#also gabe dropped his food in the third one

[magiturge]

more silly minis from aggie

[hobeymakar]

Something Better | N. MacKinnon

Words: 2,608

A/N: Since I’m sad about the Avs losing Game 7, I figured the only way to not fall into a depressive state is to write something cute to turn the failed breaking of the 2nd round curse (it’s been almost 20 years) to something positive :) In this, COVID-19 is still going on and yes, the playoffs did go on as it did this year

Warnings: swearing and alcohol use

-

You wake up and feel a wave of nausea run through you. You run straight to the bathroom and manage to make it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach out. After the nausea goes down, you brush your teeth and wash your face before heading to the kitchen to take your prenatals and make some breakfast. Yesterday, officially started your 10th week of pregnancy and you can’t believe how quickly your pregnancy is flying by. It seems like just yesterday you found out you were pregnant alone, while Nate was playing his exhibition game with the Avs in Edmonton.

You didn’t want Nate to find out about your unexpected pregnancy while in the bubble, so you tried to keep it as secretive as possible. The only people beside your family that knew were Mel and Gabe Landeskog and Erik Johnson, because EJ apparently finds out everything like he’s some FBI detective or whatever. Luckily, EJ and the Landeskogs can keep their mouths shut and vowed to not tell Nate. You wanted to tell him in person, not over FaceTime.

You finish your breakfast and clean up the kitchen, before heading back to the room to get dressed for the airport. You shower and wash your hair before changing into one of Nate’s old Halifax Mooseheads shirts, leggings, and Adidas sneakers. You need to buy some maternity clothing soon since you’re almost done with your first trimester and your bump is starting to actually show. You blowdry your hair and put on minimal makeup before grabbing your things and leaving the house. You get into the car and drive off towards the airport. 

After a while, you arrive at the airport and make your way towards the arrivals terminal and greet all the Avs WAGs. The ones who are moms can tell right away that you’re pregnant but vow not to say anything to anyone, until you’re ready. After what feels like forever, but it’s only half an hour, you see the players starting to come out. The second you see Nate you run straight into his arms, throwing caution to the wind. It’s the longest you’ve been without your husband since you two started dating in 2014.

“Y/N!” he smiles, holding you in his arms tightly.

“I missed you so much, baby!” you cry out, a couple tears of joy starting to slip from your eyes.

“I missed you even more, baby!” he replies, kissing your forehead.

You stay in each other’s arms for a few more moments before he gently places you back on the ground again. He takes your hand in his and you guys leave the terminal together and head back to the car. You both get into the car and finally take off your masks.

“How was the flight?” you ask, as you start the car.

“Long and depressing, but I’m glad I get to come home to you again,” he smiles, kissing your hand.

You put the car into drive and leave the airport, while he puts on WHATS POPPIN (Remix) by Jack Harlow, Tory Lanez, DaBaby, and Lil Wayne. You know Nate is back when only rap music is being played in the car again. After a while, you make it back to the house and Nate goes straight to the room to unpack, while you take the time to go to your office and call Mel.

Mel answers on the third ring and you can hear Linnea crying in the background.

“Hey Mel is this a bad time?” you ask, not wanting to take her away from her motherly duties.

“No, not at all. Linnea’s just cranky because Gabe accidentally dropped his gear and woke her up from her nap,” she explains.

“God, he better get her back to sleep then,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Oh he is! He’s in the nursery right now, trying to get her to go back to sleep,” she explains.

“Good! Serves him right for ruining her nap schedule,” you tease. “Anyway, are we still on for Nate’s belated birthday party surprise?”

“Yes, we are! I’ve been in contact with the other girls and the guys and we should all be there for 6. So, you should tell him you’re taking him out for dinner and then when you come back from dinner, everything will be set up! He won’t suspect anything,” she explains.

“Alright, awesome. Thanks Mel,” you smile, glad your surprise party for Nate is gonna go off as planned.

What you don't know is that Nate is outside your door and heard you mention the birthday party surprise. He leaves the hallway quickly so that you don't know that he was listening to you talk with Mel. You get off the phone with Mel and exit the room, glad to see that Nate is nowhere near your office. You find him in the living room, getting his laptop set up.

"Hey babe, are you hungry?" you ask.

"No, I ate on the flight. I'm gonna zoom with my parents and sister if you wanna come join," he offers.

"Of course!" you smile.

You love talking with the MacKinnon family. They all love you and are so glad that you turned Nate into a man. Nate starts the zoom call and you're instantly greeted with the faces of Graham, Kathy, and Sarah. 

"Hi, Y/N! How are you?" Kathy greets, a giant smile on her face.

"I'm great, Mrs. MacKinnon, now that your son is back home. How are you?" you ask.

"Y/N darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kathy? We're family now, sweetheart. I'm doing well. I'm so happy to see you again," she replies.

"It must really suck to have my brother back home, eh?" Sarah teases.

"I won't get peace and quiet anymore, that's for sure," you tease back, causing Nate to groan beside you.

"I don't appreciate this spousal abuse!" he whines.

"This is why you're my favorite sister-in-law, Y/N!" Sarah giggles, having way too much.

"She's your only sister-in-law, Sarah!" Graham informs her.

"I know that, Dad! She's still my favorite!" Sarah shushes him.

Yeah, you definitely love the MacKinnons. You all catch up on what's going on with the MacKinnons informing you and Nate on what's going on back in Cole Harbour. You also inform them what's going on in Denver without of course telling them about your pregnancy. Although with the looks Kathy is giving you, she must already suspect it. Moms tend to have a pregnancy radar like that. After a while, the MacKinnons have to go and the Zoom call ends.

You and Nate take advantage of a lil nap time, since the pregnancy makes you take naps more frequently.

"Babe, get ready. I'm taking you out to dinner," you inform him.

"Why can't we just have dinner here?" he pleads.

"Because we haven't had a date night since the pandemic happened and I want to go out," you explain.

"Whatever m'lady wants, m'lady gets," he teases in a stupid accent.

"You're insufferable," you groan, shaking your head in disbelief.

You two get ready to go to dinner and you had already set up a reservation at a nice steakhouse for 6pm. You arrive at the steakhouse downtown at 5:40pm and valet park it. You make your way inside and wait for your table to be ready, before being escorted by the hostess to your table. You both sit down at the table and look at the menus.

"Hi my name is Alex and I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you both started with some drinks?" the waiter asks.

"Can we get a bottle of your best red sauvignon, please?" Nate asks.

"And I'll just have this water," you add.

"No problem," Alex smiles.

He pours you a glass of water from the water pitcher as Nate gives you a look of confusion. Alex then leaves to get the bottle of wine.

"You're not gonna have any wine?" he asks.

"No, not tonight, babe. Not really in the mood for it," you lie.

"Okay," he replies, not totally buying the lie.

Alex comes back with the bottle of wine and you both place your orders. You check your phone and see that Mel texted you saying that everyone is at the house setting up for the surprise party. You two pass the time talking and Nate brings up heading back to the offseason house in Cole Harbour and you tell him you're unsure if you wanna go back since it's basically the end of summer anyway and the offseason is so short this year.

"So you wanna stay in Denver then?" he asks.

"I just don't know if it'll be worth it to only be there a month or two," you reply, when in reality you wanna stay here for your entire pregnancy.

Your food eventually arrives and the both of you dig in. You quickly realize how much you miss date nights with Nate and how much you just missed being with Nate in general. Dealing with the majority of your first trimester alone was definitely challenging and something you thought you would never have to deal with. 

After a while, you finish eating and the waiters bring a piece of cake for Nate and start singing happy birthday, while you record it on your phone.

"Happy belated birthday, baby!" you cheer, after the waiters finish singing.

Nate blows out the candle and everyone claps. The waiters all walk away and Nate throws you a look.

"Really?" he asks in annoyance, shaking his head.

"Stop being a baby! You really thought I wasn't gonna make up for missing your birthday?" you ask.

He starts eating his cake, anyway and you eat half of it. You finish eating the cake and you pay the check, much to Nate's dismay.

"Babe, I can pay for things too. I run my own million dollar business," you glare at him.

"Sorry," he replies, raising his hands up in defense.

You leave the restaurant and check your phone, seeing that Mel texted you that the house is all set up and everyone is there.

You decide to drive, much to Nate's dismay, but you sternly remind him that he had a whole bottle of wine. You arrive at the house and park in the driveway. You walk up to the front door and go in first, seeing the house completely dark. Nate follows in and turns on the lights.

Everyone shouts surprise and Nate acts like he didn't know about it ahead of time. Gabe cues the music and everyone goes up to him and wishes him a happy birthday.

"Thank you baby," he smiles, kissing you.

"You're welcome," you smile back.

All the kids are running around and the girls and guys are chatting about offseason plans. After a while, Mel brings out a cake and everyone starts singing happy birthday. After singing, they take pictures of Nate with the cake, before pictures of different groups with Nate and the cake. After all the pictures are taken, Mel cuts the cake and serves a piece to everyone, even some of the kids. After the entire cake is cut and everyone has finished eating their pieces, you go to your office and take out a bag with Nate’s gifts in it, nervous to see what his reaction will be. You bring it out of the office and bring out to the open area where everybody is. Mel notices this and cues for everyone to be quiet and shuts the music down.

“What’s going on?” Nate asks in confusion, not understanding what’s going on.

“I got some special birthday gifts for you, but you need to close your eyes when you pull them out!” you smile, handing him the gift bag.

Nate shoots you a look of hesitation before opening the bag and taking out the paper. He pulls out the first item and hands it to you, before taking out a 2nd and 3rd item and handing them both to you. You arrange them nicely, so that he can see them clearly when he opens his eyes.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” you inform him, biting your lip nervously.

He opens his eyes and is immediately hit with a baby Avs jersey with his number on it that says Daddy in the back, as well as little Avs booties and your first ultrasound photo. His brows furrow in confusion at first before he puts two and two together and his mouth drops at the sudden realization that you’re pregnant.

“You’re pregnant? I’m gonna be a dad?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes, babe! I’m 10 weeks pregnant and I’m due in early April!” you smile, placing a hand down on your little bump.

“I love you so much!” he cries out, before kissing you and lifting you into his arms.

Everyone cheers and yells out their congratulations, with the WAGs already talking about planning the gender reveal party and the baby shower. Nate doesn’t keep his hands off your bump for the rest of the night and doesn’t shut up about how he can’t wait to meet the baby. The team, because they’re all competitive gambling bastards, place a wager on whether or not it’s a boy or girl, and secretly you want a mini Nate running around, even though you know he would be an amazing girl dad.

After a while, it gets late and everyone cleans up before heading home. Once everyone is gone, you guys shower and get ready for bed.

“When’s the next appointment, babe?” he asks you, as you crawl into bed to cuddle him.

“In two weeks for the first trimester screen. You’re gonna be able to hear our baby’s heartbeat for the first time,” you inform him.

“I can’t believe you were going through this all alone,” he sighs, feeling guilty that he was playing in the Edmonton bubble.

“I had Mel here with me and she was pretty awesome helping me out after every freakout and breakdown I had since finding out I’m pregnant,” you assure him.

“How long have you known?” he asks, the “without telling me” implied.

“I found out 5 days after you left. I had missed my period and was feeling like shit, so I bought a few tests and they all came out positive. So I freaked out and figured I’d wait til I saw you again in person to tell you,” you explain.

“I hate that I wasn’t here for you these last 6 weeks, but I’ll be by your side for the rest of this pregnancy, baby,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “When do we get to find out the gender?”

“In 10 weeks during the mid-pregnancy ultrasound. It’s a 3D ultrasound that will show us every detail of the baby,” you explain to him, in between yawns.

He crawls down under the sheets and brings his face up to your little bump.

“Hey little one, I know you don’t know me yet, but I’m your daddy! I can’t wait to meet you little guy or girl! Your mommy and I make me so happy. I know I haven’t been here because I was busy trying to win the Stanley Cup, but I’m glad I didn’t. You’re already a million times better than winning the Cup,” he explains, leaving kisses on your bump.

You quickly wipe the tears from your eyes so he doesn’t see how emotional that made you. He’s right however. Finally starting a family is way better than winning the Stanley Cup. 

[shimmershae]

Just watched the episode and I’m going to have a lot of thoughts for you, most of them probably bordering on incoherence (LOL) so this is your last chance to nope on out of this post because I’m going to go ahead and put everything else behind a cut to save the eyes that do not want to see any  spoilers at all.  Unlike mine, that very much wanted to see but in a lot of cases?  Could not see shit, but I digress.

Shae’s stream of consciousness coming at you in 3-2-1.  

First of all, can I saw how good it is to have my show back again?  Like, no.  I don’t quite have Season 5 levels of excitement about the new/last season, but it is definitely nice to have all these characters back.  

So all these thoughts of mine.  Okay.  Bear with me because there be a whole lot of them, lol.  

My immediate impression as the episode opened was WHOA.  Such a cool shot of Daryl with one light wing, one dark wing (representing the two sides to Daryl maybe--the man of honor versus the man he was raised to be, hmm?) looking out over some dark vista of something.  Seriously.  It’s dark.  My room is also dark at the moment and still I was squinting to see.  To make out what I’m “looking” at.  I really, really hope the rest of this season isn’t this hard to make out.  

Is that a tank?  Kinda sorta a callback to Rick’s first episode?  If so, cool.  If not, well.  Us fans have always put way more thought into things.  For real.  Change my mind.  

Holy intense eye contact, Batman!  Daryl Dixon has literally never looked at anyone--not BethusConLeah--in quite the same smoldering way as he looks at Carol.  It’s next level.  I don’t know why people be fooling themselves into thinking different.  

Let’s see.  I can make out--besides Daryl, Maggie, and that face mask dude I already forgot the name of--Kelly, Magna, Jerry (who’s that with him?), and Carol.  Sorry.  My world, like Daryl’s, inevitably narrows to Carol.  She’s loking fierce and fine AF per usual.  

Was that Rosita I noticed rewinding to relive Daryl eye-fucking Carol?  

I’m guessing this is the army base they talked about in 10C.  

That Walker perking up like “I smell food--pancakes and bacon and oohhhh” has me giggling inappropriately right off the bat.  WTF.  

Look at all my fabulous ladies tiptoeing through that Walker minefield.  And Carol spotting that gun that might be useful right away.  Listen, if you don’t think her mind ain’t always ten steps ahead of everybody else’s, you’d be wrong.  

So.  Are these Walkers just so old and feeble not even the call of fresh meat attracts them?  Because just tiptoeing through their midst without the knockoff Lady Gaga meatsuits or skin masks has never really worked before that I can remember.  

I just want to see most of this season.  Is that really too much to ask?  Don’t X-Files and Game of Thrones us, Angela.  Please and thank you very fucking much.  

Okay.  Is the one drop of blood thing making anybody else have 28 Days Later vibes?  Kinda?  Sorta?  No?  Just me?  Okay then.  Carry on.  

Wait a minute, though.  How they be explaining how Daryl keeeps acquiring all these new tats all the time?  Hmm?  It’s like they just quit giving a shit about continuity in these latter seasons.  

I mean.  Do Walkers sleep now?  LMAO.  What is this?  I guess they’re constantly evolving?  

There’s my baby Lydia.  Love my smol bean.  

Alright though.  I love to see the ladies of TWD kick some ass.  It’s very gratifying.  Gimps would never.  Thank you, Angela.  

Clever, resourceful, calm and collected, quick thinking Carol to the rescue!  Seriously.  Her haters must be withering away inside with absolute envy.  

Hey, ya’ll.  Remember when Carol was still mastering her sharpshooting skills at the Prison yard and shot at Rick’s feet?  Her little “sorry, sorry”?  LOL.  If Rick could only see her now.  Wait.  He already knew what so many of his stans refuse to acknowledge--Carol=ultimate survivor and true savior to the group many times over.  

Maggie’s got herself a gun, too.  Go my badass girls.  

Of course, Carol’s got everybody’s back.  Of fucking course, Daryl’s got hers even when everybody else seem frozen in some kind of awe or stupification or something.  Microcosm of the whole damn show right there.  

Carol’s like “here’s your knives, love of my life.”   

Eh.  Maybe that’s just me.  

Nah.  She’s totally thinking it, too.  

YAS!  YAS!  Norman Reedus and Melissa McBride with the top billing.  How very far my babies have come.  

Listen.  I miss all the characters we’ve lost.  Absolutely.  But I love the ones that are still with us, that have been with us for so very long so hard.  Whether I love their stories or decisions or not.  

Is that THE Alexandria sign?  That sign’s been through some shit.  

DOG!  Daryl kneeling to embrace our Grimes babies has me all up in my feels.  And how cute is Dog getting all excited and making sure he’s the first one there to welcome back, Daddy?  

Hershel is literally just as puppy dog cute as Glenn ever was.  Really some Grade A casting.  

What did Maggie call Mr. T?  Ducky?  Dougie?  Sometimes with Maggie?  I really cannot tell.  Anyway.  He’s Mr. T. for me until I find out differently, probably through rewatching with close captioning, lol.  

Maggie’s got more people.  So.  Some new redshirts to sacrifice for plot purposes.  I don’t know if I should bother learning their names or not. 

I seem to remember Meridian being mentioned in one of the episode synopses.  

Sophia’s hair tie around Carol’s neck will never fail to be an emotional throat punch.  My heart.  

“They come at night and by the time you see them, you’re already dead.”  Welp.  Guess that means we ain’t seeing shit for at least this first third of the season, lol.  Very horror-eque though.  

“You’re leaving to fight ghosts.”  Aaron, to Maggie.  So I see Aaron’s the type to get the hell outta Dodge when the Boogeyman comes calling, hahaha.  Least he was.  In the old world.  

Rosita’s pissed off expression at Gabe’s decision to volunteer for the so-called suicide mission gives me life.  

My baby Carol is tired AF of suicide missions.  You can tell.  Also?  Methinks she has something to prove to Daryl here.  Or at least feels like she does.  

Dog with his little tactical vest.  I love it.  

I guess I get why they had Carol and Rosita stay behind.  They had to more evenly split up the badassery to make things more fair and balanced, lol.  

Okay.  So Negan’s definitely earned everybody’s disdain.  But they’re being woefully short-sighted by not at least hearing the dude out.  Isn’t he at least native to the area?  

“That is God telling us to turn around.”  I’m actually on Negan’s side with this one, but Gabe answering him with “I’m pretty sure he would have run that past me first” has me howling with laughter.  Father Gabe has gone straight up savage in these last couple of seasons.  Rosita’s influence, perhaps?  

I see what Angela is doing.  Trying to make Negan the voice of reason.  In this particular case?  It’s kind of working.  I’m still ultimately on Maggie’s side with this though BECAUSE GLENN.  

Imagine showing up to work and unironically dressing like a storm trooper every day.  Excuse me while I LOL.  

Even in the ZA, there’s bullshit paperwork.  

“Pumpkin colored spacesuit.”  Good one, Ezekiel.  

LOL forever.  I love Princess.  

“Michonne.  Our Michonne shut people out of Alexandria for years.”  Timely reminder that choices aren’t always perfect.  Neither are people.  

WTF is reprocessing?  Sounds ominous.  LMAO at Eugene’s “Okay.  We gotta go.”  

What in the actual hell with all those bagged, squirming undead?  Creepy AF in that subway tunnel.  

Should I just go ahead and call that the Easter bunny?  We’ve had some version of it pop up since Season 1.  

Is it stubborn pride with Maggie or what?  Why go through with something when all signs point toward the wisdom of stopping?  You can argue that she’s acting similarly to Carol last season, but there’s a huge difference here folks.  Carol did her damndest to Lone Wolf that shit and minimize the danger to those she loved.  Maggie’s straight up enlisting those she “cares about” to carry out her mission of revenge or vengeance, what have you. Let’s see if she gets near the amount of hate for it.  Personally, I don’t blame her for her feelings one bit.  They are valid.  But her knowingly drawing the others into the game?  That’s my sticking point.  That’s how she and Carol differ, even if some people refuse to see or accept it.  Anyway.  Hopping right on off my soapbox.  

“Why don’t you get up on your little tippy toes and try?”  Omigosh, I’d dying.  When I tell you I about passed out with laughter, I do not exaggerate.  I should hate Negan forever and I do.  Really.  But I adore JDM and he frequently makes me LOL.  He’s made Negan entertaining if not completely redeemable since Angela took over and more layered so I say kudos.  

He has a point about Maggie playing dictator.  Damn you, show, for slanting the writing just that smidgen that makes Negan make sense over his victim.  I guess, though, it’s better this way.  Gives both characters more shades of gray.  

“He’s a dick but he makes sense.”  I feel like this is Angela calling us all out when we dare to harbor any lasting resentment toward Negan for what he did to Glenn.  

Speaking of--Negan.  You deserved Daryl’s punch to the mouth.  You just went a bridge too damn far.  

“Keep pushing me, Negan.  Please.”  Warning shots fired, Asshole.  You better watch yourself around the Widow Rhee.  

Have I mentioned how much I love Princess?  Her shipping the Commonwealth guards is killing me, lol.  I can’t wait ‘til she meets Carol and Daryl.  She’s going to have their number in two seconds flat.  

I like Ezekiel and Princess as a duo.  I’m not saying romantically necessarily.  I just like them in scenes together because they’re fun.  There’s sort of a protective indulgence Ezekiel seems to telegraph whenever they’re in scenes together.  Like he’s like don’t hurt this one.  I don’t know.  For all these words I’ve written, I can’t quite find the ones to adequately describe what I mean.  

The wall of the lost gives me such Battlestar Galactica feels.  What sad thoughts it inspires.  

Eugene in that Commonwealth gear.  Omigosh, lol.  So did they just sneak up and take Princess’s little Commonwealth ship’s gear when they were sneaking off on their own to have a quickie?  

Princess finding that note for Yumiko on the wall actually gave me chills.  Yeah.  I’m easy.  Just the suggestion of someone getting reunited with lost family gets me all up in my feels.  Yumiko saying “I have to stay”?  I felt that.  

Oh no.  Dog ran off!  Somebody protect my favorite fictional puppy.  Of course, Daryl goes after him.  He’s always been the sweet one.  Merle said it.  

Eh.  Negan taking Maggie’s hand at the end there would have smacked too much of Negan Sue and Maggie’s biggest plot of the season would have been prematurely dealt with so I get why they did what they did.  But c’mon.  It’s not really that big of a cliffhanger, is it?  

Okay, so Angela calls those sleeping beauty Walkers “Lurkers” and I get it.  Apparently they’re a bigger deal in the comics, but I really don’t remember seeing them all that much on the actual show.  Somebody jog my memory.  

Of fucking course, you can actually see what’s happening in the inside the episode clips.  I wish we could choose to view the episode with that lighting because some of us be blind.  And this time I mean in the more literal sense.  Not the figurative one.  

Anyway.  I’m going to stop trying to write a novel for ya’ll and move on to better things.  Like maybe a nap.  Maybe some early dinner.  I don’t know.  I’m tired AF and need a little recharge.    

Before I go, though?  Overall impression of the episode?  I liked it.  There were parts that I loved (all the ladies being badass, every second of Carol, Daryl reuniting with the Grimes babies and Dog, all things Princess, some of Negan’s one-liners about had me busting a gut, Rosita serving looks, Kelly and Lydia getting to be badass too) and parts I didn’t love (not being able to see a damn thing, Angela trying to tip the scales in Negan’s favor, not enough Carol or Aaron or Rosita, no reunion between Aunt Carol and the Grimes babies even though that picture floating around suggests it was at least shot, not being able to see a damn thing, all the Alexandria people playing follow the leader for Maggie when she’s been gone 6 years and Daryl’s right there--hell, even Father G deserves the honor over her because it’s obvious they’re not exactly on the same wavelength anymore).  

