Dynamic Equilibrium - Part Three
3.
Dean wakes all of a sudden, feeling calm and refreshed. He’s in a DoD cage and he’s just had the best sleep he’s had in…ever. He stretches and rolls onto his back and fuck! His ass is maybe a little tenderer than he’d realized.
Dean gets up, feeling rested and energized. He uses the can in the corner of the cage and wipes his hands and face with the wet wipes provided. The water jug has been filled sometime during the night and Dean helps himself to a plastic cup of water. His ass doesn’t hurt at all if he doesn’t touch it. Dean pokes at it and grins. Gabriel sure knows how to give a spanking.
The door into the cells slides open just as Dean is considering whether or not he should put his jeans on. It’s Gabriel and he’s carrying a tray.
Dean can’t quite help the smile that lights up his face. “Aw baby,” he says, “you brought me breakfast.”
Gabriel’s answering grin is maybe a touch relieved. “I did,” he says. He approaches the cage and Dean surprises them both by dropping to his knees, legs spread and palms resting on his thighs. His embarrassment, when he realizes what he’s just done, is crushing and it’s only years of training that keep him from folding in on himself. The throb of pain from where his heels are digging into his ass helps ground him too.
“Dean?”
He keeps his eyes lowered.
“Look at me, Dean.”
Dean finds himself unable to resist a direct order from the Dom, even though a subtle sniff tells him that Gabriel isn’t releasing any pheromones. He thinks that maybe, deep down, he doesn’t want to resist. The look on Gabriel’s face is hard to decipher, but Dean thinks he sees awe and pride and something that he shies away from naming.
“Thank you,” Gabriel says. And then, “I’m supposed to cuff you before I come into the cage.”
Dean starts to move, but Gabriel stops him. “I trust you, Dean. Cross your wrists behind your back.”
Dean complies and Gabriel unlocks the cage. Once again he calls down a chair with his remote control and sits down at Dean’s side.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Gabriel asks.
“Great, actually. I slept really well. My ass hurts a little, but it’s a good kind of pain.”
Gabriel’s eyes are focused on him, watching him intently, and Dean has the sudden thought that the Dom sees far too much, sees right through him to the parts of himself he tries to hide.
Gabriel has brought warm, butter croissants and he pulls them to pieces and feeds them to Dean who is maybe, possibly, a bit of a tease, making sure to close his lips around Gabriel’s fingers and suck the butter off them seductively. Gabriel doesn’t squirm; he’s far too controlled for that, but Dean can see the heat in his eyes. Dean figures that if this were your typical morning after an intense scene, the next thing his lips wrapped around would be the Dom’s cock. He’s surprised when he realizes how disappointed he is that that won’t be happening.
Dean finishes eating and Gabriel wipes his hands before encouraging Dean to lean against his legs. He gently massages
Dean’s shoulders and tells Dean he’s pleased at how loose and relaxed his muscles are.
“Is there anything you need?” he asks.
“A cup of coffee would be nice. Black. Two sugars.”
Gabriel promises to see what he can do. “So,” he says, “You’ll be going before the Judge this afternoon.
Dean closes his eyes. “How quickly do you carry out the sentence around here?”
Gabriel tells him that it’s always within twenty-four hours, unless there’s an appeal.
Dean nods. “What am I likely to get?”
Gabriel purses his lips. “You’re facing serious charges, Dean. The unlicensed Hunting alone carries a penalty of one hundred licks. So does failure to live under the Guardianship of a Dom. The rest of the charges? You’re looking at another one hundred and fifty licks, combined,” Dean can feel the color draining from his face. “The sentence would be broken up into a number of sessions,” Gabriel says, “you wouldn’t get all three hundred and fifty at once,” he clears his throat, “but I’m actually hoping that we’ll be able to get you a suspended sentence.”
“Really? How?”
“You won’t like it.”
Dean snorts. “I bet I’d like getting my ass strapped three hundred and fifty times even less.”
Gabriel nods. “You haven’t been under the Guardianship of a Dom for the past eight years. The law says that you need one; that you’re not competent to fend for yourself without one. We’re going to argue that if you haven’t had a Dom to manage and correct your behavior, then you can’t be held legally liable for it. We’ll get you a Guardian Dom and ask the Judge to suspend the sentence. So long as you stay with the Guardian Dom and keep out of trouble for a set amount of time, the sentence doesn’t get carried out.”
Dean is tense against Gabriel’s leg and he imagines that his scowl is probably impressive. “How long?” he demands.
Gabriel shrugs. “That’s up to the Judge. Could be six months. Could be five years.”
“You’re right,” Dean says, “I don’t like it. The Judge is gonna stick me with some arrogant, asshole Dom who’s gonna beat me and rape me, and there won’t be anything I can do about it and…” Dean takes a deep breath and manages to reel himself in. “I think I’d rather take the licks.”
“I would never advocate something that wasn’t in your best interests, Dean.”
Dean snorts. He’s heard that before. Gordon, in particular, was really fond of telling him it was for his own good while punishing him in horrible, painful, humiliating ways.
Gabriel’s hand cups Dean’s chin and lifts his head, forcing him to meet the Dom’s eyes. “I would never allow you to be placed with someone who would beat you or rape you,” his expression is ferocious. “I hope you can trust me on that.”
Dean closes his eyes. He does trust Gabriel; but Gabriel won’t be the one basically owning his ass. “You got someone in mind?” he asks, meeting the Dom’s eyes again.
Gabriel’s eyes slide away. “Yeah,” he says, “but I don’t want to say too much in case it doesn’t pan out. Just…trust me. Please, Dean?”
He lets go of Dean’s chin and Dean nods his head. What choice does he have?
Gabriel asks him if he owns a suit. Dean has a couple that he uses when he’s impersonating FBI agents so he nods in the affirmative and Gabriel offers to go to Dean’s motel room and pick up a respectable outfit for him to wear before the Judge.
“Thanks,” all Dean’s unlicensed weapons are in his car, the worst the DoD will be able to find in his motel room is his stash of Zero and some more fake IDs.
Gabriel hugs Dean before he leaves and runs a soothing hand up and down his back.
After he’s gone that funny-looking, skinny Sub comes in and brings Dean a coffee.
“Thanks, uh…?”
“Garth. And you’re welcome.”
