[Fic] I'll Be Home For Christmas; PG-13
Title: I’ll Be Home for Christmas (But Gabriel Might not Survive the Trip)
Author: phate_phoenix
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 5x10.
Warnings: Erm… Dean’s a potty-mouth?
Prompt: “Every mile is two in winter.” from spn_gabriel
Word Count: ~7300
Summary: George Herbert says every mile is two in winter. Dean swears every mile is eight with Gabriel. Sam just hopes everyone makes it to Bobby’s in one piece.
Author’s Notes: WHO LIKES ROAD TRIPS? XD The prompt made me think of icy roads. Thus, we have this. XD This is a sequel to ‘ Stopping By’, in that I’m using that as how Gabriel joins Team Winchester. So, yeah. Enjoy!
----
“Yeah, Bobby, yeah,” Dean says into the cell phone, eyes firmly on the white-washed road ahead of them. “Yeah, it was a leviathan. Just like you said, yeah. We got it: you’re awesome, we’re ‘idjits’.” Dean pauses. “No, I’m not mocking you…”
Sam looks out the window and exhales-there’s been nothing but white and flat for about an hour now, basically since they left Devils Lake. The only other color anywhere is the brown splatters of sand on the road to provide traction, which, really, isn’t doing anything for the iciness. There’s a twenty mile-per-hour wind hitting them, sending blasts of pure white across the road, like a sheet that neither he nor Dean can see through. Sam thinks they might be in for a blizzard in the next few minutes.
God, Sam hates winter in North Dakota.
“We’re planning on driving straight to you,” Dean says, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Sam looks at Dean, frowning.
“Dude, there’s a Winter Storm warning in the area,” he grumbles. Dean rolls his eyes.
“What Bobby? Sorry, Samantha’s having a hissy-fit.” Sam scowls at him, and Dean ignores him. “Yeah, yeah, if it gets bad, we’ll stop. We’re gonna break in Grand Forks before we hit the interstate anyway, so if there’s some bad weather coming through we’ll get a room for the night. So, we’ll either be there today, or by Christmas Eve.” Dean smirks, nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ll take it slow. Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He flips the phone closed and tosses it into a cup holder. Dean looks briefly at Sam, smiling. “Bobby’s making ham for Christmas dinner.”
Sam raises his brow at Dean, frowning. “Dean, you’re not driving through a blizzard.”
Dean scoffs, gesturing to the road ahead of them. “It isn’t even that bad yet, Sam. You’re just being paranoid. I see the road perfectly fine.”
“I’m just saying,” Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off.
“And I’m just saying that you should stop clutching your pearls.”
Sam huffs, slouching back in his seat. “How far are we from Grand Forks?” he grouches, glaring at Dean through his bangs.
Dean looks down at the odometer. “We’ve gone about fifty miles,” Dean says. “So… forty-five minutes. Give or take.”
Sam shifts in his seat, crossing his arms. Dean snickers at him.
“Ah, c’mon, Sammy!” he jeers. “I’ve driven through wor-JesusMary’n’Joseph!”
Dean jerks in his seat and the car lurches. Sam’s head snaps up as he feels the Impala shift beneath him, both backwards and left as Dean tries to regain control of the car, but no go-they slide across the (thankfully) empty road and continue down into the ditch. There is no rest or pause-their momentum carries them over, and Sam can feel the car tilting and the world suddenly changes around him-items in the trunk are clunking loudly as Sam braces himself against the dashboard as up becomes sideways and-
They’re still once more, and up is up and down is down and gravity is pulling at Sam’s ass instead of his side. Ahead of them is the road-they’ve somehow ended up on the shoulder instead of a snow bank. He takes several gasping breaths, hands still pressed against the dashboard, and looks over at Dean, ready to bitch an ‘I told you so, jackass’ at him. Dean, however, is clenching the steering wheel tightly and glaring at the rearview mirror like he wants to murder it, which makes Sam turn his head to the back.
Oh.
In the backseat, Gabriel lounges directly behind Sam, looking out the window and tapping his fingers across the door. Castiel, meanwhile, is bracing himself against the roof of the car and the cushion beside him. He blinks owlishly at Dean’s reflection for several moments.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel says, and moves his hands to his knees.
Sam swallows loudly, peeling his hands away from the dashboard. They quiver as he sets them in his lap.
Dean, however, nearly punches the top of the stereo before he jerkily slows and instead sets his fisted hand down gently. He glares through the windshield. “You stupid sons of bitches-”
Gabriel leans slightly to look at Sam. “Are we leaving soon?” he asks, stretching his arms out lazily. “It’s been a long flight.”
“Now wait a minute!” Dean snarls, spinning around in his seat. “You almost made me crash my car!”
Gabriel turns to Dean, eyebrows raised. “Actually, you did crash your car,” he says, and Dean stills, mouth tightening and fingers digging into the leather seat. Gabriel rolls his eyes. “But I fixed everything, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Sam looks around the car and finds that everything is indeed in place-even Dean’s cell phone is still sitting in the cup holder, at the exact same position it had been before. Dean’s eyes narrow further.
“What do you mean,” he says, slowly, “you fixed my car?”
Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “I… fixed it,” he says. “What other meaning could that possibly have?”
Dean glares, leaning as close as his seatbelt will allow. “What the hell did you do to her?!”
Gabriel looks at the car door and strokes one finger down it. “Nothing,” Gabriel says. “I sent us back in time ten seconds, however.”
Dean stares at him before glaring at Castiel. “I expected you to keep a leash on him, Cas!”
Castiel stares back, eyes narrowing slightly. “He is an archangel, Dean,” he says earnestly. Sam levels Dean with his own glare. Dean scowls, turning back around in his seat.
“Alright, new car rule!” he growls. “When someone is driving on an icy road, you don’t fucking pop into the back seat!”
Castiel’s brows furrow slightly before he nods solemnly. Gabriel scoffs, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.
“If you weren’t so skittish,” he quips, “you wouldn’t have these problems.”
Dean jerks to look over his shoulder. “If I wasn’t so-?!”
Sam slouches back into his chair, just glad that they aren’t going to die. “Dean… let it go. He can turn you into a gerbil.”
Gabriel frowns. “Gerbils are boring,” he says. Then he squints at the driver’s seat. “Do you think the seat could fit a reindeer?”
“No,” Castiel says at once, looking at Gabriel. Then his head tilts to the side. “Unless he was a very young calf.”
Sam snorts, looking away while Dean starts the car. “Fuck you all,” Dean declares, and pulls back onto the road.
--
“So,” Gabriel begins, stirring his cup of peppermint cocoa, “you slew the mighty leviathan?”
Sam nods, sipping at his coffee. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t so… mighty.”
They’ve stopped at a local café-restaurant, just off of Interstate-29 called ‘The Roadhouse Café’. They almost didn’t, with Ellen and Jo’s deaths still raw and painful, but being a hunter means you move on. So they do.
Sam’s a little glad they did, actually. Besides the cheap food, television, and pleasant waitresses, they have free internet.
He browses through the weather forecast online. “It was kinda small, actually. Well, compared to the legends, anyway…”
Sam looks up as Gabriel snorts, pouring chocolate syrup over his pancakes. “We’ve told you guys time and time again: your bible is so wrong on some things. It’s pretty funny.”
Sam stares at the small glass container of chocolate syrup. He lifts his gaze to Gabriel. “They don’t have chocolate syrup here.”
Gabriel smirks, eyebrows wiggling. “Nope.”
Sam nods, glancing at his own empty plate. “Anyway,” he says, wondering when he’d become so used to Gabriel magicking stuff from nowhere, “it was about the size of a manatee. But with a longer neck and sharper teeth. Oh, and it sneezed fire.”
Gabriel snorts, spearing a few pieces of pancake on his fork and putting them in his mouth. “Hellbeasts are interesting little creatures,” he says around his mouthful of food. He swallows and smirks. “Lucifer got creative in Hell.”
“I guess you could call it that,” Sam mumbles, turning back to the forecast.
“So?” Gabriel drawls, leaning over the table to look at the laptop screen. “Are we looking at certain death?”
Sam sighs, closing the laptop, and shrugs at Gabriel. “We should be fine,” he says. Then he levels Gabriel with his patented bitchface. “As long as you don’t cause Dean to flip out at the wheel again.”
Gabriel scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No more causing Dean to crash the car. Got it.” He then looks over where Dean and Castiel are sitting and smirks. “If Dean crashes because he’s too busy staring at Castiel, though, that’s not my fault.”
Sam glances at them and sighs. He drains his coffee and leans forward, muttering, “I’m this close to locking them in a closet somewhere.”
Gabriel looks back at him, raising his eyebrows and grinning. Sam winces and leans back, shaking his head. “Dude, just… no.”
Gabriel leans back, mouth quirking and brows furrowing. A ‘Why the hell not?’ face if Sam ever saw one.
“Because Dean will kick the door down first off, or hurt himself trying to,” Sam says, lifting a finger, “and two,” he raises another, “Dean will know it was you, and then he’ll blame me for it.”
That had become the norm-Gabriel does something to Dean, Dean blames Sam.
Gabriel smirks, shrugging and stuffing the last of his pancake into his mouth. “You should stop giving me these awesome ideas,” he says and drops his fork onto his plate with a clatter.
Sam wonders when he got the power of suggestion over the manic archangel in their group. Instead of glaring futilely at Gabriel, he pushes himself to his feet and slides his laptop into his backpack. Gabriel leans back to sip his cocoa as Sam pulls his winter jacket on. Sam slings his backpack over one shoulder and looks over at where Dean and Castiel sit, watching Dean struggle to withhold a grin as Castiel inspects the Styrofoam cup placed in front of him.
“C’mon, Cas,” Dean says as Sam walks over to them, “this is hot chocolate. You’ll like this.”
Castiel turns suspicious eyes on Dean. “You said that about coffee.”
Dean shrugs, leaning back. “Hey, I apologized about that. This is different. You like chocolate, remember?”
