I'm Playing On The Radio
Title: I’m Playing On The Radio
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: T
Word Count: 4498
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Dean Winchester
Contains: Fluff, Crack, Road Trips, and a buttload of music.
Summary: Gabriel's choice in music is beginning to catch Sam's attention. Dean just wants his Metallica back.
Notes: Title from Lana Del Rey's song ”Radio” . Inspired by the prompt "The worst songs on a character's iPod" via margo_kim, in yet another spectacular demonstration of my inability to write a drabble. Each link leads to a YouTube video with the song it mentions.
The full playlist, plus some bonus songs, can be found here on 8tracks.
Archived on AO3 here.
It started with a song.
More accurately it started with a series of songs, and sometimes the same song repeated over and over. It ended with a song too, but that would come later.
“Man, they’re playing nothing but shit on the radio lately,” Dean grumbled, cutting off the first few lines of ”4 Minutes” with a brusque twist of the radio knob. “Thought this was supposed to be a classic rock station.”
“We have an agreement,” Sam said warningly. “Don’t even think about going for the tapes.”
There had recently been amendments to Dean’s “driver picks the music” rule, mainly stemming from the fact that Sam had threatened to superglue a My Little Pony bumper sticker to the impala if he had to listen to the same Metallica cassette one more time. Dean had laughed that one off, but when Sam began talking about renting a Prius for himself Dean finally broke down and switched to the radio.
The change was actually kind of nice at first. Usually Dean would insist on picking the channels, but sometimes he would graciously give Sam a turn. A couple times Castiel would pop up and ride in the back, and Dean even let him choose the station for a while, until Dean realized that his taste in music sucked. The real trouble started, as could probably be expected, with Gabriel.
The first sign of anything suspicious started when the same trashy pop songs kept popping up on every radio station that Dean fled to. Generally the more Dean expressed his hatred for a song, the more stations seemed to be playing it. It wasn’t until Sam heard ”Heat Of The Moment” come on what was usually a classical music station that his suspicions were confirmed. Not long after that the culprit started appearing in the back of the impala on a regular basis.
“Why are you even here?” Dean snarled, his fingers gripped white on the wheel. “Why don’t you just beam yourself up to wherever we’re going to go?”
“By that logic I should just take you all with me,” Gabriel replied, sprawled out in the back seat with his feet on the upholstery (Dean’s eye had started twitching, though he was intent on not giving Gabriel the satisfaction of a scolding). As Sam watched in the side mirror a candy bar appeared in the archangel’s hand. “We wouldn’t even need the car any more. I’m sure we could find a decent scrap yard that could melt her down. She’d make a fine assortment of ball-point pens.”
“Don’t even talk like that,” Dean grumbled under his breath. Sam just shook his head. These cat fights between Dean and Gabriel were becoming a part of Sam’s daily routine, and he had learned that the smart thing to do was sit back and enjoy the show without wading into the fray.
“Besides,” Gabriel said, “If I’m going to keep working for Team Free Will, I want the full experience. No short cuts. If you guys have to suffer through an eight-hour drive, I’ll be suffering right along with you.”
“Oh, I have a feeling there's going to be lots of suffering alright," Dean muttered under his breath, cranking up the volume on the Classic Rock radio. Sam grinned.
It got to the point where Sam and Dean could hardly drive to the corner drugstore without Gabriel kicking the backs of their seats and hijacking their radio. Sam was pretty sure that his reflexes were getting shot into the ground, because he had stopped jumping out of his skin every time the archangel appeared. Crumpled candy wrappers became a permanent fixture of the back-seat scenery, and somehow no matter what station they left the radio on, when they started the car it always blasted the best of ABBA. Dean kept threatening to angel-proof the car whenever he showed up, but Sam knew he wouldn't follow through. Gabriel had proved again and again to be one of their most valuable allies, and as Gabriel pointed out, "an angel-proofed Impala meant no more backseat lovin' for Castiel for our boy Dean to later deny." Dean had actually pulled the car over at that, and for the next five minutes Sam was nearly sick with laughter as Dean chased Gabriel around the car shouting about stuffing his feathers into a pillow.
Compared to his constant bickering with Dean, Gabriel had been remarkably quiet with the younger Winchester. Sam got away with only the lightest needling and the most innocent pranks. That was a pretty dramatic change from their previous encounters, the highlight reel of which involved Sam getting hit in the nuts, starring in a herpes commercial and then being turned into a car. Instead the archangel’s focus seemed to be transferred almost entirely onto Dean. Not like Sam minded his sudden disinterest. Gabriel could harass whoever he chose, and if it wasn’t Sam then all the better. Plus, watching Dean’s reactions was a pretty good time as well. It reminded Sam of the good old days when they couldn’t go five miles without someone getting pranked. After the apocalypse, maybe a little fun and immaturity was just what they needed.
