[SPN Fic]: Life's a Drag - NC-17 - 1/1
A/N: I think everyone's done with this for now, so I'm immensely late, but better late than never, right? This is for moonofblindness's Five Acts Meme, for the prompt crossdressing. Fun times. :D
Title: Life's a Drag
Disclaimer: I, ladyknightanka, do not own Supernatural. This story is loosely based on the Norse myth where Loki (Gabriel) and Thor crossdress. Underlined things and pop-culture references aren't mine. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission.
Warnings: NC-17 for coarse language, crossdressing, oral sex, fondling, perverted demons, Gabriel being his usual smarmy self, and some spoilers for season 6.
Other Notes: ~4370. Gabriel/Adam. AU divergence from the finale.
Summary: When the colt is stolen by the demon regular of a drag club, Gabriel convinces Adam to go incognito with him and pick it up.
-
Life's a Drag (Especially When You're Adam)
-
“Why does it have to be me?” Adam asked for the umpteenth time, picking absentmindedly at the short, puffed sleeve of his dress, a monstrosity straight off of a Gothic Lolita porn set, just a little bit more extravagant than your average French maid outfit. One of his bra straps must have slipped again.
Gabriel managed right in time to trade the smirk fighting to get out for a long-suffering sigh. “We've talked about this, baby Winchester.” Adam made a face at the recurring nickname, but his protests were worlds better than the numb haze that had fallen over him since Hell. “Even you know, the colt can't be in the wrong hands, and the clever son-of-a-bitch who stole it has more security than freaking Masada. We're lucky the boogie-bug bit him and got him out of that angel-guarded pad of his. This is the only way.”
“But why me?” Adam pressed, not relenting in the slightest. There was a pretty blush forming on his cheeks, now, a sharp contrast to the black and white silk he wore, as he tried to smooth down his bouffant skirt. It kept riding up to expose his endlessly long, pale legs, not at all hidden by the laced-up leather dominatrix boots Gabriel had conjured for him.
“Uh, maybe because Sammy-boy looks like Hagrid? If I know queens, kiddo - and believe me, I do - they'd eat your brother alive and wear his balls as earrings,” Gabriel laughed. Adam, on the other hand, winced at the graphic imagery. Sam could be a dork sometimes, but no, too far was too far. “'Sides, you have a baby face - doe eyes, long eyelashes, pouting lips, the works. You're gonna be a hit, sweetheart!”
Adam pressed his lips together, which admittedly wouldn't help his case, considering the whole pouting thing, but it made him feel better to don his bitchface, at least, as if it was some sort of armor for him. His pride had already been crushed under the sharp heels he currently wore - he deserved some comfort, didn't he?
“What about Dean? He's pretty, I guess,” he inquired, crinkling his nose. In all truth, he didn't like to look at his brothers much, at least in the aesthetic sense, but it was his last ditch effort. There had to be a reason so many chicks threw themselves at Dean, right? The Winchesters were undoubtedly hot.
Gabriel took a moment to imagine Dean in drag. It would be amusing, to be sure, and he definitely had the cupid-bow mouth for it. As soon as you got to the brawny arms and the haggard, stubbly cheeks, however, he'd be a lost cause. Like Thor, the oldest Winchester was.
“Nice try, baby Winchester,” he eventually said, shaking his head and watching Adam's face fall. He'd have to teach the poor kid not to wear his heart on his sleeve, but that was a task for a later date. “You underestimate your brother's pride if you think that will work, and also, every demon this side of the world knows Dean freaking Winchester. He'd get us caught with our hand on the lid of the cookie jar, never mind with the actual treat, with that foul mouth of his.”
Mm, cookies. Later, Gabriel would bribe Adam to show off the skills that had earned him the last three -- minus the years he was dead -- Windom bake-offs in a row.
Unaware of his thoughts, Adam asked, “So that's it, then?” defeated not just because he couldn't seem to find a way out of this, but also because his tiny underpants were giving him a wedgie.
“Aw, buck up, sport,” Gabriel replied, clapping his hands together. A small, frilly hat appeared between the appendages and Adam actually looked like he would cry. The expression was so pitiful, so heartrending, that the archangel felt his inner troll run for its bridge and cursed Winchester puppy faces. “Here, lemme help you,” he said, with a considerably greater amount of gentleness, as he stood in front of the boy on his tip toes and tenderly settled the white cap onto his fair locks, pinning it into place. “You really don't look bad, Addie.”
Adam softened at the nickname, something his mother used to call him, but he grabbed Gabriel's hands with a new air of desperation when the angel made to pull away.
“I can't do this,” he murmured. “I'm already the family outcast - I'm already the one they wanted to leave in Hell. Please don't make me do this.”
Gabriel could have easily broken out of his grasp, but he didn't. Instead, only his thumbs escaped, tracing soothing circles on the slope of Adam's knuckles, not permanently roughened from constant fights as his brothers' were. The former trickster felt the last bit of humor he was hoarding slip away.
“Shh,” he crooned, tone heavy with affection. “I ain't gonna spoon-feed you to the wolves, babe. I'll be there, too.”
Adam's eyes, hence locked ashamedly on his shoes, strayed up to meet the angel's. “And you'll be dressed the same?” he prompted, lower lip still jutting out.
“Hells yeah,” Gabriel reassuringly answered, grinning. “After all, I raised you from Perdition. Can't get rid of me anymore, hot stuff. Plus, I am smoking in a little black dress.”
Adam rolled his eyes, before bashfully returning the angel's smile. “I don't want to get rid of you,” he said quietly, taking his hands back with the utmost reluctance, then letting them hang at his side, unsure of what else to do with them.
“You just remember that when I'm administering your makeup,” Gabriel warned, still beaming at a billion watts. Mentally, he crowed at the thought of giving the Winchesters a little taste of what having a sister would be like.
