fic: Make This One Understand [SPN, Castiel/Gabriel]
Title: Make This One Understand
Author: littlehollyleaf
Pairing(s): Castiel/Gabriel, Castiel/Dean (implied)
Spoilers: up to and including 5.08
Category: angst, oh the angst!
Rating: NC-17
Warning: dubcon
Word count: 3,066
Summary: 5.08 coda. Castiel confronts Gabriel after the events of Changing Channels (yes, it's one of those :p) and they... discover things about each other ;) Title taken from Daniel 8:16, "And I heard a man's voice between the banks of Ulai, which called and said, Gabriel, make this one understand the vision."
Make this one understand
Castiel stops in the doorway and waits, arms still at his sides, trenchcoat flapping about his knees. But despite the piercing stare, the room's occupant ignores him completely.
The place itself is unremarkable. A simple, third storey apartment. Sitting room. Bedroom. Bathroom. Even the man inside is innocuous - thin face, short dark hair, with his jacket dropping off his shoulders and the two sides of his undone tie hanging in uneven strips down his crumpled shirt. He looks nothing more than your average businessman, home from a hard day's work. No, what makes this apartment and this man different from all the others in the building is the long, ornate couch covered in decadent crimson cushions he is spread out on and the two bronze-skinned, scantily clan women with intricate black designs drawn about their eyes attending to him. One holds a bunch of grapes in her hands that she feeds the man one at a time, while the other fans him with a large palm leaf. Considering the significance of that particular plant, Castiel is inclined to find this the most irreverent aspect of scene.
But he says nothing, just stares, mouth a hard line. The door was open when he arrived so Gabriel must know he's there, was probably expecting him. In fact, from the ease in which he found him Castiel even suspects his brother might have been hoping for him, but then perhaps that's - what had Dean called it? - 'wishful thinking.' In his entire existence, Castiel has never wished for anything. He wishes for too much these days.
"Don't just stand there, brother. Come on in, join the party!" Gabriel grins without looking up, mouth opening to accept another grape from the smiling woman, who leans over obligingly, breasts almost bursting from their restraints with the effort.
He is so at ease with his chosen persona it's impossible to tell where the angel ends and the Trickster begins and it shocks Castiel to the core that what was once such perfect nobility should be reduced to this.
So he says nothing.
After a moment Gabriel sighs, fast and heavy - a sound Castiel thinks more fitting for Dean than an archangel - and sits up. With a click of his fingers the girls are gone and Gabriel is staring back at Castiel with a scowl, body curled forward, arms on his knees. One side of his dangling tie brushes his knuckles as he readies to speak.
"What?" he demands. "If you're here for an apology you're out of luck, kid."
"Not an apology," Castiel answers. "An explanation."
Gabriel rolls his eyes and leans back, hands carding behind his head.
"I already gave one to your new BFFs. Didn't they fill you in?"
Castiel shakes his head. He'd been too tired to push this before, in the warehouse. Weary and sickened by the trials - the meaningless illusions - Gabriel had put him through. But as time past he'd been sure if he could just speak to him again, angel to angel, he'd uncover some truth, some reason, for the archangel's actions. It's with a gaping sense of despair, a black pit that threatens to swallow him whole right where he stands, that he realises he is wrong.
"How could you do it, Gabriel? We needed you."
Gabriel shrugs and closes his eyes, feigning indifference, although Castiel can tell he is still paying avid attention. Enjoying his brother's anguish.
"Heaven mourned your absence," Castiel adds, voice thick with reproach.
The archangel just scoffs.
"Like we mourned Lucifer?" he mutters, lifting his legs so he can cross them neatly over a materialising coffee table, simultaneously pressing further into the cushions, as though preparing to sleep. "I'm sure you got over it."
Castiel opens his mouth to reply, but the words don't come, Gabriel's cool dismissal has stolen them and he is left with absolutely nothing to say.
Staying is pointless and he knows he should leave. There is no new information to find here, nothing that will help him, or the Winchesters. But he stays anyway.