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m just glad to have our show back.    

Later, lovelies.  

[tigereyes45]

Oooh for the son rarepairs- I would love to read some Dean/Gabriel! I feel like their personalities would mesh fantastically if not for them getting off on a bad start. Maybe for Bisexual or Free Space? 🥺

Honestly, I have been in such deep Debriel feels lately. So I loved this request! Also today is Gabriel’s day as it is a Tuesday & Groundhog’s day so enjoy. (P.S. This is the first SPN fic I’ve ever written and finished so all constructive criticism is welcomed.) Ao3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158887

@spnrareshipbingo

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Gabe tries not to sigh as he and Dean watch The Untouchables for the sixth time this year. It was a decent movie, but six times felt like a bit much. He just couldn't understand how Dean was able to watch it so many times without growing tired of the plot.

"Can you actually taste sugar?"

"What?" Gabe moves off the arm of the couch as he turns to look at Dean. Why was he asking that out of nowhere?

"Can you actually taste sweets?" Dean repeats the question not with exasperation but mild curiosity. He holds his head up with his right hand perched up on the back of the couch. The hunter doesn't even bother to look away from the tv. Gabriel glances back at it as Wallace uncovers Capone's tax fraud.

Gabe stares at Dean. Was he suddenly interested in angel functionality? Why? He could get it up just as well as any human. Dean finally glances over in his direction. It's followed instantly by a roll of his eyes.

"Oh come on. Stop looking at me as if I've grown a third head. Angels can't taste food. Cas said." 

So that's what this was. Gabriel makes a big show of sighing now. He lets out all the pent up sighs he had been withholding throughout the entirety of the movie. Gabriel stretches his arms out.  For a second he's tempted to let a bit of his actual form out. To stretch all the way out towards the ceiling of the bunker. The chances of accidentally blinding Dean were too high to actually give in to the urge. Instead, he falls into Dean's lap. Arms now folded, comfortably under his head. "Did Cas say angels can't taste food or that they can taste every molecule within said food?"

Dean opens his mouth but quickly closes it again. Swallowing his words, perhaps even literally. "Uh,"

Gabe smirks. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Dean frowns at the tv. For a moment Gabe assumes he's satisfied Dean's curiosity. He folds his legs over each other over the couch's arm and makes himself. He was just about to roll his head back towards the tv too when his eye catches on Dean's furrowing brow. This conversation wasn't done yet. Finally, he breaks his silence again. "What's the difference?"

"For most angels, the being able to taste so much makes consuming food and drinks," Gabriel pauses searching for the best word. Finally his tongue lands on, "unpleasant."

Dean looks down at Gabriel. The color of his green eyes would be difficult to make out in the dim light if he was human. Another perk to being an archangel. He could still see those hunter green jacket eyes even in pitch darkness. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that it's an acquired taste Dean-O. It's like," Gabe throws his hands up as he thinks. Dean swerves his head back. Barely getting his face out of the way of Gabe's hands in time. "like, well picture a pie."

"Done." Of course that wasn't difficult for him.

"Now imagine that pie contains not just one flavor of pie in it, but all the flavors of pie."

"That's a lot of pie." Gabriel could see the gears turning in Dean's head now. He also made out the sound of Dean's growling stomach. He'd get him some dinner and pie after the movie.

"Exactly!" Gabe sits up. "But somehow it all fits in a normal-sized pie, and every bite you take tastes of all the flavors of pie in the world at once. Scratch that, in the galaxy."

"Some of those are not going to taste good together."

The archangel shrugs. He leans against Dean's side. "Yeah but some taste really good together and you're tasting it all at one with every bite."

Dean leans his head from one side to the next as he mulls over the thought. "Okay."

"That's what eating is like for angels. We taste every different molecule the food is made of. Hundreds of thousands of bits of food in our mouth all at once in every bite."

Dean's nodding now. There's a shoot out happening in the movie. Which one Gabe wasn't sure of. At this point, he'd lost all interest in the film. He lays back down in Dean's lap. "So why do you eat so many sweets?"

Good question. Worst timing. Now he was actually craving something sweet. "Well at first it was out of curiosity. I wanted to know what humans' food tasted like when I first came down. News flash wasn't that great, but it was simpler. Less to take in when I ate it."

Dean's hand absentmindedly starts to comb through Gabe's hair. He wasn't paying attention to the movie at all now either. It had officially been regulated to background noise. "Then it became about keeping up my façade of being the trickster."

Gabriel frowns at the thought of Loki. Quickly he pushes on. "Eventually the food actually became enjoyable. It was easier to just passively take in the taste of it all, and sweets were the best! They became more sugary, so the molecules started tasting closer to one another. Which made it easier to stuff my face."

A faint smile forms at the edges of Dean's mouth. "So you like sweets because they all taste the same?" This was nice. Talking about something so casual. So much of their days were filled with monsters and world-ending notions. Dean was typically so stressed that they barely talked at all. Well more like he talked and Dean would listen as they worked. Gabriel was enjoying this change of pace so much that he almost forgot to answer Dean's question entirely.

"Not exactly. It's like I can tune out more while eating them. I don't have to think about how the molecules are supposed to taste together to actually taste them anymore. Passively tasting."

"Oh. So it's like beer. Some of it you just drink to drink and the taste stops mattering."

"Yeah. Sure big guy. Only I do it for the opposite effect."

Dean stops running his fingers through Gabe's hair to scratch at his chin. "Okay I think I get why you eat sweets. So why do you eat them in my bed?"

"Why not?" He rolls over in Dean's lap. Now on his side and able to watch the movie. People were yelling at each other, but that was all Gabe could pick up.

"Because I actually sleep unlike you and I enjoy a clean bed."

Okay, this wasn't going to get dropped. He rolls back around to face Dean again. "Yeah and I enjoy a snack on occasion." Gabe playfully cups the side of Dean's cheek in his hands. "Beside sometimes I need a pick me up after our fun."

"You have wings. You can bamf anywhere, eat, then come back." Dean insists and Gabe could tell he was just annoyed more so than anything else.

"Yeah, but why go through that all that effort when I'm already in your bed."

Dean looks down at Gabe. A dull, tired expression on his face. "I'm not going to get you to stop, am I?"

"Nope." Perhaps he's won this already.

"Alright." Dean pushes Gabe out of his lap.

"Hey!" Gabe sits up on the ground as Dean walks away. "Dean-O where are you going?

"To angel proof my room."

Gabe rolls his eyes. "Come on you're not going to do that."

"Oh really? I've got the chalk in my room."

Gabriel scoffs. "Yeah right." After a few moments. "Dean! Dean come on! You're not really gonna kick me out just because of a few candy wrappers are you?" Gabriel stands up staring at the hall Dean just left through. No answer, but he can hear Dean start sprinting down the hall now. Realizing Dean might actually go through with it Gabriel unfurls his wings. The race had already begun.

[thewritewolf]

In Due Time Chapter 21: Fireworks

Marinette and Adrien get ready for Alya’s New Year’s Party

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

“Hey, listen up, everybody!” Plagg yelled as he entered the room in front of Adrien. “The kid is going to a party! And no,” the kwami quickly added as a few others tried to ask questions all at once, “it’s not one that rotten ol’ Gabe is making him go to!”

Adrien entered the living room to cheers and applause from all the kwamis under his care. The only thing stopping him from rolling his eyes were his own nerves. Soon, many of them were zooming and swirling around him as he walked through the room, checking and double checking his attire.

“What’s the matter, bucko?” Stompp said, a frown gracing her face. “I’d thought you’d be chompin’ at the bit to go wild outside your papa’s watch.”

“I am, but…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “The only one I’ve actually hung out with in person has been Marinette. And most of the time, that wasn’t Adrien exactly.”

“Kid, it’s just a mask. I don’t see what the big deal is. Plus,” Plagg said with a teasing grin, “I know you’re looking forward to seeing Tikki’s kid today. Hm…?”

Adrien gently pushed Plagg aside when he leaned close into his face, but Adrien refused to meet his eye. The cat kwami snickered as he floated away. Adrien might like Marinette, but he had no idea if she felt the same way or if he could even afford the luxury of having a girlfriend right now. Necessity had forced romance out of his life a long time ago.

“Besides Marinette,” Adrien said, trying to get back on topic, “I don’t know anyone there. I’m meeting all these people for the first time!” He put a comb through his hair for the third time that night. “What if I just end up lurking next to the food table and being a downer to the rest of them?”

“I’m confused,” Mullo said, scrunching up their nose. “Haven’t you been talking with them using the aether for a while?”

“The device he usssesss is called the internet, Mullo,” Sass corrected gently. “Not the aether.”

“Still. Does the Guardian not already know these other humans?”

“I mean… yes, I suppose,” Adrien conceded. “But-”

“Not buts, kid,” Plagg said definitively. “You’re going to go out there and have a great time instead of slacking here with these guys. Do you understand me?”

“Oooh, the time for another year has already come?” Orikko clucked happily, dancing in midair. “I’m so happy to hear I haven’t missed it!”

“Don’t worry, Orikko, I set an alarm to let you know when midnight hits,” Adrien said as he scratched beside the rooster kwami’s beak.

“Speaking of not worrying, that same thing but to you, kid.” Plagg was tugging at his sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go. Sass has got it handled here.”

Adrien glanced at the snake kwami, who nodded. “Pleassse enjoy yourssself, Massster.”

“Trust yourself!” Mullo said, floating up to Adrien’s face height. “I am sure they will love you just as much as we do!”

“See?” Plagg motioned a paw toward Mullo. “Now come on, I don’t want you to sit here until you give yourself cold feet. And I’m not about to let you pass up the opportunity to hang out with people born in the same geological era as you!”

“You’re right.” Adrien took a deep breath and let himself get a little excited. “Come on, Plagg, let’s go.”

“‘Course I’m right,” Plagg muttered as he flew into Adrien’s coat pocket. “When am I ever not right?”

The sun had already set by the time Adrien had gotten into his car, but there was still plenty of time before the main event of the night. It was a long drive to the part of Paris where Alya lived, long enough to let Adrien think about how time had changed him. Eight years ago he would’ve jumped at the chance to go to a party and make friends.

But having one thing after another ripped out from underneath him had changed his perspective. Being stopped from going to public school. The many parties thrown by coworkers his father had prevented him from seeing. Not to mention all the stuff he’d been forced to bail on because of an akuma attack. Isolation thanks to his family and his duties had done well to keep him from having friends.

But tonight… maybe tonight would be different. The old embers of optimism burned bright inside him, despite what the years had done to extinguish them.

He found a place to park his car and walked up to the apartment. His hands were stuffed into his pockets to ward off the chill and he was still lost in his thoughts by the time he arrived at the front door. His hand touched the door knob at the same time as someone else.

Startled, he looked to see who he had bumped into only to get lost in big, blue eyes.

--------------

“Marinette, I promise you look fine,” Tikki said patiently as her chosen ran a brush through her hair nervously. Tikki smirked. “I’m sure Adrien will love what you’re wearing.”

Marinette fumbled her brush, dropping it. “Don’t just say that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not getting dressed up just for him!”

“Oh?” Tikki said innocently. Far too innocently. “Are you expecting Chat Noir to make an appearance too?”

A blush spread across Marinette’s face as she groaned. “Don’t even joke about that. I don’t know what I’d do if both Adrien and Chat Noir were both at the party.”

“I wouldn’t be too worried about that if I were you,” Tikki said with a knowing smile. She floated off of the desk where she was sitting and toward Marinette. “You know, this might be a good chance to spend some quality time with Adrien, if that’s what you want.”

“To be honest? I don’t know what exactly I want.” Marinette sighed and sat down, smoothing her skirt as she did so. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way about someone, so to have it happen with two people almost at the same time…”

“Did you not have any crushes growing up? I’ve heard that’s pretty common for young humans.”

“I mean, some I guess. Definitely nothing that I’ve acted on. And before you ask, yes I have dated. But never anything serious.”

“But you want something serious with one of them?”

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know,” Marinette said, burying her face in her hands and groaning. “I don’t like to rush into things, but… I haven’t felt a connection like this before.” She waved her hands around. “And now I’ve got two of them!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out! I’ve had a lot of chosen, but never one as clever as you.” Tikki landed on Marinette’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me about your friend’s party? To help get your mind off it.”

“Well…” Marinette said, calming down now that she was switching tracks in her mind. She grabbed her purse, which Tikki rushed into. “Alya got a taste for throwing parties back in university, so they’ve gotten pretty big sometimes. Like the Halloween one where I met Chat - she was selling tickets to that through the Cat Chat.”

Marinette left her apartment, closing the door behind her. She didn’t live that far from Alya’s place, one of many reasons she lived here in the first place. A few minutes of walking and she’d be there.

Tikki frowned. “Are there going to be a lot of people at this one too?”

“No, no,” Marinette said, waving her hand dismissively. “The New Year’s party is usually pretty small. There are usually about ten of us, mostly her and Nino’s friends. It’s nice.”

“So what do you do there?”

Marinette shrugged. “Same thing most people do at parties, I guess. Play games, drink, dance, talk. Although New Year’s is a little special because her apartment has a great view of the fireworks show the city does.”

“Wow! That does sound fun!”

“Right? Anyway, I’m also pretty nervous because Adrien said he’d try to make it. Nino and Alya have been dying to meet him, but…”

“But?”

“Well, they tend to worry too much about me. Which makes me worried that they’ll scare him away by trying to get us together.” She entered the building through the backway, a little shortcut she’d learned over the past couple years.

“Hm…” Tikki hummed, a ghost of a smile at her lips. “That’s definitely a dilemma. Be a shame if they got the two of you to really hit it off with each other.”

“Tikki,” Marinette whined as the door to Alya’s apartment came into view.

“I’m just teasing, Marinette. But still, it wouldn’t be too bad, right?”

Before Marinette could respond, her hand touched the doorknob at the same time someone else’s did. She jumped and was about to apologize when she looked up into bright green eyes.

Both of them stood staring at each other for much longer than Marinette would care to admit. This was the first time they’d seen one another since when they had first met at the fashion show, even if they’d talked plenty of times online.

Eventually, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Hey-”

Naturally he was cut off when the door flew open, Alya standing on the other side. Now, Marinette had known her friend long enough to notice the tell-tale signs of being tipsy and right now Alya checked off all those boxes. Clearly either Marinette and Adrien were the last ones to arrive, or Alya had gotten a head start on the night’s festivities.

That likely contributed to how Alya grabbed them both by the arms and practically dragged them inside, although Marinette wouldn’t put it past her to do that even stone cold sober.

“Come on you two, stop standing outside the door like a couple of weirdos,” she said, laughing. She turned her head toward another part of the apartment and raised her voice. “Hey, babe! Your buddy is here! Come on and meet him!”

Nino poked his head from around the corner, where Marinette knew their living room and therefore game consoles were, and saw his face split into a grin when he spotted Adrien.

“DUDE!” He rushed forward and gently punched Adrien’s arm. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Come on, let me show ya around my crib. It might not be what you’re used to, but me casa es tu casa!”

Nino chuckled and threw an arm around a confused Adrien’s shoulders. Adrien glanced back at her and gave her a slightly worried smile and a wave before he disappeared.

“So,” Alya said, dragging Marinette’s attention back to her. She was looking awfully focused despite the handful of drinks Marinette knew she must have already had. “Let’s talk about you and blondie, hm?

Marinette groaned. It was going to be a long party.

[hypnoscissorsghostnerd]

Are you doing prompts or just posting list for yourself? If doing prompts: 48) “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.” :}

I do both :3 It helps to send me prompts/requests so it helps me stay motivated!Homecoming || Gabriel Reyes x Reader## ╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳The relationship between you and your commander was relatively healthy. But of course, to avoid jealousy of coworkers and people thinking he’s playing favorites, the relationship was secretive. The only other person who knew was your HR rep. Even then, she had nobody else to tell.With that in mind, Gabriel had a bad habit of calling you at the worst times when he was out on missions. And you happened to be in a middle of a conversation with Jesse in the commons when your phone lit up. His curiosity got the better of him and peered over your shoulder. Luckily, Gabe’s caller ID was a simple star emoji and a heart-eyed emoji.“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jesse questions loudly.“Shh!” You press your phone close to your chest, your eyes darting around the room for any eavesdroppers. But of course, nobody was interested in a field captain’s love life. “You have a _boyfriend?” _He repeats, voice lowering. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?”You watch his lip quiver in a pout as you give him a pity smile. You reach over and pull the brim of his hat down in a quick jerk, temporarily blinding him.“You sound jealous,” you tease, but also evading his questions.Your ringtone goes off again and Jesse’s eyes flits up to yours, pushing his hat back properly on his head.“Uh, I gotta get this,” you smile and quickly make your way out of the commons. Unbeknownst to you, Jesse’s eyes never leaves your back, watching you carefully as you leave the room as he grabs the front of his shirt to stop his heart from pounding.You leave the commons, your phone ringing for the third time until you found a quiet utility closet to slip into before finally picking up the phone.“Hey,” you whisper. “What did I say about calling me during daylight hours?”“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Gabe’s deep, rolling voice came in from the other side. He’s speaking in a hushed tone and you knew he was risking the call, too. “We should arrive by tonight. I can’t wait.”“Me, neither,” you couldn’t stop smiling.“Shit,” you hear him growl. “Where are you hiding?”“On the first floor’s utility closet,” you groan. “I’m on the shitter,” he laughs. “There’s zero privacy on these drop ships.”“Gross,” you shake your head. “Any other reason why you called? I should get out of here before it gets suspicious.”“I want you to meet me in my room,” he growls into the phone lowly and you knew he was already aroused. “I haven’t had a chance to touch myself this entire damn trip. I want...I need you. As soon as I get back.”“Impatient, are we?” You huff a laugh. He simply releases a quiet moan into the phone. You can’t wait to hear it in person.“I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin,” he purrs. “I want to see you ready for me when I get back.”You hear Jesse calling for you and your heart leaps as though you were doing something wrong. Your legs cross and you’re embarrassed to feel the wetness between.“I gotta go,” you whisper quickly.“Do what you gotta do,” he replies. “Tonight,” you promise and hang up.Just when you open the door, Jesse looks like he was about to knock. His eyes are wide and startled before he rubs his beard, hiding a pink forming on his cheeks.“What’s going on tonight?” He asks.“Nosy,” you scoff and walk right past him. “Make yourself useful and bring me a latte from the cafeteria and into my office? Vanilla, please. And make it a double. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”Jesse lets out a noisy sigh as you hear his spurs and boots clack heavily on the tiled floors of the commons.“I don’t like bossy, captain-mode you,” he groans.“I should be in ‘captain-mode’ all the time, that way you wouldn’t feel so comfortable making jokes with me,” you say sternly but you peer over your shoulder with a genuine smile. His eyes meet yours before darting down to your lips to soak in the smile. He loved your genuine smiles and it showed in a pink dust over his cheeks.## ——————You had your ear pressed on your door like a teenager trying to wait for their parents to go to sleep to sneak out.It was a little past 11 and Gabe said he would be flying in around midnight. You press your ear harder and listened carefully.No sound.You slip out and press the button lightly as though it would quiet the already nearly-silent door. You were already quietly walking down the corridors with your boots in your hands and a binder so that just in case you were caught, you could pass it off as a nightly inspection. You had taken off your boots to be more silent.You don’t even look at the number pad to Gabe’s room as you entered the numbers quickly and slip in. What you failed to realize was that Jesse was out drinking late in the bar in the basement, clearly the byproduct of the knowledge that you already had a boyfriend for an unknown period of time. Maybe he misread your kindness to be flirts, or the way you would brush away his hair when he ate his food so it wouldn’t get into his mouth. Or that you trusted him with the passcode to your office to deliver messages or to simply hide from young agents clawing for his attention. You had teased him about being “too charming”.But he sobered up for a brief moment when he saw a flash of your hair and the back end of your boots poking out from your underarm.He was going to tell you. Tonight. No civilian could keep your attention for so long. The bond between the two of you—after dangerous mission and long nights of paperwork—he knew for sure it was better than any normal man walking in the streets.Any civilian. Anybody. Even another agent.Then his face of confidence fell when he saw that same flash of hair disappear into the commander’s private quarters.You, on the other hand, finally felt safe behind closed doors, confident that nobody saw you.You put your boots down at the door to show Gabriel you were here when he came in. You went into his bedroom and habitually laid on “your side” of the bed. You pull your clothes off and hid under the covers. There, you waited patiently until you heard the keypad beep outside with the telltale whoosh of the door opening.When he saw your boots at the door, you hear his heavy duffel bag hit the floor and him hastily taking off his combat boots. They, too, fell to the floor with a thud as you hear his heavy footsteps rush to the bedroom.You let out a giggle as you watch the large man appear at the doorway with a silly grin on his face. His goatee was a little unkempt and his cheeks were dusted with a shadow from not shaving for a few days. His hair was tousled from pulling off his beanie in a hurry.“I missed you,” he growls. He pulls off his t-shirt and you watch his dogtags fall down between his pecs. You sit up slightly to show that you weren’t wearing anything underneath the covers. You see his pupils dialate at the sight of you as he lets out a satisfied sigh. Between his legs, under his combat pants, you see a growing bulge.“I can tell,” you said, eyeing the bulge. He lets out a chuckle as he crawls onto the bed on all fours, climbing smoothly over your body.“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he lets out a deep chuckle.“Me, too, Gabe,” you sigh as he makes his way up your body.Gabe’s hands reach the edges of the covers and yanks it off of your. The sudden rush of cold caused wave of goosebumps over your skin and your nipples tightened. Gabe lets out a deep groan as he leans down for an open-mouthed kiss.Gabriel knew how to kiss you; slow and gentle, his lips moving in perfect sync with yours from months of being with you. His tongue is warm and gentle as it slips past your lips and tangles with yours. His hands roam your body, leaning on one arm to the other so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. You feel his arousal hard against your thigh, rocking his hips for the much-needed friction.His lips makes his way down your cheek and down too your neck. There, you feel him nibble you, testing your limits.“Gabe!” You gasp. “No hickeys!”“I’m ready if you are,” he groans against your skin. “I want people to know you’re mine.”“This is so unprofessional,” you try to protest, but his teeth grazes gently on your neck and he sucks so softly, a gasp escapes you and cuts you off.“We already signed the paperwork,” he argues, finding the spot between your neck and your shoulder to kiss. “Besides, I’m tired of McCree flirting with you all the damn time in front of me and I can’t do shit about it.”“Jesse?” You stifle a laugh as his teeth finds your skin again, sucking. A sharp hiss of pain seeps through your teeth as he bites a little too hard and you feel his warm tongue lick the tender spot in apology.“I don’t like that you’re on a first-name basis,” he groans. He bites again and you let out another sharp gasp. But this time, there is no apology lick.“Ah,” was all you could say as he makes his way down your body, pausing at your breasts to take in the supple hard tip into his mouth. There, he sucks and flicks the tip with his tongue, causing you to gasp and shudder.“Your obliviousness is cute,” Gabriel chuckles. “But that’s why it took so damn long to get you into my bed.”“I was shy!” You defend, but you’re cut off again as he finds the valley between your breasts and sucks hard. You look down your body as he lifts his head and you can already count four hickeys on your skin, not including the two that were on your neck and shoulder.He continues his assault on your body as he makes his way down to gently keep leaving marks on your body, his hands gently holding you down as he continues going down until he kisses your thighs.“N-no,” you gasp. “Not there.”Gabriel’s eyes meet yours before climbing back up your body with a look of understanding. Whenever you were uncomfortable, he knew to stop. You watch with curious eyes as he makes his way back up to you again. With one hand, he reaches down and pushes his pants down just enough so that he could pull himself out, too impatient to fully take his clothes off.You feel him press, hard and ready, against your core as he sits up and uses his free hand to gently wrap your leg over his hips. You wiggle your hips down to meet his as he presses slowly into you. You let out a surprised gasp as you feel every inch of him fill you up and slip in. His lips parted and you hear a shuddering breath escape him and his eyes flutter close briefly.“I missed the feel of you,” he groans and his eyes search your body. “I love how you’re covered in my marks.”He gives an experimental thrust and he feels you gasp and twitch under him. He smiles and with a chuckle, he leans over you and rests on his forearms on each side of your head. You look up with amusement and happiness as you watch the pleasure wash over his face. He slowly picks up the speed and his eyes flutter close again, his head rolling forward so that your foreheads touched gently.“Fuck,” he sighs. “I missed you.”“I missed you, too,” you smile. You feel his thrusts already becoming sloppy, his messy hair and unkempt beard a rare sight to see. You take it all in, patiently moving your hips with his as you see his hips works into a fervor into you, chasing his pleasure quickly.He hadn’t had a chance to relieve himself in so long, you knew he wasn’t going to last. So instead of being selfish, you arch your back so that he could thrust deeper into you, encouraging him by digging your heels into his butt.“Oh, Gabe,” you whisper, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “I care about you so much.”His eyes open briefly to meet yours. You expected the look of lust in his eyes as it oftentimes is when he was fucking you like this, but this time, you saw more...You _felt_ more. His lips part slightly as his hips buried deep into you, only moving for slow, shallow thrusts as his eyes continue to stare directly into your core.“I,” he hesitates. His lips part again and again, trying to form words. You tilt your head, your brows furrowing in concern. “I think I...”“What?” You laugh lightly. “What are you trying to say, Commander?”The sound of his formal title caused his hips to stop. And for a moment, you thought you did something wrong. His face fell and he looked at you with such a serious expression your own smile faded from your face.Suddenly, you knew what he was trying to say.Suddenly, your heart pounded harder and you were nervous.“I care about you, too,” he finally mutters out.You encourage his continue for pleasure as you arch your hips against him, thrusting him back into you. He gasps and his hips move with you, slowly picking up the pace before you feel his cock twitch hard within you. He moves faster and you hold him closer to your body.You don’t know what came over you or what made you say it, but you said it.“I love you, Gabriel,” you whisper into his ear.You hear him gasp as hips head bowed against yours. His beard scratches your ear as his lips searches for your neck again and began kissing it. For a moment, you thought you made a mistake.Much to your surprise, his hips picked up the pace and you feel his body coil and curl against you, his breath shuddering as your words spurred something within him.So, you try again.“I love you, Gabriel Reyes.”You felt goosebumps run down his body as you hold him close to you. His hips thrust faster into you, his breath picking up into rapid pants. He groans your name, encouraging you to say it again.“I love you, Commander Gabriel Reyes,” you moan.Gabe’s back arches as he finishes quickly and unexpectedly inside of you. It must’ve surprised him because his groans were loud and deep, his hips slowing and jutting into you with every wave of his orgasm, his mouth open and breath hot against your neck. You knew he was ashamed that he came before you and you reassured him as best as you could, running your hands gently up-and-down his body with slow, meaningful strokes.“I love you, too,” he says, gasping your name as he came down from his high. “I love you, too.”He repeats himself a couple more times as he softens up within you, pulling out only when he wasn’t so sensitive from post-orgasm. He slowly lifts his head so that his eyes meet yours. He smiles sheepishly and kisses your nose.“Just so you know, Jesse was pretty upset when he found out I had a boyfriend,” you smile into a kiss.“Please don’t ever mention his name while I’m inside you,” he groans loudly.“Sorry.” But your laugh said otherwise.