-
Dean spat out his beer as soon as he saw them, but Sam was even worse - or more hilarious, depending on how you considered it. He dropped a heavy book of Enochian translations right on his foot and didn't so much as flinch, choosing instead to gape open-mouthed at a furiously red Adam and a saucily winking Gabriel. It was probably a good thing Bobby wasn't there, what with the old hunter's weak ticker and all.
“Um, we're ready,” Adam said, looking anywhere but at his brothers, his gorgeous blue eyes popping out even more due to the kohl Gabriel had expertly lined them with, despite the boy's incessant, disruptive flinching.
Dean stole back his tongue long enough to ask, “You want me to drop you off?”
“Nah,” Gabriel cut in, licking his lips. Yum, strawberry lip-gloss. “I can mojo us. It'll be quicker.”
“Well, okay...” Dean replied reluctantly, trying to catch his youngest brother's gaze. When he did, he meaningfully added, “You stay safe, Adam. That gun don't mean much if you bite it again, bro.”
Adam nodded, mellowing somewhat, and Gabriel offered the boy his newly manicured hand. “Ready to go, corazón?”
“Wait!” Sam exclaimed, abruptly rushing forward till he was face to face - or, well, chest to face, even after factoring in the pencil heels - with the diminutive angel. He leaned down low to make up for it, whispering, “You keep him safe, okay? Really, really safe - every part of him,” into the shell of his ear, covered now by the bangs the former trickster had straightened out for the occasion.
Before Adam could pose an argument over the overprotective coddling, Gabriel said, “Aye-aye, Captain Gargantua. And, by the way, think about putting some ice on that foot, yeah? It's starting to shift colors under the shoe.”
It was only after the archangel and his charge disappeared in a flurry of wing-beats that Sam comprehended the advice he'd been given. His yell echoed throughout the salvage yard as Dean rolled his eyes.
Having younger brothers sucked sometimes.
-
The club, Queen of the Hill, was small, even inconspicuous, if you didn't know where to look. Then again, most of its clients were repeat customers and rarely did a new face off the streets visit it on a whim, unless it was recommended by an existing patron.
The big, beefy bouncer up front, standing at about Sam's height, eyed them from behind his obscure black shades. “Whaddya want?” he asked, in a surprisingly high-pitched, almost maidenly voice.
“My girlfriend and I heard this was a nice place to dance,” Gabriel answered, leaning forward so that his fake boobs, pillowed with all of Bobby's napkins, would bounce. His own voice was sultry, a very good impression of a woman's, and he fluttered his stick-on lashes for good measure, twirling the ponytail hair extensions he'd tacked on.
The bouncer raised his eyebrows, looking between them, then smiled suspiciously. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adam replied, after Gabriel ribbed him with his elbow, and the angel made to do so again when he noticed that Adam didn't even try for anything but his usual deep baritone. However, the way his eyes tucked down coyly, punctuated by his hands innocuously clasping together over the swell of his dress, seemed to melt their opponent's cold heart.
For precaution's sake, Gabriel added, “Bruce sent us,” because there was always a Bruce in this particular variety of setting. “Or, should I say, Brianna did.” He threw in a conspiratorial wink.
“Well, okay,” the bouncer conceded, stepping out of their way so they could enter the club. He leered at them the entire time, as raucous pop music assaulted their ears.
“Fuck,” Adam muttered. “They couldn't play anything but Lady Gaga?”
Gabriel shrugged. She was kind of catchy, but he had to admit, “She's crazy, even by my standards, which is saying something.”
Adam nodded distractedly and allowed Gabriel to take his hand, to lead him to a small, unoccupied booth. He seemed mostly lost in this type of rowdy setting, having been your average good boy next door his whole life, and the erstwhile trickster inwardly tutted at the thought. A teenager who didn't party hardy -- he'd have to change that.
“Fried chicken, my good lady!” he told a passing waitress, who was much too buff, in his humble opinion, to make a good queen. Maybe he should have brought Sam along, after all. “As for me, your finest, fruitiest daiquiri!” She nodded and flitted off, the cording muscles on her back exposed by the halter top she wore.
“Gabriel,” Adam protested, pressing his lips together.
The archangel quirked both brows, unperturbed. “Hey, I already got you to crossdress, doll-face. You really gonna make a big deal 'bout eating, after starving yourself for so long?”
“I didn't starve myself,” Adam murmured, too soft to be genuinely argumentative. “I... You know what, fine, but if the dress gets stained, it's on you, and we have to start on that demon as soon as we're done. You're not getting more than one drink.” Angel: 2, human: 0.
“Boo, you whore,” Gabriel replied, feigning a pout. He didn't care all that much, though, about alcohol or damaged couture. Some things simply mattered more. When the waitress arrived with their order, he surreptitiously watched Adam pick at his food over the wide brim of his glass, pushing the tiny umbrella this way and that.
The demon they were looking for, inhabiting the body of a middle-aged lawyer who hadn't even bothered to change out of his suit, was not hard to find at all, even among the scattering of his kindred beasties and humans. In fact, he found them before they had even finished dining, sauntering over after catching sight of them from the dance floor, where he'd been rubbing up against some jailbait kid.
“Well, hullo, my angels,” he began, grinning like a shark. He probably didn't even realize how ironically accurate his statement was, the poor fool.
Gabriel smiled back, sweeter than the drink on his breath, while Adam greeted him with a soft, "Hello," this time in an attempted feminine tone.
Yet, when the demon continued with, “Wanna dance, sweetheart?” Adam faltered, discomfort seeping through the cracks of his passive mask.
“I sure do, tiger,” Gabriel said in his place, making to stand up immediately. The demon's leer etched wider as the archangel accepted his proffered hand. Before his black-eyed Romeo could begin twirling him around, however, Gabriel pointedly locked gazes his charge, warning him in that instant to be careful. Adam nodded curtly, and the sucker from Hell took it to mean 'girl talk', tugging his shorter partner away.
