SASSY \o/
SASSY COMMENT FIC MEME
1. Leave prompts - All prompts should be Sam and Castiel centric. Either as a pairing or gen about them and their friendship
2. Fill the prompts - If your fic is too long for one comment just reply to part one with part 2 (don't leave a new comment with each part or it makes it hard to follow the thread) or leave a link
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1. Leave prompts - All prompts should be Sam and Castiel centric. Either as a pairing or gen about them and their friendship
2. Fill the prompts - If your fic is too long for one comment just reply to part one with part 2 (don't leave a new comment with each part or it makes it hard to follow the thread) or leave a link
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FILL: HE DOESN'T PLAY MUCH, BUT WHEN HE DOES, HE PLAYS FOR KEEPS (1)
Consort.
They said it was an honor to be chosen. It meant life-long security, the best of everything -- food, medicine, clothing -- and pleasure unlike anything humans could experience alone, but it also meant you were no longer a member of your family. You belonged to the angel who chose you. You were bound to them and they, in turn.
You should be proud, they said as Gabriel -- the Archangel, one of the four most powerful in the world -- stalked along the long line of potential mates, scenting each of them and turning one after the other away before reaching Dean.
Dean, who was so strong and so smart. Dean, who hadn't wanted to become a mate -- not because he didn't want the benefits but because he, like Sam, knew what it meant for them. Dean, who was nonetheless made to kneel and who disappeared within Gabriel's folded wingspan. As the shadow of Gabriel's wings took on the honeyed hue of a successful mating, congratulatory murmurs swelled around him, but as the rest of Gabriel's flock descended -- their regalia glimmering in the sunlight -- Sam heard none of it. His eyes were locked upon the bright gold of Gabriel's wings -- the color of wealth and the sun overhead -- and for the first time, he wished they would just burn to ash for taking away the only family he had left.
By the time the ceremony dispersed, Sam had a plan in mind to get his brother back in the only way he knew how. Gabriel and his flock lived on the edge of town. A whole area of untamed land was walled off for the use of his family and had to be tended and cared for by human workers in order to keep some semblance of control. Sam could get in on that, easy; he was strong and young and well-educated. So he applied and hoped that this was going to be the first step toward getting his brother back.
Turned out that getting in? Even easier than Sam thought. Barely a week later and he was standing in the the servants hall with twenty other applicants, but it seemed as if his work was cut out for him, here on out. Like Sam, they're all well-dressed and physically fit, but they also chatted amicably among one another, familiar faces all around. Sam was the odd one out here, a stranger to these people and this system. A knot of dread settled heavily in Sam's gut; what if his plan was stuck here forever?
Then he walked in.
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Sam stood straight backed with the rest of them, but could not take his eyes of the newcomer, clearly their superior. Dark hair. Sombre appearance. The way he shed his coat and gloves and left them in the arms of his footman was natural yet pointed -- as if the sharp movements had been instilled in him from a young age. Perhaps they had, Sam though, because it wasn't his demeanor that marked him as their superior but the spread of dark wings: he was an angel.
"I am called Castiel," said the angel. There were no titles among their kind, only names; aside from the Archangels, their ranking class fluctuated so frequently that it was useless for Mankind to do anything but consider them all one mind. Castiel tugged at his cuffs, straightening the sleeves. "I conduct the household. Step forward for inspection, please."
No one batted a lash as they did as Castiel requested, but inwardly, Sam thought it a bit strange that Castiel was doing... well... work. Not to mention his wings. They were tucked neatly behind Castiel's back as he walked down the line of applicants, assigning or dismissing as he saw fit, but there was no hiding the lonely shade of his feathers. They were as dark as smoke -- as if someone had smudged ash all over them -- and it struck Sam then that there was an opportunity here, one he hadn't expected.
An unmated member of Gabriel's house. Possibly the last one. Definitely Sam's last hope for a more permanent position near his brother.
Castiel's nostrils flared when he stepped to Sam. An angel didn't have to ask questions in order to know a person; they simply looked -- sliding in as easily as a knife, paring out the information they wanted, and bypassing the messy humanity of lies and flattery to get to the truth. A pair of blue eyes -- too true a blue to be human -- looked deeply into his, and Sam waited for it to hurt, for it to feel invasive. The feeling never came.