"Want do you want, Castiel?" Gabriel hums after a moment, the words a lazy drawl.
Castiel opens his mouth again.
Hesitates.
"I don't know," he admits.
Gabriel opens one eye and fixes him with it for several seconds. Then his lips curve - knowing and mocking at the same time. Castiel nearly gasps to find the other angel beside him after that, so close they are almost cheek-to-cheek.
"How bout I show you?" Gabriel smiles into the smaller angel's ear.
"What?" Castiel breathes, not panicking, exactly, but certainly uncomfortable. The last time he was this close to an archangel... well... it's not something he likes to remember.
"What you want," Gabriel explains. Or rather, doesn't.
"I don't understand..." Castiel starts, trying to step back. But the archangel reaches a hand to his arm and holds him fast.
"You will," he insists, his other hand slipping beneath Castiel's trenchcoat and trailing down.
Castiel struggles now, seeing where this is going.
"No," he says, although not as firmly as he intends. Something has made his voice weak and small. "I don't want... I don't want that."
"Shush," Gabriel presses. His voice is softer, but that does nothing to calm Castiel as his brother brings nimble fingers to the button of his pants. "Weren't you telling me just now you didn't know what you wanted? You're gonna want this soon enough, trust me."
"Gabriel..." Castiel pleads. "I don't..."
Gabriel pauses and for one grateful second Castiel truly believes he will let him go. Then the other angel shrugs and mutters "oh well," and Castiel is flat on his back, Gabriel kneeing over him.
Castiel isn't surprised that he didn't notice the move, or that a circular bed with smooth silken sheets and satin pillows has materialised around them out of nowhere. Archangel powers are vast-it's not for nothing they are Heaven's most powerful weapon. But he is, finally, scared. He doesn't even try to fly away because he knows he won't be able to. He can't fight this. Can't escape. And he begins to fear that years as a pagan god may have driven Gabriel insane. Who knows what he has planned? Or if plans are something he even has at all anymore...
His anxiety must show because Gabriel stops after unzipping him and sighs again, impatient, like before.
"Stop looking like a rabbit in headlights would ya?" he snaps, before slowly resting his free hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Forget all that other stuff, okay? I was playing with the boys and you got in the way. Although, honestly, if you hadn't kept trying to escape you'd have been perfectly fine. Point is, I'm not gonna hurt you now, Cas."
Castiel stares back at him, eyes wide. He is far from convinced by the claim, but Gabriel keeps still above him, waiting, and this makes Castiel think he may be able to talk him round after all.
"This isn't right," he breathes.
Gabriel chuckles.
"Because we're family?" he mocks, leaning forward so the tip of his nose dips slightly below the other's, just shy of touching. "Daddy's laws don't apply to us, little brother. Especially not as far from Heaven as we've fallen."
Castiel feels his face crease up, which is in itself a frighteningly physical, frighteningly human, reaction to his emotions, but Gabriel pays it no mind, just rubs the ball of his hand hard along Castiel's length.
Castiel hisses, but Gabriel doesn't stop. He rubs again. And again. Castiel looks away to some indeterminate point on the ceiling, hoping to distance his mind, at least, from what is happening.
As if sensing this, Gabriel distracts him by talking.
"Stop fighting," he says, and the words are surprisingly soft. "Give it a chance and you'll like it, I promise."
The pressure on him lessens after that. It doesn't stop, Castiel has no doubt now that Gabriel will not stop until he's seen this through, but it becomes smoother, and slower and... well, Gabriel is right. It doesn't hurt.
After a while Castiel realises his breathing has slowed to match the rhythm, and the tension he'd gathered when the archangel first approached him has all but faded away.
"See?"
Castiel switches to Gabriel's smile and finds the archangel's eyes sparkling blue and silver grey. Mischief-no Trickster would be complete without it-but something else too, something old-ancient-and deep and wise. Not manic, but serene. Knowledgeable.
