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whatwashernameagain · 6 years ago

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I’m dying to be with you - Chapter 1

Warnings: Hospitals, contemplation of death, hypochondria

Masterpost

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In Patton’s humble opinion, the threat of an imminent death was no reason to be gloomy! Not as long as there were so many pretty things to enjoy! Summer was on its way and the late spring-flowers in the park surrounding the hospital were in full bloom – light pink columbine with their delicate hats, cheerful little daisies in the grass with which he liked to weave flowery necklaces, tulips with their bright cup-like heads, tiny snowdrop anemones with white petals hiding in the shade of the trees he liked to crawl under when he was unwatched, and all of the lovely wildflowers in the field right next to the park. Bright yellow little bird’s-foot flowers was dancing in the wind there while pink Corncockle flowers were complementing them next to large, cloudy swaths of cow parsley, which looked perfectly white, like foam floating over the fields. There were many more, short and tall and lovely in their own way. Patton found them even prettier than the large, perfectly straight tulips or lilies that were especially bred to be flashy and perfect.

His favorite flower was the Cornflower, which was small and feathery, growing even among many other weeds and still shining so much more brightly and vibrantly than all of them. They were the exact same shade as the eyes of his handsome, serious doctor.

Patton sighed softly as he contemplated the chestnut tree in front of his window. He thought its large, finger-like leaves were especially lush and green today, still wet and fresh after the rain that had showered it this night. Perhaps he could sneak out and shake some leftover raindrops into his hair? The serious doctor would frown upon hearing this idea, he was sure.

As they did so often, his thoughts would stray to the man with the cornflower eyes. Envisioning his tall, straight form, his perfectly groomed raven hair, his severe face that often looked tired, yet made Patton’s hummingbird heart feel stronger, like it had all the power in the world. Especially when he recalled how the doctor’s face warmed when he looked at Patton, how he would roll his lovely eyes at his puns, how his lips would curl in an unintentional smile – yes, everything in his chest was working just fine when he thought about doctor Sanders.

Right on cue, a knock sounded at his door. Three times, perfectly even. Patton lit up impossibly bright, sitting up and ruffling his hair. He had been a little lonely in his room after the sweet old lady had been discharged. She had told him so many stories and shared her wonderful cookie recipe with him. He was excited to go home and try it! It would surely be very soon, Patton was an optimist after all! While he was here though, he might as well enjoy the things he could not get at home.

“Come in!” He called brightly.

I know, Patton thought to his leaping little heart, he really does look especially handsome today.

Doctor Sanders was wearing the navy blue vest under his white coat that his excited patient liked best. It hugged his slim waist just right and made him look so elegant – he always was, with his tie and pressed white shirt and tailored trousers in shades of blue and black. His glasses were a little crooked on his nose though, and he was balancing way too many files in his arms, looking a little overworked already. That would not do! Patton had made it his mission to help him relax and made the dutiful man smile at least once a day. He worked so hard, looking after him was really the least he could do!

Doctor Sanders gave him a curt nod and a quick once over as he entered the room, apparently noticing the state of his hair with worry. “Salutation Mr Fairchild.” He greeted, already looking down at Patton’s file attentively. The bubbly patient huffed.

“Do call me Patton, pretty please!” He argued (again), looking up at the man with his playful, light blue eyes. He knew well how to get his attention after all. And sure enough, he blushed as Patton leaned closer, clasping his hands in front of his chest innocently.

Clearing his throat, he argued halfheartedly, “Such behavior would be unprofessional, I really should not -” He broke off helplessly, as Patton dropped his head in apparent sadness.

“Well, alright – Patton.” He conceded. He always did. This little dance was part of their routine. Pat beamed.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Doctor Sanders asked. He looked down at the thick file in his hands, perhaps to hide his embarrassment?

“Well, actually, I think I might be coming down with something,” Patton mumbled, running a hand over his forehead, into his intentionally messy, silky honey curls. “I feel like I might be running a little hot.” He breathed, leaning closer.

The doctor’s brow furrowed. Infections were common in such conditions and not to be trifled with. Before he could call a nurse to take the patients temperature, his free hand was grabbed in a smaller, softer one. He instantly felt a blush climbed his cheeks.

“Would you have a look, doctor?” Patton asked innocently, pulling the large, elegant hand closer and placing it against his smooth cheek.

He knew he should not trick the kind man like this, but his hands were so warm and felt so nice, he was powerless to resist. Especially because of the way the severe lines around his mouth would always soften when he was with Patton.

Putting his files down, he placed both hands on Patton’s pretty face, one on his cheek, the other on his forehead, feeling his temperature carefully. The patient sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes.

Frowning, doctor Sanders brushed a thumb over a pale forehead and cradled smooth skin and finely shaped bones. “Your face does indeed feel a little heated, Mr. - Patton.” He conceded.

It did? Must be the pleased blush that was spreading across his freckled nose and cheeks and made his ears redden.

“I should take your temperature in order to monitor your condition properly.” He muttered, already deep in thought and pulling his hands back. That would not do – Patton felt cold and alone the moment he was released and snatched his hands back quickly, to the surprise of the other. He wanted just a little more!

“Actually, I think my lymph nodes might be swollen, could you have a look as well? Pleeeease?” He begged prettily, batting his dark lashes at the taller man. Hiding his smile was hard upon spotting the way the attractive man ducked his head and cast his gaze down for a moment, clearly flustered. He was so adorable when he was awkward! Pat felt like squealing at him. The doctor should be used to Patton’s flirting and his attempts to get close, but he still indulged him every time, no matter how silly his reasons were. It gave the smaller man hope.

He was well aware of how silly his infatuation with this man was, of course. The doctor was – he was – amazing! Not only was he handsome in a classical way, with the pale skin of his aristocratic face contrasting so well with tidy, raven hair and with the way his tailored suit and vests complimented his trim waist and long legs. He was also the most intelligent and sweet man Patton had ever met! The first one came as a surprise to no one, of course. The clinic prided itself on the experts it employed, and doctor Sanders was one of their most prestigious employees. However, he seemed to appear rather arrogant and unfeeling to some patients Patton had talked to. Some had even called him cold. Ridiculous! How could they not see the way he went above and beyond for all of his patients, how he treated even the janitors who cleaned the hallways during the night with the same respect as the most esteemed colleague? How he was so attentive to Pat’s favorite nurse’s feelings and insecurities, how he was so kind to Roman and took him seriously when no one else would, no matter how loud and obnoxious he was being? And how he carefully picked every word he spoke to Patton, how he listened to all of his stories and worries alike and indulged him as much as he possibly could, no matter how silly he was being? Even now, he was nothing but lenient and adorable with him in his response!

“A-alright. It would not be prudent to neglect your worries.” He conceded. Patton beamed at him. Yes. This man was anything but cold. He was gentle and protective and perhaps even a little shy.

He was unashamed in showing his pleasure as the professional hands returned to his face, tilting his chin up this time and allowing gentle fingertips to press along the underside of his jaw. The former counselor shivered slightly at the intimate touch and closed his eyes once again in order to savor the sensation. Warmth flooded his body.

“Curious – your Submental and Submandibular nodes appear to be functioning normally.” The dark haired man mumbled, unintentionally allowing his patient to enjoy the deep baritone of his voice.

Oh! A happy thrill shot through Patton as he made a new discovery. The doctor had callouses across the index and middle finger, perhaps from writing so much with this fancy, dark fountain pen in his chest-pocket? He spotted new and interesting details every day! Patton felt lucky to be in the position he was in, felt like he could spend the rest of his life exploring this man – not only the long, elegant lines of his body, but also his little quirks, his reactions, the things he liked or that made him frown.