Castiel’s eyes narrow before he looks back down at his cup. Slowly, he reaches out and grabs it and lifts it to his lips. Dean straightens, eyebrows rising, and leans forward a bit. Castiel tilts the cup and takes a single gulp, and then pulls it away from his mouth. His brows furrow, cheeks pushed out slightly, and he looks back at the cup. He swallows loudly, frowning.
Dean grins. “And…?”
Castiel looks up, face serious. “I believe I like hot chocolate, Dean.”
Dean smiles, honest and wide, and it makes Sam’s chest ache. “Alright! Y’see? You shouldn’t doubt me, Cas.”
Castiel’s eyes narrow and he leans forward. “I have never doubted you, Dean, and I never will.”
Dean swallows and ducks his head to the side. “Ah, right,” he mumbles.
Sam waits until Dean catches sight of him and then he smirks. Dean frowns at him, bewildered.
“What?”
Sam shrugs, still smirking. “Nothing, just,” he flicks his eyes between Dean and Castiel, “you’re really cute together.”
Dean blinks and then scowls, pushing himself to his feet. “Ha-ha,” he grumps, snatching up his coat. “You’re utterly hilarious, Sam,” he says, slouching past Sam and towards the exit. Castiel rises to his feet and stalks after him, clutching his cup of cocoa to his chest. Sam blinks after them, lifting his free hand into the air.
“Ah, Dean?” he calls and Dean pauses at the exit, looking over and lifting an eyebrow. Sam gestures at the dirty table beside him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Dean’s eyes widen and he smiles. “Oh, you’re right!” He turns to their waitress as she walks by. “Uh, ma’am,” he says and she pauses to look at him. Dean smiles winningly at her. “My brother’s table and I are together. He’s paying.”
“What!” Sam yelps as Dean laughs his way out the door, Castiel a half-step behind. “Dean!”
The waitress plants her hands on her hips before turning to face Sam. “Do you want me to bring him back?”
Sam sighs, shaking his head. “No, just… I’ve got it.”
The waitress glances at him before shrugging and walking to her other booths. Sam rolls his eyes and pats at his pockets to find his wallet.
“Hey,” Gabriel says, walking over to him, “I’ve already got it.”
Sam frowns. “Already…?” He looks first at his table and then his brother’s and sees that there is, indeed, money lying at their centers. Sam blinks and turns back to Gabriel. “Thanks,” he says. A part of him wonders what will happen to the money, if it’ll just disappear one day, but doesn’t say anything about it-is it really any different from credit card scams?
Gabriel shrugs and steps past Sam and towards the door. “Don’t mention it,” he says over his shoulder, and steps out of the building and into the cold. Sam shakes his head, smiling, and follows after.
It isn’t snowing, thankfully, but Sam wishes it were far warmer than negative-two-degrees-Fahrenheit. The clear sky and bright sunlight was deceptive, and he pulls his hands into his sleeves. Gabriel watches him for a moment, unaffected by the temperature due to his angel-mojo instead of his inappropriate green sports jacket. Sam glowers at him and pulls his arms in tighter, ignoring Gabriel’s snickers as they approach the car, where Dean and Castiel are waiting.
“Hey,” Dean’s saying as they come closer, “you sure you’re not cold? I mean, you’re wearing a rain coat.”
Castiel stares at his coat for a moment before lifting his gaze. “I am fine, Dean,” he says. “But my hot chocolate is now lukewarm chocolate.”
Dean closes his eyes briefly before he shakes his head. “Right, right,” he mumbles before spying Sam and Gabriel coming towards them.
Sam frowns. “Dean, what are you doing?”
Dean smirks. “Laying down the law.”
“Dean, I’m cold and my fingers are frozen. I want to go into the car.”
Dean waves him off. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, and Castiel’s eyes narrow. Dean glances at him before turning to Gabriel. “From here until we get to Bobby’s, there will be no more porting in or out of my baby.”
Castiel’s head tilts to the side, brows furrowing. Dean sighs, looking at him. “What I mean is, if you’re riding with us, you get in this car now and you stay in the car until we get to Bobby’s. No flying off or whatever whenever you want.”
Castiel frowns and looks at the backseat of the car. Gabriel sighs, crossing his arms.
“How long is the drive?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Dean looks back at Gabriel. “Uh, about five-and-a-half-hours.”
Gabriel bobs his head from side to side before looking at Sam. “Fine,” he says, and walks around the trunk of the car. Dean stares at him, dumbstruck.
“Wait, ‘fine’?!” he says, leaning over the roof of the Impala. “But… I mean… I swear I’ll draw some angel-proofing sigils on the roof of my car.”
Gabriel glances at Castiel before smiling at Dean. “Sure you will,” he says before opening the car door and slipping into the passenger-side backseat.
Castiel glances at Dean before pulling open his door and sliding inside. Sam rolls his eyes at Dean as he walks around him.
“What?” Dean says as he climbs into the car. Sam gets into the car as well, studiously ignoring Dean. Dean grumbles under his breath before turning on the car and blasting the heat through the ducts. Gabriel snickers from the backseat.
“Please keep all hands and wings inside the vehicle at all times, until we’ve come to a complete stop.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Dean says, smiling bitterly at Sam. “I can just tell.”
--
“So, Castiel,” Sam says, somewhat desperately after an hour-and-a-half passes in complete silence, “where did you and Gabriel head to yesterday?”
Castiel looks away from the rearview mirror and stares at Sam. “It was Gabriel’s turn to choose,” he says.
Dean snorts, eyes flicking up to the mirror. “Where’d he take you? Vegas?”
Castiel blinks back at the reflection. “Yes.”
Dean stares at him through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road. “Oh,” he says, nose flaring. “Awesome.”
Gabriel smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “It was,” he says. “It’s easy to play blackjack when you can read minds.”
Sam stares at him. “Blackjack?”
Castiel nods, eyes narrowing at Gabriel. “He told me he was going to search the tables for our Father.”
Gabriel turns to Castiel, pouting out his lips. “Hey, I did look.” His lips immediately turn in a grin and he waggles his eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun on the side.”
Castiel frowns, eyes narrowing. “Your priorities are misplaced, then, as the search for God seems less important than… indulging.”
“My priorities?!” Gabriel says, exasperated. “Why don’t you tell them what happened right before we left?”
Castiel shifts awkwardly in his seat, glancing all around the backseat of the car. His hands fold together in his lap, and Sam can’t help but be reminded of a little boy who’s done something wrong and knows they’re going to be yelled at for it.
“Cas?”
Sam looks at Dean, whose own brow has furrowed into something like concern. Castiel lifts his gaze briefly to the mirror.
“There… was a bachelorette party enjoying the bar at the casino we were searching,” he begins, slowly, head bowed slightly and eyes dropped to the side. “They were quite intoxicated, and boisterous.”
A low, creaking noise rolls through the air, and Sam jerks his head around. Dean’s hands clutch tighter and tighter to the leather steering wheel, lips pressed into a thin line. Sam turns around in his seat and looks back at Gabriel, whose eyebrows have risen again and head tilts slightly to the side as he stares at Dean. His eyes slowly make contact with Sam’s, and he smirks.
Sam can’t help the amazed grin that appears on his face-Gabriel planned this, the dickhead.
Castiel, however, continues to admire his shoes. Gabriel leans back into his seat.
“Boistrous is one word,” he says. “Not the one I’d use. Eager, maybe.” Sam sees Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye. “Horny, definitely.”
Dean’s eyes narrow, but remain on the road. “Cas, what’s that mean?”
Castiel looks into the mirror, eyes wide.
“Gabriel and I were invited to partake in an orgy.”
The car jerks suddenly, and Sam smacks his head against Dean’s seat. “Ow! Dean, what the hell?!” he snaps, pressing a hand to his forehead, and glares at his brother.
Dean clears his throat, eyes twitching from Sam, to the rearview mirror, back to the road. “Black ice,” he grunts, slouching into his seat.
Gabriel cackles, nudging Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. “That’s not the best part,” he chirps. He leans forward in his seat, poking his head between Dean and Sam. “He told them, and I quote, ‘Dean would not like it if I were to join you.’ Can you believe him? I went to Vegas with the fricking Virgin Mary.” He pauses. “No, Mary would have been more fun. Trust me, I knew her.”
Sam’s eyebrows jump upward immediately, and he blinks. Gabriel grins, falling back against his seat. Castiel frowns at him before looking at Sam, confusion evident on his face. Dean-
Dean’s face loses the pinched, almost pained, expression that had appeared the moment Castiel had started to talk about Vegas. He grins at the rearview mirror, an eyebrow rising.
“That so, Cas?” Dean asks, and smiles, turning his eyes on the road again. “What else did I say?”
Castiel’s eyes brighten before narrowing, and his mouth curls into a smile that Sam has never seen before, and, if he didn’t know better, he’d say it was mischievous.
“Do not order off the menu.”
Sam breaks into a started chuckle while Gabriel coughs and snorts. Dean, however, bursts into helpless laughter, thumping his hand against the steering wheel. Castiel sits in the back of the car, looking as smug as Sam has ever seen him. Sam figures he’s earned it, though, for making Dean laugh so hard.
--
“Dude, we really have to pull over soon.”
“Ah, c’mon, Sammy! Two hours until we get to Sioux Falls! Can’t your bladder wait until then?”
“Dean, I told you, like, an hour ago that I had to go. You said we’d stop at the next rest stop. You passed four.”
“So? That just proves you can hold it a bit longer.”
“Dean, my eyeballs are floating. Stop at the next rest stop or I’m just going to pee in this cup.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I will!”
“Oh, hey, Sam! What’s that just ahead?”
“Dean, don’t you dare-”
“Could that be a rest stop I see?”
“Dean, I swear I’ll do it.”
“Quick everyone, wave as we pass it by!”
“…”
“…Sam, what are you doing?”
“…”
“Dude! Not in the car!”
“…”
“Fine, fine! I’m turning around, you sicko!”