For a while, Gabriel let him do as he pleased, nodding as he made idle small talk, allowing himself to be spun and dipped. He only pulled away, forcing a demure giggle, when he felt sharp teeth - Rupert's teeth, because apparently Lucy's spawn had run out of bad-ass names to go by - along his neck.
“Whoa there, sugar, you should buy a gal dinner first,” he laughed.
Rupert's face pinched, upset by his partner's sudden show of gentility, then rearranged into some semblance of neutral again. “That's okay. I was hoping to get to know your friend better, anyway. That is one sweet piece of ass she has.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes and gritted out, “What about mine?” It wasn't that he didn't agree, and while he loved to parade the timid human around, he had a line that had just been crossed. For his efforts, said ass was slapped, and he saw Adam glaring at them from his table, scaring away all of his potentially interested suitors with the fierce expression.
Rupert didn't seem to notice. “What do ya say we go get some fresh air, honey?” he flirtatiously asked the boy.
“Um, I-I don't know,” Adam said, becoming anxious again. “Me and...Gabriela came here together.”
Gabriel met his eyes and shook his head. “Go on, Apples,” he crooned, pulling the nickname out of his ass. “Trust me.”
“Apples, huh? I'd like to take a bite outta you, baby,” the demon jibed, no doubt in the literal sense.
Adam paid him no mind. “I do,” he told the archangel, conveying so much emotion within those two little words, before allowing Rupert to take his hand and guide him out of the club.
Gabriel waited two minutes, then followed them out. In the impotent vessel he wore, two minutes would probably be enough for Rupert, so it was quite generous of him.
Too generous, he realized, when he saw how Adam was pinned like a butterfly to an alley wall, Rupert's stockier frame heavy against him. With his inhuman strength, he'd be impossible to push away.
Gabriel strode up behind the pair, watching Adam's eyes round gratefully, his panicked breath slowing. The archangel smiled soothingly at him, his own eyes hardening only once he'd tapped Rupert's shoulder and caused him to turn.
“Oh, did you wanna join us, angel?” the clueless idiot asked.
Gabriel allowed his hand to do the talking for him, drifting from the demon's shoulders to the nape of his neck, then stopping on his head, which was just beginning to bald. He traced his finger there, almost painfully digging in the tip of his nail, then gripped Rupert tight with all of his own strength. Before the exorcism could even start, Hellboy began to scream.
Adam watched with wide eyes as the demon's inner fire puttered out. Gabriel dropped the now empty vessel at his feet and grinned at him. “Sorry about that, babe. Didn't mean to get all smitey on ya.”
“N-no, it's okay. That was pretty cool,” Adam replied in a hush. Now, Gabriel could see that his blond hair was tussled, the cap nearly hanging off his head, and new bruises were blossoming on his throat even as he sucked in air, trying to flatten his skirt, which had hitched up.
Gabriel growled at the demon, wishing he could bring the wrath of God down on his head again, but dead was dead and giving his vacated meatsuit a kick wouldn't help Adam now.
“Here, let me get that,” he told the boy kindly, stepping over Rupert and touching his neck, his grace surging through the length of his fingers and out the tips. The bluish color melted away, leaving completely unblemished skin, and the former trickster felt Adam's pulse begin to race, battering like a bird against its cage bars rather than calming down. “What's the matter?” he probed.
“N-nothing,” Adam said, going as red as the smeared cherry lip-liner he wore, but his back was stiff against the graffiti-tagged wall behind him, his fake nails boring into the brick, and his pupils were completely blown.
Pressed so close against him, almost chest to chest, Gabriel suddenly diagnosed the problem. “Are you...horny?” Adam shook his head miserably, as the trickster knew he would, so Gabriel ran his hand down the velvety side of his dress, hesitating only when he reached the smooth skin of his bare thigh. “You wanna bet?”
“Okay, I'm kinda turned on,” Adam admitted, no less unhappy, and the archangel smirked.
“Good,” he purred. “I thought it was just me.” Before his charge could reply, he silently thanked the boost his heels gave him and latched onto his soft mouth, sticking his tongue down Adam's throat when his lips formed a shocked 'o'. Ooh, strawberry and cherry made such a delicious blend.
When he finally pulled away, Adam accusing declared, “You kissed me!” There was a line forming between his eyebrows and he was a beautiful sight, even offended as a wet cat.
“And you,” Gabriel returned, dropping to a huskier pitch, “are actually wearing panties, you naughty boy.”
“Y-you gave them to me!” Adam objected, breath stuttering when he felt the former trickster fondling the aforementioned silk. “Oh!”
Gabriel broached even further into his personal space, nipping at his jawline, and murmured, “As a joke. Didn't think you'd really put 'em on,” against the heated skin. He swallowed the complaints Adam no doubt had with another kiss, relishing in the way the fabric slid fervidly against his palm, slick and black and shiny, something he'd seen in a lingerie magazine he'd been looking through a few days ago, which had ultimately caught his interest. He wondered if it was as good for Adam or if it taxed against his arousal. Either way, it got him so damn hot.
“C-can we get outta here?” Adam pleaded, lids at half mast and lashes undulating like tiny, feathery angel wings. Gabriel nodded at once, happy to comply.
-
They hit the Egyptian-sheeted mattress Gabriel had nuked them onto still attached at the lips, one of Adam's hands fumbling with the fluid material of the trickster's dress, baring his tanned back to the unoccupied suite as he ground down into his charge, his fake hair hitting the ground not far away after Adam got a good grip onto it.
The archangel returned the favor, holding Adam in place by his own short locks, the blond strands that slipped through the cracks of his fingers gleaming in the faint lamplight as he alternatively nipped the boy's tongue and licked it, sucking it into his own wet cavern.
When he finally deigned to pull away, Adam was panting heavily, his eyelashes fluttering and his already full lips further swollen. “Whoa,” he managed weakly.
“Yeah,” Gabriel grinned, proud as the cat who'd stolen both the canary and the cream. “If ya like that, just wait till we hit the next course, babe.”
