I can see you’re on the run. If you tell me where you’re going, I’ll tell you where you’re bound...
OOC: Request fic for
yetregressing with the prompt, "We were drunk and carsick when we rolled into town." Set in my... Random 'verse where Cas, Anna, and the Trickster go off on merry adventures.
Somewhere in all this insanity about finding God and the Winchesters being out of touch with... Something- reality, probably- one of the two idiots he was traveling with forgot to mention that anyone within a ten foot radius of them was bound to get attacked by an archangel. This was something that MIGHT HAVE BEEN IMPORTANT TO BRING UP, because Gabriel liked being alive, and he wasn't exactly chummy with his brother archangels these days on account of him turning Pagan on them. And, you know, they were kinda all assholes.
They got out of that particular mess alive, though.
...Barely.
Anna figured it out pretty quickly that somehow the angels were monitoring teleports. How the hell they were managing that was a question Gabriel really wanted an answer to, but as he wasn't in a position to walk up to Zachariah and demand to know what the fuck was happening, it was a question he was going to have to deal with not knowing the answer to.
What this meant was that they'd have to invest in a car. No one was happy with this realization, least of all Castiel, who, apparently, felt like Lucifer might have been hinting at something when he'd focused on the car back during their last meeting. Gabriel had been quick to point out that Lucifer, being completely not psychic, was probably just confused because if angels were meant to ride in cars, they would not have been given fancy teleporting capabilities.
Gabriel paced around the used car lot- the town had been vacated due to some revelation sign or another, since they were cropping up everywhere like apocalyptic daisies- while Anna poked at the car, itself. Castiel had, apparently, wandered off to stare at something intensely or whatever it was he did. "All I'm sayin' is that there is probably some old Enochian mojo someone can whip up that will effectively shield us and we don't have to drive cross country in... That."
That was some guy's Pontiac. Gabriel was itching to turn it into a sports car, but someone made Anafiel (and Gabriel was not going to stop calling her that, because she explicitly stated she hated it and that was reason enough for him) the boss of everyone, and she was convinced that if something like teleporting was sending out BIG RED BEACONS to the other angels than using any of their abilities might be a problem. Taking orders from a lower angel when that lower angel was telling him not to make his own life more comfortable? Not his idea of a good time.
...Why did he agree to this again? Right. Because some nancy-boy human called him a chicken and color him Michael J. Fox, but those were fighting words in his head.
"Do you know anything off the top of your head, Gabriel?" Anna asked, poking her head out from underneath the steering wheel, her face smeared with dirt. When he refused to dignify that with a response (because he didn't have one), she ducked back down, leaving him to continue to wander aimlessly about the parking lot. This was just plain uncomfortable, not being able to make anything appear, not being able to be wherever he wanted to be... Not being able to snap his fingers and make unfortunate things happen to completely deserving people.
...It felt human, actually.
"Oh, honestly," he finally snapped, spinning on his heels and marching back to the Pontiac. "Have you ever played Grand Theft Auto?"
"It never came up, Gabe." Anna's voice was muffled under the dash, but still exasperated. "And this isn't nearly as easy as it looks in the movies." She finally climbed back up into the driver's seat and stared grumpily at the steering wheel for a moment before adding, "And if you want to do it, I won't stop you."
"You know what could fix this?" He waggled his eyebrows. Anna's response was to open the door hard enough to catch him in the chest with a surprising amount of force.
"No, Gabriel. Unless you want the archangels raining down on us."
He staggered back with an annoyed growl. Little sisters. They are, indeed, a pain in the ass, and here he thought he got away from that by leaving Heaven. Now he had a bossy little sister and a stoic little brother that he just kinda wanted to dropkick, and they were going to travel across the country in a fucking Pontiac to find their missing father.
....
Oh, God. They're like the Winchesters. Plus one. Without the nice car. That realization, alone, was enough to make him spew his pancake breakfast.
Castiel appeared before he could think about too much- well, not so much appeared, as walked up to the two of them, since appearing wasn't going to happen, but it felt like it, since Gabriel hadn't been paying attention- dangling a set of keys from his fingers. "I think these might help."
Gabriel's jaw dropped and, immediately, he turned to Anna. Of them all, she was the one who had actually been human. The logic of just stealing the keys from the stupid front desk probably should have occurred to her before anyone, whether she'd been stuck in the body of a good Christian girl or not. The fact that it didn't occur to him was kind of mindblowing, but he was the one used to going, OH SNAP, AND THEN THERE WERE KEYS, so he had more of an excuse than Anna.
The look Anna flashed him was positively murderous right before she faceplanted onto the steering wheel. Not daunted by that, because, at this point, it would just be stupid to be daunted by anything, Gabriel snatched the keys out of Castiel's hands with a smirk. Right, well this was all going to Hell in a Barbie dream car. The least he could do was be completely insufferable the whole way there.
"I call shotgun."