A sigh escaped him, as the cautious touch brushed along his jaw to his ears, where careful thumbs pressed down over the sensitive skin behind them, while large hands cupped his neck in a warm grip, keeping him still – as if he would want to be anywhere else in the world right now. He relaxed further as the man’s fingertips brushed the downy, curling hair at the back of his neck.

“The Retroauricular ones appear unaffected as well.” The doctor muttered, sounding less concerned and more exasperated.

Though his patient’s little white-lie must have become fairly obvious by now, he allowed his hands to slip further down, cupping the slender throat and feeling for swelling along the sides of Patton’s sensitive neck where his heart made his pulse thunder excitedly under thin skin. A shiver that must have been apparent to the attentive man ghosted over Patton’s skin, making him feel alive and naughty.

He grinned brightly up at the taller man as he was released, cheerfully chirping “Thank you so much, doctor! I feel so much better already – your treatment is hands down the best!”

The attractive medic scowled at him mildly but appeared to forgive his antics. Pat did not mind how obvious his flirting was, he had no time to waste to let the other known how he felt! When every day could be your last, you learned what mattered to you. And he liked being playful.

Just as the older man prepared to undoubtedly list all of the additional, boring precautions he would have to take, the door to his room was flung open dramatically, letting in a metaphorical gust of fresh, rainbow-colored air.

“Out of the way, peasants - this is an emergency!” The muffled voice of Patton’s favorite friend rang through the room. Roman’s tall form looked dashing in his magenta jacket and white shirt, whose low neckline exposed the tan skin over his collarbones and clung to his well defined upper body. His caramel hair fell in artfully tousled waves and his green eyes shone with passion. Half of his handsome face was also covered in his customary surgical mask.

“Thank the fairy godmother you are here, doctor Sanders! My condition is quite serious, you must have a look immediately!” He cried, flinging his designer bag on the chair next to the door and pulling his jacket off to uncover delightfully defined arms. His striking eyes showed pretty laugh lines at the corners as his covered lips pulled into a pleased smile upon spotting his friend.

“Patton, my doe – I am so glad I get to see you in my hour of despair! How are you, darling?” He hesitated in the process of dropping his expensive jacket onto the empty bed. “Are those sheets washed? Who was here before? Where they infectious?!” His voice grew higher in the end, as he shuffled away from the bed as if it would attack him with its diseased folds of unassuming, white fabric.

Patton beamed so hard, his cheeks hurt. “It’s fine, Ro! Just a lovely old lady with a broken hip, she was really sweet! Now come on over and give good old Patton a hug! I’ll make it better!”

Roman huffed tragically. “Not even your hugs can make me feel better, fair Patton! The situation is truly quite hopeless, I’m afraid! WHY are you just standing there, fix me!” He cried at the unfortunate doctor, waving his rubber glove encased hands at himself. He still hurried over to Patton after voicing his complaints though. What sort of man would turn down the most loving embrace on the planet in his final hours?

The lovely little patient immediately wrestled himself free from the covers and wrapped himself around the distraught author. Poor Roman curled into his arms, burrowing in. Patton ran his soft hands through lush curls and hummed tenderly, rubbing his smooth cheek against his friend’s perfect cheekbones. He giggled slightly as he considered how lucky he was to be surrounded by such handsome men! His friend did not have it easy though. His hypochondria made him see danger and illness at every turn and made him fear every little change in his body – he was quite the regular at the hospital. Thankfully since his first, anonymously published book had become such a huge success, he could afford to donate to the hospital and get all the special attention he wanted. Patton suspected his own preferential treatment might have to do with that as well, even though he could not prove it. His friend really was too good to him! He was so proud of Roman for how caring he was and how hard he worked on himself! His condition used to be so much worse, confining him to his sterile flat and leaving him frightened and stressed. All of that therapy had really paid off. Sometimes, Patton suspected he might have additional reasons for coming to the hospital so often. He pressed a kiss to all of that silky, well-groomed hair, just because his friend deserved more kisses and made him feel so protected and safe in his strong arms. Roman always made him feel like only sunshine and happiness existed in his arms.

A cough made them finally pull apart.

“Would you describe the symptoms, Mr. Prince?” Doctor Sanders requested stiffly. He had pulled a file out of his pile that was even larger than Patton’s. It sported a glittery rainbow sticker Roman had stuck on it defiantly a while ago, claiming its drab exterior was an insult to his fabulous nature. Its edge was scratched off before somebody had apparently given up on removing it.

“Ugh, finally! What do I have to do to get some attention here?! I am suffering dreadfully!” Roman cried. Ticking things off on his fingers, he laid out his theories after showing the reddish discoloration on his forearm. “I am sure it is either the Chickenpox, kidney failure or Leukemia. I am too attractive to die, you must do something!”

The serious doctor took a deep breath, internally counting to ten. “I believe I have advised you repeatedly not to enter your symptoms into online search engines. Their results have proven to be unreliable at best.” He chastised as he pulled on rubber gloves in deference to his patient’s fear of infection and grasped the distraught patient’s arm in order to examine it, just as the door was flung open again.

“It’s a xerosis.” A deep, scathing voice growled darkly. The man who had grumpily voiced his opinion was younger than all of them with his 21 years, and looked very annoyed indeed. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and his fierce glare, he was strikingly pretty with his purple hair, moonlight fair skin, fine-boned limbs and onyx eyes. Roman appeared to think so too, judging by the dreamy sigh that escaped him as his gaze traveled across the thin form. Until he remembered the rude remark thrown at him in such an unqualified manner!

“It is not!” He cried, deeply offended. “I am taking exceptional care of my skin, thank you very much!”

“You bathe too much in your fucking milk and rose-petal filled golden bathtub or something. Why are you still listening to this idiot?” The young nurse growled at the older doctor, crossing his arms over his purple scrubs. Their color was slightly mismatched to the darker shade of his hair. Nothing about the girly shade made him look feeble or soft though.

“Who made you a doctor?! Last time I checked, you were a naive little nurse whose job it is to see to my needs!” Roman exclaimed, flailing his arms grandly and nearly hitting his unsuspecting doctor.

“I don’t need to be one to know you are full of shit, prince prissy!” The young man growled.

Roman gasped, clasping a hand over his chest dramatically. “Prissy?! I bear the cruelest of fate like the brave prince I am, without complaint -”

Patton had started giggling helplessly, apparently reminding the author of the fact that he was currently in the process of complaining. Roman spluttered and chose to take a different approach to this rude little troublemaker.

“Just - be quiet and look pretty!” He ordered, turning up his nose at him.

The nurse groaned in exasperation. “It’s a xerosis. You are not.dying.” He emphasized, stalking closer on light soles like a graceful, grumpy cat.

“It is not and yes I am!” Roman wailed, growing even louder as the doctor finally managed to secure his flailing arm.

“Actually, nurse River’s assessment is very much feasible.” He uttered.

The nurse smirked infuriatingly as Roman deflated, before the dramatic man puffed up all of his metaphorical feathers like an angry, tiny bird, getting ready to chirp and protest. Doctor Sanders cut off the commotion before it could begin.

“Nevertheless, I shall run some test, to ensure your optimal health.”

“What – Seriously?!” The lithe nurse exclaimed, clearly exasperated. Roman obnoxiously preened at him.

Well used to the chemistry that made those two fight like cats and dogs, Patton chose to ignore their argument in order to greet his dearest nurse. He held his arms open and made grabby hands at the purple haired man with a pleading expression. “Don’t I get a hug, kiddo?” He asked, making sure to look extra pitiful.