[5typesoftrash]

So Here’s the Thing

I know I should be writing prompts (or better yet, doing schoolwork) but this random TFL ficlet popped into my head and I just had to write it. So here you go.

Dean is driving.

He’s known to do that from time to time, when he needs to get somewhere, when he’s angry, when he needs to clear his head… and right now, he definitely needs to clear his head.

He couldn’t stay in that Bunker surrounded by those three men, he would die. He needed to escape, to get away, to be alone with his Baby. The only one he could rely on without fail every time.

There’s only one way to describe this: fuck.

So Dean drives.

 Dean doesn’t return to the Bunker for several hours, but when he does, Cas is waiting for him eagerly at the door. He looks like he’s been worrying, he seems relieved by Dean’s return, but he also smiles at Dean in that soft way like Dean’s his favorite person on earth.

Dean fucking hates it.

He shoulders past him, his walls springing up because what? No he didn’t cry in his car, what are you talking about and he needs to be angry instead of sad and confused for at least thirty seconds. He doesn’t miss the near-devastation on Cas’s face as he completely ignores the friendly greeting.

Dean goes into his bedroom, bypassing kitchen and library where he knows Gabe and Sam will, respectively, be. He can’t face any of them right now.

 So here’s the thing about Cas.

In some ways, he was Dean’s “Gay Awakening™”. He dropped into Dean’s life, blew out all the lights, let Dean fucking stab him and stood there, coolly staring at Dean, like he was surprised and impressed.

A fucking angel.

And then he was always around with his messy dark hair and his ocean-blue eyes and his trench coat and his sex voice. And Dean was… well, Dean was kind of fucked, to be honest. Because Cas was different, he was new and bright and enthusiastic and also… kind of… hot.

And yes. It took Dean literally a decade to admit that to himself. He’s an idiot. Isn’t that what Sam’s been telling him since he was twenty?

In essence, Cas is ruination.

 Sam corners Dean around seven pm, demanding why he hasn’t eaten dinner yet and this is so not like you, dude, why are you sulking? Dean shoves him away.

Sam somehow manages to force his way into the room – curse the bitch and his broad shoulders – and forces Dean to sit on his bed, but he can’t force Dean to talk. Eventually he gives up and goes to bring Dean some food because goddammit, Dean, you know I worry about you and Dean picks at it and leaves it on his bedside table to throw out at midnight while Sam’s asleep.

Sam gives him that look that Dean hates, the look that’s part puppy-dog eyes and part bitchface number four hundred and sixty-two: Why Can’t You Take Care Of Yourself? That look that’s all worry and love that makes Dean feel things.

His least favorite activity.

Dean wants to punch him or scream at him or something but he can’t because Sammy is still his baby brother and he’s trying to help and Dean isn’t that big of an asshole. Usually.

Sam scrubs a hand down his face, sighing heavily, and walks out of the room.

Dean watches Sam leave and pretends he’s not crying.

 So here’s the thing about Sam.

He was the first. Full stop. He was the first a lot of things for Dean. But mostly, he was the first thing Dean cared about enough to die for. And that’s scary. Dean has always managed to love Sam more than he hated himself, which is quite a feat. Dean’s never been comfortable with having things to love, because when he has things, that means he could lose them.

Dean wants Sam safe and happy above all else, but another, more selfish part of him also wants Sam near him, so that Dean can know that he’s safe and happy. Dean wants to be able to check up on him, to observe, and when Sam is close, Dean feels secure.

Dean feels.

Dean feels far too much when it comes to Sam. It’s really annoying, not to mention outright terrifying, to love a person that much.

In essence, Sam is terror.

 Dean emerges from his room three days later, gaunt and pale, having barely slept and not eaten since the burger Sam thrust at him that evening. Gabriel purses his lips and starts making food for Dean.

Now, Dean knows Sam loves Gabriel. Every time Sam looks at the archangel he gets this glint in his eye like he had with Jess the one time Dean saw them together, like Gabriel means the world. Dean also knows that Sam loves Cas, because every time they bump into each other Sam laughs that happy laugh that means that he’s content and safe and Dean wants him safe. But especially, Dean knows that Cas and Gabe love Sam.

And he’s fine with that, for the most part, so long as they don’t get all up in his face with it. If they want to do their thing, if they want to all be together… far be it from Dean to stop them.

Gabriel presses a plate of pasta into Dean’s hand alongside a witty comment about being thinner than a stick. His brow is furrowed in worry, and Dean sneers at him because he’s only worried for Sam’s sake.

He’s only worried for Sam’s sake. Dean wishes that didn’t hit him so hard.

He reluctantly takes the food and walks away and Gabriel grabs his arm. When Dean turns back, he’s all seriousness, which Dean is definitely not used to. His face says we’ll get it out of you and Dean sticks out his tongue like a child before walking away.

 So here’s the thing about Gabriel.

He’s annoying as all fuck. He and Dean have a relationship that consists almost entirely of antagonism and playful banter that borders on actual mutual hatred. They yell and tease and act all angry but at the end of the day Dean still knows he’d sacrifice anything for Gabe.

He wishes he wouldn’t.

Dean avoids Gabriel more than anyone else in the Bunker because Dean has no idea how to feel about him, or how he does feel about him. He confuses the everloving shit out of Dean, scrambles his brain, derails his train of thought.

In essence, Gabriel is distraction.

 Dean drives. Every chance he get, he drives away from the Bunker, just wanting to escape from the suffocating environment. Dean drives to protect himself so he doesn’t have to face the fact that he is too far fallen.

Dean drives.

Dean is driving at 6:03 in the morning on July ninth, when Castiel appears in the back of his car.

“Dean,” he says seriously. “We need to talk about this.”

Dean swerves and says “no.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“You don’t own me,” Dean spits back, even though it’s an outright lie.

Cas shakes his head. “Why can’t you stand to be near me? Any of us?”

Dean grits his teeth and ignores the question.

Cas looks crestfallen. “We miss you, Dean,” he murmurs, and then he disappears.

 Dean drives. He doesn’t stop driving for almost twenty-four hours, but eventually he stops at a super shady motel with a failing shingled roof and a stutter red VACANCY sign that makes him wonder if there really are any vacancies.

There is one.

He takes the room with the too-large bed, sits on the edge and tries to sort some things out.

 So here’s the thing about Dean.

Dean never really learned how to be a person. He only ever existed to do things for people. He was John’s warrior, Sam’s protector, a hunters’ legend. He never had a real purpose, and he was raised and trained, had it drilled into him that he was not worthy of love.

Which is why Dean pushes himself away.

Even though the four of them fit together perfectly.

Because Dean doesn’t deserve good things. Dean doesn’t get good things. And even if they wanted him, which they don’t, Dean would never accept it, because they are good, and Dean…

In essence. Dean is a ticking time bomb.

 When Sam knocks on the door to the motel room Dean jumps six feet, and when he realizes who it is he seriously considers slipping out the window. But Sam’s standing there, separated from him by barely a foot of wood and how the fuck does he always look like a kicked puppy and Dean has always been weak for Sammy, so he unlocks the door and opens it.

And Sam tackles him, strong arms enveloping his entire body and Dean doesn’t care enough to pretend to fight it so he just lets Sam hug him and doesn’t ask which angel teleported him here. He sinks into his brother and Sam makes a strangled sound against his hair. And then Dean does fight, he pulls away, and he can’t look at Sam because he knows if he sees Sam cry he’ll cry too and he can’t do that.

So he sits back down on the bed and stares at the wall, and he hears Cas and Gabe join Sam in the doorway, and he can feel their disappointed and sad looks burning into his back, and when a hand falls on his shoulder, he turns.

And there they are, those blue eyes that he’s obsessed with, right next to him, and he doesn’t think. He lunges forward and pulls Cas against him and Sam makes another little sound, not at all like the one he made earlier, and-

When Cas kisses Dean back, the universe explodes.

 So here’s the thing about Team Free Will (the third iteration).

They are good. They’re happy living together in the bunker, and they’re good.

It’ll take a very long time, but eventually they’ll learn (especially Dean) that they do deserve good things, and that they have earned everything they’ve gotten. Someday, when the world is no longer in constant danger and their lives are slightly less hectic, they’ll realize that there’s nothing else to be afraid of.

In essence, the four of them are happy.

[jardin-de-l-imagination]

#1/?

I'm kinda planning of writing a Percy Jackson fic? So excuse my rant here of what I have planned I just kinda wanna have it written out and given some feedback hopefully before I really start. Some stuff might be triggering for some people. Including drugs, alcohol, rape, abuse, and self hate so far. Percy isn't a go happy guy, and hasn't been for awhile in the books. Btw REALLY LONG OMG.

Percy is gonna be a bit younger because I for some reason wanna have it cross over with marvel. Sorry. And ship him with Peter. Also sorry but not really.

The first changes is gonna be with Sally and a little bit of how she raised Percy. She teaches him of mythology and languages because she also knows many and knows it'll do him good because they're in the same area of where Greek is commonly used. Italian, Crotian, and Romanian, her family went around and had good taste. I wanna have Sally be a Roman legacy but I'm not sure of who just yet.

The second chapter would be his early preteens and his love/addiction of blue food. Kinda innocent and his relation of blue foods and his love for his Ma. As he grows older and Gabe gets in the picture his addiction of blue foods changes to drugs and alcohol from Gabe threatening them. He wants them to depend on them and him. The rape starts from the beginning of Gabe's relationship/marriage with Sally to be honest. Maternity rape is real and I doubt she always meant yes but would say it so he wouldn't hurt her more. He definitely would threaten the other (Sally / Percy) of harm of the other (Percy / Sally) if they were to misbehave. He'll eventually get himself out of it and help Sally recover while they're still stuck with Gabe. He goes back to loving blue food and uses it as a replacement whenever he has a craving.

The third would be his experience with school. Dyslexia and ADHD shows up right when he starts and some teachers reach out to Sally on ways to "fix him". She doesn't wanna have him depend on medication, definitely happy with that when Gabe happens, so he suffers with explaining " yes I have ADHD and dyslexia, no I'm not making it up to not pay attention" to everyone in every school he ever goes to. Some schools he has good teachers that believe him and wanna help him find ways to learn with his different types of dyslexia because of course he'll have more than what's common in a demigod. Sometimes he wouldn't get expelled from school but would have to deal with a suspension and have to find a way to hide it from Sally and Gabe. He learns better with facial reading and lying throughout these years. He'll have good relations with history, language, tech, and music teachers. Also the lunch and security and front desk people. He got along better with people older then him than people in his class.

The next might just be various moments with Gabe and his friends with either Sally saving him, one of Gabe's okay friends helping him, him turning things for the worse before he learns "the system*1", or with Gabe winning. Includes him learning how to apply makeup to hide bruises, lying about marks and cuts, how to heal stuff quicker, getting rid of smells, sewing, packing clothes tightly, and emergency numbers and places. Thoughts of running away and making things better for his Ma. Self hate and doubt of his reasons for living any longer. Decides running away would be better but he can't bring himself because he loves, is loyal to, her. That's brings MONEY MAKING. I grew up with people making money selling anything in school so he will too and will market off of this for any emergency because Gabe always takes his and Sally's money. Selling simple things like pencils and gum, later cool erasers that teachers confescated that he stole in return. Eventually he had to stop and find new ways to make money, and what's one quick way in New York? Drugs. NO!!.

*1 the system is based on what I learned growing up. If I had a good morning then I'll have a terrible night, Terrible morning then a good night. But sometimes you had to look for signs when it might just be a bad day overall. Conversations, how the person is acting (agitated, short temper, not patient), moody with everything from; lights, sounds, smells, how things are organized, nothing is good enough, privacy. The slightest thing that was good meant nothing when that person had more control of how your day would go. Of course this is my experience personally and I'ma add this in this fic.

He goes about using his talents with music to make some money. He can't risk Gabe, his friends, or even sally recognizing him so he always hides himself and would freestyle on the violin or guitar that he is able to keep at school because he's part of band. It keeps his away from home till Sally is out of work. He got into music because it was always calming to him and helps him concentrate. Sally was able to get him a chance to learn some before Gabe stopped them. Sometimes if there's a piano he'll play that too. Once he's makes money he carefully and reluctantly uses some for better equipment such as speakers and a microphone. His friendship with Peter is helpful with making it easy to bring around or stash at his place once he drops out of band or doesn't even joins his new schools band.*2. They would sometimes go out and just be dumb boys and fool around, Peter for fun and Percy for future possible survival and fun. Who can I connect with that will give me a discount? Who is less attentive of their stock? Where does the best wallets come from? Who accepts homeless and when? Libraries?

*2 this goes with my headcannon of Percy having more power, specifically pertaining to Sirens. Overall his voice is pleasing to listen to. When he's young it's nothing exceptional and are expecting someone to try and make him famous but as he grows up and sings more and gets more comfortable his voice is more smooth and silky. The mood of the songs can also affect people listening and draws people's attention and usually leads to him having people crowd around him whenever he's performing. He sometimes works with Peter with him dancing. He doesn't typically do pop songs since he likes rock music more so he'll change songs to him mood and tempo more fitting to what he enjoys.

He meets Peter when he and Sally are recovering. To disguise their time using money for drugs they'll go around walking or making up for lost time. She treats Percy as a silent thank you to a trip to the aquarium in Queens. There he meets Peter who is recovering from his traumatic friendship with Skip. They make quick friends and Sally and May and Ben make plans because they haven't seen their kid be this happy in a long time.

He becomes insomniac pretty early on even before the horrors of being a demigod. Someone once broke in their apartment and Gabe took it out on them so now he's even more sensetive to any sounds he hears at night. Either from his Ma crying, Gabe and his friends, or nightmares keeping him up. He usually sleeps under his bed because of Gabe putting his stuff on his bed and trashing his room. He'll wake up and go under the blankets when he hears Sally's footsteps coming to his room to not worry her.

Going to school is a blessing and a curse because that means no Gabe but that also means no Sally sadly. He constantly has to make a choice be happy for now? Or prepare for when that happiness goes away later. Meaning, do I hang out with Peter or do I go and make money street performing. Do I go to a school far from home so that I don't have to see Gabe but not see Sally, but that means she won't have to worry.

Once he finds out he's a demigod imagine all the self hate he gets. Any possible talents he thought he had. Anything that made him him, his love of blue, the sea, his features ( sure Sally would say he looks like his father he hoped he still had something that was from her, something that was just him ). But nope it all connects to Poseidon. Everything he likes and was confident about came from him. He wasn't anything special. He was just made to be used for their wars and fights and prophecy since they can't be involved but they don't wanna die from at the same time.

He knows of mythology with the help of his small closest group of friends and family, not what's taught at camp. He treats Medusa kinder and begs her to understand why he needs to continue and relates to her pain and apologies for what his birth father did to her. She allows him to kill her for a way to get rid of his pain Gabe. At camp he puts on a different kind of mask because he has no idea who he is at the beginning. A demigod? What the fuck?? What does that mean for him then? He's lost so he dumbs himself down. He has street smarts so he needs to get a layout of the place and the people. What's the stereotypes of groups. Who's the outliers. Where can I be me and with who. With Clarisse he hides what experience he has with fighting to seem weaker, the talk of prophecy can't be good and he didn't want anything with it. And with the talk of prophecy from the girl with blonde princess curls, and he feels used throughout their journey for a bit because this is what she wanted isn't it? To go out in the world and use her brain for better things. He's worried that she'll be like this onwards that this friendship is temporary just for her gain. Thankfully she stays. Watching his mother "die" from the Minotaur hurts him terribly because of course it's gonna be his fault that she dies. When he falls from his fight against Ecihdina and Chimera it pushes him to embracing the water side of him more and look tried gettingcontrol of it. Although the trap set by Hephaestus is rigged it doesn't push for Aphrodite to ship Percy with Annabeth. She can see he has doubt of even friendship and she stays respectful of that. Not everyone can cope with grief with romance. He meets Nico and Bianca at the casino but isn't able to pull them out. He doesn't make the connection till the next time he meets them. His loyalty brings him to the underworld wanting his mother back and his growing loyalty to the camp with the date drawing near for the solstice. He knew Hades couldn't be at fault and explaining so to him and Persephone builds his future relationship with them. His fight against Ares is helped by Posedion but also his growing anger of him wanting to endanger his friends. Luke still betrays everyone and everyone knows. He returns to his mom and Peter and life goes on.

Okay this a part one for a planning rant I'm going to sleep now

[puckinghell]

Only Once | Tyson Barrie

Plot: today, everything just goes wrong Word count: 1890 Note: I wrote this because I had a bad day but I have no Tyson Barrie. Sad life.

All things considered, you were a pretty good person. At the very least, you always tried to be. You were nice to waiters, even when they got your order wrong. You never cursed at people who cut you off while driving. You let people go in front of you in line at the grocery store if they only had a few products, while you were trying to get through a week’s worth of food. And there were a whole bunch of charities you supported regularly.

But you must’ve done something bad, because your karma today was awful.

It had started out as a fine morning. The sky was blue when you woke up to your alarm and you had slept well. But as soon as you got dressed, your day turned around.

First, you dropped the milk carton. With no milk, you were forced to have your cereal dry, and that really wasn’t a good taste. You were ready to get over it, but when you got into your car to go to work, it didn’t start.

Great. One of those days. You sighed, texted your boyfriend, who was currently still asleep, if he would please take a look at your car - not that Tyson was such a mechanic, but hopefully he’d get the hint and just take your car to the shop for you - and decided to walk to work, instead. When you got there a bit late, your boss threw a fit, because there was an important client there for you and now he had to wait. You were a people pleaser at heart and an ass chewing from your boss was just what you needed for your mood to drop to below zero.

You got through your talk with the client, who was an arrogant asshole, and when you went to send your boss the rapport, your computer crashed. It was at that moment that you considered going home to have a good cry.

But you pushed through, managed to get the computer working again, realized you’d forgotten not only your lunch but your wallet, begged some money of your colleague to at least buy yourself a sandwich, and when the clock finally struck 5, you were ready for the day to be over.

Except it wasn’t, because then, halfway through your walk home, the blue sky turned grey and it started raining like there was no tomorrow.

You stepped into your apartment soaked to the bone, incredibly annoyed, and on the brink of tears.

“Tys?” you called out for your boyfriend, and a “hey babe!” sounded back from the living room, where you found him behind the television.

“Had a good day?” he asked. You almost laughed with how ironic that question was, but decided you didn’t want to dump all your problems on him. The Avs were having a bad stretch and he had enough to worry about, besides, it was rare for him to have some time off and you bet he was exhausted.

“Did you look at my car?” you countered his question instead.

He answered without taking his eyes away from the television. “No, sorry, babe. Practice took a bit longer than expected because Gabe wanted to try a few new things.”

You felt your heart sink. That meant that you’d have to get up extra early tomorrow to walk to work again, and you also had no idea when you’d get time to get your car to the shop. To be honest, you weren’t even really sure how to get a car that didn’t start anywhere. Would you have to call a tow truck?

“Oh,” you mumbled, and sighed. Don’t take it out on him, you told yourself, feeling yourself get more annoyed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

But Tyson didn’t even really seem to hear you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from slamming the bedroom door behind you. Rumbling through your closet to find some comfortable clothes, you tried to push the tears back. You hated how easily you cried, how your first instinct when you were upset was to burst into tears.

Footsteps approached the bedroom door and you wondered, hoped even, that Tyson had noticed your mood and was coming to check up on you.

