Fic: In Four Dimensions 2/2
Title: In Four Dimensions 2/2
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel/Sam/Gabriel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: 5x08
Word Count: 15,000
Warnings: Incest, rimming, double penetration, discussions of genderswap
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: It was easy to gloss over what they were doing when it was the end of the world. Where exactly do they go from here.
Sam's just as sick of the single beds as Dean.
He's not hiding it any better, he's just quieter about it. Though it's not like Sam hasn't noticed him getting up at four in the morning to go clean guns like some sort of focused and demented psychopath.
Still he's not drinking. Which is something.
Sam has a thousand words of reassurance. Because they're coming back, he knows they're coming back. But he can't get a single one of them past his teeth.
They're spending as little time in their room as they can. They hang around after hunts, eat at diners as late as they can manage. But tonight the battery on Sam's laptop is an hour dead and Dean's been shoving the same half a piece of pie around on his plate for twenty minutes. Which, if nothing else, is a sign of another impending apocalypse.
Sam decides that's enough for today, they can find something to do, even if it's watch shitty movies all night.
"Come on." He digs in his pocket and tosses money down on the table.
Dean just grunts and shoves the plate away, slides out of the booth.
The car ride is quiet and tense. Sam swears the vague air of misery in the car is thick enough to touch. Every shift of his boots makes Dean twitch in accusation.
Sam's happy when he can get out, breathe, dig in his pocket for the keys.
He pushes the door, coat half off before he realises that the room isn't empty.
Castiel is sat primly on the closest bed, trench coat as neat and perfect as it always is. Gabriel is leant back again the wall, boots crossed at the ankles.
Sam hears the heavy thud of Dean's bag hitting the floor behind him. He doesn't even bother to drop his coat. He lets it stay halfway down his arms when he catches either side of Gabriel's face, shoves him against the wall, and kisses him.
There are fingers tight enough in his shirt for the material to tear, the hard dig of knuckles into his ribs and the hushed repetition of his name, over and over. Every time there's space enough to let it out.
When someone tugs at his coat Sam lets Gabriel go long enough to feel it stripped from his arms. Before he's holding him again, one hand clenched tight in the hair at the back of his neck the other ripping every single button off the angel's shirt. Because he can fix it later and it's more important that he be touching him already. That he have his palms flat against the heat of Gabriel's skin. Gabriel's not objecting, he's pushing into every gesture, letting Sam strip him in greedy and barely efficient movements.
Fingers slide round his waist from behind, drag his belt out of its loops and unbuckle it before tugging it away completely. It hits the floor with a 'clank' closely followed by the wet thud of boots. Which means that the hands sliding through Sam's hair are Castiel's.
"Cas," Sam manages into Gabriel's mouth. Gabriel grunts agreement and Castiel hums something soft against the curve of his ear. Reassurance, that Sam didn't even know he needed. Everything smeared out under the solid stab of relief and the taste of Gabriel's mouth and the slide and press of Castiel's fingers.
Before there's a heavy scrape of sound and Castiel's hands are gone. Judging by the way cloth tears and then the bed creaks sharply, Dean's taking matters into his own hands where the other angel's concerned.
Sam's hands have lost all ability to be careful, dragging Gabriel's shirt free in pieces and Gabriel's making rough, agreeable noises that sound like surprise. Like no one's ever wanted him this much before. No one but them.
Sam's leaving buttons and torn cotton on the floor. Until he can't take it any more and he just catches Gabriel's waist and hauls him up, feels the tight slither and catch of legs round his waist and the brace of the wall where his hand is still buried in Gabriel's hair.
Sam pins him there, in one rough shove, that puts near-painful pressure on the hard line of his dick. Sharp and torturous and so good and Gabriel shoves back in turn. Just as hard as he is. Sam pretty much gets stuck there, on that desperate edge of need, grinding in and panting against the rough, wet edge of Gabriel's mouth.
The Archangel's laughing now, breathless and warm, boots heavy and tight at the loosened edge of Sam's jeans.
"Sam, Gabriel." Dean's voice is all vibrating lust and impatience. Until it cuts off - and when Sam looks over he finds his brother gasping under the push of Castiel's hands and the furious crush of his mouth.
Sam's not sure how he makes it to the bed. Or how he loses his boots, socks and jeans. It's a jumbled mess of fingers and skin and the taste of angel on his tongue, one, or both. Dean too, greedy and impatient and overwhelmed. Not caring at all when his brother's close enough to catch hold of.
Sam ends up stripping Castiel's shirt off his arms one minute and dragging Dean's t-shirt up his arms the next. It's just a mess that leaves his heart pounding and his dick a solid line of needy hurt. Until he ends up with Gabriel shoved into his chest, all shameless naked warmth and he tries to drown himself in the taste of his mouth.
Dean's arms slides round Gabriel's waist from the other side, Castiel’s fingertips skating across his waist every time they press together.
This is them, this is fact. Sam doesn't care what else happens, he's keeping this. He's going to bleed to keep this.
The kiss is hard, it's furious, and Sam knows he's going to be tasting blood if it carries on like this. He needs everything and he needs it now, fuck, right now.
And then someone's pressing a bottle into his hand and he's uncapping it and coating his fingers and dropping it in the sheets in one movement.
The noise Gabriel makes when Sam slides his fingers inside him. A low unsteady moan that barely sounds human, like he'd been waiting for exactly that for four days. Dean's fingers catch in Gabriel's hair, tight judging by the way Gabriel's eyes drift shut. Not unwelcome by the way he lets Dean pull his head back. Sam wasn't the only one taking advantage of the bottle of oil in the sheets, because Dean's fingers are slip-sliding against Sam's where they push in. Gliding over his knuckles and the tight pull of skin.
Dean can't seem to help himself. Can't wait, because he's sliding his fingers into Gabriel too, one slippery wet stretch around them both.
Gabriel makes a hard noise, strangled and gloriously obscene. Then digs his fingers into Sam's shoulder. His hips are caught halfway between shoving forward and shoving back. They settle for a long shuddery grind that manages to keep them both inside him.
Sam lets his fingers slide against and alongside Dean's, one rough, slick push after another, pressed together inside Gabriel. Who's murmuring encouragement, a sharp slur of words. He's demanding, Gabriel's always so demanding. Like he wants to give them so much it might just destroy them all. He's trembling and growling in his chest like they're teasing him on purpose.
Castiel is plastered against Dean's back, hand sliding and catching in his hair while he watches the rock and grind of Gabriel letting them both prepare him.
"Down," Gabriel says finally, voice a mess of want and impatience. "Want you both to fuck me, can't do it like this."
Sam swears through his teeth and Dean gives a shaky little moan like that's the best idea he's ever heard. It's so good neither of them move for a moment, just cling there, fingers still pushing, Sam's mouth still shoved up against Gabriel's every time he turns it into him.
"Cas." Dean's voice is low and thick. Because there are four, always four.
"Do it," Castiel says breathlessly. His voice is just a messy roll of roughness and need. Like they've ruined him completely.
Sam ends up on his back, Gabriel's knees spread round his waist. Digging in, tight little pinches of pain which just make everything more real.
He sucks a breath when a slippery hand runs over his cock, twice, quick and jerky - Dean. Before Gabriel is sliding up and then back and Sam slip-shoves all the way inside in one movement.
It's sensation like a knife, sharp and precise and almost lethal.
Gabriel folds into him on one shaky groan, until he has his mouth open over Sam's, indulging in quick, hot little stabs of tongue that are trying to melt Sam's brain. Before sliding away to drag sharp teeth across his chin and God - God, too much, always too much. He's barely holding on, everything intense and desperate.
Sam has the whole expanse of Gabriel's back within reach and he can't help spreading his hands there, fingers digging in too hard while he groans through the restless little twitches of his hips. Halfway between begging him to stop, to wait, or taking everything Gabriel can give.
"Dean," Gabriel says, quick and demanding.
Dean doesn’t wait, can't wait judging by the sharp rush of his breath. His hand flattens on the warmth of Gabriel's back, fingers curling over Sam's. One careful nudge at Gabriel's thigh and then Sam can feel the solid shove of him, all tightness and pressure where Sam's already buried. Gabriel's mouth opens on Sam's throat and he bites down hard when Dean slides in too, tight and vicious against his own dick.
Sam has to catch Gabriel's waist and hold him still.
Gabriel's making soft, little whimpery noises which Sam knows for a fact are neither pain nor protest. He knows if he were to tip the Archangel's head up and shove hair out of his face he'd find his eyes blown to hell, mouth wide and wet. Gabriel likes to get lost completely.
Gabriel moves, one slow sliding shove that makes Sam gasp and dig his nails in. Dean jerks up and in on reflex.
"Fuck, Gabriel."
Gabriel shudders and goes still when they slide in all the way, one steady rock together and everything is too tight and too much and Gabriel always looks so fucking fragile when he does this. Like they're going to break him. Sam should know by now that they won't, that they can't. But it never stops him trying to hold onto him anyway.
Sam can feel Castiel's hands, trailing from Dean's waist to Gabriel's, fingertips brushing the hard points of his hips on every slide. Like he's trying to hold them all at the same time. Too distracted by the push and shift of flesh.
