Third Time Lucky - Putting it all together
Dean has spent the whole drive up to Bobby's house trying not to think about the two items tucked underneath a couple of dirty t-shirts and hidden in his bag. Even Sam finally got the hint and drifted off to sleep, head at an awkward angle against the window.
Dean had found another couple of feathers that morning as well. Another long one in the back of the Impala, wedged down under the passenger side front seat. Then there were two in his bag when he got dressed that morning. Dean has collected them all and pushed them into the side pocket of his coat.
He thinks about stopping for the night again at a motel, wanting to see if Gabriel turns up, but he can't think of a good enough excuse, especially so close to their destination. He pulls up at the Salvage Yard just as the sun is setting, Sam stretching awkwardly in the close confines of the car.
“Get out before you injure me with those freak arms of yours.” Dean pushes at Sam, grinning, happy that his brother has managed to sleep for a while. Sam drags himself out of the car, pushing his arms towards the darkening sky until his spine pops alarmingly. He grins, wide and dimpled, and sighs.
“Thanks Dean, but really, I woulda driven for a while.”
“Nah, we're good. You can do the beer run though. And get pie too. Bobby never thinks to get pie.”
“We ain't got time for pie, idgits.” The rough grumble comes from the house and the two boys lope over to greet Bobby.
“Aw, Bobby. There's always time for pie.” Dean grins and tries his version of his brother's puppy eyes. Bobby just rolls his eyes.
“Get your asses inside so we can talk about this Pestilence problem.”
The planning goes quickly and for once nearly everything goes according to the plan. They halt the shipment and Castiel rocks up and saves the day, taking Pestilence's ring and stopping the boys from dying a painful and disgusting, snotty death.
Dean still aches somewhat and when they find a motel, he doesn't have the strength to argue over rooms. Castiel and Sam end up in the only double for some reason and he and Bobby end up in two singles. He digs into his bag for a clean T-shirt and the bowl and box come tumbling out with it.
He sets them both on the table and it seems right somehow to pull the feathers from his pocket and tip them into the bowl. He thinks about doing some research on the matter, but a jaw-cracking yawn shorts out his thought processes and he falls onto the bed, barely able to slip the covers up over himself.
He can feel the wind brushing against his arms. Sand is under his face instead of the rather rough cotton of a motel pillow. Dean pushes up with his arms, muscles bunching under the short sleeves of his shirt. He holds the press-up briefly, looking around, before he eases back onto his heels, kneeling on the ground.
There's sand in the scruff of his beard, and yeah he really needs to shave. Dean brushes at his face and wipes his hands against his jeans. The sun is high over head, but there is little heat in the air. A breeze blows but it is neither cooling nor that hot, dry wind that pulls the moisture from lips and leaves them cracked and sore.
Dean curls his feet beneath himself and rises to his feet. He turns around, circling clockwise. He had been looking along the length of a path when he woke; ochre and tan dirt, small scrubby bits of vegetation. To his right the landscape opens up. Even though Dean has never actually made it here, he knows the wide gash that splits the earth. He thinks that everyone does.
A soft breath punches out of him as he keeps turning, taking in the magnificent view. He drags himself away from the Canyon and looks behind himself. The motel table sits, out of place, on the road behind him. A wobbly looking chair is next to it, tilted back on two legs to allow Gabriel to rest his feet on the table.
The box and bowl sit on the table next to Gabriel's feet.
Gabriel lifts up his hands and shows off a small whiteboard, pen attached with a bright red piece of thread. Dean steps closer to the table in order to read the almost illegible text.
'Dean-o, thought you were never coming.'
“Well, we have been kinda busy lately Gabriel. You know, the whole apocalypse thing!”
Gabriel grins and waves his hand dismissively, wiping at the board before he scrawls again. 'Tell baby bro he did a good job.' He flips it to Dean who nods and he turns it back to himself and begins writing again.
“Yeah, the guy just keeps doing his job. Not like some people I could mention. I mean, the canyon man? Not really time for a vacation you know.”
Gabriel frowns and yanks up his t-shirt. The dark wound on his chest has grown, the tendrils spreading out from it are thicker and now travel down beneath the waistband of his jeans, disappearing up under the edges of his pulled up clothing.
“Okay, I'm sorry. I know you did your best, but what am I doing here? Why do I keep dreaming about you?” Dean wishes that Gabriel had managed to bring two chairs, he really could do with a seat for this. Just as he thinks this, another chair; the matching companion to the one Gabriel is hunched on, appears at the side of the table.
“Hells yeah. I forgot that it's my dream.” Dean drops on to the seat and thinks about having a drink. A tall glass appears in front of him, condensation beading on the surface, shimmering against the rich, golden liquid inside. Dean lifts the glass and takes a long drink, foam covering his upper lip until a pink tongue sneaks out to lick it away.
Gabriel swallows hard and raises an enquiring eyebrow.
“You want one too? Hmmm, now what would the Archangel Gabriel drink?” Dean thinks for a long moment and then a Martini glass appears in front of Gabriel, filled with a jade green liquid. An umbrella is speared into the red flesh of a cherry which sits at the bottom of the glass.
Gabriel pulls out the umbrella and wraps his tongue around the red fruit, licking at the liquor that coats it's skin. Dean flushes as Gabriel slides the cherry slowly into his mouth, baring sharp white teeth for a moment before he envelops it completely, sucking it off the cocktail stick with a lewd pop.
Gabriel takes a sip of his Apple-tini. It really is quite good and he smiles happily, dimple popping out at Dean's increasing flush. Dean looks away and rubs at his hair before he drops his gaze to the table. The bowl full of feathers and the box remind him to find out exactly why they are here.