“Hey, Garth?” Dean says as the Sub turns to leave. “What’s Gabriel like to work with?”
Garth beams. “Gabriel’s awesome. All the Subs here like him.”
“What about the Doms?”
Garth pulls a face. “Depends. The ones who are big on old-fashioned protocols and so on don’t approve of him, but I don’t think he really cares. People say he’s stuck in the Sub Division because he’s a disgrace to his family name, I mean, he’s only a distant cousin to the main family, Dom Charles Archangel’s nephew’s nephew’s cousin or something, but Archangels are supposed to set standards, you know. But you know what?” Garth lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he likes working with Subs who are in trouble.”
“Thanks,” Dean says and sips at his coffee as Garth makes his way out of the Cells.
Now he gets it. Gabriel’s got a hero complex; saving the poor abused Subs in his care is just what he does. Dean should’ve known better than to let himself get attached; Gabriel is nice and caring and supportive to everyone; all the Subs like him. Of course. How stupid of Dean to think that maybe he was somehow personally important to the Dom.
--
Gabriel doesn’t join him for lunch and Dean misses him. And then gets angry at himself for missing him. He’s nice to everyone; you’re nothing special, Winchester. It becomes his mantra.
Gabriel turns up about an hour and a half after lunch, with a suit bag and one of Dean’s duffel bags. He smiles (and Dean’s pulse does not race) and apologizes for missing lunch. He has Dean strip down to his shorts and then cuffs him and leads him to the showers. The first thing he does is sit Dean down on a slatted-wooden bench seat, which causes Dean’s ass to spark with pleasure/pain.
“Knees apart,” the Dom says, and then wheels a stool on castors in between Dean’s spread legs. He sits himself down and hands Dean a bowl of warm water. “Hold that.”
Gabriel lathers Dean’s face and throat with shaving foam and then carefully draws a razor over the area, rinsing the blade in the bowl of water every now and then, until Dean is hairless and smooth. No-one else has ever shaved Dean before and he finds it surprisingly soothing. It also turns him on, just a little, but then again, he’s a guy with a healthy libido who hasn’t had a lot of action lately; at this point it doesn’t take much to turn him on.
Gabriel clears away the shaving gear and takes Dean’s handcuffs off.
“Shower,” he says, handing Dean a miniature bottle of shampoo and tiny bar of soap.
Dean peels off his shorts and heads for one of two shower stalls. There are no privacy screens.
“Hmm,” he hears Gabriel say from behind him, “no bruising or swelling, barely pink. Nice job, Archangel!”
Dean blushes slightly and then turns the shower on before turning to face Gabriel, a shit-eating grin pasted onto his face. “So,” he drawls, “do I have to be careful about dropping the soap?”
Gabriel folds his arms, raises one eyebrow and looks decidedly unimpressed, and okay, that was probably uncalled for. Gabriel’s been nothing but kind and professional and Dean trusts him. He’s just feeling horny. And unsure of himself.
Usually, Dean knows exactly what people want from him and if he wants it too, he gives it to them. Gordon has been the only person (not the only person, his subconscious reminds him; Dean tells it to shut up) to successfully force Dean into giving things he didn’t want to give and Dean has promised himself that will never happen again. He allows himself a moment of introspection as he soaps himself and realizes that he’s trying to goad Gabriel into making some kind of move; into hitting on him or putting him in his place, making it clear he wants nothing that Dean has to offer. He slides a sideways glance at the DoD officer, standing a respectable distance away, arms still folded, and sighs. Gabriel isn’t going to play that game; he’s too professional to resort to anger and he would never make a move on a client.
Dean towels off and dresses in his suit; charcoal-grey, with a pressed-white shirt (which was definitely wrinkled the last time Dean saw it) and a tie patterned in different shades of green. His black shoes have been newly-polished to a high-gloss sheen and when he straightens from tying his laces he opens his arms wide and spins around slowly.
“Well? What d’ya think?” he asks Gabriel.
Gabriel tilts his head to one side and then smiles, a slow, genuine smile. “You scrub up good, Winchester.”
--
The Courthouse is small and unimpressive. The Judge is sitting on an ordinary desk chair behind an ordinary office table. She isn’t in robes; she’s in a black pants suit, her kicked-off high-heels lying askew beneath the table. She has a manila folder on the table in front of her and she opens it and glances at the top sheet.
There’s a long table in front of the Judge, big enough for maybe six people to sit at. Gabriel sits on the chair at the end and motions for Dean to kneel beside him. Dean’s hands are cuffed behind him, which makes kneeling gracefully a chore. He manages it anyway, but doesn’t try to keep the scowl of annoyance from his face. The floor is surprisingly soft and Gabriel puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. Dean can’t manage to stop himself from leaning in to the reassuring touch. The Judge notices and smiles benignly at him, which makes Dean’s expression sour. She laughs and looks up at Gabriel. “You’ve managed to land yourself a live one, I see?”
Gabriel murmurs a polite agreement.
The charges against Dean are read out and the Judge asks Gabriel a whole lot of questions about Dean and his background. Gabriel surprises him by being able to answer them very accurately, despite never having discussed Dean’s life and motivations with him ever. Dean scowls at the carpet. It seems like Gabriel and the Judge are going to sort this out between them, without any input from Dean.
“Excuse me,” Dean says eventually.
The Judge frowns. “Instruct your client to remain silent,” she says to Gabriel.
Gabriel looks at him and raises an eyebrow.
“What if I want to add something?” Dean whispers.
“Turn to look at me and I’ll excuse myself to Judge Moseley and we’ll have a quick discussion. Do you want to add something?”
“No. Not yet. I just wanted to know if I was allowed to have a say.”
Gabriel apologizes to the Judge and they resume their conversation about the serious impact living without a Dom has caused to Dean’s health and well-being, both physical and emotional. It’s all blah, blah, blah and Dean is completely zoned out until Gabriel starts talking about his brainwave patterns.
“Sub Winchester has been self-medicating with Zero,” Gabriel says, “but what he hasn’t realized - what a lot of people fail to realize, despite the public health campaigns-is that Zero might help with the neurochemical imbalances, but it does nothing at all for the brain wave issues. If Sub Winchester keeps living like he’s been living, he’ll be permanently comatose by fifty.”
And okay, Dean isn’t actually expecting to live that long; he’s a solo Hunter after all, but to hear it put so starkly makes his stomach churn.