Sam looks up and catches the angel's eyes over Dean's shoulder. They're that wet, inhuman shade of blue. Sharp with lust. Like if there was any possible way for Gabriel to take him too it would already be happening. God, Sam can't think that, can't, can't - Jesus Christ - and Gabriel shudders and moans like he can see it inside his head. There's a breath of laughter and arousal into the plane of his cheek and then Gabriel's dragging his head round and kissing him, kissing him like he never wants to stop. All anger and need and desperate, possessive want.
Castiel's making soft noises, noises that make Sam dig his fingers into Gabriel's back and Dean give one short, tight shove that leaves Gabriel's mouth wide open.
Sam suspects Castiel already has his fingers inside Dean. He knows the sounds his brother makes when he's opened up, when he wants it. Those deep, hard little breaths that shake and demand.
Gabriel distracts him with a sharp dig of fingers and a near-brutal shove down. Like he thinks nothing, nothing at all, of pushing them both to the edge.
Until Dean's hand curves round Gabriel's shoulder, presses him down into Sam's chest. Presses him down and holds him there. Then Dean makes a noise that sounds ripped out of him. Rough with hunger and edged with discomfort. It comes with a steady increase of weight and pressure.
Sam knows without looking that Castiel is inside his brother. Leaving a messy, but complete connection between then all. He'd thought at the beginning that this was the sort of thing that could kill you. But he's learned since then that it's just enough, just enough to come out the other side alive.
Sam has his hands tight on Gabriel's hips, fingers pressing into the curving edge of Dean's waist on every steady push. It's messy and awkward and hot and Sam can barely breathe through the weight of it. Of what they've become, without ever meaning to. There's barely any room to move, to push in or up and yet he can feel the slow pull that tells him it doesn’t matter, that the unsteady grind and shove is going to be enough. Everything is heavier now. Dean's every exhale is messy and the tight catch of his fingers in Gabriel's hair drags him away from Sam's mouth, every time he slams in as hard as he can.
Gabriel's skin is burning, eyes bright, every kiss edged with the sharpness of teeth and the low whine of greedy impatience. It can't last. They're always too much together. Always an inch away from burning up. He's barely thought it before Gabriel is all tension and quick, ragged shoves. Pulling Sam's head back with sharp fingers so he can groan against the curve of his throat, and fall to a stop in one bright clench of obscene tightness and shivery bliss.
Sam can't breathe.
He stops trying, lets it all shake out when he comes, spilling warmth, and Dean makes a loose noise of shock and then stills.
There's a long pause, filled with wet, rough breathing and twitches of pleasure.
Before Dean's sliding free, sliding back into Castiel grip, still aggressively greedy. He falls to his hands, braces one on Sam's thigh, mouth open, body shaking with every shove, careful becoming quick and unsteady. Until Castiel breaks too, in one long breathless noise that sounds like worship.
Dean collapses completely, Castiel sliding down after him with absolutely none of the angelic grace Sam knows he's capable of.
Dean breathes low, shaky swearwords into the bed, one arm flung over Sam's leg. He makes no move to push Castiel off, though he does make a grumbling, complaining noise just for appearances sake.
Gabriel's just weight on Sam's chest, sticky and too hot. Sam throws an arm around him anyway, listens to the vibration when he laughs. When he slides a hand up into Sam's hair and holds it tight enough to hurt. Pulls his head down, and the kiss he gives him is slow and wet and lazy-hot.
~~~~~
Dean's brain won't shut up. Even though his body has hit that brick wall of bliss and crashed, his brain is still turning over inside his skull. One messy twist after another.
Castiel is solid warmth against his arm, silent and still, but real enough. The weight of his hand is laid on Dean's stomach, fingers curled slightly like they want to hold on.
Gabriel's pressed in behind the other angel, Dean can feel his leg under Castiel's
Sam's half sprawled over Gabriel's back, one arm curled round his waist like he thinks someone might try and take him away while he's sleeping
Dean wonders if he sleeps like that. Decides he probably does.
This is how the bed's supposed to be. Warm, crowded, unique in its strange human/angel smell, overlaid with the faint but really freakin' pervasive trace of candy.
It's everything it should be, but his body's only letting him sleep in snatches. It's like his brain is afraid if he closes his eyes for five minute it'll all disappear. All his attempts to tell it to chill the fuck out are completely useless. His subconscious is too well trained. Bastard thing.
He lifts a hand, finds the loose warmth of Castiel's fingers. He doesn't even mean to. It's like he's just checking, just making sure. But they curl and close around his own, a slow, steady tangle.
God, it feels like forever since there was anyone Dean could just touch. You don't get that casual familiarity when you don't trust anyone, when your whole life is moving around and killing things. Because the people they save are like - fuck - they're almost like a different species sometimes. He knows how messed up that is. But when they're screaming and clinging and shaking their heads like they still don't believe, friends and family members torn open in front of them and they still don't quite believe what they're seeing. It's like they're a million miles away and always will be.
Dean had figured that he'd never get to have this. He'd never really get anyone he could just - touch. This is maybe the first time it's occurred to him that he can. That he can touch whenever he wants to. Any time he wants to, any time he needs to.
So, yeah, four days sleeping on his own again after he'd just managed to accept that maybe he could have that. That hadn't exactly been good on his nerves.
Castiel shifts, like maybe he can feel Dean's tension, or perhaps he's reading his mind. There's a rasp of beard, that never gets any longer and never gets a shave, against his shoulder.
"Dean?"
Dean hushes him quiet, before that sleepy voice becomes something low and demanding. He buries the fingers of his other hand in Castiel's mad hair, lets them drift through it. It's an indulgence he's getting far too used to. But some things, once you're allowed, you just can't stop.
He knows Gabriel and Castiel, if they're paying attention both already know he's awake. But Dean also knows that it's important you deal with your own crap.
There's a murmur from across the bed, something quiet and sleepy and it takes Dean a second to realise that Sam's dreaming. Castiel makes a very soft noise of amusement and Gabriel shifts away, leg sliding off of Dean's. The bed creaks and then Sam settles again with a very quiet sigh.
Dean snorts into the darkness, because at least someone is managing to block out their own subconscious.
"Go to sleep," Castiel says quietly, and it's a rumble of command against his skin.
Dean's getting far too used to doing what that voice tells him to.
~~~~~
The road's almost empty this early in the morning. Dean has the window open, the music playing on half volume. Sam's a long stretch of limbs in the passenger seat, all lazy sway and half-smile.
Castiel's in the back, against the window. Gabriel's managed to slither round, legs balanced on the door, head in Castiel's lap.
Dean's not even going to complain about the boots on the door. He's just relieved to have everyone back where they're supposed to be.
They're a pair of girls, it's official. Dean's blaming both the angels in the backseat for his downfall.
"So, what happened upstairs?" he asks, when the motel isn't even a dot behind them.
Gabriel huffs amusement.
"They were more welcoming that we anticipated," Castiel says quietly.
"Understatement bro," Gabriel says through a laugh. "It's a fucking mess up there, too full of snot-nosed youngsters who've never had an original thought in their lives. And all the angels capable of making decisions on their own are now refusing to do exactly that since it led to an apocalypse and the biggest massacre of angels since the original war in heaven. It's like a shitstorm of performance anxiety."
"What about Michael."
"Michael's pretty much locked himself in his room so he can listen to angsty music," Gabriel grumbles.
"He is unwilling to take charge at present," Castiel says.
Gabriel makes a rude noise up at him. Like he disapproves of Castiel's bland translations of his poetic descriptions.
"He doesn't know how to take charge. He's fine when he's reading from a script. This is post-apocalypse for him. It's all blank pages. Adding in the fact he had to smack the crap out of his little brother, again - well you can see why he's not exactly the go-to guy at the moment."
Yeah, Dean's not exactly going to feel guilty about that.
"To be fair, I've had more than enough of my brothers and their ridiculous schemes. Whether it be when they're trying to kill me or trying to recruit me."
"They were more concerned with killing me at the time," Castiel reminds him.
"You were a dangerous criminal," Gabriel says, lifting a hand long enough to ruffle Castiel's already messy hair.
He laughs at Castiel’s unimpressed glare.
"But, hey, dad hasn't come back, hasn't shown up. Even though we did technically hit the big 'ol reset button on the apocalypse. I think there's something we're supposed to be doing, or they're supposed to be doing."
"You think you know what he wants?" Sam asks.
Castiel frowns, like maybe it hurts to try and imagine the mind of God. But Gabriel just makes an intrigued noise, stretches his legs out a little.
"I think he wants us to evolve," Gabriel says quietly. He sounds half bemused and half entertained.
"Can you even do that?" Sam asks over the back of the seat. "I thought you were like eternal and unchangeable."
"I think I'm pretty much proof that we're not unchangeable, Sam," Gabriel reminds him through a grin
"But they wanted you to stay right?" Dean asks.
"Oh yes, and believe me I've never heard as many backhanded 'I'm sorry we tried to kill you' apologies in my life. Closely followed by the guilt. The guys upstairs know a million ways to try and guilt you into things. And when you drop the flesh you can actually feel that. It's nasty. Seriously, you think Cas has personal space issues, try being made entirely of power and light and sparkles. Brings a whole new meaning to the term 'inappropriate touching.'"
