Sailorstarshine's Stocking
People wanting to stuff sailorstarshine's fannish stocking (say write drabbles/make icons/leave good wishes and such)?
This is the post to do it. Comments will be screened until the grand reveal. ( sailorstarshine's interests are as follows: )
This is the post to do it. Comments will be screened until the grand reveal. ( sailorstarshine's interests are as follows: )
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The wind whips past him in cold blasts that have already numbed his cheeks and his nose feels frozen. It all reminds him of a movie he saw once when he was little, the puppies bemoaning how their toes and noses and tails were cold and he smiles beneath the striped, fuzzy fleece scarf that's the only thing keeping them from possibly turning blue on the walk from his - his - driveway to their porch. He's pretty sure the novelty will never wear off, having a house that's his, theirs.
The keys slip in his gloved hand when he pulls them from his belt loop, shifting all of the bags into his other arm. He should have known better than to think he'd actually need to use them, though, when the door opens before he's even started trying to pick out the house key from the rest.
Gabriel pulls him in by the arm, but Sam can barely feel it through the sleeves of his puffy coat. The skin of his cheeks tingle and his nose twitches at the sudden change in temperature. There's a fire crackling in the living room, something else he'd always wanted that the angel refused to let them go without, and the smell of burning wood and festive apple cinnamon and what might even be the aroma of freshly made hot chocolate wafting from the kitchen fill his senses, make his belly flip and his chest swell. He's grinning before he even realizes it.
"Hey," he breathes, cut off from saying anything more when Gabriel snaps the bags from his hands and onto the loveseat by the over-extravagantly decorated Christmas tree Sam tried to insist didn't need to be perfect but had fun setting up anyway. Gabriel's forehead is creased a little and Sam feels those amber eyes looking him up and down even as the angel pushes Sam's jacket off his shoulders and unwraps the scarf.
His grin morphs to a soft, half smile and he valiantly resists the urge to roll his eyes at what's become a familiar routine since they found out. He knows by now to let Gabriel look his fill until he realizes Sam is just fine, more than capable of going to the store for groceries - that he refuses to let Gabriel just snap into existence because it's still a nice experience, going to the grocery store and filling his cart with food that isn't all non-perishable, travel-friendly, microwavable food - or shopping for presents as he'd been doing today. In his bags are some oil for Dean's baby - always a must for his brother and one of the few traditions they had before they finally got a chance to live their own lives outside of hunting - and the latest AC/DC album on CD because he's still a little brother and it's fun to rile Dean up a bit. He's got the cassette tape, too, something he plans on holding onto until after everything's been opened and Dean's sufficiently bitched about how it's an atrocity, trying to make him bring the Impala (and himself) into the 21st century. He picked up a pound of caramel chocolates from one of the shops at the mall for Gabriel even though he knows the angel can just bring some into existence because he also knows that there's something about man-made candy that his angel likes. Sam thinks it's the same almost refreshing feeling he gets about going shopping, something he doesn't - didn't - get to do often for a long time.
"Satisfied?" Sam asked, unable to mask his amusement.
Gabriel's eyes snap up to meet his and they're softer now that he knows Sam is just as healthy now as he was when he left. But then the angel waggles his eyebrows, eyes flashing playfully. "Never," he teases, wrapping his fingers around Sam's neck and dragging him down for a long, wet kiss that leaves Sam panting when he pulls away.
"Hey, back."
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