“Heh. How easy was that?”
“…Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
--
“And I mean,” Gabriel says, leaning forward and poking his head between the two front seats again, “this guy is a real sick fuck. Tied towels to cats, lit them on fire, and watched as the cats tried to out run the flames.”
Dean’s eyes are twitching between the windshield and Gabriel, eyebrows high on his forehead. “So what’d you do?”
Gabriel smirks, wicked and sharp. “I turned him into a mouse and dropped him in a back alleyway.”
Dean shakes his head, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Gabe, man,” he says, “the stuff you did…”
Gabriel scowls at the nickname but says nothing about it. “Yeah, well, now that I’m on Team Morality, I’ve had to hang up my ‘Kiss the Smiter’ apron.”
Sam frowns at him. “Then why did you team up with us? You could have joined up with the angels and continued doing it.”
Dean glares at him. “Hey, Sam, how about we don’t talk the archangel out of helping us?”
Sam frowns. “I’m not. He could have if he wanted to, and he knows that. I’m just… curious about why he chose us.” He pauses, nodding his head to the side. “Aside from the fact that we’re less likely to gank him.”
Gabriel snorts. “Well, there is that,” he says. He looks out his window, squinting at the passing snow drifts. “As tired as I am of the fighting, of my family killing each other, of God not being here anymore…” He trails off, turning to look at Castiel. “I don’t think we’re meant to sound the trumpets just yet. I think… this was a test. A test for the angels, though, instead of you humans.” He smirks humorlessly, looking at Sam. “I think we’re all failing. Well,” he pauses, and turns to his brother again, “except for Castiel.”
Castiel blinks and bows his head, but there is unmistakable joy in his eyes at the praise. “I… thank you.”
Sam’s brows furrow. “But… you’re doing what Castiel’s doing. How can you be failing, too?”
Gabriel snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m basically cheating off of Castiel’s paper, Sam. Besides, I took off when things got tough, ‘went pagan’, as you said. Gonna get some points off for that,” he says, grinning. “But maybe you’re right. Better late than never, huh?”
Sam smiles back, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he says, “better late than never.”
“Speaking of better late than never,” Dean drawls, turning the car onto what Sam can immediately recognize as Bobby’s junkyard property, even under several inches of snow, “we’ve arrived at our destination.”
Sam sits up straighter, catching sight of Bobby’s house through the piles of cars and heaps of metal dotted around the snow-covered landscape. Dean pulls the Impala into its usual spot just as Bobby rolls out of his house and onto the snow.
“Bobby!” Dean calls as he slides out of the car, smiling. “We made it in one piece!”
Bobby smiles back at him. “Good to hear that, boy,” he says, leaning in his chair to peer at the car. Sam steps out a moment later, grinning.
“Hey Bobby,” he says, and looks down at the wheelchair as he comes to stand beside Dean. “Did you put… chains on your wheels?”
Bobby smirks, flicking a bit of the chain on his tire. “Helps with the traction around here,” he says, gesturing to the snow under foot. He glances at the car as the two angels step out of it, and he turns to Dean. “You drove here with two angels in your backseat?” he drawls.
Dean just smirks. “Why do you think I was so impressed we made it here at all?”
Bobby nods, eyebrows rising. “I get it now.”
“Did you…”
Sam turns his head towards Castiel’s voice, and sees him staring at the ground. Gabriel makes an amused, startled noise as he walks next to him. He raises his eyes and smirks at Bobby.
“You turned the snow into holy water, didn’t you?”
Dean jolts and looks down at his feet. “You can do that?”
Bobby shrugs. “Freeze some holy water, powder it, and spread it around,” he says. “It’s pretty easy.”
Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s… brilliant.”
Bobby raises an eyebrow at him. “Of course it is,” he says, turning slowly to look at Gabriel. He frowns. “So, you’re Gabriel.”
Gabriel grins, shrugging. “I know, I know, I look way better in person, right?”
Bobby scowls. “Anyone gets any STDs, mind-whammied, or transformed into furniture, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Hey,” Gabriel says, “I’m clean. Any STDs won’t be from me.” Then his grin turns into a full-fledged smile. “I like you,” he says, nodding. He tilts his head to the side, squinting. “I tried to kill you with a chainsaw-wielding cannibal, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Something’s different about you.” His eyebrows rise as he leans his head back. “Oh,” he drawls, snapping his fingers, “that’s right.” He points at Bobby. “You were bipedal back then, right?”
Sam flinches, shooting Gabriel a glare, while Dean stiffens beside him. Castiel’s eyes widen frantically and he places a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. Bobby remains utterly motionless.
“Glad to see your angel memory is working properly,” Bobby grunts, sitting back in his chair further.
Gabriel rolls his eyes, trudging out from under Castiel’s hand and forward. “Why don’t you stop being so lazy, old man,” he says, stopping in front of Bobby, “and go put the chair away?”
Dean snarls, bristling in rage beside Sam. “You slimy son-of-a-”
Gabriel reaches out and places a hand on Bobby’s head, and Dean lunges forward. Sam catches him, placing his arms around him and holding him in place. “Dean!” he says.
“What the Hell?! Damn it, Sam! Lemme go!”
Sam feels his breath stutter in his throat, because he knows Gabriel, and Gabriel wouldn’t hurt them. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Sam knows this, because Gabriel is part of their group. Because Gabriel wants to pass this test.
Because he trusts Gabriel.
Gabriel looks over his shoulder for a single moment, and Sam catches his gaze. Then Gabriel snorts, nodding his head, and walks past Bobby, his hand slipping off his head. He glances back at them and smirks. “Get up, take your chair, and go home.”
With the sound of fluttering wings, Gabriel disappears.
Bobby stares straight ahead for a long moment, and Dean rushes forward, roughly jerking himself from Sam’s grip. “Bobby!” he calls, sliding onto his knees and placing his hands on Bobby’s still arms. “Bobby, what’d he do to you?”
Bobby blinks, moving his gaze to Dean’s. “He…” he begins before stopping, dropping his eyes to his lap, and shakes his head. Sam watches as Bobby entwines his arms with Dean’s, a small scowl appearing on his face. “Nothin’, I’m fine,” he says. “Quit babyin’ me. I’m in a wheelchair, not a stroller.”
“What?” Dean says, leaning back. “Oh, right.” He pushes himself away from Bobby’s wheelchair and stumbles to his feet. As he wipes at his knees, Sam slowly walks around him and towards Bobby.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare Dean throws over his shoulder at him.
Bobby huffs, looking down at his chair. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, “but the bastard did a number on my tires.”
Sam leans sideways, and blinks: the wheels have been squished, making them more oval instead of circular. Dean swears under his breath.
“Why the hell did we bring him along?” Dean snaps, crouching down and rubbing a finger over the misshapen tires.
Sam shakes his head. “I don’t get it,” he mumbles. “He’s been with us for over a month. If he was going to do something nefarious, don’t you think he would have done something more than… mess with Bobby’s wheelchair?”
“Hell if I know,” Dean growls. “I didn’t spend all of my time with the douchebag.”
Sam grits his teeth, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Gabriel’s been a big help to us, Dean. I’m only saying that it doesn’t make sense.”
Dean snorts bitterly at him, pushing himself to his feet. He looks over at Castiel. “Cas, any idea what the hell Gabe’s plan is?”
Castiel remains silent for a minute, eyes lingering on Bobby before turning to Sam. His head tilts, eyes narrowing, and Sam shuffles uncomfortably under his stare. Finally, he looks to Dean, face completely blank.
“It’s cold outside,” he says. Dean’s brow furrows, and Castiel glances at the front door before looking back at Dean. “We should go inside if we are to discuss this further.”
Bobby snorts, frowning. “Featherbrain’s right,” he says, leaning forward in his chair. “Help me into the house before my ass freezes to the seat.”
Sam nods and bends down gripping one of Bobby’s arms and pulling it over his shoulder, grasping the other side of Bobby’s jacket. He sees Dean follow suit on the other side, wrapping Bobby’s arm around his shoulder and gripping Sam’s side of Bobby’s jacket. Sam grunts at the position before tilting his head towards Bobby. “You all set, Bobby?”
Bobby nods. “Yup, lift me up.”
Sam catches Dean’s eyes and nods, and the two of them lift upwards. Sam frowns at the utter ease, remembering how hard it was the last few times. Dean turns his head, trying to look at Bobby’s face. “Bobby, you been eatin’ right?” he asks.
Bobby says nothing, staring at his feet instead. Sam feels pinpricks of worry dart through his stomach. “Bobby? You okay?”
“I… my leg…” he mumbles, and Sam looks down.
Both of Bobby’s legs stand straight and tall beneath him, supporting his weight completely. Sam’s mouth goes dry.
“Bobby,” Dean whispers, hoarse, “Bobby… are you… can you…?”
Cautiously, Bobby lifts his leg into the air and wiggles the booted foot back and forth. He sets if back onto the snow and gently eases his arm out from behind Sam’s head. Hesitantly, Sam lets go of his coat and he feels Dean’s hand withdraw from between his and Bobby’s sides. Sam takes a step back, staring as Bobby remains standing without the support of either brother. Then, Bobby takes a step forward, snow crunching beneath his boots. And then another.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby says, voice rough, eyes hidden behind his baseball cap.
Sam smiles, wide and earnest, tears at the corners of his eyes because Bobby can walk again. He looks at Dean and sees that his brother is smiling too, wiping at his eyes. Dean shakes his head, soft, breathy laughter rolling out of him.
“They were filled with awe,” Castiel says suddenly, drawing Sam’s gaze to him, and Castiel folds his hands in front of him before continuing, “and said ‘We have seen remarkable things today.’”
Dean shakes his head again, still smiling. “I don’t know what that’s from.”
Castiel’s lips move into a small smile, head tilting slightly. “It’s from the Gospel of Luke, from one of the passages entailing a miracle performed by Jesus.”
Dean swallows, lips parting. “Did Gabe… Did he do this?”