Gabriel lifts a hand and makes some sort of complicated gesture with it. Then gives up, as if hands are insufficient for this flavour of show and tell.
Dean really doesn't like the sound of that though.
"It's more like sharing," Castiel offers.
"I don't share," Gabriel says flatly.
It's Castiel's turn to raise an eyebrow. Then pointedly look at Sam and Dean.
Gabriel sighs loudly.
"Oh alright, sometimes I share. But not with upstart Archangels and their lackeys."
"What the hell?" Dean demands.
"Oh believe me, I put Raguel on his metaphysical ass for getting a little too friendly."
"Did we meet him?" Sam asks.
"Yes," Castiel supplies.
Gabriel waves a hand out. "That was the pompous, officious one that had the vessel that look like it was about to die of consumption. Honestly, I was out of my vessel ten minutes, not even time to get used to not having fingers. He deserved it."
"You're an Archangel with pagan god reflexes. It's an interesting combination," Castiel says.
"You say 'interesting' like it's a bad thing, Cas. Also, I think you mean special." Gabriel drawls out the word like it's something dirty.
"Yes," Castiel says firmly. "That too."
The next time Dean looks in the mirror Castiel is folded over, one of Gabriel's hands wrapped round the back of his neck. Gabriel' laughing quietly into his mouth and Castiel is taking every quiet murmur, hand sliding up Gabriel's throat to rest in his hair.
Castiel draws away slowly, mouth still wet and Dean really is going to crash the goddamn car if he doesn't look at the road now.
"But you got back ok?"
"We were persistent about our refusal to stay," Castiel says firmly. Like there's a whole story under there.
Gabriel makes a low sound of approval.
"You're hot when you're a badass you know, skin or no skin."
Castiel accepts the compliment with a smile that Dean suspects he learned off the Archangel. Dean kind of knows how much of a stubborn son of a bitch Castiel can be. He thinks he's definitely going to press for details later.
"They never tried to stop us. Though there was a sweaty-palmed sort of desperation there towards the end. A thousand last minute things to do. Really, angels never learned subtlety, it's just embarrassing."
"We agreed to return to help if we were not too busy." Castiel manages to make that sound way more amusing than it probably was. Dean thinks all that fantastic sarcasm they've been teaching Cas is completely wasted on the angels. Who just don't get it.
"And if they ask nicely," Gabriel adds. And they all know how good the angels are at that.
They stop for gas at just gone ten.
Gabriel doesn't move from Castiel's lap. Sam goes on a quest for snacks while Dean fills her up. The whole world still feels quiet. Only this is a relaxed sort of quiet. A quiet without tension. Not being hunted, not being chased, it takes some getting used to.
Sam's giant arms look like they've stolen everything the store has. He slides back into the passenger seat and shoves most of it in his bag, before reaching over the back and dropping a bag of M&Ms on Gabriel's stomach.
Gabriel points a finger at him.
"You're my favourite."
It takes him four miles to eat them all. A quick, wet crunch of candy, with the occasional raised arm to slip a green one into Castiel's mouth. Castiel never once protests. Though he does spend a long minute distracted when Gabriel slithers upright and kisses him when they pass a field full of cornflowers.
"So, this sharing thing," Sam asks curiously. Dean recognises his interested research voice a mile away. "Could we do that with you."
Castiel looks up head tilting slowly to the side.
"With me, perhaps, if I was very careful and you did exactly as I told you."
Castiel stops as if he's unsure what to say next.
"Gabriel would..."
"I'd vaporize you," Gabriel says, staring at the ceiling of the car. "I'd fry you both like eggs on the side of a nuclear reactor."
"Nice visual," Dean offers into the mirror.
"I thought you'd appreciate that."
Sam makes a quiet noise, like maybe he regrets bringing it up. Like sometimes he forgets that they're not the same species.
"But you're our favourite species," Gabriel insists, actually proving Dean right for once. Either that or he's developing creepy mind-reading powers of his own. God, he hopes not. Two people being party to his hot girl fantasies are bad enough. And honestly, the fact that he still has hot girl fantasies kind of makes him feel like a traitor.
"I make a really hot girl," Gabriel supplies. Like they formed some consensus about how just blurting out people's thoughts was ok.
Dean looks in the mirror, but all he can see is the curve of Gabriel's knee and half of Castiel's face.
"Also, it triples the amount of sexual positions I can get away with."
Dean swivels round, far enough to shoot Gabriel a look.
"Really?"
Sam sighs, boot knocking on the door.
"Dean, watch the road or you'll crash into something."
"I will not crash into something," Dean protests, swerving for a pot hole, of all things, a fucking pot hole. "Christ, I thought the whole 'pretending to be someone else' was just surface paint."
"Ha," Gabriel says sharply, like he finds Dean amusing. "Castiel's body used to be human. He's pretty much locked in this pretty face you see right here." Gabriel lifts a hand and smacks Castiel's cheek sharply. "I'm an Archangel, I can wear whatever I like."
There's a filthy chuckle.
"Ask Sam."
Sam clears his throat in a way that completely fails to sound innocent.
Dean shoots him a glare when he completely refuses to refute anything
"Dude, you banged him as a girl and didn't tell me?"
"It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. You were out checking the EMF in that creepy red brick house and he was messing with maid service in that big hotel."
"Sam." He really doesn't mean that to sound so much like a whiny accusation.
"It's not like you haven't had sex with thousands of girls Dean."
Dean shoots him a look that says 'thousands, really?' When something occurs to him.
"Cas has never had sex with a girl."
Gabriel tilts his head back to look up. Castiel looks back at him curiously. Judging by the exchange of smiles from Gabriel and exasperated looks from Castiel they're having a silent conversation.
And then Gabriel grins up at him, all teeth and lechery.
"Oh. little bro, we can't be having that."
Dean looks in the mirror at where Gabriel now has Castiel's fingers tangled through his own, smirk gone vicious and wicked on his face. Dean has no excuse, none, for the reaction he has to that.
"The next motel we see I'm stopping," he says roughly.
"Dean it's only half ten in the morning," Sam says sensibly.
"Your point?"
Sam waves an arm desperately.
"Alright, fine, I have no point."
~~~~~
They spend 90% of Thursday 8th July in bed.
Dean wonders, in a vague sort of way, if they're going to need some sort of twelve step program.
~~~~~
Dean's in the bathroom, perched on the edge of the bath, fishing through the first aid tin for a needle, one that won't fuck his back all to hell. Because the cut's not that deep, there's no muscle showing. Nothing he hasn't done after a hunt a thousand times. Some of the monsters hanging around had managed to slip straight out of hell, snacking on people like they candy, they'll be better prepared next time.
Sam had gotten off better, though Dean thinks the side of his face is going to be a nasty shade of purple tomorrow.
When he very carefully starts to slide his coat off he's not expecting the hands that slide under the collar and help him ease it down. Too small to be Cas's.
His coat ends up in the bath.
"Did you have fun upstairs," he asks.
"Oodles," Gabriel drawls. Which Dean is going to take to mean 'hell no.'
"Where's Cas?"
"Talking to Sam, he brought him books. So it's turned into a huge nerdgasm out there," Gabriel says.
Dean grunts and very carefully peels his shirt off, the half-dried tug of cloth and skin making him wince.
Gabriel makes a noise like he disapproves of whatever mess has become of Dean's back.
"What did you do, Winchester?" His voice is quieter than usual.
"Some dirty flying thing try to pick me up. I convinced it that would be a bad idea."
"Hmm, and how did you do that?" Gabriel asks.
"I shot one of its feet off."
Gabriel laughs, smooth and unsurprised.
"Classy."
There's the soft press of fingers into his shoulder.
"I could just fix this you know," Gabriel says.
Dean bites the thread at the right length, then drags it through the needle.
"You could," he says, and makes sure there's a warning in his tone.
Dean stares into the mirror again, realises this is going to be near impossible for him to do by himself. The bright line of it still obscured by blood, and too close to the bend of his shoulder blade. The skin will shift and stretch every time he moves.
He takes a breath and then holds out the needle to Gabriel.
Who eyes it in disgust like there's not a chance in hell.
"Dean -" he protests, stiff and unhappy.
"Will you just stitch it."
Because this fucking means something. They're not toys to be played with, to be put back together whenever they break. This is what their life is. You live being careful of the consequences, because of the pain, the sprains and the breaks, or you don't live at all. If Gabriel doesn't get that, if he can't accept that, then they're going to have more problems than trying to share a bed between four people.
Gabriel glares at him and takes the needle, pushes gently but wordlessly on Dean's shoulder until he's bent slightly into the sink.
The first sharp dig of the needle is slow and unhappy. But Gabriel's stitches are small, angry and precise.
"You realise this is like taking a Monet to an art restorer and then demanding he fix it with duct tape and staples, right?"
"You know if we don't compromise this thing is never going to work," Dean says flatly. Because they can't just pretend forever. That there isn't a fucking huge power imbalance here. They can't ignore it. They can't pretend it isn't there.
The bathroom's heavy with quiet.
"You're prepared to meet us halfway then," Gabriel says stiffly. "The next time we want something you don't like the sound of."
Dean grunts. "Yeah,"
Gabriel makes a rude noise through his nose.