“Hey babe, have you seen my grey hoodie?” he asked, and disappointment washed over you as you realized he hadn’t noticed anything.

Hadn’t noticed, or just simply didn’t care.

“I don’t know, Tyson, maybe it’s in that pile of clothes on the bathroom floor that I keep telling you to put in the laundry,” you snapped, and his eyes widened in surprise at your outburst. “Maybe you can keep track of your own goddamn stuff, because I’m your girlfriend, not your mother.”

You stomped into the bathroom and slammed that door behind you, too. And that’s when you started to cry.

You quickly peeled off your clothes, still wet from the rain, and stepped into the shower. The hot water mixed with the tears on your face and after about 10 minutes, you felt yourself starting to calm down. And that’s when you started to feel guilty.

It was true that Tyson was a bit behind with his laundry, and he had a bad habit of leaving things scattered around the apartment, but he had just asked you a simple question, and you’d gone all out at him, unloading all your frustrations. It wasn’t fair of you. Especially because you knew that if you’d simply answered his earlier question, and told him you had a bad day, he’d be the most understanding, supportive boyfriend, like he always was.

You put on some yoga pants and one of his Avs hoodies, and searched through the pile of clothes on the floor. With Tyson’s grey hoodie in your hands, you walked towards the living room. Tyson wasn’t there, but you could hear water running in the kitchen, so you made your way there.

He was standing at the sink, putting dishes in the dishwasher. When he heard you approach, he sent you a sheepish smile.

“I figured I’d do that other thing you’ve been asking me to do for a while. I’ll get those clothes in the laundry after this.”

Of course he’d taken your snappy remark to heart. Now you felt even more guilty.

“I found your hoodie,” you mumbled, showing him the fabric in your hands. “Tys, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…” you swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat that was already forming again. God, hadn’t you cried enough? “Bitchy,” you finished, and instantly, Tyson’s face fell even more.

“No, you weren’t being unreasonable. You did tell me to sort out my shit and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

Fucking great, now your boyfriend felt awful because of you. That was enough to send you over the edge again, and when Tyson saw the tears spilling over, he cursed under his breath.

“Oh no, don’t cry! I promise I’ll never leave my laundry on the floor again.” He rushed over but stopped in front of you, one arm outstretched, silently asking you if you even wanted him to hug you, or if you were too mad at him. You dropped the hoodie on the floor and threw yourself against his chest.

Instantly his arms wrapped around your back and he pulled you in close, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your back as he hummed soothing words into your ear.

“It-It’s not that, I just had a bad day and I took it out on you and I’m s-sorry,” you sniffed into the fabric of his shirt, that was getting wetter with your tears by the second.

“Shh, it’ll be okay, hey, we’re fine,” Tyson whispered, squeezing you a bit tighter.

“It’s not f-fine, I’m really sorry, I feel like s-such a b-bitch.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, a bit louder. “You know it’s my job to be your personal boxing ball whenever you need to take out some frustration.”

That was so utterly untrue and yet, you knew he meant every word of it. You pictured yourself using Tyson as a boxing ball; with your small stature and his giant one, he probably would barely notice. Despite everything, you smiled.

Noticing that you were starting to calm down, Tyson pulled away, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs brushed the tears away from your cheeks.

“How about we go cuddle on the couch and you can tell me all about your bad day. Unless you prefer yelling at me a bit more.” His eyes were twinkling as he spoke and you lightly smacked his arm, which earned you a laugh. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the couch, pulling you down with him and tucking you into his side.

You told him all about your day and when you were done, he tenderly pressed his lips against your cheek.

“Hey, you know what?” he hummed. “I’m really proud of you.”

You frowned. “I literally just told you that everything I did today was a mess.”

“No, your day was a mess. But you dealt with it.”

“By yelling at you,” you protested. “That’s not a good way to deal with it.”

He shrugged. “Still counts as dealing with it. You had a bad day, and you lived through it. You know, that’s the good thing about bad days. You only have to live them once. Only once, and then you never have to live that bad day again.”

You’d never thought about it before, but when he said it like that, full of conviction, it actually made a lot of sense.

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow, and then I’ll call someone to take a look at your car.” He chuckled. “We both know I would have had no idea how to fix it anyway.”

You knew he was tired and didn’t want him to get up early just for you, but when you opened your mouth to protest, he pressed a finger against your lips.

“Nope. I’m doing it and you can’t stop me.”

Knowing he was damn stubborn when he wanted to be, you sighed, then nodded. “Thanks, Tys. You’re the best.”

A cheeky expression fell over his face as he grinned. “Even when I don’t pick up my dirty laundry?”

“Even then.” You took hold of his face and kissed him, before grabbing the remote. “And you’ll be even better if you watch a Disney film with me.”

“Yuck, girly.” He pulled a face and then laughed as you elbowed him in the ribs.

“You promised you would watch them with me!” He had, earlier this year when you’d told him about your resolution to watch every single Disney film ever made.

“Yeah, but this is the third time you’ve put on Lady and the Tramp! I promised you I’d watch them with you once!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but you love me, and I had a bad day, so you’ll watch it again.” Then you shushed him as he tried to speak again, pointing to the television. “Shh, it’s about to start.”

You felt his arms tighten around you and he pressed his face into your hair as you heard him whisper one last protest.

“Only once.”

[megsblackfirewrites]

We Could be Heroes

Gabriel purged his stomach into the toilet for the third time in the last ten minutes. He groaned, slumping against the bowl, and spat excess bile into the water. If there was a hell, there was no way it was worse than this.

His whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerves were constantly firing, telling him that he was in pain, but there was nothing nearby that was the cause of it. His muscles ached like he had just ran for three days straight. There was nothing in his stomach anymore since he kept throwing everything up. There was no chance of bladder retention; he pissed himself almost as soon as he drank something.

This was Hell and God was a lazy son of a bitch for creating His version.

“Hey,” Jack called as he poked his head in. “You good?”

Gabriel groaned and glanced at the kid. Eighteen, the kid was eighteen. He’d barely finished his basic training before the program snapped him up. He’d seen the file on Jack Francis Morrison and he was impressed. Kid had good stamina, could plan on the fly, and did not hesitate when he had his goals in mind.

The kid was also amazing at keeping him entertained. He didn’t know how someone could be so young and be such an amazing individual. He couldn’t think of any eighteen year olds from L.A. that were as interesting. It must have something to do with growing up out in the middle of nowhere. It filled you with a need to entertain others because you never knew when you were going to see someone.

Jack eased his way into the bathroom and grabbed a face cloth. He turned the water on and put his hand under it, waiting for it to warm up. He ran the face cloth under the water once he was satisfied with the temperature, wrung it out, and turned the water off.

“Here,” he said before he knelt down and started cleaning Gabriel’s face.

“Don’t mommy me,” Gabriel grumbled.

“I’m not, asshole,” Jack said before he brushed bile off of Gabriel’s jaw. “Week ten injections are that bad?”

“Every week sucks,” Gabriel said as he closed his eyes. “This one is just…kicking my ass.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack said as he stood up to rinse the face cloth off. “Makes me scared for when the big stuff starts getting shoved under my skin.”

“You’ll be fine; you’ve got good genetics,” he said.

Jack glanced at him and managed a smile. “Good genetics don’t mean sweet shit,” he shrugged.

Gabriel snorted. Genetics had a part to play in all of the parts of this program. The weak were winnowed out almost immediately; Gabriel didn’t like it, but that was the nature of war. They would get slaughtered by the damn omnics if they weren’t stronger and ready to keep going through Hell. Considering what they were going through now, war was going to be a fucking vacation.  

“You don’t think your genetics are good, kid?” Gabriel asked.

“I’m your average American teenager, Gabriel,” Jack sighed. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“You haven’t seen your file then,” Gabriel smirked before he turned back to the bowl.

He threw up again, gagging hard on the ball of vomit that lodged itself in his throat for a moment. He came back to awareness to find a warm cloth on the back of his neck and Jack’s hands rubbing soothing circles into his back. Gabriel managed a smile before he slumped forward again.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbled miserably.

Jack let out a soft hum before he rested a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Do…do you think this is necessary?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Gabriel said as he closed his eyes. “The omnics will slaughter us all. I know that; I’ve seen it. It…normal soldiers can’t deal with them. Germany had to build a squad of giants with shields and massive fucking hammers, Jack. We have to step up our game or we’re going to be eradicated.”

“I’ve seen the news,” Jack murmured. “I know that they’re heavily edited, but they were still horrific. It’s what made me join.”

Gabriel lifted his head. “Really? Haven’t always wanted to be soldier?”

“Always wanted to be a doctor,” Jack smiled. “Maybe a vet. But, I had to do my part. People need to be sewn up in the army so I thought it was the next logical step. No point going through for a doctorate if we get wiped out, right?”

“And now you’re here getting ready to get stuck full of needles,” Gabriel sighed before turning his head to vomit into the bowl.

“Yup,” Jack chuckled before he rubbed Gabriel’s back. “But I’m ready, even if it kills me. At least I can say that I tried.”

Gabriel sat back and wiped his chin off. His stomach settled enough to let him actually breathe. He glanced at Jack and reached out to ruffle the buzz cut blond hair. Jack looked at him in surprise, bright blue eyes blinking at the display of affection.

“You’re a good kid,” Gabriel said before he tipped his head back and groaned. “Let’s hope you make it out of this with your life. World would be a miserable place if it lost you, boy scout.”

Jack let out a laugh before he helped hoist Gabriel’s larger body to his feet. His knees knocked together as he helped direct Gabriel to the bunk, but he didn’t falter all the way there. He helped Gabriel flop onto the bed, ignoring the groaning as he tucked Gabriel in and got him a puke bucket. Gabriel let out a grunt of thanks before closing his eyes and immediately falling asleep.

Jack watched Gabriel sleep after he got a trash can set up next to him. The last thing he wanted his friend to do was have to book it to the washroom if he had to be sick again. It would reek to high heaven, sure, but it was better to lean over and puke than try not to spew while running for another room.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself; seeing Gabriel react to the injections the way he was terrified him. Jack had a great pain tolerance, but if someone as strong and resilient as Gabriel was reduced to a puking heap, he didn’t stand a chance. He was almost half of Gabriel’s weight, a little shorter, and younger. Whatever was kicking his ass was going to tear his apart.

This was not what he had been expecting when he’d agreed to join the SEP. He hadn’t thought it would be injections. He hadn’t thought it would be endless tests, both physical and written, and he hadn’t thought that he would be fed horrible food to make sure nothing interfered with their body absorbing whatever the fuck they were being pumped full of.

He was scared.

He had joined the army to be a doctor. He wanted to help people, to help them keep living even if their bodies were ready to give up. He’d wanted to be the simplest hero around, just a face in the crowd that knew what they did had saved more lives than anyone could imagine. Instead, he was here in a bunker getting stuck full of needles with the promise that, if he lived, he’d be going head-to-head with the omnics.

“I can hear your teeth chattering, Jack,” Gabriel murmured. “You cold?”

Jack shook his head, glancing at Gabriel. He must have zoned out if Gabriel had woken up without a word. The man did not know how to be quiet when waking up; he yawned like a lion. Loud and wide to show off all of his teeth. It was adorably cute.

“Scared,” he admitted.

“Of?”

“What’s going to happen to us,” Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. “What life we’re going to have if this all goes sideways. I’m…terrified.”

Gabriel pushed himself up onto an elbow and looked at Jack. “We’re going to be heroes if we survive,” he said. “Even if we don’t, we were willing to do everything in order to protect those that can’t defend themselves.”

Jack nodded and chewed on his lip. “But…what if that sacrifice isn’t enough? What if we do all of this and we still lose?”

“Then at least we tried,” Gabriel huffed. “And since when are you a defeatist?”

Jack looked at his knees. “I…I’m scared, Gabe, cut me a little slack.”

“Hey,” Gabriel’s smile translated easily through his voice, “don’t worry so much. Leave that to me, your commanding officer.”

“We’re all busted back down to ‘private’, Gabe. No one has any sort of rank outside of the people in charge of this madhouse.”

Gabriel shrugged a shoulder. “And? I’ve got fighting experience. I know what it’s like out there right now. You leave planning and worrying to me, okay? You need to focus on staying alive and not letting something as stupid as a little needle kill you.”

Jack let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Isn’t this a flip of reality?” he asked. “Usually, I’m the one giving the pep talk.”

“We can’t be strong all the time, Jack. Hell, I’m puking my guts out over here and I haven’t been sick since grade 10 when I got strep throat. I’m not scared to put in the extra time if it means watching you smile, boy scout.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Jack shot him a look. “Now I feel like an even bigger dumbass.”

“Don’t. I mean it. Your smile lights up a room, Jack. Makes all this pain seem worth it. Want to make sure that other people not only get to see that smile, but that there are generations after us that will have bright smiles like that.”

Jack found himself smiling. “Go back to sleep, old man; you’re getting sentimental.”

“Dick,” Gabriel laughed and dropped back onto the bed. “If I wake up in a few hours, get me something light to eat.”

“Toast, got it.”

“Ugh.”

“That an ‘ugh’ to toast or…?”

Gabriel leaned over the bed to vomit into the trash bin.

“Well, that answers that question.”

[nitewrighter]

The death of Gérard lacroix

Man at first I thought I was going to write this really short and stylistic and avant-garde and then… whoops.

CW for sex and death, I guess. I wouldn’t really put this fic above a teen rating though.

——-

Angela Ziegler looked exhausted, but that was nothing new. 

“I’ve compiled my post-rescue observations with… the Blackwatch notes,” she said. Her voice tensed on ‘Blackwatch.’ She was still angry about Venice, Jack knew, still angry he and Gabe had let her go on so long not knowing Blackwatch had picked Moira up right where Overwatch had dropped her. Jack glanced over at Gabe. They had agreed that they couldn’t afford to let O’Deorain’s skillset fall into the wrong hands, and Gabriel had stated that her work was invaluable for Blackwatch operations, but her presence in Blackwatch had turned the Venice Incident into that much more of a PR nightmare for Overwatch, and that much more of an internal relations nightmare when it came to Doctor Ziegler’s feelings on the whole thing. Jack broke his line of sight away from Gabe and looked through the one-way glass at the thin dark-haired woman sitting a bit nervously on an examination table. Gérard LaCroix was standing next to her, smoothing her hair, saying soft words to her in french. She was here, at least, she was alive. Jack had to admit this felt like Overwatch’s first win in a while. 

“It’s all clear,” said Mercy, “No toxins, normal nerve responses, some residual traces of sedatives in her bloodwork which line up with her experiences of time loss in Talon custody and Gabriel’s theory of gaslighting. Behavior is well within the normal parameters for her trauma. Obviously she’ll need continued psychological evaluation but for now, the healthiest thing we can do for her is give her time to recover.” 

“Still doesn’t feel right…” murmured Ana, “Obviously they were targeting Gérard through Amélie… but the way Gérard dogs them, you’d think they’d realize taking her would just make him work harder to take them down…”

“Talon doesn’t strike me as the most socially inclined bunch,” said Gabriel with a shrug, “So that’s your word, Doc? She can go?”

Mercy watched as Amelie lifted her hand and gently brought it up against the back of Gérard’s neck. He bowed his head slightly and put his forehead against hers. Her lips moved and a small smile tugged at their corners as Gérard took her other hand in his.

“Yes,” said Mercy, watching them, “With continued psychological evaluations, as I’ve said before.” She looked back at Amélie, “Nothing too strenuous, obviously,” she added.

“Good enough for me. In three days I want to debrief her again, see if there’s anything else she might remember from her time in Talon custody,” said Jack, “Contact our Liaison in Paris, see if we an’t post up one of our psych specialists in a Paris office for the time being.” 

“You’re the Strike Commander,” said Gabriel.

“I’ll sign the release forms then,” said Mercy.

Jack and Gabe walked off, and Mercy moved to go back to her labs after them, but then paused and looked at Ana who was still watching Gérard and Amélie through the glass.

“Is everything all right, Captain?” she asked. 

Ana didn’t respond for a few seconds at first then suddenly jerked to attention and shook her head, “Sorry, come again?”

“I said ‘Is everything all right?’” said Mercy. 

“Yes just… thinking,” said Ana.

“…You don’t want me to sign those release forms,” said Mercy.

Ana shook her head. “It’s not that. I can tell you if I went through the same thing… I’d want the same thing too. It just… feels off, is all.”

“How so?” said Mercy. 

“Talon has to have some idea of how Gérard operates at this point… and targeting the specific families of Overwatch agents is… unusual for them. They usually target high profile individuals, or have more generalized attacks. If they wanted to get Gérard off of their backs, they could have targeted me through Fareeha, and coerced me into taking him off the task force. But…” Ana put a hand to her forehead and shook her head, “I’m probably only projecting…” she looked at Gérard, “I can’t imagine the hell they’ve been through… we owe them some time to rest.”

“I agree, Captain,” said Mercy.

—

“Welcome home, Mrs. LaCroix,” Gérard said smiling as he opened the door to the apartment. Despite sleeping on the plane ride from Zurich, she still felt exhaustion deep in her muscles from everything. She stepped out of her shoes and her feet padded across the hardwood floor. 

“…Forgot how much of a mess I left this place in,” murmured Gérard, hanging his coat up. Nearly all the tables in the apartment were covered in papers, multiple tablets and data drives were strewn about as well, and there were maps on the walls covered in sticky notes and newspaper clippings and lines of yarn and photos of suspects. 

Amélie picked up a manila envelope with the Overwatch logo on it from a stack of papers. “Oh I see how it is,” she said with a smirk, waving the envelope in his direction, “You say you won’t bring your work home with you, but as soon as I’m gone, you turn this place into your second base of…” she trailed off as she looked at one of the photos on the maps on the wall, and saw it was a photo of herself getting out of a car, “…operations,” she said quietly. She stepped closer to one of the maps on the wall and looked at the newspaper clippings, “This is for me…” she said quietly, “You were looking for me.”

“Don’t tell Jack,” said Gérard, smirking and leaning against the table, “He’d tell me to go home and get some rest, and I would go home and then….” he gestured at another one of his map collages. “To be fair, I was doing it for very selfish reasons. It turns out it’s very hard to sleep without you around. So if I wanted to sleep, obviously I had to get you back.”

“Gérard,” Amélie walked over to him and ran her fingers through his hair at the side of his head, “You’ve been going gray, too…” she said softly, looking at his sideburns.

Gérard huffed a not-quite chuckle and then held her hand against his cheek, “I know. How tragically ironic that when we finally got you back, I’m too much of an old goat for you now.”

“Idiot,” she said with a smile before cupping her other hand against his cheek  and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, but gingerly at the same time, terrified of hurting her, terrified of her slipping from existence. He kissed her forehead and took in the scent of her hair.

“We have a lot of sleep to catch up on, don’t we?” she said, leaning her head against his chest.

“Yes we do,” said Gérard, smoothing her hair down her back.

—-

Overwatch’s Paris offices were a lot brighter than the Zurich headquarters. Amélie could see flowers in the window box just past the glass, and saw a mother lark feeding her chirping young.

The evaluator was a bright eyed, curly haired brunette, seated across from her in an old-fashioned but not imposing desk. “Okay Amélie—Can I call you Amélie?” 

“Yes,” said Amélie.

“Great. You can call me Elsie. So I’m going to say five words to you and you can repeat them back to me in any order.”

“Five words,” said Amélie, nodding slowly, her eyes trailed back to the birds’ nest in the window box. Four baby birds. one was still chirping, one was still screeching up to its mother for more food.

“Don’t worry, I know you can do it, this is just re-establishing your recall ability. Okay. Here goes: ‘House. Flower. Red. Bird. Doll.”

“Cause.” Amélie heard a voice in her head that wasn’t Elsie’s.

“Effect.” Amélie heard her own voice in her head but could not recall when she had said the word.

Amélie’s fingers twitched slightly and she heard a high pitched ringing in her left ear. “Flower. House. Red. Doll,” her eyes trailed back to the window. The baby was still screaming and the mother lark was tilting her head at it with glassy indifference. Did the evaluator not see? Did she not hear the cries? “…Bird.” Amélie realized she hadn’t finished, “Sorry–I remembered I just… was distracted.”

“That’s fine,” said Elsie, “That’s totally fine. We can take all the time you need. Let’s do one more set, okay? Okay, five words, repeat them back to me in any order: Boat. Dog. Costume. Family. Moon.”

“Boat. Dog. Moon.” Amélie repeated watching the bird’s nest in the window box. What was the mother bird doing? Feeding the screaming chick more? Then she saw a bald pink chewed-gum shape fall over the side of the nest, fall over the side of the window box. The mother lark had pushed the screaming chick from the nest. They were on the third floor. “Costume. Family,” said Amélie, not missing a beat this time.

“There we go! Perfect!” said Elsie, smiling.

“Perfect,” she heard another voice in her head and the high-pitched ringing returned to her ear. It was loud enough to make her wince this time.

“Are you okay? It’s okay if you’re having an attack. This is a safe space,” said Elsie, leaning forward in her chair.

“My… my ear…” said Amélie, covering her left ear.

“It’s okay. Focus on the sound of my voice, and the sound of your breathing. This is normal. Tinnitus is a more common side-effect of trauma than people realize,” said Elsie.

“Mm…” Amélie gave a weak nod with her hand still over one ear. After about a minute, the high-pitched noise passed and Amélie sighed with relief and leaned back in her chair.

“Better?” said Elsie.

“Better,” said Amélie.

“So, your pre-evaluation notes said you were also getting nightmares, which, again, normal. Now, I’d be happy to prescribe you some medications to help you sleep better, however, since the source of your nightmares is an ongoing investigation from Overwatch, I’m obligated to ask if you remember anything more from your time in Talon custody. This information could help Overwatch significantly.

“I’ll do it. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be perfect,” Amélie remembered her own voice.

“We know you’ll be,” she remembered another voice. 

Amélie opened her mouth, “No,” she said, “I’m… I’m sorry. I wish I could help more.”

“That’s fine,” said Elsie, smiling, “I think right now the best way you can help is focusing on getting better–and we’ll be there to help every step of the way. That sound like a good plan?”

Amélie nodded.

The rest of the evaluation was tedious. Questions she could not answer and an MRI scan she knew would turn up nothing. Elsie was insufferably supportive and warm through the whole thing. Amélie was happy to step out of the Paris offices of Overwatch, but then her eyes trailed down to a line of ants across the sidewalk. She scanned across the line of ants and saw them swarming over a pink shape—too large to be a wad of gum–no… it wasn’t gum. She knew what it was. She walked off.

—-

A week and a half. Another tedious psychological evaluation. Poor Gérard stretched thin between doting on her and tracking down Talon more obsessively than ever. A letter from the ballet conservatory, expressing its immense relief at her safe return and noting that she had a large window of time to rejoin them before the next theatrical season, nights made swift and dreamless by the pills Elsie gave her. The first week she felt as if she were in some sort of cocoon, sleeping, doing what she could to distance herself from what she couldn’t even remember back with Talon. The second week felt like a groggy morning, the light of her old life seeping back into it. She needed to dance again. She knew she had to. 

The calendar marked two weeks since her rescue, and she found herself in the bathroom, staring at the two little pills in her hand. She looked at herself up in the bathroom mirror and then heard sighing grunt. In the reflection of the bathroom Mirror, she could see Gérard taking his shirt off in their bedroom. She watched the way his muscles shifted across his back, the way his scars from the Rome explosion danced on the sides of his ribs as he tried to stretch the aches of the day away. She looked at her husband, then down at her pills, then slipped the pills back into their jar with a slight smile and closed it. She didn’t want to knock herself out. Not yet. She slipped out of the bathroom and slid her arms around Gérard’s waist, kissing his shoulder.