Castiel looks upward, striding towards Dean. “I believe so.” His eyes take on the same amused glow from before, during the drive, as he turns them on Dean. “Gabriel was always for… theatrics.”
“Hey, Castiel,” Bobby says, voice normal once more. Castiel turns his head to him, and Bobby grins. “Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel says. He turns his eyes briefly on Sam before looking back at Bobby. “Possibly. He may be feeling… embarrassed.”
Dean only snorts, shaking his head. “It seems like any time you dudes do something actually nice, you take off the next second.”
Castiel smiles softly at Dean, and Sam can only shake his head. Bobby, however, claps his hands together.
“C’mon boys,” he says, kicking his wheelchair over, and walks towards the house. “I left the pot-roast in the oven and you three can decorate the Christmas tree.”
Dean places an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and steers him after Bobby. “Let’s go, Cas,” he says, grinning. “I’ll let you put the angel at the top of the tree.”
Sam chuckles and walks after them, throwing his eyes skyward and smiling, wondering if Gabriel was watching them. He hopes so.
--
Dean and Castiel are staring at one another again, in that soul-reading, intimate way that Sam swears would be called public indecency if they’d done it anywhere else. But they’re standing in Bobby’s kitchen, leaning against the sink, in what should be perfect privacy, if not for Sam and his stomach’s midnight desire for another helping of pot-roast.
Sam knows he should tiptoe out of the living room and sneak up upstairs, but he can’t. This Dean-Castiel will-they-won’t-they pine-fest has been the most entertaining thing to happen to him since the beginning of the apocalypse, and even before. To step away now and miss the climax of the affair would kill Sam.
Plus, this kind of dirt only happens once every other millennia. He isn’t going to miss this. He presses tighter to the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, carefully nudging a stack of books away from his feet.
“Gettin’ your peep on, huh?”
Sam flinches, swallowing the yelp that had threatened coming up. He scowls, feeling Gabriel standing mere inches behind him. He glares over his shoulder, meeting the smug smirk he knew would be there.
“Quiet,” he whispers. “You’ll give us away.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Sam. “I think the walls could fall down and they wouldn’t notice,” he mumbles.
Sam snorts softly and leans around the corner again. He feels Gabriel press close against him, and glances down as Gabriel pokes his head from behind his back. Gabriel merely smirks at him, raising his eyebrows, and Sam rolls his eyes and looks back into the kitchen.
Dean and Castiel have inched closer since Sam had last looked, talking in low tones. Dean grins, face more at ease than Sam had seen in a long time. Castiel stands stiff and firm, but his eyes had softened and his mouth was quirked upwards just enough to call it a smile.
Sam sighs, eyes flicking to Gabriel’s. “This is getting ridiculous,” he mumbles.
Gabriel smirks, drawing a hand up. “Watch this,” he whispers, and his fingers snap, but the noise is muffled, or maybe it’s just the memory of the noise in Sam’s head. Gabriel nods his head to the kitchen, and Sam follows his gaze to the ceiling. A vine creeps down from between planks of wood and wraps itself around the rafter, sprouting off tiny green leaves and small white berries as it dangles.
Mistletoe.
A single leaf falls from the plant, seesawing through the air for several seconds before falling perfectly on the tip of Castiel’s nose. Castiel goes completely still, crossing his eyes to look down at it, while Dean leans forward.
“Is… that a leaf?” Dean asks, reaching out and carefully plucking it off of Castiel. They both stare at it for a moment longer before looking upward. Immediately, Dean lets the leaf go, a flush appearing over his face. Castiel tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing.
Dean swallows and looks at Castiel, eyes wider than they had been. “Huh, didn’t notice that before,” he says quickly, gaze darting between the mistletoe and Castiel.
“Dean,” Castiel says, flicking his eyes upwards again, “we are standing beneath mistletoe.”
Dean coughs, wincing. “Sam tell you about that?”
Castiel frowns, dropping his eyes back to Dean’s. “I have watched this world since before the tradition was even formed,” he says. “I am aware of it.”
Dean smiles a bit, awkward, and nods his head to the side. “Of course you are,” he says. He swallows, eyes falling away from Castiel’s face.
The silence stretches for several moments, and Sam wonders if he really is going to have to have Gabriel trap them in a closet together. Even if Dean kills him after.
Then Castiel sighs like he’s deflating, shoulders sagging; his head lowers in a manner that makes Sam think of defeat. “I would not hold you to such a tradition, Dean,” Castiel says at long last.
Dean frowns, brows furrowing. “What?” he asks.
Castiel lifts his head enough to meet Dean’s eyes. “I know you don’t… you aren’t interested…” Castiel winces. Sam has never seen the angel look so uncomfortable. “I know you don’t reciprocate my affections.”
Dean brings up his hands, eyes widening. “Whoa, whoa!” he says. “I feel like I missed a part of the conversation here.” His hands fall to his sides and Dean turns his head and squints at Castiel. “‘Affections’, Cas?”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning. “Yes, Dean,” he says. “I am attracted to you.”
Sam rolls his eyes at the same moment Gabriel huffs against his shoulder, sending goose bumps racing down his arms.
“My brother is the most romantic angel ever,” Gabriel mutters. “Like a Hallmark card, written by a Vulcan.”
Sam nods and pretends not to notice when Gabriel presses closer to him to get a better view of the kitchen.
Dean shakes his head. “By attracted,” he says, slowly, “you mean… physically?”
“My brother,” Sam begins, whispering violently, “is as thick as the Hoover Dam.”
Gabriel snorts in what Sam thinks is agreement.
Castiel turns his head towards the window. “While your body is indeed appealing to the eye-” Dean’s mouth quirks into a smirk- “it isn’t just your physical appearance that I love about you.” Dean goes still, smirk falling off his face, eyes widening in something that could be fear, but Sam thinks might be hope instead. Castiel lifts his hand and, hesitating the whole way, reaches out and grasps Dean’s wrist. Dean stares at their joined hands before lifting his eyes to meet Castiel’s, a dusting of red over his cheeks.
“I love the warmth of your courage,” Castiel begins, earnest and fervid, “and the brightness of your joy. I love the sharpness of your wit, and the sound of your laughter. Though I may curse it, I love how your stubbornness makes you as immobile as mountains.” He ducks his head, looking down at where his thumb is gently caressing Dean’s hand. “I love how you love with all your heart, and I wish that you would leave a little behind for yourself.” His eyes peak up at Dean’s. “That… is what I love about you, Dean. Is why I love you.”
Dean’s lips part, eyes widening. Sam can see his throat convulse, mouth twitching in an attempt to form words, but no noise escapes. Castiel watches him for a second longer before nodding at him, releasing Dean’s wrist and taking a step backward.
Sam lightly punches the wall next to his head. “Dean, don’t be an idiot,” he hisses. “Say something, you emotionally constipated-!”
Dean’s arms shoot forward and he grasps onto the lapels of Castiel’s coat. The angel looks down at them before turning his gaze upon Dean, swallowing heavily. Dean merely tugs on his coat.
“Cas,” Dean says, broken and wrecked and hopeful, and pulls Castiel to him.
Sam has to stop himself from cheering when their lips crash together, Castiel’s hands gripping tight to Dean’s sides while Dean’s bury themselves in Castiel’s hair, their bodies aligning. Heavy breathing and the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing fill the air, and Sam feels the first stirrings of discomfort in his gut.
Gabriel clears his throat behind him. “We should probably-”
He’s interrupted by a low growl that reverberates through the floor and into Sam’s chest. They watch as Castiel pushes Dean against the countertop and lifts him upwards. Dean groans, low in his throat, and he scrabbles his feet against the cupboards to find purchase until he’s sitting on the counter, Castiel standing between his thighs.
Sam squeaks and stumbles backwards because he knows this is about to get ‘gouge-your-eyes-out’-worthy in a moment. Gabriel grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him along. As Sam spins around to gain more control of his flailing limbs, he sees out of the corner of his eye that Dean’s eyes are open and looking in their direction.
And apparently they can’t see him, because Dean never once looks at either of them. Sam’s mind falters over that, but his legs move quickly as Gabriel leads him out of the living room and up the stairs. They stop at the top and Sam takes the moment to look pointedly at Gabriel.
“We were invisible the whole time, weren’t we?”
Gabriel smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Maybe,” he drawls, shrugging.
Sam shakes his head, eyes rolling upwards. “Were you using that as an excuse to grope me?”
Gabriel snorts, grinning at him. “I’ve done a lot of stuff in the past few hours to get into your pants, and it takes me practically climbing on top of you to get it?”
Sam blinks at him, leaning back. He narrows his eyes, stomach flipping. “Did you heal Bobby-?”
“For you?” Gabriel finishes. “Bobby’s a decent enough guy, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only one human here who actually makes me care.”
Sam stares at him. “Me?”
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “No, Dean. Yes, you,” he snaps. He shrugs, looking away. “You turned your back on your family, unleashed Lucifer.” Gabriel turns back to him, eyebrows high. “You’re broken, and wrong, and teetering on the edge.”
Sam frowns, eyes falling to the side. Gabriel snaps his fingers, drawing Sam’s gaze back to him. “And yet,” he says, softly, eyes bright, “you still have hope. You, of all people, still have hope.” Gabriel shrugs, shaking his head helplessly. “You’re inspiring to all of us who fell or… or… jumped off the wagon and are trying to climb back in, Sam. I don’t care if your brother is supposed to save the world.” Gabriel smiles at him. “You’re the fascinating one.”
Sam swallows, trying to find some evidence that this is just one big joke in Gabriel’s face. But Gabriel has the same look as when he’d been talking in the car, of failing and passing tests laid out by God. And maybe Gabriel failed his test, but he’s retaking it, trying to make it better, fix things. And maybe Sam deserves a chance to retake his test, too; a chance to get a passing grade.
Maybe Sam deserves a little happiness, for as long as it lasts.
The last thing Sam sees before he closes his eyes is Gabriel’s smile.