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"No, but I trust you, you and Cas, to not want anything that could fuck us up."
Gabriel's hand stills. Like he didn't expect that.
"You have to trust us to know what we're doing too," Dean adds.
"In wanting to be pieced together like a broken vase." A thumb gently trails the skin of his back, faintly slippery under the blood.
"Gabriel -"
"No, you don't get the moral high ground here. I'm the fucking angel who's currently stitching your skin back together. It's completely unnecessary when you know what I'm capable of.
"Not for shit like this though." Dean gestures at his shoulder in the mirror. Because it's just a cut, not even half a dozen stitches. It's not going to put him out of action, it's not going to keep him up a night.
"Shit like this is where it starts," Gabriel says stiffly.
"Well then it's a good job we have you to continually bitch at us about it."
Gabriel sticks him for that. He fucking knows it. Dean hisses and glares in the mirror at him.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it."
There's the faint snap of thread and Gabriel hands the needle over Dean's shoulder.
Dean catches his wrist instead, hauls him back round so he can see him. Though the angel's still stiff and unyielding. A petulant and slow simmering anger at the stark, breakable humanity of him.
It's weird how familiar Gabriel is to Dean now. The way they went from separate to...to this. They fit better than he could have ever believed. All their broken pieces slamming together just right, insecurity against arrogance, pride against vulnerability, and stubbornness against a willingness to bend.
Part of Dean wants to keep them all here, in motel rooms. Where, for some crazy reason, they're just right. Where it all makes sense. To not take this thing out into the light, into the world and make it real. Because the world has been fucking him over since he could walk. It's always taken perverse joy in smashing apart everything he's ever had.
"I know something about bad habits. I'm not keen on starting any more."
Gabriel's eyebrow goes up in one sharp movement.
"Oh Dean, there isn't enough time in the world to tell you about all the bad habits I've picked up."
Dean grunts.
"I like your bad habits."
The eyebrow goes up higher.
"I like some of your bad habits," Dean concedes.
Gabriel still looks undecided. If he'd been a girl Dean would have tugged him down into his lap and played his favourite game of distraction.
He doesn't have the first idea what you're supposed to do with another man. He's been pretty much winging this since day one. Never entirely sure what he's doing, just certain that he's going to dig his heels in and keep it this time. But he figures if he's having one of the most unconventional relationships in the history of mankind he can break a few rules.
So fuck it. He tugs Gabriel down until he's in his lap, making grumbling noises and heavy in all the wrong places. But Dean shuts him up pretty quickly, hands turning his head until he can crush Gabriel's mouth with him own. The protest turns into a long exhale that's warm against his cheek.
Sharp fingers end up dug into the back of his neck and Gabriel's kissing back, hard enough to tell Dean exactly which one of them needs to restrain their enthusiasm.
"You are so irritatingly, annoyingly human," Gabriel hisses against his mouth. There's a weight of something behind the words, something like frustration and desperation. Something confused and sharp.
It makes Dean tighten his grip and grunt agreement.
Gabriel eventually huffs something irritated and slides off of his lap.
"Way to make me feel like a girl."
Dean feels like pointing out that he is the smallest. Though, judging by the super bitchface he gets Gabriel heard it anyway. He's been hanging around Sam too much, because it looks a lot like his.
By the time Dean shoves the first aid kit back together Gabriel's gone.
He pulls his shirt back on, stitches warning him not to stretch too far. He'll have to either stitch up the shirt too or throw it out. Usually their jackets take the brunt of all the damage. But Dean hadn't realised how sharp those damn flying monstrosities claws were going to be.
There's pizza when he gets out of the bathroom, Sam's already halfway through one of the boxes where he's sat on the bed, boots kicked off. One hand is eating and one hand is tapping the keys on his laptop. Gabriel's sprawled out next to him.
Sam's face is missing the stark redness that was there when they got back. Which suggests one of the angels took care of it. Castiel probably, because Dean thinks maybe Gabriel understands more than him. Though whether Gabriel would have been able to look at that stark reminder of how fucking breakable Sam was - hell maybe it was Gabriel. He's almost as protective of Sam as Dean is.
Castiel is peering into the other box like he objects to the smell of tomatoes and melted cheese.
Dean shoves his boots off and carefully sits back against the headboard with them. Castiel offers him the box. Dean pulls out two pieces and turns one of them and offers it to the angel.
Castiel frowns, pointedly.
"Come on, dude, contrary to popular belief your body is not a temple."
"I don't need to eat," he reminds him, again. In that slow, firm way. Dean's starting to think that's his one excuse.
"You don't need to have sex either," Gabriel points out. "But I haven't heard you objecting to that yet."
Castiel sighs with a sort of long suffering resignation and reaches out, gets a handful of cheese and oil and tomato sauce.
"There you go," Dean feels like a proud parent, he really does. Even though that analogy is maybe a little bit wrong considering.
They all watch Castiel eat, which he seems to find irritating, but it's only fair, since he has a tendency to watch them sleep. Like the little creeper he is.
Gabriel snorts laughter and Castiel scowls at him.
"Sirens," Sam says suddenly.
"Huh?" Dean offers.
"There have been a lot of boats wrecked off shore." Sam swivels the laptop round. "I think maybe it could be sirens."
"Too far east," Dean says around a mouthful of pizza. "Anything closer?"
Sam clicks through his bookmarks.
"Apparently a giant hole opened in the ground in Sedona?"
"A giant hole?" Dean asks dubiously.
Sam nods.
"Too early to tell if anything's come out of it yet. But I'm thinking giant holes opening up after the apocalypse probably isn't a good thing."
"Are giant holes opening up at any time a good thing?" Dean wonders.
"There's also some cattle mutilations on the way -"
"Aliens," Gabriel offers and steals the piece of pizza Sam's waving about as a demonstration.
" - but I don't know if stopping to look at them is wise if the big giant hole turns out to be the demonic equivalent of an active volcano."
Dean grunts.
"I guess it's not just our decision any more. I think Gabriel and Cas get votes now too," he says, before digging in the box for another piece. "If they plan on sticking around."
"It would be hard to watch you sleep if I didn't," Castiel says carefully.
Dean shoves a hand in Castiel's hair and pushes it all the wrong way.
"Like you don't know we think you're awesome by now."
Castiel very carefully finds another piece of pizza lifts it, like he's mortally afraid it will drip sauce all over his trench coat. Which made it through the damn apocalypse just fine.
"I believe that exploring this sudden hole in the earth would be wise," he says.
"Agreed," Gabriel says. "Creepy hole in the ground it is." He pushes Sam's laptop shut and slides it off the bed before claiming most of its space in Sam's lap with one lazy sprawl.
Sam doesn't object.
"How many times have I told you to take your coat off before we eat?" Dean tells Castiel.
Castiel stops halfway through his slice of pizza.
Dean takes it from him while he slips his coat and jacket off and lays them over their bags, before moving back to sit next to Sam. Dean decides laziness trumps manliness once again. He leans back and Castiel takes his weight like its nothing. All warmth and crisp fabric.
"So we'll leave before eight tomorrow, we should get there just before lunch."
"Can I drive?" Gabriel asks. With all the wilful recklessness of someone who doesn't expect him to say yes.
Dean digs out another piece of pizza.
"I'll think about it."
~~~~~
The giant hole in the ground turns out to be just that.
Though the Grand Canyon is too close and too tempting not to visit.
It's pretty awesome.
~~~~~
There's a phone ringing somewhere far away.
Or maybe it's close, Sam can't really tell, he's mashed into the warm skin of someone's arm and someone heavy is laying on his back.
"Your phone," Dean mumbles somewhere near his hair.
"Not it," Castiel says from somewhere behind Dean. They have definitely been a bad influence on him.
"I don't know anyone," Sam says, or thinks he says. There's a chance it just comes out as random noise. He's laying on Gabriel, he knows as much because he smells faintly of chocolate.
"Your phone," Dean says again.
Which is true, because Dean's phone was smashed to pieces when that angry ghost lumberjack hit it with an axe.
Sam protests via the medium of random noises.
"Gabriel, answer the phone," he mutters.
The body he's laying on grunts.
"What am I your secretary?"
The bed jiggles and there's a muted click.
"Winchesters den of iniquity, how may I direct your call?"
Dean snorts amusement into Sam's back. Sam thinks maybe he's going to regret that. He tips his head back and finds the amused curve of Gabriel's mouth and the silver glint of his own phone.
Gabriel tips the phone away so he can speak.
"Apparently saving the world from an apocalypse is not an excuse for self-indulgent angelic orgies and you have to get your asses out of bed and hunt some monsters."
"Tell Bobby we've been killing monsters in-between the self-indulgent angelic orgies," Dean mumbles.
The bearded displeasure is audible even half a foot away and buried in pillows.
"I do believe Bobby heard that," Castiel supplies.
"How do we feel about hell harpies?" Gabriel asks after a pause.
"I couldn't eat a whole one," Dean decides.
Sam laughs despite himself, presses his face into Gabriel's skin to muffle the sound.
"The Winchesters have decided they would like to kill some hell harpies today," Gabriel tells Bobby.
There's a pause, during which Gabriel's face goes through several flavours of amusement.
"Bobby is so sarcastically glad about that. Also, you're idiots."
