random sam/gabriel - Pick-Up Line Hell
because i said i would write it ^o^
"Did it hurt?"
Sam turns. "What?"
"You know." Gabriel looks up to the skies. "When you fell from heaven."
All he gets is another What? This one higher and with an even more pinched voice. Gabriel raises his eyebrows a couple times and waits for a proper answer.
Long legs stride across the room, arms swing as they brush past him, and Sam heads out the back door.
-
When Sam next sees Gabriel, he's patting himself down as though suspecting a loaded bomb might be in one of his pockets.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" is all he says.
Gabriel drops his hands and gives Sam a plaintive look. "I think I lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?"
Sam stops this time, and actually stares at him.
"Well?" Gabriel gives him a big, wide smile. "What do you say?"
"OK, first of all?" Sam's eyebrows bunch up in the middle, and his jaw shifts forward, making him look like a particularly upset Neanderthal. "You're an archangel. You don't need a phone number, yours or mine. Second of all, what the hell, man?" He puts his hands in his pockets and leans forward (and down) toward Gabriel. "That's the second time this week you've tossed me a cheesy pickup line."
Gabriel's expression seems to soften. "Tell you what. We can discuss it over breakfast. Should I call you or nudge you?"
Sam leaves. He's beginning to wonder if Gabriel's been hexed.
-
When Gabriel suggests Sam might have a little archangel in him, then asks if he'd like to, Sam doesn't dignify it with an answer. It doesn't even make sense, if it's not an ethnicity, he wants to say, but it's not even worth his time.
It takes real self-control not to deck Gabriel when he asks for a quarter so he can call Heaven and tell them they're missing an angel. The irony is starting to border on idiocy... or vice versa. It's all too convoluted for Sam to quite tell exactly what it is, besides absurd.
But then Gabriel catches him as he's walking up the stairs and says, with complete seriousness: "You know, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."
And Sam can't quite dismiss it anymore. Because quite frankly, Gabriel could. So why the hell is he sticking to these stupid lines that don't even make any sense? When he has a thousand and one ways to tell Sam whatever it is he's trying to say?
Unless that's all he can do. Unless Gabriel honestly doesn't know how to say what's on his mind. And when has he, really? He's always been about crude metaphors and poetic justice. If Gabriel were actually to care about someone, he wouldn't have a damn clue how to show it.
Sam thinks then that maybe he understands Gabriel a little bit more. And he also kind of thinks it's adorable.
He does a lot of thinking that night.
-
"So Gabriel," Sam calls, behind a motel and looking into a grove of bare trees. "I have a question for you."
A shimmer like the static on a television set, and Gabriel's leaning against a tree, arms crossed, looking suspiciously at him.
Sam saunters up. He's feeling weirdly confident right now, because for once he gets it, he gets Gabriel, and it's a relief. "You know your pickup lines are bad, right?"
Gabriel shrugs. He looks kind of embarrassed, which is an odd look for him. Again, Sam thinks: adorable.
"But I know why you do it." Sam leans over the tree, his forearm against the bark, looking down over Gabriel. The tip of his nose has always struck Sam funny, and now he can't stop gazing at it, even if it's making him cross-eyed. "You don't know how to get close, do you? You can tease people mercilessly, but when it comes to caring? You're not so good."
"Half-right, kemo sabe," Gabriel says, looking fearlessly up into Sam's dark eyes. "That and I didn't trust you to get the point, so I figured I'd be ridiculously obvious so it'd get through that bowling ball you've got for a brain."
"See?" Sam can't stop grinning. "You stick to your own dialogue and you're insulting me before you know it. So you chose a script and you're sticking to it."
"Well, sue the hell out of me!" Gabriel declares, his mouth curling into a surly pout. "You try approaching the first human you've cared about in a thousand years and see how smooth you are. It's kind of--"
Sam cuts him off, because the pout is too good not to kiss.
"I didn't ask my question yet," he murmurs while Gabriel is still flushed and stammering.
He manages: "Quest-- question, right, you did have one of those." Struggling to breathe, he averts his eyes. "Right, so go ahead. Ask away."
Sam lowers his lips to Gabriel's ear. "If I said you had a beautiful body," he murmurs, "would you hold it against me?"
