The Legend of the Norwegian Blue
Gabriel grinned at Sam, his eyes shining, flashing their brightest caramel-gold, and making Sam's stomach flip.
"So. We're finally alone."
"Yeah." Sam laughed, completely failing to cover his nerves. They hadn't managed to catch any alone time since Sam had accidentally blabbed his true feelings. Stupid witches and their stupid curses, making him share way too much. Gabriel had disappeared for a while, claiming he had to think things over. After that, Dean had just not let Sam alone. But now... here they were.
"Was it true?" Gabriel started, handling the whole situation with a sort of detatched humour. "You've never...?"
"No." Sam whispered, deciding it was time to man up and get it all out of the way. "No, I haven't. But... I'd like to. With you."
"Ok..." Gabriel looked down, his mask of levity slipping for a moment as he thought. He nodded.
"Ok." He repeated. He crossed the motel room and sat on the couch next to Sam. A little uncomfortable, a little hesitant, but determined. Sam suddenly felt very embarrassed.
"Are you sure?" Gabriel just wanted absolute confirmation. "I mean... it's personal, you know? Intimate. And... I mean, if one of us doesn't enjoy it, it could get very... awkward."
"So... if someone doesn't like it, they can up and leave, no questions asked, never speak of it again." Sam nodded, his voice a lot more certain than he actually was. Gabriel rested a hand on Sam's knee.
"Deal. But... I think you'll like it. Actually, I think you'll love it."
(--*--)
Dean entered an hour or so later to see Sam and Gabriel in hysterics on the couch, as John Cleese pranced about on the TV screen, declaring that the blue parrot he was holding was no more, that it had ceased to be, and that it was, in fact, a dead parrot. Sam wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, and twisted around in his seat.
"Hey, Dean."
"What's going on?"
"Gabriel decided he couldn't sleep with someone who'd never seen Monty Python, so we thought we'd watch the box set."
Dean rolled his eyes and skulked off. Gabriel didn't even scowl at him, too busy delighting, relieved in the fact that Sam approved of his favourite TV series. Although, if there was any proof of Sam's neglected childhood, it was teh fact that he'd gotten this far in life without seeing the Dead Parrot sketch.
"So. We're finally alone."
"Yeah." Sam laughed, completely failing to cover his nerves. They hadn't managed to catch any alone time since Sam had accidentally blabbed his true feelings. Stupid witches and their stupid curses, making him share way too much. Gabriel had disappeared for a while, claiming he had to think things over. After that, Dean had just not let Sam alone. But now... here they were.
"Was it true?" Gabriel started, handling the whole situation with a sort of detatched humour. "You've never...?"
"No." Sam whispered, deciding it was time to man up and get it all out of the way. "No, I haven't. But... I'd like to. With you."
"Ok..." Gabriel looked down, his mask of levity slipping for a moment as he thought. He nodded.
"Ok." He repeated. He crossed the motel room and sat on the couch next to Sam. A little uncomfortable, a little hesitant, but determined. Sam suddenly felt very embarrassed.
"Are you sure?" Gabriel just wanted absolute confirmation. "I mean... it's personal, you know? Intimate. And... I mean, if one of us doesn't enjoy it, it could get very... awkward."
"So... if someone doesn't like it, they can up and leave, no questions asked, never speak of it again." Sam nodded, his voice a lot more certain than he actually was. Gabriel rested a hand on Sam's knee.
"Deal. But... I think you'll like it. Actually, I think you'll love it."
(--*--)
Dean entered an hour or so later to see Sam and Gabriel in hysterics on the couch, as John Cleese pranced about on the TV screen, declaring that the blue parrot he was holding was no more, that it had ceased to be, and that it was, in fact, a dead parrot. Sam wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, and twisted around in his seat.
"Hey, Dean."
"What's going on?"
"Gabriel decided he couldn't sleep with someone who'd never seen Monty Python, so we thought we'd watch the box set."
Dean rolled his eyes and skulked off. Gabriel didn't even scowl at him, too busy delighting, relieved in the fact that Sam approved of his favourite TV series. Although, if there was any proof of Sam's neglected childhood, it was teh fact that he'd gotten this far in life without seeing the Dead Parrot sketch.