Who else was he going to be drawn to, but a soul that bright, that aching? Gabriel had meant for it to only be a one-night incident, a little fun and move on, like most of his encounters. There was something terribly vulnerable about the hunter, something Gabriel just couldn't walk away from. He'd left him triple his asking fee and took wing before Dean could protest
( ... )
"'Interesting.' That's the first time I've heard that used." He has no idea what it's supposed to mean, either.
He has no idea what the holy fire is for. and even if he did... well, angels aren't real. Even if they were, he knows he'd be one of the forsaken. One of the ants under the magnifying glass.
But angels aren't real, or he wouldn't be where he is right now. A loy of things wouldn't have happened.
The runes shattering under his touch starts ringing alarm bells. Demon? "you say the name like it's supposed to mean something."
No. Take it back. Call yourself Loki and let him think you're someone else. "Do the math, kiddo. You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."
He kept moving around the room, snapping sigils and getting rid of any sort of dangerous magical leftovers. He didn't listen to anyone else's advice, why would he start listening to his own? Nope, he'd rather out himself as the lost archangel to a paid lay-slash-hunter-slash intriguing soul.
Lu was right. He never was that bright when it came to matters of the heart.
He watches him snapping the sigils, mind keep whirring back to that. No, it's not possible. This guy was just a nut, that's all. Because even with evidence around him, the idea is just ridiculous.
Angel's don't exist. He's holding that fact close to his heart. Because at least of they don't exist and God doesn't exist, everything makes so much more sense. Not a lot of sense in general, but way more sense than if they did.
"I have two guesses. Either you're a nut and you actually believe what you're trying to sell, or you just had religious parents. Not like you're the only guy with that name." He sighs a little bitterly. This thing is dredging up way more feelings than he cares for. "Whatever. I officially don't care. Quit following around, leave me alone." Even if, he realises, it might be a little saddening to not have the guy there at the next place. He'd become a kind of sick constant, something that he knows he shouldn't be happy to see, and yet he is.
Sorry, Dean. Gabriel knows he's already too far gone to do something like that.
He pulls a little blue plastic kazoo out of his pocket, holding it up. The air around it seems to shift and shimmer, forming into an ancient horn, lovingly crafted to fit perfectly into his hands. The horn of an archangel. "Now. Do I need to break out the wings and the whole schtick?"
Suicide. This is frigging suicide outing himself like this. Michael was going to drag his ass back to Heaven in chains.
"No. No, no, no. This is... this is not happening. It can't be." He backs away, as if heading for the door but stopping short Just giving himself room to freak out a little. He knows it's kind of sad that he can't believe in the flip side of the coin although he knows about demons and monsters. But if the 'good' side of the coin was there, people wouldn't be living like this; he wouldn't be like this. "It's not you that's the nut; it's me. I've finally snapped. Or a client's slipped me something again. That's all this is."
Definietly more trying to convince himself. And it's not working.
Patiently, Gabriel watches Dean run through all the ways that this isn't happening. "Breathe, Dean. In and out. You're gonna hyperventilate."
He hops on the altar, trying to look as unassuming as possible. A warm current of grace twines around Dean, looking to soothe him. "C'mere, kiddo. You know me. I'm not gonna hurt you."
The warm feeling felt like that which lingered after every time Gabriel had left after one of their sessions. It was so familiar in this shitstorm of confusion he couldn't help but relax into it. Well, enough that he wasn't nearly hyperventilating, anyway. "I don't, though. Not now. But don't worry, I'm getting kind of used to this shit happening." He means getting to know or caring for someone, and them either not being what they make themselves out to be, or finding out they've been lying to him. A lot
( ... )
Gabriel sighed. "Questions like that are going to require a profound amount of alcohol. And you're asking some that even I don't have the answers to."
He hopped down from the altar, approaching Dean. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms and soothe away his distress, his upset.
"But in answer to the big one? Because if Heaven got wind of where I was, Michael will be hauling my ass back home in chains, and he won't hesitate to flambe your ass in the process. Lame, but it was to protect you, Dean. Protect you from forces that you aren't ready to go toe to toe against."
"I'm also still the guy who loves to suck bruises into your neck and kiss my way down your spine." Touches that had less to do with sex and more to do with want.
"I can deal with anything. Except your terrible cliche." He... mostly believes that. Dean doesn't move away from Gabriel, holding his gaze intensly, even through the earlier sarcasm in response to the lame 'to protect you'. "I don't need protecting. Haven't for a long time. But... you going home would be bad
( ... )
“Gee, thanks, Dean.” His sarcasm is muted as he lets Dean hold his eyes. Gabriel lets warmth and affection fill his gaze, reaching out to take his hands. “Everyone needs protection. Even angels.”