The Judge rifles through the papers in the manila folder, head down and lips pursed.
“Alright,” she says, “I have a Temporary Guardianship Order here nominating yourself,” she nods at Gabriel, “as Guardian, with an accompanying letter of approval from Dom Samuel Winchester. I’m going to approve that Order. Sub Winchester is sentenced to three hundred and fifty Licks, to be wholly suspended for twelve months. During that twelve months Sub Winchester must remain under your Guardianship and he must not engage in any prohibited activity. After twelve months we’ll reassess.”
She stamps a bunch of papers and hands one of them across to Gabriel. “He’s free to go.”
Gabriel shakes her hand and stands up, but Dean is still stuck on the fact that Gabriel volunteered to be his Guardian and Sam somehow found out about it and gave his approval. Why didn’t Dad give his approval? Dean swallows around the sudden lump of fear in his throat. Is it possible…could Dad be…
“Let’s go, Dean,” Gabriel says.
Dean goes to stand and then freezes in horror when he realizes that Gabriel has clipped a leash to his collar.
Gabriel leans in close. “It’s mandatory when you’re leaving court,” he says, “Like the way they make you sit in a wheelchair when you leave hospital. I promise I’ll take it off as soon as we’re in the car.”
Gabriel keeps his promise, unclipping the leash and throwing it in the glove box with a shudder as soon as Dean closes his door. “I hate those,” he says.
Dean huffs. “You hate them,” he mutters.
Gabriel stares at him, his brown eyes wide and sincere. “I know you must have questions,” he says. “But how about we get home first and then we’ll talk?”
Dean fakes a smile. “You’re the Dom,” he says.
--
Gabriel’s house surprises Dean. It is a tan-colored ranch-style family home with a double garage and a carefully manicured front lawn. The only thing missing is a white picket fence. He’s even more surprised when Gabriel clicks the remote to open the garage and he sees Baby parked inside.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Gabriel says, “I took the liberty of retrieving her from outside Cunningham’s. I’ve taken care of the parking ticket too.”
“How did you find her?” Dean asks.
Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “A nice car like that? Left parked outside one of the town’s better bars? The local PD found it for me in ten minutes.”
“But how did you know it was mine?”
“There’s not a lot I don’t know about you at this point, Dean. I also took the liberty of bringing all your stuff here from your motel room and settling up the account.”
“Right,” Dean nods curtly. “Because you own me now, so you own all my stuff too.”
“I have temporary Guardianship of your stuff,” Gabriel says lightly, “just like I have temporary Guardianship of you. C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
Gabriel’s house is nice inside too; spacious entry hall, farmhouse style kitchen; separate living and family rooms, a formal dining room, a study, a bathroom and a laundry. Dean gets the guided tour. Downstairs first and then upstairs, where there are three bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom has an ensuite and all Dean’s stuff is on the floor next to the master bed.
Dean snorts and turns to Gabriel with wounded eyes. “So much for that pretty speech you gave me. You giving me a choice about this?”
“Let’s discuss it over coffee,” Gabriel replies, turning away and heading downstairs without waiting for Dean to respond.
Dean sinks to his knees beside one of his duffel bags and holds his face in his hands. He could leave. He could just…grab his stuff, get in his car and go. It seems like a sensible plan. Gabriel probably wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Dean searches through his duffel bags. All of his stuff seems to be accounted for, except for the knife that had been underneath his pillow at the motel. Dean’s lips curl. Big surprise his new Dom has confiscated that.
Dean gathers his bags and psyches himself up for a confrontation with Gabriel. He glances around the room that he’s never going to sleep in and his eyes light on the bed; on the pillow on the left side which looks rumpled. On a whim he steps across to it and lifts up the pillow. His knife is underneath it. Dean stares blankly at his large bowie knife until it begins to blur and then he wipes at his eyes and drops his duffel bags back onto the floor next to the bed. He sits on the bed and concentrates on breathing, getting himself back under control. When the trembling has subsided he goes into the ensuite and splashes cold water on his face, before heading downstairs.
Gabriel is in the kitchen, changing the filter on his coffee maker.
“Coffee?”
Dean nods. “Black, two sugars.”
“I remember. Do you like pie? I’ve got a banana and caramel pie in the fridge.”
“Sounds awesome.”
Gabriel tells him to cut them both a slice and they move around the kitchen together with the ease of an old couple who’ve been moving in tandem all their lives.
“So,” says Gabriel, once they’re seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, “You’re bound to have questions. Shoot.”
Dean has questions and then some. In fact he isn’t quite sure where to start. He takes a sip of his coffee; rich and bitter and then has a mouthful of pie which makes him groan out loud. “Oh, this is good,” he says.
“I take my desserts very seriously,” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows.
“Why are you doing this?” Dean blurts
“Why did I take on your Guardianship?”
Dean nods.
“I like you,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “And it seemed to me that we would probably get along well and enjoy each other’s company. Also, the idea of someone as bright and competent as you ending up in State makes me feel physically ill. Seemed like a win/win.”
Dean nods and runs a hand over his jaw. “Is my Dad dead?” he asks.
Gabriel explains the process that led him to Sam and Dean can feel his heart expanding with pride and joy as Gabriel relays his conversation with Mister Winchester.
“Yeah, that’s my Sammy,” he says fondly. “I can’t believe he ditched Hunting to go to Stanford. I bet Dad was pissed.”
“Cut him off as I understand it,” Gabriel says. “But your brother’s a smart kid. He got himself a full ride.”
Dean beams with pride.
“He wants to come and visit,” Gabriel says. “He’s busy with law school interviews right now, and you and I need some time to get settled anyway, but I told him he could come up for Thanksgiving, if you were agreeable. Unfortunately they’d already agreed to go to Jess’s family for Thanksgiving, and then they have Autumn quarter exams. Long story short, as long as it’s okay with you, they’re going to come up for Christmas. ”
“Hell, yes,” says Dean.
He eats some more pie and Gabriel sips at his coffee-some God-awful looking concoction with a ton of whipped cream on the top. There’s a long moment of silence, which Dean is surprised to find isn’t really awkward.
“More questions?” Gabriel says finally.
Dean pushes his empty plate away and picks up his coffee. “Maybe you could just tell me how things are gonna work and what you expect from me?”