"Oh," said Castiel, wings ruffling briefly. "Winchester." A small smile touched the corner of his mouth, but the realization of Sam's identity did not seem to affect the rest of his expression. Castiel slipped incrementally closer and breathed, taking a long pull of Sam's scent in a way he hadn't with the others. "Yes," he said, "you'll be working with me."
Sam shuddered faintly. He couldn't believe his luck.
*
Castiel was a quiet and efficient worker. He ran the house openly and made himself available so servants would be able to find him when they needed help. For the most part, he was a problem solver and a planner. He arranged all the in-house ceremonies, made the staff aware of incoming visitors, and ensured that the house was always stocked and ready for company. As far as Sam could tell, Castiel did it because he liked keeping busy, which was more than Sam could say for much of his family.
As for Sam... He did nothing. Castiel gave him no instructions. He made no demands. It was Castiel's footman, Chuck, who made sure he knew where his room was and that he was at Castiel's side before breakfast. Sam helped Chuck because he didn't know what else to do. He didn't want to be standing there, doing nothing, so he passed Chuck clothing as he helped Castiel dress and he served food at dinner and he ran errands.
He did what he could to seem useful. He didn't want Castiel to have any reason to send him away, but while Castiel would watch him -- hawkishly, with a gaze that lingered and picked him apart even from a distance -- he did not give orders. It was as if he was waiting for Sam to snap under the pressure because he seemed unsurprised when Sam lingered one evening after Chuck bid him goodnight.
"Did you need something?" Castiel asked.
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For a moment, Sam didn't speak as he picked over his words. Castiel was fresh from his bath. His hair was dark and curling around his face, and his body was draped in a robe of soft linen, belted loosely around his waist and scooping across his shoulders. Were it not for the black of his wings, it would be as if a Renaissance painting had taken life. Castiel looked up from his books -- the handful of new ones that Sam had brought from the library when Chuck had given him to rest to return to the shelves -- and his gaze cut right through Sam's hesitation. The words burst out of him.
"Why am I here?"
The soft half-smile that Castiel wore so often when he looked at Sam appeared again. "You are here because you wish to be close to my brother's consort and kidnap him if necessary," he said. "The question you mean to ask is why I allow you to remain when your motives for serving me are so--" He paused, searchingly, "--dissolute."
Sam stepped forward. If Castiel knew everything, there was no reason to hide. "Please," he said. "Dean's all I have. I just want to see him, make sure he's happy. Please, don't send me away."
Castiel's wings bristled, shedding droplets of water. "I'm not sending you anywhere," he said, "but I can't risk you disappearing with a member of my family in tow."
"He's my brother," Sam cut in, ferociously protective.
"Not anymore, he's not," Castiel replied smoothly and then shifted his books to one hand so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time to explain the details of a mating bond to you when you're already aware of how unbreakable they are. It's the reason for your second plan, isn't it? Seducing me into choosing you as my consort."
Castiel circled around his desk, wings splaying slightly. The longest feathers brushed against Sam's knee as Castiel moved right past him. "Yes," he said. "I saw that too, Sam. I hope you'll understand if I don't leap at the prospect of a mate who doesn't even want me."
Sam turned to look at him. Castiel was standing next to the door, books tucked into his elbow and definitely waiting for Sam to leave his sitting room. Sam took the first few steps that would comply with Castiel's unspoken order, but when they drew abreast, he paused. "You've known this since that first day?" he asked.
Blue eyes blinking as if taken aback by Sam continuing to speak, Castiel tilted his head to the side. "I have," he said.
"Why don't you send me away then? Why let me work here at all?"
Brows drawing together tightly, Castiel lowered his eyes and then turned away altogether. "Goodnight, Sam."
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If Castiel was surprised by Sam turning up for work the next morning, he didn't show it, but while Chuck was busy working with his cufflinks, Castiel looked at the bundle of letters in Sam's hands and said: "Read them to me."
At first, Sam fumbled with them. Chuck glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled reassuringly. Soon, Sam was sifting through Castiel's mail, reading invitations and pamphlets and personal letters aloud, and each word came with a growing sense of unease. While the invitations and pamphlets were no problem, the letters were something else. When he got to them, he hesitated.
"Are you sure you want me to read them?" Sam asked. "They're private."