One stomach-lurching moment later, they’re sitting in the corner booth of a bar, a bottle of whiskey between them on the table. “First thing’s first. I didn’t keep coming back to you just for your skill in the sack, so get that thought out of your head right now, kiddo. There’s a lot more to you than the hot hunter with self-esteem issues. It quit being about paying for you after the first night. The money was to make sure you had enough to eat and keep a roof over your head. So’s the enchantment on that jacket of yours.”
What he wasn’t ready to admit was that he kept coming back to Dean because Dean made him feel warm and alive for the first time in centuries. “You’re not a man who accepts help or charity, Dean. I had to take care of you somehow. And maybe I needed you too.”
It takes his stomach a few moments to catch up to his body, or at least, it feels like that. "Jesus. Little warning next time?" He'd stand up, but he doesn't think his legs would support him right now. So he just reaches for the whiskey instead, pouring himself a generous measure.
He takes his first mouthful, trying to puzzle his way around what Gabriel's saying to him. It's not correlating with eveyrthing that he has in his head about himself and the job. And more - why the hell would an angel need him. He sighs as he places the glass down. "What are you doing? What the hell kind of game are you playing here?"
Gabriel downed a shot. What’s he doing here? He has no everloving clue.
“I like games as much as the next guy, kiddo. But not this time.” It had started out as a lark, finding a hunter who was hooking on the side for some extra cash, one who’d never know who he was dragging back to a cheap motel room. “No games, no tricks.” He holds up two fingers. “Angel’s honor.”
He settles his hand on Dean’s wrist, a calming gesture. “Why do you think I’ve always been there when you make your way out to a corner? Hire you for a whole night instead of a few hours and leave you enough to get by on for almost a month? Maybe I’m selfish and I don’t like sharing what’s important to me. Maybe I want to take care of you and that’s the only way you’d let me.”
Gabriel is seized with an impulse to bite his lower lip, then suck on it. Somehow, he restrains himself and waits for Dean to react.
He looks down at the hand on his wrist, stamping down on the urge to take it in his own. He wonders if he knows what he does with the extra, keeping enough to live as he has been and putting the rest away for Sam. He wonders if knowing that was the case if he'd stilll pay so much, seeing as it's 'him' he wants to live comfortably.
It's getting hard to resist. he's telling himself it's all pretty words, but they are pretty words he wants to believe. So very badly. wanting to believe he could be wanted, not left behind again, but not quiet believing that that's the case. It's not like anybody else has wanted him beyond the corner, for reasons that are not his business. "That's a whole lot of 'maybe's. If you knew me well enough, you'd know I find 'Maybe' pretty damned irritating." He needs something a little more concrete, instead of always with the maybe's.
"And if you knew me well enough, you'd know that commitments like that scare the hell out of me," he shot back, shifting their hands to thread his fingers with Dean's.
What does he do if Dean turns him away?
Nothing ventured, right?
"I'd pay for a full night because I hate the idea of someone else touching you, your hands on someone else. Because I'm selfish and somewhere along the way I started thinking of you as mine. Mine to touch, mine to take care of. Not just to fuck and walk away from, Dean. More than that."
"I whispered enchantments into your jacket to keep you warm when I wasn't there. Gave you enough so you could eat and stay safe."
"So.. yeah. No maybes. Just a lot of scary, scary truths," his laugh is shaky as he downs a shot.
Well, that was more than a few 'maybe's. That was a whole lot of commitments, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to fall into them or run screaming from them. Gabriel wasn't the only one scared of commitments like that, mostly because every time he did, he got burnt.
He looked down at the interlocked fingers. maybe he didn't just fall into them, but took it easy... And the first sign he got that he was being played, he could get gone. Back to the glass with his free hand, swallowing the rest of the amber liquid
( ... )
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He has no idea what the holy fire is for. and even if he did... well, angels aren't real. Even if they were, he knows he'd be one of the forsaken. One of the ants under the magnifying glass.
But angels aren't real, or he wouldn't be where he is right now. A loy of things wouldn't have happened.
The runes shattering under his touch starts ringing alarm bells. Demon? "you say the name like it's supposed to mean something."
Reply
He kept moving around the room, snapping sigils and getting rid of any sort of dangerous magical leftovers. He didn't listen to anyone else's advice, why would he start listening to his own? Nope, he'd rather out himself as the lost archangel to a paid lay-slash-hunter-slash intriguing soul.
Lu was right. He never was that bright when it came to matters of the heart.