“Right, yeah. So what the hell is with this box and all the feathers I keep finding everywhere? I mean, they're in the Impala, in my bag - and now in my dream.”
'They're mine,' Gabriel scrawls. 'Part of my missing Grace.'
“So, why don't you just take them back, mojo yourself back together and come help us with the other two dicks.”
'Hey not all archangels are dicks!' Gabriel draws a cross face beside his statement.
“Let's see, Lucifer - dick by your own admission. Michael - dick that possessed my Dad and has the hots for my meatsuit. Raphael - yeah, dick as well. You're trying to tell me you're the exception? You killed me, multiple times!”
'Not you - a copy of you. It was...' Gabriel's pen hovers above the board, his brows furrowed. He scrubs the last two words out.
“No, I want to know. It was what? Amusing, annoying, something you were ordered to do?”
Gabriel shakes his head, looking pained and embarrassed.
Dean throws his hands up in gives a disgusted sigh. “Whatever. Beside the point. Suck up your mojo and come help us.”
'It's a bit more complicated than that, Dean.'
Dean picks up the box and thrusts it at Gabriel. “Here, Grace meet Gabriel. Now get it together. How hard can it be?” Dean thinks about his life and what he just said, looks at Gabriel's expressive face and sighs.
“Okay, what do we need? I take it there is some kind of ritual. Probably pointlessly long and in foreignese or Latin or some other dead language.”
Gabriel starts writing again, lines and lines of text filling the small board.
“Can't we at least get you your voice back? That would probably make things easier. Although, I gotta say, you're much cuter when you can't talk.”
Gabriel scowls at Dean and then drops the whiteboard to the table with a clatter. Suddenly he's round Dean's side of the table, sliding a leg over Dean's thighs and settling onto his lap. Dean opens his mouth to ask “What the fu...” and then Gabriel's mouth is slanting over his.
Dean freezes. Out of all the things that could have happened, he probably never would've put money on this. But, it's not bad. Actually it's rather nice. Gabriel's mouth is warm against his, his lips soft as they slide gently against Dean's fuller ones. Dean's tongue slips out and he swipes it tentatively over Gabriel's lower lip, pulling his tongue back in to savour the slightly sweet taste of Gabriel.
Gabriel's tongue follows his, slipping slickly against the soft curve of lip, the sharp edges of teeth. Gabriel's hand slips around the back of his skull and Dean leans into the tilt, altering the angle of the kiss.
He can smell Gabriel, ozone and cotton candy. He tastes of spun sugar and cinnamon apple pie. Dean is surprised to find his hands curling around Gabriel's waist, shifting him higher over Dean's thighs so that Dean can delve deeper into that wet slickness, chasing Gabriel's tongue, twining his own against the heated muscle.
He moans into Gabriel's mouth as blood flows away from his brain, pooling in his stomach and other, lower, places. Gabriel eases back, placing softer, chaster kisses against the corners of Dean's mouth, the slick, swollen bow of his upper lip, a quick bite to the lower one.
“Mmmmm, we should definitely do that again. And soon.” Gabriel's voice is low, scratchy with disuse, dark with arousal. Dean tries to jerk backwards but is constrained by the chair so he pushes at Gabriel, sending the smaller man sprawling in the dirt at his feet.
“What the fuck? You don't just - you can't - just... It's not going to happen again. It shouldn't have happened that time.” Dean rubs the back of his hand over his mouth before he leaps up out of his chair, pacing away from the table to the edge of the road and back again.
But, okay, you got your voice back. So tell me what you need - and don't even go there or I swear I'll beat you so hard.”
Gabriel flushes and turns away from Dean quickly, busying himself with the objects on the table. If Dean didn't know better he would have sworn that the angel had looked crushed. But, no way. Gabriel was just out to get his Grace back, whatever strange way he could.
Gabriel coughs lightly and Dean turns back to the table.
“I haven't got much time. Since you're dreaming the transfer only works for the duration of the dream. When you wake up you have to crush the feathers in the bowl, use a granite stone if you can. Then you need to add the contents of the box.”
Gabriel quickly spelt out the rest of the ritual. It worked somewhat like a summoning spell but hopefully when Dean summoned Gabriel it would fuse Gabriel and his Grace back together.
“So if this works, you're gonna help us out with the rest of this apocalypse shit?” Gabriel nods and goes to step closer to Dean who backs off, raising his hands between them.
“Nu-uh. I ain't putting out for Michael and I ain't putting out for you neither. You got your voice and I'll do my best with this ritual. You sure that book is where you left it?”
A rhythmic knocking sounds and Dean looks around for the source. The Canyon shivers in a heat haze. The knocking comes again. An urgent look crosses Gabriel's face and he steps forward once more, wrapping slender fingers around Dean's arm.
“Dean. Dean, do you remember when...” Gabriel's voice breaks off replaced by a loud knocking noise and Dean shudders awake.
“Whosit?”
“Get up y'idgit. We need to get this show on the road. Death ain't going to give himself up you know.” Bobby's gruff voice brings Dean fully awake and he groans, rubbing at his face. His tongue slicks out across his bottom lip and he thinks that he can still taste cinnamon.
He drags himself out to the Impala and they drive back to Bobby's house. Once both Bobby and Sam are settled down with research (and whisky in Bobby's case), Dean mutters something about following up another lead and heads out to the abandoned barn where they had summoned Castiel.
