Debriel_Mini Fic: Don't Ever Look Back [Part 2/3]
Don't Ever Look Back, Part Two (PG-13), Dean/Gabriel
Go Back to Part One
“Why hello, Mister Head Boy,” Gabriel grins, staring at Dean’s red and gold Head Boy badge.
“Yeah, I never get sick of that.” Dean rolls his eyes. He grins back, though, so Gabriel knows it’s teasing.
“Gabe.” Dean gestures to a short, beautiful raven haired beauty with pale skin. “This is Tessa. She’s in Ravenclaw, and she’s Head Girl.”
“Hey.” The Slytherin grins flirtatiously, “You know, I’m a lot more fun than that arsehole that you call Head Boy.”
“I would bet,” Tessa says dryly. She’s somehow warm and inviting yet untouchable and powerful at the exact same time. “You know, I’ve heard of you. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin being friends isn’t exactly common around here.”
“We’re the founders of a new era,” Gabriel boasts, grinning.
“Right.” Tessa smiles, turns to Dean, “We need to go to the Prefect’s carriage. You know, tell them what to do.”
“My kind of work,” Dean grins. He waves goodbye to Gabriel and follows Tessa into the Prefect’s carriage. Gabriel takes that as the cue to find his own place to stay.
He chooses the cart with Sam Winchester in it.
Sam Winchester is a little taller than before, but he’s still a short, petulant thirteen-year-old with floppy brown hair and catlike hazel eyes and baby fat in his cheeks. He glares at Gabriel.
“What do you want?” he asks (rather rudely, in Gabriel’s opinion).
“I’m your brother’s friend. Your brother is off screaming at Prefects. Hopefully.”
“Don’t you have other friends?”
Gabriel grimaces at the thought of being stuck in a carriage with Draco Malfoy, or any of the other Slytherins. Or Balthazar. Gabriel doesn’t mind Balthazar - Balthazar’s fun - but then he seems to hero-worship Gabriel sometimes. It feels awkward.
“I don’t want to talk to them.”
Sam snorts a snort that Gabriel thinks all thirteen-year-olds have perfected over the years.
“So, what electives did you choose?” Gabriel tries. Hey, the kid is Dean’s little brother. Idiot loves the boy more than life itself.
“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures,” Sam replies shortly.
“Ah…” Gabriel nods sagely, “I chose Divination and Ancient Runes. Ancient Runes are fun. Professor Trelawney, however, is completely mad. You should be glad you didn’t choose Divination.”
“I know. Dean told me.”
“Dean wasn’t in Divination,” Gabriel says, confused. He thought that Dean was in Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, just because Muggle Studies would be an easy O and he apparently likes numbers, the freak. Obviously, he’s not in the electives anymore, what with the N.E.W.T.s and all that extra pressure. Gabriel doesn’t think anyone is insane enough to take seven N.E.W.T.s, they’d probably die from all the academic pressure. After all, the N.E.W.T. is called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test for a reason.
Sam shrugs.
Gabriel tries in vain to think of something else to say, but all he could think of are either A) offensive, B) stupid, C) obvious, or D) all of the above. So he accepts the extremely aggressive silence and let it settle over them like an overheated blanket.
After what seems like an hour, but probably (hopefully) isn’t, the food trolley comes by. Gabriel jumps up gratefully and buys one of everything, ignoring Sam’s snort of derision.
“Want one?” he asks Sam through a mouthful of pumpkin pastry. Sam’s young face twists into one of aloof disgust.
“No.”
Gabriel shrugs, stuffing one more pastry into his mouth.
The silence folds over them like a second blanket. It’s suffocating, but Gabriel cares less now that he has his sweets.
The door slides open, and Dean and Castiel slide in.
“Shove over,” Dean tells Sam, who shifts to the window with a slight scowl. Castiel sites stiffly beside Gabriel, trying very hard not to touch Gabriel. Gabriel sneers and attempts to press into Castiel, just to piss him off.
Dean’s sharp green eyes accuse him, and Gabriel stops, sighing. Great, they aren’t even going out and he’s already whipped. What the hell is this?
“You’ll never guess who Slytherin’s new Prefects are,” Dean starts, dropping a Frizzing Whizbee into his mouth.
“Draco Malfoy?”
“And Pansy Parkinson.” Dean’s face twists with disgust.
“Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley are Gryffindor’s new Prefects,” Castiel chimes in.
“Really?” Gabriel’s eyes widen, “I thought Potter was a shoo-in.”
Dean shrugs. Castiel looks away, like Gabriel’s voice is enough to disgust him.
“Sam,” Dean says suddenly, “Switch.”
Sam sighs, and they shuffle so Dean and Castiel are sitting on one side and Sam and Gabriel are sitting on the other.
“What was that for?” Gabriel asks suspiciously. Dean shrugs.
“You two looked uncomfortable,” he explains. Right on cue, Castiel sends another one of his die, arsehole glares at Gabriel. Dean remains oblivious, but Sam sees it and smirks. Gabriel sneers at them both.
Gabriel still doesn’t know why Dean’s friends all hate him. Is it because he’s a Slytherin or because of that prank involving a stolen textbook, slap-happy pissed off women, and a chainsaw murderer? Because he knows that last prank was kind of out of hand, but Dean didn’t seem to mind it. Hell, he thought it was funny. It was funny. People laughed. Lots of people laughed!
A silence descends on them once again, only this time (and Gabriel knows it’s only because of Dean) it’s not awkward. Dean stuffs himself with sweets while being oblivious to things around him. Sam reads a book Gabriel’s never seen before called Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, and the picture at the front doesn’t move. It’s weird and kind of creepy. Castiel stares at Dean, and Gabriel stares at Castiel staring at Dean. And Dean’s either still oblivious, or he’s way too used to being stared at by Castiel. Gabriel really hopes it’s the former.
“So…” Gabriel tries. “Anything new this year?”
“Dean says now that Oliver is gone I can be Keeper,” Castiel says randomly.
“That’s good.” The Slytherin nods, “I’m Quidditch Captain of the Slytherin team.”
Castiel raises an eyebrow, and Gabriel wonders why everyone Dean knows is so fond of raising their eyebrows. Oddly enough, it’s the most emotion Gabriel’s ever seen on the other Gryffindor’s face. You know, if sarcastic incredulity is an emotion. Gabriel doesn’t think so. Can one feel sarcastic?
“Cas is gonna be the best Keeper, huh Cas?” Dean grins at Castiel, bumps his shoulder.
Castiel - get this - smiles. He honest-to-god smiles. It’s freaking unbelievable. “I do not believe anyone so far has been able to surpass Oliver Wood in skill.”
“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be great,” Dean grins again, harder, at Castiel, who smiles even wider at the second (repeated, Gabriel thinks grumpily) compliment, staring deep into Dean’s eyes. What’s worse is that Dean reciprocates; looks back into Castiel’s eyes like they hold the secrets of the universe. Gabriel thinks he might puke. Sam simply smiles; mutters a light get a room.
When Dean finally, finally tears his gaze from Castiel, he turns to Gabriel. “Dude,” he says enthusiastically, “This year is gonna be amazing!”
“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees weakly. Damn it. Dean. Too pretty, not too smart, and too goddamn oblivious. Gabriel kind of wants to kick something, or at the very least pull some new prank that’ll make the first-years cry.
Come to think of it, Gabriel doesn’t get why he’s trying so hard. It’s never happened before, not even to that really hot Ravenclaw 7th year when he was still in the 5th, the one with really nice red hair.
Gabriel cackles evilly and dances around in the still-warm tears of anguish and despair shed by the first years, revelling in his power.
Okay, not really. But still, he made some first years cry, and it felt amazing. It was like a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders. So what if Dean sent him a disapproving look? Dean isn’t the boss of him. He didn’t even issue a detention, or take points off, or whatever else Head Boys are supposed to do. How did Dean even become Head Boy? He failed his History of Magic O.W.L. Maybe Dumbledore really likes him. Why is Gabriel even thinking of Dean anyway? He needs to stop. This is a Dean-free zone, this Slytherin common room is.
Gabriel’s so engrossed in rewinding the fabulous prank he pulled on the first years in his head and not thinking of Dean Winchester that he doesn’t even notice Draco Malfoy until he’s practically standing on top of Gabriel.
“And what do you want?” Gabriel asks rather rudely, mostly because that was his intention.
“Where’s Winchester?” Malfoy sneers.
Gabriel glances at the clock. 11:30. “Probably sleeping.”
Malfoy snorts. “You know, I never got why you would want to talk to him.” He spits out the word as if it had personally offended him.
“I like him,” Gabriel replies blandly.
“That’s the biggest problem.” Malfoy bends down. “I’m trying to give you advice, Slytherin to Slytherin. The Dark Lord is back, no matter how hard they try to hide it. Keep being friends with that Gryffindor, and the Dark Lord might take it the wrong way. Keep being friends with him, and he might woo you over to his side, and when we win, you’ll die. So take my advice. Stop talking to him.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel snorts, “But no thanks.”
“Fine. Your funeral.”
Gabriel goes back to fantasising about the tears of the first-years, but something Malfoy says sticks with him.
He knows that the Dark Lord is back - he’s heard Michael celebrate it. And Malfoy is right - if the Dark Lord thinks Gabriel is on the side of the Order, then he’s going to die.
He doesn’t want to die.