Gabriel tastes like candy canes, eggnog, and holy water.
He tastes like Christmas.
Author: phate_phoenix
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 5x10.
Warnings: Erm… Dean’s a potty-mouth?
Prompt: “Every mile is two in winter.” from spn_gabriel
Word Count: ~7300
Summary: George Herbert says every mile is two in winter. Dean swears every mile is eight with Gabriel. Sam just hopes everyone makes it to Bobby’s in one piece.
Author’s Notes: WHO LIKES ROAD TRIPS? XD The prompt made me think of icy roads. Thus, we have this. XD This is a sequel to ‘ Stopping By’, in that I’m using that as how Gabriel joins Team Winchester. So, yeah. Enjoy!
----
“Yeah, Bobby, yeah,” Dean says into the cell phone, eyes firmly on the white-washed road ahead of them. “Yeah, it was a leviathan. Just like you said, yeah. We got it: you’re awesome, we’re ‘idjits’.” Dean pauses. “No, I’m not mocking you…”
Sam looks out the window and exhales-there’s been nothing but white and flat for about an hour now, basically since they left Devils Lake. The only other color anywhere is the brown splatters of sand on the road to provide traction, which, really, isn’t doing anything for the iciness. There’s a twenty mile-per-hour wind hitting them, sending blasts of pure white across the road, like a sheet that neither he nor Dean can see through. Sam thinks they might be in for a blizzard in the next few minutes.
God, Sam hates winter in North Dakota.
“We’re planning on driving straight to you,” Dean says, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Sam looks at Dean, frowning.
“Dude, there’s a Winter Storm warning in the area,” he grumbles. Dean rolls his eyes.
“What Bobby? Sorry, Samantha’s having a hissy-fit.” Sam scowls at him, and Dean ignores him. “Yeah, yeah, if it gets bad, we’ll stop. We’re gonna break in Grand Forks before we hit the interstate anyway, so if there’s some bad weather coming through we’ll get a room for the night. So, we’ll either be there today, or by Christmas Eve.” Dean smirks, nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ll take it slow. Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He flips the phone closed and tosses it into a cup holder. Dean looks briefly at Sam, smiling. “Bobby’s making ham for Christmas dinner.”
Sam raises his brow at Dean, frowning. “Dean, you’re not driving through a blizzard.”
Dean scoffs, gesturing to the road ahead of them. “It isn’t even that bad yet, Sam. You’re just being paranoid. I see the road perfectly fine.”
“I’m just saying,” Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off.
“And I’m just saying that you should stop clutching your pearls.”
Sam huffs, slouching back in his seat. “How far are we from Grand Forks?” he grouches, glaring at Dean through his bangs.
Dean looks down at the odometer. “We’ve gone about fifty miles,” Dean says. “So… forty-five minutes. Give or take.”
Sam shifts in his seat, crossing his arms. Dean snickers at him.
“Ah, c’mon, Sammy!” he jeers. “I’ve driven through wor-JesusMary’n’Joseph!”
Dean jerks in his seat and the car lurches. Sam’s head snaps up as he feels the Impala shift beneath him, both backwards and left as Dean tries to regain control of the car, but no go-they slide across the (thankfully) empty road and continue down into the ditch. There is no rest or pause-their momentum carries them over, and Sam can feel the car tilting and the world suddenly changes around him-items in the trunk are clunking loudly as Sam braces himself against the dashboard as up becomes sideways and-
They’re still once more, and up is up and down is down and gravity is pulling at Sam’s ass instead of his side. Ahead of them is the road-they’ve somehow ended up on the shoulder instead of a snow bank. He takes several gasping breaths, hands still pressed against the dashboard, and looks over at Dean, ready to bitch an ‘I told you so, jackass’ at him. Dean, however, is clenching the steering wheel tightly and glaring at the rearview mirror like he wants to murder it, which makes Sam turn his head to the back.
Oh.
In the backseat, Gabriel lounges directly behind Sam, looking out the window and tapping his fingers across the door. Castiel, meanwhile, is bracing himself against the roof of the car and the cushion beside him. He blinks owlishly at Dean’s reflection for several moments.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel says, and moves his hands to his knees.
Sam swallows loudly, peeling his hands away from the dashboard. They quiver as he sets them in his lap.
Dean, however, nearly punches the top of the stereo before he jerkily slows and instead sets his fisted hand down gently. He glares through the windshield. “You stupid sons of bitches-”
Gabriel leans slightly to look at Sam. “Are we leaving soon?” he asks, stretching his arms out lazily. “It’s been a long flight.”
“Now wait a minute!” Dean snarls, spinning around in his seat. “You almost made me crash my car!”
Gabriel turns to Dean, eyebrows raised. “Actually, you did crash your car,” he says, and Dean stills, mouth tightening and fingers digging into the leather seat. Gabriel rolls his eyes. “But I fixed everything, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Sam looks around the car and finds that everything is indeed in place-even Dean’s cell phone is still sitting in the cup holder, at the exact same position it had been before. Dean’s eyes narrow further.
“What do you mean,” he says, slowly, “you fixed my car?”
Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “I… fixed it,” he says. “What other meaning could that possibly have?”
Dean glares, leaning as close as his seatbelt will allow. “What the hell did you do to her?!”
Gabriel looks at the car door and strokes one finger down it. “Nothing,” Gabriel says. “I sent us back in time ten seconds, however.”
Dean stares at him before glaring at Castiel. “I expected you to keep a leash on him, Cas!”
Castiel stares back, eyes narrowing slightly. “He is an archangel, Dean,” he says earnestly. Sam levels Dean with his own glare. Dean scowls, turning back around in his seat.
“Alright, new car rule!” he growls. “When someone is driving on an icy road, you don’t fucking pop into the back seat!”
Castiel’s brows furrow slightly before he nods solemnly. Gabriel scoffs, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.
“If you weren’t so skittish,” he quips, “you wouldn’t have these problems.”
Dean jerks to look over his shoulder. “If I wasn’t so-?!”
Sam slouches back into his chair, just glad that they aren’t going to die. “Dean… let it go. He can turn you into a gerbil.”
Gabriel frowns. “Gerbils are boring,” he says. Then he squints at the driver’s seat. “Do you think the seat could fit a reindeer?”
“No,” Castiel says at once, looking at Gabriel. Then his head tilts to the side. “Unless he was a very young calf.”
Sam snorts, looking away while Dean starts the car. “Fuck you all,” Dean declares, and pulls back onto the road.
--
“So,” Gabriel begins, stirring his cup of peppermint cocoa, “you slew the mighty leviathan?”
Sam nods, sipping at his coffee. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t so… mighty.”
They’ve stopped at a local café-restaurant, just off of Interstate-29 called ‘The Roadhouse Café’. They almost didn’t, with Ellen and Jo’s deaths still raw and painful, but being a hunter means you move on. So they do.
Sam’s a little glad they did, actually. Besides the cheap food, television, and pleasant waitresses, they have free internet.
He browses through the weather forecast online. “It was kinda small, actually. Well, compared to the legends, anyway…”
Sam looks up as Gabriel snorts, pouring chocolate syrup over his pancakes. “We’ve told you guys time and time again: your bible is so wrong on some things. It’s pretty funny.”
Sam stares at the small glass container of chocolate syrup. He lifts his gaze to Gabriel. “They don’t have chocolate syrup here.”
Gabriel smirks, eyebrows wiggling. “Nope.”
Sam nods, glancing at his own empty plate. “Anyway,” he says, wondering when he’d become so used to Gabriel magicking stuff from nowhere, “it was about the size of a manatee. But with a longer neck and sharper teeth. Oh, and it sneezed fire.”
Gabriel snorts, spearing a few pieces of pancake on his fork and putting them in his mouth. “Hellbeasts are interesting little creatures,” he says around his mouthful of food. He swallows and smirks. “Lucifer got creative in Hell.”
“I guess you could call it that,” Sam mumbles, turning back to the forecast.
“So?” Gabriel drawls, leaning over the table to look at the laptop screen. “Are we looking at certain death?”
Sam sighs, closing the laptop, and shrugs at Gabriel. “We should be fine,” he says. Then he levels Gabriel with his patented bitchface. “As long as you don’t cause Dean to flip out at the wheel again.”
Gabriel scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No more causing Dean to crash the car. Got it.” He then looks over where Dean and Castiel are sitting and smirks. “If Dean crashes because he’s too busy staring at Castiel, though, that’s not my fault.”
Sam glances at them and sighs. He drains his coffee and leans forward, muttering, “I’m this close to locking them in a closet somewhere.”
Gabriel looks back at him, raising his eyebrows and grinning. Sam winces and leans back, shaking his head. “Dude, just… no.”
Gabriel leans back, mouth quirking and brows furrowing. A ‘Why the hell not?’ face if Sam ever saw one.
“Because Dean will kick the door down first off, or hurt himself trying to,” Sam says, lifting a finger, “and two,” he raises another, “Dean will know it was you, and then he’ll blame me for it.”
That had become the norm-Gabriel does something to Dean, Dean blames Sam.
Gabriel smirks, shrugging and stuffing the last of his pancake into his mouth. “You should stop giving me these awesome ideas,” he says and drops his fork onto his plate with a clatter.
Sam wonders when he got the power of suggestion over the manic archangel in their group. Instead of glaring futilely at Gabriel, he pushes himself to his feet and slides his laptop into his backpack. Gabriel leans back to sip his cocoa as Sam pulls his winter jacket on. Sam slings his backpack over one shoulder and looks over at where Dean and Castiel sit, watching Dean struggle to withhold a grin as Castiel inspects the Styrofoam cup placed in front of him.
“C’mon, Cas,” Dean says as Sam walks over to them, “this is hot chocolate. You’ll like this.”
Castiel turns suspicious eyes on Dean. “You said that about coffee.”
Dean shrugs, leaning back. “Hey, I apologized about that. This is different. You like chocolate, remember?”