Virgil sighed in exasperation. He could not believe how Patton’s large, innocent eyes had everyone wrapped around his little finger, including himself. He was usually insecure about physical contact with most people, but he could never resist those cuddles. They were so soft and safe. Stepping around the screeching idiot, he tentatively brought his arms up, only to be pulled against the smaller man and get squished in an adorning embrace.

Patton made sure to run his fingers through the perpetually tangled locks of his younger friend as he felt him melt in his embrace. It made warmth and love uncurl inside of him and made his little heart beat protectively against the thin chest pressed close. It had taken a long time to make the skittish nurse trust him enough to get so close, so he appreciated the shy hug even more. Virgil River reminded him of a stray cat – hissing and shy and defensive, until you managed to gain their trust. His affection was made all the more dear to Patton by being earned with so much coaxing and patience.

“I’m so happy to see you, kiddo! Are you sleeping enough? You look tired!” He mumbled into soft, purple locks. His roots were growing out – he spotted raven hair.

Trying to cheer him up, and perhaps get a smile out of the serious doctor, he perched his chin on the slender shoulder and joked, “Hey kiddo, when a hospital runs out of maternity nurses, do they have a mid-wife crisis?”

He started giggling at his joke even before he was done, letting his young friend feel the soft vibrations of his happiness. A startled laugh escaped the nurse before he clasped a hand over his mouth as if he should not be caught laughing. Patton allowed him to hide his face in his neck, cuddling closer. Roman chuckled behind them, whereas doctor Sanders looked bewildered by their hilarity. He appeared to require a moment to sort out the reason for their amusement. A groan showed his dawning understanding.

“Am I correct to assume the humorist value of your question is derived from the phonetic similarities between the words ‘mid-wife’ and mid-life’? How … entertaining.” The doctor uttered monotonously. He repeatedly, vehemently claimed not to enjoy Patton’s jokes, yet a little smile made his lips curl. Patton melted at the sight, sinking further against the curves and angles of Virgil’s body.

He wished he could bake some muffins for the poor baby as he ran his hands over his back in a soothing motion. He was so thin under his hands, Patton would feel the nobs of his spine! Despite their rivalry, he was sure Roman would love to take Virgil out to dinner every night and feed him and spoil him properly with gifts and compliments. The gentle giant just did not know what to do with his feelings and thus behaved in a less than calm fashion. Poor thing, so awkward, despite all of his charm. The thought made him smile softly at the author over a slender shoulder. He looked quite lovesick.

The flamboyant man’s feelings were a badly kept secret since he liked to rant a lot about the unnamed, pretty nurse with the insufferable temper and stunning eyes on his YouTube channel. He did not actually need to maintain it. His novels were applauded by fans and critics for their poetic beauty, their subtle metaphors, their loving descriptions of magical scenery and their heartbreaking and creative plots. Since Roman liked the aura of mystery surrounding him, he kept his name a secret. However, he had never been able to do well without attention. In the years he had mostly spent confined in his flat, reduced to experiencing adventures in the safety of his mind, he had not only written, but also built quite an impressive fan-base for himself online.

His videos were… not like his books, but rather loud, boisterous and shrill, with lots of glitter and sound-effects, make-up tips and gossip and storytelling, as well as loud and high pitched complaining. Though Virgil found them irritating, Patton adored them. Knowing both sides of the man helped him appreciate his emotional depth. He wondered why his friend had never told the nurse about his books. They were so sensitive and thoughtful, he was sure Virgil would fall hard for this side of the author. Perhaps he was shy of the way his writing exposed him to the world? He had once explained how his words laid him bare, how they made him vulnerable and left him unable to hide behind his make-up and groomed curls. Maybe he feared Virgil would not like his real character? It was such a sad, yet adorable idea. Patton wanted to hug him now – he wanted to pull both of them into a hug at the same time and hold them close, preferably with doctor Sanders wrapping his arms around all of them, safe and sound and together. What a wonderful idea! The quiet man made him feel so secure with his solid presence, he was so steady and calm and so careful with Patton, like a rock in the stormy ocean.

He pouted as his kiddo extracted himself from him finally, blushing hotly and glaring at Roman to discourage him from commenting. The older man looked like he was itching to take a picture, but feared for the safety of his manicured hands. Virgil was not only as cautious as a stray cat, he had the temper and sharp teeth to match. His fire and fierceness made him even more irresistible to the gentle artist. They were so utterly different, like all of the couples who overcame the greatest odds in this love stories he had adored as a child. How he yearned to tame his fearsome moods and seduce him into his strong arms. Their love would burn brighter than the stars themselves!

“You need anything, Pat?” The nurse mumbled quietly, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment at how obviously he had liked the cuddling. He was not usually this spunky, but despite his hair rather liked to blend into the background if he could get away with it. The insufferable hypochondriac just brought out the worst in him, he could not help the way his blood boiled when those green eyes settled on him.

“Awww you take such good care of me, kiddo!” The former counselor exclaimed sweetly. “It’s all good, I am as happy as a duck in the park!”

Virgil started to correct him but thought better of it. The confused frown on the doctor’s face entertained the nurse far too much. The poor man would certainly try to look up this figure of speech later that day to add this one to his vocab cards. He tried so hard. The moron.

“Okay, whatever.” He murmured softly, before turning to leave. He had patients to see to after all. Patients with real illnesses. He made sure to direct a fierce glare at the insufferable idiot. He hated him even more for the way he had to tilt up his chin – did he have to be so tall?! And handsome? His broad shoulders and defined arms made his character even more annoying for forcing Virgil to look. He snarled at the man for good measure. His warning did not seem to have the desired effect though. After taking a startled step back, the annoying attention-seeker crossed his arms and pouted visibly, even through the surgical mask.

“What about me?! Are you just going to leave me here, unattended and neglected?!” He wailed, hunching his shoulders like a child. Virgil hated him so much, he could not help the fire licking his insides hotly whenever the irritating man so much as opened his mouth. He made his body heat with an angry passion he had never known before. He yearned to get his hands on him to wring his tan neck. Especially when his hair fell into his eyes in soft curls, making him so obnoxiously attractive. Unable to help himself, he lashed out.

“Yes – whenever you enter a room I cannot wait to leave it, prince prig. You are the bane of my existence!” Virgil snarled, dark eyes flashing. He stuttered to a halt as the taller man’s eyes widened and became bright. Horror spread through him – had he actually injured the moron’s feelings?! He had thought he did not actually listen to anything he said anyway, he was just a little nurse after all. People forgot him the moment he left a room. He could not handle crying people, they were his biggest weakness. Guilt twisted his insides sharply, making his stomach turn. He had not meant -

“Fine! I don’t need your gloomy presence darkening the brightness of my magnificent character with your – your nasty, depressing, frustratingly pretty face! Leave this humble abode and let me shine my light on my fair Patton in peace, you soul-sucking villain!” He cried, turning his face away and swiping his arm at him as if he were a nasty fly. His jaw was tense under the mask. Virgil felt like his insides were twisting painfully. The dramatic idiot was always so loud and boisterous and over the top, it put him on edge like nails on a chalkboard. It made him forget that he had actual feelings under that ridiculous facade. In his annoyance, he had never considered he could actually hurt him. Twisting his scrubs in nervous, pale hands, he anxiously tried to find a way to make it better.

“Ahm, o-okay. I’ll – I can leave. Just – do you need anything, like – can I bring you anything? A pillow or - whatever?” He muttered. Even as he spoke, his face started heating. He wished the earth would swallow him whole! The theater nerd was always so eloquent, so educated and confident with the way his deep voice and large presence filled any room he stepped into, and here he was, bumbling and stuttering through his sentences. He felt very small and very insignificant. A pillow?! He was the biggest idiot – he knew he would be revisiting this scene in his mind over and over tonight, hiding under his blanket. Unconsciously, he started twisting his purple bangs in his slender fingers, curling them away from his face as if he were starting an elaborate braid. It was a nervous habit that gave him comfort – comfort he needed badly in his guilty state.

