Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 05:37:59 UTC
Gabriel looked startled, then softer, then his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t actually listening at all, were you? I swear, between the three of you, you’ve almost got the observational powers of a small caterpillar. A purple one, with spots. You’re lucky I spent millenia drumming Dad’s messages through thicker skulls than yours. Neanderthals, surprisingly sharp.”
“You know what might work better? Saying what you’ve got to say instead of spending all your time ripping me a new one.” Dean glowered down at him, then lifted an eyebrow. “Kind of literally.”
He expected another burst of indignation and fury. Or protestations and explanations. He didn’t expect Gabriel to wince and go sort of pale, or to look away. “Yeah. Sorry about that bit. I sort of managed to forget about the whole... going to Hell thing. And you’re usually all gung-ho about...” He trailed off, and made a flappy hand gesture that might have meant anything from “rough sex” to “long mornings spent watching dying ducks flop about in sleeping bags”. You never really knew, with Gabriel.
Dean rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, repositioning his feet and body, definitely not a shrug or an awkward shuffle or anything like that. “Spent most of the last year not letting angels tear a ‘yes’ out of us, you know?”
Gabriel glanced up at him sharply. “And my little brother has spent more than that letting you tear him into something new and ragged and different altogether. And how often do you think to say thank you when he even passes you the butter, tiger?” Gabriel paused for a moment as Dean blinked, opening his mouth in protest that never really found itself words. Then, low and hard and clear, “You really surprised he’s kind of slow to let you take the rest of him as well?”
Dean blinked again, then scowled. “Quit it, Gabriel. He isn’t - it’s not like that, okay? Cas and I - we...” Well, granted, they rarely actually said it, but they didn’t need to, they knew it. Cas had this soft little half-smile that was only Dean’s, still only Dean’s, no matter his deep affection for Sam and Gabriel. And, Dean, well… Cas knew, that was all. He knew he was needed and wanted and loved. And appreciated. And all that. His voice came out rougher than he meant it. “He loves me, okay?”
“Course he does, the idiot kid adores you. That isn’t the same as trusting you. With all of him, inside and out.”
He got it. He really did. But Dean had done it for Cas. And it couldn’t be an angel thing, because Gabriel let Sam take him, and Dean, and Cas. Hell, Gabriel had let a donkey take him once, or something like that. Possibly a mule. Dean may have had a few beers by the time that subject had come up. It was a Cas thing. Except it wasn’t, because Dean remembered that back-to-the-future 2014 (oh God did he remember), and he was pretty sure that Cas hadn’t had any possible virginities left. Not that he wanted his Cas to be that Cas. At all.
Dean let out one breath, then another, soft and steady, because he was determined not to argue with Gabriel again, even if he was way out of line here. Except the gleam of Gabriel’s eyes under his lashes was sharp and hot and had just that little extra glint like molten gold that he got sometimes when he angelled out (and that was hot in a very different way), and Dean couldn’t quite look away, because this felt like the edge of something. Something important.
So of course what he heard himself say was a fucking petulant, “But I let him...”
Gabriel was on his feet before he could bite it off, right up in his face, his expression suddenly angelically blank and terrifying. Dean’s back was slammed up against the rough trunk of a tree, and how did Gabriel always manage to turn that height difference into nothing at all?
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 05:43:26 UTC
... and I shall post the rest in the morning. It will probably morph to 5 parts. This is what happens when you let Dean and Gabriel actually talk. Or, you know, have thoughts. Seriously, who gave them brains and emotions and histories? Ridiculous.
“You know what might work better? Saying what you’ve got to say instead of spending all your time ripping me a new one.” Dean glowered down at him, then lifted an eyebrow. “Kind of literally.”
He expected another burst of indignation and fury. Or protestations and explanations. He didn’t expect Gabriel to wince and go sort of pale, or to look away. “Yeah. Sorry about that bit. I sort of managed to forget about the whole... going to Hell thing. And you’re usually all gung-ho about...” He trailed off, and made a flappy hand gesture that might have meant anything from “rough sex” to “long mornings spent watching dying ducks flop about in sleeping bags”. You never really knew, with Gabriel.
Dean rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, repositioning his feet and body, definitely not a shrug or an awkward shuffle or anything like that. “Spent most of the last year not letting angels tear a ‘yes’ out of us, you know?”
Gabriel glanced up at him sharply. “And my little brother has spent more than that letting you tear him into something new and ragged and different altogether. And how often do you think to say thank you when he even passes you the butter, tiger?” Gabriel paused for a moment as Dean blinked, opening his mouth in protest that never really found itself words. Then, low and hard and clear, “You really surprised he’s kind of slow to let you take the rest of him as well?”
Dean blinked again, then scowled. “Quit it, Gabriel. He isn’t - it’s not like that, okay? Cas and I - we...” Well, granted, they rarely actually said it, but they didn’t need to, they knew it. Cas had this soft little half-smile that was only Dean’s, still only Dean’s, no matter his deep affection for Sam and Gabriel. And, Dean, well… Cas knew, that was all. He knew he was needed and wanted and loved. And appreciated. And all that. His voice came out rougher than he meant it. “He loves me, okay?”
“Course he does, the idiot kid adores you. That isn’t the same as trusting you. With all of him, inside and out.”
He got it. He really did. But Dean had done it for Cas. And it couldn’t be an angel thing, because Gabriel let Sam take him, and Dean, and Cas. Hell, Gabriel had let a donkey take him once, or something like that. Possibly a mule. Dean may have had a few beers by the time that subject had come up. It was a Cas thing. Except it wasn’t, because Dean remembered that back-to-the-future 2014 (oh God did he remember), and he was pretty sure that Cas hadn’t had any possible virginities left. Not that he wanted his Cas to be that Cas. At all.
Dean let out one breath, then another, soft and steady, because he was determined not to argue with Gabriel again, even if he was way out of line here. Except the gleam of Gabriel’s eyes under his lashes was sharp and hot and had just that little extra glint like molten gold that he got sometimes when he angelled out (and that was hot in a very different way), and Dean couldn’t quite look away, because this felt like the edge of something. Something important.
So of course what he heard himself say was a fucking petulant, “But I let him...”
Gabriel was on his feet before he could bite it off, right up in his face, his expression suddenly angelically blank and terrifying. Dean’s back was slammed up against the rough trunk of a tree, and how did Gabriel always manage to turn that height difference into nothing at all?
“You sad, sorry son of a bitch.”
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