Adam smiled at the archangel faintly, but held him at bay by his shoulders. “I - you sure you wanna do this, Gabe? ...With me?” With his already huge eyes going even wider, his pupils dilated and watery, he was the very picture of self-conscious, of someone who'd been hurt before and couldn't bear it again.
Gabriel searched his face, so close to it that he could kiss him again in an instant, then declared, “More than anything, sweetheart, and I'll prove it.”
Adam's forehead furrowed in that adorably confused way he had, but before he could get a word in edgewise, the ex-trickster swept down between his open thighs and spread them further, requiring not even the least of his strength to lift them up and hook them knee-first over his own shoulders, letting the white leather boots hang there.
“Whoa,” Gabriel heard again, from somewhere over his head.
He smirked, Adam's infamous panties in his line of sight, his erection straining against the satin fabric, as Gabriel smoothed his thumbs along the tender skin of his human's inner thighs.
“Ever had someone go down on you?” he asked, grin broadening at Adam's affronted scowl. “Well, lemme tell you, kiddo, it ain't got nothing on an angel.”
Just like that, the panties disappeared, leaving Adam gasping at the novel airy sensation. He had complained about them earlier, so it was only fair, but Gabriel was a beneficent soul and he swallowed his cock in a smooth bob of motion before he could actually get too discomfited by it.
“Oh, Jesus!” Adam cried, throwing back his head, as one of the former trickster's palms gravitated to play his balls, the nails on the other hand still leaving crescent marks in his thigh, as that svelte tongue traced shapes on the crown of his dick, painting down the base and flitting back up.
Later, Gabriel would tell him how much of a no-no it was to mention one's parents - or, well, Parent with a capital 'p' - when in coitus. Later, he'd also tell him, archangel or no, to lay off on the hair pulling just a bit. Bald vessels were not pretty vessels.
Now, however, he merely hummed, sucking even harder, the vibration echoed by Adam's throaty moan as he came.
-
About an hour afterward, the angel lay in bed, his favorite human wrapped firmly around him, a blond head pillowed on his chest. He smiled down at Adam fondly, carding gentle fingers through his sweaty, bed-mussed locks.
Yes, the archangel Gabriel, the god Loki, trickster extraordinaire, was snuggling. It was something the older Winchesters wouldn't think possible of him, but this was Adam, his human, who trusted him implicitly when no one else did, and their bond was a bit stronger than manly shows of pride. If he died here, with Adam's deep, slow breaths, for once uninterrupted by nightmares, circulating across his naked torso, he could live with that. Although, he had to admit, he missed the dresses, now lying in a messy pile near the trash, a smidgen.
Of course, when Adam's cellphone rang - from somewhere under the bed, of all places - Gabriel recalled his Father's capricious sense of humor and glared up at the ceiling, then zapped the pesky device into his palm, before Adam's sleepy mumbles could shift to conscious whines.
It was Dean. Obviously, it had to be Dean. “Yellow, this is Donald Trump. Can't gab right now, what with my upcoming presidential endeavors and all, but be sure to leave a message with my secretary, Sexual Harassment Claim #64.”
There was a pause, before Dean inquired, “...Adam? That you, pal?” and Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“No,” he punctuated, taking mercy on the eldest Winchester, though he regretted his boundless generosity when he heard Dean curse in disappointment. “The kid's a bit tied up-” With the sheets tangled around Adam's legs, it wasn't exactly a lie, “-but I'll tell him what's up. ...What is up?”
“Well, Cas called after he finally checked the voice-messages I left him and he did a bit of snooping for us. He said that Balthazar, apparently, had figured it'd be fun to 'borrow' the colt,” Dean explained, his irritation redirecting to a different winged menace.
“Oh, so that's what happened,” Gabriel disinterestedly answered, picking at a loose cord of twine on their blankets.
Sensing something off about his tone, Dean suspiciously asked, “Hey, how come you didn't notice that the other side had nabbed it? And why's it takin' you so long to gank a lone demon, anyway?”
“Hey, everybody makes mistakes,” the mischievous trickster promptly returned, before adding on a hasty, “Thanks for letting us know. Love ya, Deano, but I've gotta split!”
He hung up in the nick of time, ignoring the hunter's aggravated grumbles and the clambering footsteps that could have only belonged to Sam, probably stomping his way over to take the phone. Those two were incredibly, annoyingly overprotective of their newly risen baby brother and it was sort of cute but mostly bothersome, especially since Sam had left Gabriel in charge of defending said little brother's honor, only for the angel to compromise it himself. Wouldn't that be a fun topic to discuss come family game night?
When he sat back with a sigh and punted the tiny contraption away, content to be rid of the dynamic duo, the trickster found ice blue eyes batting up at him.
“Who's that?” The words were muffled against Gabriel's twitching skin, Adam's head nuzzling ticklishly over his belly, and he shivered in pleasure.
“Your knights in shining armor,” he finally answered, an image forming in his mind of a giant man chasing after him with a sword, his slightly shorter companion trailing them on a metallic horse, blaring mullet rock from its bit. Another shudder wracked through Gabriel's frame at the thought, as he thanked his Father for ending that particularly dangerous era. Sewage problems aside, getting stabbed by a sword was a total bitch.
Adam merely hummed, unaffected, and murmured, “You know, you're gonna have to tell them we're dating eventually. No more freebies for you, Gnomeo.”
“Oh joy,” Gabriel muttered, with false cheer. “Guess my fantasies will become reality, after all.”
Adam laughed, squeezing him even tighter, as if he was a - barely - overgrown teddy bear and not an extremely dangerous warrior angel. “Lucky you.”
-
And No Offense was Meant to the Names Rupert or Bruce...