"Was I unclear?" Castiel asked, and as Sam shook his head and uneasily started opening the envelopes, he went on: "Considering the manner of your interview, I'm surprised you bother asking. Not to mention our mating ceremonies." His gaze slid over. "Continue."
There was nothing exceptionally private in the letters, it turned out. Mostly it was inquiries after the house and business from Michael -- an Archangel of another house -- and from Anna, subtle queries on Castiel's relationship status. Family things. Still, they weren't things that made it into the media. No one worried about succession -- angels had long, long lives and shared them with their consorts -- and while an angel taking a consort was rare enough to warrant a lot of attention, the media had a lot more to go on with humans. When Sam finished, he looked up from the pages -- feeling exceptionally nervous for having new insight into how Castiel and his family cared for each other. Chuck was brushing the dust off of Castiel's shoulders and straightening his tie. Castiel was not paying Sam the least bit of attention.
"I'd like to ride out today. Inspect the wall," Castiel announced, reaching out only to take his mail from Sam's lax fingers. Beside him Chuck stammered, murmuring about not knowing how to ride a horse. "I know," he said, "but Sam does. Sometime this afternoon?"
"Yes," Chuck said immediately, relieved apparently at not having to attend Castiel on horseback. "We can do that."
Later, after Chuck had hurriedly led Sam to the stables and pointed out where all the gears were and the horses -- "Everyone's labeled. You can figure it out from here, right?" -- Sam was on a huge thoroughbred, trotting easily behind Castiel. It was a little odd to think of an angel on a horse; Sam had half-thought they would just fly, what with the wings and all, but when they'd first set out to look at the perimeter wall, Castiel had spread his wings for balance, urging his horse into a light gallop and forcing Sam to rush to keep up. For the past two hours, however, Castiel hadn't done more than lead the way, and Sam was forced to watch the flick and flutter of his wings, the straight line of his back, the way the sunlight caught in the air around him as if it meant to kiss his skin above all others.
"Castiel?" he called. Ahead of him, Castiel turned and brought his horse to a stop. Sam waited until he was even with Castiel before pulling on the reins. "Is there something I should be doing?"
"If I require anything, I'll tell you," Castiel told him plainly and then began nudging his horse back into movement. He threw the remainder of his words over his shoulder. "You humans are full of contradictions. We've been alone for hours without you taking advantage of it. I thought you were here to seduce me!"
Sam followed quickly. "I thought you didn't want me to."
"I don't recall saying so," Castiel said cryptically and gently flicked the hindquarter of his steed with his riding crop. "Hurry! We're almost done."
With their horses pushed to a canter, Sam chased Castiel all the way back to the stables, more unsure than ever before of what he was doing. The sight of his wings and his back moving was almost like true flight, as if he were running in haste, but between the delicate rise of feathers, Castiel's face turned over his shoulder with a smile on it. Running, yes, Sam thought -- but not fleeing. He was making sure that Sam was still in pursuit.
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*eyes glued to screen* This was an absolutely STUNNING beginning. I adore it. Please please please keep going!
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very glad that you're liking it!
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Over the course of the next few days, the house was busy welcoming Gabriel and Dean back from their family tour. The tour was a custom Sam hadn't known about when he'd arrived, but whatever -- what was important was that he got to glimpse Dean through the throng of angels suddenly bleeding through the woodwork to greet him. There were parties to be thrown and food to be served, and Castiel made sure that Sam was in the thick of it -- kept so busy that Sam knew that Castiel was worried about him getting near Dean. Sam saw glimpses anyway, and what he saw made him pensive.
Dean looked happy -- unconcerned in a way that Sam couldn't remember him ever being before the mating with Gabriel -- and every time Sam thought about approaching, Dean would smile or laugh as he brushed off the affectionate attentions of his new family. It felt strange, suddenly, to deny Dean that happiness or to go to him, hoping that he'd be willing to do the impossible by breaking his mating bond and running off. Family is what they were, no matter what the law said now, and Sam didn't want to be the one that dragged Dean back into the uncertainty of their former lives.
Sam turned his focus back to the party, stayed late even to help break down the outdoor decorations after the angels and their guests had moved inside, and wondered if Dean worried about him. For all he knew, the mating bond really did cut all former sense of family away. Maybe if he'd approached him, Dean would've seen him as nothing more than an old friend, with nothing about brother or blood reflecting in his expression.
