Langue De L'amour [Sam/Gabe]
Title: Langue De L'Amour
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Warnings: Bad french, and poor prompt filling
Words: 700
Summary: Prompt: “Sam gets hit with a curse that makes him only intelligible to Gabriel.”
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: So, I'm going to openly admit that this...this is the worst thing I've ever written *facepalm*. I struggled with the prompt sooo epically, seriously, you should have seen me pulling my hair out over it. So I apologize to mithrel for failing with her imaginitive prompt!
"Je jure que je ne sais pas même cette langue, Dean!" Sam was flailing with his hands, talking a mile a minute, and all Dean could hear was...a whole lot of sounds.
"It's a curse, Dean." Castiel's voice was low and serious. He frowned when Dean rolled his eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." He was frustrated and tense about the whole situation. He knew it was curse, and Sam had been hit about six hours ago. Dean hadn't understood a word that had come out of his mouth since. Unfortunately, Cas didn't either.
"Okay, Sam, seriously....shut the fuck up." Why did it seem like foreign people talked way more than was necessary?
Dean sighed loudly and turned his back to the height challenged archangel who appeared in the room. Great. Another talkative idiot.
Sam jumped up from the bed immediately, blabbing on and on in some unknown language. Gabriel raised an eyebrow as Sam grabbed at his shoulders, shaking him desperately.
Gabriel smirked incredulously at Sam.
"It's a curse." Castiel was good at explaining that much, it seemed.
"Sammy...." Gabriel's tone was mocking and playful as he grinned at Sam.
Dean slumped into the chair across the room, covering one hand over his eyes as he listen to Sam's voice drone on and on. Why was he even still trying?
"Yeah, sure."
"Dites-lui en ce moment!"
"Okay, okay!"
Dean stiffened in his chair as he realized that Sam and Gabriel were talking. To each other. With each other.
"You can understand him?" His question came out sounding more like a plea, but he didn't care. He had no clue where Sam picked up this curse, or how long it would last, or why he even got hit with it in the first place. A translator was sort of necessary, even if it meant he had to go through Gabriel.
"Sure can, Dean-o. He wants you to know that he can't understand English right now."
Dean rolled his eyes. It was worse than he thought. "So what the hell is he even speaking?"
"French. Language of love." Gabriel singsonged as dropped down on Sam's bed, tugging Sam down to sit beside him. Dean waited impatiently, watching as Gabriel and Sam spoke to each other softly. Sam's drop in tone was nice, that much was true. But Dean didn't have the patience for their stupid hushed conversations right now.
"Gabriel, seriously..." Dean was pretty sure if he rolled his eyes one more time, something in his head was going to break.
"He says that he looked it up, and it wears off after twelve hours." Gabriel sighed, as if it was the most obvious information he'd ever delivered.
"Okay...okay. Twelve hours." Dean counted ahead on the clock, wincing at the thought of another six hours of...French Sam.
That was really the most important information for now, so Dean just focused on cleaning his gun as Gabriel and Sam talked quietly on the bed. It took a stupid amount of time for Gabriel's words to finally hit him.
"Huh..." He stopped his motions, looking up at Gabriel, who was leaning heavily against Sam's side. "You said...you said he can't understand English, Gabriel."
Gabriel didn't move away from Sam. Instead, he just turned his head, shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I'm aware."
"So then...how is it that he understands your English?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, feeling slightly suspicious.
"Oh, it's not the English he understands. It's me." Gabriel smiled. It was warm and real, and Dean was pretty sure he'd never seen it before.
"It's...you..." Dean rolled the words back to him, noting that they made even less sense the second time around.
"I don't know French either, Dean."
Dean didn't reply, letting the silence fill the room as Sam slid down on the bed, pulling Gabriel to rest against his chest. He tried to look away, never a fan of watching them do stupid sappy shit like that, but he saw it anyway. Sam tangled his fingers in Gabriel's on his chest, and it all made to sense to Dean suddenly as they spoke.
"Je t'aime."