-
A/N: This was supposed to be a bit more smutty, but that particular muse is on a vacation, so I hope you (especially moonofblindness) enjoyed this PWSP (plot with slight porn). I adore Norse myth, so when I saw your list of pairings and acts, I knew I had to do a bit of a tribute to my favorite one. You should all find it and read it (I tried to find it for you, but couldn't, though it is in my myth book) and, although it's Marvel universe, you should also check out norsekink. ♥
Title: Life's a Drag
Disclaimer: I, ladyknightanka, do not own Supernatural. This story is loosely based on the Norse myth where Loki (Gabriel) and Thor crossdress. Underlined things and pop-culture references aren't mine. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission.
Warnings: NC-17 for coarse language, crossdressing, oral sex, fondling, perverted demons, Gabriel being his usual smarmy self, and some spoilers for season 6.
Other Notes: ~4370. Gabriel/Adam. AU divergence from the finale.
Summary: When the colt is stolen by the demon regular of a drag club, Gabriel convinces Adam to go incognito with him and pick it up.
-
Life's a Drag (Especially When You're Adam)
-
“Why does it have to be me?” Adam asked for the umpteenth time, picking absentmindedly at the short, puffed sleeve of his dress, a monstrosity straight off of a Gothic Lolita porn set, just a little bit more extravagant than your average French maid outfit. One of his bra straps must have slipped again.
Gabriel managed right in time to trade the smirk fighting to get out for a long-suffering sigh. “We've talked about this, baby Winchester.” Adam made a face at the recurring nickname, but his protests were worlds better than the numb haze that had fallen over him since Hell. “Even you know, the colt can't be in the wrong hands, and the clever son-of-a-bitch who stole it has more security than freaking Masada. We're lucky the boogie-bug bit him and got him out of that angel-guarded pad of his. This is the only way.”
“But why me?” Adam pressed, not relenting in the slightest. There was a pretty blush forming on his cheeks, now, a sharp contrast to the black and white silk he wore, as he tried to smooth down his bouffant skirt. It kept riding up to expose his endlessly long, pale legs, not at all hidden by the laced-up leather dominatrix boots Gabriel had conjured for him.
“Uh, maybe because Sammy-boy looks like Hagrid? If I know queens, kiddo - and believe me, I do - they'd eat your brother alive and wear his balls as earrings,” Gabriel laughed. Adam, on the other hand, winced at the graphic imagery. Sam could be a dork sometimes, but no, too far was too far. “'Sides, you have a baby face - doe eyes, long eyelashes, pouting lips, the works. You're gonna be a hit, sweetheart!”
Adam pressed his lips together, which admittedly wouldn't help his case, considering the whole pouting thing, but it made him feel better to don his bitchface, at least, as if it was some sort of armor for him. His pride had already been crushed under the sharp heels he currently wore - he deserved some comfort, didn't he?
“What about Dean? He's pretty, I guess,” he inquired, crinkling his nose. In all truth, he didn't like to look at his brothers much, at least in the aesthetic sense, but it was his last ditch effort. There had to be a reason so many chicks threw themselves at Dean, right? The Winchesters were undoubtedly hot.
Gabriel took a moment to imagine Dean in drag. It would be amusing, to be sure, and he definitely had the cupid-bow mouth for it. As soon as you got to the brawny arms and the haggard, stubbly cheeks, however, he'd be a lost cause. Like Thor, the oldest Winchester was.
“Nice try, baby Winchester,” he eventually said, shaking his head and watching Adam's face fall. He'd have to teach the poor kid not to wear his heart on his sleeve, but that was a task for a later date. “You underestimate your brother's pride if you think that will work, and also, every demon this side of the world knows Dean freaking Winchester. He'd get us caught with our hand on the lid of the cookie jar, never mind with the actual treat, with that foul mouth of his.”
Mm, cookies. Later, Gabriel would bribe Adam to show off the skills that had earned him the last three -- minus the years he was dead -- Windom bake-offs in a row.
Unaware of his thoughts, Adam asked, “So that's it, then?” defeated not just because he couldn't seem to find a way out of this, but also because his tiny underpants were giving him a wedgie.
“Aw, buck up, sport,” Gabriel replied, clapping his hands together. A small, frilly hat appeared between the appendages and Adam actually looked like he would cry. The expression was so pitiful, so heartrending, that the archangel felt his inner troll run for its bridge and cursed Winchester puppy faces. “Here, lemme help you,” he said, with a considerably greater amount of gentleness, as he stood in front of the boy on his tip toes and tenderly settled the white cap onto his fair locks, pinning it into place. “You really don't look bad, Addie.”
Adam softened at the nickname, something his mother used to call him, but he grabbed Gabriel's hands with a new air of desperation when the angel made to pull away.
“I can't do this,” he murmured. “I'm already the family outcast - I'm already the one they wanted to leave in Hell. Please don't make me do this.”
Gabriel could have easily broken out of his grasp, but he didn't. Instead, only his thumbs escaped, tracing soothing circles on the slope of Adam's knuckles, not permanently roughened from constant fights as his brothers' were. The former trickster felt the last bit of humor he was hoarding slip away.
“Shh,” he crooned, tone heavy with affection. “I ain't gonna spoon-feed you to the wolves, babe. I'll be there, too.”
Adam's eyes, hence locked ashamedly on his shoes, strayed up to meet the angel's. “And you'll be dressed the same?” he prompted, lower lip still jutting out.
“Hells yeah,” Gabriel reassuringly answered, grinning. “After all, I raised you from Perdition. Can't get rid of me anymore, hot stuff. Plus, I am smoking in a little black dress.”
Adam rolled his eyes, before bashfully returning the angel's smile. “I don't want to get rid of you,” he said quietly, taking his hands back with the utmost reluctance, then letting them hang at his side, unsure of what else to do with them.
“You just remember that when I'm administering your makeup,” Gabriel warned, still beaming at a billion watts. Mentally, he crowed at the thought of giving the Winchesters a little taste of what having a sister would be like.
-
Dean spat out his beer as soon as he saw them, but Sam was even worse - or more hilarious, depending on how you considered it. He dropped a heavy book of Enochian translations right on his foot and didn't so much as flinch, choosing instead to gape open-mouthed at a furiously red Adam and a saucily winking Gabriel. It was probably a good thing Bobby wasn't there, what with the old hunter's weak ticker and all.