It's a look Castiel recognises. One from his early days when time was young and the universe fresh and bright. Not that he and Gabriel were ever close. Foot soldiers and archangels have always moved in very different, and quite literal, circles. But there'd be glances in passing. Grace and essence brushing in song. Michael had always intimidated and Raphael ignored him, but Gabriel had been… encouraging. Warm. And always ready to fill those moments with a touch of reassurance. It's an echo of that Castiel finds in him now, a shadow at best, but it's enough. Enough for him to give up his fear and let his older brother guide him through the rest; a strange, half-familiar longing coursing through him as he arches into the touch. Could it be he's been seeking this all along? Wanting unawares, when he didn't even know the meaning of desire?
It seems right that Gabriel should be the one to teach him. Despite extensive searching, Castiel has yet to find god. Perhaps his messenger will have some answers instead.
"I'm gonna try something else now," Gabriel starts, sliding his other hand further round Castiel's shoulder and raising his eyebrows-a warning, but for Castiel's benefit, nothing else. "Don't. Panic."
The hand rubbing him stops for moment, then slips inside Castiel's pants and pulls him out, gripping his cock tight.
"Oh," Castiel says, head pressing back against the pillows below, eyes turning unfocused and moving away.
"Oh..." he says again as Gabriel's hand starts to move, sliding rhythmically up and down. Up and down. Up. And down.
"You should probably close your eyes for this. It'll make it a lot easier."
Castiel does. Plunging himself into sinful blackness that is soon full of shocking, heavenly sensation. Although he is sure heat such as this must be less than a step away from hellfire-the power flooding his veins nothing short of demonic.
Yet, he is too full of it to care.
Maybe it is forbidden but it's incredible. It's delicious.
A sound - half whimper, half moan - escapes his lips and he can feel Gabriel's approval seeping into him. Their weakened and tarnished grace merging together in one, glorious, whole.
"Yes," Gabriel breathes, and Castiel imagines for a moment that the archangel is as lost as he is. The thought sets new flames burning through his body. "Do you feel it... Castiel? Filling you? Like there's nothing else?"
"I..." Castiel tries, but the feeling is growing. Building, taller than Babel. And taking him with it. Higher and faster and higher and higher than his wings ever have. "I feel..."
Gabriel leans closer. Finally lets their cheeks touch-warm and comforting and familiar, oh so familiar, after everything Castiel has faced these last few months.
"Let it come, brother," he whispers in the shell of Castiel's ear. So so soft. Milk and honey a hundred times over.
And wherever Gabriel is taking him, Castiel knows instinctively he's almost there. He has been taken up and up and up, right to the very edge, and he holds there on the precipice. So long it's almost unbearable. Don't leave me here, he thinks. He begs. Please. Please don't leave me here...
"Who is it, Castiel?" Gabriel asks suddenly, voice urgent. "Who do you wish was touching you? Who do you want breathing on your skin?" Castiel doesn't have time to think, to process the questions, they come on him too fast. "It's not me," Gabriel continues. "So tell me. Who is it? Who is this for?"
All at once the hand around him is rougher, calloused, and the voice burning into him is deeper. Like ancient parchment-it's divinity flaking away at the edges. There are colours too, to scare away the black - bright, amazing colours. Accept... after a while Castiel realises they are all shades of the same. They are all green. As the fruit of Eden. As a pair of eyes. Pleading with him from out of the blood and the flame...
And that's it. He's back at the edge and he's flying, falling, tipping, spilling over, screaming without even knowing, only aware of the sound as it reaches his ears.
"Duh... dean! Dean!"
When it's over he's spent and exhausted and Gabriel's intentions are all too clear. He expects to be discarded then. Dropped cold and hard from his pleasure like a stone. So he's surprised to find himself laid tenderly down, his brother's hands gentle as they guide him through the lingering spasms. It's only when he's calm again, breath harsh but slowing, that they leave him.