The walls are still covered in the various charms and symbols and Dean takes comfort in them, despite knowing they won't work against an angel. At least it will be a guarantee that whatever comes back is angelic and not something else.
He pulls out the box and the bowl, adding another feather that had turned up this afternoon on Bobby's porch. He doesn't know why he is so sure that it is Gabriel's and not just an ordinary bird feather but there is just something about it. He grinds the feathers down with a large pointed stone that he had found, breaking the vanes and crushing the delicate barbs.
When they start to look more like fine powder rather than feathers he stops and opens the ornately decorated box. Dean is almost too afraid to touch the delicate creation inside. If this is what Gabriel's grace looks like, it is beautiful. He carefully holds the box over the bowl and tips the spun sugar on top of the powdered feathers. He really hopes he doesn't sneeze.
He looks at his scribbled notes, brief reminders that he had managed to jot down on a piece of motel stationery.
“Why is there always blood? And more importantly, why does it have to be my blood?” Dean grumbles to himself as he rolls up a sleeve. The skin of his lower arm is already tracked with scars and he sighs at the thought of adding another. Dean sucks in a breath and draws the knife across tender flesh, watching the skin part and blood bubble slowly out.
He tilts his arm and watches the blood drip slowly into the bowl, counting each drop. He pulls his arm back and quickly wraps a clean dressing over the wound, licking at the stray droplets that stain his fingers. Dean closes his eyes briefly and sends a brief prayer to whomever maybe listening.
He adds the final ingredients to the bowl and takes hold of the piece of paper on which several Enochian symbols have been carefully written. He holds the edge of it to a candle and as soon as it is alight he drops it into the bowl, repeating the words Gabriel had made him practise.
The contents spark and burst into multi-hued flames, sending a rainbow of sparks flying upwards. The flames seem to grow, the colours mixing and combining, growing brighter and brighter until Dean is forced to close his eyes. The room grows hotter and Dean can feel sweat beading along his hairline, trickling down the line of his spine, dampening the soft curls of hair under his arms.
Colours dance against his eyelids and he brings an arm up to further shield his eyes, dropping his face into his shoulder. It's then that he realises there is a sound building in the room. It had been almost a vibration to start with, a deep bass tone, that echoes in Dean's bones. It rises in pitch, a clear bell-like tone that brings all the hair on Dean's body to attention and sends shivers rippling across his skin.
It rises further and Dean drops to his knees, trying to shield both eyes and ears.
“Gabriel!” His cry is lost in the light and noise.
“Gabriel! You're hurting me!” The sound is near unbearable now, the heat pricking at Dean's skin is threatening to blister it and he can't muffle the sob that leaks out of his chest. He licks at desperately dry lips and moans, “Gabe, please.”
The sound cuts off so suddenly that the absence is almost worse than the noise, Dean's ears still ringing with imaginary echoes. The heat fades as well as the light but Dean remains huddled on the floor until a soft, pained cry has him pushing upwards, peering over the table.
Dean almost falls back onto his knees as he takes in the figure curled in the middle of the barn. He can see bare feet, the toes curled hard, arch sharply curved. There is the firm line of a calf muscle and an arm thrown up over a head covered in tousled honey-brown hair.
The rest of the body is covered by an immense spread of wing. A hundred different shades of amber and gold and toffee, barred with black, speckled with white. They twitch and flutter and another pained mewl comes from the huddled body.
Dean sidles around the edge of the table, unable to take his eyes from the angel in the middle of the room. As he draws nearer he can see how damaged the wings look. The feathers are ruffled and twisted, the coverts fluffed up instead of lying sleek along the top of the wing.
Finally, he is close enough to touch and he drops to his knees at the tip of the expanded wing, a trembling hand stretching out towards a broken primary feather. He tugs lightly at it and it separates from the wing, falling from Dean's shaking fingers. He moves up towards Gabriel's head, trying to tuck the wing back towards Gabriel's body so that he can see him.
Each movement of the wing brings a soft gasp and Dean stops trying once he can see Gabriel's face. He lifts the arm that is curled over the angel's head, automatically feeling for a pulse in the slender wrist. There is a sluggish beat and Dean shakes the arm gently.
“Gabriel? Gabriel, can you hear me? It's Dean. What happened, I thought this was supposed to fix you.”
Dean crawls closer to Gabriel's face. Lashes twitch as Gabriel shifts, obviously in pain, eyes darting behind the closed lids. Gabriel has bitten his lip at some point, the tender flesh bruised and bleeding slightly. Dean rests a palm against the angel's cheek, feeling the soft shadow of a beard. Gabriel's freckles stand out against his worryingly pale skin, and Dean's thumb runs across the length of a cheekbone, the skin burning beneath his touch.
“Gabriel? Gabriel, what do I do?”
Dean moves again, unable to resist the lure of those gorgeous wings. He runs a hand tentatively along the line of bone, smoothing the feathers against it, pushing the odd one back into place. The touch seems to calm Gabriel and he repeats it, pushing fingers deeper into the feathers, rearranging them to lie sleek and ordered.
He moves back down to the wing tip, pulling it towards him across his spread legs. Carefully and methodically he realigns each primary feather, smoothing the barbs together. He works up towards the long bone, over the barred and speckled secondary feathers.
It happens when he's working his fingers into the mass of feathers close to Gabriel's body. He brushes across a small bump tucked under the feathers and it oozes a thick, sticky liquid all over his fingers.
“Gah. Ugh, gross Gabriel. Did your wing just spunk on me? Oh man, that's - that's just disgusting.” Dean lifts his hand up, staring at the oily glaze on his fingers. He rubs his hand back and forward across the wing in front of him, trying to rid himself of the sticky liquid.
