fic: The Concept of Personal Space - Sam/Gabriel, Rating: PG
Title: The Concept of Personal Space
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Spoilers: If you know who Gabriel is, you're good.
Warnings: pining!Sam
Word Count: 826
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Sam is sick of how Gabriel seems to have no concept of personal space...
Notes: So I wrote a pining!Sam fic a little while back as a comment!fic (Too Much to Ask?). And I didn't want to leave it there. Somehow my muse decided she wants to draw out Sam's pining even more. Dunno how many more of these I'll write. Also, big thanks to my idea girl, who gave me a ton of great titles to choose from when naming this was kickin' my butt. *hugs*
The damn archangel was at it again. Messing with his head, screwing with him. Sam didn't care that Gabriel had no idea what being shoulder to shoulder was doing to him - apparently archangels had no concept of personal space. He was sick of having to deal with such a touchy-feely angel, being so close to him all the time, while knowing he couldn't really touch back. It was infuriating. All Sam really wanted to do was lean against the warmth next to him, but he still had enough sense to keep himself under control.
It's not his fault, Sam thought to himself as Gabriel somehow seemed to move closer in the small booth. Sam grit his teeth against the urge to scream at the archangel and tried keeping his attention on the menu he was holding in a death-grip. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the items listed in front of him, determined to ignore anything around him. Turned out to be harder than he'd planned.
And if Sam wasn't worried about what Castiel might do to him, he would have probably tried stabbing Dean with his fork just to wipe the knowing smirk off his face. The one that appeared when Sam practically jumped out of his own skin as Gabriel's leg brushed against his under the table. He felt heat rush to his face, wishing the ground would just swallow him up. Thankfully the archangel was only adjusting his position in the booth and his leg moved from Sam's after a moment. The younger Winchester silently cursed himself when he found that he already missed the warmth of the angel's leg pressed against his, but was thankful when no one said anything about his odd behavior - even more thankful when Gabriel only looked at him curiously for a moment before turning back to his own menu.
Sam didn't understand why Gabriel insisted on looking at the menu of every diner they went to. He always ordered chocolate chip pancakes wherever they went. Then flooded them in maple syrup, switched it up with strawberry syrup some days though and if it was later in the day he'd order a chocolate shake and... No Sam berrated himself. Because it wasn't bad enough that he always noticed just how close the archangel was? Now he knew exactly what he ordered and how he ordered it and at what time of day?
He shook the thoughts away, told himself that's what he did anyway, when the waitress finally came and took their orders. Sam was sure he was going to go insane if he didn't find a way to deal with this crazy crush of his. He wondered how weird it would look it he just banged his head against the table a couple times - maybe that would help him get rid of the fourteen year old girl that seemed to be inhabiting him and making him think and feel these things. Because Winchesters don't do crushes, they just don't. It was pathetic. He is pathetic, Sam groaned inwardly. He decided against bashing his head into the table, it would probably just give Mr-I-Can't-Keep-My-Angel-Hands-to-Myself yet another excuse to touch him and he just couldn't deal with that, deciding instead to just rest his elbow on the table, leaning his head into his left hand, drumming the fingers of his right against the table impatiently.
He didn't even pay attention when the waitress set his waffles in front of him, focused solely on the dull thud of his fingers against the table. He huffed out a breath, reaching for the syrup at the center of the table - and promptly froze when he felt Gabriel's hand rest over his on the bottle. He swallowed, hoping it wasn't nearly as loud as it sounded to his ears and darted his eyes to see his and Gabriel's hands interlocked on the syrup before shifting his gaze to the archangel next to him. And damn him, the angel looked completely unfazed, even as Sam slowly pulled his hand back and rested it against the table next to his plate, attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat and wishing he could just catch a break. Because he didn't know what was worse; Gabriel being completely unaware of anything or Dean's barely muffled laughter across the table.
Sam barely had time to contemplate that before Gabriel, who had finished drowning his own pancakes in syrup, moved to pour some over Sam's waffles. He'd really wanted to be annoyed at the angel for just assuming that would be okay, but was too preoccupied trying to quell the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the blush climbing up his neck. It didn't seem like things could get worse, but then Gabriel turned and smiled at him. A real smile, no sign of a smirk. And, oh yeah, Sam thought as he felt a returning grin form on his own face, he is so screwed.