Roman’s face lit up though. A tenderness washed over his chiseled, half hidden features. His eyes were so warm suddenly. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize the other had already forgiven him. Ashamed of his temper he just could not seem to control, Virgil cast his eyes down, hugging himself. He could already feel his defensive, insecure anger build up and tried hard to suppress it. He could not fight in front of Patton, it would upset him!

Roman made it easy for him though. “A pillow would be lovely and surely ease my acute suffering.” He promised kindly, putting Virgil at ease by giving him some simple way to make up for his temper. It was awfully nice of him.

Apparently, he could not seem to help himself though.

“It will need to be disinfected cotton though, and not only the cover! Hospitals are breeding grounds for deadly diseased, I don’t know how you can stand the vile danger! Did you wash your hands before you touched Patton? I will not contract second-hand infections through your tardiness!”

Virgil growled, baring his teeth at the insufferable man. This – the familiar heat flooding him – was much easier for him to handle. He stormed outside, vowing to find a pillow he could wrack the man with. Preferably when he had forgotten about his request and he could sneak up on him. The thought of his startled yelping filled him with vicious pleasure.

Doctor Sanders stood in the center of the room for a long moment, looking lost, before he cleared his throat and inched towards the door. “I shall arrange a number of tests for you, Mr Prince. Mr F- Patton, if you would excuse me.”

Patton waved cheerfully at him, gigging at his adorable awkwardness. Then, he turned to his friend to help make him more comfortable like he always did. He was trained for it after all!

“Princey, why don’t you show me those cool nails, I’d love to see the new color!” He exclaimed, pointing to the shadow of nail-polish he could spot through the rubber gloves. Roman lightened up, climbing on the bed with his friend and pulling his gloves off, happy to finally have someone to share the things he enjoyed with. His eagerness to talk about something he loved helped him forget his fear.

“You have an excellent eye for beauty, Patton-mine! This divine shade of red is called ‘drop the gown’ and perfectly compliments the light reflexes of my luxurious hair in the sunlight, don’t you think?” He gushed, enjoying the soft hands on his skin, cupping his larger hands. He missed human contact whenever he was not with Patton.

“It does!” His faithful friend cooed, beaming at him. Roman melted. Patton always made him feel like everything would be okay. He felt like the other understood him, from his fears to his creative mind, which had entertained him in his lonely days. Both of them liked stories with a happy ending after all!

“Now stop holding out on me!” The author cried, flopping down next to his friend, putting them close together on the narrow bed. “What did I miss? Did Mrs Nesbitt’s triplets get another allergy? And did she finally ask that cute Immunologist out? Susan, right? They are simply meant to be!”

Patton was all too happy to fill him in on the gossip the nurses always shared with him when they drank tea with him. He leaned close to his taller friend, growing soft and pliant as he was pulled close. He loved curling against Roman’s chest! It was so broad and comfortable! They were quite similar, the two of them. Though their temper hardly matched, both had been unable to keep up with the quickly revolving worlds of the other children, Patton because he had been cautioned not to play their quick and exhausting games, and Roman because his mother had feared the common cold and a scrapped knee about as much as Pat’s mother had feared the failure of his little heart. Both had been forced to watch from afar. It had made Roman start writing down the adventures he wished he could have, which was utterly perfect, because Patton loved stores!

He made sure to share all of the juicy tidbits with his beloved friend, finally ending up on his side facing the large window with the glittering raindrops on lush leaves. Roman had settled in behind him, his large body and strong arms enveloping Patton and keeping him protected from the world. There was no feeling quite like being the little spoon. It was so safe and sheltered, with warmth surrounding him and affection and tender hands playing with his fingers making him drowsy. Roman’s hands were tan, due to his Mexican ancestors somewhere down the line. He had inherited the green eyes and caramel hair from his mother, creating a striking picture. He also worked out a lot at his flat, to get rid of all of that nervous energy. A young man like him should not be cooped up inside all day! Still, Patton liked the way he was built a lot because Roman could pick him up or carry him piggy-back style tirelessly.

When feeling safe and loved and content, he liked to make plans about what he could look forward to when he was finally out of the hospital, healed and strong and able to do all of the things he had only ever dreamed about! Of course, he shared those plans with his best friend.

“I would love to adopt a puppy! I would name it Mr or Mrs Floofer and we would play outside all day! Oh – and I want to go dancing when I get out of here! Would you teach me?” He gushed excitedly. “I’ve only ever danced around the flat for myself. Then I could go dancing in the rain. Just imagine the sunshine peeking through the clouds and painting rainbows onto the drops crowning doctor Sanders’ dark hair. He would blush adorably, but still hold me close so carefully – I want to make him smile, Roman! I want to twirl around with him and jump in puddles until he laughs. I’ve never heard his laugh.” He mumbled contemplatively, his lips curling with the idea, his chest feeling tight with longing. He wanted good things for the strict, quiet man. He wanted to be the cause of those things. He wanted.

“You really care for him, don’t you? It sounds like he is your awkward knight in white lab-coat.” Roman teased.

“He is! He really is.” Patton trailed off, picturing the warm gaze, the gentle hands. “He makes me feel so much, makes my heart beat so hard, like wings beating inside my chest. It feels so strong when he touches me, like I could take flight. He makes me feel so light.”

Roman hummed softly, dreamily, and nuzzled his face into honey-colored locks. Gathering his courage, he pulled his mask off to get closer and breathe his friend in.

“What else are you going to do?” He asked softly, reveling in the way Patton squealed as he heard his unmuffled voice. It made it worth the danger to his young and precious life.

“I’ll take you all to an amusement park! I want to try all the rides I could never go to!”

“An amusement park?” Roman lamented, already missing his mask again at the mere thought. “Where all the people are, trapped like rats in queues, touching everything and coughing on each other?!”

“Yes!” Patton giggled. “I want to look at all the lights and at the Disney castles and take pictures with you and the figures and hug all of the princesses! I want to buy cotton candy for Virgil!”

“Virgil would be coming?” Roman asked in a small, cautious voice.

“Of course! I’m sure he would go on all of the rides with me and to the water parks! And doctor Sanders would come, and he would hold my hand on top of a Ferris wheel. We would go at night, with the lights of the park beneath us and the stars above.”

Patton trailed off, lost in the image of the man he adored cradling his face – not to check the temperature but to lean in – and kiss him. He laughed at himself, knowing how naive and stupid he was being. What a silly fantasy. He had not even been told his first-name.

Roman held back a sad sigh. His heart felt heavy. Patton had so many plans, and he included all of them so lovingly. There was so much he had not done yet. His yearning to fulfill his wishes felt like a physical ache in his chest. His eyes burned.

“Can I ask you something?” Patton innocently interrupted his heavy thoughts.

“Of course, my sweetest friend! I cannot begrudge you the curiosity since I am truly fascinating!” Patton laughed adorably, blushing slightly at the nickname that made him giddy and happy.

“What do you feel when you see Virgil?” He finally asked, quieting to hear the answer.

Roman was silent for a long moment, bringing up a hand to play with his friend’s lightly curling hair, picturing the thin, pale face, the dark eyes – so quick and intelligent, weary and protective, the way he moved so gracefully, the way his half-smile transformed his whole face, like a sunrise that made the world look completely different with its warm, peach and orange light. Patton felt his heartbeat pick up where his back was pressed against the writer’s broad chest, beating strong and passionate. After a long moment, Roman spoke quietly, almost reverently.