Muse: The Trickster/Gabriel
Word Count: 985
yetregressing with the prompt, "We were drunk and carsick when we rolled into town." Set in my... Random 'verse where Cas, Anna, and the Trickster go off on merry adventures.
Somewhere in all this insanity about finding God and the Winchesters being out of touch with... Something- reality, probably- one of the two idiots he was traveling with forgot to mention that anyone within a ten foot radius of them was bound to get attacked by an archangel. This was something that MIGHT HAVE BEEN IMPORTANT TO BRING UP, because Gabriel liked being alive, and he wasn't exactly chummy with his brother archangels these days on account of him turning Pagan on them. And, you know, they were kinda all assholes.
They got out of that particular mess alive, though.
...Barely.
Anna figured it out pretty quickly that somehow the angels were monitoring teleports. How the hell they were managing that was a question Gabriel really wanted an answer to, but as he wasn't in a position to walk up to Zachariah and demand to know what the fuck was happening, it was a question he was going to have to deal with not knowing the answer to.
What this meant was that they'd have to invest in a car. No one was happy with this realization, least of all Castiel, who, apparently, felt like Lucifer might have been hinting at something when he'd focused on the car back during their last meeting. Gabriel had been quick to point out that Lucifer, being completely not psychic, was probably just confused because if angels were meant to ride in cars, they would not have been given fancy teleporting capabilities.
Gabriel paced around the used car lot- the town had been vacated due to some revelation sign or another, since they were cropping up everywhere like apocalyptic daisies- while Anna poked at the car, itself. Castiel had, apparently, wandered off to stare at something intensely or whatever it was he did. "All I'm sayin' is that there is probably some old Enochian mojo someone can whip up that will effectively shield us and we don't have to drive cross country in... That."
That was some guy's Pontiac. Gabriel was itching to turn it into a sports car, but someone made Anafiel (and Gabriel was not going to stop calling her that, because she explicitly stated she hated it and that was reason enough for him) the boss of everyone, and she was convinced that if something like teleporting was sending out BIG RED BEACONS to the other angels than using any of their abilities might be a problem. Taking orders from a lower angel when that lower angel was telling him not to make his own life more comfortable? Not his idea of a good time.
...Why did he agree to this again? Right. Because some nancy-boy human called him a chicken and color him Michael J. Fox, but those were fighting words in his head.
"Do you know anything off the top of your head, Gabriel?" Anna asked, poking her head out from underneath the steering wheel, her face smeared with dirt. When he refused to dignify that with a response (because he didn't have one), she ducked back down, leaving him to continue to wander aimlessly about the parking lot. This was just plain uncomfortable, not being able to make anything appear, not being able to be wherever he wanted to be... Not being able to snap his fingers and make unfortunate things happen to completely deserving people.
...It felt human, actually.
"Oh, honestly," he finally snapped, spinning on his heels and marching back to the Pontiac. "Have you ever played Grand Theft Auto?"
"It never came up, Gabe." Anna's voice was muffled under the dash, but still exasperated. "And this isn't nearly as easy as it looks in the movies." She finally climbed back up into the driver's seat and stared grumpily at the steering wheel for a moment before adding, "And if you want to do it, I won't stop you."
"You know what could fix this?" He waggled his eyebrows. Anna's response was to open the door hard enough to catch him in the chest with a surprising amount of force.
"No, Gabriel. Unless you want the archangels raining down on us."
He staggered back with an annoyed growl. Little sisters. They are, indeed, a pain in the ass, and here he thought he got away from that by leaving Heaven. Now he had a bossy little sister and a stoic little brother that he just kinda wanted to dropkick, and they were going to travel across the country in a fucking Pontiac to find their missing father.
....
Oh, God. They're like the Winchesters. Plus one. Without the nice car. That realization, alone, was enough to make him spew his pancake breakfast.
Castiel appeared before he could think about too much- well, not so much appeared, as walked up to the two of them, since appearing wasn't going to happen, but it felt like it, since Gabriel hadn't been paying attention- dangling a set of keys from his fingers. "I think these might help."
Gabriel's jaw dropped and, immediately, he turned to Anna. Of them all, she was the one who had actually been human. The logic of just stealing the keys from the stupid front desk probably should have occurred to her before anyone, whether she'd been stuck in the body of a good Christian girl or not. The fact that it didn't occur to him was kind of mindblowing, but he was the one used to going, OH SNAP, AND THEN THERE WERE KEYS, so he had more of an excuse than Anna.
The look Anna flashed him was positively murderous right before she faceplanted onto the steering wheel. Not daunted by that, because, at this point, it would just be stupid to be daunted by anything, Gabriel snatched the keys out of Castiel's hands with a smirk. Right, well this was all going to Hell in a Barbie dream car. The least he could do was be completely insufferable the whole way there.
"I call shotgun."
Muse: The Trickster/Gabriel
Word Count: 985