“Strike” (Supernatural; Gabriel, Michael; gen)
Title: “Strike”
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel, Michael; gen
Genres: Drabble
Rating: G
Word Count: 227
Challenge: comment_fic/mangacrack, “Gabriel, he teaches his brothers how to bowl in the skies”
Summary: Gabriel and Michael bowl in the heavens.
Mirrors: AO3
Lightning tears the sky apart in a brilliant flash of white, and the thunder that rolls in its wake shakes the earth.
“There,” Gabriel says. “Simple.”
His wings crackle with electricity, spark shadows that throw the clouds into sharp relief. Gabriel smirks and cocks an eyebrow at Michael. The ball is heavy in his hands; his calloused fingers thread through the grips with an understated strength.
“Your turn.”
Michael narrows his eyes.
“Now is not a time to be frivolous and play games, Gabriel. There are things to be done. Plans that must go forward.”
“And there’s an unfinished game, right here,” Gabriel says, spreading his arms. “Or are you just gonna let me win?”
Michael’s shoulders tense. He says nothing, but steps forward and takes the ball from Gabriel, weighs it with one palm as his other tenses, then settles against the smooth surface.
The pins have been reset. Michael takes a deep breath-centers himself-unfurls those wings of fire, burning orange against the grey-black of the stormclouds, and releases the ball in a single, smooth arc.
The resulting crash plows through the clouds, shakes the heavens and the firmament alike; pins tumble and clouds shatter. The universe quakes. Walls of water beat against shorelines; the core of the Earth trembles, and volcanoes erupt in clouds of ash and rivers of fire.
Michael smiles.
“Strike.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel, Michael; gen
Genres: Drabble
Rating: G
Word Count: 227
Challenge: comment_fic/mangacrack, “Gabriel, he teaches his brothers how to bowl in the skies”
Summary: Gabriel and Michael bowl in the heavens.
Mirrors: AO3
Lightning tears the sky apart in a brilliant flash of white, and the thunder that rolls in its wake shakes the earth.
“There,” Gabriel says. “Simple.”
His wings crackle with electricity, spark shadows that throw the clouds into sharp relief. Gabriel smirks and cocks an eyebrow at Michael. The ball is heavy in his hands; his calloused fingers thread through the grips with an understated strength.
“Your turn.”
Michael narrows his eyes.
“Now is not a time to be frivolous and play games, Gabriel. There are things to be done. Plans that must go forward.”
“And there’s an unfinished game, right here,” Gabriel says, spreading his arms. “Or are you just gonna let me win?”
Michael’s shoulders tense. He says nothing, but steps forward and takes the ball from Gabriel, weighs it with one palm as his other tenses, then settles against the smooth surface.
The pins have been reset. Michael takes a deep breath-centers himself-unfurls those wings of fire, burning orange against the grey-black of the stormclouds, and releases the ball in a single, smooth arc.
The resulting crash plows through the clouds, shakes the heavens and the firmament alike; pins tumble and clouds shatter. The universe quakes. Walls of water beat against shorelines; the core of the Earth trembles, and volcanoes erupt in clouds of ash and rivers of fire.
Michael smiles.
“Strike.”