It's not until he's sure he's fully recovered that he opens his eyes and pushes himself up, expensive pillows and silk turned to the simple nylon of a grimy, off-white sofa beneath his palms. There's an unpleasant wetness coating his lower body and he looks down to find Gabriel has left him in his finished state-cock small and limp against his stomach and surrounded by a pool of viscous, white liquid. His shirt is partly pulled up, making Castiel think he must have been thrashing at some point during his physical-base, bodily-ecstasy, so most of the liquid has collected on his skin, but some of it has touched the hem of the fabric as well, and the tip of his own, still knotted, tie. It's all so corporeal, so human, that tendrils of shame curl about Castiel's cheeks at the sight.
"Get the message, brother?"
Castiel starts and glances up.
Gabriel is leaning against the, now thankfully closed, doorway, arms folded across his chest. He eyes Castiel up and down and while the younger angel's shame burns hotter at the look, he thinks it seems too soft to be disapproval. Castiel wonders if it might be pity, but doesn't feel inclined to stay long enough to find out. He closes his eyes and summons up the meagre drops of power he has left. It comes sluggishly, but he is getting used to that.
When he appears before the archangel he is fresh and clean again once more. On the outside, at least.
"I understand," he says.
And he does. Gabriel has shown him exactly what he promised. He has shown Castiel what he wants. But more than that, he has shown Castiel what that means.
In a way, he supposes this is what Gabriel has been doing all along. Incapable, even in his Trickster form, of denying his true purpose. What are 'just desserts,' after all, but expressions of truth? Interpreting inner desires and warning against where they might lead.
Castiel nods softly.
"Thank you."
He reaches for the door handle, but Gabriel stops him with a hand on his wrist.
"Whoa. Wait, wait, just a second. I show you your biggest weakness and you're going back? To him?"
Castiel frowns.
"Where else would I go?"
Gabriel laughs, incredulous, and releases Castiel's hand in order to wave his own. Castiel tilts his head, wondering how one who deals in illumination could possibly be surprised like this.
"Anywhere!" Gabriel exclaims. "Go make your peace with the rest of the Cabal, maybe. Hook up with Lucy." Neither of these options seem appealing, so Castiel reaches again for the door. Gabriel sidesteps quickly in front of him, this time using his whole body to block the way. "Or you could stay here," he adds in a rush. "With me."
Castiel looks to him then, really looks, without any shock or pain or fury to blind him, and he sees, for the first time, the cracks in his brother's façade. The lines about his eyes he has failed to smooth away. The dropping down of one side of his smile. The dull, heavy glare of his grace behind the illusory lights and colours he has been conjuring to hide it. He looks, and thinks that what they've shared tonight is more than the delivery of a message. More than a one-sided revelation. Much more. He only wonders if Gabriel knew this all along, or, like him, discovered it only at the end.
"I guarantee you there'll be something you like," the archangel presses, fingers rising to his ear and clicking.
He nods over Castiel's shoulder, not-as-manic-as-it-appears grin back in place, and Castiel turns. Behind him the two mock-Roman slave girls have reappeared, only now there is a third. She is smaller than the others and holds neither a palm leaf nor grapes but clasps her hands demurely in front of herself. She glances at Castiel beneath her lashes, gives a shy smile and looks down.
Castiel turns back, his own lips similarly curved. He is surprised to find he is almost tempted.
Almost.
"You're right," he concurs. "But it isn't what I want." For a brief, brief second Gabriel looks devastated. Rejected and alone. But then the Trickster returns in his place and gives a mocking smile. "I think perhaps... it isn't what you want, either." There's a flicker in the archangel's eyes. Castiel stares into them for a long, long time, but it doesn't return. "Goodbye, Gabriel..."
"He'll take it, you know," Gabriel says before Castiel has finished spreading his wings. "The power, the glory, the wings. Everything that makes you an angel."
Castiel looks over him then, eyes as soft as Gabriel's on him before.
"From what I have come to understand about being an angel," he starts. "That may not be a bad thing."
Gabriel is silent as Castiel propels himself away, back to Dean Winchester. A little wiser, if not better equipped, than before. Although, he seems to hear, trailing behind him like an errant butterfly, a quiet 'good luck, little brother' whispered to the wind - a message he receives gladly, as it makes him wonder if there might not be hope for the future yet.