“Um, we're ready,” Adam said, looking anywhere but at his brothers, his gorgeous blue eyes popping out even more due to the kohl Gabriel had expertly lined them with, despite the boy's incessant, disruptive flinching.
Dean stole back his tongue long enough to ask, “You want me to drop you off?”
“Nah,” Gabriel cut in, licking his lips. Yum, strawberry lip-gloss. “I can mojo us. It'll be quicker.”
“Well, okay...” Dean replied reluctantly, trying to catch his youngest brother's gaze. When he did, he meaningfully added, “You stay safe, Adam. That gun don't mean much if you bite it again, bro.”
Adam nodded, mellowing somewhat, and Gabriel offered the boy his newly manicured hand. “Ready to go, corazón?”
“Wait!” Sam exclaimed, abruptly rushing forward till he was face to face - or, well, chest to face, even after factoring in the pencil heels - with the diminutive angel. He leaned down low to make up for it, whispering, “You keep him safe, okay? Really, really safe - every part of him,” into the shell of his ear, covered now by the bangs the former trickster had straightened out for the occasion.
Before Adam could pose an argument over the overprotective coddling, Gabriel said, “Aye-aye, Captain Gargantua. And, by the way, think about putting some ice on that foot, yeah? It's starting to shift colors under the shoe.”
It was only after the archangel and his charge disappeared in a flurry of wing-beats that Sam comprehended the advice he'd been given. His yell echoed throughout the salvage yard as Dean rolled his eyes.
Having younger brothers sucked sometimes.
-
The club, Queen of the Hill, was small, even inconspicuous, if you didn't know where to look. Then again, most of its clients were repeat customers and rarely did a new face off the streets visit it on a whim, unless it was recommended by an existing patron.
The big, beefy bouncer up front, standing at about Sam's height, eyed them from behind his obscure black shades. “Whaddya want?” he asked, in a surprisingly high-pitched, almost maidenly voice.
“My girlfriend and I heard this was a nice place to dance,” Gabriel answered, leaning forward so that his fake boobs, pillowed with all of Bobby's napkins, would bounce. His own voice was sultry, a very good impression of a woman's, and he fluttered his stick-on lashes for good measure, twirling the ponytail hair extensions he'd tacked on.
The bouncer raised his eyebrows, looking between them, then smiled suspiciously. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adam replied, after Gabriel ribbed him with his elbow, and the angel made to do so again when he noticed that Adam didn't even try for anything but his usual deep baritone. However, the way his eyes tucked down coyly, punctuated by his hands innocuously clasping together over the swell of his dress, seemed to melt their opponent's cold heart.
For precaution's sake, Gabriel added, “Bruce sent us,” because there was always a Bruce in this particular variety of setting. “Or, should I say, Brianna did.” He threw in a conspiratorial wink.
“Well, okay,” the bouncer conceded, stepping out of their way so they could enter the club. He leered at them the entire time, as raucous pop music assaulted their ears.
“Fuck,” Adam muttered. “They couldn't play anything but Lady Gaga?”
Gabriel shrugged. She was kind of catchy, but he had to admit, “She's crazy, even by my standards, which is saying something.”
Adam nodded distractedly and allowed Gabriel to take his hand, to lead him to a small, unoccupied booth. He seemed mostly lost in this type of rowdy setting, having been your average good boy next door his whole life, and the erstwhile trickster inwardly tutted at the thought. A teenager who didn't party hardy -- he'd have to change that.
“Fried chicken, my good lady!” he told a passing waitress, who was much too buff, in his humble opinion, to make a good queen. Maybe he should have brought Sam along, after all. “As for me, your finest, fruitiest daiquiri!” She nodded and flitted off, the cording muscles on her back exposed by the halter top she wore.
“Gabriel,” Adam protested, pressing his lips together.
The archangel quirked both brows, unperturbed. “Hey, I already got you to crossdress, doll-face. You really gonna make a big deal 'bout eating, after starving yourself for so long?”
“I didn't starve myself,” Adam murmured, too soft to be genuinely argumentative. “I... You know what, fine, but if the dress gets stained, it's on you, and we have to start on that demon as soon as we're done. You're not getting more than one drink.” Angel: 2, human: 0.
“Boo, you whore,” Gabriel replied, feigning a pout. He didn't care all that much, though, about alcohol or damaged couture. Some things simply mattered more. When the waitress arrived with their order, he surreptitiously watched Adam pick at his food over the wide brim of his glass, pushing the tiny umbrella this way and that.
The demon they were looking for, inhabiting the body of a middle-aged lawyer who hadn't even bothered to change out of his suit, was not hard to find at all, even among the scattering of his kindred beasties and humans. In fact, he found them before they had even finished dining, sauntering over after catching sight of them from the dance floor, where he'd been rubbing up against some jailbait kid.
“Well, hullo, my angels,” he began, grinning like a shark. He probably didn't even realize how ironically accurate his statement was, the poor fool.
Gabriel smiled back, sweeter than the drink on his breath, while Adam greeted him with a soft, "Hello," this time in an attempted feminine tone.
Yet, when the demon continued with, “Wanna dance, sweetheart?” Adam faltered, discomfort seeping through the cracks of his passive mask.
“I sure do, tiger,” Gabriel said in his place, making to stand up immediately. The demon's leer etched wider as the archangel accepted his proffered hand. Before his black-eyed Romeo could begin twirling him around, however, Gabriel pointedly locked gazes his charge, warning him in that instant to be careful. Adam nodded curtly, and the sucker from Hell took it to mean 'girl talk', tugging his shorter partner away.
For a while, Gabriel let him do as he pleased, nodding as he made idle small talk, allowing himself to be spun and dipped. He only pulled away, forcing a demure giggle, when he felt sharp teeth - Rupert's teeth, because apparently Lucy's spawn had run out of bad-ass names to go by - along his neck.