“Like there should be music. Like violins should play for him when he moves. A sweet melody should rise and fall with his twists and turns through the room. He is so graceful when he walks, so light on his feet, as if he was dancing to the song only I can hear. So smart and brave and vulnerable and fierce. It’s like drums should make the air vibrate when he smiles, trumpets, drum-rolls and a choir singing for him, serenading him. And a quite piano in the background. Like there should not be silence, like he is too much – he makes me feel too much, makes my breath catch and my mouth dry and makes me want to sing. That is how I feel when I see him. Like there ought to be music.”

His deep voice trailed off, growing soft at the end. He was lost in thought. The gentle artist knew how he must sounds. Like an infatuated idiot, who had fallen for a pretty face and fancied himself in love with a man years his junior who he did not even know. He knew his feelings were foolish. And yet, the first time he had laid eyes on the fierce nurse, his fate had been sealed.

He had always known Patton was in danger. That he might lose him. He had tried to prepare himself for the possibility, had read up on his condition and tried his best to learn how to aid him, should his heart fail him. He would be his gallant protector, his brave, selfless guard! Many times he had envisioned the moment he would have to step in to save the courageous little life he was cradling in his arms at this very second, how he would push down on his chest to give him life, how he would gather him in his arms, how he would carry him to safety and win him the necessary time to find a heart for him. He had never truly allowed himself to believe in the possibility of failure. Until he had failed.

He had come to visit his small friend at this very institution, bringing flowers and his radiantly handsome self like the gentleman he was, braving disease and danger with nary a complaint.

An old couple had waited to be acknowledged by the receptionist, the lady leaning on her dark-skinned husband and lovingly whispering in his ear. Her hair had been pulled back in a strict bun with a tiny bird clip sitting in the middle, making it look like an actual nest. They had been so utterly precious, Roman had yearned to write about them. He had just approached them to offer them his place in the queue, when the man had suddenly doubled over, clutching his chest. His breath had been coming in short, wheezing gasps, his face reddening, his hands shaking. His frail wife had stumbled, threatening to fall without the support of her husband.

The flowers had been crushed under his heavy soles as he had lunged forward to catch the woman. Her husband had dropped to the floor like a dead weight. He had never been able to forget the sounds. His wheezing breaths, his body hitting the sterile floor, her terrified, desperate screams.

It was a scene he had practiced in his mind over and over again. He knew what to do. Knew all the motions by heart. Until he didn’t. His mind had been utterly blank. He had stood, uselessly, while the man had been dying at his feet.

He had only remembered one thought during the ensuing chaos. It could have been Patton. Patton, writhing in pain. Patton, helpless on the floor. Patton, dying right in front of him. Patton, failed by the man that loved him like a brother. His condition had become suddenly, terribly real.

Everything had changed in one, beautiful, inspiring moment.

“Move!” A dark voice had barked, pushing past other incompetent bystanders and falling to his knees in front of the man. His hands had been utterly sure of everything he had done, his voice loud and clear, giving commands and creating order. He had been fearless and strong like the knights Roman liked to fantasize about. His armor had been spun from purple thread, his shield created by his fierce glare, his sword his unfailing knowledge and confidence. He had dragged this sweet old man back from the brink of death with his sheer tenaciousness. His look had shown that he would not accept any other outcome. Roman had never seen anything like it. And he knew, the nurse had not only saved his patient.

Had this man actually died before his very eyes, Roman knew he would have given up hope. The cruel demonstration of the end that awaited his ray of sunshine would have broken the sensitive artist’s belief into jagged, sharp edges, leaving him desperately trying to salvage enough strength to put on a show of confidence Patton would see right through. Virgil had saved him. Saved his belief that things would turn out well, that heroes existed. He was Roman’s hero.

Patton was in awe as he listened. A slow, delighted smile dawned on his face. Roman’s words were so beautiful! It was so different from the way he felt for the doctor, who made him feel warm and safe and strong and weak at the same time, and wanting. So much more alive than he had been in such a long time – perhaps he made him feel alive for the first time. Yet it sounded utterly perfect for them.

“That is so pretty! You should orchestra a meeting and tell him. I am sure you’ll catch the right tune! And say Cello from me!” He giggled uncontrollably at his own puns, laughing until his sides hurt and his hummingbird-heart protested. Roman laughed with him but kept a wary eye on the monitor.

“I’ll be sure not to fail to tell him about his many merits in the most poetic language, fret not my lovely friend!” He boasted, tickling Patton with his warm breath at his neck and making him grin and squirm. “However, first I shall take you to a place that is much more magical than a dull amusement park, and that poses much fewer risks of infection, accidents and a gruesome death!”

Pat turned halfway in his embrace, eyes glittering. “And what would that place be?”

“The magical adventure park of the intergalactic kingdom of the fair stardust elves!” He exclaimed. Patton had always adored his stories. They were what had brought them so close, since both of them had had to rely on their fantasy as they had grown up. With a happy sigh, Patton settled in to hear Roman’s colorfully spun tail. It was like he was actually there, as the deep voice whispered in his ear and warm, golden sunlight bathed the bed they were curled up on. Patton closed his eyes and dreamed.

********************************************************

Next Chapter

#Logicality #Prinxiety #this author posts too many flower pictures

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authoressskr · 7 years ago

Text

Riding Shotgun

Written for: @sdavid09’s TaleTeller’s ‘What If’ Challenge

Characters: Sam, Gabriel, Dean, Castiel, John (Mentioned), Mary (Mentioned), Bobby (Mentioned), Lucifer, Michael (Mentioned), Adam, Azazel (Mentioned), God Squad

Tags/Warnings: Language, Canon Divergence (It’s a ‘What If’ Challenge, ya’ll), Supernatural-type violence

Summary/Prompt: What if instead of being Lucifer’s vessel, Sam was Gabriel’s vessel?

Tagging: @sdavid09 @lyndsay88

Notes: Thoughts/Prayers are in italics. Beta’d by @thewhiterabbit42

There are several things that Gabriel knows for certain: sugar-free was no way to live if you didn’t have a medical problem, he looked fabulous in every color, and Sam Winchester – second born of John and Mary Winchester – was his true vessel. True, Gabriel enjoyed this vessel--five feet eight inches of golden haired and golden-eyed, sugar-fueled sex god and Trickster-- but he could feel the tugging thrum of Sam’s being reverberate around him, calling out to him.

Fate had dealt an odd turn. Sam should have been Lucifer’s vessel, but Azazel had chosen the youngest one, Adam, to curse with demon blood. Maybe he saw something darker in the half-Winchester. All Gabriel saw was a cosmic joke… the kid with the name of the first human created is his big brother’s human-hating vessel? Classic.

And because Azazel hadn’t chosen Sam, Mary had survived. For a few months, at least. One vampire, hidden under the stairs surrounded by his nest’s drained victims, evaded death at Mary and another hunter, Jim’s, hands. And a week after their hunt ended, he showed up on Mary’s doorstep. They made quite a racket as they tumbled together at the entryway – John stumbling towards the sounds and trying to pull the crazed man off Mary as Dean began to shout “Mommy!” from the stairs.

“GO TO SAM’S ROOM AND LOCK YOURSELF IN!” John snapped the order to his four-year-old, and he used every military advantage to pull the man from his wife. Once he heard the man’s arm snap, the assailant turned to look at John, mouth stained red and dripping with blood. But what made John stare were the razor sharp, pointed teeth. Mary held a hand to her throat, pointing towards the umbrella holder. John scrambled for it while pinning the man down, but Mary had dragged herself the few feet to it and pulled out a machete. She shoved at John’s shoulder then brought the knife down, embedding the end into their floor and decapitating the man that John was kneeling over.

“Jesus, Mary. Honey, are you all right?”