The feathers seem to soak it in, taking on a soft sheen in the faint overhead light.
“This is one of the times I kinda wish Sammy was here you know. He'd have some weird fact stuffed in that giant brain of his about wings and what ever it is birds do with them. Or you know, maybe you could wake up and do this yourself?”
“But you're doing such a good job Dean.”
Dean's gaze jerks up to Gabriel's face but Gabriel is still out cold. He tries to spin around and stand at the same time, but his legs are entangled in Gabriel's wing and he tumbles once more to the floor.
“Ow, motherfu...”
“Uh-uh! Language, please. I have a delicate sensibility you know.”
Dean manages to untangle himself and staggers to his feet only to wish he'd stayed on the floor. There's a cupid in front of him. A naked, slightly chubby cupid. The angel beams widely at him, face dimpling almost as much as Sam's. Dean glares at him in return until the cupid's smile fades slightly.
“How is he?” The cupid tries to peek past Dean to look at the fallen archangel.
“How do you think he is? He got shanked by his own brother, and then I think he just tried to put himself back together, but somehow it hasn't worked. I'm sure I got everything right. Can't you check?” Dean clamps his mouth shut, hating the way his voice went from righteously angry to plaintive.
“Hmmm. Let's have a look.”
The cupid rounds the table and Dean tries to keep his eyes above waist level. The plump cherub grabs the edge of Gabriel's wing and lifts it, exposing the softer feathers underneath. It also exposes the fact that Gabriel is completely naked. The cherub pushes at the wing and then lets it drop to the floor on the far side, leaving Gabriel lying on his back.
Dean covers his eyes, skin flushing a bright scarlet. He's not going to look. He's really not. Okay, just a quick look to check that the horrible wound Lucifer had inflicted on him has healed and then no more looking.
He tilts his head and peeks through his fingers. Gabriel's face. Okay, that's fine. Still pale but he's seen that before. Jaw slightly shadowed with a reddish scruff, neck and shoulders, more muscled than you would expect, covered in pale tan skin. Seen that before too.
Chest, nice and broad, firm with muscle, small rosy nipples. Yeah, Dean doesn't need to look at them. Faint shadow of ribs as they rise and fall with Gabriel's slow breath. Soft swell of abdomen, but no dark tendrils, just a faint scar on his left side just below his ribs.
Dimple of bellybutton and then a soft line of dark hair leading... Dean slams his eyes shut and turns away. He ignores the chuckle from the cupid behind him.
“You're doing a good job Dean. Keep it up. Oh, and it would probably help if you told him.”
“Told him what?”
The cupid just chuckles again and there is that faint sound of wind and wings that always used to signal Castiel's arrival or departure.
“Hey! Come back here you feathery - feathery flea-ridden -” Dean ends his tirade with a wordless scream. He's too tired for this. It's too much. The ceremony was meant to work and then they would have an archangel on their side and no-one would have to go to Hell again. Except Lucifer of course, but without Sammy.
He drops to his knees beside Gabriel's still form. He can see the undersides of both wings now and they are just as bad as the top side he had just...groomed. Dean thinks, I just groomed an angel's wing. How the holy hell did that happen? He looks down at the wing spread in front of him. It's better than looking at the naked body lying less than a foot away from him.
Dean sighs. “Come on Gabriel. I did everything you told me. Did I use the wrong kind of rock? C'mon man, we're down to the wire here.”
Dean rubs his hands deep into the feathers on Gabriel's inner wing and the whole thing twitches and lifts. Dean smooths out the feathers and burrows his hands back in, watching carefully. Another shudder runs through the wing and Dean feels himself smile.
“Aw man, I bet you're just lying there lapping up this attention. You gonna play Sleeping Beauty till I got the whole thing straightened out? Too lazy to groom your own wings?” Dean slides his hands over the wide sweep of wing in front of him, pushing in deep and smoothing his oil-slicked hands down over the primary and secondary feathers, lining them up until the wing lies sleek and gleaming.
He wipes his hands off on his jeans without paying attention to the oily liquid that smears across them. He looks up at Gabriel's pale face, and blinks as a memory surfaces. Not Sleeping Beauty, Sleeping Ugly. A young Gabriel rolling on the floor, smirking up at Dean before he pretends to play dead.
“That was you?”
Dean stares down at the unmoving angel, trying to picture the face, slimmer, younger, the hair fallen over one eye. “It was. Jesus Christ! You know, you were the first boy I ever wanted to...” Dean cuts himself off with an angry wave of his hands before he shoves hard at Gabriel's shoulder, rocking the limp body against the floor.
“How dare you! You wake the fuck up, you hear me? You think you can keep popping up in my life, making me fall - making me like you and then you keep disappearing. Is this one big fucking game to you, have you been playing me even longer than Michael? At least Michael had the balls to be up front and honest about what he wanted from me.”
Dean leaps to his feet and paces away from the unconscious archangel. He doesn't know why he is suddenly so furious. He thinks back to that night long ago, the only school event he had ever made the effort to attend. Gabriel, looking so smart in his tuxedo, smiling at Dean.
He remembers the first day he had seen Gabriel, after drama class. The rainbow belt and pin making Dean hopeful that he wasn't alone in his feelings. That he wasn't the only one that thought boys were just as interesting as girls. And then Gabriel had just disappeared! One minute there, the next gone.
Dean had gotten into a huge fight with his dad when John had made them leave town a couple of days later. Dean was so sure that something awful had happened. But it hadn't. It was just another stupid Trickster joke. Dean wants to lash out but there is no one there. He slams a fist hard into one of the supporting posts, hearing the wood crack and splinter.