Eventually the group reached a happy equilibrium, or at least a begrudging ceasefire. The radio only occasionally played Gabriel’s truly obnoxious favorites, and Dean stopped threatening to kill him on a daily basis. Sometimes archangel would even stay silent for a while, watching the scenery fly by with a quiet smile as Jack Johnson played softly in the background. Occasionally he would catch Sam watching him, his eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror and crinkling with a smirk that utterly destroyed the peaceful expression on his face. Sam would always look away pretty quickly at that point.
Things were actually going pretty well until the day when Dean went on his rant against Apple and their "douchey little music chips". Sam caught one glance of Gabriel's patented grin before he disappeared with a flutter of wings. Dean muttered something about finally get some peace, but Sam didn't miss the nervous glint in his eyes. As it turned out, Dean had good reason to be on edge. An hour later Gabriel reappeared with a slim touch-screen iPod, complete with a case in bubblegum pink. Dean eyed it suspiciously in the rear-view window.
"Where the hell did you get that?" Dean demanded.
"The Apple store in Penn Station," Gabriel replied without looking up, his fingers flying nimbly over the screen.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Did you steal it?" he asked. Gabriel snorted.
"No, I waited in line and paid with my Mastercard," he scoffed. "Of course I frickin' stole it."
Sam repressed a smile. “What’s the point of having an iPod if you can just change what songs the radio plays?”
“I’m as fallible to material possessions as the next fake-pagan god,” Gabriel said easily. “Plus I know this will piss off Ken doll even more.” It was then that Dean seemed to realize what the logical progression of Gabriel's plan was.
"You are not plugging that techno crap into my baby," Dean said, shifting his body slightly like he was going to throw himself over the dashboard to protect his car’s virtue.
"Well, about that. Seeing as I'm an honorary Winchester and all--" Dean's derisive snort was absolutely obscene-- "and I spend just as much time in this metal trap as you do, I think it's only fair that I get to pick the music once in a while. You know, officially."
"Oh sure," Dean said patronizingly. "Would you like to join the vote on where we stop for dinner while you're at it? And if you play your cards right, maybe I'll even let you drive!"
"Oh come on!" Gabriel cried. "I’m trying to be civil here. Need I remind you that I can make this radio play nothing but Taylor Swift? Just give me a chance."
"Not going to happen."
"Sam," Gabriel said, leaning forward to poke his head up just over Sam's shoulder. "Back me up here. Wouldn’t you like to have my music in your life?"
"Um," Sam said, caught off guard by being pulled into the conversation and not especially eager to take a side. Gabriel’s smirk was very distracting. "Maybe?"
The look of betrayal that Dean directed his way was enough to silence him for the rest of the car ride.
Gabriel's insistence on playing his iPod became a constant and familiar source of bickering over the next few days. When it looked like things were about to erupt into the kind of physical violence that could end up in a multi-car pileup Sam finally stepped in.
"Alright, fine!" he shouted over the sound of Dean and Gabriel's arguing. "Gabriel can have fifteen minutes with his iPod for every two hours of our music. But only on the condition that he has to stop fucking with the radio stations whenever we’re listening.”
After a tense moment of contemplation Dean finally slapped his palm onto the wheel in defeat. "Fine," he gritted out while Gabriel whooped in triumph.
“I knew you’d come through for me, Sasquatch,” Gabriel crowed, leaning forward to fiddle with a car adapter that he’d pulled out of the air.
"As long as it’s not ABBA,” Dean groused. “Man, I’m going to regret this.”
"Dean, you hate my music anyways," Sam pointed out. "Whatever Gabriel wants us to listen to, it can't be much worse for you. Anyways, how much damage can he do in just fifteen minutes?"
As it turned out, a whole fucking lot. For a being of incredible cosmic power, Gabriel had predictably terrible taste in music. If it was loud, tacky and enthusiastic, chances were the archangel would listen to it at least three times. It wasn’t always that bad, but sometimes it was the worst.
Shockingly, Dean broke first. For each fifteen-minute cycle for the past five hours they had been listening to ”My Heart Will Go On” on repeat at ear-splitting volumes, with Gabriel singing along enthusiastically from the back seat. Sam could practically hear Balthazar's screams of anguish from here. Sam knew he should probably just revoke Gabriel's music privileges, but the satisfaction that Dean would get out of proving him wrong was more painful than the impassioned tones of Celine Dion coming from the speakers. Besides, Gabriel's singing voice wasn't half bad.