~ fin ~
Author: littlehollyleaf
Pairing(s): Castiel/Gabriel, Castiel/Dean (implied)
Spoilers: up to and including 5.08
Category: angst, oh the angst!
Rating: NC-17
Warning: dubcon
Word count: 3,066
Summary: 5.08 coda. Castiel confronts Gabriel after the events of Changing Channels (yes, it's one of those :p) and they... discover things about each other ;) Title taken from Daniel 8:16, "And I heard a man's voice between the banks of Ulai, which called and said, Gabriel, make this one understand the vision."
Make this one understand
Castiel stops in the doorway and waits, arms still at his sides, trenchcoat flapping about his knees. But despite the piercing stare, the room's occupant ignores him completely.
The place itself is unremarkable. A simple, third storey apartment. Sitting room. Bedroom. Bathroom. Even the man inside is innocuous - thin face, short dark hair, with his jacket dropping off his shoulders and the two sides of his undone tie hanging in uneven strips down his crumpled shirt. He looks nothing more than your average businessman, home from a hard day's work. No, what makes this apartment and this man different from all the others in the building is the long, ornate couch covered in decadent crimson cushions he is spread out on and the two bronze-skinned, scantily clan women with intricate black designs drawn about their eyes attending to him. One holds a bunch of grapes in her hands that she feeds the man one at a time, while the other fans him with a large palm leaf. Considering the significance of that particular plant, Castiel is inclined to find this the most irreverent aspect of scene.
But he says nothing, just stares, mouth a hard line. The door was open when he arrived so Gabriel must know he's there, was probably expecting him. In fact, from the ease in which he found him Castiel even suspects his brother might have been hoping for him, but then perhaps that's - what had Dean called it? - 'wishful thinking.' In his entire existence, Castiel has never wished for anything. He wishes for too much these days.
"Don't just stand there, brother. Come on in, join the party!" Gabriel grins without looking up, mouth opening to accept another grape from the smiling woman, who leans over obligingly, breasts almost bursting from their restraints with the effort.
He is so at ease with his chosen persona it's impossible to tell where the angel ends and the Trickster begins and it shocks Castiel to the core that what was once such perfect nobility should be reduced to this.
So he says nothing.
After a moment Gabriel sighs, fast and heavy - a sound Castiel thinks more fitting for Dean than an archangel - and sits up. With a click of his fingers the girls are gone and Gabriel is staring back at Castiel with a scowl, body curled forward, arms on his knees. One side of his dangling tie brushes his knuckles as he readies to speak.
"What?" he demands. "If you're here for an apology you're out of luck, kid."
"Not an apology," Castiel answers. "An explanation."
Gabriel rolls his eyes and leans back, hands carding behind his head.
"I already gave one to your new BFFs. Didn't they fill you in?"
Castiel shakes his head. He'd been too tired to push this before, in the warehouse. Weary and sickened by the trials - the meaningless illusions - Gabriel had put him through. But as time past he'd been sure if he could just speak to him again, angel to angel, he'd uncover some truth, some reason, for the archangel's actions. It's with a gaping sense of despair, a black pit that threatens to swallow him whole right where he stands, that he realises he is wrong.
"How could you do it, Gabriel? We needed you."
Gabriel shrugs and closes his eyes, feigning indifference, although Castiel can tell he is still paying avid attention. Enjoying his brother's anguish.
"Heaven mourned your absence," Castiel adds, voice thick with reproach.
The archangel just scoffs.
"Like we mourned Lucifer?" he mutters, lifting his legs so he can cross them neatly over a materialising coffee table, simultaneously pressing further into the cushions, as though preparing to sleep. "I'm sure you got over it."
Castiel opens his mouth to reply, but the words don't come, Gabriel's cool dismissal has stolen them and he is left with absolutely nothing to say.
Staying is pointless and he knows he should leave. There is no new information to find here, nothing that will help him, or the Winchesters. But he stays anyway.
"Want do you want, Castiel?" Gabriel hums after a moment, the words a lazy drawl.