"I love you too, Sam."
-End-
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Warnings: Bad french, and poor prompt filling
Words: 700
Summary: Prompt: “Sam gets hit with a curse that makes him only intelligible to Gabriel.”
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: So, I'm going to openly admit that this...this is the worst thing I've ever written *facepalm*. I struggled with the prompt sooo epically, seriously, you should have seen me pulling my hair out over it. So I apologize to mithrel for failing with her imaginitive prompt!
"Je jure que je ne sais pas même cette langue, Dean!" Sam was flailing with his hands, talking a mile a minute, and all Dean could hear was...a whole lot of sounds.
"It's a curse, Dean." Castiel's voice was low and serious. He frowned when Dean rolled his eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." He was frustrated and tense about the whole situation. He knew it was curse, and Sam had been hit about six hours ago. Dean hadn't understood a word that had come out of his mouth since. Unfortunately, Cas didn't either.
"Okay, Sam, seriously....shut the fuck up." Why did it seem like foreign people talked way more than was necessary?
Dean sighed loudly and turned his back to the height challenged archangel who appeared in the room. Great. Another talkative idiot.
Sam jumped up from the bed immediately, blabbing on and on in some unknown language. Gabriel raised an eyebrow as Sam grabbed at his shoulders, shaking him desperately.
Gabriel smirked incredulously at Sam.
"It's a curse." Castiel was good at explaining that much, it seemed.
"Sammy...." Gabriel's tone was mocking and playful as he grinned at Sam.
Dean slumped into the chair across the room, covering one hand over his eyes as he listen to Sam's voice drone on and on. Why was he even still trying?
"Yeah, sure."
"Dites-lui en ce moment!"
"Okay, okay!"
Dean stiffened in his chair as he realized that Sam and Gabriel were talking. To each other. With each other.
"You can understand him?" His question came out sounding more like a plea, but he didn't care. He had no clue where Sam picked up this curse, or how long it would last, or why he even got hit with it in the first place. A translator was sort of necessary, even if it meant he had to go through Gabriel.
"Sure can, Dean-o. He wants you to know that he can't understand English right now."
Dean rolled his eyes. It was worse than he thought. "So what the hell is he even speaking?"
"French. Language of love." Gabriel singsonged as dropped down on Sam's bed, tugging Sam down to sit beside him. Dean waited impatiently, watching as Gabriel and Sam spoke to each other softly. Sam's drop in tone was nice, that much was true. But Dean didn't have the patience for their stupid hushed conversations right now.
"Gabriel, seriously..." Dean was pretty sure if he rolled his eyes one more time, something in his head was going to break.
"He says that he looked it up, and it wears off after twelve hours." Gabriel sighed, as if it was the most obvious information he'd ever delivered.
"Okay...okay. Twelve hours." Dean counted ahead on the clock, wincing at the thought of another six hours of...French Sam.
That was really the most important information for now, so Dean just focused on cleaning his gun as Gabriel and Sam talked quietly on the bed. It took a stupid amount of time for Gabriel's words to finally hit him.
"Huh..." He stopped his motions, looking up at Gabriel, who was leaning heavily against Sam's side. "You said...you said he can't understand English, Gabriel."
Gabriel didn't move away from Sam. Instead, he just turned his head, shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I'm aware."
"So then...how is it that he understands your English?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, feeling slightly suspicious.
"Oh, it's not the English he understands. It's me." Gabriel smiled. It was warm and real, and Dean was pretty sure he'd never seen it before.
"It's...you..." Dean rolled the words back to him, noting that they made even less sense the second time around.
"I don't know French either, Dean."
Dean didn't reply, letting the silence fill the room as Sam slid down on the bed, pulling Gabriel to rest against his chest. He tried to look away, never a fan of watching them do stupid sappy shit like that, but he saw it anyway. Sam tangled his fingers in Gabriel's on his chest, and it all made to sense to Dean suddenly as they spoke.
"Je t'aime."
"I love you too, Sam."
-End-