Castiel’s eyes narrow before he looks back down at his cup. Slowly, he reaches out and grabs it and lifts it to his lips. Dean straightens, eyebrows rising, and leans forward a bit. Castiel tilts the cup and takes a single gulp, and then pulls it away from his mouth. His brows furrow, cheeks pushed out slightly, and he looks back at the cup. He swallows loudly, frowning.
Dean grins. “And…?”
Castiel looks up, face serious. “I believe I like hot chocolate, Dean.”
Dean smiles, honest and wide, and it makes Sam’s chest ache. “Alright! Y’see? You shouldn’t doubt me, Cas.”
Castiel’s eyes narrow and he leans forward. “I have never doubted you, Dean, and I never will.”
Dean swallows and ducks his head to the side. “Ah, right,” he mumbles.
Sam waits until Dean catches sight of him and then he smirks. Dean frowns at him, bewildered.
“What?”
Sam shrugs, still smirking. “Nothing, just,” he flicks his eyes between Dean and Castiel, “you’re really cute together.”
Dean blinks and then scowls, pushing himself to his feet. “Ha-ha,” he grumps, snatching up his coat. “You’re utterly hilarious, Sam,” he says, slouching past Sam and towards the exit. Castiel rises to his feet and stalks after him, clutching his cup of cocoa to his chest. Sam blinks after them, lifting his free hand into the air.
“Ah, Dean?” he calls and Dean pauses at the exit, looking over and lifting an eyebrow. Sam gestures at the dirty table beside him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Dean’s eyes widen and he smiles. “Oh, you’re right!” He turns to their waitress as she walks by. “Uh, ma’am,” he says and she pauses to look at him. Dean smiles winningly at her. “My brother’s table and I are together. He’s paying.”
“What!” Sam yelps as Dean laughs his way out the door, Castiel a half-step behind. “Dean!”
The waitress plants her hands on her hips before turning to face Sam. “Do you want me to bring him back?”
Sam sighs, shaking his head. “No, just… I’ve got it.”
The waitress glances at him before shrugging and walking to her other booths. Sam rolls his eyes and pats at his pockets to find his wallet.
“Hey,” Gabriel says, walking over to him, “I’ve already got it.”
Sam frowns. “Already…?” He looks first at his table and then his brother’s and sees that there is, indeed, money lying at their centers. Sam blinks and turns back to Gabriel. “Thanks,” he says. A part of him wonders what will happen to the money, if it’ll just disappear one day, but doesn’t say anything about it-is it really any different from credit card scams?
Gabriel shrugs and steps past Sam and towards the door. “Don’t mention it,” he says over his shoulder, and steps out of the building and into the cold. Sam shakes his head, smiling, and follows after.
It isn’t snowing, thankfully, but Sam wishes it were far warmer than negative-two-degrees-Fahrenheit. The clear sky and bright sunlight was deceptive, and he pulls his hands into his sleeves. Gabriel watches him for a moment, unaffected by the temperature due to his angel-mojo instead of his inappropriate green sports jacket. Sam glowers at him and pulls his arms in tighter, ignoring Gabriel’s snickers as they approach the car, where Dean and Castiel are waiting.
“Hey,” Dean’s saying as they come closer, “you sure you’re not cold? I mean, you’re wearing a rain coat.”
Castiel stares at his coat for a moment before lifting his gaze. “I am fine, Dean,” he says. “But my hot chocolate is now lukewarm chocolate.”
Dean closes his eyes briefly before he shakes his head. “Right, right,” he mumbles before spying Sam and Gabriel coming towards them.
Sam frowns. “Dean, what are you doing?”
Dean smirks. “Laying down the law.”
“Dean, I’m cold and my fingers are frozen. I want to go into the car.”
Dean waves him off. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, and Castiel’s eyes narrow. Dean glances at him before turning to Gabriel. “From here until we get to Bobby’s, there will be no more porting in or out of my baby.”
Castiel’s head tilts to the side, brows furrowing. Dean sighs, looking at him. “What I mean is, if you’re riding with us, you get in this car now and you stay in the car until we get to Bobby’s. No flying off or whatever whenever you want.”
Castiel frowns and looks at the backseat of the car. Gabriel sighs, crossing his arms.
“How long is the drive?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Dean looks back at Gabriel. “Uh, about five-and-a-half-hours.”
Gabriel bobs his head from side to side before looking at Sam. “Fine,” he says, and walks around the trunk of the car. Dean stares at him, dumbstruck.
“Wait, ‘fine’?!” he says, leaning over the roof of the Impala. “But… I mean… I swear I’ll draw some angel-proofing sigils on the roof of my car.”
Gabriel glances at Castiel before smiling at Dean. “Sure you will,” he says before opening the car door and slipping into the passenger-side backseat.
Castiel glances at Dean before pulling open his door and sliding inside. Sam rolls his eyes at Dean as he walks around him.
“What?” Dean says as he climbs into the car. Sam gets into the car as well, studiously ignoring Dean. Dean grumbles under his breath before turning on the car and blasting the heat through the ducts. Gabriel snickers from the backseat.
“Please keep all hands and wings inside the vehicle at all times, until we’ve come to a complete stop.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Dean says, smiling bitterly at Sam. “I can just tell.”
--
“So, Castiel,” Sam says, somewhat desperately after an hour-and-a-half passes in complete silence, “where did you and Gabriel head to yesterday?”
Castiel looks away from the rearview mirror and stares at Sam. “It was Gabriel’s turn to choose,” he says.
Dean snorts, eyes flicking up to the mirror. “Where’d he take you? Vegas?”
Castiel blinks back at the reflection. “Yes.”
Dean stares at him through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road. “Oh,” he says, nose flaring. “Awesome.”
Gabriel smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “It was,” he says. “It’s easy to play blackjack when you can read minds.”
Sam stares at him. “Blackjack?”
Castiel nods, eyes narrowing at Gabriel. “He told me he was going to search the tables for our Father.”
Gabriel turns to Castiel, pouting out his lips. “Hey, I did look.” His lips immediately turn in a grin and he waggles his eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun on the side.”
Castiel frowns, eyes narrowing. “Your priorities are misplaced, then, as the search for God seems less important than… indulging.”
“My priorities?!” Gabriel says, exasperated. “Why don’t you tell them what happened right before we left?”
Castiel shifts awkwardly in his seat, glancing all around the backseat of the car. His hands fold together in his lap, and Sam can’t help but be reminded of a little boy who’s done something wrong and knows they’re going to be yelled at for it.
“Cas?”
Sam looks at Dean, whose own brow has furrowed into something like concern. Castiel lifts his gaze briefly to the mirror.
“There… was a bachelorette party enjoying the bar at the casino we were searching,” he begins, slowly, head bowed slightly and eyes dropped to the side. “They were quite intoxicated, and boisterous.”
A low, creaking noise rolls through the air, and Sam jerks his head around. Dean’s hands clutch tighter and tighter to the leather steering wheel, lips pressed into a thin line. Sam turns around in his seat and looks back at Gabriel, whose eyebrows have risen again and head tilts slightly to the side as he stares at Dean. His eyes slowly make contact with Sam’s, and he smirks.
Sam can’t help the amazed grin that appears on his face-Gabriel planned this, the dickhead.
Castiel, however, continues to admire his shoes. Gabriel leans back into his seat.
“Boistrous is one word,” he says. “Not the one I’d use. Eager, maybe.” Sam sees Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye. “Horny, definitely.”
Dean’s eyes narrow, but remain on the road. “Cas, what’s that mean?”
Castiel looks into the mirror, eyes wide.
“Gabriel and I were invited to partake in an orgy.”
The car jerks suddenly, and Sam smacks his head against Dean’s seat. “Ow! Dean, what the hell?!” he snaps, pressing a hand to his forehead, and glares at his brother.
Dean clears his throat, eyes twitching from Sam, to the rearview mirror, back to the road. “Black ice,” he grunts, slouching into his seat.
Gabriel cackles, nudging Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. “That’s not the best part,” he chirps. He leans forward in his seat, poking his head between Dean and Sam. “He told them, and I quote, ‘Dean would not like it if I were to join you.’ Can you believe him? I went to Vegas with the fricking Virgin Mary.” He pauses. “No, Mary would have been more fun. Trust me, I knew her.”
Sam’s eyebrows jump upward immediately, and he blinks. Gabriel grins, falling back against his seat. Castiel frowns at him before looking at Sam, confusion evident on his face. Dean-
Dean’s face loses the pinched, almost pained, expression that had appeared the moment Castiel had started to talk about Vegas. He grins at the rearview mirror, an eyebrow rising.
“That so, Cas?” Dean asks, and smiles, turning his eyes on the road again. “What else did I say?”
Castiel’s eyes brighten before narrowing, and his mouth curls into a smile that Sam has never seen before, and, if he didn’t know better, he’d say it was mischievous.
“Do not order off the menu.”
Sam breaks into a started chuckle while Gabriel coughs and snorts. Dean, however, bursts into helpless laughter, thumping his hand against the steering wheel. Castiel sits in the back of the car, looking as smug as Sam has ever seen him. Sam figures he’s earned it, though, for making Dean laugh so hard.
--
“Dude, we really have to pull over soon.”
“Ah, c’mon, Sammy! Two hours until we get to Sioux Falls! Can’t your bladder wait until then?”
“Dean, I told you, like, an hour ago that I had to go. You said we’d stop at the next rest stop. You passed four.”
“So? That just proves you can hold it a bit longer.”
“Dean, my eyeballs are floating. Stop at the next rest stop or I’m just going to pee in this cup.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I will!”
“Oh, hey, Sam! What’s that just ahead?”
“Dean, don’t you dare-”
“Could that be a rest stop I see?”
“Dean, I swear I’ll do it.”
“Quick everyone, wave as we pass it by!”
“…”
“…Sam, what are you doing?”
“…”
“Dude! Not in the car!”
“…”
“Fine, fine! I’m turning around, you sicko!”
“Heh. How easy was that?”