"Don't be stupid," Castiel snapped at him that evening as Sam readied him for bed. Sam was on his own tonight and while he'd been lacing the backing of Castiel's robe around the roots of his wings, he'd let slip his concerns. "We're angels. We have no use for companions that are anything less than what they already are."
"Well then why--" Sam breaks off, chewing at his lip. He holds the final lengths of the laces in his hands before tying them in a bow. "Why does it seem like he's not worried about me? He wouldn't... forget."
Looking up, Sam met Castiel's gaze in the mirror. It was the same, striking blue as always, yet this time it seemed to hold a kind of warmth. "You Winchesters," he murmured. "The both of you are very lucky."
Sam broke away, uncomfortable, and went so far as to start straightening up the accessories table just to keep from meeting Castiel's undecipherable gaze. Nonetheless, he muttered, "It doesn't feel like it," with a bitterness that surprised him.
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"If you say so," Castiel agreed quietly, but when Sam continued to be sullen and silent, he touched his elbow. "Look at me, Sam."
"I don't want to," Sam said, knowing what looking into Castiel's eyes meant, but when soft fingers touched his cheek, Sam did look and willingly sank into the quiet blue of Castiel's gaze.
"I see." Castiel cupped Sam's face with both hands. His wings dropped out behind him like a train and then swept around them. Sam felt distinctly as if he were being hugged, swallowed up in the heavy darkness of Castiel's wings. It was warm here, and so was Castiel as he leaned in, breathing in with a soft flutter of his lashes. "You're lonely."
"It's not as simple as that," Sam whispered, but he accepted the comfort he was being given.
He folded into Castiel's open arms and buried his face into the crook of his neck. He let Castiel pet him and hold his shoulders and nose softly along the side of his face. In return, Sam gently rested his hands at Castiel's waist. The nightgown under his palms was a silken cotton and somewhat heavy, but Sam could still feel the compact body underneath it. Were it not for the pervading sense of comfort and the wings, Sam might've thought he was holding onto one of his own kind, but as Castiel's fingers pulled soothingly at the knots along his spine, Sam was glad Castiel wasn't.
It felt good to be held by an angel -- felt good to have his senses filled with something sweet and dappled in sunlight, like every inch of Castiel's body was built to relax Sam and make his mouth water with hunger. As Castiel inhaled gently at the spot behind his ear, Sam returned the favor with a gasp, teeth parting to take in a bit of Castiel's skin as he wondered if all angels were like this -- if they all came installed with this sense of home and love--
Castiel made a sudden noise and withdrew by several steps. Hands clasping empty air, Sam very nearly buckled, torn between the instinct to follow and the rational understanding that he shouldn't. He stared after Castiel for a long time before straightening on his own. His whole body was tingling with oversensitivity, his nerves searching for an angel's presence and getting confused when there was nothing to find.
It was unsettling to blink back to awareness and know that he'd been so close to marking Castiel up with bite marks. It was more unsettling to realize that, despite being back in control, he couldn't think of a single reason why he didn't want to make Castiel his in some way. Sam's only consolation was that Castiel's hands were shaking minutely at his sides because the angel's eyes betrayed nothing, and for a moment, Sam wanted nothing more than to see--
"Goodnight, Sam," Castiel said pointedly. He was already moving -- not toward the door to the hallway as he had the first time he'd kicked Sam out, but toward the door that led to his bedroom -- and with each backward step he took, he never took his eyes off Sam. "l'll see if I can arrange a meeting for you with Dean tomorrow."
Then with one last lingering look, Castiel was gone.
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Looks like Cas is feeling more than a little something too.
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Sam woke up the following morning aching and cramped. He didn't know why; he hadn't done nearly enough physical labor yesterday to warrant it, but his body was stiff when he moved to get ready for the day. His thoughts moved to Castiel immediately, wondering if he would make good on his promise from last night -- wondering if maybe it was a good idea at all. Sam didn't want to make Dean feel guilty for being happy if he had moved on, and if Dean didn't remember... Well, there were some things Sam just didn't want to know, and he'd feel better if Castiel knew that.
When he neared Castiel's room, however, Chuck and one of the maids were already bustling out of the door with the remains of breakfast. Chuck beckoned when he saw Sam and then led him back to the servants' quarters, saying: "There are big plans for you today, so consider this your day off." He dove into Sam's dresser, rifling through his clothes. "Do you have anything nice?"