"Idjits," Dean, Sam and Castiel correct automatically.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel/Sam/Gabriel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: 5x08
Word Count: 15,000
Warnings: Incest, rimming, double penetration, discussions of genderswap
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: It was easy to gloss over what they were doing when it was the end of the world. Where exactly do they go from here.
Sam's just as sick of the single beds as Dean.
He's not hiding it any better, he's just quieter about it. Though it's not like Sam hasn't noticed him getting up at four in the morning to go clean guns like some sort of focused and demented psychopath.
Still he's not drinking. Which is something.
Sam has a thousand words of reassurance. Because they're coming back, he knows they're coming back. But he can't get a single one of them past his teeth.
They're spending as little time in their room as they can. They hang around after hunts, eat at diners as late as they can manage. But tonight the battery on Sam's laptop is an hour dead and Dean's been shoving the same half a piece of pie around on his plate for twenty minutes. Which, if nothing else, is a sign of another impending apocalypse.
Sam decides that's enough for today, they can find something to do, even if it's watch shitty movies all night.
"Come on." He digs in his pocket and tosses money down on the table.
Dean just grunts and shoves the plate away, slides out of the booth.
The car ride is quiet and tense. Sam swears the vague air of misery in the car is thick enough to touch. Every shift of his boots makes Dean twitch in accusation.
Sam's happy when he can get out, breathe, dig in his pocket for the keys.
He pushes the door, coat half off before he realises that the room isn't empty.
Castiel is sat primly on the closest bed, trench coat as neat and perfect as it always is. Gabriel is leant back again the wall, boots crossed at the ankles.
Sam hears the heavy thud of Dean's bag hitting the floor behind him. He doesn't even bother to drop his coat. He lets it stay halfway down his arms when he catches either side of Gabriel's face, shoves him against the wall, and kisses him.
There are fingers tight enough in his shirt for the material to tear, the hard dig of knuckles into his ribs and the hushed repetition of his name, over and over. Every time there's space enough to let it out.
When someone tugs at his coat Sam lets Gabriel go long enough to feel it stripped from his arms. Before he's holding him again, one hand clenched tight in the hair at the back of his neck the other ripping every single button off the angel's shirt. Because he can fix it later and it's more important that he be touching him already. That he have his palms flat against the heat of Gabriel's skin. Gabriel's not objecting, he's pushing into every gesture, letting Sam strip him in greedy and barely efficient movements.
Fingers slide round his waist from behind, drag his belt out of its loops and unbuckle it before tugging it away completely. It hits the floor with a 'clank' closely followed by the wet thud of boots. Which means that the hands sliding through Sam's hair are Castiel's.
"Cas," Sam manages into Gabriel's mouth. Gabriel grunts agreement and Castiel hums something soft against the curve of his ear. Reassurance, that Sam didn't even know he needed. Everything smeared out under the solid stab of relief and the taste of Gabriel's mouth and the slide and press of Castiel's fingers.
Before there's a heavy scrape of sound and Castiel's hands are gone. Judging by the way cloth tears and then the bed creaks sharply, Dean's taking matters into his own hands where the other angel's concerned.
Sam's hands have lost all ability to be careful, dragging Gabriel's shirt free in pieces and Gabriel's making rough, agreeable noises that sound like surprise. Like no one's ever wanted him this much before. No one but them.
Sam's leaving buttons and torn cotton on the floor. Until he can't take it any more and he just catches Gabriel's waist and hauls him up, feels the tight slither and catch of legs round his waist and the brace of the wall where his hand is still buried in Gabriel's hair.
Sam pins him there, in one rough shove, that puts near-painful pressure on the hard line of his dick. Sharp and torturous and so good and Gabriel shoves back in turn. Just as hard as he is. Sam pretty much gets stuck there, on that desperate edge of need, grinding in and panting against the rough, wet edge of Gabriel's mouth.
The Archangel's laughing now, breathless and warm, boots heavy and tight at the loosened edge of Sam's jeans.
"Sam, Gabriel." Dean's voice is all vibrating lust and impatience. Until it cuts off - and when Sam looks over he finds his brother gasping under the push of Castiel's hands and the furious crush of his mouth.
Sam's not sure how he makes it to the bed. Or how he loses his boots, socks and jeans. It's a jumbled mess of fingers and skin and the taste of angel on his tongue, one, or both. Dean too, greedy and impatient and overwhelmed. Not caring at all when his brother's close enough to catch hold of.
Sam ends up stripping Castiel's shirt off his arms one minute and dragging Dean's t-shirt up his arms the next. It's just a mess that leaves his heart pounding and his dick a solid line of needy hurt. Until he ends up with Gabriel shoved into his chest, all shameless naked warmth and he tries to drown himself in the taste of his mouth.
Dean's arms slides round Gabriel's waist from the other side, Castiel’s fingertips skating across his waist every time they press together.
This is them, this is fact. Sam doesn't care what else happens, he's keeping this. He's going to bleed to keep this.
The kiss is hard, it's furious, and Sam knows he's going to be tasting blood if it carries on like this. He needs everything and he needs it now, fuck, right now.
And then someone's pressing a bottle into his hand and he's uncapping it and coating his fingers and dropping it in the sheets in one movement.
The noise Gabriel makes when Sam slides his fingers inside him. A low unsteady moan that barely sounds human, like he'd been waiting for exactly that for four days. Dean's fingers catch in Gabriel's hair, tight judging by the way Gabriel's eyes drift shut. Not unwelcome by the way he lets Dean pull his head back. Sam wasn't the only one taking advantage of the bottle of oil in the sheets, because Dean's fingers are slip-sliding against Sam's where they push in. Gliding over his knuckles and the tight pull of skin.
Dean can't seem to help himself. Can't wait, because he's sliding his fingers into Gabriel too, one slippery wet stretch around them both.
Gabriel makes a hard noise, strangled and gloriously obscene. Then digs his fingers into Sam's shoulder. His hips are caught halfway between shoving forward and shoving back. They settle for a long shuddery grind that manages to keep them both inside him.
Sam lets his fingers slide against and alongside Dean's, one rough, slick push after another, pressed together inside Gabriel. Who's murmuring encouragement, a sharp slur of words. He's demanding, Gabriel's always so demanding. Like he wants to give them so much it might just destroy them all. He's trembling and growling in his chest like they're teasing him on purpose.
Castiel is plastered against Dean's back, hand sliding and catching in his hair while he watches the rock and grind of Gabriel letting them both prepare him.
"Down," Gabriel says finally, voice a mess of want and impatience. "Want you both to fuck me, can't do it like this."
Sam swears through his teeth and Dean gives a shaky little moan like that's the best idea he's ever heard. It's so good neither of them move for a moment, just cling there, fingers still pushing, Sam's mouth still shoved up against Gabriel's every time he turns it into him.
"Cas." Dean's voice is low and thick. Because there are four, always four.
"Do it," Castiel says breathlessly. His voice is just a messy roll of roughness and need. Like they've ruined him completely.
Sam ends up on his back, Gabriel's knees spread round his waist. Digging in, tight little pinches of pain which just make everything more real.
He sucks a breath when a slippery hand runs over his cock, twice, quick and jerky - Dean. Before Gabriel is sliding up and then back and Sam slip-shoves all the way inside in one movement.
It's sensation like a knife, sharp and precise and almost lethal.
Gabriel folds into him on one shaky groan, until he has his mouth open over Sam's, indulging in quick, hot little stabs of tongue that are trying to melt Sam's brain. Before sliding away to drag sharp teeth across his chin and God - God, too much, always too much. He's barely holding on, everything intense and desperate.
Sam has the whole expanse of Gabriel's back within reach and he can't help spreading his hands there, fingers digging in too hard while he groans through the restless little twitches of his hips. Halfway between begging him to stop, to wait, or taking everything Gabriel can give.
"Dean," Gabriel says, quick and demanding.
Dean doesn’t wait, can't wait judging by the sharp rush of his breath. His hand flattens on the warmth of Gabriel's back, fingers curling over Sam's. One careful nudge at Gabriel's thigh and then Sam can feel the solid shove of him, all tightness and pressure where Sam's already buried. Gabriel's mouth opens on Sam's throat and he bites down hard when Dean slides in too, tight and vicious against his own dick.
Sam has to catch Gabriel's waist and hold him still.
Gabriel's making soft, little whimpery noises which Sam knows for a fact are neither pain nor protest. He knows if he were to tip the Archangel's head up and shove hair out of his face he'd find his eyes blown to hell, mouth wide and wet. Gabriel likes to get lost completely.
Gabriel moves, one slow sliding shove that makes Sam gasp and dig his nails in. Dean jerks up and in on reflex.
"Fuck, Gabriel."
Gabriel shudders and goes still when they slide in all the way, one steady rock together and everything is too tight and too much and Gabriel always looks so fucking fragile when he does this. Like they're going to break him. Sam should know by now that they won't, that they can't. But it never stops him trying to hold onto him anyway.
Sam can feel Castiel's hands, trailing from Dean's waist to Gabriel's, fingertips brushing the hard points of his hips on every slide. Like he's trying to hold them all at the same time. Too distracted by the push and shift of flesh.