Gabriel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. It’s okay, he tells himself, the Dark Lord is still in hiding. You can worry about it later.
Just worry about it later.
“Head Boy! How’s the academic life going for ya?” Gabriel slings an arm over Dean’s shoulder. Dean pushes it away.
“You’re in the same classes as me.”
“No I’m not,” Gabriel objects, “I don’t want to be an Auror.” Plus, he’s a Slytherin. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t share all classes together, but there is a lot. Gabriel thinks Dumbledore did that deliberately to promote inter-house unity. Like that will happen.
“I don’t either,” Dean argues, “I’m gonna continue the family business. Auror is Plan B.”
Castiel snorts disapprovingly. Gabriel frowns, confused.
“What is the family business?”
Dean shrugs, suddenly not wanting to talk. Castiel places a hand behind Dean’s back and leads him away. The other man waves to Gabriel, but lets Castiel drag him away, hand on his back and everything.
Draco Malfoy catches his eye and smirks. Gabriel narrows his eyes and jinxes Malfoy when he turns away.
Something’s going on between Dean and Castiel, and Dean’s hiding something. Something that is not what’s going on between him and Castiel. Gabriel’s determined to know what.
“You want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”
Dean frowns, “Didn’t we already do this?”
“Yup. But I figured I should try it again. Plus, I thought we would go to Three Broomsticks.”
“Oh, so like a real date. Like, romantically. Okay.”
“Great,” Gabriel winks theatrically, “I’ll see you there.”
Dean and Gabriel meets each other in Three Broomsticks. They settle in a table, smiling. They flirt with Madame Rosmerta, and neither of them care they did it. Dean orders a butterbeer, as does Gabriel. Of course, they don’t order the same food. Dean and Gabriel laugh and joke and talk of their favourite food, and favourite music. Dean apparently likes a Muggle band named Led Zeppelin, and really likes pie. He’s not too big into reading, and he likes Muggle things called ‘movies’, which apparently are people in an oversized picture frame.
“So,” Gabriel starts, “Tell me about your life.” He deliberately links his fingers together, one from each hand touching his lip. Leaning forward ever slightly, Gabriel tries his best to look like a journalist.
Dean snorts, “You sound like an interviewer. Tell me about yours first.”
Gabriel shrugs, leaning back on his chair, “I have three older brothers - Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael. But you already know that. You know about my father too. So, Michael was Head Boy, and a Prefect, and Dad adored him. But not as much as Lucifer. It was just that they didn’t get along.”
Dean smiles and nods sympathetically. “It’s the same with Sammy.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees, “Raphael and I didn’t get as much attention, and then Luci left. So,” he shrugs, makes a vague motion with his hands just to occupy them. Takes a sip of his butterbeer.
Dean nods again sombrely, “I know.” But he smiles, steering the conversation to a happier place, “You know, once Sammy and I had a prank war…”
Dean goes on to describe the pranks they pulled on each other, from itching powder to glued bottles to creepy dolls staring at you and so much more, finally escalating to something called Nair in Sam’s shampoo.
“Sam was so pissed at me,” Dean laughs at the memory, “He couldn’t live without his hair. Didn’t even want to show his face at school.”
Gabriel grins. Now that would be a fun prank to use on Michael.
The date went great, they finished all of the delicious foods, flirted with Madame Rosmerta, and walked home. It wasn’t even cold, which it by all rights shouldn’t be, but where ever the hell Hogwarts is has wonky weather. So.
Now they are in front of the Gryffindor Common Room, and really, Gryffindors have a freaking Fat Lady on/as their door, how stupid is that? They stare at each other, and Gabriel kisses Dean hesitantly.
It is freaking awesome, and Dean has such soft, warm lips and tastes just like butterbeer and candy.
***
Quidditch try-outs were horrible. Gabriel doesn’t even want to talk about it. Or even think about it. The team is horrifying. And practice isn’t much better either.
At least Dean understands his pain.
***
So one day Dean just spontaneously jogs up to him, ignoring the stares and whispers. He goes right in, invades Gabriel’s personal space the same way Castiel still invades Dean’s, even though Dean and Gabriel are going out. He presses his lips to Gabriel’s ear, warm breath brushing past his sensitive skin.
“All work no play,” he whispers, and what is Dean talking about?!
Then he grins, winks, and saunters off.
Gabriel is so freaking confused, until Tessa tells him that the Heads have their own bedrooms, and they have passwords.
At night, he rushes to Dean’s room.
“So, anything new going on in your life?” Gabriel asks, staring up at the ceiling.
“You know what’s going on,” Dean replies. He punches the sheets lightly, stares as the bright red comforter blooms up.
“I know what went up,” Gabriel smirks.
Dean kicks him under the covers. He sighs. “Sorry,” he admits, “I’m not used to this.”
“Me neither.”
They exchange understanding glances.
“You did what?” Sam Winchester shrieks, and Gabriel, along with what seems like the entire population of Hogwarts, turns to look at the Winchesters.
Dean shushes Sam, and they are joined by Castiel. The trio pushes their heads together, looking like they are arguing. Gabriel stands up, sneaks near the Hufflepuff table because it’s the closest to where they’re sitting.
“…don’t know why you’re doing this,” Sam is whispering, “It’s stupid and you know what he is.”
“He’s fine. He’s a good person,” Dean defends.
“What about after you finish? Are you going to bring him with you when you follow in your Father’s footsteps?” That’s Castiel.
Gabriel frowns. He has no idea what they are talking about, and that’s the bad part.
Dean knows almost everything about them. What does Gabriel know about Dean? Hell, Gabriel doesn’t even know why Dean came here, if they’re Americans. Gabriel figured that he should know. They are dating, after all.
“…doesn’t have to know,” Dean was saying. Gabriel frowns. He decides to just go.
Just before Gabriel leaves, he sees Castiel rest his hand on Dean’s, and Dean doesn’t push it off.
A week after, Gabriel and Dean lay once again on Dean’s gold and red bed in his fancy new Head Boy room. The room is grand, bigger than Gabriel’s entire dorm room that he shares with four other boys. It also has a better view, stretching out over the Quidditch fields and the Forbidden Forest, although under the lake is still pretty cool. The suckers on the Giant Squid’s tentacles freak Gabriel out, though. A golden crystal chandelier hangs over the massive bed, one without the curtains. The walls are painted white, with Dean’s Led Zeppelin posters, as well as some involving a man dressed peculiarly, one where he seems to be wearing a blanket. One has people wielding coloured swords. Muggles are weird. There are large, squishy couches and mahogany desks, presumably for homework, and a large bookshelf with only the top shelf filled.
“Admiring the view?” Dean drawls.
“It’s the only thing to look at,” Gabriel replies lazily.
They kiss hungrily, grinding against each other, tugging at short hair. Then, Gabriel breaks away, panting.
“Tell me about your family,” he demands.
Dean looks confused, “Why?”
“I told you all about mine. Tell me about yours.”
Dean now looks uncomfortable, and squirms a little. “Do I have to?”
“Yes!” Gabriel exclaims. “At least tell me how you got in from America.”
The other man sighs, “Fine. Um, so I was staying at this motel-”
“Why were you staying at a motel?”
“Because we just moved!” Dean snaps, and then takes a deep, calming breath. “So I was going to sleep, and then I heard a little tapping noise on the window. At first, I thought it was … something weird. Maybe a ghost,” He laughs lightly, “And then I look at the window and I see a huge fucking owl, tapping at the glass. It was carrying a letter, so I let it in. Poor thing was exhausted.
“Then the door was knocked, and Sammy opened it. He was just seven, and my dad was there too. McGonagall let herself in, acting just like herself. She told me that I was accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Dad just flipped. Told her no way in hell that I was going to the UK to learn magic. So they sent us to our rooms, and screamed at each other. Next thing I knew, I was going to Hogwarts. Not that I really wanted to. But I got over it.” Dean shrugs.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was in Texas. This is Scotland. It’s a long way. Plus, I don’t like the idea of leaving Sammy alone.”
Oh. Gabriel nods with supreme understanding. “So is that it?”
Dean hesitates for a second too long, “Yes.”
Yeah right.
“Good,” Gabriel forces out.
Christmas break comes. He’s staying, he always stays for breaks - would gladly stay for summer if it means getting away from his family, but Gabriel raises his eyebrow in disbelief as Dean admits that he and Sam are staying for the break too.
“Don’t you always go home?” he asks. They did, anyway. Before Sam came to Hogwarts, Gabriel remembers Dean rushing back every time he can, and sometimes when he can’t. Hell, every day Dean would get a letter and every day he would send one.
“Dad’s busy.”
“He’s always busy,” Sam snarls, “It’s Christmas and he doesn’t even bother to-”
“Drop it, Sammy,” his brother cuts in wearily.
The little Ravenclaw’s forehead wrinkles, his eyes squint and lips twist. Gabriel thinks that this is what Dean calls Sam’s bitch face. Sam crosses his arms over his chest.
Behind Sam’s back, Dean shoots Gabriel a rather lecherous and very suggestive grin, one that Gabriel returns.
On Christmas Day, Gabriel wakes up to his dorm covered in holly and flickering lights. He groans, but then realises one essential, amazing thing.
Presents.
He jumps out of his green and silver bed, rushing over to the foot of his bed. There is a small pile of presents, all decked out in different colours.