They were just reaching the chorus for what must have been the thirtieth time when Dean reached over, grabbed the iPod, ripped it off its cabling and tossed it out the window.
With what could only be described as a squawk Gabriel vanished, appearing a second later with the battered remains of his music player cradled in his hand. With a snap of his fingers, though, the device was as good as new.
"Not cool, Dean-o," he said, stroking the screen like it was a frightened animal. "What happened to our deal?"
"I don't care what Sam says, if I have to listen to one more goddamn minute of sappy chick-flick wailing I'm going to flip this car into a ditch," he snarled, glaring at the iPod through the rear-view mirror. “Seriously, that thing is like the antichrist of musical taste. I can practically feel myself getting less classy just from being this close to it.”
“I don’t think being classy is something you’ll ever need to worry about, Dean,” Sam said with a grin.
“Oh, not you too!”
Gabriel held his hands up, conceding. "Okay, okay. No more Titanic. Cross my heart." Gabriel winked at Sam obnoxiously. "Sound like a plan?" He wiggled the pink iPod by Sam's face invitingly. Dean looked like he was about to blow a gasket, but he didn’t protest. Eventually Sam reached out to take it.
"No more Titanic," he agreed, slotting it back into place.
The first song that played was ”A New Day Has Come”. When Dean chucked the iPod out the window that time, Gabriel was laughing too hard to retrieve it.
From then on Gabriel stopped insisting that they let him pick the music. Even without his fifteen minutes of audio torture, Gabriel still found ways to mess with them. His hacking of the radio continued sporadically, playing ”Pocketful of Sunshine” on repeat whenever Dean got especially mouthy. After Dean started reverting back to tapes, Sam came out early one morning to find Gabriel in the passenger seat, pawing through Dean's collection in the glove box and muttering evilly under his breath. As soon as he noticed Sam watching him his eyes snapped up, and for a second they stared each other down. Sam gave a tiny, nearly invisible nod, and Gabriel broke out into a giant, shit-eating grin. Dean's reaction when he went to play Metallica and instead was blasted with ”Call Me Maybe” was enough to have Sam laughing for a week. They stuck to the radio for a while after that, but Sam had to admit that teaming up to get on Dean’s nerves was more fun than he should be allowed to have.
After a while, Sam started noticing a pattern. When it was Dean’s turn to pick the stations, he’d sometimes get forced to listen to ”Friday” all the way through no matter which station he flipped to. Any other time, though, something different was happening. From "Wicked Game" to ”You Make Me Feel”, ”Untouched” to ”Sugar, Sugar”, he was picking up on a definite trend-and that trend seemed to be a mix tape of love songs tailor-made for Sam Winchester. As the last notes of Muse's ”Undisclosed Desires” were cut off by the obnoxious DJ, Sam wondered whether it was just coincidence. He doubted it. When he chanced a look in the mirror to where he knew Gabriel would be sitting, he found that the archangel was already watching him. He looked away on instinct, and when he glanced back Gabriel was sticking a lollipop to the back of Dean's seat. Sam shifted in his seat.
He’d known about his attraction to Gabriel for a while. It wasn’t a big deal, because Sam wasn’t going to let it become a big deal. This thing with the songs made him think that maybe Gabriel knew about it and was exploiting it for a laugh, but Sam thought it was more likely that he was trying to make Dean uncomfortable. Ever since he’d come back he’d shown much more of an interest in Dean anyways.
A week later, Dean nearly got them killed.
It had been a long month in total; lots of driving, little sleep, and sporadically being thrown through walls on a hunt. Even Gabriel had backed off on the truly obnoxious harassment for a change, but whether that was out of pity or because he was afraid Dean might actually shoot him, Sam wasn't sure.
At around four in the morning Dean was behind the wheel while Sam drifted in and out of consciousness. He was dimly aware of ”Born To Die” playing in the background, and was pulled back into wakefulness with the distant feeling that something was wrong; he was vaguely aware that lights of oncoming traffic were a little bit further to the right than he was used to when he glanced over and saw Dean’s head lolling against his chest.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, shoving him awake just in time for him to swerve the wheel. The car lurched away from oncoming traffic, but the cars ahead were so close--the lights were blinding, the horns blaring so loud they cut right through them, when suddenly they were back in their lane as if nothing had happened.
His heart pounding, Sam twisted to look in the back seat, where Gabriel was sitting with his fingers poised in the aftermath of a snap, his face carefully blank. For once, he didn't gloat. Wordlessly Sam nodded, well aware of the fact that the archangel had probably just saved their lives.