Skin shreds and tears, blood welling to the surface and trickling down over Dean's knuckles. Dean paces back and stands staring down at Gabriel's limp body. He must be cold there, lying on the floor. The thought startles Dean and he sinks back down, his flip-flopping emotions leaving him drained and miserable.
“I just wish I knew what to do. I thought we had it all under control. I thought that you would come back and we could send Lucifer back to the cage and Sammy would be safe. He can't go to Hell, Gabriel. I've been there. I don't ever want anyone I love to have to go through that.”
Dean can't stop his hand reaching out, pressing against Gabriel's face, tilting his head towards Dean.
“Please you have to wake up, you have to come back and help. You said you would. You said we were friends.” Dean's head droops and he lets his forehead rest slightly against the curve of Gabriel's shoulder.
“I thought I loved you, you know. Back then.” The words are barely audible, just a breath against Gabriel's cold skin. And Dean does the only thing he can think of. He pushes up on one hand, leaning his body over Gabriel's and presses his lips softly against Gabriel's.
It's chaste, skin just brushing skin, but Dean feels Gabriel's breath hitch and his lips part slightly against Dean's. Dean tilts his head just a bit and their mouths align and then it is as if something rushes up through Dean, like warm caramel filling him up from his toes, rushing through his veins and spilling over his lips, flooding into Gabriel.
Gabriel's body heats beneath his, wings fluttering against the hard floor as his tongue slips out to flicker against Dean's mouth, seeking a way inside. The kiss deepens, Dean's mouth moving hungrily over Gabriel's, nipping at his lower lip, sucking at his tongue, chasing that spun-sugar taste.
A moan slips out, dragging Dean back to reality and he remembers that he's pissed with Gabriel. Gabriel led him on and left him and then kept popping back into his life, no doubt laughing himself silly, with his stupid amber eyes and the thick waves of tawny hair, and that smirk that has Dean's blood spiralling away from his brain. Dean jerks himself away, fist thumping against Gabriel's chest, smearing blood over the pale skin. “You're a complete dick, you know that right. A total fucking - “
Gabriel wraps his arms around Dean, trying to get back to his mouth, nipping and licking at the curve of Dean's jaw. All he can remember is being torn apart and then something pulling at him, gathering his broken pieces and fitting them back together. And then the warm mouth pressed against his, tasting of summer and sweet fruit and joy and pain and loss and love.
He wants that back right now, can't understand why the body that was so snugly pressed up against him is fighting him, trying to get away. He chases the heat, wrapping limbs tightly around his struggling mate. Now there's a word - mate. Gabriel had never thought that word before but there it is, glowing at the front of his mind, and he needs his mate.
He flips the body beneath him, knees scraping on the hard floor. The feeling distracts him, but then the body beneath him heaves up and pushes against his groin and Gabriel can't stop the moan that pours out of him, low and hungry. Oh, he needs, he needswantsmate.
He rocks down against the body beneath him, mouth sucking at all the tender skin he can reach. He splays his hands wide against his mate's chest, enjoying the feel of strong muscle shifting beneath him. It's good, his mate needs to be strong. He presses his hips down, sensitive skin rubbing against harsh fabric. That won't do at all and he concentrates briefly.
Dean gasps as his clothes disappear, the floor beneath him suddenly chill against his bare skin, the angel above all heat and friction. He has no idea what just happened, is still trying to scrape enough brain cells together to get it to make sense. He tries to gather his anger, his outrage at Gabriel's behaviour, but Gabriel keeps shifting over him, his mouth hot and wet on Dean's neck, the line of his collarbone, the soft dip at the base of his throat and Dean's libido is all for throwing in the towel and just giving up and giving in to the delights being offered.
“Mmmm, smell so good. Need. Mine.”
The words are murmured, pressed into Dean's flesh with stinging nips and sweet kisses.
“No. Gabriel, what are you - stop - ahhhh!”
Dean's protest fades in a soft cry as Gabriel finally wraps a hand around him, fingers flexing against his swelling length. His wings rise up above them, knocking furniture aside as they flex and curve back against Gabriel's spine. The smell of warm feathers, candy and ozone crackles in the air and Dean arches upwards, lost in the swell of pleasure.
“Stop?” Gabriel heard the word but didn't understand, repeats it back to his mate.
“No, no, oh god, don't, don't.” Hands clutch at him greedily and Gabriel smiles, blindingly bright, as his mate pulls him down, twining his tongue against Gabriel's, licking at his mouth, soft pleas brushing against his lips. He shifts his hips upwards, feeling his mate hard and hot, filling his hand. He needs it somewhere else and Gabriel spreads his wings wide as he lifts up and slides back down in one smooth glide.
Dean screams as he feels his cock enveloped in slick, tight heat. Muscles flex around him, squeezing him and he thrusts up, trying to get deeper, further, more. He wraps his fingers around Gabriel's hips, holding him in place, as he grinds his length further inside the angel, seeking the one spot that will make his angel lose his mind the way Dean is losing his.
Long lashes flutter up and Dean stares at the angel above him. Gabriel's head is tipped back, his eyes closed, lips parted as he gasps his pleasure. His wings spread wide behind him, feathers fluffed and fluttering with each rock of Gabriel's hips against Dean's. His skin glows softly, hands almost gold where they rest on Dean's chest.
Dean wraps his hands tighter around Gabriel's hips. He doesn't care if he leaves marks, wants to see his angel bruised and owned. He pushes upwards, sliding the warm heat up his length, until only his tip remains inside, stretching the small muscle.