"What's going on?" Sam asked. "Why didn't you get me, if Castiel was up early?"
"He told me not to," said Chuck flatly as he pulled out a folded but rumpled suit from the bottom drawer. His expression was a bit frazzled as he shook it out. Sam had felt his shoulders droop, but it wasn't until Chuck cast him a sympathetic look that he realized how upset he felt about Castiel not wanting to see him. "Hey, don't-- don't make that face, okay? I'm sure he had his reasons and that they have nothing to do with, you know... whatever it is you two are doing."
"What." Sam boggled for a second. "We're not -- Cas and I aren't doing anything. Really. He's helping me get my brother back."
Chuck just nodded as he put the suit on a hanger. "Sure, whatever. It's none of my business and I'm sure I don't want to know. It doesn't matter. You're going to be eating lunch at eleven with him and Gabriel and Dean, and I need to you be presentable." He carried the suit into the bathroom, flipped on the shower, and closed the door behind him when he came back out empty-handed. "You'll be eating in the gazebo. Don't know what's gonna be served yet, but probably something light. Have you ever interacted with an angel other than Castiel before?"
Sam thought about that. He'd served them food and ran them errands, but he didn't really consider taking orders interaction. Castiel talked back. He liked the books Sam chose for him. He teased and smiled and touched and made Sam feel--
He shook his head. "No," he said. "Just him."
"Right," Chuck said after a moment. "Well, just remember that they're really territorial. Don't piss 'em off, alright? If an Archangel thinks you're gonna take away what's his, he'll probably just make you explode all over the furniture."
Sam laughed loudly before he realized that Chuck was giving him a wild-eyed and desperately earnest look. "What, seriously? Literally, explode? Jesus." He tried to imagine how that worked. "But Castiel--"
Chuck made a dismissive scoff. "Castiel's great. It's Gabriel that you worry about. He's the one with the juice." He waved off Sam when he opened his mouth to ask more. "Look, just -- play nice or something. I'm sure Castiel will make sure nothing happens to you. And Gabriel's pretty easy going for an Arch. I'm sure you'll be fine."
Still, when he'd decided it was time to leave, Chuck squeezed Sam's elbow and his arm and then turned away quickly. It felt a bit as if Chuck had said goodbye, and Sam sank into the nearest chair, suddenly wildly paranoid that he was going to die before the day was up.
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The wrinkles steamed out of his suit. His pants were ironed, and so was his shirt. He shined his shoes so much Sam thought he could see his reflection in its surface. He was eager and terrified. As it was, Dean was someone Sam could deal with seeing under any circumstances, but an Archangel was a whole different prospect. Sam dressed swiftly at first, but then spent the following minutes making sure there were no stray threads or stains or missing buttons. He brushed his hair three times, wondering if he should leave it down or tie it back. Maybe he should go into town and just get a haircut, but when he glanced at his watch, he realized there wasn't time. Then, he told himself he was being stupid because he'd seen Gabriel and he had hair as long as Sam's, maybe longer.
He left his room because he couldn't stay cooped up. Chuck drove him away from the kitchens, and Sam didn't dare go to the stables because just you watch, he'd step in something or he'd get hay over his pants and he'd show up at lunch smelling like a horse and then Gabriel would turn his nose up and that'd be the end of Sam Winchester, right then and there. So, he went to the gazebo -- already set up with mosquito netting, lace curtains for shade, and broad hammock sofas that stretched out on either side of a long table -- and he waited there, pacing nervously as the seconds and minutes passed.
"Stop being stupid, Sam," he muttered as he scrubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, and realizing what he was doing, cursed and wiped them off on the sofa cushions instead. "Shit, I'm gonna die."
"Yes, that's precisely the mindset you should have before entering negotiations with Gabriel," remarked a familiar voice from the gazebo entrance.
Sam whirled and saw Castiel holding aside one of the lace curtains to step past. His face was caught in shadow, but his eyes were still overbright despite that. Sam was incredibly grateful to see him in what would likely be his last moments if Gabriel was everything Chuck had indicated, and propriety be damned, it was so good to have Castiel near that Sam immediately moved to embrace him. He scooped Castiel close, nuzzling into his neck and sighing as all the tension just melted away.