Sam looks up and catches the angel's eyes over Dean's shoulder. They're that wet, inhuman shade of blue. Sharp with lust. Like if there was any possible way for Gabriel to take him too it would already be happening. God, Sam can't think that, can't, can't - Jesus Christ - and Gabriel shudders and moans like he can see it inside his head. There's a breath of laughter and arousal into the plane of his cheek and then Gabriel's dragging his head round and kissing him, kissing him like he never wants to stop. All anger and need and desperate, possessive want.
Castiel's making soft noises, noises that make Sam dig his fingers into Gabriel's back and Dean give one short, tight shove that leaves Gabriel's mouth wide open.
Sam suspects Castiel already has his fingers inside Dean. He knows the sounds his brother makes when he's opened up, when he wants it. Those deep, hard little breaths that shake and demand.
Gabriel distracts him with a sharp dig of fingers and a near-brutal shove down. Like he thinks nothing, nothing at all, of pushing them both to the edge.
Until Dean's hand curves round Gabriel's shoulder, presses him down into Sam's chest. Presses him down and holds him there. Then Dean makes a noise that sounds ripped out of him. Rough with hunger and edged with discomfort. It comes with a steady increase of weight and pressure.
Sam knows without looking that Castiel is inside his brother. Leaving a messy, but complete connection between then all. He'd thought at the beginning that this was the sort of thing that could kill you. But he's learned since then that it's just enough, just enough to come out the other side alive.
Sam has his hands tight on Gabriel's hips, fingers pressing into the curving edge of Dean's waist on every steady push. It's messy and awkward and hot and Sam can barely breathe through the weight of it. Of what they've become, without ever meaning to. There's barely any room to move, to push in or up and yet he can feel the slow pull that tells him it doesn’t matter, that the unsteady grind and shove is going to be enough. Everything is heavier now. Dean's every exhale is messy and the tight catch of his fingers in Gabriel's hair drags him away from Sam's mouth, every time he slams in as hard as he can.
Gabriel's skin is burning, eyes bright, every kiss edged with the sharpness of teeth and the low whine of greedy impatience. It can't last. They're always too much together. Always an inch away from burning up. He's barely thought it before Gabriel is all tension and quick, ragged shoves. Pulling Sam's head back with sharp fingers so he can groan against the curve of his throat, and fall to a stop in one bright clench of obscene tightness and shivery bliss.
Sam can't breathe.
He stops trying, lets it all shake out when he comes, spilling warmth, and Dean makes a loose noise of shock and then stills.
There's a long pause, filled with wet, rough breathing and twitches of pleasure.
Before Dean's sliding free, sliding back into Castiel grip, still aggressively greedy. He falls to his hands, braces one on Sam's thigh, mouth open, body shaking with every shove, careful becoming quick and unsteady. Until Castiel breaks too, in one long breathless noise that sounds like worship.
Dean collapses completely, Castiel sliding down after him with absolutely none of the angelic grace Sam knows he's capable of.
Dean breathes low, shaky swearwords into the bed, one arm flung over Sam's leg. He makes no move to push Castiel off, though he does make a grumbling, complaining noise just for appearances sake.
Gabriel's just weight on Sam's chest, sticky and too hot. Sam throws an arm around him anyway, listens to the vibration when he laughs. When he slides a hand up into Sam's hair and holds it tight enough to hurt. Pulls his head down, and the kiss he gives him is slow and wet and lazy-hot.
~~~~~
Dean's brain won't shut up. Even though his body has hit that brick wall of bliss and crashed, his brain is still turning over inside his skull. One messy twist after another.
Castiel is solid warmth against his arm, silent and still, but real enough. The weight of his hand is laid on Dean's stomach, fingers curled slightly like they want to hold on.
Gabriel's pressed in behind the other angel, Dean can feel his leg under Castiel's
Sam's half sprawled over Gabriel's back, one arm curled round his waist like he thinks someone might try and take him away while he's sleeping
Dean wonders if he sleeps like that. Decides he probably does.
This is how the bed's supposed to be. Warm, crowded, unique in its strange human/angel smell, overlaid with the faint but really freakin' pervasive trace of candy.
It's everything it should be, but his body's only letting him sleep in snatches. It's like his brain is afraid if he closes his eyes for five minute it'll all disappear. All his attempts to tell it to chill the fuck out are completely useless. His subconscious is too well trained. Bastard thing.
He lifts a hand, finds the loose warmth of Castiel's fingers. He doesn't even mean to. It's like he's just checking, just making sure. But they curl and close around his own, a slow, steady tangle.
God, it feels like forever since there was anyone Dean could just touch. You don't get that casual familiarity when you don't trust anyone, when your whole life is moving around and killing things. Because the people they save are like - fuck - they're almost like a different species sometimes. He knows how messed up that is. But when they're screaming and clinging and shaking their heads like they still don't believe, friends and family members torn open in front of them and they still don't quite believe what they're seeing. It's like they're a million miles away and always will be.
Dean had figured that he'd never get to have this. He'd never really get anyone he could just - touch. This is maybe the first time it's occurred to him that he can. That he can touch whenever he wants to. Any time he wants to, any time he needs to.
So, yeah, four days sleeping on his own again after he'd just managed to accept that maybe he could have that. That hadn't exactly been good on his nerves.
Castiel shifts, like maybe he can feel Dean's tension, or perhaps he's reading his mind. There's a rasp of beard, that never gets any longer and never gets a shave, against his shoulder.
"Dean?"
Dean hushes him quiet, before that sleepy voice becomes something low and demanding. He buries the fingers of his other hand in Castiel's mad hair, lets them drift through it. It's an indulgence he's getting far too used to. But some things, once you're allowed, you just can't stop.
He knows Gabriel and Castiel, if they're paying attention both already know he's awake. But Dean also knows that it's important you deal with your own crap.
There's a murmur from across the bed, something quiet and sleepy and it takes Dean a second to realise that Sam's dreaming. Castiel makes a very soft noise of amusement and Gabriel shifts away, leg sliding off of Dean's. The bed creaks and then Sam settles again with a very quiet sigh.
Dean snorts into the darkness, because at least someone is managing to block out their own subconscious.
"Go to sleep," Castiel says quietly, and it's a rumble of command against his skin.
Dean's getting far too used to doing what that voice tells him to.
~~~~~
The road's almost empty this early in the morning. Dean has the window open, the music playing on half volume. Sam's a long stretch of limbs in the passenger seat, all lazy sway and half-smile.
Castiel's in the back, against the window. Gabriel's managed to slither round, legs balanced on the door, head in Castiel's lap.
Dean's not even going to complain about the boots on the door. He's just relieved to have everyone back where they're supposed to be.
They're a pair of girls, it's official. Dean's blaming both the angels in the backseat for his downfall.
"So, what happened upstairs?" he asks, when the motel isn't even a dot behind them.
Gabriel huffs amusement.
"They were more welcoming that we anticipated," Castiel says quietly.
"Understatement bro," Gabriel says through a laugh. "It's a fucking mess up there, too full of snot-nosed youngsters who've never had an original thought in their lives. And all the angels capable of making decisions on their own are now refusing to do exactly that since it led to an apocalypse and the biggest massacre of angels since the original war in heaven. It's like a shitstorm of performance anxiety."
"What about Michael."
"Michael's pretty much locked himself in his room so he can listen to angsty music," Gabriel grumbles.
"He is unwilling to take charge at present," Castiel says.
Gabriel makes a rude noise up at him. Like he disapproves of Castiel's bland translations of his poetic descriptions.
"He doesn't know how to take charge. He's fine when he's reading from a script. This is post-apocalypse for him. It's all blank pages. Adding in the fact he had to smack the crap out of his little brother, again - well you can see why he's not exactly the go-to guy at the moment."
Yeah, Dean's not exactly going to feel guilty about that.
"To be fair, I've had more than enough of my brothers and their ridiculous schemes. Whether it be when they're trying to kill me or trying to recruit me."
"They were more concerned with killing me at the time," Castiel reminds him.
"You were a dangerous criminal," Gabriel says, lifting a hand long enough to ruffle Castiel's already messy hair.
He laughs at Castiel’s unimpressed glare.
"But, hey, dad hasn't come back, hasn't shown up. Even though we did technically hit the big 'ol reset button on the apocalypse. I think there's something we're supposed to be doing, or they're supposed to be doing."
"You think you know what he wants?" Sam asks.
Castiel frowns, like maybe it hurts to try and imagine the mind of God. But Gabriel just makes an intrigued noise, stretches his legs out a little.
"I think he wants us to evolve," Gabriel says quietly. He sounds half bemused and half entertained.
"Can you even do that?" Sam asks over the back of the seat. "I thought you were like eternal and unchangeable."
"I think I'm pretty much proof that we're not unchangeable, Sam," Gabriel reminds him through a grin
"But they wanted you to stay right?" Dean asks.
"Oh yes, and believe me I've never heard as many backhanded 'I'm sorry we tried to kill you' apologies in my life. Closely followed by the guilt. The guys upstairs know a million ways to try and guilt you into things. And when you drop the flesh you can actually feel that. It's nasty. Seriously, you think Cas has personal space issues, try being made entirely of power and light and sparkles. Brings a whole new meaning to the term 'inappropriate touching.'"