“Hello,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. She grinned, then slipped under his arm so that she was in front of him, then pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, kissing him as his arms wrapped around her.

“Amélie–Amélie—” he started between kisses and she broke away to let him speak, “Are you all right?” he said, his thumb stroking the bottom of her ribcage.

“Ugh Gérard, I’m fine,” she said with an eye-roll.

 “I…” he tucked some of her hair back, “I know you want to put what happened behind you… behind both of us, but you don’t need to push yourself, you can take your time.”

“I feel like a glass doll ever since I got back… All this fussing, all these evaluations…” said Amélie, glancing off, “I just… I want to be your Amélie again.”

Gérard smiled up at her, then gently put a hand on the side of her face to turn her to look back at him. He stared into her eyes. “You are,” he said, “And you will always be, my Amélie.” 

He embraced her and they kissed and rolled back on the mattress then. They made love for hours and fell asleep in each other’s arms. She loved him. He loved her. She was Amélie. She was his Amélie.

And then she woke up. 

And then she wasn’t.

There were no night terrors tonight. Just a high-pitched ringing that woke her up. She glanced over at Gérard, happily, comfortably sprawled across the bed. The ringing in her ears was deafening.

“I’ll be perfect.”

“We know you’ll be.”

She walked through the dark of their room into the bathroom, opened a drawer and pulled out Gérard’s straight razor. She remembered the dead baby bird with the ants swarming over it on the sidewalk. She remembered long drives through hills and down poplar-lined roads. She remembered a hand clasped in hers. The ringing in hear ears drowned out everything. Drowned out every image. She remembered a gun in her hand and its barrel pressed against the black-bagged head of a stranger and even that faded to the din of the ringing. 

“I’ll be perfect.”

She set the razor against Gérard’s throat.

“I’ll be perfect.”

She drew the razor swift and deep across his neck. He always kept it sharpened so diligently… he barely felt it. His eyes opened as he was bleeding out and he looked at her face. He didn’t even fully comprehend what was happening. The mattress was red beneath him already, the blood spilling out on either side of his neck and soaking into the pillows looked almost like red wings. She didn’t flinch away from his body as the blood saturating the mattress stained her knees. She bent and kissed him on the lips before walking out onto her apartment’s fire escape, still naked, still holding his straight razor in one hand. She ascended the fire escape to the roof of the apartment, not even shivering in the night wind. She stared up at the sky and watched as a Talon transport descended from the light-pollution-orange fog overhead. It turned as it descended, opening its bay doors to her which touched against the gravel of her roof. She stepped up into the transport and the door closed behind her as it lifted off into the sky. She watched the lights of Paris shrinking away beneath her.

“I’ll be perfect.”

“We know you’ll be.” 

[fanforthefics]

HI! ITS MEEEEE!!!! Maybe a kiss in danger? Or a kiss out of jealousy? Any paring? (PS: I’m only halfway through the build a bear fic — bc I’m trying to be slow and savor it but it’s not working well bc OMG!! — But OMG!!! I AM IN LOVE!!!! The fake kid!! The unicorn!!! AHHHHH!!!!!

a kiss out of jealousy 

“Are you dating Willy?” 

Tyson looks at Gabe, then blinks. His jaw sets. Gabe’s jaw sets right back. This was the third time in a row that Tyson and Willy had talked about hanging out this week, and at least was at a time when Nate was with Gabe, and so Gabe figured they’d been alone. Then today, Tyson had just walked into the locker room with Willy, both of them laughing, and Tyson had looked up at Willy like he was hysterical and overwhelming and did that…thing he did when he was being charmingly ridiculous and Willy had rolled his eyes but grinned fondly, and–Gabe has a good reason to ask, is what he’s saying. Tyson’s supposed to look at Gabe like that. 

“What?” Tyson demands. 

“Are you dating Colin Wilson?” Gabe repeats. He thinks his voice is even, too. It’s–he’s captain. He’s supposed to know about any potential dynamic shifts in the room. 

Tyson’s eyes narrow. He glances around the room, but it’s empty–Gabe had been sure to grab him when no one else was around. Or, well. He’d been sure to grab Tyson and tell him to stick around, because Gabe had been distracted all practice and that wasn’t okay. He’d looked like an idiot. He wasn’t going to do that again. And Willy had been on fire, which was just unfair. 

“Seriously, Gabe?” 

“Seriously.” 

Tyson huffs out a breath. “Are you asking as my friend, or as my captain?” 

Gabe huffs out his own breath. Why is Tyson making this so difficult? “Does it matter?” 

“Yes,” Tyson says back, in that way he gets when he’s dead set on something. Like, hockey-serious Tyson, not off-ice-serious Tyson.  

Gabe does some quick mental math. As captain, Tyson has to tell him. As captain, it’s not weird for him to demand to know about whether two of his teammates are dating. As a friend–as a friend, Gabe will have to maybe confront why his stomach started clenching when he first got this idea into his head and it hasn’t stopped, and he doesn’t want to do that. 

“As your captain,” he decides. 

“Then it’s none of your business unless it affects my play,” Tyson snaps back, fast enough that he’d clearly set Gabe up. Gabe scowls. That’s not a bad point. That’s the point he’d make, if anyone were asking him about maybe dating a teammate. Not that he’s thought about it. 

“Fine, as your friend,” he snaps back. “Are you?” 

“As my friend, fuck off,” Tyson retorts. His eyebrows are drawn together–he looks really mad now. Or maybe hurt, which is way worse. Gabe always ends up doing ridiculous things when Tyson looks hurt. “What the hell, Landy?” 

“Yeah, what the hell, Landy?” Nate echoes, ducking his head into the locker room. His eyebrows go up, probably at the tension in the room. “Everything okay here?” 

“Yeah, Landy was just interrogating me on my current romantic situation,” Tyson tells him. He’s still eying Gabe with that same look, his eyes somehow both flinty and pathetic at once. Gabe steels himself against the urge to go, like, take him home and set him up with Zoey and cartoons and feed him chocolate until he feels better. He’s right, dammit. 

“Yeah, that tracks,” Nate agrees. 

“Yeah. About how he thinks I’m dating Willy.” Nate’s jaw drops. Tyson’s still glaring. “Which I told him was none of his beeswax. So buzz off.” He picks up his bag, and gives Gabe one final look before he leaves. 

“Willy?” Nate asks, still looking at Gabe in confusion but also maybe like he’s laughing at him. “Really? Out of all the guys on the team–Willy? Not me?” 

“Tyson’s not dating you,” Gabe informs him. He’s sure of that. It maybe took him a little while, because in his defense Tyson called Nate ridiculous nicknames that could be petnames a lot and they seemed to be joined at the hip, but Gabe was over his jealousy of Nate. Nate and Tyson’s bond was just different than the one he had with Gabe. Gabe was okay with that. “Is he dating Willy?”

Nate snorts. “If Tyson didn’t say anything, I’m not going to.” He’s definitely3 on the edge of cracking up. 

“You’re my A,” Gabe complains. It’s not a whine. Nate’s eyebrows go up. 

“Bro,” he says, and he’s more serious now. “Are you using your position as captain to get me to betray Tyson’s trust?” But that way, Gabe can admit, it sounds bad. He sighs. 

“No.” He’s not. He’s really not. He just–wants to know. 

“Good.” Nate smacks him on the shoulder. Gabe will never admit it, but it hurts. “I’m rooting for you, Landy. But not if you do something fucked up like that.”  

“I won’t,” Gabe promises, then– “Wait, why are you rooting for me? Am I competing? He is dating Willy!” 

Nate blinks. Somehow, despite the fact that they look nothing alike, it looks uncannily like how Tyson blinked earlier. It reminds Gabe of dogs and their owners. “Bro,” he says, deeply and with feeling, and follows Tyson out. 

“No, wait!” Gabe demands, following him. “Nate!” 

Fine, Gabe decides. If Tyson won’t just tell him, as a friend, he’ll have to investigate on his own. 

He does this by watching them at the bar the team goes to, after a game. They’re at a table with a bunch of people, so it’s not like Gabe’s spying on them in an intimate moment or anything. He’s just–looking. 

They’re sitting across the table from each other, is Gabe’s first observation. He can’t see under the table, though, so he can’t really be sure they aren’t playing footsie or anything. Footsie is a dangerous game at a table with too many hockey players for leg room, Gabe knows from unfortunate experience, but he’d guess that wouldn’t stop Tyson. It doesn’t look like they’re paying each other more attention than they normally would–Willy’s chatting with Barbs and Sam; Tyson with EJ and Kerfy–but Gabe doesn’t remember anymore. And maybe they’re conspicuously not paying each other attention. In fact, that’s a suspiciously little amount of attention to be paying Tyson. And Tyson’s looking good tonight, all of his summer muscle still clear on his frame, his smile somehow especially inviting. Gabe’s actually a little annoyed at Colin for this. He should be paying Tyson attention. Gabe should probably give him a talking to, just to make sure he’s treating Tyson right. 

Tyson looks away from EJ, and then his eyes lock with Gabe. Gabe doesn’t look away, on the theory that if he doesn’t Tyson might not notice he was staring. 

Tyson rolls his eyes, then gestures with his empty drink, makes a face. Gabe rolls his eyes back, mouths drunk, but he turns to the bar to order Tyson a drink. 

He takes it and his beer back to the booth, then shoves at Tyson’s side until he moves over enough to make room next to him. There isn’t, strictly speaking, enough space for all of them in the booth, so Gabe can both know what Tyson’s thigh feels like pressed up against his leg and also that Tyson’s feet are not across the table. 

“Here,” he says, pushing over the margarita to Tyson. “Have your smoothie.” 

“And a delicious smoothie it is,” Tyson agrees, grinning at Gabe around the straw as he takes a sip. Gabe smiles back reflexively. Tyson’s apparently forgiven him from yesterday. “If you got off your high horse, you could also partake in the joys of fruity drinks.” 

“I don’t think I could take all that sugar.” 

“What, Gabe, you don’t like sweet things?” Tyson tosses back. “I’d say you were too sweet already, but we all know that’s not true. You’re mean.” 

“I’m not mean,” Gabe protests. Then, at the comments that come in all around, “I’m only mean when I should be, then.” He smirks at Tyson. “Sometimes it’s fun.” 

Tyson’s cheeks go red, and he takes another sip of his margarita, muttering something under his breath. Then he resurfaces, still flushed and half-glaring at Gabe. “Whatever, I get to have like infinite dessert, and you all are just drinking bread.” 

“That’s not necessarily true,” Willy puts in. Tyson looks over at him. Gabe doesn’t growl, or anything, but it’s maybe a beer away. “Beers are carbs, but actually the yeast is–” 

“Boo!” Comphy cuts him off. “Don’t ruin beer by making it healthy.” 

“Yeah, next thing you know you’ll be telling me there are kale margaritas,” Tyson adds. Willy rolls his eyes, but he smiles at Tyson. 

“I mean, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t–” 

“Nope,” Tyson interrupts, and puts his drink down to slaps his hands over his ears. “No, I’m not hearing this, hmmmmm.” 

Gabe rescues the drink from falling off the side of the table, and smirks at Willy. “Yeah, Willy. Stop terrorizing Tyson with tales of healthy food.” 

“Hey!” Tyson turns to Gabe now, flushed and intent. Yes. Good. That’s where his attention belongs–bickering with Gabe, “I eat healthy food. I keep my diet plan.” 

Gabe raises a skeptical eyebrow. He’s seen how enthusiastically Tyson breaks his diet plan. He’s maybe encouraged it more than once, more than he should–Tyson’s mental health is more important, he’s always rationalized. And when he comes over and Gabe gives him his favorite ice cream, or proposes a Dairy Queen trip, or gives him candy–Tyson will smile at Gabe like Gabe’s important, like he’s the only person in the world, like they’re going where Gabe thinks they are. Like Gabe could make Tyson happy, for real. 

But still. Tyson definitely breaks his diet plan. “Okay, well, I’m sorry some of us have a sweet tooth,” Tyson sputters, his cheeks going red. “Anyway, it has advantages.” 

“Like?” 

“Chocolate makes you happy, didn’t you know?” Tyson tells him. “Which explains why you’re always so grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy!” Gabe protests. This time it’s Tyson’s turn to raise an eyebrow, and fine. Maybe Gabe’s been a little grumpy lately. But only lately. “Not usually,” he mutters, amending. 

“It’s okay,” Tyson reaches out to pat Gabe’s hand, apparently condescending, except Tyson’s touch has never felt simply anything. “We all accept you for who you are. Even when you’re being moody and ridiculous.” 

Gabe smiles back, because he knows it irritates Tyson, and also because he’s just–amused and happy. “And we accept you for who you are. Even when you’re drinking smoothies pretending to be alcohol.” 

“I accept neither of you,” Comphy mutters, and shoves his way out past Willy. Willy, who is watching them, something amused in his face. Or maybe wary? Willy’s generally a pretty good natured guy, it’s hard to tell. Gabe doesn’t know what that means. Gabe’s, like. Not being particularly subtle about flirting with Tyson right now. 

“Well,” Tyson retorts. “Maybe I’m just being considerate. I’ve never heard any complaints from anyone I’ve hooked up with.” 

Gabe chokes on his beer. EJ actually cackles. Willy snorts. Gabe ducks his head, so that he doesn’t have to look at Tyson, who’s flushing but looking pleased with himself at the reaction that got. Fuck, now he’s thinking about it–about getting on his knees for Tyson, about taking Tyson apart with his hands and mouth, Tyson’s hand in his hair–he’d be loud, because it’s Tyson, he’d probably tell Gabe just how good it felt–

Gabe shifts in his seat, his pants feeling a little tight. But he has an image to maintain, so, “Yeah?” he replies. “Neither have I, and I don’t drink vodka smoothies.” 

Now it’s Tyson’s turn to make a noise that isn’t exactly dignified. EJ is still cackling. Gabe would flip him off, but he can’t look away from Tyson. “You wouldn’t,” Tyson shoots back. Gabe can feel how his thigh is bouncing, though. “You’re all–you. No one’s going to complain about hooking up with you. Some of us have to make sure our jizz tastes good, okay?” 

EJ’s started to howl. Gabe’s a little worried about him, actually. Not worried enough to make sure he’s breathing, but still. “Some of us have the skills to make sure no one notices,” Gabe retorts. This whole conversation has gotten away from him a little, but it’s Gabe and Tyson doing their Gabe and Tyson thing, so he’s okay with it. Even if he’s going to need to do some serious thinking about unsexy things soon. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.” 

“I have skills!” Tyson protests, because he is at the heart predictible and as much a competitive asshole as the rest of them. “That’s not–oh, fuck off,” he tells EJ, who’s basically just collapsed into Willy by now. 

“No, this is–fuck, you guys are amazing,” EJ tells them. “I should have recorded it.” 

“No you shouldn’t have,” Gabe informs him. Tyson hasn’t moved away from him, still. “Or I’ll…” He trails off, but EJ can extrapolate the threat from there. 

EJ scowls at him. “I’m staging a rebellion.” 

“Okay,” Gabe replies, because EJ threatens that about once a week. In the mean time, Tyson’s gone back to paying attention to his drink. Gabe glances at Willy, across the table, who looks like he’s still laughing at Gabe. Fuck him. Him and his–date things that he and Tyson apparently do, where they hang out and eat dinner and listen to music. Gabe could do that. 

“Hey, Brutes.” He nudges Tyson with his hip. “Have you listened to anything good recently?” 

Tyson gives him a suspicious look. The flush on his face hasn’t gone down since their last conversation. “You think my music taste is garbage.” 

“I don’t!” Gabe protests, even though, well. He kind of does. 

“You said, and I quote, that my music sounds like garbage being put through a trash disposal.” 

“No, I said that about Nate’s music,” Gabe corrects. That one he remembers. “Nate’s music is garbage.” 

“Hey, to each their own,” Tyson warns. “I mean, Mac’s music is questionable, but no throwing stones in houses made of ABBA, eh?” 

“ABBA is–” 

“Or Backstreet boys,” Tyson keeps going. “I have video of you doing the choreo and I’m not afraid to use it.” 

“Knowing the choreography to a classic is nothing to be ashamed of.” Gabe tosses his hair back. He stands by that. 

“Okay, whatever you say.” Tyson rolls his eyes, but he’s clearly laughing. Then–”Actually, Willy. I was on spotify and I heard something you’d like, here.”

“Oh, who’s it by?” Willy leans over the table to look at Tyson’s phone. He grabs at Tyson’s hand so he can angle it so he can see. 

Gabe glares at the place where they’re touching. “I’m getting another drink,” he announces. 

“Bye, Landy,” Willy tells him. Evenly. Tyson doesn’t say anything. 

Gabe sulks over to the bar, where he does order another beer because it gives him something to do. He can’t help looking back at the table, where Tyson and Willy are still looking at Tyson’s phone. 

What does Willy have that he doesn’t have, anyway? He’s big and blonde and hot, sure, but so is Gabe. Gabe’s just as good as he is at hockey–Gabe’s got the C, dammit. And, well. Maybe Willy’s older, he’s got that air of–maturity, maybe, but Gabe can be mature. He can be totally mature. 

Like Gabe could learn to like Tyson’s music, if he tried. He would try. Or, well. He’d pretend to, at least. Just because he didn’t have that in common with Tyson, it didn’t matter. They were still–they could still be what Gabe had thought they were making their way towards, slowly but surely, for all those years of not saying anything. Willy didn’t get to get in between that, just because he had that calming voice and did yoga, or whatever. Gabe could do yoga. He’d look great in yoga pants.   

Maybe Gabe’s drunker than he thought, or maybe the jealousy is getting him drunk, because he spins a little, as he shoves away from the bar to go to the bathroom. At least there he won’t have to see them. 

When he’s done, he steps out into the hallway, leans his head back against the wall. He does, actually, know this is ridiculous. He’s out with friends. He could go hang out with any of them. He shouldn’t be so–it’s all so–

“Captain Grumpy, for sure.” Tyson says, coming out of the bathroom. He kicks at Gabe’s shin. “Come on. We won! Be happy.”  

“I am,” Gabe says. It doesn’t come out sounding very convincing. He just. Tyson’s going to go run off with Willy and live in their kale-filled yurt, or whatever, and Gabe’s not going to get any more of Tyson. 

“Oh my god.” Tyson rolls his eyes. “Come on. Let’s go play some pool, eh? You always feel better when you’re beating Josty at pool.” 

“I do,” Gabe admits. He does. And of course Tyson knows that. 

“Good, let’s go.” Tyson steps past Gabe–then Gabe reaches out, grabs his wrist. Tyson freezes. “Gabe?” 

Maybe Gabe is drunker than he thought. Maybe he can sort of see Willy, right in the sliver of space in the main barroom the hall shows, and Gabe cannot handle Tyson going out there to get wooed away. Maybe Tyson’s just looking up at him with his big eyes and something like confusion and a dare in his eyes, and his lips are full and a little stained with whatever he’s been drinking, and the shadows are playing over his cheekbones, the places where his curls sit on his forehead, and he’s looking at Gabe like Gabe’s the only person in the world. 

“Gabe?” Tyson says again, like it’s caught in his throat, and Gabe tugs on his wrist. Tyson comes, easy for once. “Gabe?” Tyson says a third time, higher pitched, as Gabe lets his hand rest on Tyson’s shoulder. His thumb brushes over the bare skin at Tyson’s neck, and Gabe can feel it, the sparks that are always there. He can see Tyson shiver. 

It’s the shiver that does him in. He tugs Tyson that final bit closer, then leans down to kiss him. 

For a second, it’s everything Gabe had wanted, had thought about maybe more than he should have–the soft noise Tyson makes into his mouth, Tyson’s body pressed to his, Tyson’s lips–and then Tyson’s shoving him away. 

Gabe stumbles back, surprised. He hadn’t–they’ve been waiting for this for years. He was sure Tyson wanted this. This much, the sex stuff, at least. 

“You asshole,” Tyson snaps, and he’s flushed and not in a good way now; in the way he gets when someone’s been mean to Nate or one of the rookies. “You’re doing this now? Seriously?” 

“I–” 

“Fuck off,” Tyson tells him, and there’s anger and Gabe can see the hurt behind it too, which is still so much worse. “Just–drink some water and fuck off, Landy.” 

“Wait, Tys–” But Tyson’s pulled away from him. By the time Gabe takes a deep breath and goes after him, he can’t see Tyson anywhere. 

He can also see Nate, glaring daggers at him from the bar, so that’s a no go. 

“He went outside.” Gabe jumps when Willy comes up next to him. Willy’s eyebrows are raised. He does not look impressed. Well, fuck him. “If you want to go apologize, say.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion. 

“I was going to,” Gabe mutters. He’s not an idiot. Not even if this makes him feel like one. Willy’s only three years older than him, he doesn’t get to be all–like that. 

“Good. Go.” 

Gabe is tempted not to move, just to be a dick, but he also does want to go chase down Tyson, and in the end, that wins out. He goes. He’s going to go win back or maybe over Tyson, and that’ll be enough. 

He finds Tyson leaning against a wall where smokers might be, if it was more than 45 degrees. His eyes are half closed, his head tipped back. 

“Tys–” Gabe starts. 

“Go away.” 

“No.” Gabe crosses his arms. “I’m sorry. I thought you–that we–that you would be okay with that. If you didn’t want that–” 

“Of course I fucking wanted it!” Tyson’s eyes are open now, and he’s glaring at Gabe again. It’s still better than that hurt. “I’ve wanted it for years, you know that.” Gabe doesn’t deny it, but it settles something in him, something that had been raw and drawn without hearing those words. “But you finally do it now?” 

“What’s wrong with now?” Gabe protests. Sure, it’s not the most romantic setting, but he can do that later. 

“What’s wrong with now is that you just kissed me because you’re jealous of Willy.” Tyson throws his hands up. “I have been waiting for you to make a move for three fucking years, and now it’s tainted because you’re a jealous dick.” 

“It wasn’t just because–” 

“Yes it was!” It’s louder than it should be; Tyson takes a breath and lowers his voice. “You’re not subtle at all, Gabe. You were trying to like, lay claim. Because of Willy, who I am not dating, or interested in dating, or is interested in dating me, and is your fucking friend too and who you’re being a dick to!” 

“I–” 

But Tyson’s on a roll now. “And you don’t get to do that. I don’t care what we are, you don’t get to get mad at who I am hanging out with or talking to or doing anything, because I am not your anything, I am–” 

“Your own person, I know.” Gabe interrupts, because it’s the only way he’s getting a word in. Tyson’s mouth clicks closed, but he’s still breathing heavily. “I know that and I’m sorry, okay?” He is, he finds. He is. He knows. “I just–it felt like I was losing my chance, because I hadn’t said anything.” 

“Then you say something, like a normal person,” Tyson points out. “You don’t–start a investigation to figure out who I’m dating and then try to lay your claim all over me.” 

It’s a fair point, maybe. “You like me even though I”m not like a normal person, though,” Gabe says. Because he thinks that’s true. “Or maybe because.” 

Tyson’s lips quirk up, a little. “Ugh. I do,” he admits. Tyson never was good at staying angry long. 