"God, Cas--"
Castiel made a tight, pained noise and hissed, "Stop this," as he pushed Sam back by the shoulders. His whole face was pinched when Sam let him go, and even as Sam moved away, Castiel's fingers caught at his sleeves. He held on, but guided Sam back until he sat on the hammock sofa. Then, he too sat but on the far end -- not looking at Sam, not even trying to make eye contact. "I thought I would enjoy this, but I'm not. It feels very unpleasant, in fact."
Caught off guard, Sam stammered. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
Though Castiel's sharp look got aborted halfway through it, the irritation carried over just fine in his snarled, "Don't ask stupid questions." He squared his shoulders and his wings tightened up against his back. "You're lonely and you miss your brother. I was willing to--" Castiel's lips thinned as he held back his words. "Today's meeting with Gabriel and Dean is as much for me as it is for you. If all goes well and you still... At least, I'd know."
Glancing quickly at Sam, Castiel seemed to catch sight of Sam's utterly bewildered expression. He sighed, exasperated, and said, "Close your eyes."
"What--"
Apparently in no mood for Sam's questions, Castiel simply reached out to cover his eyes for him. His hand was smooth against Sam's face and light, barely touching so that the minute tremble in his fingers tickled.
"I want you to think about what's about to happen," Sam heard Castiel say. "My brother and his consort are about to show up and negotiate with you about your involvement in Dean's life. It won't be like you had it and it might not be everything you want, but it would mean you're no longer lonely. You wouldn't have to force yourself to work here and you wouldn't have to be my mate to accomplish your goal."
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Castiel's breath hitched ever so slightly, and Sam couldn't tell what it meant, if it meant anything at all. He only knew that he hadn't heard that particular sound from Castiel before because Castiel was always impeccably in control of himself -- except... maybe not for the past couple days...
"Are you thinking about that?" Castiel asked. His tone was so stern that Sam sort of switched mental gears very quickly in the direction he was supposed to go and said, "Yeah, yeah, I am," as he thought about going back to his old job and not having to deal with obscenely long hours and still being able to see his brother and being treated like a guest in this house instead of a servant.
It was good, thinking about those things. His entire time here hadn't exactly been easy sailing. He didn't know what he was doing most of the time. All the other servants had years of experience under their belts -- training in etiquette and clothing and cooking and culture and all kinds of stuff that Sam didn't know about -- while Sam just sort of fumbled around on Chuck's heels, grateful for being useful and wildly confused about why Castiel had bothered hiring him after seeing and smelling everything that he did.
Just like that, Sam's thoughts changed gears again, leading him through murkier waters where he hid Castiel's smile and the color of his wings in sunlight and the way he ate through books within a few days. It was there that Sam stored the near-tender way he ran Gabriel's house, taking care to accommodate the needs of every person who worked for him, and the way his fingers had tightened over Sam's shoulders while he'd snuffled behind his ear. Castiel's scent was there too -- the warm easiness that cottoned around all of Sam's broken parts -- and so were his eyes and so was the aching, bright hope that being able to see Dean would mean being able to see Castiel as well.
Sam heard a rustle of fabric as Castiel scooted closer and pressed his hand more firmly against his eyes, making sure that he couldn't see. When Castiel's soft breath wafted over his lips, Sam angled himself more invitingly, sure in that instant they were going to kiss and that he wanted Castiel to do it.
Castiel hovered close for one second, two seconds, and then shifted to the side with a sigh. His hand slipped away from Sam's eyes, and then he was slipping away from Sam entirely, rising from his seat as someone entered the gazebo. Sam barely heard Castiel's voice as he greeted their newcomers; he was too caught up in the wave of longing that surged with every step Castiel took away from him, but then the words registered and Sam scrambled to his feet.
"Sam Winchester," Castiel was saying, gesturing and smiling in a way that was very unlike him -- pretending, apparently, that they hadn't almost kissed less than a minute ago and absolutely not making eye contact as he made acquaintances. "Dean, of course, you know, but this is my brother, Gabriel, the Archangel of our house."
Gabriel was short was the first thing that popped into his head as he shook Gabriel's hand. Sam stood nearly a full head taller than him, and as he tried desperately not to make a comment about it aloud, he was taken aback by the shark's grin that overtook Gabriel's face -- even more so when Gabriel said, "So you're the kid that's trying to steal my consort! You're about to make my life very interesting."
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