“…Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
--
“And I mean,” Gabriel says, leaning forward and poking his head between the two front seats again, “this guy is a real sick fuck. Tied towels to cats, lit them on fire, and watched as the cats tried to out run the flames.”
Dean’s eyes are twitching between the windshield and Gabriel, eyebrows high on his forehead. “So what’d you do?”
Gabriel smirks, wicked and sharp. “I turned him into a mouse and dropped him in a back alleyway.”
Dean shakes his head, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Gabe, man,” he says, “the stuff you did…”
Gabriel scowls at the nickname but says nothing about it. “Yeah, well, now that I’m on Team Morality, I’ve had to hang up my ‘Kiss the Smiter’ apron.”
Sam frowns at him. “Then why did you team up with us? You could have joined up with the angels and continued doing it.”
Dean glares at him. “Hey, Sam, how about we don’t talk the archangel out of helping us?”
Sam frowns. “I’m not. He could have if he wanted to, and he knows that. I’m just… curious about why he chose us.” He pauses, nodding his head to the side. “Aside from the fact that we’re less likely to gank him.”
Gabriel snorts. “Well, there is that,” he says. He looks out his window, squinting at the passing snow drifts. “As tired as I am of the fighting, of my family killing each other, of God not being here anymore…” He trails off, turning to look at Castiel. “I don’t think we’re meant to sound the trumpets just yet. I think… this was a test. A test for the angels, though, instead of you humans.” He smirks humorlessly, looking at Sam. “I think we’re all failing. Well,” he pauses, and turns to his brother again, “except for Castiel.”
Castiel blinks and bows his head, but there is unmistakable joy in his eyes at the praise. “I… thank you.”
Sam’s brows furrow. “But… you’re doing what Castiel’s doing. How can you be failing, too?”
Gabriel snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m basically cheating off of Castiel’s paper, Sam. Besides, I took off when things got tough, ‘went pagan’, as you said. Gonna get some points off for that,” he says, grinning. “But maybe you’re right. Better late than never, huh?”
Sam smiles back, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he says, “better late than never.”
“Speaking of better late than never,” Dean drawls, turning the car onto what Sam can immediately recognize as Bobby’s junkyard property, even under several inches of snow, “we’ve arrived at our destination.”
Sam sits up straighter, catching sight of Bobby’s house through the piles of cars and heaps of metal dotted around the snow-covered landscape. Dean pulls the Impala into its usual spot just as Bobby rolls out of his house and onto the snow.
“Bobby!” Dean calls as he slides out of the car, smiling. “We made it in one piece!”
Bobby smiles back at him. “Good to hear that, boy,” he says, leaning in his chair to peer at the car. Sam steps out a moment later, grinning.
“Hey Bobby,” he says, and looks down at the wheelchair as he comes to stand beside Dean. “Did you put… chains on your wheels?”
Bobby smirks, flicking a bit of the chain on his tire. “Helps with the traction around here,” he says, gesturing to the snow under foot. He glances at the car as the two angels step out of it, and he turns to Dean. “You drove here with two angels in your backseat?” he drawls.
Dean just smirks. “Why do you think I was so impressed we made it here at all?”
Bobby nods, eyebrows rising. “I get it now.”
“Did you…”
Sam turns his head towards Castiel’s voice, and sees him staring at the ground. Gabriel makes an amused, startled noise as he walks next to him. He raises his eyes and smirks at Bobby.
“You turned the snow into holy water, didn’t you?”
Dean jolts and looks down at his feet. “You can do that?”
Bobby shrugs. “Freeze some holy water, powder it, and spread it around,” he says. “It’s pretty easy.”
Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s… brilliant.”
Bobby raises an eyebrow at him. “Of course it is,” he says, turning slowly to look at Gabriel. He frowns. “So, you’re Gabriel.”
Gabriel grins, shrugging. “I know, I know, I look way better in person, right?”
Bobby scowls. “Anyone gets any STDs, mind-whammied, or transformed into furniture, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Hey,” Gabriel says, “I’m clean. Any STDs won’t be from me.” Then his grin turns into a full-fledged smile. “I like you,” he says, nodding. He tilts his head to the side, squinting. “I tried to kill you with a chainsaw-wielding cannibal, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Something’s different about you.” His eyebrows rise as he leans his head back. “Oh,” he drawls, snapping his fingers, “that’s right.” He points at Bobby. “You were bipedal back then, right?”
Sam flinches, shooting Gabriel a glare, while Dean stiffens beside him. Castiel’s eyes widen frantically and he places a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. Bobby remains utterly motionless.
“Glad to see your angel memory is working properly,” Bobby grunts, sitting back in his chair further.
Gabriel rolls his eyes, trudging out from under Castiel’s hand and forward. “Why don’t you stop being so lazy, old man,” he says, stopping in front of Bobby, “and go put the chair away?”
Dean snarls, bristling in rage beside Sam. “You slimy son-of-a-”
Gabriel reaches out and places a hand on Bobby’s head, and Dean lunges forward. Sam catches him, placing his arms around him and holding him in place. “Dean!” he says.
“What the Hell?! Damn it, Sam! Lemme go!”
Sam feels his breath stutter in his throat, because he knows Gabriel, and Gabriel wouldn’t hurt them. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Sam knows this, because Gabriel is part of their group. Because Gabriel wants to pass this test.
Because he trusts Gabriel.
Gabriel looks over his shoulder for a single moment, and Sam catches his gaze. Then Gabriel snorts, nodding his head, and walks past Bobby, his hand slipping off his head. He glances back at them and smirks. “Get up, take your chair, and go home.”
With the sound of fluttering wings, Gabriel disappears.
Bobby stares straight ahead for a long moment, and Dean rushes forward, roughly jerking himself from Sam’s grip. “Bobby!” he calls, sliding onto his knees and placing his hands on Bobby’s still arms. “Bobby, what’d he do to you?”
Bobby blinks, moving his gaze to Dean’s. “He…” he begins before stopping, dropping his eyes to his lap, and shakes his head. Sam watches as Bobby entwines his arms with Dean’s, a small scowl appearing on his face. “Nothin’, I’m fine,” he says. “Quit babyin’ me. I’m in a wheelchair, not a stroller.”
“What?” Dean says, leaning back. “Oh, right.” He pushes himself away from Bobby’s wheelchair and stumbles to his feet. As he wipes at his knees, Sam slowly walks around him and towards Bobby.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare Dean throws over his shoulder at him.
Bobby huffs, looking down at his chair. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, “but the bastard did a number on my tires.”
Sam leans sideways, and blinks: the wheels have been squished, making them more oval instead of circular. Dean swears under his breath.
“Why the hell did we bring him along?” Dean snaps, crouching down and rubbing a finger over the misshapen tires.
Sam shakes his head. “I don’t get it,” he mumbles. “He’s been with us for over a month. If he was going to do something nefarious, don’t you think he would have done something more than… mess with Bobby’s wheelchair?”
“Hell if I know,” Dean growls. “I didn’t spend all of my time with the douchebag.”
Sam grits his teeth, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Gabriel’s been a big help to us, Dean. I’m only saying that it doesn’t make sense.”
Dean snorts bitterly at him, pushing himself to his feet. He looks over at Castiel. “Cas, any idea what the hell Gabe’s plan is?”
Castiel remains silent for a minute, eyes lingering on Bobby before turning to Sam. His head tilts, eyes narrowing, and Sam shuffles uncomfortably under his stare. Finally, he looks to Dean, face completely blank.
“It’s cold outside,” he says. Dean’s brow furrows, and Castiel glances at the front door before looking back at Dean. “We should go inside if we are to discuss this further.”
Bobby snorts, frowning. “Featherbrain’s right,” he says, leaning forward in his chair. “Help me into the house before my ass freezes to the seat.”
Sam nods and bends down gripping one of Bobby’s arms and pulling it over his shoulder, grasping the other side of Bobby’s jacket. He sees Dean follow suit on the other side, wrapping Bobby’s arm around his shoulder and gripping Sam’s side of Bobby’s jacket. Sam grunts at the position before tilting his head towards Bobby. “You all set, Bobby?”
Bobby nods. “Yup, lift me up.”
Sam catches Dean’s eyes and nods, and the two of them lift upwards. Sam frowns at the utter ease, remembering how hard it was the last few times. Dean turns his head, trying to look at Bobby’s face. “Bobby, you been eatin’ right?” he asks.
Bobby says nothing, staring at his feet instead. Sam feels pinpricks of worry dart through his stomach. “Bobby? You okay?”
“I… my leg…” he mumbles, and Sam looks down.
Both of Bobby’s legs stand straight and tall beneath him, supporting his weight completely. Sam’s mouth goes dry.
“Bobby,” Dean whispers, hoarse, “Bobby… are you… can you…?”
Cautiously, Bobby lifts his leg into the air and wiggles the booted foot back and forth. He sets if back onto the snow and gently eases his arm out from behind Sam’s head. Hesitantly, Sam lets go of his coat and he feels Dean’s hand withdraw from between his and Bobby’s sides. Sam takes a step back, staring as Bobby remains standing without the support of either brother. Then, Bobby takes a step forward, snow crunching beneath his boots. And then another.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby says, voice rough, eyes hidden behind his baseball cap.
Sam smiles, wide and earnest, tears at the corners of his eyes because Bobby can walk again. He looks at Dean and sees that his brother is smiling too, wiping at his eyes. Dean shakes his head, soft, breathy laughter rolling out of him.
“They were filled with awe,” Castiel says suddenly, drawing Sam’s gaze to him, and Castiel folds his hands in front of him before continuing, “and said ‘We have seen remarkable things today.’”
Dean shakes his head again, still smiling. “I don’t know what that’s from.”
Castiel’s lips move into a small smile, head tilting slightly. “It’s from the Gospel of Luke, from one of the passages entailing a miracle performed by Jesus.”
Dean swallows, lips parting. “Did Gabe… Did he do this?”
Castiel looks upward, striding towards Dean. “I believe so.” His eyes take on the same amused glow from before, during the drive, as he turns them on Dean. “Gabriel was always for… theatrics.”