Sam turned his attention back to Dean, whose face was pale and tight as he stared pointedly through the windshield.
"Dean," Sam said again gently, "Pull over. I'll drive."
Dean didn't argue, taking the car off into the shoulder.
"You're in the back seat," Sam said as Dean undid his seatbelt. "You'll sleep better, and I could use Gabriel with me to help out again if needed."
"Does that mean I get to ride shotgun?" Gabriel asked in barely contained excitement. Dean looked sour at that, but he lacked the energy to do anything but shake his head and slouch into the back as Gabriel slid into the passenger seat.
"Don't let him teleport my baby, Sammy," Dean muttered thickly into the upholstery, practically asleep already. "Don't want her to get all covered in angel mojo."
"My mistake, next time I'll just let you guys drive into oncoming traffic," Gabriel said sarcastically, but by then Dean was dead to the world. He settled into silence as Sam merged back onto the highway, nothing but the crooning notes of ”Enjoy The Silence” between them in the car. Sam wanted to say something, ask something, though he wasn't really sure what it was. It crossed his mind that this was one of the first times he and Gabriel hadn't had Dean awake to chaperone.
"So uh, it would help if we could talk," he said, keeping his voice low for Dean's sake despite the fact that his brother easily could have slept through the car accident that they were theoretically trying to avoid. "It'll help keep me awake until we can find a motel."
Gabriel nodded amicably, toying with the air vents. "Sounds good, kiddo. What do you want to talk about?"
Sam shrugged. "Anything, it doesn't matter. Just make sure that I don't pass out."
"Hmm." Gabriel was quiet for a few minutes, long enough for Sam to start feeling self conscious about how uninteresting he must be that Gabriel, who could hardly shut up for five seconds on a good day, had nothing to say to him. With Dean there it was always banter, banter, banter; was Sam really that boring?
"You're not boring," Gabriel said suddenly, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. He looked at the archangel out of the corner of his eye.
"Listening to my thoughts?" Gabriel shrugged with a coy smile, saying nothing. "How long have you been doing that for?"
"Oh, whenever the mood takes me," Gabriel said lightly. "Don't worry, I always leave before things get too hot and heavy. Well, usually." Sam swore his face wasn't getting hot. It was just stuffy in the car was all.
"For me being so supposedly interesting, you haven't had a lot to say in the past few weeks," Sam commented. "You and Dean have been...well, I hate to say getting along, but I guess not killing each other is as close as we can hope for."
Gabriel's eyebrows shot up.
"Not like it's a problem," Sam back-wheeled, quickly, his eyes flicking from the road to his passenger. Having Gabriel riding shotgun was really not doing much to improve his driving after all. "I think it's great that you guys are talking so much. Really great." Sam leveled his eyes resolutely on the road. He was not going to be drawn any further into this.
"Could it be?" Gabriel said, a clear note of delight in his voice. "Sam Winchester, I do believe you’re jealous."
"What?" Sam cried, flinching and glancing behind him, but Dean was still sleeping like a log. "Why would I be jealous? I'm just glad that you've moved past your weird obsession with making my life miserable for a change."
"Oh Sammy, you know you love it when I pull on your pigtails," Gabriel said, leaning forward so that Sam had no choice but to see his face out of the corner of his eye. "But seriously though. My radio silence with you hasn't been because I don't have anything to say. I'm just trying to figure out what to say."
Sam snuck a glance at him. He looked... surprisingly earnest. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that you are one hell of an enigma, kid. Try as I might, I just can't figure you out."
Sam readjusted his grip on the wheel self consciously. "I'm just a hunter, Gabriel. All I do all day is sleep, eat, drive, and occasionally kill things. I'm really not that complicated."
"Bullshit." Gabriel flicked his ear playfully, earning a yelp out of Sam. "Nothing about you adds up. Your very existence was engineered to bring about the apocalypse, yet you end up being the poster boy for free will. You stood up to Dad long before I ever thought I could. And despite dying at least three times, you still managed to keep up your ravishing good looks.”
A barely-suppressed smile crept across Sam’s face at that, and Gabriel propped his chin up on his hand and studied Sam like he was trying to unravel his supposed mysteries at that very moment.
“Come to any conclusions yet?” he asked, shooting the archangel a wry look.
Gabriel grinned. “Working on one.” His eyes pointedly never left Sam’s face, and Sam thought it best not to ask him to specify.