Michael, the douche, gives him a book. His uncle Zachariah gives him a book too, on etiquette, which is even worse. With a disgusted snort, Gabriel tosses the two books away. Raphael sends him sweets, and Lucifer gives him a trick wand that beat him around the head when waved. It looks vaguely familiar. Gabriel just can’t believe that Lucifer gave him a freaking gift.
Gabriel tosses out the green and silver coloured box with the name Draco Malfoy scrawled on it in admittedly good writing with disgust, not casting a second look at it.
Dean’s gift is wrapped with newspaper, Fudge waving his podgy hand at Gabriel despite being squished under another layer. Gabriel laughs, and tears it open straight across Fudge’s face.
It’s a huge box of Skiving Skyboxes, something the Weasley twins are selling the students of Hogwarts, and a fanged Frisbee. Gabriel laughs, thinking of the Weasley twin’s faces as Head Boy walks up to them and demands a box. The Weasley twins weren’t happy with Dean being the new Head Boy either. Knowing Dean, he could have confiscated it, and Gabriel just knows Dean confiscated the Frisbee from some unsuspecting first-year just to give it to him. Dean’s a horrible Head Boy.
At breakfast, Dean and Gabriel make out enthusiastically, ignoring Castiel’s death glare and Sam’s overzealous gags. Dean’s hair is dyed green and red from Gabriel’s exploding present, but he doesn’t seem to care. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle and McGonagall looks like part of her was melting with the sweetness of it all and another part of her just wants to stop all of the PDA. Snape, as always, looks like there is something sour under his nose.
“Okay now quit it,” Sam snaps.
“How about I remove the stick up your arse?” Gabriel offers rudely, pissed at being interrupted. Dean glowers at him, and Gabriel gawks. Stupid arsehole always defends his brother. Always!
“Why do you always do that?” he snaps.
“Do what?” Okay, Dean honestly looks confused. How can anyone be that oblivious?
“Stick up for him! He could be the stupidest idiot sometimes, and no matter what you always defend him!”
Sam rolls his eyes.
“I stick up for him because he’s my brother!” Dean snaps back hotly, fingering the bronze pendant he always has around his neck, “He’s my family and it’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Sam rolls his eyes again.
“You sound like you’re brainwashed!” Gabriel snarled.
Sam nods. What in Merlin’s name…?
Dean gives Sam a look that says they’ve been doing this for way too long, but is still somehow hurt that Sam would nod at what Gabriel said. He looks up to the ceiling of the Great Hall, blanketed with white, and sighs dramatically.
“Screw this,” he says, and stomps the hell out of the Great Hall.
Sam and Gabriel glare at each other furiously, both blaming each other for Dean’s little bitch fit.
Castiel throws his hands up in exasperation and rushes after Dean. Whatever, Gabriel thinks; I’m not his best friend. I don’t even know his father’s name.
Gabriel stomps to Dean’s room, not knowing why he’s even there. He’s not apologising to Dean; he doesn’t even know why he should. Apologise, that is. Spitting out the password, he barges into the room, deciding to screw all who hears, and prepares himself for giving Dean a piece of his mind.
Dean and Castiel are on the bed. Together. Closely together. Very closely.
Gabriel’s eyes grow wide as he takes in what’s in front of him. On the large red and gold bed that Dean and Gabriel have christened hundreds of times over, Dean is leaning against Castiel’s skinny chest. Castiel was saying something to Dean, and his hand is on Dean’s head, gripping his arm. Of course, now they’re both staring at Gabriel with freakishly huge green and blue eyes, in shock.
Screw it, Gabriel decides, and strides the hell out of there, slamming the door on his way.
Contrary to popular belief, Gabriel has more friends than just Dean.
“So you and Winchester broke up?” Balthazar asks Gabriel, who sulks and glowers back at him.
“Maybe,” he admits grudgingly.
“What happened?” the other Slytherin inquires.
“It’s nothing!” Gabriel snaps. “And none of your business.”
Balthazar raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine.”
“You and Winchester broke up?” An interested voice cuts in behind them, and they spin around. The first thing Gabriel sees is a black suit, so different from the normal robes. The man is not tall, rather average height, as opposed to, say, Dean Winchester and way taller than Sam Winchester. He’s old, but not too old, with grey eyes and black hair.
Professor Crowley, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
“Damn,” he says with some regret. “That was basically the most entertaining thing around here. We’ve been betting on how long you’ll last.”
“You what?” Gabriel barks.
“Snape won, damn it! I can’t stand that git!” Crowley rages suddenly. He sends them a wounded look, “How could you?”
“How could I?” Gabriel sputters. “You people are betting on me! And Dean!”
“Were betting on you. I, at least, thought you’d last this year,” Crowley grumbles. “McGonagall thought you’d stop around the N.E.W.Ts. ‘Course, Dumbledore that you’d be together forever. Moron.” He glares at Gabriel, “As are you and that idiot Winchester. I worked hard for that money!”
Gabriel gapes, and Balthazar sniggers. Crowley fixes Gabriel with a stern glare, “I’m setting up a new bet, and you’d better get back together before the year ends.” He turns on his heels and swaggers off.
“Like hell!” Gabriel snarls venomously.
Balthazar looks at Gabriel curiously, “Why?”
Gabriel glares at Balthazar, “Don’t ask.”
Gabriel stuffs himself with candy and pies during dinner, completely ignoring the Gryffindor table. He savours the sweetness flooding his mouth, moaning ecstatically, and there’s a tap on the table. He looks up.
Dean Winchester is still so very handsome, tall with pouty lips and big emerald green eyes and caramel freckles dotting his high cheekbones and straight nose. Blond-yet-somehow-brunette hair spiked in the same way Gabriel knows that takes around fifteen minutes to do. His eyes aren’t red or swollen, cheeks aren’t flushed, and he doesn’t look angry; there’s nothing to suggest that he feels bad about the break up.
“What do you want?” Gabriel snaps.
“Um,” Dean begins, “Apparently we broke up?”
He doesn’t even know? Gabriel caught Dean on his bed with Castiel, the same of Castiel who places his hand on Dean’s and stares deeply into Dean’s eyes and invades Dean’s personal space and Dean doesn’t even do anything about it. And apparently, Dean doesn’t know what’s going on.
“Yes!” Gabriel shouts, “We did!”
“Why?” Dean looks confused. Dean. Looks. Confused! Gabriel can honestly say he’s never met a more oblivious person before in his life.
“You know why, Dean!”
“No,” Dean says slowly, “I don’t.”
“Castiel!” Gabriel’s sick of Dean’s idiocy, “I know about you and him - I should have known before. You two are obvious, so obvious is sickening and I can’t even believe I didn’t notice it! And also, what do I know about you? I know you’re from America and that you almost didn’t come here, and that you were in Texas back then. I guessed, from your brother and Castiel and what you said, that your Dad’s an overprotective bastard-”
“- no he’s not,” Dean immediately says.
“And I also guessed that you really like your father, and that you’re close. I know that your little brother is your life, and that your mom died. I don’t know your dad’s name, or how you met Castiel. You know my brothers’ names, my family history, and my parents’ names. I don’t know anything about you, and you know everything about me!”
“Look,” Dean says, “I’m not good at that shit. Talking, I mean. About feelings. I just -” He heaves a deep breath, closes his eyes. “I’ll just go.”
Gabriel simply nods, and Dean gives this tight, sad smile, like Gabriel’s breaking up with him and Dean is just going to give up and let him go like that old Muggle saying he read about. Seriously, the audacity of that boy!
And Gabriel still remembers Dean not saying anything about him and Castiel. That, if anything, serves as confirmation.
Then, he realises that the entire Slytherin table is staring at him, Draco Malfoy smirking, Balthazar with a contemplating look.
Well, on the bright side, at least now he knows the Dark Lord won’t attempt to kill him because of his association.
“At least you got rid of him, despite making a fool of yourself.” Malfoy smirks. “I’m sure the Dark Lord would show you special consideration later on.”
“Silencio,” Gabriel says with a snarl, standing up from his position on a couch, and points his wand at the little brat.
Malfoy chokes, clutching at his throat, suddenly rendered mute. He glares at Gabriel with cold grey eyes that promise vengeance, and scrambles out, his two large, lumbering goons following him.
“Nice one,” Balthazar says. Gabriel grins, and pops a lemon drop in his mouth.
An hour later, Draco and crew come back, Draco tattling his mouth off to Crowley as the professor grins lightly.
“Morgenstern,” Crowley motions to Gabriel, “Detention. My office. Every Friday night until I say so.”
Friday night?! Gabriel gapes; he has stuff to do on Friday night! Mostly with Dean-
Right. Friday night is fine.
“Look on the bright side,” Balthazar says cheerfully, “Least you have something to do now on Friday nights without looking like an antisocial arsehole.”
“What, you mean my bi-monthly blood orgies aren’t enough?” Gabriel snorts, and shoves a handful of lemon drops in his mouth. Damn it, he is not an antisocial arsehole.
“So, where’s your friend? What’s his name…Balthazar?” Crowley asks idly, flipping through paperwork.
“He’s on a bender with a giraffe named Dave.” Actually, Balthazar is supposed to be on a date. Gabriel doesn’t think so. It’s less because he doesn’t think Balthazar can get a date and more because Balthazar was tugging at the collar of his robe - a big tell for him. But maybe he’s just nervous about the date, not the lie.