“Hey, Castiel,” Bobby says, voice normal once more. Castiel turns his head to him, and Bobby grins. “Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel says. He turns his eyes briefly on Sam before looking back at Bobby. “Possibly. He may be feeling… embarrassed.”
Dean only snorts, shaking his head. “It seems like any time you dudes do something actually nice, you take off the next second.”
Castiel smiles softly at Dean, and Sam can only shake his head. Bobby, however, claps his hands together.
“C’mon boys,” he says, kicking his wheelchair over, and walks towards the house. “I left the pot-roast in the oven and you three can decorate the Christmas tree.”
Dean places an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and steers him after Bobby. “Let’s go, Cas,” he says, grinning. “I’ll let you put the angel at the top of the tree.”
Sam chuckles and walks after them, throwing his eyes skyward and smiling, wondering if Gabriel was watching them. He hopes so.
--
Dean and Castiel are staring at one another again, in that soul-reading, intimate way that Sam swears would be called public indecency if they’d done it anywhere else. But they’re standing in Bobby’s kitchen, leaning against the sink, in what should be perfect privacy, if not for Sam and his stomach’s midnight desire for another helping of pot-roast.
Sam knows he should tiptoe out of the living room and sneak up upstairs, but he can’t. This Dean-Castiel will-they-won’t-they pine-fest has been the most entertaining thing to happen to him since the beginning of the apocalypse, and even before. To step away now and miss the climax of the affair would kill Sam.
Plus, this kind of dirt only happens once every other millennia. He isn’t going to miss this. He presses tighter to the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, carefully nudging a stack of books away from his feet.
“Gettin’ your peep on, huh?”
Sam flinches, swallowing the yelp that had threatened coming up. He scowls, feeling Gabriel standing mere inches behind him. He glares over his shoulder, meeting the smug smirk he knew would be there.
“Quiet,” he whispers. “You’ll give us away.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Sam. “I think the walls could fall down and they wouldn’t notice,” he mumbles.
Sam snorts softly and leans around the corner again. He feels Gabriel press close against him, and glances down as Gabriel pokes his head from behind his back. Gabriel merely smirks at him, raising his eyebrows, and Sam rolls his eyes and looks back into the kitchen.
Dean and Castiel have inched closer since Sam had last looked, talking in low tones. Dean grins, face more at ease than Sam had seen in a long time. Castiel stands stiff and firm, but his eyes had softened and his mouth was quirked upwards just enough to call it a smile.
Sam sighs, eyes flicking to Gabriel’s. “This is getting ridiculous,” he mumbles.
Gabriel smirks, drawing a hand up. “Watch this,” he whispers, and his fingers snap, but the noise is muffled, or maybe it’s just the memory of the noise in Sam’s head. Gabriel nods his head to the kitchen, and Sam follows his gaze to the ceiling. A vine creeps down from between planks of wood and wraps itself around the rafter, sprouting off tiny green leaves and small white berries as it dangles.
Mistletoe.
A single leaf falls from the plant, seesawing through the air for several seconds before falling perfectly on the tip of Castiel’s nose. Castiel goes completely still, crossing his eyes to look down at it, while Dean leans forward.
“Is… that a leaf?” Dean asks, reaching out and carefully plucking it off of Castiel. They both stare at it for a moment longer before looking upward. Immediately, Dean lets the leaf go, a flush appearing over his face. Castiel tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing.
Dean swallows and looks at Castiel, eyes wider than they had been. “Huh, didn’t notice that before,” he says quickly, gaze darting between the mistletoe and Castiel.
“Dean,” Castiel says, flicking his eyes upwards again, “we are standing beneath mistletoe.”
Dean coughs, wincing. “Sam tell you about that?”
Castiel frowns, dropping his eyes back to Dean’s. “I have watched this world since before the tradition was even formed,” he says. “I am aware of it.”
Dean smiles a bit, awkward, and nods his head to the side. “Of course you are,” he says. He swallows, eyes falling away from Castiel’s face.
The silence stretches for several moments, and Sam wonders if he really is going to have to have Gabriel trap them in a closet together. Even if Dean kills him after.
Then Castiel sighs like he’s deflating, shoulders sagging; his head lowers in a manner that makes Sam think of defeat. “I would not hold you to such a tradition, Dean,” Castiel says at long last.
Dean frowns, brows furrowing. “What?” he asks.
Castiel lifts his head enough to meet Dean’s eyes. “I know you don’t… you aren’t interested…” Castiel winces. Sam has never seen the angel look so uncomfortable. “I know you don’t reciprocate my affections.”
Dean brings up his hands, eyes widening. “Whoa, whoa!” he says. “I feel like I missed a part of the conversation here.” His hands fall to his sides and Dean turns his head and squints at Castiel. “‘Affections’, Cas?”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning. “Yes, Dean,” he says. “I am attracted to you.”
Sam rolls his eyes at the same moment Gabriel huffs against his shoulder, sending goose bumps racing down his arms.
“My brother is the most romantic angel ever,” Gabriel mutters. “Like a Hallmark card, written by a Vulcan.”
Sam nods and pretends not to notice when Gabriel presses closer to him to get a better view of the kitchen.
Dean shakes his head. “By attracted,” he says, slowly, “you mean… physically?”
“My brother,” Sam begins, whispering violently, “is as thick as the Hoover Dam.”
Gabriel snorts in what Sam thinks is agreement.
Castiel turns his head towards the window. “While your body is indeed appealing to the eye-” Dean’s mouth quirks into a smirk- “it isn’t just your physical appearance that I love about you.” Dean goes still, smirk falling off his face, eyes widening in something that could be fear, but Sam thinks might be hope instead. Castiel lifts his hand and, hesitating the whole way, reaches out and grasps Dean’s wrist. Dean stares at their joined hands before lifting his eyes to meet Castiel’s, a dusting of red over his cheeks.
“I love the warmth of your courage,” Castiel begins, earnest and fervid, “and the brightness of your joy. I love the sharpness of your wit, and the sound of your laughter. Though I may curse it, I love how your stubbornness makes you as immobile as mountains.” He ducks his head, looking down at where his thumb is gently caressing Dean’s hand. “I love how you love with all your heart, and I wish that you would leave a little behind for yourself.” His eyes peak up at Dean’s. “That… is what I love about you, Dean. Is why I love you.”
Dean’s lips part, eyes widening. Sam can see his throat convulse, mouth twitching in an attempt to form words, but no noise escapes. Castiel watches him for a second longer before nodding at him, releasing Dean’s wrist and taking a step backward.
Sam lightly punches the wall next to his head. “Dean, don’t be an idiot,” he hisses. “Say something, you emotionally constipated-!”
Dean’s arms shoot forward and he grasps onto the lapels of Castiel’s coat. The angel looks down at them before turning his gaze upon Dean, swallowing heavily. Dean merely tugs on his coat.
“Cas,” Dean says, broken and wrecked and hopeful, and pulls Castiel to him.
Sam has to stop himself from cheering when their lips crash together, Castiel’s hands gripping tight to Dean’s sides while Dean’s bury themselves in Castiel’s hair, their bodies aligning. Heavy breathing and the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing fill the air, and Sam feels the first stirrings of discomfort in his gut.
Gabriel clears his throat behind him. “We should probably-”
He’s interrupted by a low growl that reverberates through the floor and into Sam’s chest. They watch as Castiel pushes Dean against the countertop and lifts him upwards. Dean groans, low in his throat, and he scrabbles his feet against the cupboards to find purchase until he’s sitting on the counter, Castiel standing between his thighs.
Sam squeaks and stumbles backwards because he knows this is about to get ‘gouge-your-eyes-out’-worthy in a moment. Gabriel grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him along. As Sam spins around to gain more control of his flailing limbs, he sees out of the corner of his eye that Dean’s eyes are open and looking in their direction.
And apparently they can’t see him, because Dean never once looks at either of them. Sam’s mind falters over that, but his legs move quickly as Gabriel leads him out of the living room and up the stairs. They stop at the top and Sam takes the moment to look pointedly at Gabriel.
“We were invisible the whole time, weren’t we?”
Gabriel smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Maybe,” he drawls, shrugging.
Sam shakes his head, eyes rolling upwards. “Were you using that as an excuse to grope me?”
Gabriel snorts, grinning at him. “I’ve done a lot of stuff in the past few hours to get into your pants, and it takes me practically climbing on top of you to get it?”
Sam blinks at him, leaning back. He narrows his eyes, stomach flipping. “Did you heal Bobby-?”
“For you?” Gabriel finishes. “Bobby’s a decent enough guy, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only one human here who actually makes me care.”
Sam stares at him. “Me?”
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “No, Dean. Yes, you,” he snaps. He shrugs, looking away. “You turned your back on your family, unleashed Lucifer.” Gabriel turns back to him, eyebrows high. “You’re broken, and wrong, and teetering on the edge.”
Sam frowns, eyes falling to the side. Gabriel snaps his fingers, drawing Sam’s gaze back to him. “And yet,” he says, softly, eyes bright, “you still have hope. You, of all people, still have hope.” Gabriel shrugs, shaking his head helplessly. “You’re inspiring to all of us who fell or… or… jumped off the wagon and are trying to climb back in, Sam. I don’t care if your brother is supposed to save the world.” Gabriel smiles at him. “You’re the fascinating one.”
Sam swallows, trying to find some evidence that this is just one big joke in Gabriel’s face. But Gabriel has the same look as when he’d been talking in the car, of failing and passing tests laid out by God. And maybe Gabriel failed his test, but he’s retaking it, trying to make it better, fix things. And maybe Sam deserves a chance to retake his test, too; a chance to get a passing grade.
Maybe Sam deserves a little happiness, for as long as it lasts.
The last thing Sam sees before he closes his eyes is Gabriel’s smile.
Gabriel tastes like candy canes, eggnog, and holy water.
He tastes like Christmas.