Gabriel lifts a hand and makes some sort of complicated gesture with it. Then gives up, as if hands are insufficient for this flavour of show and tell.
Dean really doesn't like the sound of that though.
"It's more like sharing," Castiel offers.
"I don't share," Gabriel says flatly.
It's Castiel's turn to raise an eyebrow. Then pointedly look at Sam and Dean.
Gabriel sighs loudly.
"Oh alright, sometimes I share. But not with upstart Archangels and their lackeys."
"What the hell?" Dean demands.
"Oh believe me, I put Raguel on his metaphysical ass for getting a little too friendly."
"Did we meet him?" Sam asks.
"Yes," Castiel supplies.
Gabriel waves a hand out. "That was the pompous, officious one that had the vessel that look like it was about to die of consumption. Honestly, I was out of my vessel ten minutes, not even time to get used to not having fingers. He deserved it."
"You're an Archangel with pagan god reflexes. It's an interesting combination," Castiel says.
"You say 'interesting' like it's a bad thing, Cas. Also, I think you mean special." Gabriel drawls out the word like it's something dirty.
"Yes," Castiel says firmly. "That too."
The next time Dean looks in the mirror Castiel is folded over, one of Gabriel's hands wrapped round the back of his neck. Gabriel' laughing quietly into his mouth and Castiel is taking every quiet murmur, hand sliding up Gabriel's throat to rest in his hair.
Castiel draws away slowly, mouth still wet and Dean really is going to crash the goddamn car if he doesn't look at the road now.
"But you got back ok?"
"We were persistent about our refusal to stay," Castiel says firmly. Like there's a whole story under there.
Gabriel makes a low sound of approval.
"You're hot when you're a badass you know, skin or no skin."
Castiel accepts the compliment with a smile that Dean suspects he learned off the Archangel. Dean kind of knows how much of a stubborn son of a bitch Castiel can be. He thinks he's definitely going to press for details later.
"They never tried to stop us. Though there was a sweaty-palmed sort of desperation there towards the end. A thousand last minute things to do. Really, angels never learned subtlety, it's just embarrassing."
"We agreed to return to help if we were not too busy." Castiel manages to make that sound way more amusing than it probably was. Dean thinks all that fantastic sarcasm they've been teaching Cas is completely wasted on the angels. Who just don't get it.
"And if they ask nicely," Gabriel adds. And they all know how good the angels are at that.
They stop for gas at just gone ten.
Gabriel doesn't move from Castiel's lap. Sam goes on a quest for snacks while Dean fills her up. The whole world still feels quiet. Only this is a relaxed sort of quiet. A quiet without tension. Not being hunted, not being chased, it takes some getting used to.
Sam's giant arms look like they've stolen everything the store has. He slides back into the passenger seat and shoves most of it in his bag, before reaching over the back and dropping a bag of M&Ms on Gabriel's stomach.
Gabriel points a finger at him.
"You're my favourite."
It takes him four miles to eat them all. A quick, wet crunch of candy, with the occasional raised arm to slip a green one into Castiel's mouth. Castiel never once protests. Though he does spend a long minute distracted when Gabriel slithers upright and kisses him when they pass a field full of cornflowers.
"So, this sharing thing," Sam asks curiously. Dean recognises his interested research voice a mile away. "Could we do that with you."
Castiel looks up head tilting slowly to the side.
"With me, perhaps, if I was very careful and you did exactly as I told you."
Castiel stops as if he's unsure what to say next.
"Gabriel would..."
"I'd vaporize you," Gabriel says, staring at the ceiling of the car. "I'd fry you both like eggs on the side of a nuclear reactor."
"Nice visual," Dean offers into the mirror.
"I thought you'd appreciate that."
Sam makes a quiet noise, like maybe he regrets bringing it up. Like sometimes he forgets that they're not the same species.
"But you're our favourite species," Gabriel insists, actually proving Dean right for once. Either that or he's developing creepy mind-reading powers of his own. God, he hopes not. Two people being party to his hot girl fantasies are bad enough. And honestly, the fact that he still has hot girl fantasies kind of makes him feel like a traitor.
"I make a really hot girl," Gabriel supplies. Like they formed some consensus about how just blurting out people's thoughts was ok.
Dean looks in the mirror, but all he can see is the curve of Gabriel's knee and half of Castiel's face.
"Also, it triples the amount of sexual positions I can get away with."
Dean swivels round, far enough to shoot Gabriel a look.
"Really?"
Sam sighs, boot knocking on the door.
"Dean, watch the road or you'll crash into something."
"I will not crash into something," Dean protests, swerving for a pot hole, of all things, a fucking pot hole. "Christ, I thought the whole 'pretending to be someone else' was just surface paint."
"Ha," Gabriel says sharply, like he finds Dean amusing. "Castiel's body used to be human. He's pretty much locked in this pretty face you see right here." Gabriel lifts a hand and smacks Castiel's cheek sharply. "I'm an Archangel, I can wear whatever I like."
There's a filthy chuckle.
"Ask Sam."
Sam clears his throat in a way that completely fails to sound innocent.
Dean shoots him a glare when he completely refuses to refute anything
"Dude, you banged him as a girl and didn't tell me?"
"It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. You were out checking the EMF in that creepy red brick house and he was messing with maid service in that big hotel."
"Sam." He really doesn't mean that to sound so much like a whiny accusation.
"It's not like you haven't had sex with thousands of girls Dean."
Dean shoots him a look that says 'thousands, really?' When something occurs to him.
"Cas has never had sex with a girl."
Gabriel tilts his head back to look up. Castiel looks back at him curiously. Judging by the exchange of smiles from Gabriel and exasperated looks from Castiel they're having a silent conversation.
And then Gabriel grins up at him, all teeth and lechery.
"Oh. little bro, we can't be having that."
Dean looks in the mirror at where Gabriel now has Castiel's fingers tangled through his own, smirk gone vicious and wicked on his face. Dean has no excuse, none, for the reaction he has to that.
"The next motel we see I'm stopping," he says roughly.
"Dean it's only half ten in the morning," Sam says sensibly.
"Your point?"
Sam waves an arm desperately.
"Alright, fine, I have no point."
~~~~~
They spend 90% of Thursday 8th July in bed.
Dean wonders, in a vague sort of way, if they're going to need some sort of twelve step program.
~~~~~
Dean's in the bathroom, perched on the edge of the bath, fishing through the first aid tin for a needle, one that won't fuck his back all to hell. Because the cut's not that deep, there's no muscle showing. Nothing he hasn't done after a hunt a thousand times. Some of the monsters hanging around had managed to slip straight out of hell, snacking on people like they candy, they'll be better prepared next time.
Sam had gotten off better, though Dean thinks the side of his face is going to be a nasty shade of purple tomorrow.
When he very carefully starts to slide his coat off he's not expecting the hands that slide under the collar and help him ease it down. Too small to be Cas's.
His coat ends up in the bath.
"Did you have fun upstairs," he asks.
"Oodles," Gabriel drawls. Which Dean is going to take to mean 'hell no.'
"Where's Cas?"
"Talking to Sam, he brought him books. So it's turned into a huge nerdgasm out there," Gabriel says.
Dean grunts and very carefully peels his shirt off, the half-dried tug of cloth and skin making him wince.
Gabriel makes a noise like he disapproves of whatever mess has become of Dean's back.
"What did you do, Winchester?" His voice is quieter than usual.
"Some dirty flying thing try to pick me up. I convinced it that would be a bad idea."
"Hmm, and how did you do that?" Gabriel asks.
"I shot one of its feet off."
Gabriel laughs, smooth and unsurprised.
"Classy."
There's the soft press of fingers into his shoulder.
"I could just fix this you know," Gabriel says.
Dean bites the thread at the right length, then drags it through the needle.
"You could," he says, and makes sure there's a warning in his tone.
Dean stares into the mirror again, realises this is going to be near impossible for him to do by himself. The bright line of it still obscured by blood, and too close to the bend of his shoulder blade. The skin will shift and stretch every time he moves.
He takes a breath and then holds out the needle to Gabriel.
Who eyes it in disgust like there's not a chance in hell.
"Dean -" he protests, stiff and unhappy.
"Will you just stitch it."
Because this fucking means something. They're not toys to be played with, to be put back together whenever they break. This is what their life is. You live being careful of the consequences, because of the pain, the sprains and the breaks, or you don't live at all. If Gabriel doesn't get that, if he can't accept that, then they're going to have more problems than trying to share a bed between four people.
Gabriel glares at him and takes the needle, pushes gently but wordlessly on Dean's shoulder until he's bent slightly into the sink.
The first sharp dig of the needle is slow and unhappy. But Gabriel's stitches are small, angry and precise.
"You realise this is like taking a Monet to an art restorer and then demanding he fix it with duct tape and staples, right?"
"You know if we don't compromise this thing is never going to work," Dean says flatly. Because they can't just pretend forever. That there isn't a fucking huge power imbalance here. They can't ignore it. They can't pretend it isn't there.
The bathroom's heavy with quiet.
"You're prepared to meet us halfway then," Gabriel says stiffly. "The next time we want something you don't like the sound of."
Dean grunts. "Yeah,"
Gabriel makes a rude noise through his nose.
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"No, but I trust you, you and Cas, to not want anything that could fuck us up."