Nah, it’s totally the lie. Why would Balthazar go on a date? Seven years and Gabriel never remembers Balthazar going on a date. Okay, so he only completely realised Balthazar existed a year ago, but he knows the guy. Really.
“Is that so?” Crowley seems to be exhibiting interest. It feels vaguely threatening.
“Yup.”
“For how long?” the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wonders.
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks. “It’s a bloody bender. However long he wants.”
Crowley sighs. “There’s paperwork on the desk.” He flails an arm vaguely towards a desk. “Get to work.”
Gabriel directs his gaze to a small desk in the middle of the front row, one with a rather large pile of parchment stacked on top of it. Gabriel groans in despair, trudging towards the pile of doom as if walking through thick, viscous mud.
One week later, Dean is arguing with Sam again. They seem to do that a lot lately. Gabriel is kind of pleased, in a non-caring way. Today, they walk to the Great Hall arguing. It’s better than the hallway yet worse than in the classroom: less attention, yet somehow more at the same time.
Gabriel doesn’t care about anything right now except for the delicious, sugary tart in his hand right now. He’s pretty sure that, judging from the look on Balthazar’s face, he’s making obscene orgasmic noises. He doesn’t really care.
Yesterday’s detention was horrible. Crowley drilled Gabriel on his and Dean’s relationship while Balthazar was on another “date”. It was very invasive. Gabriel doesn’t even want to think about it.
He stuffs another tart into his mouth. Balthazar sighs.
“You and Dean get back together yet?” Crowley asks, drinking something Gabriel knows is not apple juice, no matter how much the Professor insists. Gabriel sighs, looking longingly out the widow. It’s Friday again, a day Gabriel has come to dread, and apparently Balthazar has another date. It’s like his date doesn’t exist until Friday. Well, except for the fact that he gets steadily more excited until Friday, when he’s just plain unbearable.
“We’re not going to,” Gabriel snaps, dotting an ‘i’ extra hard and poking a hole through the parchment. “Damn it!”
Crowley waves it off, “Why not?”
“Because we’re not,” Gabriel replies stubbornly. “Does a Defence professor really have that much paperwork?”
“’S not for defence,” Crowley grins easily, “Just contracts for some deals I made.”
“What deals?”
“None of your business, you moron. Get back to work.”
Gabriel’s pretty sure that a professor is not supposed to call a student moron. Then again, last year Mad-Eye Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret and Snape constantly calls his students lazy dunderheads, which is nothing compared to what he calls Harry Potter. So.
He sighs, flipping to another ungodly long contract. He’s pretty sure he saw the words Sam, Dean, and Canada. Gabriel shouldn’t want to know. In fact, he shouldn’t even talk about it.
“So,” Gabriel begins, “About Canada-”
“Just do it!” Crowley snaps.
Seriously, who does their contracts in Latin anyway?
“Alright.” Balthazar slams his hands down on the table, “This is enough.”
“Enufwut?” Gabriel mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate frog. He chews harder.
“You’re moping. Get a girl,” the other Slytherin snaps. “Or do you exclusively bat for the other team?”
Gabriel swallows.
“I’m not moping. I don’t mope. Ever.”
Balthazar glares at Gabriel. “Fine. You don’t mope. Also, Dean’s ugly as hell and I’m shorter than you.”
“Shut up.”
“Look,” Balthazar sighs; he points to a random girl with curly blonde hair. “Daphne Greengrass. Half-blood, single.”
“Fifth year. It’s probably illegal.”
“Meg Masters? Seventh year, pure blood.”
“No. No way in hell.”
“Why not?”
Gabriel glares at Balthazar. He never liked most of the Slytherins anyway.
“I’m not moping. Go away.”
Balthazar sighs theatrically, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He rolls his eyes and rakes a thin hand through short, spiky blond hair. Like Dean’s.
They just finished getting ready for the day, deciding that they can stay a few minutes. After all, breakfast is optional. Chocolate is not. Plus, everyone is in the Great Hall, including Dean. Not that Gabriel is avoiding Dean at all, but lately Dean looks like he wants to talk to Gabriel, and he doesn’t want to participate in the awkwardness. Also, for some reason, Balthazar seems to want to escape the Great Hall too. Gabriel doesn’t really want to know. Except he does. Then he hears Meg Masters giggling with her equally blonde and equally bitchy sister about Dean and Castiel not being in the Great Hall, which means something.
Gabriel is pretty sure they’re making out in a storage closet somewhere, or maybe the Room of Requirement. He really hopes it’s not the Room of Requirement because Gabriel was the one that showed Dean it in the first place. And he told Dean what it will and can turn to. Dean’s not like some people- he’s not petty or vengeful or just plain mean, although Gabriel admits Dean can be pretty freaking insensitive and really, really oblivious. Still, Dean wouldn’t make out with the guy he cheated on Gabriel with in a room Gabriel told him about. He’s not like that. But Dean and Castiel are still probably making out. Gabriel’s already thought that. Merlin, Gabriel hates that image, it just keeps coming back.
Actually, it’s kind of hot.
“You’re pining,” Balthazar accuses.
“Fuck off,” Gabriel snaps. Gabriel never, ever swears … much. It’s a big thing when he does, and Balthazar knows it. “I’m not pining. I’m Gabriel Morgenstern. Morgensterns don’t pine. I don’t pine.”
“Of course you don’t,” Balthazar sneers sarcastically.
“Look, Dean doesn’t want to -”
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Balthazar rolls his eyes, “It’s always Dean. Forget Dean, and whatever the hell he did to you that was so bad! He’s a child of a blood-traitor and a Muggle, a clueless Yank and he has no brain cells whatsoever. He’s not worth the time.” He takes a deep breath, looks contrite. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well, not all of that. He’s not stupid or clueless. Well, he’s very clueless, but honestly I could care less about his heritage but apparently he did something that makes you sulk non-stop and he doesn’t even care or do anything about it, instead he just-”
“You know,” Gabriel grumbles, interrupting his friend, “I’ve never liked the whole blood prejudice thing.”
Balthazar gawks at him, “Thanks for interrupting me! And what does that mean? Your family was one of the original pure-blood supremacists, and proud of the title. It was a bloody miracle Dean would even talk to you.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m so handsome,” the youngest son of one of the original pure-blood supremacist families snaps back. “He knows I’m not them. We’re not talking about Dean. Ever.”
“Your family wouldn’t mind Winchester anyway. He’s only a half-blood. You just have to worry about his family. What did he even do to you?”
“None of your business.” Gabriel picks up a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles, bites into it. It’s delicious, the chocolate sweet and soft, but not too sweet. The dough is airy, light; the sprinkles crunchy. He thinks he made a pornographic noise.
“That kind of stuff is not allowed in the public,” Professor Crowley scolds. Gabriel and Balthazar jump, swearing in shock. Crowley cuffs the back of their heads for that.
“You and Winchester back yet?”
“You stopping my detention yet?” Gabriel shoots back.
Crowley grins happily. Gabriel freely admits to feeling a bit of fear at that. “See, that’s my miraculous plan. I can’t bother you over the summer, but it’s February. There’s still four months left, and believe me, I will keep you in detention every single week until you and Winchester get back together.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Gabriel says confidently. Crowley smirks.
“Then I guess you’re in detention the entire year.”
“You can’t do that!” The Slytherin blusters.
“Can’t I?” The professor asks rhetorically. He shakes his head, and then winks. “Oh, and remember that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. If there’s any day, it would be tomorrow.”
Valentine’s Day. As if Gabriel’s month isn’t bad enough, it had to be Valentine’s Day.
Balthazar elbows him, “I’ll steal some Firewhiskey for you.”
“Merlin, thank you,” Gabriel sighs.
Valentine’s Day is stupid and pink, and all the happy couples are stuck together like they all used the permanent sticking charm on each other. It’s also a Wednesday, so Gabriel can’t just hole up in the Room of Requirement and drink himself blind, as tempting as the thought might be. He does, however, escape right after class to implement that plan.
He pushes open the door the moment it appears, charging in without a second thought, because all of the couples sucking each other’s face off and proclaiming their love was sickening.
And it’s déjà vu all over again, because Dean and Castiel are in the room, and Castiel is holding Dean. Only, they aren’t on a bed. It’s a couch.
Dean’s head snaps up as the heavy doors slam behind Gabriel, a loud crash echoes through the otherwise empty room. His eyes are wide and glassy, green orbs seemingly larger and clearer than ever. With blond hair mussed and freckles darker than ever, he looks freaking amazing. Like an angel. Castiel’s freakishly blue eyes glare at him with even more hatred than ever before, and his hair is also sticking up in all directions, although it’s hard to tell from its normal style because Castiel’s hair is always so messy. Gabriel has nice hair.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Castiel snarls aggressively, like a protective mama bear. Or a possessive boyfriend.
Dean closes his eyes, “Cas, leave it,” he says gently, softly, all resigned like he was the one hurt and oh look at him he’s so mature and accepting he’s obviously not pissed at all. Gabriel hates it, the bastard.
And apparently, Castiel agrees, because he looks at Dean like the boy’s crazy. However, he stands up along with Dean, and they walk out. Milton glares at Gabriel like he’s the abomination of the earth and the universe. Dean avoids his gaze, staring straight ahead defiantly.
Gabriel sighs, and when the two lovebirds are out of sight, takes a swig of Firewhiskey. The liquor burns sweetly on its way down, a light fire blooming in his belly. Immediately, the room is filled with various forms of liquor. It’s amazing.
