The air was dry with summer heat, and smoke was on the yellow moon

[whit_merule]

His Sam. His Chamael. His Samuel. His beloved, and now his brother again.  Dean and his beautiful, terrifying, world-changing fraternal adoration had been indulged long enough. He’d had his time with new-Sam, with Sam reunited with his old grace. He’d reassured himself that Sam was still Sam, adored him and worshipped him and doubtless done

Comments

[slvrcrystalc]

Awesome!

I really love your imagery, showing the in-humanness in the way they see, the way they are, re:
"He manifested his wings, sly and careful, aiming for just insubstantial enough that Sam’s human eyes wouldn’t catch the movement, suppressing their resonance on the frequencies that would trigger any of his angelic senses that weren’t currently locked onto the pull and throb of Gabriel’s blood, the thrill singing in the forefront of his mind, the fierce delight and relief of his soul. A delicate balance, but Gabriel had spent years carefully showing exactly as much of himself as he wanted to thousands of different creatures, and Sam was out of practise, and distracted."

also: "Now that he pointed it out, Sam had a point. A pointy one, which was pointed. Which he made very… firmly." <-- lolz

[whit_merule]

Thank you. :)

[whit_merule]

Always satisfying if you can make them sound convincingly canonesque mid-sex! Thanks. :)