Gabriel moans and shivers in his hands, opens eyes that shine amber and bronze, pupils and whites enveloped. Dean yanks him down as he pushes his hips up, shoving himself hard and deep. Gabriel cries out, an almost birdlike sound.
Dean can only manage that slow control once more before all rhythm is abandoned in the desperate chase towards orgasm. Gabriel is rocking fitfully against him, Dean pushing up as much as he can, feet grinding into the floor, toes curling.
Dean drags a hand away from his angel's hip, slicking it through the pre-come smeared across his stomach before he wraps it around Gabriel's cock. He slides his hand downwards, tugs up, and then Gabriel clenches tight around him, wings pulling closed before spreading out again with a sharp crack.
Come spurts hot and slick, pearling against Dean's stomach, trickling over his hand and his cry joins Gabriel's as he jerks and spasms, filling Gabriel's heat.
The world fades out in a blur of pleasure and warmth as Gabriel droops forward, sweaty body pressing slickly against Dean's, wings enveloping them both in a dark, scented cocoon.
Dean comes back to himself slowly. It's dark and his back is cold but the front side of him is hot and sticky. There's a weight on his chest making breathing difficult and he tries to push at it. It moves slightly and Dean sucks in a gasp of humid air, groaning slightly at the ache in his pelvis. The sound makes the weight shift again and a noise starts up. It's strange, not quite a hum, not quite a growl. More like a purr or a warble. The weight on Dean's chest vibrates with the noise.
Gabriel can feel his mate moving under him. He had felt his mate's cock soften and slide from his body and he misses it already. His mate pushes at him and Gabriel slides more to one side, giving his mate a chance to breathe. He nuzzles his mouth up under his mate's chin, inhaling deeply. It's good, his mate smells like him now, like preen oil and sweat and come. Gabriel purrs happily and cuddles in.
The weight on Dean shifts again and light floods in around the edges of the wings that have spread over them like warm canopy. Fresh air floods in as well and Dean takes a deep breath. With the deep breath comes the realisation of exactly what the weight on him is and what they just did together.
“Oh God! Oh no. Gabriel, did we - we just - how did - Oh God!”
Gabriel pushes himself up and pulls his distraught mate into his lap, stroking the Enochian symbols for calm and soothe into the skin of his back.
“Why do you feel the need to call on my father? We don't need him. We are mated now. You are mine and I am yours. But what are we doing here?” Gabriel looks around, taking in the symbols covering the walls and ceiling, the broken furniture.
“Our mating was pleasant, but I know that it would be much better if we actually had a bed, and proper walls, oh and a bathroom. I'd like a bathroom, with a...”
“Pleasant? Pleasant?!” Dean jerks to his feet angrily and then realises that he is completely naked and covered in angel - stuff...
“I'm sorry, you're right. It was much more than pleasant, so imagine how good it would be on a bed, with pillows, and perhaps some handcuffs, maybe some cream and strawberries.” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. “Come mate, you can show me where you live and we...”
“Gabriel, slow down. Just stop. First, what's with this mate thing? Actually no, first, bring me back my clothes.”
Gabriel pouts and frowns but maybe his mate is cold. Perhaps his clothes will make him happier, it's not that hard to remove them if he gets amorous again. He concentrates and then his mate - Dean, the name slots into his head - is clean and clothed. Gabriel cleans himself up whilst he's at it, dressing himself in a pair of jeans.
“You woke me. You put me together and you kissed me. And then you mated me - so we are mates.” Gabriel thinks the explanation is fairly obvious and he smiles at Dean.
“So now what - are you going to go after Lucifer?”
“Why would I go after Lucifer? My brother is safe is he not?” Gabriel tries to remember the last time he saw his brother and finally realises that something is wrong. His brows draw together as he frowns, his wings twitching with his agitation. Dean steps out of range, a frown pulling his brows together as well.
“You don't remember?”
“No, I seem to have a gap. One moment.” Gabriel holds up a hand and his head tilts to one side in a manner that has Dean sucking in a harsh breath. He looks so much like Castiel in that moment. Completely otherworldly, not human. And Dean had - had mated him. He is so screwed. And not in that good way.
Dean can see the exact moment Gabriel's memories return to him. All the colour floods out of him, his skin turning pale. His eyes well with tears as he turns that amber gaze on Dean.
“Dean, I'm - I can explain, if you will let me. But first I have something I should do. Something we should have done a while ago.” The sound of wings is loud in the barn, wind whipping into Dean's face, bringing tears to his eyes. He raises a hand to smudge them away and Gabriel is gone.
Dean staggers out to the Impala, but it's a long time before he puts her in drive and heads back to Sammy and Bobby. He doesn't speak to either of them. Just grabs a bottle of whiskey and heads off to bed.
---II---
He wakens to Sam shaking viciously at his shoulder, yelling in his ear. Dean clutches at his head and tries to burrow back under his covers, away from the light that is trying to stab at his brain through his eyeballs.
Sam pulls away, noticing the bottle on the night-stand, the liquid inside only just reaching the bottom of the label. He rolls his eyes. Yeah, they may be in the middle of some pretty deep shit, but really, has a hangover ever really helped anyone?
“Dean. Given the circumstances I'll give you five to pull your shit together, but you need to get your ass downstairs. Like, right now.”
Dean would happily muffle his baby brother with his pillow, but it would mean moving and he doesn't think he can do that right now. He sighs into the darkness and lets his eyes drift closed for a moment. He can hear Sam leave the room and the softly spoken, “Five minutes Dean.”