But then the smile fades. “But you can’t do this shit,” He goes on. His back is hunching against the wall again. “If you’re going to be like this any time I have a friend–and you know how I am, sometimes. That’s not going to change. If you can’t handle it–” 

“I know. It shouldn’t. I don’t want you to change,” Gabe assures him, the words almost getting mixed up with how fast he’s trying to get them out. He doesn’t want Tyson to change. He loves Tyson for all his ridiculous, flirtatious, ways. “I just–it was just because I didn’t know.” He takes a breath. “It’s–Colin’s got a lot of the same pros I do, and he’s older and steady and he likes a lot of the same stuff you do–” 

“Yeah, let’s just find an internet source so you can see how little I care about that,” Tyson cuts him off, but he’s definitely smiling again. “And we like a lot of the same stuff. And who wants older and steadier? That sounds boring.” 

Gabe smiles back at him, hopeful. Tyson’s definitely relaxing now. “We’ve already established I’m not boring.” 

“Oh, you are, but in different, mainly sartorial ways.”

“You like how my clothes look on me.” Gabe takes a step forward, because he doesn’t think he’ll get punched now. Tyson’s head tips back so he can keep looking at him. 

“Everyone likes how your clothes look on you, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t wear a shirt that isn’t a neutral once in a while.” 

“Like you’d know?” 

“I have a very sophisticated wardrobe, Gabriel,” Tyson retorts, and he’s definitely laughing now. Gabe wants to taste it. Wants to taste all of Tyson’s moods, because he can now, because he knows he can and they can finally do this. 

Gabe takes another step closer–and Tyson puts up a hand. “No,” Tyson says. Gabe freezes. He’d thought– “No, I am not rewarding bad behavior. We need a do-over first kiss, when you’re doing it for the right reasons.” 

“I’d be kissing you for the right reasons now,” Gabe points out, looking very obviously at Tyson’s mouth. “You said some things about your smoothies I want to test the truth of.”

Tyson flushes red right down his neck, but shakes his head. “No. No,” he repeats, more firmly. “You were a dick and you don’t get rewarded for that. We’re going inside.” 

“Tyson–” 

“Inside,” Tyson says, and Gabe sighs, but he lets Tyson pull him inside. He even buys Willy a drink, though Willy’s smirking at him like he knows exactly what’s been happening. Gabe’s not exactly pleased with that. But Tyson keeps stealing looks at him all night and then touching his lips, and Gabe had definitely seen Tyson and Nate fist bump earlier and Nate’s stopped glaring at Gabe, so Gabe can handle some smirking from Willy. He got the real prize. 

“You’re coming with me, captain’s orders,” Gabe announces, grabbing Tyson’s wrist as soon as they’re off the ice and basically changed. Tyson’s grinning, still excited from his last second game-winner; he’s brilliant and joking with the guys and Gabe wants to keep him like this forever. And it’s been a full week. If Gabe doesn’t get to kiss him now, he’s–going to sulk very hard, probably. 

“Am I?” Tyson asks, but he’s laughing as Gabe tugs him down a hallway where no one really goes. “Are you going to murder me? Because this looks murdery, Landy, I”m not going to–” 

Gabe cuts him off by pushing him against the wall, then turning to pin him in. Tyson doesn’t look very put off by it. “Does this count as a good reason?” he demands. 

Tyson grins up at him. Maybe he was right–Gabe still thinks they wasted a week, but maybe this is a better first kiss, all joy and no anger or bitterness or alcohol. Just Gabe and Tyson.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Tyson agrees, and then he’s tugging Gabe in himself, and Gabe forget there’s anyone else in the world. 

[sunnytilmae]

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY SNAKE!OWNER JACK AND PHOTOGRAPHER!GABE AU because god knows this mess of a drabble is all I’ll ever got to.

---

Jack and Gabe are in a new relationship, and his snakes never come up because he’s not like hoarding them or anything, he just has a few. His two cats do come up because Gabe loves cats.

The second or third time Gabe comes over, Jack says, “I gotta feed my pets. Do you want to watch?”

 And Gabe is like, sure, weird way to put it, but he’s game to watch some feline dine. And then Jack leads them to A Closed Room, and Gabe is now thinking, weird place to keep cat food when I saw bowls in your kitchen, but ok.

Their initial conversation upon entering: “Jack, these are tanks. Jack what’s in all these tanks.” “Snakes.” “Oh.” “Did I not mention them?” “No.” 

He’s not phobic, just the appropriate amount of fear for someone who’s never been knowingly three feet from a snake. That’s what he tells himself.

Gabe tries to act cool about it, keep his cover. Cool guy Gabe. 

There are probably eight or so enclosures. A giant tank close to the door frame against the wall. Two columns of three stacked high with an acrylic sliding door front, sturdy black wood panels cradling them. The corner is overtaken by an enclosure with three windows.

If he weren’t caught off guard, his Artist eye would be delighted. Each tank is decorated with obvious love, to the point he can’t see what’s slithering in most even with the tasteful lighting.

But instead he’s trying to figure out why his boyfriend(?) had a small zoo he never mentioned. Big ones, if the size of their homes could be trusted.

But Jack’s nice, really nice, and funny, and cute, and when Gabe manages a blush out of him, it’s like he’s covered in pink velvet. So he inhales and walks inside.

 “Snakes? That’s pretty hot, I’ve always admired–” and while he’s trying to casually look at one snake , it strikes the glass. He does jump back, but unlike what Jack would tell others later, does Not squeak.  

Jack's laughing now, not meanly.

“That’s Venom, she’s a rescue from a twelve year old that convinced his parents he could handle a pet, even let him pick one. Rarely handled and grew too big so she’s a bit of a meanie. Do you want to hold her?” It glares at him, hood flaring. (It's a false water snake he learns later)

And Gabe is caught between his lie and the fear paralyzing him. 

“I’m kidding! C’mon, I’ll wrangle Miley and Coco, and you can hang out in the living room while I do this.” It’s obvious he’s being genuine, trying to usher Gabe out of the room. “I only need to drop a pinkie in for a couple of them.”

But Gabe’s definitely embarrassed, and he’s thinking of anything to get his cred back so he ends up blurting out, “I want to hold a snake.”

Jack looks dubious. “It’s fine if you’re scared of snakes, I don’t mind.”

Scared? Gabe? He’s scaled canyons, got this close to a tornado, gotten mauled by a hoard of women when the bouquet came his way, all for the sake of a photo. 

“No, actually, I mind. Let me hold a snake. Please.”

And Jack rolls his eyes, raising his hands in faux surrender. “Alright, I’ve got a fun one then. He’ll love the fear right out of you.”

And he opens the uncontested biggest enclosure in the room. Gabe wants to faint, but this is a matter of pride. He starts pulling out this sausage of a snake. He keeps pulling it out like some goddamn magic trick.

“You like Britney right?”

He’s speechless. Jack is standing across the room, draped by the behemoth burmese python. Jack is not a small man.

 “His name is Soldier, one of my very firsts and he’s almost 20 years old. Absolute sweetheart. He’ll just sit in your arms, and that’s it.”

He’s waiting for Gabe to come across the room which is a trial in itself.

He lets Gabe start off by petting Soldier. Internally, Gabe is screaming, externally he’s just nodding like wow what a cool day. Love new experiences.

By the end, he’s got the second half of the snake in his arms and even though he refuses to take the head part, he’s pretty proud of himself.

Later, Gabe starts taking pics of the snakes in his journey of not being scared of them and his instagram followers love them. They also adore this new buff blond man handling them. He even surprises Jack with a new snake on their second anniversary, a Mexican Black kingsnake. (and yes, it’s Excellent in three different ways)

---

that’s also what he calls his d*ck. sorry. anyway. i actually have like a ton of ideas of this au but if i ever write them, eh that'll be the day

[revwinchester]

Loki and Sigyn

Summary: Sam and Gabriel get into an argument about cats vs. dogs and things spiral out of control.

Pairing: Sam x Gabriel

Warnings: couple of curse words, panic attack (ish), John Winchester’s A+ parenting, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 1954

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble request from a list I was taking ideas from about a week ago (requests are now closed) and it turned into something more.  When I set out, I was aiming for 400-500 words of fluff but then Sam had his own ideas.  This got way longer and much more angsty than I anticipated but it all comes back around with a happy ending.  Special thanks to my beta for helping me avoid an even angstier fic and keeping me from going down rabbit holes I was not prepared to deal with.

@idabbleincrazy here’s your not a drabble!

I also used the dialogue prompt for this month’s @gabriel-monthly-challenge and let one of the aesthetic prompts vaguely inform some of Gabriel’s backstory.

Loki & Sigyn -

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Shurley, congratulations.  You are now homeowners.”

Sam and Gabriel had just finished signing the paperwork to buy their first home.  They were really doing it, really starting their lives together.  The pair had started dating in college and, after supporting each other through law school, culinary school, and living in a series of shitty apartments to do it, they were both finally working in their chosen fields and ready to upgrade their living arrangements.  

Their new three bedroom home was perfect.  Sam could turn one of the bedrooms into his home office and they’d still have a spare room for when one of their siblings visited.  Gabriel’s happy place was going to be the large, updated kitchen.

A few hours later, Sam and Gabriel were standing outside as their movers brought the last of their major furniture pieces into the house.  They didn’t have a lot, considering they had come from a one bedroom apartment, but it would do for now.  To save a little money, their boxes were all loaded up into a U-Haul.  Each carrying a box, they stepped into their new home, both inhaling deeply as they took in what was theirs.  

“Gotta love that new house smell,” Gabriel smirked at the same time Sam breathed “I want a dog.”

“What?” Gabriel asked, sure he had heard the man wrong.

“I want a dog,” Sam repeated, louder this time.

“I want a cat…” Gabriel said in response.  How had they never talked about this before, he wondered.  Sure, none of their landlords had allowed pets in their apartments but something as simple as cats vs. dogs should have come up.  

Sam laughed at Gabriel’s reply, clearly not taking him seriously.  “No way, you’re obviously a dog person,” he laughed and Gabriel bristled at the notion.  

“Dogs are needy; cats are self sufficient.  Give them food, clean their litter, and they’re generally happy to be ignored,” Gabriel said, dismissing Sam’s surprise.  “I don’t need some goofy slobber monster running around the house and sticking his nose in my work trying to steal a bite.  I’ve already got you for that.”

Gabriel looked up at Sam, expecting to see him at least looking a little scandalized at his words but his boyfriend’s face was completely blank.  Gabriel could see that his jaw was clenched and the far away look in his eyes had him a little worried.  “Look, Sam, I didn’t mean…”

Sam shook himself out of whatever was happening in his head.  “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “I’m gonna go unpack our bedroom.  You should probably get to work setting up the kitchen how you want it.”  Sam leaned down, gave Gabriel a quick, chaste kiss, and disappeared up the stairs.

“Well, that got heavy,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.  He moved a couple of boxes into the kitchen and then pulled out his phone.  

“Hey, Dean,” Gabriel said in reply when the man on the other end picked up.  “I just had a really weird conversation with Sam and things didn’t end well.  Care to shed some light on this?”  Gabriel paused while Dean, as expected, threatened to hurt him if he had hurt his brother.  “No, dumbass.  He’s fine, we’ll be fine.  He just… kind of shut down when I told him I didn’t want a dog.”  

After a few minutes of listening to Dean, Gabriel had the gist of what had caused Sam to close himself off.  “Ah, shit.  I didn’t know any of that… I knew your dad was kind of a nut job but that’s… yeah, that’s something else.  Thanks Dean-o, I owe you one.”  Gabriel hung up the phone and let out a long, slow breath.  Now that he knew what was at the root of all this, he just had to figure out the best way to fix it.

---

Sam set his box down and sat on it with his head in his hands.  In the back of his mind, he knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t help it.  Gabriel’s dismissal had dragged up a host of memories that he had tried so hard to repress.  

“You want that dog, now, don’t you son?”  His father’s voice rang out in Sam’s mind.  

“You want that dog, now, don’t you son?”

Sam had been asking for a dog for as long as he could remember, always hoping that his dad would say “yes” and, while dad had never said “no,” this was the closest to a positive answer that Sam had ever received and his eyes lit up.  

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, then, buck up and get the hell out there.”

Sam scampered off into the woods with nothing but the map, compass, and the hunting knife he had gotten for his birthday last year.  His ninth birthday was only a week away, maybe when he found his way back home, he would have finally done enough to earn a dog.  

---

Sam pushed that memory and the others like it out of his mind as best as he could.  “Survivalist Training” his father had called it.  Sam huffed out a humorless laugh at that as he robotically stood and unpacked the box, making the bed with near military precision using the sheets he found at the bottom of the box, before he gave up and went off in search of Gabriel.  

The kitchen was empty and everything was still in boxes so Sam paused for a minute, listening for where in the house Gabriel might have gotten to.  Everything in the house was still and quiet, though, two words Sam would never use to describe his boyfriend.  Thinking he may have gone to their U-Haul for another box, Sam went outside and his heart dropped into his stomach.  

Sam’s car was gone.  Gabriel’s SUV was still hooked up to the U-Haul they had rented but Sam’s car was no longer in the street in front of their house.  Gabriel had left.

Sam rushed back into the house and grabbed his phone.  He didn’t have any messages or missed calls so he called Gabriel.  The phone rang three times before going to voicemail. Gabriel had ignored his call.  Sam frantically sent Gabe a text message, hoping he would read it.

I’m sorry.  Please come home so we can talk about this.

Sam waited 5 minutes, then 10 and got no reply.  He put his phone back into his pocket  and went into the kitchen to unpack until he found a bottle opener.  After three boxes and no luck, Sam decided that he wanted more than beer, anyway, and filled the first cup that he found - one of Gabriel’s mugs from a restaurant they’d tried on one of their random road trips - with whiskey.  

He had never been good enough for a dog.  How had he managed to convince himself he could be good enough for Gabriel?

He pulled his phone back out and started to research.  Maybe he could convince Gabriel to stay; delay the inevitable for a while.  So, half way through his third mug of whiskey, he made a phone call with his credit card in hand.  It wasn’t a cheap call but Sam could make up the difference in a week or two at work, he figured, and it would be worth it if it made Gabriel happy.  At the very least, it would be something he could remember him by.  

Sam was pouring his fourth mug when he heard the front door open.  

“Sam?” Gabriel’s voice rang out and Sam instantly perked up.

“Gabriel?” he shouted back as he unsuccessfully scrambled to get up off of the kitchen floor.  Before Sam could try again, Gabriel was in the kitchen.  “You’re back!”  Sam tried to get up again and Gabriel helped him, trying his best to not slosh the contents of the mug all over the floor.  

“And you’re drunk,” Gabriel replied once Sam was mostly steady on his feet.  He looked at the kitchen floor around Sam, which was littered with pots, pans, and cooking utensils that would need to be washed.  “What happened in here?  I thought you were unpacking upstairs.”

“I came down to talk and you were gone… Then you didn’t answer your phone and I thought… I thought that maybe…” Sam mumbled and Gabriel knew immediately what Sam had thought.  

“I’m right here, Sam, forever and always,” Gabriel assured his boyfriend, grabbing both of Sam’s hands and starting to lead him towards the stairs.  “Let’s get you up into bed for a nap, sound good?”

“Mmmm,” Sam agreed.  “You too.  Nap together.”

Gabriel smiled down at Sam from two steps up.  “For sure, Samsquatch.  I’ll stay until you’re asleep but then I’ll need to come and put things away down here.”  He helped Sam up to their room, grateful that Sam had at least gotten sheets on the bed and that he was drunk enough to not have noticed Gabriel’s surprise waiting in their front hallway.  

----

Sam woke up feeling plenty warm.  He kicked off the blanket Gabriel must have placed over him but rolled over toward the heat that was in the bed with him.  He nuzzled into the hair he found but paused when it didn’t feel or smell like Gabriel’s.  Sam’s eyes flew open when something rough and wet ran across his forehead.

“Gabriel?” Sam called out, his voice thick with sleep as he took in his furry bedmate.

“Sam-a-lam, you’re awake!” Gabriel replied from the doorway.

“So, exactly how long have you been standing there?  Were you just watching me sleep?” Sam yawned, momentarily forgetting the extra body in their bed.

“What can I say, you’re cute when you sleep.  I hope she didn’t wake you?” Gabriel asked as he entered the room and gestured at the corgi that was cuddled up to Sam.

“She?” Sam asked before adding a more important question.  “Who does she belong to and why is she here?”

Gabriel smiled sheepishly.  “She’s ours.  I took a trip out to the shelter.”  He climbed into bed beside Sam, sandwiching the corgi between them.  “Look, about earlier.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t think about how you might hear what I was saying.  I love you, Sam Winchester.”

Sam ran a hand through Gabriel’s hair.  “I’m sorry, too.  I just… I’m sorry.”  There was a pause between the two of them but it was a comfortable silence.  “Does she have a name?”

“She was new enough to the shelter that they hadn’t given her one, yet,” Gabriel told him, “so we can call her whatever you want.”

Sam looked up at Gabriel from under his lashes and bit his lip.  “So, uh, next month we’re going to pick up Loki.  I did some research while you were out and I was…”

“Getting drunk off your ass?” Gabriel supplied.

Sam rolled his eyes but continued.  “Anyhow, I put a deposit down on a cat from a nearby breeder… a savannah cat.  I know you love Norse mythology so, I told the breeder we were going to call him Loki.  So, maybe she,” Sam gestured to the adorable ball of fur between them, “could be Sigyn.”

The dog snuggled into Sam’s chest and her tail beat against the bed, smacking Gabriel in the face with each wag.

“I think the little hellhound likes that name,” Gabriel said in reply as he tried to bat the dog’s tail away with a laugh.  Once her tail settled down, he quietly asked “You really put a deposit down on a cat?”

Sam blushed.  “Yeah, I guess I did,” he laughed as he shifted Sigyn between them so that he could lean in and kiss Gabriel.

So, this is what I imagine Sigyn looks like.  She will quickly win Gabriel over.

image credit

And this is Loki.  Savannah cats are a tall, highly intelligent, hybrid breed that can be leash trained.

image credit

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[resplendentgoldenwings]

The Adoration of Michael

Star Trek Discovery modern AU

Modern AU: Michael Burnham is used to taking care of herself, but when a handsome stranger rescues her from a heckler at a lecture it may be the start of a new chapter in her life.

Chapter 7: Thursday

rating: Mature

characters/pairings: Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca, other characters: Sylvia Tilly, Nyota Uhura

chapter summary: Michael is feeling a bit insecure in the aftermath of the coffee kerfuffle

warnings: none this chapter

Michael checked her phone. Seeing no missed calls or new text messages she sat it on her desk, laying it on its face so she'd be less tempted to look at it, and told herself to get back to work. It had been a while since she'd made a new YouTube video and she was supposed to be coming up with ideas. Her ringer was on, and there was nothing wrong with her phone; Gabriel would call when he called.

In spite of the fact that she'd gone to bed far, far later than her usual time, Michael had awoken around 9:00 a.m. to a room flooded with golden sunlight, mind fully alert. Since there was no way she was going back to sleep, she'd gotten up, showered and had a light breakfast.

She scrolled through her newsfeed looking for inspiration. Coco dozed in her lap while Snowball sat on the desk, tucked into a kitty loaf, watching her with drowsy green-gold eyes.

Gabriel was probably sleeping or busy. He hadn't left until 2:00 a.m., after all, it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet.

She managed another two minutes before checking her phone again. No missed calls, no text messages. Of course she hadn’t missed an alert, because it was right in front of her and she had the ringer on. Disgusted with herself, Michael considered turning the phone off and hiding it to put it out of her mind.

It wouldn't worry her that he hadn't called, except they hadn't made plans for a third date - fifth if you counted the lunch dates - and every other time they'd been out Gabriel had always made it clear that he wanted to see her again, soon, and tried to get her to agree to another date.

"It was late; he was probably tired." She muttered to herself. "That makes sense right?"

She directed the question at Snowball who meowed for reply.

Or he doesn't want to be bothered with a woman that won't sleep with him. He wouldn't be the first.

She looked back at her work, but the scene played out in her mind.

-"You thought I wanted to drink coffee at midnight."-

She could mediate, she should meditate-

She heard the creak of floor boards in Sylvia's room. Was her roommate up? The younger woman had come in late, but she might be up already. Michael put her computer to sleep and got up, dislodging Snowball in the process.

She made her way down the hall, savoring the warmth of sun-warmed floorboards beneath her feet. She stood outside Sylvia's door for a moment, listening for sounds of movement, before knocking gently.

"You up?"

"Yeah, come in."

Michael opened the door. The other woman's room was decorated with bright florals in lavenders and pinks, very pretty.

Sylvia was sitting up in bed reading, bright red curls cascading down her back.

"Morning."

"Good morning." Sylvia looked up from her reading, smile faltering when she saw Michael's face. "What's wrong? Come, sit down, tell me what happened."

Michael sat down next to the other woman and told Sylvia all about the coffee confusion and how they'd sat up talking until 2:00 a.m.

"Well, that doesn't sound bad."

"No, but he left without making plans. He didn't even say if he wanted to go out again. Gabe's never done that."

"But like you said, it was late, he was probably tired."

"I know, but he hasn't sent me a text message or anything."

"He's probably still asleep."

"He could be."

"Look," Sylvia said, tone firm, "If this guy drops off the face of the earth because you didn't sleep with him, he's a jerk that you don't want to be bothered with anyway."

"Easy for you to say - you're not a thirty-year-old virgin."

Sylvia snorted.

"You think I put out with everybody that I go out with more than once. I have discriminating taste."

"With your soldier fixation?"

"The point is, guys only being interested in you for sex is still a problem you'd have to deal with. Besides, I thought you didn't think being a virgin was a problem."

"Until it is a problem."

"Girl, are you saying you would have slept with him if you weren't a virgin?"

Sylvia stared at her in wonder and Michael ducked her head, not for the first time grateful for a complexion that hid her blush as blood rushed to her face.

"I might have." Michael bit her lip as she remembered the way her whole body seemed to respond when Gabriel had pressed against her, making his desire known.

"Well, why didn't you anyway?"

"It seems dishonest. I haven't told him and what if I'm bad at sex? And it hurts the first time-"

"-The first few times."

Michael grimaced.

"It would hurt, so then he'd notice, and then he'd realize I was a lying, thirty-year-old virgin and that would be humiliating."

Sylvia stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief, and then she laughed.

"You're laughing!" Michael stared at her friend in horror. "I can’t believe you're laughing."

Irritated, she got up to leave, and Sylvia stopped, swallowing back her laughter.

"Wait, wait. Don't leave," The other woman said, getting out of bed. "I'm sorry, I know you're serious, but when you do finally have sex, you'll understand why I laughed. That said, I know this is important to you and I'm sorry, really I am, and I promise I won't laugh again."

Michael eyed her friend a moment before sitting back down.

"Listen, you're thinking about this way too hard. It's sex; it's not that difficult. You're a woman, so you can get away with letting him do all the work the first few times. You don't have to tell him if you don't want to and he probably won't even notice, it's the same for them either way. But if the guy likes you -and it seems like this one does- then you should tell him because he'll want to make it as good for you as possible and he'll be gentle with you."

What Sylvia was saying made sense.

"But as to why you knocked on my door?"

"Yes?"

"I really do think you're right, he's probably just tired, but have you messaged or called him today?"

"No."

"Text him- wait, he's old, call him."

Michael frowned at the flutter of nerves the suggestion induced.

"I don't know. What would I say?"

"Hi, Gabriel, it's Michael. I just wanted to say hi." Sylvia smiled. "Just like that?"

