Ten kisses for sale - now sold out!
The first ten eight people to comment with a pairing and a prompt get a kiss!drabble. Prompt can be specific ("first kiss, under the mistletoe, with people watching") or completely random ("feather"). If you don't get something within a half hour I will probably post it later tonight instead
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Somehow his thoughts filter over to the Trickster. He makes so much more sense now. The anger isn't there, nor is the sense of betrayal. But the lessons that he'd been trying to teach Sam, those he gets now, clearly. And he thinks he gets the Trickster -- or, he should say, Gabriel -- too. Even kind of likes him.
He supposes this would just give Dean more ammunition. He's grokking Gabriel? What further proof would Dean need that Sam is just a sociopath, not to be trusted?
But Dean doesn't have to know, and right now Sam's feeling a sort of kinship with the guy. Kind of missing him. His humor would be useful right about now If there's one thing his life is lacking without a soul, it's a sense of poetic justice. A punchline.
"Well, it's a good thing you still have a sense of humor, if very little else."
A pointed chin, arched eyebrows, green-gold eyes are interrupting his perfect blue sky. Sam frowns. "I'm dreaming."
"Are you? Can a guy with no psychological baggage dream at all?"
"That's the sort of thing you'd say in my dream."
"Oh, without emotions you're quicker on the draw than Sherlock." Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Well, that begs the next question. Which is: Why are you dreaming about me?"
"I don't know." Sam sits up, and promptly decides he doesn't like the universe when it's not pure blue. "Working out my issues with being Chaotic Good, I guess."
"Dork," Gabriel says pointedly. Sam shrugs. "Well, if this is your dream, big guy, tell me: would you dream me doing this?"
He lunges in with one movement and kisses Sam. Completely out of nowhere, with tongue and hands everywhere, and Sam objectively-without-emotions thinks it's not bad, if a bit bombastic. But Gabriel's not letting go, and Sam can't breathe very well with this much angel tongue in his mouth, so he starts to thrash and struggle.
All at once he's in his bed, covered with sweat and wide awake, having thrown all the sheets onto the floor. It's the middle of the night.
And now he's not sure he was dreaming.
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Also, hee! <3
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Thanks hon!
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Wow...
This is such a bittersweet mix of sadness, tragedy and a glimmer of hope.
The end had me going: "but, but, but, then what happened!?"
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