“Okay,” Gabriel purses his lips and tilts his head thoughtfully. “I expect you to obey the law; no Hunting, no impersonating Doms, no going on the run, no taking Zero,” he pauses and looks hard at Dean.
Dean nods, in understanding, not necessarily agreement.
“As far as we’re concerned,” Dean’s breath hitches; this part will determine how likely he is to go on the run. “I’m a pretty low protocol kind of guy; most of the time we’re just gonna be two guys, sharing a house. But there are some things I’m going to put my foot down about.”
Here we go, Dean thinks cynically.
“Firstly, you and I are going to share a bed. That doesn’t mean we’re going to be sexually intimate. You need a lot of body contact to help repair the damage your solitary lifestyle over the last eight years has caused to your health.”
Okay, Dean thinks, that doesn’t sound too bad.
“Of course you won’t be having sex with anyone else while you’re under my Guardianship, and you won’t be masturbating either. If you want sex, it’s going to be with me. But I won’t force the issue.”
Dean laughs. “Oh that’s rich. I’m a twenty-six-year-old guy with a healthy libido. We both know I’m not gonna be able to go a whole year without sex.”
Gabriel smiles ruefully. “Dean I like you a lot and I’m very attracted to you. I want you to submit to me sexually, but I don’t want a sex slave. I don’t want someone who genuinely doesn’t have a choice, someone who I can rape at will and they have no recourse. I want a voluntary exchange of power. If you don’t want that, that’s fine, we’ll keep sex out of the equation.”
Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Can I think about it?”
“I insist you think about it.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Like I said, I’m pretty low protocol, but every evening we’ll have a period of somewhat higher protocol,” Dean’s face hardens. “A little before nine thirty every evening,” Gabriel continues, oblivious to Dean’s darkening mood, or perhaps just not caring, “you will go to our bedroom and get undressed. Your clothes will either go away or in the washing hamper, as appropriate. You will then come back downstairs, naked, and kneel at my feet. You are to be in place no later than nine thirty. This will be our time; no work, no phone calls, no computers, no television, just you and me, enjoying each other’s company.”
Dean doesn’t think that sounds too bad actually, except for…
“What if someone comes over? And what about when Sam comes to stay? I’m not kneeling naked in front of my little brother!”
“Okay,” Gabriel says, “that’s fair. If anyone is visiting, you don’t have to take your clothes off. And if someone knocks on the door during our time, you’ll go and wait in our bedroom. I’ll probably send them away, but if they have to come in for any reason, I’ll come and tell you to get dressed. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dean says, and it’s not that he doesn’t realize what he’s just agreed to so much as he doesn’t mind the idea as much as he’d thought he would. This is nothing like the crap that Gordon used to demand from him. Although…
“Are you gonna make me talk about myself in the third person?”
Gabriel shakes his head and then asks Dean if that’s something he would want to do.
“Hell, no. It’s totally dehumanizing. I hate it.”
Gabriel inclines his head and stares levelly at Dean, and Dean thinks for a minute that he’s going to ask, going to make Dean talk about Gordon, but he doesn’t, just takes a sip of his coffee and looks at Dean expectantly, waiting patiently for him to ask more questions. Remembering Gordon makes him remember another couple of important points.
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Gabriel or Gabe.”
Huh. Okay. That’s…refreshingly different to the typical ‘Master’ crap that Dom’s usually come out with.
“Are you gonna punish me?”
Gabriel frowns. “What for?”
“Just in general. You know.”
Gabriel does that staring thing again where he seems to be looking right into Dean’s soul and Dean barely stops himself from squirming under the scrutiny.
“If we both agree that you need it,” he says finally.
Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck. It’s a little scary how well Gabriel seems to understand him. “Okay,” he says.
Gabriel sits back patiently and gives Dean the time and space he needs to think. “If I’m not allowed to Hunt,” Dean says eventually, “then what am I gonna do all day?”
Gabriel grins and sits up straight. “Glad you asked. First, you’re gonna get your GED and then we’re gonna talk about college courses or trade certificates. Also, you’re gonna be working on a project with Sam, but I’ll let Sam tell you about that. Would you like to call him now?”
“I…what? Back up a second. I can’t go to college.”
“Sure you can, once you’ve got your GED.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Gabriel shrugs. “I think there’ll be something you want to do. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?” Gabriel gets out his cell phone, taps the screen a few times and then passes it across to Dean. A cell phone number is highlighted. The name attached to it is ‘Sam Winchester’ and suddenly Dean can’t see the screen through the tears in his eyes. “He’s expecting your call,” Gabriel says softly. “You can go in our bedroom if you like, have some privacy.”
--
Dean presses ‘end’ on Gabriel’s cell phone, sets it down carefully on the floor next to where he’s sitting and then curls himself into a fetal position at the foot of the bed and sobs. It’s embarrassing how much he’s cried today. Dean blames the incubus venom and the first decent Subspace trip he’s had in years for his shitty hormone swings. Losing his freedom has been a punch in the gut too; in a way it’s almost worse that Gabriel’s being so kind. Dean remembers Gordon and reconsiders that. No. He’s lucked out with Gabriel; things could’ve been a lot worse.
And then there’s Sammy. Getting to speak to his little brother for the first time in over ten years…Dean’s bottom lip trembles as he tries hard not to start bawling again. Sammy’s voice is deeper, but he’s unmistakably him, full of outrage and courage, and determined to do what’s right, no matter the personal cost. Dean is so, so proud of the kid; he’s turned into one hell of a man, for all that he’s only twenty-two. Jessica is one hell of a lucky girl and Dean doesn’t give a damn what the nature of their relationship is; if Sammy is happy, Dean is happy.
Dean pulls himself into a sitting position and is startled to find Gabriel standing in the bedroom doorway, staring down at him, his face etched with concern.
“Hi,” Dean says, his ears turning pink. “I swear I’m not one of those needy hysterical Subs,” he says, “it’s just that the last few days have been…”
“A hormonal and emotional roller-coaster?” Gabriel finishes for him.
“Yeah,” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Did you need me for something?”
“Do you like bacon cheeseburgers?”
Dean answers in the affirmative, with possibly a little more enthusiasm than necessary, and Gabriel laughs. “Okay,” he says, “you’re a big fan of burgers. Good to know. Want to help me cook?”