Squinting, he hauls himself out of bed, trundling along the hall to the bathroom. He keeps the light off whilst he pisses and brushes his teeth. Dean fumbles in the cabinet until he finds a bottle of painkillers and swallows two with a couple of handfuls of water. He makes his way back to his room and hauls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, swallowing down the nausea that rises in his throat.
He makes his way down the stairs, following the smell of coffee. Bobby is in the kitchen, filling up a cup. Dean makes grabby hands at it and Bobby passes it to him with nothing but the raise of an eyebrow. It's hot, near boiling, dark and bitter and quite possibly the best thing that Dean has ever tasted.
Sam is sitting at the table, his own cup in front of him. Dean plops down next to him, groaning as his brain protests the movement. Castiel shifts across the room, head cocked and brow furrowed. Dean blinks at him, it's about the only thing that doesn't hurt too much.
Castiel moves and he is right in Dean's space, looming over him and is he sniffing him?
“Cas, man. What we have told you? Personal space.” Dean drags out the last two words as if that would make Castiel more likely to remember them.
“You smell.”
“Cas!! That's kinda rude and personal too.”
“But you do, you reek of him. It is all over you. You - you mated! You mated? We can mate now? I have to go.” Castiel smiles, wide and delighted. It's horrifying. Dean has never seen that expression on Castiel's face. Quite frankly he was beginning to think that Cas couldn't actually smile. There is the sound of wings and then the room is silent.
Dean can feel Bobby and Sam staring at him but he ignores them both, focusing his own gaze on the half-empty cup in front of him.
“So Sammy, what was so important that you dragged me down here?”
“Yeah, okay. You can change the subject just now but do not think that we are not coming back to that whole thing you just had with Cas.” Dean drops his head onto his hands.
“It's over.”
The words hang there in the air. Bobby is still leaning against the worktop, cup cradled in his hand, expression inscrutable behind his beard. Dean shifts his gaze to his brother, takes in the long fingers drumming against his cup, knows that his knee will be twitching under the table. He waves his hand in a 'carry on' motion.
“Dean. It's over. The apocalypse is over, done, finished.”
He blinks stupidly at Sam, the words not quite sinking in. How long has he been asleep? How did he miss it?
“The end of the world isn't happening and all you want to know is how did you miss it?” Sam smirks.
“Yeah. I mean we've been trying to beat this thing for months and then suddenly it's done whilst I was sleeping?” Dean feels the absurd urge to pout and moan that it's not fair but he bites it back. He doesn't need to give his brother anything more to smile about. He takes another sip of his coffee and finds his cup empty. He staggers over to the pot and fills it up, taking another sip before he turns to look at Bobby and Sam.
“How do you know? How did it happen? Are you sure?”
“Yes we're sure. It's on most of the news channels although they are calling it a freak meteorite strike or some kind of electrical disturbance caused by a solar flare or something like that.”
“The cage was opened and somebody shoved Lucifer back in it. Made quite a noise apparently, but, yeah, it's done.” Bobby's laconic tone does more to convince Dean than anything else.
“And Castiel? What was he doing here?”
“Well, so, I saw the news and called him to ask if he had any idea what it was. He went and checked it out, but apparently the angels are kinda like us. They know it happened, they're just not sure how. Cas says that Michael is pretty pissed, but something big seems to be going down.”
Dean returns his attention to his coffee and the three men stand in silence for a long moment. There is nothing to do. The world has been saved. Sam won't have to give in to Lucifer. Michael has no reason to be chasing Dean. It's done.
“So, anyone got a problem with me going back to bed then?” Dean asks, hoping that if he can disappear for another hour or two that Sam might forget Castiel's comments. Sam laughs and shakes his head at Dean.
“Nuh-uh. I want to know what the hell Cas was on about. I've never seen him like that. Okay, I'm aware of the space issues, but he totally sniffed you. It was weird. And then that smile...” Sam flushes a little before he continues, slightly faster. “I don't whether it was creepy or justreallycute.” The last phrase comes out in a garble but Dean makes out enough to send his brother a curious look.
Sam rushes on. “He said you smelled like someone. Who? And what was the whole mating thing about?”
“How the hell should I know? You probably know more about the weird angel shit than me and it's not like it matters anyway.” Dean rubs at his head, the headache beginning to increase instead of fade away.
“Look, unless you need me for some shit, I'm going back to bed. Don't wake me unless the world is about to explode. Actually, just, don't wake me.” Dean doesn't know why he feels so empty inside, he should be glad. He should be making plans to celebrate, but instead he feels hollowed out, useless. It was obviously Gabriel. Gabriel left him and took Lucifer down and probably went with him. Even if he didn't, there's no need for him to come back for Dean. Everything is finished.
Dean turns away from Sam and Bobby, ignoring the puzzled look Bobby shoots him, the kicked puppy look from Sam. He trails back up and collapses on the bed, pulling the blankets around himself without even removing his jeans. His head is aching worse than before and he grinds the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to rub it away. Eventually he slips into sleep.
---II---
It must be late afternoon when he wakes. The sun is no longer pushing in through the window. Dean rolls himself out of bed. The headache has subsided, leaving him with the dull memory of it. His mouth is dry, tongue dragging against his lips when he tries to moisten them.
He pads slowly downstairs to find the house empty. A bottle of Coke sits on the counter, a note folded and tucked underneath it. Dean opens the bottle and takes a long drink, burping loudly. The liquid is warmer than he usually likes and he takes it that the Coke has being lying out for a while. He unfolds the note.