Castiel opens his mouth again.
Hesitates.
"I don't know," he admits.
Gabriel opens one eye and fixes him with it for several seconds. Then his lips curve - knowing and mocking at the same time. Castiel nearly gasps to find the other angel beside him after that, so close they are almost cheek-to-cheek.
"How bout I show you?" Gabriel smiles into the smaller angel's ear.
"What?" Castiel breathes, not panicking, exactly, but certainly uncomfortable. The last time he was this close to an archangel... well... it's not something he likes to remember.
"What you want," Gabriel explains. Or rather, doesn't.
"I don't understand..." Castiel starts, trying to step back. But the archangel reaches a hand to his arm and holds him fast.
"You will," he insists, his other hand slipping beneath Castiel's trenchcoat and trailing down.
Castiel struggles now, seeing where this is going.
"No," he says, although not as firmly as he intends. Something has made his voice weak and small. "I don't want... I don't want that."
"Shush," Gabriel presses. His voice is softer, but that does nothing to calm Castiel as his brother brings nimble fingers to the button of his pants. "Weren't you telling me just now you didn't know what you wanted? You're gonna want this soon enough, trust me."
"Gabriel..." Castiel pleads. "I don't..."
Gabriel pauses and for one grateful second Castiel truly believes he will let him go. Then the other angel shrugs and mutters "oh well," and Castiel is flat on his back, Gabriel kneeing over him.
Castiel isn't surprised that he didn't notice the move, or that a circular bed with smooth silken sheets and satin pillows has materialised around them out of nowhere. Archangel powers are vast-it's not for nothing they are Heaven's most powerful weapon. But he is, finally, scared. He doesn't even try to fly away because he knows he won't be able to. He can't fight this. Can't escape. And he begins to fear that years as a pagan god may have driven Gabriel insane. Who knows what he has planned? Or if plans are something he even has at all anymore...
His anxiety must show because Gabriel stops after unzipping him and sighs again, impatient, like before.
"Stop looking like a rabbit in headlights would ya?" he snaps, before slowly resting his free hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Forget all that other stuff, okay? I was playing with the boys and you got in the way. Although, honestly, if you hadn't kept trying to escape you'd have been perfectly fine. Point is, I'm not gonna hurt you now, Cas."
Castiel stares back at him, eyes wide. He is far from convinced by the claim, but Gabriel keeps still above him, waiting, and this makes Castiel think he may be able to talk him round after all.
"This isn't right," he breathes.
Gabriel chuckles.
"Because we're family?" he mocks, leaning forward so the tip of his nose dips slightly below the other's, just shy of touching. "Daddy's laws don't apply to us, little brother. Especially not as far from Heaven as we've fallen."
Castiel feels his face crease up, which is in itself a frighteningly physical, frighteningly human, reaction to his emotions, but Gabriel pays it no mind, just rubs the ball of his hand hard along Castiel's length.
Castiel hisses, but Gabriel doesn't stop. He rubs again. And again. Castiel looks away to some indeterminate point on the ceiling, hoping to distance his mind, at least, from what is happening.
As if sensing this, Gabriel distracts him by talking.
"Stop fighting," he says, and the words are surprisingly soft. "Give it a chance and you'll like it, I promise."
The pressure on him lessens after that. It doesn't stop, Castiel has no doubt now that Gabriel will not stop until he's seen this through, but it becomes smoother, and slower and... well, Gabriel is right. It doesn't hurt.
After a while Castiel realises his breathing has slowed to match the rhythm, and the tension he'd gathered when the archangel first approached him has all but faded away.
"See?"
Castiel switches to Gabriel's smile and finds the archangel's eyes sparkling blue and silver grey. Mischief-no Trickster would be complete without it-but something else too, something old-ancient-and deep and wise. Not manic, but serene. Knowledgeable.