He takes another swig.
Part Three Masterpost
Go Back to Part One
“Why hello, Mister Head Boy,” Gabriel grins, staring at Dean’s red and gold Head Boy badge.
“Yeah, I never get sick of that.” Dean rolls his eyes. He grins back, though, so Gabriel knows it’s teasing.
“Gabe.” Dean gestures to a short, beautiful raven haired beauty with pale skin. “This is Tessa. She’s in Ravenclaw, and she’s Head Girl.”
“Hey.” The Slytherin grins flirtatiously, “You know, I’m a lot more fun than that arsehole that you call Head Boy.”
“I would bet,” Tessa says dryly. She’s somehow warm and inviting yet untouchable and powerful at the exact same time. “You know, I’ve heard of you. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin being friends isn’t exactly common around here.”
“We’re the founders of a new era,” Gabriel boasts, grinning.
“Right.” Tessa smiles, turns to Dean, “We need to go to the Prefect’s carriage. You know, tell them what to do.”
“My kind of work,” Dean grins. He waves goodbye to Gabriel and follows Tessa into the Prefect’s carriage. Gabriel takes that as the cue to find his own place to stay.
He chooses the cart with Sam Winchester in it.
Sam Winchester is a little taller than before, but he’s still a short, petulant thirteen-year-old with floppy brown hair and catlike hazel eyes and baby fat in his cheeks. He glares at Gabriel.
“What do you want?” he asks (rather rudely, in Gabriel’s opinion).
“I’m your brother’s friend. Your brother is off screaming at Prefects. Hopefully.”
“Don’t you have other friends?”
Gabriel grimaces at the thought of being stuck in a carriage with Draco Malfoy, or any of the other Slytherins. Or Balthazar. Gabriel doesn’t mind Balthazar - Balthazar’s fun - but then he seems to hero-worship Gabriel sometimes. It feels awkward.
“I don’t want to talk to them.”
Sam snorts a snort that Gabriel thinks all thirteen-year-olds have perfected over the years.
“So, what electives did you choose?” Gabriel tries. Hey, the kid is Dean’s little brother. Idiot loves the boy more than life itself.
“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures,” Sam replies shortly.
“Ah…” Gabriel nods sagely, “I chose Divination and Ancient Runes. Ancient Runes are fun. Professor Trelawney, however, is completely mad. You should be glad you didn’t choose Divination.”
“I know. Dean told me.”
“Dean wasn’t in Divination,” Gabriel says, confused. He thought that Dean was in Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, just because Muggle Studies would be an easy O and he apparently likes numbers, the freak. Obviously, he’s not in the electives anymore, what with the N.E.W.T.s and all that extra pressure. Gabriel doesn’t think anyone is insane enough to take seven N.E.W.T.s, they’d probably die from all the academic pressure. After all, the N.E.W.T. is called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test for a reason.
Sam shrugs.
Gabriel tries in vain to think of something else to say, but all he could think of are either A) offensive, B) stupid, C) obvious, or D) all of the above. So he accepts the extremely aggressive silence and let it settle over them like an overheated blanket.
After what seems like an hour, but probably (hopefully) isn’t, the food trolley comes by. Gabriel jumps up gratefully and buys one of everything, ignoring Sam’s snort of derision.
“Want one?” he asks Sam through a mouthful of pumpkin pastry. Sam’s young face twists into one of aloof disgust.
“No.”
Gabriel shrugs, stuffing one more pastry into his mouth.
The silence folds over them like a second blanket. It’s suffocating, but Gabriel cares less now that he has his sweets.
The door slides open, and Dean and Castiel slide in.
“Shove over,” Dean tells Sam, who shifts to the window with a slight scowl. Castiel sites stiffly beside Gabriel, trying very hard not to touch Gabriel. Gabriel sneers and attempts to press into Castiel, just to piss him off.
Dean’s sharp green eyes accuse him, and Gabriel stops, sighing. Great, they aren’t even going out and he’s already whipped. What the hell is this?
“You’ll never guess who Slytherin’s new Prefects are,” Dean starts, dropping a Frizzing Whizbee into his mouth.
“Draco Malfoy?”
“And Pansy Parkinson.” Dean’s face twists with disgust.
“Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley are Gryffindor’s new Prefects,” Castiel chimes in.
“Really?” Gabriel’s eyes widen, “I thought Potter was a shoo-in.”
Dean shrugs. Castiel looks away, like Gabriel’s voice is enough to disgust him.
“Sam,” Dean says suddenly, “Switch.”
Sam sighs, and they shuffle so Dean and Castiel are sitting on one side and Sam and Gabriel are sitting on the other.
“What was that for?” Gabriel asks suspiciously. Dean shrugs.
“You two looked uncomfortable,” he explains. Right on cue, Castiel sends another one of his die, arsehole glares at Gabriel. Dean remains oblivious, but Sam sees it and smirks. Gabriel sneers at them both.
Gabriel still doesn’t know why Dean’s friends all hate him. Is it because he’s a Slytherin or because of that prank involving a stolen textbook, slap-happy pissed off women, and a chainsaw murderer? Because he knows that last prank was kind of out of hand, but Dean didn’t seem to mind it. Hell, he thought it was funny. It was funny. People laughed. Lots of people laughed!
A silence descends on them once again, only this time (and Gabriel knows it’s only because of Dean) it’s not awkward. Dean stuffs himself with sweets while being oblivious to things around him. Sam reads a book Gabriel’s never seen before called Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, and the picture at the front doesn’t move. It’s weird and kind of creepy. Castiel stares at Dean, and Gabriel stares at Castiel staring at Dean. And Dean’s either still oblivious, or he’s way too used to being stared at by Castiel. Gabriel really hopes it’s the former.
“So…” Gabriel tries. “Anything new this year?”
“Dean says now that Oliver is gone I can be Keeper,” Castiel says randomly.
“That’s good.” The Slytherin nods, “I’m Quidditch Captain of the Slytherin team.”
Castiel raises an eyebrow, and Gabriel wonders why everyone Dean knows is so fond of raising their eyebrows. Oddly enough, it’s the most emotion Gabriel’s ever seen on the other Gryffindor’s face. You know, if sarcastic incredulity is an emotion. Gabriel doesn’t think so. Can one feel sarcastic?
“Cas is gonna be the best Keeper, huh Cas?” Dean grins at Castiel, bumps his shoulder.
Castiel - get this - smiles. He honest-to-god smiles. It’s freaking unbelievable. “I do not believe anyone so far has been able to surpass Oliver Wood in skill.”
“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be great,” Dean grins again, harder, at Castiel, who smiles even wider at the second (repeated, Gabriel thinks grumpily) compliment, staring deep into Dean’s eyes. What’s worse is that Dean reciprocates; looks back into Castiel’s eyes like they hold the secrets of the universe. Gabriel thinks he might puke. Sam simply smiles; mutters a light get a room.
When Dean finally, finally tears his gaze from Castiel, he turns to Gabriel. “Dude,” he says enthusiastically, “This year is gonna be amazing!”
“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees weakly. Damn it. Dean. Too pretty, not too smart, and too goddamn oblivious. Gabriel kind of wants to kick something, or at the very least pull some new prank that’ll make the first-years cry.
Come to think of it, Gabriel doesn’t get why he’s trying so hard. It’s never happened before, not even to that really hot Ravenclaw 7th year when he was still in the 5th, the one with really nice red hair.
Gabriel cackles evilly and dances around in the still-warm tears of anguish and despair shed by the first years, revelling in his power.
Okay, not really. But still, he made some first years cry, and it felt amazing. It was like a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders. So what if Dean sent him a disapproving look? Dean isn’t the boss of him. He didn’t even issue a detention, or take points off, or whatever else Head Boys are supposed to do. How did Dean even become Head Boy? He failed his History of Magic O.W.L. Maybe Dumbledore really likes him. Why is Gabriel even thinking of Dean anyway? He needs to stop. This is a Dean-free zone, this Slytherin common room is.
Gabriel’s so engrossed in rewinding the fabulous prank he pulled on the first years in his head and not thinking of Dean Winchester that he doesn’t even notice Draco Malfoy until he’s practically standing on top of Gabriel.
“And what do you want?” Gabriel asks rather rudely, mostly because that was his intention.
“Where’s Winchester?” Malfoy sneers.
Gabriel glances at the clock. 11:30. “Probably sleeping.”
Malfoy snorts. “You know, I never got why you would want to talk to him.” He spits out the word as if it had personally offended him.
“I like him,” Gabriel replies blandly.
“That’s the biggest problem.” Malfoy bends down. “I’m trying to give you advice, Slytherin to Slytherin. The Dark Lord is back, no matter how hard they try to hide it. Keep being friends with that Gryffindor, and the Dark Lord might take it the wrong way. Keep being friends with him, and he might woo you over to his side, and when we win, you’ll die. So take my advice. Stop talking to him.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel snorts, “But no thanks.”
“Fine. Your funeral.”
Gabriel goes back to fantasising about the tears of the first-years, but something Malfoy says sticks with him.
He knows that the Dark Lord is back - he’s heard Michael celebrate it. And Malfoy is right - if the Dark Lord thinks Gabriel is on the side of the Order, then he’s going to die.
He doesn’t want to die.
Gabriel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. It’s okay, he tells himself, the Dark Lord is still in hiding. You can worry about it later.