Michael bristled a bit at Sylvia's condescending tone, but didn't torn between the fear of what she felt was an almost inevitable rejection and an intense desire for reassurance, to know that everything was OK.

"Well, you can sit here stewing in your own anxiety and self-flagellation, or you can take the initiative and call him. He's called you, scheduled all your dates so far; he'll appreciate some effort on your part."

"You're right, you're right."

"Good, tell him you were working and you're taking a break. That way you can keep the conversation short if you want."

"That's a good idea."

"Good, go call him. I need to study." Sylvia held up her tablet. "Wait, dial his number and then leave. I want to make sure you actually do it."

Michael rolled her eyes but pulled out her phone and despite her increasing nerves, forced herself to hit the call button. At the third ring she started to get that sinking feeling, but then on the fourth ring, Gabriel's warm, rich voice was in her ear.

"Well hello, gorgeous, I was just thinking about you."

Michael sagged with relief, a smile growing on her face.

"Hello yourself, handsome."

Sylvia gave her a thumbs up and a smile before shooing her from the room.

"What can I do for you?"

"I was just taking a break from work and wanted to say hi."

Chicago may have been dubbed the Windy City, because of the way its residents boasted and bragged about all it had to offer, but Michael was confident that the name stuck because it was also windy as hell. And downtown Chicago with all its skyscrapers, sculptures and tulips sat right at Lake Michigan's edge, catching the brunt of winds out of Canada blowing unfettered across the Great Lakes.

The wind, thankfully warm, pulled at her hair, tugged at the hem of her skirt and pushed her along as she walked, hurrying her and everyone else out for lunch on Michigan Avenue toward their destination.

She reached the Starbucks where she was supposed to be meeting Nyota and scanned the street. Michael was just about to text her when she spotted the other woman battling the wind as she made her way down Michigan Avenue. The wind was having its way with Nyota too, whipping the strands of her long dark hair across her face and pulling at the hem of her trendy, rose pink spring trench.

She waved to catch the linguist's attention, before starting toward her. The two women greeted each other with a hug, the wind practically pushing Nyota into her arms.

"This wind is unbelievable!" Nyota shouted over its roar. "Let's just eat in your building, it's closer."

Michael grimaced.

"I know the wind is bad, but let's go somewhere else. We don't have to cross the river." Michael could practically hear the snap of the flags over on the Michigan Avenue bridge rippling and taut in the grip of the wind and she was legitimately worried that the wind might just dump one of them in the river. Nyota was especially slender and wearing heels.

"What about at Chipotle?"

"And spend forty minutes in line?" Nyota complained.

"What about the Nordstrom's mall - at least the wind will be at our backs?"

"Alright, Nordstrom's Mall."

Arm-in-arm, the two friends made their way back up Michigan Avenue, past towering office buildings, sculptures on loan from various artists and the thousands of spring flowers decorating the sidewalks and boulevards, 60 mile per hour wind gusts at their backs.

Once inside and out of the wind, they decided to go to a familiar sushi restaurant in the food court and settled down for a quiet lunch. One of the nice things about the Nordstrom's mall was that the office workers in downtown Chicago rarely thought of it for lunch. So it was quiet and the service was quick. Soon they had a lunch of miso soup and sushi in a quiet corner booth.

"Mom says you and Spock had a fight?"

"We had a minor disagreement that has since been resolved."

"Good."

The pair talked a bit about their work. Although Nyota had the looks and grace of a model, the second generation Tanzanian-American was a linguist currently overseeing the translation of several training manuals for the US Department of the Interior into three different languages.

"I need your help with something regarding your brother." Nyota said shifting the conversation as they sat down to lunch.

"Of course."

"So every year Spock uses that computer-like brain of his to get the best gifts, Birthday, Christmas - it doesn't matter, his gifts are always better than mine."

Gift giving was something of a competition in their  household so Michael could only imagine that Nyota was struggling.

"His birthday is coming up, and this year I don't want my gift to be topped. So I need a secret weapon." Nyota looked at her.

"Say no more. I'd be happy to help."

"Thank you. This Saturday?"

"Actually, I'm busy. I have plans." Sylvia had proven absolutely right about calling Gabriel they were going to an art exhibit tomorrow evening and had plans for this weekend.

"Ohhhh, still going out with the Captain?"

"Just two weeks so far.'

"How's that going? What's he like?"

For a moment she considered telling Nyota about the coffee kerfuffle and Sylvia's advice to tell Gabe she was a virgin, but then she'd have to tell Nyota she was a virgin. She wasn't in the mood for the shock that someone as pretty as she was still a virgin at thirty.

"Gabriel is rugged, handsome, smart, but not intellucatul with an artistic side."

"Sounds nice.  How old is he?" Nyota asked tone a little too nonchalant.

"How old does Amanda think he is?"

The other woman laughed.

"She seems unsure maybe thirty-seven."

Michael didn't say anything.

"Ok so forty? Forty-five? Fifty?"

Michael shook her head.

"He's forty-seven."

"Oh and you haven't told Amanda or Sarek."

"No, you know how they'll react. Most parents would object, but I'll have to deal with a lecture from Sarek where he doesn't mention Ash, but it's obviously all about Ash, the implication being that I should reevaluate my life choices and then Amanda in an attempt to be supportive will start telling me how pretty and smart and successful I am and I could just meet more men if I would only put myself out there."

"Well that's not too bad."

"I know other people have worse parents."

"You mean like offering to set you up with a nice Tanzanian man when you break-up with the colonizer, while said 'colonizer' is in the room."

"Is your mom still doing that?"

"No, thank god, she finally stopped. Listen I understand why you want to hold off on the family drama, but if you tell them now you can down play it. Say you're just having fun, you're just getting know him. If you wait until things get  serious that might make it a lot harder for them to accept him because once it's serious they have to accept it.

"That's logical.  I'll think about you're saying."

Nyota gasped.

"Logical, that's quite a compliment from you."

Michael rolled her eyes.

"Alright, we should probably head back. What time are we shopping Sunday?"

"My appointment at the beauty shop isn't until three."

"So we can meet at ten?"

"Sure."

"And don't worry, grandpa's age safe with me."

"Gee, thanks."

The two friends hugged and parted, Nyota leaving the Nordstrom's mall by the Wabash exit since her job was in the River North area of downtown, leaving Michael to battle the wind on Michigan Avenue alone.

The next two weeks passed quickly. Nyota kept her updated on the hunt for Spock's gift. She had lunch with her parents and Amanda pestered her for news of the man she was seeing.

She continued seeing Gabriel, each date going well, but something had changed in the way he interacted with her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something had shifted subtly. It took her nearly two weeks for figure it out, but it was in the way he touched her.

His touch had been insistent, his body devouring her space, not that she minded in the least. But now his touch was gentle, lingering, every touch almost a caress. It was nice, and Michael found herself still more at ease with him.

In retrospect, she supposed that was why things went the way they did Thursday night.

Michael had only just gotten settled into work when her phone rang. She'd left at her scheduled time today, 4:00 p.m., gotten home around 4:30 p.m. and gotten settled. The plan had been to work from home until about 6:30 p.m. She got an unexpected call from Gabriel at about a quarter past five.

"Hey Gabe, what's going on?"

"I know you're busy and I hate to ask, but can you take a break, maybe work from my apartment?"

"I could."

"The trip to the base took longer than expected and I just got a flat-"

"Oh. Is everything ok? Do you have a spare?"

"I have a spare, I have triple A. I'm fine, but someone needs to let Buran out. You and Hugh are the only people living in the area."

"I'd be happy to let Boo out."

She'd actually met Boo a few weeks ago.

She'd met Gabe at the Hyde Park Arts Festival, and he'd had a giant dog with him. He'd told her the breed was Alaskan Malamute, but Michael still wasn't convinced the fluffy black, white and gray dog wasn't part wolf. The beast came up to her stomach. Buran had however been calm, well behaved overall and sweet, pushing her head right into Michael's hand for pets. She had decided that the name Buran was too serious and started calling her Boo instead.

"She'll give a warning growl at the door, but back down once you're actually in the apartment. As far as she's concerned, if you have keys, you belong there."

"Alright. Are you sure you don't want me to come and pick you up?" She volunteered, more worried about Gabriel.

"That's alright. I need to deal with this tire, and Boo needs to be let out. Malamutes don't like to be by themselves for hours.

"Okay."

"You don't need to head over right away, maybe twenty minutes. After you walk Boo, help yourself to anything in the refrigerator if you get hungry and I'll pick us up some dinner. As soon as we hang up, I'll text you my wifi password."

"Alright."

"Thanks, Michael, this is a big help."

"Of course."

The call ended, and Michael decided she may as well go now instead of waiting. She put her laptop and a few other items in her bag and went to her closet. She put on a white knit fit and flare dress from Anthropologie, a denim jacket and a pair of high tops. She'd fluffed her hair out into a nice full fro this morning, and it was still looking good. After retouching her makeup, she summoned an Uber and left.

Boo growled at her through the door just as Gabriel said and then stopped the moment Michael was in the apartment. She had been vaguely worried that the doorman might give her a hard time. This was an expensive building; she'd been enough places where people either didn't expect to see black faces or assumed that all black faces were the help that she'd felt some trepidation about how the doorman might react to her.

But the older white man was perfectly friendly giving her the spare key and reminding her of the apartment number.

"Hey girl, you remember me." Michael petted the fluffy dog's giant head, while she whined at her, tail wagging. "Were you lonely?"

Boo licked her hand, and Michael leaned down, but not too close. She had no desire to let this dog lick her in the face.  God, Gabriel probably let her do it, white people.

She opened the foyer closet and found Boo's leash, a ball, and treats. Everything exactly where Gabriel had said it would be. She sat them on the table and looked around for the bathroom. When she'd been here on Saturday it had only been for a few minutes.

There was the living room sitting right off the foyer the evening sun filling the room with orange and gold light and darkened hall that led into the rest of the apartment. Assuming the bathroom would be off that hall Michael slipped her high tops and felt for a lightswitch in the hall.

Michael made her way down the hall he had a few photos hanging on the walls there and Michael wondered if they were his own work or another photographer her admired. She passed a closed door and then the kitchen hoping she would find the bathroom door open. It was one of the furthest from the entry.

The bathroom was fully modernized and sleek, the wall and floor tiled with gray marble. The sink and toilet recutangular with coppery-gold faucets and handles. All the lighting was recessed so that it seemed to glow gently over the sink and shower. Modern wasn't everything. He didn't have a big, clawfoot tub like she did.

Nature's call answered Michael went to go and get Boo and take her for her walk,  but found herself standing in the doorway of Gabriel's bedroom.

The curtains were drawn blocking out the evening sunlight, shrouding the room in darkness. Michael knew she probably shouldn't snoop, but unable to resist, she flipped on the light and looked around.

It was sparsely furnished with bed, dresser, short bookcase, nightstand, a chair with its own table, and a couple of landscapes. The accent wall had been painted a warm golden-coppery color that worked well with the navy bedspread and orange floor rug.

Michael walked over to his bed and ran her fingers over the light spread.

They had only known each other a few weeks, but if they had slept together when she invited him up for coffee, she might have seen his bedroom already. She sat down on the edge and then after a few seconds, lay down. The moment her head hit the pillow his scent wafted over her that mix of his warm rich cologne and a brightly scented soap.  She wondered what it would be like to sleep in his bed as his lover, to fall asleep in his arms as he stroked her hair.* To have him sleep in her bed. What would his weight feel like on top of her, his heat, his strength? She felt that familiar tightening in the pit of her belly, the way she almost always felt about him, semi-aroused.

Michael lay there for several minutes, hands resting on her abdomen, wondering what it would be like until Boo came in, leash in the mouth and whined for her walk.

"You're right girl, I'm sorry." Michael sat up, intending to take Boo for her walk right away, but stopped when she spied two framed pictures on the nightstand table. The first was a picture of Gabriel and his older brother with his parents. He couldn't have been any more than six, and she thought maybe he was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. But it was the second picture that really caught her eye. An adult Gabriel, in his late 20's or early 30's, she couldn't be sure, with a little boy about her complexion, maybe four years old.

There were mountains in the background in dusty desert shades. Georgia had mountains and hills, but they would be covered in trees, green grass, and snow, right? This was somewhere else.

She frowned, Gabriel had not mentioned a kid, but his ex-wife had been black. Surely he would have told her if he had a child.

Annoyed with herself for snooping, especially since that meant she couldn't ask without revealing she'd been snooping, Michael carefully set the picture back on the nightstand.

"Come on, Boo."

Boo was a well-behaved dog, and Michael mimicked the way Gabriel held the leash, keeping it short and close to her body. Boo relieved herself the moment they were out the door, and they headed over to 53rd Street park.

She was normally wary of being out in the park by herself at night, but felt a certain amount of confidence with a wolf-sized dog for company. She didn't worry about her morning runs, statistically speaking anyone looking to burgle you or do worse was, well, active when everyone else was active, 9:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. for break-ins, and 5:00 p.m. - 9 :00 p.m .for muggings, harassment and sexual assault. Five or six in the morning was one of the safest times of all.

With the giant dog at her side strangers gave her a wide berth and Michael found herself considering an edition to her family of pets. It wasn't just harassment she wanted to avoid, but people in general it seemed a giant dog was a good way to do that.

While they were in the park she Buran off the leash for a bit to play fetch taking a meandering walk down to 57th Street Beach and then headed over to Lake Park Boulevard and back to Gabe's apartment at 51st Street. Hyde Park had changed a lot in the last ten years - some aspects were good, others less so.

Several of the pleasant public spaces were gone, like Harper's court along with a number of longtime small businesses. Still out of all the city renovation over the last ten years Hyde Park's was probably the most balanced. Small businesses like Dr. Wax,  57th St Barbeque and several of the old used bookstores were still in place. Baskin Robbins the site of President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama's first kiss would surely be there forever.

The doorman gave her just as friendly a greeting when she returned, and Michael took the elevator back up to Gabe's apartment.

Buran walked, Michael refilled the dog's food and water and stood in the kitchen a moment.

She should get back to work, but the picture, of course, was still on her mind. Who was the little boy? Knowing that she shouldn't be prying, Michael went back into Gabe's bedroom and picked up the picture. The frame came apart easily enough, and she looked at the back of the photo. Gabriel and Anthony, Grand Canyon, 200 - She squinted trying to read the last number. Whoever had written it had very poor handwriting, it could have been 2, 3 or 8.

Anthony, Grand Canyon. She could go prying on his Facebook page. See if there was anything. Did they have Facebook back in 2002? She put the picture back in place and went back to the living room.

The living room had the same warm feel as Gabriel's bedroom with modern navy color sectional sofa, a breakfast nook with a padded circular bench and glass table that looked out onto the park. More art hung here, in bright colors to offset the dark walls. Before settling, Michael found the thermostat in the hall and turned the air conditioning off. With the sun down the air outside was cool and pleasant. She opened the living room windows letting in a late evening breeze that stirred the curtains.

Michael settled on the sofa, it was plush and well padded and comfortable.

Opening her laptop, and putting her feet up on the coffee table she navigated to Facebook. She'd never been much of a Facebook user, though she'd taken to Snapchat and Instagram. Still, she had a page. She logged on for the first time in months. There were several friend requests, including one from Gabriel which she accepted before going to his page. He'd been tagged in a number of pictures. The first was a group photo captioned “Sisko's” that must have been from just a couple weeks ago.

The picture was of Gabriel and seven other men and women. A couple of them had take-out containers, and everyone looked happy. Must be some of his Navy friends.

She was trying to decide how best to search through his timeline and look for any mention of an Anthony or Grand Canyon when she stopped herself.

Whatever the relationship with Anthony was, son or nephew, the only picture was in his bedroom. Obviously, Anthony was important to him, but it was also something private. She closed his page. He'd tell her about Anthony if and when he was ready. Gabriel trusted her; she wasn't going to violate that trust by prying. Besides, she had her own work to do.

Setting her curiosity aside, Michael toggled to her work file, put in her earbuds and put her feet up on the coffee table. In a few minutes, she was completely absorbed in typing up her conclusions about the results from the labs.

She worked for about half an hour before Boo came to sit with her on the couch, weaseling her head and front paws into Michael's lap, looking up at her with big puppy dog eyes.

Charmed and amused, Michael shifted her laptop to accommodate the dog.

[ladylilithprime]

61+Sabriel for the kiss prompts, please?

61. Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp

THE FIRST TIME Castiel brought Gabriel to Sam’s bed, it was out of desperation. Metatron had resurrected the Archangel, but kept him captive and hobbled, and it had taken an extremely risky plan involving Cas cutting out his borrowed Grace long enough to rescue Gabriel and then Hannah hauling both of them back to Lebanon and the Bunker. Castiel had used a very credible imitation of Sam’s puppy eyes on Dean to let him get the drained and unconscious Archangel inside the Bunker’s wards, but with Sam he used logic. Human souls are powerful, and neither he nor Gabriel possessed a soul inside their vessels, and the proximity to Sam during those long weeks of convalescence had done wonders for Castiel’s recovery, asking Dean to do it was hardly a good idea with the Mark still on his arm, Sam didn’t need to do anything and Castiel promised he would stay right there and keep an eye on things to make sure Gabriel didn’t do anything if he woke….

The “if” was the deciding factor, ultimately, and Sam fell asleep on one side of the bed with Gabriel passed out on the other and Castiel perched on the foot of the bed watching them both. For the next four days, Sam would go about his day as per usual, though he found himself spending more time in his room with his research than the library, and at night he would fall asleep next to Gabriel, trusting Castiel to keep watch for anything wrong. More and more, however, Sam could admit that the “anything wrong” was anything preventing Gabriel’s recovery. Sam might still have quite a few trust issues when it came to the being who had put him through his own personal Hell long before Lucifer ever got popped out of the box, but Dean not remembering and also knowing that he’d been trying to prevent the box from popping made it easier to forgive.

On the fifth day, Sam woke to find a pair of whiskey-gold eyes staring at him from about six inches away. He blinked. Gabriel was still awake and staring at him, and didn’t appear to have moved in the slightest. Somewhat at a loss, and not entirely awake himself, Sam asked, “Feeling any better?”

Gabriel disappeared without a word, the only sign he’d been there the slowly settling sheets.

THE SECOND TIME was the same night. Castiel showed up at the Bunker door, once more mostly carrying the weakened Archangel. This time, however, Gabriel was awake and surly about it, meaning Dean was even less inclined to let him in until Sam came up behind him to see what was going on. Gabriel’s expression went blank so quickly that Dean actually blinked.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said as calmly as he could manage, as if it was perfectly expected for their seraph friend to show up on their doorstep with a recalcitrant Archangel. “Usual room is free. Need a hand?”

“I have him, thank you, Sam,” Castiel answered, hefting Gabriel a little higher so that the Archangel’s feet were left dangling above the ground as Castiel stepped around Dean and carried his older brother into the Bunker. “Now that he is awake, he should probably eat something sugary to help replenish his pagan energies.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Sam promised as they disappeared down the hall.

“Really, Sam? You that eager to play Florence Nightingale for the pixie?” Dean griped, earning him a classic “don’t be a dick” bitchface from Sam in response. “Whatever, just don’t be stealing my pie to feed him.”

Sam flipped him off and grabbed his coat to go into town. It was his turn to make a grocery run anyway, and while Dean might not appreciate cake, he had a feeling that Gabriel would be more receptive.

He was back an hour later with his preferred selection of fresh fruit and vegetables along with a large packet of ground beef and, to help placate his brother, the last plate of pecan pie from the bakery near the grocery store. Putting the perishables away in the refrigerator and leaving the pie on the kitchen table, Sam carried the last bag containing the plastic cake box down the hall towards his room. He could hear the harsh, gutteral Enochian with ringing overtones even through the closed door, and had to swallow back a flare of panic before he could knock. The voices - and he tried not to think about how he could distinguish the differences between Castiel’s Voice and Gabriel’s - fell blessedly silent, and he took that as the signal to open the door, tossing the bag gently onto the bed by Gabriel’s knee as he crossed to his dresser.

There was a pause, then the rustling crinkle of a plastic bag being moved, either pulled closer or opened, and then Gabriel’s almost incredulous drawl of, “Angel food cake? Seriously?”

“They were out of Death By Chocolate,” Sam said evenly in a credible imitation of Castiel’s deadpan tone.

There was a moment of silence, and then Gabriel said, somewhere between weary and amused, “Touche, kiddo.” It was the first thing the Archangel had said to him since before his death, and Sam tried not to think to closely about why his gut clenched. He found his pajamas and turned to head back out of the room when Gabriel called out, “Sam… thanks.”

Sam felt the heat creeping up his neck into his face and forced himself to keep breathing. He’d never heard Gabriel say that before, certainly not to him. He glanced back in uncertainty, only to find Gabriel watching him with a quietly intent expression that was almost worse than the blankness from before. For one gut-twisting moment he wished he hadn’t let his hair grow out so long that he couldn’t hide behind his bangs any more– Gabriel wasn’t thanking him for the cake, and Sam couldn’t wrap his head around what else it might be, because it wasn’t like he’d really done anything.

Haltingly, he mumbled something that he hoped would pass for some sort of acknowledgement and fled to the bathroom down the hall. He stayed there for several minutes just relearning how to breathe, and then several more minutes once he was in the shower just letting the Bunker’s water pressure beat the tension out of his back and shoulders until he thought he could go back to his room without ending up a stammering mess.

He hadn’t needed to worry. When he returned to his room, dressed in pajamas and carrying his other clothes, both Gabriel and Castiel were thoroughly engrossed in watching… Sam glanced at the screen, since the volume was turned down to angel levels, and blinked. Were they really watching Downton Abbey? He glanced at the angels in question and noticed the slight twitches and flickers in their expressions indicating a more telepathic conversation going on, and decided he was probably better off not knowing. Dropping his clothes into the hamper in his closet, he hesitated only a moment before sliding into bed next to Gabriel and turning over to sleep with a mumbled, “G’night, Cas, Gabe.”

“Good night, Sam,” Castiel answered, just above Gabriel’s own quiet murmur of, “Night, kiddo.”

Once again, Gabriel was gone in the morning.

THE THIRD TIME, Castiel showed up with Gabriel’s arm draped over his shoulders and the Archangel clutching at his bloodsoaked side. Dean didn’t even bother with a token protest, just let them in the door and yelled for Sam to get the first aid kit. Sam met them in his room, an old towel already laid out over the bed to catch the blood, and set to work cleaning and stitching the deep gouges that looked suspiciously like claw marks while Castiel hovered near the bed in case he had to hold Gabriel down.

“What the hell even happened?” Dean asked, more aggressively than Sam really felt was warranted. From the glance Gabriel and Castiel exchanged before the Archangel had to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a few minutes, they agreed with him.

“Scratch Abaddon off the list,” Gabriel managed around his gritted teeth. “Had to take care of that while I’m still low-powered so as not to give away my survival to Metadouche. If we’re lucky, he’ll think Dean-o here took her out with the power boost from that nasty little murder mark on his arm and I’ll have enough time to recharge and plan a proper trap for him.”

“You took her on without telling us?” Dean asked, sounding somewhere between angry and hurt. He’d gotten the damn Mark in order to be able to wield the First Blade so he could take on Abaddon, after all. “You could have at least taken us along for back-up!”

“No offense meant,” Gabriel gritted out, “but you two chuckleheads are a bit out of your league when it comes to a Knight of Hell. Technically the Princes and Dukes are stronger, but the Knights are much more vicious fighters since that was pretty much their whole job description.”