<
| NEXT>
Back to Masterpost
Dean wakes all of a sudden, feeling calm and refreshed. He’s in a DoD cage and he’s just had the best sleep he’s had in…ever. He stretches and rolls onto his back and fuck! His ass is maybe a little tenderer than he’d realized.
Dean gets up, feeling rested and energized. He uses the can in the corner of the cage and wipes his hands and face with the wet wipes provided. The water jug has been filled sometime during the night and Dean helps himself to a plastic cup of water. His ass doesn’t hurt at all if he doesn’t touch it. Dean pokes at it and grins. Gabriel sure knows how to give a spanking.
The door into the cells slides open just as Dean is considering whether or not he should put his jeans on. It’s Gabriel and he’s carrying a tray.
Dean can’t quite help the smile that lights up his face. “Aw baby,” he says, “you brought me breakfast.”
Gabriel’s answering grin is maybe a touch relieved. “I did,” he says. He approaches the cage and Dean surprises them both by dropping to his knees, legs spread and palms resting on his thighs. His embarrassment, when he realizes what he’s just done, is crushing and it’s only years of training that keep him from folding in on himself. The throb of pain from where his heels are digging into his ass helps ground him too.
“Dean?”
He keeps his eyes lowered.
“Look at me, Dean.”
Dean finds himself unable to resist a direct order from the Dom, even though a subtle sniff tells him that Gabriel isn’t releasing any pheromones. He thinks that maybe, deep down, he doesn’t want to resist. The look on Gabriel’s face is hard to decipher, but Dean thinks he sees awe and pride and something that he shies away from naming.
“Thank you,” Gabriel says. And then, “I’m supposed to cuff you before I come into the cage.”
Dean starts to move, but Gabriel stops him. “I trust you, Dean. Cross your wrists behind your back.”
Dean complies and Gabriel unlocks the cage. Once again he calls down a chair with his remote control and sits down at Dean’s side.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Gabriel asks.
“Great, actually. I slept really well. My ass hurts a little, but it’s a good kind of pain.”
Gabriel’s eyes are focused on him, watching him intently, and Dean has the sudden thought that the Dom sees far too much, sees right through him to the parts of himself he tries to hide.
Gabriel has brought warm, butter croissants and he pulls them to pieces and feeds them to Dean who is maybe, possibly, a bit of a tease, making sure to close his lips around Gabriel’s fingers and suck the butter off them seductively. Gabriel doesn’t squirm; he’s far too controlled for that, but Dean can see the heat in his eyes. Dean figures that if this were your typical morning after an intense scene, the next thing his lips wrapped around would be the Dom’s cock. He’s surprised when he realizes how disappointed he is that that won’t be happening.
Dean finishes eating and Gabriel wipes his hands before encouraging Dean to lean against his legs. He gently massages
Dean’s shoulders and tells Dean he’s pleased at how loose and relaxed his muscles are.
“Is there anything you need?” he asks.
“A cup of coffee would be nice. Black. Two sugars.”
Gabriel promises to see what he can do. “So,” he says, “You’ll be going before the Judge this afternoon.
Dean closes his eyes. “How quickly do you carry out the sentence around here?”
Gabriel tells him that it’s always within twenty-four hours, unless there’s an appeal.
Dean nods. “What am I likely to get?”
Gabriel purses his lips. “You’re facing serious charges, Dean. The unlicensed Hunting alone carries a penalty of one hundred licks. So does failure to live under the Guardianship of a Dom. The rest of the charges? You’re looking at another one hundred and fifty licks, combined,” Dean can feel the color draining from his face. “The sentence would be broken up into a number of sessions,” Gabriel says, “you wouldn’t get all three hundred and fifty at once,” he clears his throat, “but I’m actually hoping that we’ll be able to get you a suspended sentence.”
“Really? How?”
“You won’t like it.”
Dean snorts. “I bet I’d like getting my ass strapped three hundred and fifty times even less.”
Gabriel nods. “You haven’t been under the Guardianship of a Dom for the past eight years. The law says that you need one; that you’re not competent to fend for yourself without one. We’re going to argue that if you haven’t had a Dom to manage and correct your behavior, then you can’t be held legally liable for it. We’ll get you a Guardian Dom and ask the Judge to suspend the sentence. So long as you stay with the Guardian Dom and keep out of trouble for a set amount of time, the sentence doesn’t get carried out.”
Dean is tense against Gabriel’s leg and he imagines that his scowl is probably impressive. “How long?” he demands.
Gabriel shrugs. “That’s up to the Judge. Could be six months. Could be five years.”
“You’re right,” Dean says, “I don’t like it. The Judge is gonna stick me with some arrogant, asshole Dom who’s gonna beat me and rape me, and there won’t be anything I can do about it and…” Dean takes a deep breath and manages to reel himself in. “I think I’d rather take the licks.”
“I would never advocate something that wasn’t in your best interests, Dean.”
Dean snorts. He’s heard that before. Gordon, in particular, was really fond of telling him it was for his own good while punishing him in horrible, painful, humiliating ways.
Gabriel’s hand cups Dean’s chin and lifts his head, forcing him to meet the Dom’s eyes. “I would never allow you to be placed with someone who would beat you or rape you,” his expression is ferocious. “I hope you can trust me on that.”
Dean closes his eyes. He does trust Gabriel; but Gabriel won’t be the one basically owning his ass. “You got someone in mind?” he asks, meeting the Dom’s eyes again.
Gabriel’s eyes slide away. “Yeah,” he says, “but I don’t want to say too much in case it doesn’t pan out. Just…trust me. Please, Dean?”
He lets go of Dean’s chin and Dean nods his head. What choice does he have?
Gabriel asks him if he owns a suit. Dean has a couple that he uses when he’s impersonating FBI agents so he nods in the affirmative and Gabriel offers to go to Dean’s motel room and pick up a respectable outfit for him to wear before the Judge.
“Thanks,” all Dean’s unlicensed weapons are in his car, the worst the DoD will be able to find in his motel room is his stash of Zero and some more fake IDs.
Gabriel hugs Dean before he leaves and runs a soothing hand up and down his back.
After he’s gone that funny-looking, skinny Sub comes in and brings Dean a coffee.
“Thanks, uh…?”
“Garth. And you’re welcome.”