Just worry about it later.
“Head Boy! How’s the academic life going for ya?” Gabriel slings an arm over Dean’s shoulder. Dean pushes it away.
“You’re in the same classes as me.”
“No I’m not,” Gabriel objects, “I don’t want to be an Auror.” Plus, he’s a Slytherin. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t share all classes together, but there is a lot. Gabriel thinks Dumbledore did that deliberately to promote inter-house unity. Like that will happen.
“I don’t either,” Dean argues, “I’m gonna continue the family business. Auror is Plan B.”
Castiel snorts disapprovingly. Gabriel frowns, confused.
“What is the family business?”
Dean shrugs, suddenly not wanting to talk. Castiel places a hand behind Dean’s back and leads him away. The other man waves to Gabriel, but lets Castiel drag him away, hand on his back and everything.
Draco Malfoy catches his eye and smirks. Gabriel narrows his eyes and jinxes Malfoy when he turns away.
Something’s going on between Dean and Castiel, and Dean’s hiding something. Something that is not what’s going on between him and Castiel. Gabriel’s determined to know what.
“You want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”
Dean frowns, “Didn’t we already do this?”
“Yup. But I figured I should try it again. Plus, I thought we would go to Three Broomsticks.”
“Oh, so like a real date. Like, romantically. Okay.”
“Great,” Gabriel winks theatrically, “I’ll see you there.”
Dean and Gabriel meets each other in Three Broomsticks. They settle in a table, smiling. They flirt with Madame Rosmerta, and neither of them care they did it. Dean orders a butterbeer, as does Gabriel. Of course, they don’t order the same food. Dean and Gabriel laugh and joke and talk of their favourite food, and favourite music. Dean apparently likes a Muggle band named Led Zeppelin, and really likes pie. He’s not too big into reading, and he likes Muggle things called ‘movies’, which apparently are people in an oversized picture frame.
“So,” Gabriel starts, “Tell me about your life.” He deliberately links his fingers together, one from each hand touching his lip. Leaning forward ever slightly, Gabriel tries his best to look like a journalist.
Dean snorts, “You sound like an interviewer. Tell me about yours first.”
Gabriel shrugs, leaning back on his chair, “I have three older brothers - Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael. But you already know that. You know about my father too. So, Michael was Head Boy, and a Prefect, and Dad adored him. But not as much as Lucifer. It was just that they didn’t get along.”
Dean smiles and nods sympathetically. “It’s the same with Sammy.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees, “Raphael and I didn’t get as much attention, and then Luci left. So,” he shrugs, makes a vague motion with his hands just to occupy them. Takes a sip of his butterbeer.
Dean nods again sombrely, “I know.” But he smiles, steering the conversation to a happier place, “You know, once Sammy and I had a prank war…”
Dean goes on to describe the pranks they pulled on each other, from itching powder to glued bottles to creepy dolls staring at you and so much more, finally escalating to something called Nair in Sam’s shampoo.
“Sam was so pissed at me,” Dean laughs at the memory, “He couldn’t live without his hair. Didn’t even want to show his face at school.”
Gabriel grins. Now that would be a fun prank to use on Michael.
The date went great, they finished all of the delicious foods, flirted with Madame Rosmerta, and walked home. It wasn’t even cold, which it by all rights shouldn’t be, but where ever the hell Hogwarts is has wonky weather. So.
Now they are in front of the Gryffindor Common Room, and really, Gryffindors have a freaking Fat Lady on/as their door, how stupid is that? They stare at each other, and Gabriel kisses Dean hesitantly.
It is freaking awesome, and Dean has such soft, warm lips and tastes just like butterbeer and candy.
***
Quidditch try-outs were horrible. Gabriel doesn’t even want to talk about it. Or even think about it. The team is horrifying. And practice isn’t much better either.
At least Dean understands his pain.
***
So one day Dean just spontaneously jogs up to him, ignoring the stares and whispers. He goes right in, invades Gabriel’s personal space the same way Castiel still invades Dean’s, even though Dean and Gabriel are going out. He presses his lips to Gabriel’s ear, warm breath brushing past his sensitive skin.
“All work no play,” he whispers, and what is Dean talking about?!
Then he grins, winks, and saunters off.
Gabriel is so freaking confused, until Tessa tells him that the Heads have their own bedrooms, and they have passwords.
At night, he rushes to Dean’s room.
“So, anything new going on in your life?” Gabriel asks, staring up at the ceiling.
“You know what’s going on,” Dean replies. He punches the sheets lightly, stares as the bright red comforter blooms up.
“I know what went up,” Gabriel smirks.
Dean kicks him under the covers. He sighs. “Sorry,” he admits, “I’m not used to this.”
“Me neither.”
They exchange understanding glances.
“You did what?” Sam Winchester shrieks, and Gabriel, along with what seems like the entire population of Hogwarts, turns to look at the Winchesters.
Dean shushes Sam, and they are joined by Castiel. The trio pushes their heads together, looking like they are arguing. Gabriel stands up, sneaks near the Hufflepuff table because it’s the closest to where they’re sitting.
“…don’t know why you’re doing this,” Sam is whispering, “It’s stupid and you know what he is.”
“He’s fine. He’s a good person,” Dean defends.
“What about after you finish? Are you going to bring him with you when you follow in your Father’s footsteps?” That’s Castiel.
Gabriel frowns. He has no idea what they are talking about, and that’s the bad part.
Dean knows almost everything about them. What does Gabriel know about Dean? Hell, Gabriel doesn’t even know why Dean came here, if they’re Americans. Gabriel figured that he should know. They are dating, after all.
“…doesn’t have to know,” Dean was saying. Gabriel frowns. He decides to just go.
Just before Gabriel leaves, he sees Castiel rest his hand on Dean’s, and Dean doesn’t push it off.
A week after, Gabriel and Dean lay once again on Dean’s gold and red bed in his fancy new Head Boy room. The room is grand, bigger than Gabriel’s entire dorm room that he shares with four other boys. It also has a better view, stretching out over the Quidditch fields and the Forbidden Forest, although under the lake is still pretty cool. The suckers on the Giant Squid’s tentacles freak Gabriel out, though. A golden crystal chandelier hangs over the massive bed, one without the curtains. The walls are painted white, with Dean’s Led Zeppelin posters, as well as some involving a man dressed peculiarly, one where he seems to be wearing a blanket. One has people wielding coloured swords. Muggles are weird. There are large, squishy couches and mahogany desks, presumably for homework, and a large bookshelf with only the top shelf filled.
“Admiring the view?” Dean drawls.
“It’s the only thing to look at,” Gabriel replies lazily.
They kiss hungrily, grinding against each other, tugging at short hair. Then, Gabriel breaks away, panting.
“Tell me about your family,” he demands.
Dean looks confused, “Why?”
“I told you all about mine. Tell me about yours.”
Dean now looks uncomfortable, and squirms a little. “Do I have to?”
“Yes!” Gabriel exclaims. “At least tell me how you got in from America.”
The other man sighs, “Fine. Um, so I was staying at this motel-”
“Why were you staying at a motel?”
“Because we just moved!” Dean snaps, and then takes a deep, calming breath. “So I was going to sleep, and then I heard a little tapping noise on the window. At first, I thought it was … something weird. Maybe a ghost,” He laughs lightly, “And then I look at the window and I see a huge fucking owl, tapping at the glass. It was carrying a letter, so I let it in. Poor thing was exhausted.
“Then the door was knocked, and Sammy opened it. He was just seven, and my dad was there too. McGonagall let herself in, acting just like herself. She told me that I was accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Dad just flipped. Told her no way in hell that I was going to the UK to learn magic. So they sent us to our rooms, and screamed at each other. Next thing I knew, I was going to Hogwarts. Not that I really wanted to. But I got over it.” Dean shrugs.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was in Texas. This is Scotland. It’s a long way. Plus, I don’t like the idea of leaving Sammy alone.”
Oh. Gabriel nods with supreme understanding. “So is that it?”
Dean hesitates for a second too long, “Yes.”
Yeah right.
“Good,” Gabriel forces out.
Christmas break comes. He’s staying, he always stays for breaks - would gladly stay for summer if it means getting away from his family, but Gabriel raises his eyebrow in disbelief as Dean admits that he and Sam are staying for the break too.
“Don’t you always go home?” he asks. They did, anyway. Before Sam came to Hogwarts, Gabriel remembers Dean rushing back every time he can, and sometimes when he can’t. Hell, every day Dean would get a letter and every day he would send one.
“Dad’s busy.”
“He’s always busy,” Sam snarls, “It’s Christmas and he doesn’t even bother to-”
“Drop it, Sammy,” his brother cuts in wearily.
The little Ravenclaw’s forehead wrinkles, his eyes squint and lips twist. Gabriel thinks that this is what Dean calls Sam’s bitch face. Sam crosses his arms over his chest.
Behind Sam’s back, Dean shoots Gabriel a rather lecherous and very suggestive grin, one that Gabriel returns.
On Christmas Day, Gabriel wakes up to his dorm covered in holly and flickering lights. He groans, but then realises one essential, amazing thing.
Presents.
He jumps out of his green and silver bed, rushing over to the foot of his bed. There is a small pile of presents, all decked out in different colours.
