An Angel With All The Answers (That Piss Me Off) [Supernatural - Gabriel/Ruby - R]
Title: An Angel With All The Answers (That Piss Me Off)
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Gabriel/Ruby
Rating: R
Word Count: 637
Spoilers: Up to Season 5.
Warnings: Implied sex; language.
Summary: Ruby has an angelic stalker and it's annoying as hell. Well, not Hell, but you get the gist.
Disclaimer: Gabriel and by are not mine, and neither is Supernatural.
Notes: Written for cordeliadelayne as a gift at the spn_hetexchange. I hesitated writing this in first person, but that's how it came to me and I got stuck there.
I don't know what he wants from me. Well, I do, but we've been through that already, when I finally admitted he's right about me and what I'm in this for. Still, he shows up whenever I least expect it with roses and a pint of Cherry Garcia like that's what's going to woo me to his way of thinking. It's the smell that hits me first, something like a mix of spikenard and sweets. There's the knee-jerk panic, but then I turn around, and there he is with his smarmy little smirk and those eyebrows that have a language of their own. The fear fades a little faster every time. I say it's relief it's not some other angel come to vaporize me. He says there's no reason I should be ashamed I'm happy to see him. I tell him he's dreaming, but we both know that's the denial talking.
I know what's happening. It doesn't matter what he is, or how many times he reminds me of Dean, he charms the hell out of me, and I hate it. He's gotten under my skin, and no matter how much I claw, he won't come out. Even when he talks about Lucifer I listen. He opens his mouth and the doubts creep in. He says we're just the toy soldiers Syd's gonna strap with explosives after he's done playing, and I get angry, not because I think he's full of it, but because I'm afraid he's right. He would know, wouldn't he? "You're wrong," I tell him anyway, "we're his children, he loves us!" He doesn't have to acknowledge it. I know he can see right through me. "You can tell yourself that all you want, princess. That don't make it true."
I'm in his face at this point, glaring a hole through his head, because I know he's right. He's always right and I'm so fucking sick of it. He's been poking holes in my worldview since the day we met and this time around it's the poke that makes everything start to crumble. It's not just him I'm pissed at, it's me, the one more faithful than any of them, the one chosen for this job not despite my so-called disability but because of it. Not that any of that's something to brag about. I was stupid enough to believe the angel who hates humanity could ever give a damn about a demon.
I guess that's why instead of storming off, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down into a desperate kiss. I want something, anything to hold onto, and it's not like I haven't thought about it anyway. He accepts it eagerly, not that I expected anything less. He might be a total dick, but he's never looked down on me. I don't know why he thinks I'm worth it, but no matter how much I loathe myself, I'm not about to complain. If word ever gets around, this is just angry sex, like it should be, but we know better. It is angry, but that's just the surface. This? Is my breakdown. When I grab at his hair, when I cling to his now bare body, it's out of need. I need some comfort, whatever he's willing to give, and this is the only way I know how to get it without having to admit my weakness.
It's not until I'm completely exhausted that I roll away from him. He surprises me when he drapes an arm over me and pulls me into him again, but I don't fight it. Cuddling's not my thing, but as his lips brush against my neck, he makes up for with one low, mumbled phrase, his voice so smug yet somehow warm and earnest at the same time.
"Toldja you wanted me."
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Gabriel/Ruby
Rating: R
Word Count: 637
Spoilers: Up to Season 5.
Warnings: Implied sex; language.
Summary: Ruby has an angelic stalker and it's annoying as hell. Well, not Hell, but you get the gist.
Disclaimer: Gabriel and by are not mine, and neither is Supernatural.
Notes: Written for cordeliadelayne as a gift at the spn_hetexchange. I hesitated writing this in first person, but that's how it came to me and I got stuck there.
I don't know what he wants from me. Well, I do, but we've been through that already, when I finally admitted he's right about me and what I'm in this for. Still, he shows up whenever I least expect it with roses and a pint of Cherry Garcia like that's what's going to woo me to his way of thinking. It's the smell that hits me first, something like a mix of spikenard and sweets. There's the knee-jerk panic, but then I turn around, and there he is with his smarmy little smirk and those eyebrows that have a language of their own. The fear fades a little faster every time. I say it's relief it's not some other angel come to vaporize me. He says there's no reason I should be ashamed I'm happy to see him. I tell him he's dreaming, but we both know that's the denial talking.
I know what's happening. It doesn't matter what he is, or how many times he reminds me of Dean, he charms the hell out of me, and I hate it. He's gotten under my skin, and no matter how much I claw, he won't come out. Even when he talks about Lucifer I listen. He opens his mouth and the doubts creep in. He says we're just the toy soldiers Syd's gonna strap with explosives after he's done playing, and I get angry, not because I think he's full of it, but because I'm afraid he's right. He would know, wouldn't he? "You're wrong," I tell him anyway, "we're his children, he loves us!" He doesn't have to acknowledge it. I know he can see right through me. "You can tell yourself that all you want, princess. That don't make it true."
I'm in his face at this point, glaring a hole through his head, because I know he's right. He's always right and I'm so fucking sick of it. He's been poking holes in my worldview since the day we met and this time around it's the poke that makes everything start to crumble. It's not just him I'm pissed at, it's me, the one more faithful than any of them, the one chosen for this job not despite my so-called disability but because of it. Not that any of that's something to brag about. I was stupid enough to believe the angel who hates humanity could ever give a damn about a demon.
I guess that's why instead of storming off, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down into a desperate kiss. I want something, anything to hold onto, and it's not like I haven't thought about it anyway. He accepts it eagerly, not that I expected anything less. He might be a total dick, but he's never looked down on me. I don't know why he thinks I'm worth it, but no matter how much I loathe myself, I'm not about to complain. If word ever gets around, this is just angry sex, like it should be, but we know better. It is angry, but that's just the surface. This? Is my breakdown. When I grab at his hair, when I cling to his now bare body, it's out of need. I need some comfort, whatever he's willing to give, and this is the only way I know how to get it without having to admit my weakness.
It's not until I'm completely exhausted that I roll away from him. He surprises me when he drapes an arm over me and pulls me into him again, but I don't fight it. Cuddling's not my thing, but as his lips brush against my neck, he makes up for with one low, mumbled phrase, his voice so smug yet somehow warm and earnest at the same time.
"Toldja you wanted me."