fic: A Little Payback
Title: A Little Payback
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters, they belong to Kripke and co. This is just for fun, not profit. :D
Warnings: None... er, Mpreg. I think that might be a warning for some. *nod*
Word Count: 1,048
Summary: When there's an unexpected - and definitely awesome - side effect to being pregnant with the child of an Archangel-slash-Trickster Demi-God, Sam decides to have a little fun with it.
Notes: Written for the Prank Meme over at mpregwinchester. This is not beta'd and I've been out of state helping take care of my Grandma since last Wednesday and have only had a little bit of time to try and cobble something together for this thing. I apologize if this makes no sense whatsoever…
Snickering, Sam watches Dean out of the corner of his eye. His brother is grumbling about the grease covering his hands from working on the Impala for the last couple of hours. She's probably running like a dream again after her latest tune-up, but the car isn't what Sam's really focused on.
He waits until Dean is in the bathroom. Water starts to run, steaming up in the sink because his brother has an insane tolerance for hot water after he's finished working on the car (though he can't seem to stand it any other time unless he's sore from a hunt, but that hasn't been an issue for almost a year now). Concentrating as hard as he can on the bar of soap Sam knows is on the dish by the faucet, he snaps (and something powerful and unfamiliar tingles through him, lighter and nothing like the dark surge he'd felt with demon blood). It's quiet, as quiet as he can make it, and Dean doesn't even twitch.
He would love to do something big, something more epic to get Dean back with. A snap of his fingers and he thinks he could maybe even turn Dean's car bright red; a shade to match the dye his brother snuck into his hair-dye the day before. But since he'd discovered this little side effect of having an Archangel's baby growing inside of him, he hasn't tried anything larger than some of the things he's seen Gabriel do on a regular basis; snapping up a candy bar or a bowl of ice cream topped with everything he's craving.
Something small will, hopefully, also keep things from escalating too far, too fast.
Maybe.
His brother picks up the soap and starts to run it between his hands, lathering away. Only the suds Dean is obviously expecting never foam up to catch the grease and get rid of it. The bar is wet and slick like it should be, but nothing else happens.
"What the…?" his brother grumbles, confusion creasing his forehead. He starts rubbing at the golden bar faster.
"Something wrong, Dean?" Sam asks, fighting to keep a straight face. His voice shakes a little with the effort of holding in the laughter bubbling in his chest, though. When Dean turns to face him, the confusion melts away into understanding.
"You did something to the soap!" he accuses, pointing a still oil greased finger in his direction.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Sam says with a shrug, picking up one of the magazines on the table. He snorts when he gets a look at the front of it. Gabriel's taken to snapping up tons of baby things; magazines and books and movies (Three Men and a Baby was particularly amusing and surprisingly informative). The magazine in his hand has a belly on the front, rounded and obviously carrying and Sam's hand automatically drifts to his own, slightly rounded stomach.
Dean is still watching him; he's right in Sam's peripherals. When he glances over, his brother is wearing an odd mix of expressions with his frustrated scowl, but soft eyes. He's still pointing a finger at Sam.
"Don't think that just because you're… you're," he trips over the words that Sam knows he still has trouble associating his little brother with. "That, that I'll go easy on you."
Sam snorts.
"Don't forget who started it," he sing-songs, flipping through the magazine casually.
With a huff, Dean stomps out of the room. He's heading towards the stairs, probably going to the bathroom attached to his bedroom to wash his hands up there. Another snap of Sam's fingers and the rest of the bars of soap in the house are the same as the one in the downstairs bathroom. Sam stifles his laughter against his fist, biting down on his knuckles and continuing to flip through the magazine in his lap.
He's still chuckling to himself, halfway through an article about the pros and cons of formula when there's a soft snap signaling the arrival of his angel.
"What's the joke and why aren't I in on it?"
Gabriel is a line of warmth at his side and Sam automatically shifts to accommodate him, wrapping a long arm over the angel's shoulders and pulling him close.
"Just a little payback," he says with a contented sigh when one of Gabriel's hands finds its way under his shirt to rest over his belly. Sam leans down until he can rest his cheek against Gabriel's hair. He breathes in the familiar, sweet mint and chocolate scent of his lover and smiles.
Dean comes thumping back down the stairs, irritation coloring every shift of muscle. He barely pauses to threaten a frustrated, "Don't think I won't get you back," before he disappears into the kitchen. It's the only room in the house with any kind of liquid soap and Sam can't hold in his laughter at how long it took his brother to think of that.
Gabriel shifts, tilting his head so that Sam has to move his own back a little. There's a soft press of lips just beneath his jaw and Sam can feel his lover's smile. Warm fingers glide in random (or maybe not so random, he still isn't as familiar with Enochian symbols as he wants to be) lines over the skin of his stomach. "What'd you do?"
Sam shrugs, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth (one he's picked up from his lover, much to Dean's annoyance). "Just a little clear nail polish on his soap."
"Clever," Gabriel muses, chuckling into Sam's neck.
Sam knows he should tell Gabriel exactly how he pulled the prank; explain that about a week ago he realized that with the snap of his fingers he can conjure up little things here and there. But he thinks he's going to wait just a bit longer. This prank war is probably going to last awhile and he knows that he isn't safe from getting tricked by his lover anymore now than he'd been when they first got together.
It'll be fun getting to prank the Trickster for once.