Michael, the douche, gives him a book. His uncle Zachariah gives him a book too, on etiquette, which is even worse. With a disgusted snort, Gabriel tosses the two books away. Raphael sends him sweets, and Lucifer gives him a trick wand that beat him around the head when waved. It looks vaguely familiar. Gabriel just can’t believe that Lucifer gave him a freaking gift.
Gabriel tosses out the green and silver coloured box with the name Draco Malfoy scrawled on it in admittedly good writing with disgust, not casting a second look at it.
Dean’s gift is wrapped with newspaper, Fudge waving his podgy hand at Gabriel despite being squished under another layer. Gabriel laughs, and tears it open straight across Fudge’s face.
It’s a huge box of Skiving Skyboxes, something the Weasley twins are selling the students of Hogwarts, and a fanged Frisbee. Gabriel laughs, thinking of the Weasley twin’s faces as Head Boy walks up to them and demands a box. The Weasley twins weren’t happy with Dean being the new Head Boy either. Knowing Dean, he could have confiscated it, and Gabriel just knows Dean confiscated the Frisbee from some unsuspecting first-year just to give it to him. Dean’s a horrible Head Boy.
At breakfast, Dean and Gabriel make out enthusiastically, ignoring Castiel’s death glare and Sam’s overzealous gags. Dean’s hair is dyed green and red from Gabriel’s exploding present, but he doesn’t seem to care. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle and McGonagall looks like part of her was melting with the sweetness of it all and another part of her just wants to stop all of the PDA. Snape, as always, looks like there is something sour under his nose.
“Okay now quit it,” Sam snaps.
“How about I remove the stick up your arse?” Gabriel offers rudely, pissed at being interrupted. Dean glowers at him, and Gabriel gawks. Stupid arsehole always defends his brother. Always!
“Why do you always do that?” he snaps.
“Do what?” Okay, Dean honestly looks confused. How can anyone be that oblivious?
“Stick up for him! He could be the stupidest idiot sometimes, and no matter what you always defend him!”
Sam rolls his eyes.
“I stick up for him because he’s my brother!” Dean snaps back hotly, fingering the bronze pendant he always has around his neck, “He’s my family and it’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Sam rolls his eyes again.
“You sound like you’re brainwashed!” Gabriel snarled.
Sam nods. What in Merlin’s name…?
Dean gives Sam a look that says they’ve been doing this for way too long, but is still somehow hurt that Sam would nod at what Gabriel said. He looks up to the ceiling of the Great Hall, blanketed with white, and sighs dramatically.
“Screw this,” he says, and stomps the hell out of the Great Hall.
Sam and Gabriel glare at each other furiously, both blaming each other for Dean’s little bitch fit.
Castiel throws his hands up in exasperation and rushes after Dean. Whatever, Gabriel thinks; I’m not his best friend. I don’t even know his father’s name.
Gabriel stomps to Dean’s room, not knowing why he’s even there. He’s not apologising to Dean; he doesn’t even know why he should. Apologise, that is. Spitting out the password, he barges into the room, deciding to screw all who hears, and prepares himself for giving Dean a piece of his mind.
Dean and Castiel are on the bed. Together. Closely together. Very closely.
Gabriel’s eyes grow wide as he takes in what’s in front of him. On the large red and gold bed that Dean and Gabriel have christened hundreds of times over, Dean is leaning against Castiel’s skinny chest. Castiel was saying something to Dean, and his hand is on Dean’s head, gripping his arm. Of course, now they’re both staring at Gabriel with freakishly huge green and blue eyes, in shock.
Screw it, Gabriel decides, and strides the hell out of there, slamming the door on his way.
Contrary to popular belief, Gabriel has more friends than just Dean.
“So you and Winchester broke up?” Balthazar asks Gabriel, who sulks and glowers back at him.
“Maybe,” he admits grudgingly.
“What happened?” the other Slytherin inquires.
“It’s nothing!” Gabriel snaps. “And none of your business.”
Balthazar raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine.”
“You and Winchester broke up?” An interested voice cuts in behind them, and they spin around. The first thing Gabriel sees is a black suit, so different from the normal robes. The man is not tall, rather average height, as opposed to, say, Dean Winchester and way taller than Sam Winchester. He’s old, but not too old, with grey eyes and black hair.
Professor Crowley, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
“Damn,” he says with some regret. “That was basically the most entertaining thing around here. We’ve been betting on how long you’ll last.”
“You what?” Gabriel barks.
“Snape won, damn it! I can’t stand that git!” Crowley rages suddenly. He sends them a wounded look, “How could you?”
“How could I?” Gabriel sputters. “You people are betting on me! And Dean!”
“Were betting on you. I, at least, thought you’d last this year,” Crowley grumbles. “McGonagall thought you’d stop around the N.E.W.Ts. ‘Course, Dumbledore that you’d be together forever. Moron.” He glares at Gabriel, “As are you and that idiot Winchester. I worked hard for that money!”
Gabriel gapes, and Balthazar sniggers. Crowley fixes Gabriel with a stern glare, “I’m setting up a new bet, and you’d better get back together before the year ends.” He turns on his heels and swaggers off.
“Like hell!” Gabriel snarls venomously.
Balthazar looks at Gabriel curiously, “Why?”
Gabriel glares at Balthazar, “Don’t ask.”
Gabriel stuffs himself with candy and pies during dinner, completely ignoring the Gryffindor table. He savours the sweetness flooding his mouth, moaning ecstatically, and there’s a tap on the table. He looks up.
Dean Winchester is still so very handsome, tall with pouty lips and big emerald green eyes and caramel freckles dotting his high cheekbones and straight nose. Blond-yet-somehow-brunette hair spiked in the same way Gabriel knows that takes around fifteen minutes to do. His eyes aren’t red or swollen, cheeks aren’t flushed, and he doesn’t look angry; there’s nothing to suggest that he feels bad about the break up.
“What do you want?” Gabriel snaps.
“Um,” Dean begins, “Apparently we broke up?”
He doesn’t even know? Gabriel caught Dean on his bed with Castiel, the same of Castiel who places his hand on Dean’s and stares deeply into Dean’s eyes and invades Dean’s personal space and Dean doesn’t even do anything about it. And apparently, Dean doesn’t know what’s going on.
“Yes!” Gabriel shouts, “We did!”
“Why?” Dean looks confused. Dean. Looks. Confused! Gabriel can honestly say he’s never met a more oblivious person before in his life.
“You know why, Dean!”
“No,” Dean says slowly, “I don’t.”
“Castiel!” Gabriel’s sick of Dean’s idiocy, “I know about you and him - I should have known before. You two are obvious, so obvious is sickening and I can’t even believe I didn’t notice it! And also, what do I know about you? I know you’re from America and that you almost didn’t come here, and that you were in Texas back then. I guessed, from your brother and Castiel and what you said, that your Dad’s an overprotective bastard-”
“- no he’s not,” Dean immediately says.
“And I also guessed that you really like your father, and that you’re close. I know that your little brother is your life, and that your mom died. I don’t know your dad’s name, or how you met Castiel. You know my brothers’ names, my family history, and my parents’ names. I don’t know anything about you, and you know everything about me!”
“Look,” Dean says, “I’m not good at that shit. Talking, I mean. About feelings. I just -” He heaves a deep breath, closes his eyes. “I’ll just go.”
Gabriel simply nods, and Dean gives this tight, sad smile, like Gabriel’s breaking up with him and Dean is just going to give up and let him go like that old Muggle saying he read about. Seriously, the audacity of that boy!
And Gabriel still remembers Dean not saying anything about him and Castiel. That, if anything, serves as confirmation.
Then, he realises that the entire Slytherin table is staring at him, Draco Malfoy smirking, Balthazar with a contemplating look.
Well, on the bright side, at least now he knows the Dark Lord won’t attempt to kill him because of his association.
“At least you got rid of him, despite making a fool of yourself.” Malfoy smirks. “I’m sure the Dark Lord would show you special consideration later on.”
“Silencio,” Gabriel says with a snarl, standing up from his position on a couch, and points his wand at the little brat.
Malfoy chokes, clutching at his throat, suddenly rendered mute. He glares at Gabriel with cold grey eyes that promise vengeance, and scrambles out, his two large, lumbering goons following him.
“Nice one,” Balthazar says. Gabriel grins, and pops a lemon drop in his mouth.
An hour later, Draco and crew come back, Draco tattling his mouth off to Crowley as the professor grins lightly.
“Morgenstern,” Crowley motions to Gabriel, “Detention. My office. Every Friday night until I say so.”
Friday night?! Gabriel gapes; he has stuff to do on Friday night! Mostly with Dean-
Right. Friday night is fine.
“Look on the bright side,” Balthazar says cheerfully, “Least you have something to do now on Friday nights without looking like an antisocial arsehole.”
“What, you mean my bi-monthly blood orgies aren’t enough?” Gabriel snorts, and shoves a handful of lemon drops in his mouth. Damn it, he is not an antisocial arsehole.
“So, where’s your friend? What’s his name…Balthazar?” Crowley asks idly, flipping through paperwork.
“He’s on a bender with a giraffe named Dave.” Actually, Balthazar is supposed to be on a date. Gabriel doesn’t think so. It’s less because he doesn’t think Balthazar can get a date and more because Balthazar was tugging at the collar of his robe - a big tell for him. But maybe he’s just nervous about the date, not the lie.
Nah, it’s totally the lie. Why would Balthazar go on a date? Seven years and Gabriel never remembers Balthazar going on a date. Okay, so he only completely realised Balthazar existed a year ago, but he knows the guy. Really.