“What about Lilith and Alistair?” Dean countered, ignoring the way Sam went still. “Sammy killed those two just fine.”

“While jacking up my powers with demon blood,” Sam ground out, not looking up at any of the three in the room. “And Lilith wasn’t exactly fighting back all that much. Thanks so much for bringing that up, Dean, really.”

“Sam…” Dean started, caught somewhere between frustration and apology.

Sam wasn’t done. “Of course, I haven’t actually used my powers at all since Famine, unless you count what happened in Stull or kicking Gadreel out of my head. I’m a little out of practice in killing demons with my mind, even without the need to lock me up in the dungeon for four days to detox after the fact.”

“Wait, what?!” Gabriel interrupted, his sharp incredulity causing Sam to flinch. “You don’t detox from anything by locking someone up and leaving them, especially not demon blood! For Dad’s sake, you could have killed him!”

“At least he would have died human!” Dean said defensively. Sam hunched in on himself and refused to look up from his careful stitching, hearing again the echoes of Dean’s cold voice speaking those same words to Bobby all those years ago along with “monster” and “vampire” and “there’s no going back.”

“Cassie, tell me I’m not hearing this,” Gabriel was saying, his blood-coated hand clenching and flexing just within Sam’s line of sight. “Lie to me if you have to.”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Castiel answered, sounding genuinely regretful. “I’m a terrible liar.”

“Ugh!” Gabriel made a brief, aborted move to lift his hand, apparently changing his mind when he caught sight of his blood covering it. When he spoke next, his tone was measured and even and practically arctic. “Look, you arrogant, self-Righteous Man, demon blood isn’t like heroin addiction. The stuff attacks on a spiritual level, ripping into the soul of the person who got conned into drinking it and leaving it shredded as if Alistair had gotten a hold of it for a decade or five. Assuming the person in question has as bright and pure a soul as Sam-a-lam here, that shredded soul gets taken up to Heaven, only to be shunted over to a recovery wing where the Rit-Zien, under the command of Raphael, are supposed to be taking care of piecing together damaged souls so that they don’t automatically reject their personal Heavens.” Somewhat sarcastically, he added, “What, exactly, do you think Raph would have done to your brother’s soul up there?”

“Cas….?” Dean asked shakily. Sam could almost hear the pleading that his brother wouldn’t voice, begging Castiel to tell him that Gabriel was wrong. Castiel sighed and, after a long moment, answered with a kind of weary resignation.

“Raphael would not have been kind, by any stretch of the imagination,” the seraph admitted. “Zachariah’s manipulations of your shared Heaven were bad enough when it was the both of you sent up with you, Dean, being protected as Michael’s intended Vessel. Sam was afforded no such protections on his own, given the attitude many angels held towards him at the time, and so would likely have been subjected to further tortures.”

That explains a lot, Sam thought to himself, more resigned than anything over the confirmation that Heaven had consistently rejected him. The idea that his soul could ever be described as “pure” was laughable, of course, but shredded… that wasn’t the first time he’d heard that.

The silence became heavy, and then there was the rustling of Castiel’s coat as he moved. Sam went still when the seraph’s hand appeared in his line of sight near his arm, forcing his hands not to move so as not to pull or jerk at the unfinished stitches in Gabriel’s side. The hand hovered, as if giving him time to see and acknowledge it, and then dropped to rest lightly on Sam’s arm. Sam didn’t move, could barely even bring himself to breathe, and the hand shifted as Castiel stepped up close behind Sam and gently wrapped his arms around him.

“I wondered,” Castiel said from somewhere above Sam’s head, his soft voice aching with sorrow. “When you rejoined Dean, after your separation following the confrontation with War, there were stresses on your soul, which I attributed to Lucifer’s visiting your dreams. How many times?”

“Seven,” Sam admitted, barely above a whisper. The angel’s arms tightened around him and he swallowed. “I figured if Dean didn’t want me around and wasn’t going to follow through on his promise to kill me himself, the least I could do was make sure Lucifer couldn’t take his true Vessel. Lucifer claimed he brought me back every time, but I guess it could have just been the other angels kicking me out after expressing their displeasure over me not playing my role like a good little abomination.”

Castiel made a soft, wounded noise and laid his cheek against the top of Sam’s head as his hold on Sam got even tighter. Sam clenched his jaw against voicing his physical discomfort, reaching up with the hand not holding the needle to touch one of Castiel’s hands briefly in silent apology before he bent back to the task of stitching up Gabriel’s wounds. He had to pause again when the hand Gabriel had twisted in the sheet came up and gently covered his, looking up in uncertainty to see the Archangel watching him with a hooded, pained expression in his golden eyes.

“Of all the things I’ve done to you…” Gabriel started, then trailed off with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s not…” Sam stopped and swallowed back his automatic response, trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, Raphael pretty much just wanted to destroy humanity, especially towards the end. You just wanted it to be over so you didn’t have to keep watching your brothers fight.”

“Still,” Gabriel murmured, not looking any happier. He looked like he might have said more, except Dean finally found his voice again, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

“Sammy?” he asked, voice shaking and small. “All this time… have you really been thinking I was going to kill you?“

“Not… exactly,” Sam winced. He really didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not right now with his hands covered in Gabriel’s blood, but he wasn’t going to lie to Dean. “I mean, much as I hate those damn books, reading them kind of helped put some things in perspective, gave me a little more information, so I know the voicemail I got from you before Ilchester wasn’t the one you left–”

“Wait, what?” Dean interrupted, starting to frown. “You didn’t get–”

“I doubt I was supposed to,” Sam broke in, his tone matter of fact as he lowered his eyes back to his work, making neat, efficient work of the last set of stitches. “Heaven and Hell both wanted me off the rails and killing Lilith, so Zachariah changing the message to push me past my breaking point isn’t that much of a surprise.”

“…What did the message say?” Dean asked, low and almost dangerous, his tone very similar to the one he used to get whenever something was threatening Sam, before everything literally went to Hell.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. He didn’t really see how it could.

“Yes it matters if it made you think I’d want to kill you!” Dean spluttered, a note of fear edging along the blustering anger.

“Like you calling me a monster to my face, or saying that if you didn’t know me you’d want to hunt me? That Dad said to save me or kill me? That I’m a freak? ‘If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back’?” Sam shook his head and carefully tied off the thread and snipped the needle free, setting both needle and scissors aside as he said, “The voicemail didn’t say anything I hadn’t already heard from you before, it just lumped it all together at once. Neosporin.”

Castiel untangled one arm from around Sam’s shoulders and plucked up the little tube of antibiotic ointment from where it rested on the bed just out of Sam’s reach. Sam took it, brushing his fingers along Castiel’s in silent thanks. He wasn’t even surprised by the slight tingle of Grace from Castiel that left his hands free of blood when he opened the tube and squeezed out a generous amount onto the palm of his hand.

“You know I don’t actually need that,” Gabriel said. His voice sounded only a little bit dubious, like he was trying to hide his skepticism.

“The less your Grace has to do to maintain your Vessel, the faster you will recover,” Sam recited, his lips twitching slightly as he heard Castiel echoing the litany from the early days of his own convalescence. Even Dean snickered a little at their Greek chorus impression. It didn’t last long, and a moment later Dean was saying Sam’s name in a wounded, unhappy tone.

“Dean,” Castiel said, a note of warning in his usually implaccable tone. “While I was aware of the discrepancies between the message you left and the message Sam received, I believed, perhaps erroneously, that the two of you would discuss the message at some point. Perhaps my own efforts on behalf of Heaven contributed to your refusal to talk to Sam honestly, but you did not. You simmered and snapped, at Sam and at me, and if as Sam says the words he heard were not wholly unexpected he would not have wished to bring it up in case ‘reminding’ you of ‘your’ words made you decide to kill your brother after all.”

“Pretty much,” Sam admitted. He dipped his first two fingers into the ointment to test whether it had warmed enough from his body heat. “That and I read the books while I was soulless, so I wasn’t going to risk bringing it up when you were treating me more like a thing than a person.”

“That wasn’t you,” Dean started, but Sam shook his head.

“You keep saying that, but you’re still doing it,” he said, weariness creeping into his tone despite his best efforts. “You’re still treating me like a disappointment at best and a burdensome pet at worst, and whatever that Mark is doing to you really isn’t helping.” He sighed. “Look, can we… table this for a moment? I need to concentrate for a minute, here.”

“Since when do you need to concentrate to apply antibiotic ointment?” Dean muttered, voice sulky but subdued. Sam ignored him, turning his attention partially inward as he brought his ointment covered fingers down to the first of the stitched scratches. Light bloomed before his eyes, twisting and fluttering, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from gasping or worse, screaming. His chest ached as he tugged internally, but one of the tattered filaments lifted up to slide down the length of his arm and out to the tips of his fingers as he began to spread the ointment, tracing Gabriel’s injuries slowly with the thin unravelled tendril of his soul.

Castiel gasped and tightened his arms around Sam, but otherwise held himself rigidly still at Sam’s back. Beneath Sam’s hand, Gabriel’s stomach muscles trembled, but the Archangel didn’t make a sound that Sam could perceive with his ears. Dimly he thought he heard Dean demanding for Castiel to tell him what was wrong, what was going on, what was Sam doing….

Sam just managed to reach the end of the final wound with the last of the ointment before darkness closed in on him and he slumped across the bed and Gabriel’s legs, unconscious.

THE FOURTH TIME was technically a continuation of the third, but it was still Sam and Gabriel sharing a bed due to Castiel’s actions so Sam was counting it. Rather than placing Gabriel in Sam’s bed as the Archangel was already there, however, Castiel had moved the unconscious hunter to lie beside Gabriel. Sam woke some time later to discover that he had rolled in his sleep to cuddle up close against Gabriel’s side with one hand tangled in his shirt. His attempt to disengage himself from Gabriel’s clothing drew said Archangel’s attention away from the flickering television screen.

For a long moment, hunter and Archangel stared at each other, each with their thoughts carefully hidden behind mental shields and controlled expressions. Unlike the usual silences between Sam and Dean, however, this time it was Sam who spoke first. “How’re you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that,” Gabriel said after several moments of just blinking at Sam in incredulity. “Do I even want to ask where the hell you learned how to do that incredibly dangerous trick of yours?”

“Probably not,” Sam mumbled, eyes darting down and away to study the newly fascinating weave of the blanket. “It helped a little, though… didn’t it?”

“It helped a lot, kiddo,” Gabriel admitted, making Sam smile. The smile fell again when the Archangel continued, “it also scared me and Cassie half to death, and almost finished the job when you passed out without cutting the connection first. Cassie had to take your brother off to go make food or something so he wouldn’t do anything stupid like try to wake you up.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that, since Dean probably won’t,” Sam sighed, picking at a loosened thread in the blanket. It probably wouldn’t even occur to Dean how dangerous trying to wake him could be. Sam’s reflex grab for a weapon upon being awakened suddenly would only have been magnified by the connection Sam had been maintaining with his soul when he passed out. Just because he never consciously used his demon powers anymore didn’t mean they were gone….

“You do know your powers aren’t actually demonic, right?”Sam shot a half-hearted scowl in Gabriel’s direction, but the Archangel lifted both hands in placation.“Not eavesdropping, promise,” he assured Sam. “Just, you kinda crashed your usual walls with that stunt earlier and you’re projecting a bit.”

“Sorry,” Sam muttered, glancing down again as he tries to pull himself together a bit more. He jumped when one of Gabriel’s hands covered his on the blanket, swallowing tightly as he glanced up through the fall of his hair.

“Take it easy for a bit, huh?” Gabriel murmured, his face doing something weird that might have been an expression of concern. “You overshot the mark trying to fix up Abaddon’s little papercuts and brought me back to nearly half-strength in one go. You can take a little time for yourself to rest and relax.” Golden eyebrows quirked upwards as Gabriel added, “You do at least remember how to do that, right?”

“Might be a little rusty,” Sam found himself admitting with a rueful little half-hearted chuckle. It faded quickly into a despondent sigh. They hardly ever seemed to get any breathing room lately, just one thing after another after another clusterfuck. He wasn’t about to say so and risk annoying the Archangel with his whining.

“Given everything Cassie told me about that’s happened and a few other things I kinda extrapolated from the gaps, I think you’ve more than earned the right to whine a bit, kiddo,” Gabriel told him in frank tones, squeezing his hands gently before letting go and slumping back down onto the bed. “Also, still not eavesdropping. Your powers - which, as I said, are not actually demonic in origin - make you a little louder than most humans when you don’t have your shields up. You’ve got some pretty impressive ones, too, by the way.”

“Thanks?” Sam stammered, even less sure of what to do with Gabriel’s compliments than he was with Gabriel’s apology or expressions of gratitude. From the tinge of sadness that entered Gabriel’s expressive golden eyes, the Archangel probably knew it, too.

“We’ll work on it,” came the only somewhat disconcerting promise. “For now, you should probably eat some of whatever that is the Dean-Bean just finished cooking for you. Smells like burgers,” he added when Sam eyed the door as if unsure he really wanted it to open. “Cassie promised to bring food to us so we don’t have to go anywhere.”

Well, okay, it’s not like Dean’s burgers weren’t all kinds of amazing since they’d moved into the Bunker and his brother had started “nesting” as he called it, and if Sam was completely honest the idea of getting out of bed was less than appealing just at that moment. Mindful of his apparently lowered mental shields, Sam refrained from allowing himself to think at all about why that was the case, even if it still felt odd to just lie in bed next to an Archangel and wait to be waited on by his best friend who also happened to be an angel. His life was surreal.

Castiel’s arrival moments later with a large platter of burgers saved Sam from having to find a way to answer out loud. The platter was set down between Sam and Gabriel’s knees, and Castiel took up his accustomed position at the foot of the bed facing them. Sam even managed to eat two full burgers and half of a third before his stomach protested the idea of trying for more, at which point Gabriel leaned over and took a bite out of the remaining half while it was still in Sam’s hand. Sam rolled his eyes and handed the rest of his burger over before allowing himself to slump back down into his bed’s embrace. It was probably just Gabriel’s suggestion that he was allowed to relax, but a nap was sounding really good to Sam right about then.

And if Castiel thought anything about Sam rolling into Gabriel’s side to cuddle before he was technically fully asleep, well, the seraph mercifully said nothing.

WHEN GABRIEL APPEARED in Sam’s bed the fifth time, three days after the death of Abaddon, Castiel was conspicuously absent. In fact, from the way Gabriel was glaring at a rumpled spot of blanket near the foot of the bed, Sam suspected that Castiel had deliberately popped out (or gone invisible with intent to sneak out, given the Bunker’s wards) only moments before he’d entered his room. Why, however, was still a mystery, so Sam went ahead and stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him.“Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” Gabriel muttered on the end of an irritated sigh. His eyes tracked something that Sam couldn’t see with his normal vision, and Sam deliberately didn’t Reach to look for, until “whatever it was” reached the door. Sam gave it to the mental count of five before he gently nudged the door closed with his foot. There was a soft thump and a muffled curse right before the door clicked shut. Sam barely managed to meet Gabriel’s eyes before the both of them were snickering like naughty school children who had just gotten away with a prank.

The shared amusement couldn’t quite disguise the lines of stress around Gabriel’s eyes and mouth, however, and Sam found his feet carrying him to the edge of the bed opposite where Gabriel was half-reclined. He sat sideways on the bed, facing wall and Archangel, and steeled his nerves. “So. I’m guessing from that little display of his typical subtlety, Cas thinks we need to talk?”

“I’d ask how you guessed, but I bet Dean made some comment to you to that effect?” When Sam nodded, Gabriel sighed again more deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture of an impending headache. “Our brothers are conniving together.”

“Beats Dean sniping and Cas giving him the cold shoulder,” Sam shrugged. His fingers twitched to start picking at the blanket and he made himself fold his hands in his lap instead. “I’m guessing that talk you had with him a couple of days ago is why Dean’s being so conscientious of his anger management and personal safety now?”

“It may be a factor,” Gabriel admitted, offering his own shrug. “The last thing any of us needs is him biting it while that Mark has a hold on him. ‘Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell’ isn’t really a title he wants to aspire to any more than ‘brother-killer’, which, by the way, I didn’t mention that last one. Cain told him that, something about living Cain’s life in reverse.”

“I guess he would know,” Sam muttered. Suddenly Dean’s reaction to finding out about the voicemail and Sam’s subsequent expectation of death at his brother’s hand made a lot more sense if he was already afraid of exactly that. “So. Talk?”

“Talk,” Gabriel confirmed. He tilted his head to give Sam a slantwise look. “What’s the bet that our darling interfering brothers also gave us completely different topics to talk about?”

“My bet’s on half-and-half,” Sam said after a moment of consideration. If Castiel was trying to be sneaky and subtle, then he’d been talking to Dean about this a little too much, which probably meant… “We were each given two conversation topics, one that matches up and one that differs.”

“Usual stakes?” Gabriel asked, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes.

Sam, who had read up on Norse mythology after the showdown at the Elysian Fields hotel and the deaths of so many pagan gods (including Gabriel) at Lucifer’s hands, made a face and shook his head. “No thanks. I’m sure she’s nice enough, but I’m not interested in marrying Freya.”

Gabriel let out a bark of laughter. “Fair enough! Eh, I’ll think of something…” With almost studious casualness, he added, “Cassie wanted me to talk to you about the plan to take down Metatron and get your opinion on Gadreel. And he may also have mentioned that he thinks I should tell you all about how I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Sam blinked. He couldn’t have heard that right… except there was a faint dusting of pink across Gabriel’s cheekbones like some artist’s rendering of a delicate blush, and it could have been a trick… but it could have also been Gabriel deliberately mimicking human body responses to give Sam the clues he was more used to gathering. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone as light and casual as the Archangel’s had been. “Huh. Dean told me to talk to you about my reckless, passively suicidal tendencies - which, sure, I will when he does, the hypocrite - and about the giant crush he’s only just now noticing I have on you even though it’s been there since we met in that university in Ohio.” He hesitated as Gabriel blinked at him in apparent shock, then blurted out in a burst of awkward curiosity, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Thought you hated me,” Gabriel answered, after a long moment of soundless jaw movement that failed to produce words. “I certainly gave you enough cause to, or thought I did…. Why didn’t you?”

“Hate you or say anything?” It was a necessary clarification to make, but Gabriel only shrugged. No help there. Sam sighed and tried to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. “Look, I…. even before I knew about the demon blood in me, I’ve always felt… wrong inside. And there you were, cute and funny and flirting with me…. It was almost a relief when you turned out to be what we were hunting, except then you threw the fight. Don’t give me that look, you totally did. Two clumsy chainsaw killers and a couple of porn stars, after you made that kid think he was abducted by aliens?

“And then when Dean stabbed you, or I guess an illusion of you, the fighter props disappeared but the bed and disco ball didn’t, and I don’t know if Bobby noticed but I know Dean didn’t.” Sam paused, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t just tell Dean we hadn’t killed you, and not just because of the allegations against that professor that turned up after he was dead and couldn’t threaten his victims into silence anymore. By the time it hit me, we were on a werewolf case and I was so distracted I ended up… um, personally finding the second werewolf.”

“Gotta admit I’m curious what your reason was, if you really knew I wasn’t dead,” Gabriel said, only the slightest shifting to give away his discomfort at hearing Sam’s near-confession to sleeping with Madison because of it.

“You reminded me of Jess,” Sam said, low voiced and strained. “Your upbeat nature, your humor, your smile… even your work as a trickster, I mean, there’s a few seriously humbled jocks from Stanford with a healthy respect for Jess’s temper and her vengeance streak. Making that connection, realizing why I kept quiet and had to keep staying quiet… it almost felt like driving away from our apartment all over again. Confronting you the second time in Broward County? That was like watching her die, pinned to the ceiling and burning to death because Hell’s plans for me didn’t include happiness.”

One of Gabriel’s hands came into view. Sam watched as it hovered, just like Castiel had done three nights ago, and then dropped to rest on top of one of Sam’s own hands. Sam couldn’t help the soft huff of barely there laughter at Gabriel mimicking Castiel’s care to only touch Sam with his awareness and permission, and turned his hand over to lace their fingers together.. Permission granted.

He was immediately tugged forward to rest against Gabriel’s chest, the Archangel’s free arm coming up to wrap around Sam’s shoulders and pull him close. Sam sucked in a breath, nearly overwhelmed by the way Gabriel’s Grace seemed to surround him all at once, a tidal wave of light and warmth a hundred times stronger than he had ever felt from Castiel. It took him several precious seconds to remember to keep breathing, and then he was being surrounded all over again with the scent of Gabriel, the scent of ozone and vanilla and cinnamon that clung to his sheets and pillows when the Archangel disappeared.

“I didn’t know what to expect from you that first time we met,” Gabriel was saying, his chest vibrating pleasantly real and alive where it pressed against Sam. “I knew who the Vessels were supposed to be, obviously, and there would have been some parallels inasmuch as possible given the species difference. I almost didn’t put out the signal to catch your notice, but I had to see… I had to know. And then…” Gabriel swallowed and laughed a little, a weak and fluttering sound. “Then I met you, and you were everything Lucifer used to be before he was corrupted and more! Brighter, fiercer, more vibrantly angry but not ruled by that anger.

“I knew going in to that time loop that I’d end up hurting you, but I didn’t realize how bad. I made the mistake of thinking of you and Dean and Lucifer and Michael in human form. Lucifer would have given up after a hundred. You never did.” There was more than a hint of apology in Gabriel’s tone that made Sam’s chest ache. “And then those six months after, watching you fall into the darkness that anyone else with destiny’s deck stacked against them the way it was for you would have already been at and knowing that it was my fault, that I was the one responsible for drowning your light– mmf!”

Sam’s hands refused to budge from where they were clutching Gabriel’s jacket, so he stopped the flood of words from the Archangel’s lips with his own. Gabriel’s startled yelp gave way to a low moan as he opened to Sam readily, and the hunter wasted no time in deepening the kiss. Vanilla and cinnamon and sugar hit his tongue with the first swipe into Gabriel’s mouth, and he might have said something about how it just figured that Gabriel would taste like Snickerdoodles if Sam hadn’t been entirely too busy with kissing him to comment. One of his hands found its way beneath the back of Gabriel’s jacket to drag his fingernails across the dip in his spine just above the waistband of his jeans and Gabriel broke the kiss with a gasp, drawing back just enough to stare wide-eyed up into Sam’s face, chest heaving for breath he didn’t need.

“Is there anything else we really need to talk about right this second?” Sam asked, just as breathless, fingertips stroking over that spot which had garned him such a strong reaction. Because he really wanted to defer any other talking until later.

Later, he could explain about all the ways he had come to love and admire Gabriel for himself, as more than just a reminder of Jess, even before he had ever known the “trickster” who was probably also a pagan god was originally an angel.

Later, they could talk through Sam’s self-loathing and feelings of loss and betrayal and anguish that kept him from sleeping most nights his bed went unoccupied by Gabriel beside him.

Later, they could find Dean and Castiel and talk about the plan to take down Metatron and literally anything else, but right now? Right now, through Castiel’s connivance, Sam had Gabriel all to himself, his feelings laid bare and somehow, bewilderingly, miraculously returned, and Sam didn’t want to spend that time talking.

“Nah, we’re good,” Gabriel agreed, a little dazed and a little amused  and a lot eager if the way he was pulling Sam back in was anything to go by. Not that Sam was resisting at all. Or complaining.

They still got a little noisy.

AFTER THE SIXTH time, Sam stopped keeping count.

-End-