“Hey, Garth?” Dean says as the Sub turns to leave. “What’s Gabriel like to work with?”
Garth beams. “Gabriel’s awesome. All the Subs here like him.”
“What about the Doms?”
Garth pulls a face. “Depends. The ones who are big on old-fashioned protocols and so on don’t approve of him, but I don’t think he really cares. People say he’s stuck in the Sub Division because he’s a disgrace to his family name, I mean, he’s only a distant cousin to the main family, Dom Charles Archangel’s nephew’s nephew’s cousin or something, but Archangels are supposed to set standards, you know. But you know what?” Garth lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he likes working with Subs who are in trouble.”
“Thanks,” Dean says and sips at his coffee as Garth makes his way out of the Cells.
Now he gets it. Gabriel’s got a hero complex; saving the poor abused Subs in his care is just what he does. Dean should’ve known better than to let himself get attached; Gabriel is nice and caring and supportive to everyone; all the Subs like him. Of course. How stupid of Dean to think that maybe he was somehow personally important to the Dom.
--
Gabriel doesn’t join him for lunch and Dean misses him. And then gets angry at himself for missing him. He’s nice to everyone; you’re nothing special, Winchester. It becomes his mantra.
Gabriel turns up about an hour and a half after lunch, with a suit bag and one of Dean’s duffel bags. He smiles (and Dean’s pulse does not race) and apologizes for missing lunch. He has Dean strip down to his shorts and then cuffs him and leads him to the showers. The first thing he does is sit Dean down on a slatted-wooden bench seat, which causes Dean’s ass to spark with pleasure/pain.
“Knees apart,” the Dom says, and then wheels a stool on castors in between Dean’s spread legs. He sits himself down and hands Dean a bowl of warm water. “Hold that.”
Gabriel lathers Dean’s face and throat with shaving foam and then carefully draws a razor over the area, rinsing the blade in the bowl of water every now and then, until Dean is hairless and smooth. No-one else has ever shaved Dean before and he finds it surprisingly soothing. It also turns him on, just a little, but then again, he’s a guy with a healthy libido who hasn’t had a lot of action lately; at this point it doesn’t take much to turn him on.
Gabriel clears away the shaving gear and takes Dean’s handcuffs off.
“Shower,” he says, handing Dean a miniature bottle of shampoo and tiny bar of soap.
Dean peels off his shorts and heads for one of two shower stalls. There are no privacy screens.
“Hmm,” he hears Gabriel say from behind him, “no bruising or swelling, barely pink. Nice job, Archangel!”
Dean blushes slightly and then turns the shower on before turning to face Gabriel, a shit-eating grin pasted onto his face. “So,” he drawls, “do I have to be careful about dropping the soap?”
Gabriel folds his arms, raises one eyebrow and looks decidedly unimpressed, and okay, that was probably uncalled for. Gabriel’s been nothing but kind and professional and Dean trusts him. He’s just feeling horny. And unsure of himself.
Usually, Dean knows exactly what people want from him and if he wants it too, he gives it to them. Gordon has been the only person (not the only person, his subconscious reminds him; Dean tells it to shut up) to successfully force Dean into giving things he didn’t want to give and Dean has promised himself that will never happen again. He allows himself a moment of introspection as he soaps himself and realizes that he’s trying to goad Gabriel into making some kind of move; into hitting on him or putting him in his place, making it clear he wants nothing that Dean has to offer. He slides a sideways glance at the DoD officer, standing a respectable distance away, arms still folded, and sighs. Gabriel isn’t going to play that game; he’s too professional to resort to anger and he would never make a move on a client.
Dean towels off and dresses in his suit; charcoal-grey, with a pressed-white shirt (which was definitely wrinkled the last time Dean saw it) and a tie patterned in different shades of green. His black shoes have been newly-polished to a high-gloss sheen and when he straightens from tying his laces he opens his arms wide and spins around slowly.
“Well? What d’ya think?” he asks Gabriel.
Gabriel tilts his head to one side and then smiles, a slow, genuine smile. “You scrub up good, Winchester.”
--
The Courthouse is small and unimpressive. The Judge is sitting on an ordinary desk chair behind an ordinary office table. She isn’t in robes; she’s in a black pants suit, her kicked-off high-heels lying askew beneath the table. She has a manila folder on the table in front of her and she opens it and glances at the top sheet.
There’s a long table in front of the Judge, big enough for maybe six people to sit at. Gabriel sits on the chair at the end and motions for Dean to kneel beside him. Dean’s hands are cuffed behind him, which makes kneeling gracefully a chore. He manages it anyway, but doesn’t try to keep the scowl of annoyance from his face. The floor is surprisingly soft and Gabriel puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. Dean can’t manage to stop himself from leaning in to the reassuring touch. The Judge notices and smiles benignly at him, which makes Dean’s expression sour. She laughs and looks up at Gabriel. “You’ve managed to land yourself a live one, I see?”
Gabriel murmurs a polite agreement.
The charges against Dean are read out and the Judge asks Gabriel a whole lot of questions about Dean and his background. Gabriel surprises him by being able to answer them very accurately, despite never having discussed Dean’s life and motivations with him ever. Dean scowls at the carpet. It seems like Gabriel and the Judge are going to sort this out between them, without any input from Dean.
“Excuse me,” Dean says eventually.
The Judge frowns. “Instruct your client to remain silent,” she says to Gabriel.
Gabriel looks at him and raises an eyebrow.
“What if I want to add something?” Dean whispers.
“Turn to look at me and I’ll excuse myself to Judge Moseley and we’ll have a quick discussion. Do you want to add something?”
“No. Not yet. I just wanted to know if I was allowed to have a say.”
Gabriel apologizes to the Judge and they resume their conversation about the serious impact living without a Dom has caused to Dean’s health and well-being, both physical and emotional. It’s all blah, blah, blah and Dean is completely zoned out until Gabriel starts talking about his brainwave patterns.
“Sub Winchester has been self-medicating with Zero,” Gabriel says, “but what he hasn’t realized - what a lot of people fail to realize, despite the public health campaigns-is that Zero might help with the neurochemical imbalances, but it does nothing at all for the brain wave issues. If Sub Winchester keeps living like he’s been living, he’ll be permanently comatose by fifty.”
And okay, Dean isn’t actually expecting to live that long; he’s a solo Hunter after all, but to hear it put so starkly makes his stomach churn.