“Whoa there, sugar, you should buy a gal dinner first,” he laughed.
Rupert's face pinched, upset by his partner's sudden show of gentility, then rearranged into some semblance of neutral again. “That's okay. I was hoping to get to know your friend better, anyway. That is one sweet piece of ass she has.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes and gritted out, “What about mine?” It wasn't that he didn't agree, and while he loved to parade the timid human around, he had a line that had just been crossed. For his efforts, said ass was slapped, and he saw Adam glaring at them from his table, scaring away all of his potentially interested suitors with the fierce expression.
Rupert didn't seem to notice. “What do ya say we go get some fresh air, honey?” he flirtatiously asked the boy.
“Um, I-I don't know,” Adam said, becoming anxious again. “Me and...Gabriela came here together.”
Gabriel met his eyes and shook his head. “Go on, Apples,” he crooned, pulling the nickname out of his ass. “Trust me.”
“Apples, huh? I'd like to take a bite outta you, baby,” the demon jibed, no doubt in the literal sense.
Adam paid him no mind. “I do,” he told the archangel, conveying so much emotion within those two little words, before allowing Rupert to take his hand and guide him out of the club.
Gabriel waited two minutes, then followed them out. In the impotent vessel he wore, two minutes would probably be enough for Rupert, so it was quite generous of him.
Too generous, he realized, when he saw how Adam was pinned like a butterfly to an alley wall, Rupert's stockier frame heavy against him. With his inhuman strength, he'd be impossible to push away.
Gabriel strode up behind the pair, watching Adam's eyes round gratefully, his panicked breath slowing. The archangel smiled soothingly at him, his own eyes hardening only once he'd tapped Rupert's shoulder and caused him to turn.
“Oh, did you wanna join us, angel?” the clueless idiot asked.
Gabriel allowed his hand to do the talking for him, drifting from the demon's shoulders to the nape of his neck, then stopping on his head, which was just beginning to bald. He traced his finger there, almost painfully digging in the tip of his nail, then gripped Rupert tight with all of his own strength. Before the exorcism could even start, Hellboy began to scream.
Adam watched with wide eyes as the demon's inner fire puttered out. Gabriel dropped the now empty vessel at his feet and grinned at him. “Sorry about that, babe. Didn't mean to get all smitey on ya.”
“N-no, it's okay. That was pretty cool,” Adam replied in a hush. Now, Gabriel could see that his blond hair was tussled, the cap nearly hanging off his head, and new bruises were blossoming on his throat even as he sucked in air, trying to flatten his skirt, which had hitched up.
Gabriel growled at the demon, wishing he could bring the wrath of God down on his head again, but dead was dead and giving his vacated meatsuit a kick wouldn't help Adam now.
“Here, let me get that,” he told the boy kindly, stepping over Rupert and touching his neck, his grace surging through the length of his fingers and out the tips. The bluish color melted away, leaving completely unblemished skin, and the former trickster felt Adam's pulse begin to race, battering like a bird against its cage bars rather than calming down. “What's the matter?” he probed.
“N-nothing,” Adam said, going as red as the smeared cherry lip-liner he wore, but his back was stiff against the graffiti-tagged wall behind him, his fake nails boring into the brick, and his pupils were completely blown.
Pressed so close against him, almost chest to chest, Gabriel suddenly diagnosed the problem. “Are you...horny?” Adam shook his head miserably, as the trickster knew he would, so Gabriel ran his hand down the velvety side of his dress, hesitating only when he reached the smooth skin of his bare thigh. “You wanna bet?”
“Okay, I'm kinda turned on,” Adam admitted, no less unhappy, and the archangel smirked.
“Good,” he purred. “I thought it was just me.” Before his charge could reply, he silently thanked the boost his heels gave him and latched onto his soft mouth, sticking his tongue down Adam's throat when his lips formed a shocked 'o'. Ooh, strawberry and cherry made such a delicious blend.
When he finally pulled away, Adam accusing declared, “You kissed me!” There was a line forming between his eyebrows and he was a beautiful sight, even offended as a wet cat.
“And you,” Gabriel returned, dropping to a huskier pitch, “are actually wearing panties, you naughty boy.”
“Y-you gave them to me!” Adam objected, breath stuttering when he felt the former trickster fondling the aforementioned silk. “Oh!”
Gabriel broached even further into his personal space, nipping at his jawline, and murmured, “As a joke. Didn't think you'd really put 'em on,” against the heated skin. He swallowed the complaints Adam no doubt had with another kiss, relishing in the way the fabric slid fervidly against his palm, slick and black and shiny, something he'd seen in a lingerie magazine he'd been looking through a few days ago, which had ultimately caught his interest. He wondered if it was as good for Adam or if it taxed against his arousal. Either way, it got him so damn hot.
“C-can we get outta here?” Adam pleaded, lids at half mast and lashes undulating like tiny, feathery angel wings. Gabriel nodded at once, happy to comply.
-
They hit the Egyptian-sheeted mattress Gabriel had nuked them onto still attached at the lips, one of Adam's hands fumbling with the fluid material of the trickster's dress, baring his tanned back to the unoccupied suite as he ground down into his charge, his fake hair hitting the ground not far away after Adam got a good grip onto it.
The archangel returned the favor, holding Adam in place by his own short locks, the blond strands that slipped through the cracks of his fingers gleaming in the faint lamplight as he alternatively nipped the boy's tongue and licked it, sucking it into his own wet cavern.
When he finally deigned to pull away, Adam was panting heavily, his eyelashes fluttering and his already full lips further swollen. “Whoa,” he managed weakly.
“Yeah,” Gabriel grinned, proud as the cat who'd stolen both the canary and the cream. “If ya like that, just wait till we hit the next course, babe.”
Adam smiled at the archangel faintly, but held him at bay by his shoulders. “I - you sure you wanna do this, Gabe? ...With me?” With his already huge eyes going even wider, his pupils dilated and watery, he was the very picture of self-conscious, of someone who'd been hurt before and couldn't bear it again.