Dean,
Have gone into town to get food and stuff. Castiel came by. Will fill you in later. You dirty, dirty dog! :D
Dean stops reading. One, he can't believe that his brother drew a smiley face on a note and two, Castiel told on him. He's going to have words, serious words. He looks back at the note.
Drink this, it will make you feel better. There's sandwiches in the fridge. Bobby's away to see Sheriff Mills about something, so don't worry, you'll have a couple of hours of peace and quiet!!!
Don't do anything I wouldn't do! :D
And there's that damn smiley face again. What the hell is his brother on? Did he fall into some weird different dimension thing. That would be new. Actually not, but still. Dean pulls open the fridge and removes the plate of sandwiches, setting it on the table. His stomach growls noisily and he brings the bottle of cola over.
He's just unwrapped the cling-film, balling it up and tossing it at the waste-bin when there is a quiet noise behind him. Dean freezes, his hand slipping to his waistband, reaching for the butt of the gun that isn't there. It's still upstairs, tucked under his pillow. He can feel someone standing behind him. He sucks in a slow breath, inhales the scent of ozone and sugar.
A hand slides down over his shoulder, comes to rest on the swell of his pectoral as a nose nuzzles against his throat, followed by the wet pressure of an open mouth, sucking at the sensitive skin behind his ear.
In one swift sequence, Dean is out of the chair and Gabriel is pinned between him and the wall, Dean's arm across his throat. He glares down at the smaller angel. Gabriel looks more like himself, the wings have disappeared and he is dressed in his usual dark shirt and green jacket.
“You - you - how...”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow at Dean's angry incoherence, but then his eyes are fluttering closed as Dean pulls him up another inch and fastens his mouth over Gabriel's The kiss is hard and dirty, Dean wasting no time. He forces Gabriel's mouth open, licking in with firm sweeps of his tongue, sucking at Gabriel's lower lip, biting at the tender skin.
Gabriel just gives in, tipping his head to allow Dean better access as he wraps his legs around Dean's waist and clutches hard at the firm swell of Dean's biceps. A low groan pushes into Gabriel's mouth as Dean's hips jerk into the cradle of Gabriel's pelvis. Dean trails his lips downwards, sucking at the thin skin of Gabriel's throat until blood flushes to the surface. He grinds up against Gabriel once more and then suddenly Gabriel finds himself sprawled on the floor as Dean drops him and staggers across the room.
“Why do I - How do you - oh God, they know. Castiel knows. And you - you...”
Dean rounds on Gabriel with a frustrated yell.
“What happened? I mean, we had just - and then you just disappeared without telling me what was going on. I really hate it when you all do that stupid, disappearing angel thing. Then I get back here and Cas starts sniffing me and...” Dean trails off, inarticulate, hands waving. Gabriel just stares up at him from the floor.
It's then that Dean notices the blood on Gabriel's hand, the dark stains on his coat. This, this he can deal with. This is a physical thing, no emotions required.
“Gabriel, you're hurt. There's blood. Come on, let me see.” He shoves a hand under Gabriel's arm, pulls him to his feet and over to the table where he slides him onto a chair. Gabriel smiles and rubs at Dean's arm.
“It's okay. Got my mojo back, I'm fine, no injuries. Just wanted to see you. Shoulda cleaned up first, I guess. But if you really wanna check...” Gabriel shrugs his jacket off and reaches for the buttons on his shirt. He's got another two undone before Dean stops him with a thump to his arm. Relief floods through him and all the other emotions just seem to drain away with it.
“Idiot. Jackass.” Dean's hand returns in a soft rub as if he just can't stop touching Gabriel now that he is here. “How could you go off and face Lucifer on your own like that? You know what he did to you last time you tried that. You could have been killed. More killed. Hell, I don't know how it works, but...”
Gabriel pulls Dean down and places a soft kiss to his mouth, silencing his tirade. “But last time I was short on Grace, I was injured. This time I was fully charged, and I had my mate. That kinda surprised Luci. You shoulda seen the look on his face, man, it was really kinda funny. Especially once he got a good sniff and realised just who was mated to.”
“Yeah, I think you owe me an explanation on that. How the hell did we end up mated?”
Gabriel grins brightly and licks at Dean's neck. Dean can't quite remember how he came to be seated in the chair and Gabriel came to be sat on his lap, straddling his thighs. He just hopes that Bobby's kitchen chair can hold up.
“You seemed to know what you were doing earlier Dean. But if you need 'The Talk'...” Gabriel makes air quotes and Dean pinches his ass, hard. Gabriel moans and tucks his head under Dean's chin, trying to nip at his collarbone as his hips start a slow grind.
“Or maybe I could just show you.” Gabriel's voice has shifted lower and he leans back to focus on Dean, pushing their hips together, a friction that is nowhere near enough for Dean. His eyes are glowing, the whites fading away to a golden haze. Dean pulls him in for another slow kiss.
“I always was a hands-on student.” Gabriel laughs and moans again when Dean bites at his already swollen mouth. There's a soft click and the chair rocks slowly, before toppling over, empty, to the kitchen floor. There is another soft sound of wings and a cupid appears, smiling happily. He rights the chair, tucking it back under the table.
He smiles wider as the moans from upstairs increase slightly in volume. He swipes a sandwich from the plate and glances upwards. His eyes flutter closed for a moment and he says softly, “And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”
He looks around and steals another sandwich. “I think we'll call this one a draw, Gabriel.” And then the room is empty again, only the soft cries of pleasure from upstairs and the hum of bees and the sweet rising trill of a bird outside remaining to fill the air.