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Spoilers: If you know who Gabriel is, you're good.
Warnings: pining!Sam
Word Count: 826
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Sam is sick of how Gabriel seems to have no concept of personal space...
Notes: So I wrote a pining!Sam fic a little while back as a comment!fic (Too Much to Ask?). And I didn't want to leave it there. Somehow my muse decided she wants to draw out Sam's pining even more. Dunno how many more of these I'll write. Also, big thanks to my idea girl, who gave me a ton of great titles to choose from when naming this was kickin' my butt. *hugs*
The damn archangel was at it again. Messing with his head, screwing with him. Sam didn't care that Gabriel had no idea what being shoulder to shoulder was doing to him - apparently archangels had no concept of personal space. He was sick of having to deal with such a touchy-feely angel, being so close to him all the time, while knowing he couldn't really touch back. It was infuriating. All Sam really wanted to do was lean against the warmth next to him, but he still had enough sense to keep himself under control.
It's not his fault, Sam thought to himself as Gabriel somehow seemed to move closer in the small booth. Sam grit his teeth against the urge to scream at the archangel and tried keeping his attention on the menu he was holding in a death-grip. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the items listed in front of him, determined to ignore anything around him. Turned out to be harder than he'd planned.
And if Sam wasn't worried about what Castiel might do to him, he would have probably tried stabbing Dean with his fork just to wipe the knowing smirk off his face. The one that appeared when Sam practically jumped out of his own skin as Gabriel's leg brushed against his under the table. He felt heat rush to his face, wishing the ground would just swallow him up. Thankfully the archangel was only adjusting his position in the booth and his leg moved from Sam's after a moment. The younger Winchester silently cursed himself when he found that he already missed the warmth of the angel's leg pressed against his, but was thankful when no one said anything about his odd behavior - even more thankful when Gabriel only looked at him curiously for a moment before turning back to his own menu.
Sam didn't understand why Gabriel insisted on looking at the menu of every diner they went to. He always ordered chocolate chip pancakes wherever they went. Then flooded them in maple syrup, switched it up with strawberry syrup some days though and if it was later in the day he'd order a chocolate shake and... No Sam berrated himself. Because it wasn't bad enough that he always noticed just how close the archangel was? Now he knew exactly what he ordered and how he ordered it and at what time of day?
He shook the thoughts away, told himself that's what he did anyway, when the waitress finally came and took their orders. Sam was sure he was going to go insane if he didn't find a way to deal with this crazy crush of his. He wondered how weird it would look it he just banged his head against the table a couple times - maybe that would help him get rid of the fourteen year old girl that seemed to be inhabiting him and making him think and feel these things. Because Winchesters don't do crushes, they just don't. It was pathetic. He is pathetic, Sam groaned inwardly. He decided against bashing his head into the table, it would probably just give Mr-I-Can't-Keep-My-Angel-Hands-to-Myself yet another excuse to touch him and he just couldn't deal with that, deciding instead to just rest his elbow on the table, leaning his head into his left hand, drumming the fingers of his right against the table impatiently.
He didn't even pay attention when the waitress set his waffles in front of him, focused solely on the dull thud of his fingers against the table. He huffed out a breath, reaching for the syrup at the center of the table - and promptly froze when he felt Gabriel's hand rest over his on the bottle. He swallowed, hoping it wasn't nearly as loud as it sounded to his ears and darted his eyes to see his and Gabriel's hands interlocked on the syrup before shifting his gaze to the archangel next to him. And damn him, the angel looked completely unfazed, even as Sam slowly pulled his hand back and rested it against the table next to his plate, attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat and wishing he could just catch a break. Because he didn't know what was worse; Gabriel being completely unaware of anything or Dean's barely muffled laughter across the table.
Sam barely had time to contemplate that before Gabriel, who had finished drowning his own pancakes in syrup, moved to pour some over Sam's waffles. He'd really wanted to be annoyed at the angel for just assuming that would be okay, but was too preoccupied trying to quell the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the blush climbing up his neck. It didn't seem like things could get worse, but then Gabriel turned and smiled at him. A real smile, no sign of a smirk. And, oh yeah, Sam thought as he felt a returning grin form on his own face, he is so screwed.