coming from the connecting bathroom that he did. He put his heavy backpack down beside Sam's bed and placed the stuffed manatee on his pillow before going over to the bathroom and slowly leaning on the door.
It creaked open, and Sam looked up at him with a horribly pained expression for just a short moment before turning back to the toilet and vomiting again. “Rough day, Sammich?” Gabriel asked, swallowing to keep his stomach from turning. Sam moaned and slouched over the bowl, clenching his fists.
“I feel like shit...” he whimpered helplessly against the porcelain lip. He rested his clammy forehead against his forearm, closing his eyes tight and letting out a pained noise. Gabriel knelt next to him, flattening his palm between Sam's shoulder blades and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. Sam glanced up at him with tired, questioning eyes. “What're you doing here?”
“It's a Monday,” Gabriel said plainly as he shrugged. “You weren't in school.”
Sam let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah...I was here...puking my guts out.” He turned away again, gagging, but not bringing anything up. He groaned as his stomach clenched and twisted, and when he spoke again, his voice was so small that even he couldn't believe that it was his own. It came out rough and dry and the effort of forming the words hurt his already raw throat. “I don't want to do this anymore...” he pleaded. “I don't want to do this...” His eyes burned, and a tear dripped pitifully off his cheek and slid down the edge of the toilet bowl.
“You're doing so good, Sammich,” Gabriel assured him, leaning in close and ignoring the sour smell of vomit. “You're fighting this tooth and nail. You've been doing for two months now-”
“Two months and I'm not even halfway through...”
“But you're getting there. You're getting there, Sam. You're kicking the hodgepodge's ass into next century.” Sam folded his arms on the lip of the toilet bowl and made an unconvinced sound in the back of his throat. “God, Sam...I'm so proud of you...You don't even know.”
It took Sam a long time to finally call up the strength to look up at him, and when he did, the sincerity sparkling in Gabriel's amber eyes made his chest unclench, if only just a tiny bit. It was a welcome relief. “I just wanna get better...” he said.
“You will,” Gabriel said, and he leaned in to kiss his shoulder. “But first we gotta get you off this floor. It can't be good for your knees...You gonna hurl again?”
Weakly, Sam shook his head. “I don't think so...not right now.” Gabriel hooked his arms underneath Sam's, helping him to stand. It was no easy task; Sam's legs felt like jelly and he was no small guy, whereas Gabriel...well, was.
Slowly, they made their way to Sam's bed, and Sam collapsed onto the mattress with a soft groan, Gabriel pulling the blankets up over him and handing him his water bottle. “Drink,” he said. Sam accepted it and took a few tentative sips. At the very least, it didn't upset his stomach, and it did help to wash the taste out of his mouth a bit.
Something purple caught Sam's eye, and he glanced over at his other pillow, finding what looked like some kind of stuffed seal there. He arched one eyebrow as he took it, studying it intently. “What's this? A sea lion or something?”
“No!” Gabriel said, sounded almost as though he was offended by the very idea. “It's a manatee.”
“What, so are you gonna bring me a new stuffed animal every time I finish a cycle?”
“You make it sound like you're on your period.”
“God no. I don't need PMS on top of the chemo.” Despite how much he wanted to dissolve into the mattress, Sam felt a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Gabriel lay down next to him. He moved his arm to wrap around Gabriel's shoulders, and he held him close.
They slipped into a comfortable silence, Gabriel's nose buried in the crook of Sam's neck, and after a few minutes, Gabriel mumbled something. Sam hummed questioningly, and Gabriel sat up, repeating himself: “I saw your dad downstairs.”
“Shit...I forgot to tell you he was home...”
“Nah, it's okay.” He leaned forward again, resting his head on Sam's chest once more. “He was...nice, I guess. I think you were right...I think maybe he does like me. In his own weird way.”
Sam let out a weak laugh. “Told you.” Slowly, his tentative smile faded, replaced by a deep frown. “He looks really tired, doesn't he?”
“Of course he's tired. He's worried. His kid has cancer. Any parent would be.”
“I don't want him to be...”
“Well tough titties, Sammich. He's supposed to worry about you know? It's what dads do.”
“I know. I know...I just...It's gotta be so hard on him, with Dean off at school and my mom gone...” He sighed. “He looks like he's aged so much in just this one month...I feel like it's killing him to see me like this...” He choked up, his voice breaking, and he hid his face in the side of the stuffed manatee in his hands.
Gabriel leaned up, pressing his palm against Sam's jaw and cupping it gently. “Hey, hey...” he breathed, “Don't think like that, Sammich. He's your dad. He loves you, and yeah it probably hurts him to see you so sick, but it's not your fault. And he's a tough guy. He'll be okay. So you just concentrate on getting better, yeah? And your dad will be just fine too.”
Sam sniffled, trying to push his tears back, but they were persistent bastards, and they made his eyes burn still. “I miss her...my mom...” he said in a tiny voice after a moment's pause. “I barely even knew her...I was so little when she died, but I still miss her. My dad...he's being so amazing about all this. He really is, but there's just...there's something about having your mom around to hold your hand, you know?”
A tear slipped down his cheek, and Gabriel reached out to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. When Sam looked over at him, Gabriel was smiling at him, warmly. Slowly, he slid his hand over Sam's chest, grasping his hand, and lacing their fingers together. “You could let me do that,” he offered.
He gave Sam's hand a squeeze, and Sam gave one right back.
-
“So how many of these do you have to do again?” Gabriel asked as he watched the Dacarbazine drip, drip, drip into Sam's IV. It was the last of the meds he was getting for the day, and it always took the longest out of the big four. They'd been sitting in the hospital room for nearly half an hour, and Sam had his feet up on Gabriel's knees as Gabriel drew patterns on his white sneakers with a magic marker.
“Six cycles,” Sam said with a sigh. “That's twelve treatments...hopefully that'll be it.”
“Geez...hope so.” He stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing a fourth penis on the toe of Sam's shoe. Sam leaned up and furrowed his brow.
“Quit drawing dicks all over my shoe!”
“You're the one who gave me a marker and a blank canvas, Cue-ball.” He stared a moment before getting a wicked smirk on his face, and Sam frowned. A look like that never preceded anything good.
“What?” he asked dubiously. Instead of replying, Gabriel got up, letting Sam's feet drop onto the tile with a heavy thunk, and he wedged himself behind Sam's chair. “What are you doing?”
“Being artistic. Now ssh.” It wasn't two seconds after he spoke that Sam felt the damp, tickling drag of a magic marker tip being dragged across the skin over the crown of his head. He tried to pull away, but Gabriel just held him back.
“I swear to god if you draw penises on my head...” Gabriel just snickered. “Dude-!” He swatted at Gabriel's hand, but Gabriel just pressed onward.
“Hey! Do you want me to mess up?”
“I don't want to have cocks all over my scalp!”
Gabriel laughed at him and continued drawing. “When did you develop such an aversion to penises?”
“Well sue me for not wanting to walk around with badly drawn dicks all over my bald head.”
“What you mean badly drawn?” Gabriel huffed. “Just for that, I'm actually going to draw one on here. One big one, made out of a bunch of little ones.” Sam could barely suppress a laugh as Gabriel set to work, and though he was sure Gabriel would make good on that promise, he was having a hard time being upset about it.
Part 4 here.