It's a look Castiel recognises. One from his early days when time was young and the universe fresh and bright. Not that he and Gabriel were ever close. Foot soldiers and archangels have always moved in very different, and quite literal, circles. But there'd be glances in passing. Grace and essence brushing in song. Michael had always intimidated and Raphael ignored him, but Gabriel had been… encouraging. Warm. And always ready to fill those moments with a touch of reassurance. It's an echo of that Castiel finds in him now, a shadow at best, but it's enough. Enough for him to give up his fear and let his older brother guide him through the rest; a strange, half-familiar longing coursing through him as he arches into the touch. Could it be he's been seeking this all along? Wanting unawares, when he didn't even know the meaning of desire?
It seems right that Gabriel should be the one to teach him. Despite extensive searching, Castiel has yet to find god. Perhaps his messenger will have some answers instead.
"I'm gonna try something else now," Gabriel starts, sliding his other hand further round Castiel's shoulder and raising his eyebrows-a warning, but for Castiel's benefit, nothing else. "Don't. Panic."
The hand rubbing him stops for moment, then slips inside Castiel's pants and pulls him out, gripping his cock tight.
"Oh," Castiel says, head pressing back against the pillows below, eyes turning unfocused and moving away.
"Oh..." he says again as Gabriel's hand starts to move, sliding rhythmically up and down. Up and down. Up. And down.
"You should probably close your eyes for this. It'll make it a lot easier."
Castiel does. Plunging himself into sinful blackness that is soon full of shocking, heavenly sensation. Although he is sure heat such as this must be less than a step away from hellfire-the power flooding his veins nothing short of demonic.
Yet, he is too full of it to care.
Maybe it is forbidden but it's incredible. It's delicious.
A sound - half whimper, half moan - escapes his lips and he can feel Gabriel's approval seeping into him. Their weakened and tarnished grace merging together in one, glorious, whole.
"Yes," Gabriel breathes, and Castiel imagines for a moment that the archangel is as lost as he is. The thought sets new flames burning through his body. "Do you feel it... Castiel? Filling you? Like there's nothing else?"
"I..." Castiel tries, but the feeling is growing. Building, taller than Babel. And taking him with it. Higher and faster and higher and higher than his wings ever have. "I feel..."
Gabriel leans closer. Finally lets their cheeks touch-warm and comforting and familiar, oh so familiar, after everything Castiel has faced these last few months.
"Let it come, brother," he whispers in the shell of Castiel's ear. So so soft. Milk and honey a hundred times over.
And wherever Gabriel is taking him, Castiel knows instinctively he's almost there. He has been taken up and up and up, right to the very edge, and he holds there on the precipice. So long it's almost unbearable. Don't leave me here, he thinks. He begs. Please. Please don't leave me here...
"Who is it, Castiel?" Gabriel asks suddenly, voice urgent. "Who do you wish was touching you? Who do you want breathing on your skin?" Castiel doesn't have time to think, to process the questions, they come on him too fast. "It's not me," Gabriel continues. "So tell me. Who is it? Who is this for?"
All at once the hand around him is rougher, calloused, and the voice burning into him is deeper. Like ancient parchment-it's divinity flaking away at the edges. There are colours too, to scare away the black - bright, amazing colours. Accept... after a while Castiel realises they are all shades of the same. They are all green. As the fruit of Eden. As a pair of eyes. Pleading with him from out of the blood and the flame...
And that's it. He's back at the edge and he's flying, falling, tipping, spilling over, screaming without even knowing, only aware of the sound as it reaches his ears.
"Duh... dean! Dean!"
When it's over he's spent and exhausted and Gabriel's intentions are all too clear. He expects to be discarded then. Dropped cold and hard from his pleasure like a stone. So he's surprised to find himself laid tenderly down, his brother's hands gentle as they guide him through the lingering spasms. It's only when he's calm again, breath harsh but slowing, that they leave him.