“Hospital,” she murmured, clutching to his sleeve as he rose, holding her against him. “Get the boys. I’ll start the Impala.” John nods before shrugging off his robe and wrapping it around her.

“Keep the pressure on it,” He orders sternly before taking the stairs two at a time to his sons. He knocks softly, not wanting to startle his son anymore. “Dean, buddy, let me in.”

Obediently Dean opens the door a crack before stepping back into the room to allow his father entrance. Sam’s little wheeled crib is pressed against the wall by the closet, and Dean’s tiny blue plastic chair is seated in front of it like a guard.

“Good job, Dean. We’re gonna go for a drive, okay? Go get your shoes.”

He got Sam wrapped in a thick blanket and grabbed a few diapers and wipes before helping Dean into his shoes and leading them downstairs. He kept Dean on his right so he wouldn’t see the body still lying in their doorway.

He loaded the kids in the car carefully before speeding to the hospital.

It was that night that John discovered the dangerous side of the world. It was that night, he lost his wife due to severe blood loss from her neck and arm. It was that night that changed the Winchesters forever.

One choice on Azazel’s part had completely changed everything. Because he hadn’t made a deal with Mary, since John hadn’t died, he had no access to Sam. So, he had decided to wait. They all knew there would be three boys with Winchester blood. And they’re immortal beings, so what is another ten years of waiting?

He'd seen the Winchesters before, well “seen” in his head – in Heaven before he ditched the boxing ring his brothers had made it into, seen that it all led up to John and Mary, Dean and Sam. And Kate and Adam Milligan, of course.

If Adam hadn’t been born with a slight heart defect, his mom wouldn’t have made the deal. Keep her soul and save her son, all she had to do was let him in in ten years’ time. The next morning, Adam was cleared from the NICU and went home with a healthy heart.

Decisions. Decisions. That’s what it really boiled all down to, Gabriel supposed. Dad had given the world free will.

And as usual, it had come to bite Gabriel in the ass.

First off, the professor deserved it. Ask anyone who has ever played Clue or failed a class.

The frat boy got his just desserts simply for the fact that Gabriel didn’t like bullies. And he was already on campus, so why not spread the love?

The scientist who was testing on animals – innocent animals! – got his comeuppance by sewer alligator, which Gabriel still chuckled over to this day.

It really was just a bonus that Sam and Dean had been at each other’s throats those few days. Part of him found it entertaining. Truthfully, it made most of him prickle with anger. It brought back too much of the beginning of the end for him. In the first few fights his brothers had picked, in the first barbed words. He hated himself because he knew far too well how this could snowball out of control.

At first, his screwing with the Winchesters was just because he could – a way to pass the time before the big bang. Partly because they wanted to stop his games. Mostly because they naïvely thought they could stop destiny. Could deny the roles they’d been assigned.

Which had led to this, uh, conundrum, he was currently in.

“It all comes down to you and me, Sammy,” Gabriel snarked, arms wide open in the circle of holy oil the Winchesters had him trapped in.

“It’s Sam. And no, it doesn’t. I’m not saying yes to you – I’ll never say yes to you, Gabriel.”

“Oh, Sammich, you’ll say yes. Desperation. That noble righteousness you and your brother are so big on. Maybe you just wanna experience a nice white sand beach before Armageddon.” He gets no reaction from either brother, or his own. “Personally, I say we light this candle!” Gabriel huffs a laugh, grinning at the three men in front of him. “Michael is gonna do whatever he can to get big bro to say yes. Oh, and Lucifer is going to con and manipulate his way into the little half a Winchester. There ain’t no stopping this show, boys.”

“Then why do we need you exactly? You’re just a runaway with daddy issues,” Dean snapped.

Gabriel pointed to himself. “Pot.” Then he pointed to Dean. “Kettle.”

Dean just clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“Listen here buckos, there is no stopping this. I’m sorry – I really am. But you aren’t going to find Daddy,” Gabriel spared a bored look to his little brother. “And you can’t stop this. Lucifer is gonna ride Adam’s ass either way. He’ll face Michael. And then, well then only one of them will walk away from this winner-takes-all showdown.”

“Heaven or Hell, which side you on?” Dean’s tense voice is more accusatory than questioning.

“I’m not on either side.”

“Yeah right. You’re grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer, which one is it?”

Gabriel clenches his fist briefly, too quickly for the Winchesters to catch. “You listen to me, you arrogant dick. I don't work for either of those SOBs. Believe me.”

“Hmm. Well you’re somebody’s bitch.”

Gabriel’s lip raises in a snarl at Dean’s words.

“Shut your cake-hole. You don't know anything about my family. I loved my father, and my brothers. Loved them! But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again. I just want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my brothers kill each other, thanks to you! Heaven, Hell, I don't fucking care who wins!” He can hear the tiredness in his own voice at the last line, he feels it trickle down his entire being and drain the well-placed mask he’s worn for so long.

And it’s the Dad’s honest truth – he’s tired. Of hiding, of lying, of waiting. The Winchesters twenty some-odd years is nothing compared to the millennia he’s logged, aching for home and for his family. For something that he can never return to. For something he knows he can never return to.

“Help us then. You can help us stop this.” He looks at Sam, takes in his words, and grimaces. There’s a spark of hope in those hazel eyes and so much determination to stop this. They’ve convinced Adam not to say yes – for now. Gabriel sighs, he knows the outcome. He’s known all along.

“It’s destiny. I'm sorry. But it is.” His voice is softer now, sadder. “Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real. And it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be.” And then Gabriel watched his true vessel, Dean and baby brother Castiel walk away. “Uh... okay. Hey, guys? So, so what? Huh? You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?” Dean paused at the door, leveling Gabriel with a harsh stare.

“No. We're not. Because we don't *screw* with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you bein' too afraid to stand up to your family!”

Gabriel glared at the eldest Winchester, watched as he pulled the fire extinguisher system and the flames slowly died all around him.

“Don't say I never did anything for you!”

A handful of months later he feels that tingle, the one that spreads terror into his gut. Shit.

Adam had joined Team Winchester simply to try to buy himself some time from being the Devil’s new clothes. But it was Sam’s disjointed thoughts Gabriel heard echoing in his head that concerned him.

“This is the nicest place we have EVER stayed at.”

Gabriel locked onto his location fairly quickly.

“Hit the road. Fucking biblical type storm. Pie. Nowhere. Norman Bates. Elephant.”

Fuck. Gabriel could sense the gathering, all those gods. Kali had told him they were meeting, but now he had to go to pull Sam’s ass outta the fire. Lucifer wouldn’t harm his brother’s vessel or his own – he needed them. But he didn’t need Sam. There was a chance he would just use Sam to get Dean to say yes, and he couldn’t have that either.

“Rats in a maze.”

Gabriel hated not having options. Backing an archangel into a corner was not wise.

Plus, where here the hell was Cas? Gabriel pops into Muncie, Indiana using his Grace to keep him from prying eyes.

“Please be tomato soup. Please be tomato soup.” All three brothers scoff before Sam heads to the freezer door. “Motel hell.”

“Help us! Get us out!”

“Hurry up!” Adam shouts, moving forward with Dean help Sam.

“I’m going as fast as I –”

“There’s somebody behind me, isn’t there?” And with that, they are all unceremoniously dragged into the Grand Ballroom.

“We are so boned,” Adam sighs before one of the men shoves him down into a seat.

“Gods?” Sam repeats as the dark haired man begins to go over the ground rules. “Oh, we are so, so screwed.”

As the gods argue, Dean looks surprised while Adam is pretty much broadcasting that this is pretty par for the fucking course. Sam’s mind is trying to recall as much lore as possible as they argue before looking to his brothers and rising slowly from their seats, the chandelier crashing suddenly to block their escape.