Gabriel's hand stills. Like he didn't expect that.
"You have to trust us to know what we're doing too," Dean adds.
"In wanting to be pieced together like a broken vase." A thumb gently trails the skin of his back, faintly slippery under the blood.
"Gabriel -"
"No, you don't get the moral high ground here. I'm the fucking angel who's currently stitching your skin back together. It's completely unnecessary when you know what I'm capable of.
"Not for shit like this though." Dean gestures at his shoulder in the mirror. Because it's just a cut, not even half a dozen stitches. It's not going to put him out of action, it's not going to keep him up a night.
"Shit like this is where it starts," Gabriel says stiffly.
"Well then it's a good job we have you to continually bitch at us about it."
Gabriel sticks him for that. He fucking knows it. Dean hisses and glares in the mirror at him.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it."
There's the faint snap of thread and Gabriel hands the needle over Dean's shoulder.
Dean catches his wrist instead, hauls him back round so he can see him. Though the angel's still stiff and unyielding. A petulant and slow simmering anger at the stark, breakable humanity of him.
It's weird how familiar Gabriel is to Dean now. The way they went from separate to...to this. They fit better than he could have ever believed. All their broken pieces slamming together just right, insecurity against arrogance, pride against vulnerability, and stubbornness against a willingness to bend.
Part of Dean wants to keep them all here, in motel rooms. Where, for some crazy reason, they're just right. Where it all makes sense. To not take this thing out into the light, into the world and make it real. Because the world has been fucking him over since he could walk. It's always taken perverse joy in smashing apart everything he's ever had.
"I know something about bad habits. I'm not keen on starting any more."
Gabriel's eyebrow goes up in one sharp movement.
"Oh Dean, there isn't enough time in the world to tell you about all the bad habits I've picked up."
Dean grunts.
"I like your bad habits."
The eyebrow goes up higher.
"I like some of your bad habits," Dean concedes.
Gabriel still looks undecided. If he'd been a girl Dean would have tugged him down into his lap and played his favourite game of distraction.
He doesn't have the first idea what you're supposed to do with another man. He's been pretty much winging this since day one. Never entirely sure what he's doing, just certain that he's going to dig his heels in and keep it this time. But he figures if he's having one of the most unconventional relationships in the history of mankind he can break a few rules.
So fuck it. He tugs Gabriel down until he's in his lap, making grumbling noises and heavy in all the wrong places. But Dean shuts him up pretty quickly, hands turning his head until he can crush Gabriel's mouth with him own. The protest turns into a long exhale that's warm against his cheek.
Sharp fingers end up dug into the back of his neck and Gabriel's kissing back, hard enough to tell Dean exactly which one of them needs to restrain their enthusiasm.
"You are so irritatingly, annoyingly human," Gabriel hisses against his mouth. There's a weight of something behind the words, something like frustration and desperation. Something confused and sharp.
It makes Dean tighten his grip and grunt agreement.
Gabriel eventually huffs something irritated and slides off of his lap.
"Way to make me feel like a girl."
Dean feels like pointing out that he is the smallest. Though, judging by the super bitchface he gets Gabriel heard it anyway. He's been hanging around Sam too much, because it looks a lot like his.
By the time Dean shoves the first aid kit back together Gabriel's gone.
He pulls his shirt back on, stitches warning him not to stretch too far. He'll have to either stitch up the shirt too or throw it out. Usually their jackets take the brunt of all the damage. But Dean hadn't realised how sharp those damn flying monstrosities claws were going to be.
There's pizza when he gets out of the bathroom, Sam's already halfway through one of the boxes where he's sat on the bed, boots kicked off. One hand is eating and one hand is tapping the keys on his laptop. Gabriel's sprawled out next to him.
Sam's face is missing the stark redness that was there when they got back. Which suggests one of the angels took care of it. Castiel probably, because Dean thinks maybe Gabriel understands more than him. Though whether Gabriel would have been able to look at that stark reminder of how fucking breakable Sam was - hell maybe it was Gabriel. He's almost as protective of Sam as Dean is.
Castiel is peering into the other box like he objects to the smell of tomatoes and melted cheese.
Dean shoves his boots off and carefully sits back against the headboard with them. Castiel offers him the box. Dean pulls out two pieces and turns one of them and offers it to the angel.
Castiel frowns, pointedly.
"Come on, dude, contrary to popular belief your body is not a temple."
"I don't need to eat," he reminds him, again. In that slow, firm way. Dean's starting to think that's his one excuse.
"You don't need to have sex either," Gabriel points out. "But I haven't heard you objecting to that yet."
Castiel sighs with a sort of long suffering resignation and reaches out, gets a handful of cheese and oil and tomato sauce.
"There you go," Dean feels like a proud parent, he really does. Even though that analogy is maybe a little bit wrong considering.
They all watch Castiel eat, which he seems to find irritating, but it's only fair, since he has a tendency to watch them sleep. Like the little creeper he is.
Gabriel snorts laughter and Castiel scowls at him.
"Sirens," Sam says suddenly.
"Huh?" Dean offers.
"There have been a lot of boats wrecked off shore." Sam swivels the laptop round. "I think maybe it could be sirens."
"Too far east," Dean says around a mouthful of pizza. "Anything closer?"
Sam clicks through his bookmarks.
"Apparently a giant hole opened in the ground in Sedona?"
"A giant hole?" Dean asks dubiously.
Sam nods.
"Too early to tell if anything's come out of it yet. But I'm thinking giant holes opening up after the apocalypse probably isn't a good thing."
"Are giant holes opening up at any time a good thing?" Dean wonders.
"There's also some cattle mutilations on the way -"
"Aliens," Gabriel offers and steals the piece of pizza Sam's waving about as a demonstration.
" - but I don't know if stopping to look at them is wise if the big giant hole turns out to be the demonic equivalent of an active volcano."
Dean grunts.
"I guess it's not just our decision any more. I think Gabriel and Cas get votes now too," he says, before digging in the box for another piece. "If they plan on sticking around."
"It would be hard to watch you sleep if I didn't," Castiel says carefully.
Dean shoves a hand in Castiel's hair and pushes it all the wrong way.
"Like you don't know we think you're awesome by now."
Castiel very carefully finds another piece of pizza lifts it, like he's mortally afraid it will drip sauce all over his trench coat. Which made it through the damn apocalypse just fine.
"I believe that exploring this sudden hole in the earth would be wise," he says.
"Agreed," Gabriel says. "Creepy hole in the ground it is." He pushes Sam's laptop shut and slides it off the bed before claiming most of its space in Sam's lap with one lazy sprawl.
Sam doesn't object.
"How many times have I told you to take your coat off before we eat?" Dean tells Castiel.
Castiel stops halfway through his slice of pizza.
Dean takes it from him while he slips his coat and jacket off and lays them over their bags, before moving back to sit next to Sam. Dean decides laziness trumps manliness once again. He leans back and Castiel takes his weight like its nothing. All warmth and crisp fabric.
"So we'll leave before eight tomorrow, we should get there just before lunch."
"Can I drive?" Gabriel asks. With all the wilful recklessness of someone who doesn't expect him to say yes.
Dean digs out another piece of pizza.
"I'll think about it."
~~~~~
The giant hole in the ground turns out to be just that.
Though the Grand Canyon is too close and too tempting not to visit.
It's pretty awesome.
~~~~~
There's a phone ringing somewhere far away.
Or maybe it's close, Sam can't really tell, he's mashed into the warm skin of someone's arm and someone heavy is laying on his back.
"Your phone," Dean mumbles somewhere near his hair.
"Not it," Castiel says from somewhere behind Dean. They have definitely been a bad influence on him.
"I don't know anyone," Sam says, or thinks he says. There's a chance it just comes out as random noise. He's laying on Gabriel, he knows as much because he smells faintly of chocolate.
"Your phone," Dean says again.
Which is true, because Dean's phone was smashed to pieces when that angry ghost lumberjack hit it with an axe.
Sam protests via the medium of random noises.
"Gabriel, answer the phone," he mutters.
The body he's laying on grunts.
"What am I your secretary?"
The bed jiggles and there's a muted click.
"Winchesters den of iniquity, how may I direct your call?"
Dean snorts amusement into Sam's back. Sam thinks maybe he's going to regret that. He tips his head back and finds the amused curve of Gabriel's mouth and the silver glint of his own phone.
Gabriel tips the phone away so he can speak.
"Apparently saving the world from an apocalypse is not an excuse for self-indulgent angelic orgies and you have to get your asses out of bed and hunt some monsters."
"Tell Bobby we've been killing monsters in-between the self-indulgent angelic orgies," Dean mumbles.
The bearded displeasure is audible even half a foot away and buried in pillows.
"I do believe Bobby heard that," Castiel supplies.
"How do we feel about hell harpies?" Gabriel asks after a pause.
"I couldn't eat a whole one," Dean decides.
Sam laughs despite himself, presses his face into Gabriel's skin to muffle the sound.
"The Winchesters have decided they would like to kill some hell harpies today," Gabriel tells Bobby.
There's a pause, during which Gabriel's face goes through several flavours of amusement.
"Bobby is so sarcastically glad about that. Also, you're idiots."
"Idjits," Dean, Sam and Castiel correct automatically.