Reply
Angel's don't exist. He's holding that fact close to his heart. Because at least of they don't exist and God doesn't exist, everything makes so much more sense. Not a lot of sense in general, but way more sense than if they did.
"I have two guesses. Either you're a nut and you actually believe what you're trying to sell, or you just had religious parents. Not like you're the only guy with that name." He sighs a little bitterly. This thing is dredging up way more feelings than he cares for. "Whatever. I officially don't care. Quit following around, leave me alone." Even if, he realises, it might be a little saddening to not have the guy there at the next place. He'd become a kind of sick constant, something that he knows he shouldn't be happy to see, and yet he is.
Reply
He pulls a little blue plastic kazoo out of his pocket, holding it up. The air around it seems to shift and shimmer, forming into an ancient horn, lovingly crafted to fit perfectly into his hands. The horn of an archangel. "Now. Do I need to break out the wings and the whole schtick?"
Suicide. This is frigging suicide outing himself like this. Michael was going to drag his ass back to Heaven in chains.
Reply
Definietly more trying to convince himself. And it's not working.
Reply
He hops on the altar, trying to look as unassuming as possible. A warm current of grace twines around Dean, looking to soothe him. "C'mere, kiddo. You know me. I'm not gonna hurt you."
Reply
Reply
He hopped down from the altar, approaching Dean. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms and soothe away his distress, his upset.
"But in answer to the big one? Because if Heaven got wind of where I was, Michael will be hauling my ass back home in chains, and he won't hesitate to flambe your ass in the process. Lame, but it was to protect you, Dean. Protect you from forces that you aren't ready to go toe to toe against."
"I'm also still the guy who loves to suck bruises into your neck and kiss my way down your spine." Touches that had less to do with sex and more to do with want.
Reply
Reply
One stomach-lurching moment later, they’re sitting in the corner booth of a bar, a bottle of whiskey between them on the table. “First thing’s first. I didn’t keep coming back to you just for your skill in the sack, so get that thought out of your head right now, kiddo. There’s a lot more to you than the hot hunter with self-esteem issues. It quit being about paying for you after the first night. The money was to make sure you had enough to eat and keep a roof over your head. So’s the enchantment on that jacket of yours.”
What he wasn’t ready to admit was that he kept coming back to Dean because Dean made him feel warm and alive for the first time in centuries. “You’re not a man who accepts help or charity, Dean. I had to take care of you somehow. And maybe I needed you too.”
Reply
He takes his first mouthful, trying to puzzle his way around what Gabriel's saying to him. It's not correlating with eveyrthing that he has in his head about himself and the job. And more - why the hell would an angel need him. He sighs as he places the glass down. "What are you doing? What the hell kind of game are you playing here?"
Reply
“I like games as much as the next guy, kiddo. But not this time.” It had started out as a lark, finding a hunter who was hooking on the side for some extra cash, one who’d never know who he was dragging back to a cheap motel room. “No games, no tricks.” He holds up two fingers. “Angel’s honor.”
He settles his hand on Dean’s wrist, a calming gesture. “Why do you think I’ve always been there when you make your way out to a corner? Hire you for a whole night instead of a few hours and leave you enough to get by on for almost a month? Maybe I’m selfish and I don’t like sharing what’s important to me. Maybe I want to take care of you and that’s the only way you’d let me.”
Gabriel is seized with an impulse to bite his lower lip, then suck on it. Somehow, he restrains himself and waits for Dean to react.
Reply
It's getting hard to resist. he's telling himself it's all pretty words, but they are pretty words he wants to believe. So very badly. wanting to believe he could be wanted, not left behind again, but not quiet believing that that's the case. It's not like anybody else has wanted him beyond the corner, for reasons that are not his business. "That's a whole lot of 'maybe's. If you knew me well enough, you'd know I find 'Maybe' pretty damned irritating." He needs something a little more concrete, instead of always with the maybe's.
Reply
What does he do if Dean turns him away?
Nothing ventured, right?
"I'd pay for a full night because I hate the idea of someone else touching you, your hands on someone else. Because I'm selfish and somewhere along the way I started thinking of you as mine. Mine to touch, mine to take care of. Not just to fuck and walk away from, Dean. More than that."
"I whispered enchantments into your jacket to keep you warm when I wasn't there. Gave you enough so you could eat and stay safe."
"So.. yeah. No maybes. Just a lot of scary, scary truths," his laugh is shaky as he downs a shot.
Reply
He looked down at the interlocked fingers. maybe he didn't just fall into them, but took it easy... And the first sign he got that he was being played, he could get gone. Back to the glass with his free hand, swallowing the rest of the amber liquid ( ... )
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