“Stay.” Kali orders, glaring at the brothers before looking at the gods seated around her. “The archangels – the only thing they understand is violence.”

Well, for the most part she’s not wrong. Damnit, now he was gonna have to step in.

He uses his Grace to throw open the doors of the ballroom before waltzing in.

“Can’t we all just get along?”

“Gab –” He quickly silences all three Winchesters, smirking mask set firmly in place.

“It’s always wrong place, worst time for you muttonheads.” Stepping between Sam and Dean.

“Loki.” Baldur states with calm annoyance.

“Baldur. Good seeing you, too. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.”

“Why’re you here?” He asks, standing.

“I’m here to talk about the elephant in the room.” Ganesh starts to rise. “Not you. The Apocalypse. We can’t stop it, gang. But first things first.” Turning around to face the three men, he meets Sam’s gaze briefly. “The adults need to have a little conversation. Check you later.” And snaps them back to their room.

“Gabriel! Next time I tell Dean to keep driving…! Shit. This is so screwed. So, deeply, uber, armageddon screwed. Gabriel! Get your feathered ass here now!” The thoughts which are normally articulate, nerdy, or planning are disjointed as Sam is conversing with his brothers. So much so that Gabriel is having trouble hearing this thoughts, talking the gods down and trying to overhear their actual verbal conversation now that all three of their brains are lighting up with adrenaline and keep shouting his name.

“Gank a few freaks along the way if we’re lucky.” Seating himself comfortably on the couch behind Dean – Mercury really outdid himself cushion-wise, he made a mental note to mention that to him. If they all lived long enough, that is… Noting the youngest Winchester’s seated position on the bed – is that as comfortable as this couch? – his blonde head in his hands.

“And when are you ever lucky?” Dean turns to face Gabriel while Adam simply lifts his head from his hands.

“Oh, you know what? Bite me, Gabriel.”

“Maybe later, big boy.” And he shoots a wink at Sam, who just clenches his jaw.

“I should have known –” Dean begins, gesturing towards the room.

“Maybe you guys could stop for two minutes?” Adam snaps, looking from Dean to Gabriel.

“Hey, look, it has a backbone! More Winchester in you now than wimp, huh?” Standing from the couch, he’d definitely would need to pop one of those into his hideout, Gabriel sighed at the situation. “Listen here, I’m the Costner to your Houston. I’m here to save your ass.”

“You want to pull us out of the fire?” Adam asks, bracing his hands on his knees.

“Bingo!” Gabriel smiles triumphantly before glancing at Sam once more, whose thoughts have just turned from what is going on to what is he up to and how is this supposed to help? “Those gods are either gonna dust you – which the God Squad won’t tolerate – or use you as bait.” Gabriel curls his middle and ring fingers down, gesturing to the boys. “Either way, you’re uber-boned.”

“Wow – ‘cause a couple months ago you were telling us that we need to play our roles.” Dean shifted from one foot to the other, planting himself more firmly between Gabriel and Sam. Maybe it was unconscious, maybe it was just that Dean always had to protect Sam. All Gabriel knew is it was pointless.

“Michael and Lucifer are gonna dance the Lambada. But not tonight. Not here.”

“And why do you care?” Dean’s question surprises Gabriel. He shouldn’t care. Really his only concern should be getting Sam to say yes or hiding away on a private island surrounded by women of all shapes and sizes in skimpy bathing suits. Not here. Certainly not trying to save his little broken adoptive family.

“I don’t care.” They all look unconvinced. “But, me and Kali, we, uh…had a thing. Chick was all hands.” No one was going to appreciate that pun. All hands? Come on! “What can I say? I’m sentimental.”

“Sam, you gotta listen to me. Convince Dean to leave. Lucifer WILL turn them into fingerpaint. You know I’m not lying to you, Sammich.”

“Do they have a chance? Against Satan?” Sam steps forwards, towering over his current vessel.

“Really, Sam?” Dean sneers.

“You got a better idea, Dean? I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?” Adam shifted his gaze from Dean to Sam, landing on Gabriel.

“It's a bad idea. Lucifer's gonna turn them into finger paint. So let's get going while the going's good, hmm?”

“O.K. Great, why don't you just zap us outta here then?” Dean rolls his eyes, exasperated.

“Would if I could, but Kali's got you by the short and curlies. It's a blood spell. You boys are on a leash.”

“Well that’s just great. So glad we cleared that up,” Adam groans, letting himself fall back onto the bed.

“Okay, yeah. Well, whatever. Well, we're gonna take the hors d'oeuvres in the freezer with us.”

“Forget it. It's gonna be hard enough sneaking you mooks outta here.”

“We can’t just leave them,” Adam interjects as Sam glares at Gabriel.

“They called you Loki, right? Which means they don't really know who you are?” Dean ventures and Gabriel doesn’t care for the new direction this is heading in.

“Told you. I'm in witness protection.”

“O.K., well then how about you do what we say, or we tell the, uh, legion of doom about your secret identity. They don't seem like a real pro-angel kinda crowd.”

He takes a step closer to the eldest Winchester who now realizes he has Gabriel in a corner. “I'll take your voices away.”

“We'll write it down.”

Another step closer, his golden eyes boring into the emerald ones. “I'll cut off your hands.”

“Well then, people are gonna be asking, "Why are you guys running around with no hands?"

“Fine.”

Gabriel went to seduce the blood off of Kali (which didn’t work well – ended up her collecting his blood too, Daddammit)…now Gabriel, Archangel, Messenger of the Lord, Loki and the Trickster was bound to Kali by blood. Funny, he hadn’t seen that coming. Maybe his charm was wearing off? Nah, that couldn’t be it. Kali has him march obediently back to the ballroom and not five minutes later the Winchester trio was tossed unceremoniously in as well.

“Well, surprise, surprise. The Trickster has tricked us.”

“Kali, don’t.” Gabriel warns. But he knew he’d be outed sooner or later. This just isn’t how he pictured it really.

“You're mine now. And you have something I want.” Her red painted nails press familiarly against his chest before sliding into this jacket, her hand wrapping firmly around his blade. “An Archangel's blade. From the Archangel, Gabriel.” She’s waiting for an answer from him. Like he should soap opera gasp and fan himself like a real southern lady.

“Okay, okay! So, I got wings. Like Kotex.” He pauses a half second, his gaze meeting her’s. “But that doesn't make me any less right about Lucifer.” And then Kali rammed the blade into his chest and white-gold light spilled from his eyes and mouth and Gabriel, last Archangel son of the Lord, slumped into his chair.

---

Sam felt a flicker of something as Gabriel died, but couldn’t quiet place the moment as Adam shouted “No!” beside him. Dean took a deep breath and rose, now out of angelic help to help kill Satan.

“Alright you primitive screwheads, listen up.” Dean began, wiping his hand over his mouth.

“Are you outta your mind?” Sam half-whispered, looking nervously at his big brother.

“You’re surprised?” Adam sighs out, but his body is just as tense as Sam’s.

“I'm outta options, Sammy. Now on any other given day, I'd be doing my damndest to, uh, kill you. You filthy murdering chimps.”

“Oh good, insult the things that could kill us,” Adam mutters under his breath, but Sam catches it and really, he does have a point. But it was a hell of a situation they were in.

“But, uh, hey, desperate times. So even though I'd love nothing better than to slit your throats, you dicks, I'm gonna help you. I'm going to help you ice the devil. And then we can all get back to ganking each other, like normal. You want Lucifer, well, dude's not in the Yellow Pages. But me, Sam and Adam, we can get him here.”