“Is that so?” Crowley seems to be exhibiting interest. It feels vaguely threatening.
“Yup.”
“For how long?” the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wonders.
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks. “It’s a bloody bender. However long he wants.”
Crowley sighs. “There’s paperwork on the desk.” He flails an arm vaguely towards a desk. “Get to work.”
Gabriel directs his gaze to a small desk in the middle of the front row, one with a rather large pile of parchment stacked on top of it. Gabriel groans in despair, trudging towards the pile of doom as if walking through thick, viscous mud.
One week later, Dean is arguing with Sam again. They seem to do that a lot lately. Gabriel is kind of pleased, in a non-caring way. Today, they walk to the Great Hall arguing. It’s better than the hallway yet worse than in the classroom: less attention, yet somehow more at the same time.
Gabriel doesn’t care about anything right now except for the delicious, sugary tart in his hand right now. He’s pretty sure that, judging from the look on Balthazar’s face, he’s making obscene orgasmic noises. He doesn’t really care.
Yesterday’s detention was horrible. Crowley drilled Gabriel on his and Dean’s relationship while Balthazar was on another “date”. It was very invasive. Gabriel doesn’t even want to think about it.
He stuffs another tart into his mouth. Balthazar sighs.
“You and Dean get back together yet?” Crowley asks, drinking something Gabriel knows is not apple juice, no matter how much the Professor insists. Gabriel sighs, looking longingly out the widow. It’s Friday again, a day Gabriel has come to dread, and apparently Balthazar has another date. It’s like his date doesn’t exist until Friday. Well, except for the fact that he gets steadily more excited until Friday, when he’s just plain unbearable.
“We’re not going to,” Gabriel snaps, dotting an ‘i’ extra hard and poking a hole through the parchment. “Damn it!”
Crowley waves it off, “Why not?”
“Because we’re not,” Gabriel replies stubbornly. “Does a Defence professor really have that much paperwork?”
“’S not for defence,” Crowley grins easily, “Just contracts for some deals I made.”
“What deals?”
“None of your business, you moron. Get back to work.”
Gabriel’s pretty sure that a professor is not supposed to call a student moron. Then again, last year Mad-Eye Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret and Snape constantly calls his students lazy dunderheads, which is nothing compared to what he calls Harry Potter. So.
He sighs, flipping to another ungodly long contract. He’s pretty sure he saw the words Sam, Dean, and Canada. Gabriel shouldn’t want to know. In fact, he shouldn’t even talk about it.
“So,” Gabriel begins, “About Canada-”
“Just do it!” Crowley snaps.
Seriously, who does their contracts in Latin anyway?
“Alright.” Balthazar slams his hands down on the table, “This is enough.”
“Enufwut?” Gabriel mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate frog. He chews harder.
“You’re moping. Get a girl,” the other Slytherin snaps. “Or do you exclusively bat for the other team?”
Gabriel swallows.
“I’m not moping. I don’t mope. Ever.”
Balthazar glares at Gabriel. “Fine. You don’t mope. Also, Dean’s ugly as hell and I’m shorter than you.”
“Shut up.”
“Look,” Balthazar sighs; he points to a random girl with curly blonde hair. “Daphne Greengrass. Half-blood, single.”
“Fifth year. It’s probably illegal.”
“Meg Masters? Seventh year, pure blood.”
“No. No way in hell.”
“Why not?”
Gabriel glares at Balthazar. He never liked most of the Slytherins anyway.
“I’m not moping. Go away.”
Balthazar sighs theatrically, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He rolls his eyes and rakes a thin hand through short, spiky blond hair. Like Dean’s.
They just finished getting ready for the day, deciding that they can stay a few minutes. After all, breakfast is optional. Chocolate is not. Plus, everyone is in the Great Hall, including Dean. Not that Gabriel is avoiding Dean at all, but lately Dean looks like he wants to talk to Gabriel, and he doesn’t want to participate in the awkwardness. Also, for some reason, Balthazar seems to want to escape the Great Hall too. Gabriel doesn’t really want to know. Except he does. Then he hears Meg Masters giggling with her equally blonde and equally bitchy sister about Dean and Castiel not being in the Great Hall, which means something.
Gabriel is pretty sure they’re making out in a storage closet somewhere, or maybe the Room of Requirement. He really hopes it’s not the Room of Requirement because Gabriel was the one that showed Dean it in the first place. And he told Dean what it will and can turn to. Dean’s not like some people- he’s not petty or vengeful or just plain mean, although Gabriel admits Dean can be pretty freaking insensitive and really, really oblivious. Still, Dean wouldn’t make out with the guy he cheated on Gabriel with in a room Gabriel told him about. He’s not like that. But Dean and Castiel are still probably making out. Gabriel’s already thought that. Merlin, Gabriel hates that image, it just keeps coming back.
Actually, it’s kind of hot.
“You’re pining,” Balthazar accuses.
“Fuck off,” Gabriel snaps. Gabriel never, ever swears … much. It’s a big thing when he does, and Balthazar knows it. “I’m not pining. I’m Gabriel Morgenstern. Morgensterns don’t pine. I don’t pine.”
“Of course you don’t,” Balthazar sneers sarcastically.
“Look, Dean doesn’t want to -”
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Balthazar rolls his eyes, “It’s always Dean. Forget Dean, and whatever the hell he did to you that was so bad! He’s a child of a blood-traitor and a Muggle, a clueless Yank and he has no brain cells whatsoever. He’s not worth the time.” He takes a deep breath, looks contrite. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well, not all of that. He’s not stupid or clueless. Well, he’s very clueless, but honestly I could care less about his heritage but apparently he did something that makes you sulk non-stop and he doesn’t even care or do anything about it, instead he just-”
“You know,” Gabriel grumbles, interrupting his friend, “I’ve never liked the whole blood prejudice thing.”
Balthazar gawks at him, “Thanks for interrupting me! And what does that mean? Your family was one of the original pure-blood supremacists, and proud of the title. It was a bloody miracle Dean would even talk to you.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m so handsome,” the youngest son of one of the original pure-blood supremacist families snaps back. “He knows I’m not them. We’re not talking about Dean. Ever.”
“Your family wouldn’t mind Winchester anyway. He’s only a half-blood. You just have to worry about his family. What did he even do to you?”
“None of your business.” Gabriel picks up a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles, bites into it. It’s delicious, the chocolate sweet and soft, but not too sweet. The dough is airy, light; the sprinkles crunchy. He thinks he made a pornographic noise.
“That kind of stuff is not allowed in the public,” Professor Crowley scolds. Gabriel and Balthazar jump, swearing in shock. Crowley cuffs the back of their heads for that.
“You and Winchester back yet?”
“You stopping my detention yet?” Gabriel shoots back.
Crowley grins happily. Gabriel freely admits to feeling a bit of fear at that. “See, that’s my miraculous plan. I can’t bother you over the summer, but it’s February. There’s still four months left, and believe me, I will keep you in detention every single week until you and Winchester get back together.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Gabriel says confidently. Crowley smirks.
“Then I guess you’re in detention the entire year.”
“You can’t do that!” The Slytherin blusters.
“Can’t I?” The professor asks rhetorically. He shakes his head, and then winks. “Oh, and remember that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. If there’s any day, it would be tomorrow.”
Valentine’s Day. As if Gabriel’s month isn’t bad enough, it had to be Valentine’s Day.
Balthazar elbows him, “I’ll steal some Firewhiskey for you.”
“Merlin, thank you,” Gabriel sighs.
Valentine’s Day is stupid and pink, and all the happy couples are stuck together like they all used the permanent sticking charm on each other. It’s also a Wednesday, so Gabriel can’t just hole up in the Room of Requirement and drink himself blind, as tempting as the thought might be. He does, however, escape right after class to implement that plan.
He pushes open the door the moment it appears, charging in without a second thought, because all of the couples sucking each other’s face off and proclaiming their love was sickening.
And it’s déjà vu all over again, because Dean and Castiel are in the room, and Castiel is holding Dean. Only, they aren’t on a bed. It’s a couch.
Dean’s head snaps up as the heavy doors slam behind Gabriel, a loud crash echoes through the otherwise empty room. His eyes are wide and glassy, green orbs seemingly larger and clearer than ever. With blond hair mussed and freckles darker than ever, he looks freaking amazing. Like an angel. Castiel’s freakishly blue eyes glare at him with even more hatred than ever before, and his hair is also sticking up in all directions, although it’s hard to tell from its normal style because Castiel’s hair is always so messy. Gabriel has nice hair.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Castiel snarls aggressively, like a protective mama bear. Or a possessive boyfriend.
Dean closes his eyes, “Cas, leave it,” he says gently, softly, all resigned like he was the one hurt and oh look at him he’s so mature and accepting he’s obviously not pissed at all. Gabriel hates it, the bastard.
And apparently, Castiel agrees, because he looks at Dean like the boy’s crazy. However, he stands up along with Dean, and they walk out. Milton glares at Gabriel like he’s the abomination of the earth and the universe. Dean avoids his gaze, staring straight ahead defiantly.
Gabriel sighs, and when the two lovebirds are out of sight, takes a swig of Firewhiskey. The liquor burns sweetly on its way down, a light fire blooming in his belly. Immediately, the room is filled with various forms of liquor. It’s amazing.
He takes another swig.
Part Three Masterpost