It's not until he's sure he's fully recovered that he opens his eyes and pushes himself up, expensive pillows and silk turned to the simple nylon of a grimy, off-white sofa beneath his palms. There's an unpleasant wetness coating his lower body and he looks down to find Gabriel has left him in his finished state-cock small and limp against his stomach and surrounded by a pool of viscous, white liquid. His shirt is partly pulled up, making Castiel think he must have been thrashing at some point during his physical-base, bodily-ecstasy, so most of the liquid has collected on his skin, but some of it has touched the hem of the fabric as well, and the tip of his own, still knotted, tie. It's all so corporeal, so human, that tendrils of shame curl about Castiel's cheeks at the sight.
"Get the message, brother?"
Castiel starts and glances up.
Gabriel is leaning against the, now thankfully closed, doorway, arms folded across his chest. He eyes Castiel up and down and while the younger angel's shame burns hotter at the look, he thinks it seems too soft to be disapproval. Castiel wonders if it might be pity, but doesn't feel inclined to stay long enough to find out. He closes his eyes and summons up the meagre drops of power he has left. It comes sluggishly, but he is getting used to that.
When he appears before the archangel he is fresh and clean again once more. On the outside, at least.
"I understand," he says.
And he does. Gabriel has shown him exactly what he promised. He has shown Castiel what he wants. But more than that, he has shown Castiel what that means.
In a way, he supposes this is what Gabriel has been doing all along. Incapable, even in his Trickster form, of denying his true purpose. What are 'just desserts,' after all, but expressions of truth? Interpreting inner desires and warning against where they might lead.
Castiel nods softly.
"Thank you."
He reaches for the door handle, but Gabriel stops him with a hand on his wrist.
"Whoa. Wait, wait, just a second. I show you your biggest weakness and you're going back? To him?"
Castiel frowns.
"Where else would I go?"
Gabriel laughs, incredulous, and releases Castiel's hand in order to wave his own. Castiel tilts his head, wondering how one who deals in illumination could possibly be surprised like this.
"Anywhere!" Gabriel exclaims. "Go make your peace with the rest of the Cabal, maybe. Hook up with Lucy." Neither of these options seem appealing, so Castiel reaches again for the door. Gabriel sidesteps quickly in front of him, this time using his whole body to block the way. "Or you could stay here," he adds in a rush. "With me."
Castiel looks to him then, really looks, without any shock or pain or fury to blind him, and he sees, for the first time, the cracks in his brother's façade. The lines about his eyes he has failed to smooth away. The dropping down of one side of his smile. The dull, heavy glare of his grace behind the illusory lights and colours he has been conjuring to hide it. He looks, and thinks that what they've shared tonight is more than the delivery of a message. More than a one-sided revelation. Much more. He only wonders if Gabriel knew this all along, or, like him, discovered it only at the end.
"I guarantee you there'll be something you like," the archangel presses, fingers rising to his ear and clicking.
He nods over Castiel's shoulder, not-as-manic-as-it-appears grin back in place, and Castiel turns. Behind him the two mock-Roman slave girls have reappeared, only now there is a third. She is smaller than the others and holds neither a palm leaf nor grapes but clasps her hands demurely in front of herself. She glances at Castiel beneath her lashes, gives a shy smile and looks down.
Castiel turns back, his own lips similarly curved. He is surprised to find he is almost tempted.
Almost.
"You're right," he concurs. "But it isn't what I want." For a brief, brief second Gabriel looks devastated. Rejected and alone. But then the Trickster returns in his place and gives a mocking smile. "I think perhaps... it isn't what you want, either." There's a flicker in the archangel's eyes. Castiel stares into them for a long, long time, but it doesn't return. "Goodbye, Gabriel..."
"He'll take it, you know," Gabriel says before Castiel has finished spreading his wings. "The power, the glory, the wings. Everything that makes you an angel."
Castiel looks over him then, eyes as soft as Gabriel's on him before.
"From what I have come to understand about being an angel," he starts. "That may not be a bad thing."
Gabriel is silent as Castiel propels himself away, back to Dean Winchester. A little wiser, if not better equipped, than before. Although, he seems to hear, trailing behind him like an errant butterfly, a quiet 'good luck, little brother' whispered to the wind - a message he receives gladly, as it makes him wonder if there might not be hope for the future yet.
~ fin ~