Gabriel doesn't answer in words.
"Did it hurt?"
Sam turns. "What?"
"You know." Gabriel looks up to the skies. "When you fell from heaven."
All he gets is another What? This one higher and with an even more pinched voice. Gabriel raises his eyebrows a couple times and waits for a proper answer.
Long legs stride across the room, arms swing as they brush past him, and Sam heads out the back door.
-
When Sam next sees Gabriel, he's patting himself down as though suspecting a loaded bomb might be in one of his pockets.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" is all he says.
Gabriel drops his hands and gives Sam a plaintive look. "I think I lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?"
Sam stops this time, and actually stares at him.
"Well?" Gabriel gives him a big, wide smile. "What do you say?"
"OK, first of all?" Sam's eyebrows bunch up in the middle, and his jaw shifts forward, making him look like a particularly upset Neanderthal. "You're an archangel. You don't need a phone number, yours or mine. Second of all, what the hell, man?" He puts his hands in his pockets and leans forward (and down) toward Gabriel. "That's the second time this week you've tossed me a cheesy pickup line."
Gabriel's expression seems to soften. "Tell you what. We can discuss it over breakfast. Should I call you or nudge you?"
Sam leaves. He's beginning to wonder if Gabriel's been hexed.
-
When Gabriel suggests Sam might have a little archangel in him, then asks if he'd like to, Sam doesn't dignify it with an answer. It doesn't even make sense, if it's not an ethnicity, he wants to say, but it's not even worth his time.
It takes real self-control not to deck Gabriel when he asks for a quarter so he can call Heaven and tell them they're missing an angel. The irony is starting to border on idiocy... or vice versa. It's all too convoluted for Sam to quite tell exactly what it is, besides absurd.
But then Gabriel catches him as he's walking up the stairs and says, with complete seriousness: "You know, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."
And Sam can't quite dismiss it anymore. Because quite frankly, Gabriel could. So why the hell is he sticking to these stupid lines that don't even make any sense? When he has a thousand and one ways to tell Sam whatever it is he's trying to say?
Unless that's all he can do. Unless Gabriel honestly doesn't know how to say what's on his mind. And when has he, really? He's always been about crude metaphors and poetic justice. If Gabriel were actually to care about someone, he wouldn't have a damn clue how to show it.
Sam thinks then that maybe he understands Gabriel a little bit more. And he also kind of thinks it's adorable.
He does a lot of thinking that night.
-
"So Gabriel," Sam calls, behind a motel and looking into a grove of bare trees. "I have a question for you."
A shimmer like the static on a television set, and Gabriel's leaning against a tree, arms crossed, looking suspiciously at him.
Sam saunters up. He's feeling weirdly confident right now, because for once he gets it, he gets Gabriel, and it's a relief. "You know your pickup lines are bad, right?"
Gabriel shrugs. He looks kind of embarrassed, which is an odd look for him. Again, Sam thinks: adorable.
"But I know why you do it." Sam leans over the tree, his forearm against the bark, looking down over Gabriel. The tip of his nose has always struck Sam funny, and now he can't stop gazing at it, even if it's making him cross-eyed. "You don't know how to get close, do you? You can tease people mercilessly, but when it comes to caring? You're not so good."
"Half-right, kemo sabe," Gabriel says, looking fearlessly up into Sam's dark eyes. "That and I didn't trust you to get the point, so I figured I'd be ridiculously obvious so it'd get through that bowling ball you've got for a brain."
"See?" Sam can't stop grinning. "You stick to your own dialogue and you're insulting me before you know it. So you chose a script and you're sticking to it."
"Well, sue the hell out of me!" Gabriel declares, his mouth curling into a surly pout. "You try approaching the first human you've cared about in a thousand years and see how smooth you are. It's kind of--"
Sam cuts him off, because the pout is too good not to kiss.
"I didn't ask my question yet," he murmurs while Gabriel is still flushed and stammering.
He manages: "Quest-- question, right, you did have one of those." Struggling to breathe, he averts his eyes. "Right, so go ahead. Ask away."
Sam lowers his lips to Gabriel's ear. "If I said you had a beautiful body," he murmurs, "would you hold it against me?"
Gabriel doesn't answer in words.