The Judge rifles through the papers in the manila folder, head down and lips pursed.
“Alright,” she says, “I have a Temporary Guardianship Order here nominating yourself,” she nods at Gabriel, “as Guardian, with an accompanying letter of approval from Dom Samuel Winchester. I’m going to approve that Order. Sub Winchester is sentenced to three hundred and fifty Licks, to be wholly suspended for twelve months. During that twelve months Sub Winchester must remain under your Guardianship and he must not engage in any prohibited activity. After twelve months we’ll reassess.”
She stamps a bunch of papers and hands one of them across to Gabriel. “He’s free to go.”
Gabriel shakes her hand and stands up, but Dean is still stuck on the fact that Gabriel volunteered to be his Guardian and Sam somehow found out about it and gave his approval. Why didn’t Dad give his approval? Dean swallows around the sudden lump of fear in his throat. Is it possible…could Dad be…
“Let’s go, Dean,” Gabriel says.
Dean goes to stand and then freezes in horror when he realizes that Gabriel has clipped a leash to his collar.
Gabriel leans in close. “It’s mandatory when you’re leaving court,” he says, “Like the way they make you sit in a wheelchair when you leave hospital. I promise I’ll take it off as soon as we’re in the car.”
Gabriel keeps his promise, unclipping the leash and throwing it in the glove box with a shudder as soon as Dean closes his door. “I hate those,” he says.
Dean huffs. “You hate them,” he mutters.
Gabriel stares at him, his brown eyes wide and sincere. “I know you must have questions,” he says. “But how about we get home first and then we’ll talk?”
Dean fakes a smile. “You’re the Dom,” he says.
--
Gabriel’s house surprises Dean. It is a tan-colored ranch-style family home with a double garage and a carefully manicured front lawn. The only thing missing is a white picket fence. He’s even more surprised when Gabriel clicks the remote to open the garage and he sees Baby parked inside.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Gabriel says, “I took the liberty of retrieving her from outside Cunningham’s. I’ve taken care of the parking ticket too.”
“How did you find her?” Dean asks.
Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “A nice car like that? Left parked outside one of the town’s better bars? The local PD found it for me in ten minutes.”
“But how did you know it was mine?”
“There’s not a lot I don’t know about you at this point, Dean. I also took the liberty of bringing all your stuff here from your motel room and settling up the account.”
“Right,” Dean nods curtly. “Because you own me now, so you own all my stuff too.”
“I have temporary Guardianship of your stuff,” Gabriel says lightly, “just like I have temporary Guardianship of you. C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
Gabriel’s house is nice inside too; spacious entry hall, farmhouse style kitchen; separate living and family rooms, a formal dining room, a study, a bathroom and a laundry. Dean gets the guided tour. Downstairs first and then upstairs, where there are three bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom has an ensuite and all Dean’s stuff is on the floor next to the master bed.
Dean snorts and turns to Gabriel with wounded eyes. “So much for that pretty speech you gave me. You giving me a choice about this?”
“Let’s discuss it over coffee,” Gabriel replies, turning away and heading downstairs without waiting for Dean to respond.
Dean sinks to his knees beside one of his duffel bags and holds his face in his hands. He could leave. He could just…grab his stuff, get in his car and go. It seems like a sensible plan. Gabriel probably wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Dean searches through his duffel bags. All of his stuff seems to be accounted for, except for the knife that had been underneath his pillow at the motel. Dean’s lips curl. Big surprise his new Dom has confiscated that.
Dean gathers his bags and psyches himself up for a confrontation with Gabriel. He glances around the room that he’s never going to sleep in and his eyes light on the bed; on the pillow on the left side which looks rumpled. On a whim he steps across to it and lifts up the pillow. His knife is underneath it. Dean stares blankly at his large bowie knife until it begins to blur and then he wipes at his eyes and drops his duffel bags back onto the floor next to the bed. He sits on the bed and concentrates on breathing, getting himself back under control. When the trembling has subsided he goes into the ensuite and splashes cold water on his face, before heading downstairs.
Gabriel is in the kitchen, changing the filter on his coffee maker.
“Coffee?”
Dean nods. “Black, two sugars.”
“I remember. Do you like pie? I’ve got a banana and caramel pie in the fridge.”
“Sounds awesome.”
Gabriel tells him to cut them both a slice and they move around the kitchen together with the ease of an old couple who’ve been moving in tandem all their lives.
“So,” says Gabriel, once they’re seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, “You’re bound to have questions. Shoot.”
Dean has questions and then some. In fact he isn’t quite sure where to start. He takes a sip of his coffee; rich and bitter and then has a mouthful of pie which makes him groan out loud. “Oh, this is good,” he says.
“I take my desserts very seriously,” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows.
“Why are you doing this?” Dean blurts
“Why did I take on your Guardianship?”
Dean nods.
“I like you,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “And it seemed to me that we would probably get along well and enjoy each other’s company. Also, the idea of someone as bright and competent as you ending up in State makes me feel physically ill. Seemed like a win/win.”
Dean nods and runs a hand over his jaw. “Is my Dad dead?” he asks.
Gabriel explains the process that led him to Sam and Dean can feel his heart expanding with pride and joy as Gabriel relays his conversation with Mister Winchester.
“Yeah, that’s my Sammy,” he says fondly. “I can’t believe he ditched Hunting to go to Stanford. I bet Dad was pissed.”
“Cut him off as I understand it,” Gabriel says. “But your brother’s a smart kid. He got himself a full ride.”
Dean beams with pride.
“He wants to come and visit,” Gabriel says. “He’s busy with law school interviews right now, and you and I need some time to get settled anyway, but I told him he could come up for Thanksgiving, if you were agreeable. Unfortunately they’d already agreed to go to Jess’s family for Thanksgiving, and then they have Autumn quarter exams. Long story short, as long as it’s okay with you, they’re going to come up for Christmas. ”
“Hell, yes,” says Dean.
He eats some more pie and Gabriel sips at his coffee-some God-awful looking concoction with a ton of whipped cream on the top. There’s a long moment of silence, which Dean is surprised to find isn’t really awkward.
“More questions?” Gabriel says finally.
Dean pushes his empty plate away and picks up his coffee. “Maybe you could just tell me how things are gonna work and what you expect from me?”