END
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters, they belong to Kripke and co. This is just for fun, not profit. :D
Warnings: None... er, Mpreg. I think that might be a warning for some. *nod*
Word Count: 1,048
Summary: When there's an unexpected - and definitely awesome - side effect to being pregnant with the child of an Archangel-slash-Trickster Demi-God, Sam decides to have a little fun with it.
Notes: Written for the Prank Meme over at mpregwinchester. This is not beta'd and I've been out of state helping take care of my Grandma since last Wednesday and have only had a little bit of time to try and cobble something together for this thing. I apologize if this makes no sense whatsoever…
Snickering, Sam watches Dean out of the corner of his eye. His brother is grumbling about the grease covering his hands from working on the Impala for the last couple of hours. She's probably running like a dream again after her latest tune-up, but the car isn't what Sam's really focused on.
He waits until Dean is in the bathroom. Water starts to run, steaming up in the sink because his brother has an insane tolerance for hot water after he's finished working on the car (though he can't seem to stand it any other time unless he's sore from a hunt, but that hasn't been an issue for almost a year now). Concentrating as hard as he can on the bar of soap Sam knows is on the dish by the faucet, he snaps (and something powerful and unfamiliar tingles through him, lighter and nothing like the dark surge he'd felt with demon blood). It's quiet, as quiet as he can make it, and Dean doesn't even twitch.
He would love to do something big, something more epic to get Dean back with. A snap of his fingers and he thinks he could maybe even turn Dean's car bright red; a shade to match the dye his brother snuck into his hair-dye the day before. But since he'd discovered this little side effect of having an Archangel's baby growing inside of him, he hasn't tried anything larger than some of the things he's seen Gabriel do on a regular basis; snapping up a candy bar or a bowl of ice cream topped with everything he's craving.
Something small will, hopefully, also keep things from escalating too far, too fast.
Maybe.
His brother picks up the soap and starts to run it between his hands, lathering away. Only the suds Dean is obviously expecting never foam up to catch the grease and get rid of it. The bar is wet and slick like it should be, but nothing else happens.
"What the…?" his brother grumbles, confusion creasing his forehead. He starts rubbing at the golden bar faster.
"Something wrong, Dean?" Sam asks, fighting to keep a straight face. His voice shakes a little with the effort of holding in the laughter bubbling in his chest, though. When Dean turns to face him, the confusion melts away into understanding.
"You did something to the soap!" he accuses, pointing a still oil greased finger in his direction.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Sam says with a shrug, picking up one of the magazines on the table. He snorts when he gets a look at the front of it. Gabriel's taken to snapping up tons of baby things; magazines and books and movies (Three Men and a Baby was particularly amusing and surprisingly informative). The magazine in his hand has a belly on the front, rounded and obviously carrying and Sam's hand automatically drifts to his own, slightly rounded stomach.
Dean is still watching him; he's right in Sam's peripherals. When he glances over, his brother is wearing an odd mix of expressions with his frustrated scowl, but soft eyes. He's still pointing a finger at Sam.
"Don't think that just because you're… you're," he trips over the words that Sam knows he still has trouble associating his little brother with. "That, that I'll go easy on you."
Sam snorts.
"Don't forget who started it," he sing-songs, flipping through the magazine casually.
With a huff, Dean stomps out of the room. He's heading towards the stairs, probably going to the bathroom attached to his bedroom to wash his hands up there. Another snap of Sam's fingers and the rest of the bars of soap in the house are the same as the one in the downstairs bathroom. Sam stifles his laughter against his fist, biting down on his knuckles and continuing to flip through the magazine in his lap.
He's still chuckling to himself, halfway through an article about the pros and cons of formula when there's a soft snap signaling the arrival of his angel.
"What's the joke and why aren't I in on it?"
Gabriel is a line of warmth at his side and Sam automatically shifts to accommodate him, wrapping a long arm over the angel's shoulders and pulling him close.
"Just a little payback," he says with a contented sigh when one of Gabriel's hands finds its way under his shirt to rest over his belly. Sam leans down until he can rest his cheek against Gabriel's hair. He breathes in the familiar, sweet mint and chocolate scent of his lover and smiles.
Dean comes thumping back down the stairs, irritation coloring every shift of muscle. He barely pauses to threaten a frustrated, "Don't think I won't get you back," before he disappears into the kitchen. It's the only room in the house with any kind of liquid soap and Sam can't hold in his laughter at how long it took his brother to think of that.
Gabriel shifts, tilting his head so that Sam has to move his own back a little. There's a soft press of lips just beneath his jaw and Sam can feel his lover's smile. Warm fingers glide in random (or maybe not so random, he still isn't as familiar with Enochian symbols as he wants to be) lines over the skin of his stomach. "What'd you do?"
Sam shrugs, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth (one he's picked up from his lover, much to Dean's annoyance). "Just a little clear nail polish on his soap."
"Clever," Gabriel muses, chuckling into Sam's neck.
Sam knows he should tell Gabriel exactly how he pulled the prank; explain that about a week ago he realized that with the snap of his fingers he can conjure up little things here and there. But he thinks he's going to wait just a bit longer. This prank war is probably going to last awhile and he knows that he isn't safe from getting tricked by his lover anymore now than he'd been when they first got together.
It'll be fun getting to prank the Trickster for once.
END