Gabriel searched his face, so close to it that he could kiss him again in an instant, then declared, “More than anything, sweetheart, and I'll prove it.”
Adam's forehead furrowed in that adorably confused way he had, but before he could get a word in edgewise, the ex-trickster swept down between his open thighs and spread them further, requiring not even the least of his strength to lift them up and hook them knee-first over his own shoulders, letting the white leather boots hang there.
“Whoa,” Gabriel heard again, from somewhere over his head.
He smirked, Adam's infamous panties in his line of sight, his erection straining against the satin fabric, as Gabriel smoothed his thumbs along the tender skin of his human's inner thighs.
“Ever had someone go down on you?” he asked, grin broadening at Adam's affronted scowl. “Well, lemme tell you, kiddo, it ain't got nothing on an angel.”
Just like that, the panties disappeared, leaving Adam gasping at the novel airy sensation. He had complained about them earlier, so it was only fair, but Gabriel was a beneficent soul and he swallowed his cock in a smooth bob of motion before he could actually get too discomfited by it.
“Oh, Jesus!” Adam cried, throwing back his head, as one of the former trickster's palms gravitated to play his balls, the nails on the other hand still leaving crescent marks in his thigh, as that svelte tongue traced shapes on the crown of his dick, painting down the base and flitting back up.
Later, Gabriel would tell him how much of a no-no it was to mention one's parents - or, well, Parent with a capital 'p' - when in coitus. Later, he'd also tell him, archangel or no, to lay off on the hair pulling just a bit. Bald vessels were not pretty vessels.
Now, however, he merely hummed, sucking even harder, the vibration echoed by Adam's throaty moan as he came.
-
About an hour afterward, the angel lay in bed, his favorite human wrapped firmly around him, a blond head pillowed on his chest. He smiled down at Adam fondly, carding gentle fingers through his sweaty, bed-mussed locks.
Yes, the archangel Gabriel, the god Loki, trickster extraordinaire, was snuggling. It was something the older Winchesters wouldn't think possible of him, but this was Adam, his human, who trusted him implicitly when no one else did, and their bond was a bit stronger than manly shows of pride. If he died here, with Adam's deep, slow breaths, for once uninterrupted by nightmares, circulating across his naked torso, he could live with that. Although, he had to admit, he missed the dresses, now lying in a messy pile near the trash, a smidgen.
Of course, when Adam's cellphone rang - from somewhere under the bed, of all places - Gabriel recalled his Father's capricious sense of humor and glared up at the ceiling, then zapped the pesky device into his palm, before Adam's sleepy mumbles could shift to conscious whines.
It was Dean. Obviously, it had to be Dean. “Yellow, this is Donald Trump. Can't gab right now, what with my upcoming presidential endeavors and all, but be sure to leave a message with my secretary, Sexual Harassment Claim #64.”
There was a pause, before Dean inquired, “...Adam? That you, pal?” and Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“No,” he punctuated, taking mercy on the eldest Winchester, though he regretted his boundless generosity when he heard Dean curse in disappointment. “The kid's a bit tied up-” With the sheets tangled around Adam's legs, it wasn't exactly a lie, “-but I'll tell him what's up. ...What is up?”
“Well, Cas called after he finally checked the voice-messages I left him and he did a bit of snooping for us. He said that Balthazar, apparently, had figured it'd be fun to 'borrow' the colt,” Dean explained, his irritation redirecting to a different winged menace.
“Oh, so that's what happened,” Gabriel disinterestedly answered, picking at a loose cord of twine on their blankets.
Sensing something off about his tone, Dean suspiciously asked, “Hey, how come you didn't notice that the other side had nabbed it? And why's it takin' you so long to gank a lone demon, anyway?”
“Hey, everybody makes mistakes,” the mischievous trickster promptly returned, before adding on a hasty, “Thanks for letting us know. Love ya, Deano, but I've gotta split!”
He hung up in the nick of time, ignoring the hunter's aggravated grumbles and the clambering footsteps that could have only belonged to Sam, probably stomping his way over to take the phone. Those two were incredibly, annoyingly overprotective of their newly risen baby brother and it was sort of cute but mostly bothersome, especially since Sam had left Gabriel in charge of defending said little brother's honor, only for the angel to compromise it himself. Wouldn't that be a fun topic to discuss come family game night?
When he sat back with a sigh and punted the tiny contraption away, content to be rid of the dynamic duo, the trickster found ice blue eyes batting up at him.
“Who's that?” The words were muffled against Gabriel's twitching skin, Adam's head nuzzling ticklishly over his belly, and he shivered in pleasure.
“Your knights in shining armor,” he finally answered, an image forming in his mind of a giant man chasing after him with a sword, his slightly shorter companion trailing them on a metallic horse, blaring mullet rock from its bit. Another shudder wracked through Gabriel's frame at the thought, as he thanked his Father for ending that particularly dangerous era. Sewage problems aside, getting stabbed by a sword was a total bitch.
Adam merely hummed, unaffected, and murmured, “You know, you're gonna have to tell them we're dating eventually. No more freebies for you, Gnomeo.”
“Oh joy,” Gabriel muttered, with false cheer. “Guess my fantasies will become reality, after all.”
Adam laughed, squeezing him even tighter, as if he was a - barely - overgrown teddy bear and not an extremely dangerous warrior angel. “Lucky you.”
-
And No Offense was Meant to the Names Rupert or Bruce...
-
A/N: This was supposed to be a bit more smutty, but that particular muse is on a vacation, so I hope you (especially moonofblindness) enjoyed this PWSP (plot with slight porn). I adore Norse myth, so when I saw your list of pairings and acts, I knew I had to do a bit of a tribute to my favorite one. You should all find it and read it (I tried to find it for you, but couldn't, though it is in my myth book) and, although it's Marvel universe, you should also check out norsekink. ♥