“Okay,” Gabriel purses his lips and tilts his head thoughtfully. “I expect you to obey the law; no Hunting, no impersonating Doms, no going on the run, no taking Zero,” he pauses and looks hard at Dean.
Dean nods, in understanding, not necessarily agreement.
“As far as we’re concerned,” Dean’s breath hitches; this part will determine how likely he is to go on the run. “I’m a pretty low protocol kind of guy; most of the time we’re just gonna be two guys, sharing a house. But there are some things I’m going to put my foot down about.”
Here we go, Dean thinks cynically.
“Firstly, you and I are going to share a bed. That doesn’t mean we’re going to be sexually intimate. You need a lot of body contact to help repair the damage your solitary lifestyle over the last eight years has caused to your health.”
Okay, Dean thinks, that doesn’t sound too bad.
“Of course you won’t be having sex with anyone else while you’re under my Guardianship, and you won’t be masturbating either. If you want sex, it’s going to be with me. But I won’t force the issue.”
Dean laughs. “Oh that’s rich. I’m a twenty-six-year-old guy with a healthy libido. We both know I’m not gonna be able to go a whole year without sex.”
Gabriel smiles ruefully. “Dean I like you a lot and I’m very attracted to you. I want you to submit to me sexually, but I don’t want a sex slave. I don’t want someone who genuinely doesn’t have a choice, someone who I can rape at will and they have no recourse. I want a voluntary exchange of power. If you don’t want that, that’s fine, we’ll keep sex out of the equation.”
Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Can I think about it?”
“I insist you think about it.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Like I said, I’m pretty low protocol, but every evening we’ll have a period of somewhat higher protocol,” Dean’s face hardens. “A little before nine thirty every evening,” Gabriel continues, oblivious to Dean’s darkening mood, or perhaps just not caring, “you will go to our bedroom and get undressed. Your clothes will either go away or in the washing hamper, as appropriate. You will then come back downstairs, naked, and kneel at my feet. You are to be in place no later than nine thirty. This will be our time; no work, no phone calls, no computers, no television, just you and me, enjoying each other’s company.”
Dean doesn’t think that sounds too bad actually, except for…
“What if someone comes over? And what about when Sam comes to stay? I’m not kneeling naked in front of my little brother!”
“Okay,” Gabriel says, “that’s fair. If anyone is visiting, you don’t have to take your clothes off. And if someone knocks on the door during our time, you’ll go and wait in our bedroom. I’ll probably send them away, but if they have to come in for any reason, I’ll come and tell you to get dressed. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dean says, and it’s not that he doesn’t realize what he’s just agreed to so much as he doesn’t mind the idea as much as he’d thought he would. This is nothing like the crap that Gordon used to demand from him. Although…
“Are you gonna make me talk about myself in the third person?”
Gabriel shakes his head and then asks Dean if that’s something he would want to do.
“Hell, no. It’s totally dehumanizing. I hate it.”
Gabriel inclines his head and stares levelly at Dean, and Dean thinks for a minute that he’s going to ask, going to make Dean talk about Gordon, but he doesn’t, just takes a sip of his coffee and looks at Dean expectantly, waiting patiently for him to ask more questions. Remembering Gordon makes him remember another couple of important points.
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Gabriel or Gabe.”
Huh. Okay. That’s…refreshingly different to the typical ‘Master’ crap that Dom’s usually come out with.
“Are you gonna punish me?”
Gabriel frowns. “What for?”
“Just in general. You know.”
Gabriel does that staring thing again where he seems to be looking right into Dean’s soul and Dean barely stops himself from squirming under the scrutiny.
“If we both agree that you need it,” he says finally.
Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck. It’s a little scary how well Gabriel seems to understand him. “Okay,” he says.
Gabriel sits back patiently and gives Dean the time and space he needs to think. “If I’m not allowed to Hunt,” Dean says eventually, “then what am I gonna do all day?”
Gabriel grins and sits up straight. “Glad you asked. First, you’re gonna get your GED and then we’re gonna talk about college courses or trade certificates. Also, you’re gonna be working on a project with Sam, but I’ll let Sam tell you about that. Would you like to call him now?”
“I…what? Back up a second. I can’t go to college.”
“Sure you can, once you’ve got your GED.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Gabriel shrugs. “I think there’ll be something you want to do. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?” Gabriel gets out his cell phone, taps the screen a few times and then passes it across to Dean. A cell phone number is highlighted. The name attached to it is ‘Sam Winchester’ and suddenly Dean can’t see the screen through the tears in his eyes. “He’s expecting your call,” Gabriel says softly. “You can go in our bedroom if you like, have some privacy.”
--
Dean presses ‘end’ on Gabriel’s cell phone, sets it down carefully on the floor next to where he’s sitting and then curls himself into a fetal position at the foot of the bed and sobs. It’s embarrassing how much he’s cried today. Dean blames the incubus venom and the first decent Subspace trip he’s had in years for his shitty hormone swings. Losing his freedom has been a punch in the gut too; in a way it’s almost worse that Gabriel’s being so kind. Dean remembers Gordon and reconsiders that. No. He’s lucked out with Gabriel; things could’ve been a lot worse.
And then there’s Sammy. Getting to speak to his little brother for the first time in over ten years…Dean’s bottom lip trembles as he tries hard not to start bawling again. Sammy’s voice is deeper, but he’s unmistakably him, full of outrage and courage, and determined to do what’s right, no matter the personal cost. Dean is so, so proud of the kid; he’s turned into one hell of a man, for all that he’s only twenty-two. Jessica is one hell of a lucky girl and Dean doesn’t give a damn what the nature of their relationship is; if Sammy is happy, Dean is happy.
Dean pulls himself into a sitting position and is startled to find Gabriel standing in the bedroom doorway, staring down at him, his face etched with concern.
“Hi,” Dean says, his ears turning pink. “I swear I’m not one of those needy hysterical Subs,” he says, “it’s just that the last few days have been…”
“A hormonal and emotional roller-coaster?” Gabriel finishes for him.
“Yeah,” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Did you need me for something?”
“Do you like bacon cheeseburgers?”
Dean answers in the affirmative, with possibly a little more enthusiasm than necessary, and Gabriel laughs. “Okay,” he says, “you’re a big fan of burgers. Good to know. Want to help me cook?”
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