They chatted comfortably from there until they pulled up outside the nearest motel with the beats of ”Earth Angel” playing softly in the background. While Sam was checking in he had Gabriel on wake-up duty, and whether that was crueler on Dean or the archangel was anyone’s guess. When Sam returned to the car Gabriel was gone, as he usually was when Sam and Dean hit the hay. Sam helped his brother carry their stuff to the room, part of his mind still going over what Gabriel had said but the majority of him just looking forward to lying down and getting some sleep.
Dean left his shoes, bag and jacket in a trail behind him as he made a beeline for the bed, practically asleep before he hit the mattress. Sam took more time, taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth. He was just about to collapse into sleep when he realized that his gun was gone; he must have left it in the car. Rubbing his eyes, Sam grabbed the key and slumped back out into the parking lot.
When he reached the impala, he was surprised to see his gun resting on the far side of the back seat. He had no idea how it would have gotten there-if anything, it should have been in the glove box. Shrugging internally, he opened the door and slid into the car, shuffling across the seat to retrieve it.
“Hello Sam.” The door closed with a snap.
For the first time in a long time Sam had a moment of panic at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, as he turned to see the archangel sitting on the stretch of seat between him and the door. It wasn’t a very large seat.
“So I’ve finally figured something out about you,” Gabriel said conversationally. Sam and realized that the radio had come on, despite the fact that the keys were still in Sam’s pocket. ”Radio” purred out of the impala’s speakers, so quiet that Sam found himself unconsciously straining to listen to it.
“Uh, Gabriel,” he said, fighting down the impulses that the close quarters were bringing out of him. He had to push away before he did something stupid. “Why are you here?”
“Oh come on,” he said with a grin. “Don’t you want to know what I realized?”
Sam stared him down for a minute before leaning back into the seat with a sigh. Fine. He’d play.
Gabriel stared up at him. “It’s been a long and difficult road, but I think I’ve finally cracked it,” he said. “I realized that, despite the fact that you were a big-shot baby lawyer that went to Stanford, and you’re one smart cookie when it all comes down to it-you’re also really fucking dumb.”
Sam laughed, more out of surprise than anything. “Okay,” he said, “Any reason in particular?”
Suddenly Gabriel was a lot closer than he had been for, closer than what was appropriate. Sam’s breath caught in his throat where his heart was competing for space, as Gabriel ran the tips of his fingers down Sam’s chest.
“Two,” he murmured, closing the distance, and his lips pressed into Sam’s. They were soft, slightly chapped, and tasted like vanilla, and Sam reveled in that tiny detail, that piece of information that Sam always thought he’d never get to have. Sam’s hand dragged up Gabriel’s back to tangle in his hair, drifting down to rub at his shoulders before wandering to his neck. Their mouths clashed and chased each other, Gabriel’s curious and teasing at Sam’s insistency. All too soon Gabriel pulled away, a giant grin on his face.
“Reason one,” he said. “You’re dumb enough to want to do this with me. Reason two: You’re dumb enough that it took you this long to catch on to the fact that I wanted this just as much as you did. Your infinite contradictions continue, Winchester.”
“Please don’t tell me that you’re stopping just to gloat,” Sam groaned, too stunned that Gabriel had wanted this to engage in any deep discussions.
Gabriel leaned in so that his breath was against Sam’s neck. “Would you expect anything else?” he murmured, working Sam’s ear with his teeth. “Thought you said you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, well as you obviously know, I want other stuff as well,” Sam said, digging his fingers into the back of Gabriel’s jacket and kissing at his neck. “And I’ve wanted that stuff for a while. That does things to a person.”
“Stuff, things,” Gabriel said, his nonchalant tone betrayed by the hammering of his pulse under Sam’s mouth. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Sasquatch.”
“How about a demonstration?” Sam pressed forward, struggling in the confines of Dean’s tiny car to position Gabriel beneath him. When he miraculously managed to find a comfortable position without whacking his head on the roof or dislocating his hips, he settled in to exploring as much of Gabriel’s mouth as he could reach. He couldn’t hear anything except the sound of their hitched breathing and the radio in the background. Sam smiled against Gabriel’s lips, breaking away for just long enough to tug his shirt off.
“Dean would be so pissed if he ever found out we did this in the back of his car,” Sam murmured.
Gabriel grinned. “I don’t know about you, but for me that makes it 10x better.”
“Shut up and take your clothes off, Gabriel.”
“Your wish is my command.”
The next morning Sam found Gabriel’s iPod tucked into his pocket, complete with every god-awful song Gabriel had played for them over the past few weeks.
Sam grinned at the open air. He was going to play the whole thing twice.