“How?” Kali asks, looking from Dean who tossed back a generous gulp of whiskey to Gabriel’s body then back to Dean.

“First you let those main courses go. Then we talk. We can either take on the devil together, or you lame-ass bitches can eat me. Literally.”

Sam and Adam both huffed out an annoyed breath, but rose to stand beside Dean as Kali and Baldur share a look before nodding.

“Fine.” Baldur agrees before he gives a wave of his hand to dismiss the other gods. “You’ll return here after you’ve released the entrees.”

Sam clenches his jaw at the way Baldur refers to the people, but follows behind Dean as Adam stands nervously by his chair.

Sam picks the lock a lot faster now that he knows what to do and ushers the people from the freezer to Dean who is waiting in the lobby to herd them out. Once he finishes he joins Adam in the ballroom, waiting for Dean.

---

“Come on everybody! Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go. Alright, alright, go, go, go! Get outta here!” Dean looks around a tad bit suspicious before he hears it again. It’s coming from the Impala.

“Psst! Dean! Don't look at me! Act natural. Get in.” Dean rolls his eyes but opens the driver’s door and slides in. He turns to address the archangel in his backseat, looking him up and down.

“Man, there is nothing natural about this at all. I thought you were dead.”

“You think I'd give Kali my real sword? That thing can kill me!”

“Then what do they have in there?” Gabriel grins at his own genius.

“A fake! Made it out of a can of diet orange Slice. So, uh, go snag our blood, would ya?”

“What?” Gabriel slides from behind Sam’s seat closer to Dean, his tone a little louder.

“I heard you in there. Kali likes you. You can get close. Lift the plasma, then we vamoose.” Dean clears his throat at Gabriel’s plan.

“No. Hand over the real blade. Better yet, why don't you sack up and help us take down Lucifer.”

“You can't be serious?” Gabriel gaffs at him.

“Deadly.” Dean’s face is that perfected mask of seriousness his father had usually worn and he couldn’t seem to shake now.

“Since when are you butt buddies with a bunch of monsters? That's all they are to you, aren't they?” His sarcasm was alive and well, glaring at the hunter.

“Alright, you know, Sam was right. It's nuts but it's the best idea I've heard, so unless you have a better one?” Dean raised his eyebrow slightly at the Norse god.

“Well, good luck with that.” Gabriel scoffs. “Me? I'm blowing Jonestown. Those lemmings wanna run off a cliff, that's their business.”

“I see right through you, you know that? The smart-ass shell, the whole “I could give a crap” thing? Believe me, it takes one to know one.”

“That so Dr. Phil?”

“Yes. And maybe those freaks in there aren't your blood but they are your family.”

“They just stabbed me in the friggin heart!” The archangel exclaimed, shifting away from Dean in the backseat.

“Maybe, but you still give a crap about 'em, don't you?”

“Dean.” It’s almost a plea rather than the admonishment Gabriel was going for.

“Now they're gonna die in there, without you.”

“I can't kill my brother.” Gabriel admits. He feels it deep down, that’s a fight he doesn’t want. His brother taught him, teased him, sided with him against Michael and Raphael. He can’t kill Lucifer.

“Can't or won't?” Dean watches Gabriel’s golden eyes flitter down. “That's what I thought.” And shoves the Impala door open and leaves Gabriel pondering his decisions.

---

“So you're going to summon Lucifer.” Kali states rather than questions, raising a delicately arched black eyebrow.

“Sort of. I just need you to squeegee some stuff from my ribs and he'll come running.” Adam answers, waving a pale hand in front of his chest. Sam smirks at his answer.

“Breaking them would be easier.” Kali replies, Adam and Sam’s eyebrows shooting up before Sam’s settled into his trademark bitchface. Dean swaggers into the room, and Sam knows it isn’t good news by the set of his mouth.

“Show's over. Sword's a fake, and Gabriel, he's still kicking. I hate to break it to you, sister, but you've been tricked.”

Baldur clenches his jaw before looking down at Kali. The lights around the ballroom begin to flicker, the fear palpable as everyone knows what this heralds.

“It’s him.” Adam swallows hard, shifting to his left to get a tad farther from the doors.

“How?” Kali snaps, annoyed.

“Does it matter? Shazzam us outta here, would ya?” Dean tells more than asks, looking from Kali to Baldur.

“We can’t.” Baldur replies before the doors swing open to reveal Lucifer Morningstar.

“Of course you can’t. You didn't say "mother, may I?" Sam, Dean, Adam, good to see you again.” Adam stares at Lucifer, his vessel is peeling and spotty, and now, covered in blood splatter thanks to the unseen carnage lying just beyond them in the hall. Baldur shifts, straightening his posture while glaring at the archangel.

“Baldur, don't.” Kali warns softly, but Baldur moves forward anyway, anger radiating from the Norseman.

“You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?” Sam wants to yell to Baldur that he is too close, but before he can even form the complete thought, Lucifer’s hand is sticking out of Baldur’s back, ripping him apart from the inside.

“No one gives us the right, we take it.” Lucifer even gives his fingers a little wiggle before shoving him down and off his hand.

Kali’s sharp features turn from concerned to enraged, flames licking from her hands up her arms. She throws her hands forward, sending the flames hurtling at Lucifer, Sam and Dean tossing Adam over the table for cover before jumping over themselves. They hear a few more loud thumps, flinching at the sounds before looking at each other.

“You okay?” Sam asks, looking from Dean to Adam.

“Not really. Better late than never, huh?” Sam is startled by Gabriel appearing to his left besides Dean. He tosses a dvd box at Sam before clasping Dean on the shoulder. “Guard this, with your life.” Gabriel rises, Angel Blade grasped tightly in his hand as his big brother is blown backwards through the Grand Ballroom’s doors.

“Lucy, I’m home.”

Be careful, winged ass monkey. Sam prayed, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat as he looked to his brothers, who rose up carefully as Gabriel eased towards Kali, sprawled on the floor.

“Not this time.” Gabriel wrapped his free arm around her waist, hauling her upright and letting the Winchesters fall in line behind him. “Guys! Get her outta here.” He pushes her towards the door and gives one last look not at Kali, but at Sam.

That’s Mr. Arch winged ass monkey, Sammikins. Gabriel snarks back, turning to face his big brother.

“Over a girl. Gabriel, really? I mean I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything.” Is the last thing Sam hears as they make their way down the hall, carefully avoiding as much of the slaughter as they can in their haste to get to the Impala.

“I'm not getting in that thing.” Kali’s voice is loud in the silence of the night, the only noises being made are their footfalls on the wet concrete and the squeak of the driver door as Dean pops it open.

“Just get in the car, princess.” His tone is commanding, and yeah – a bit arrogant for Kali’s tastes, but they have to put miles between them and Lucifer and they all know it. Gabriel is buying them time and it’s too precious to waste.

Sam opens the door for Kali as Adam climbs into the back seat behind Dean. Baby’s motor starts and Dean scans the lobby and surrounding area one last time. Just before Sam slips inside the car, he pauses. He can hear Gabriel inside: “Because Dad was right. They are better than us.” And then once he’s sitting in the front seat, shotgun, where he belongs – beside Dean – he hears a question, so softly he almost misses it.

Won’t you be my neighbor?

It’s so corny, yet so vulnerable and Sam knows, just knows that Gabriel isn’t going to walk away from this. His bag of tricks against Lucifer are limited and he’s just buying as much time as he can for him.

Yes. He prays back, before it feels like his whole body is a livewire – he feels like he’s moving too much, like he’s bouncing down a rough back road at high speeds and at the same time his whole body’s got a numbness to it, like full body novocain. Then Sam blinks and it’s over. What felt like at least a handful of minutes is in reality an outpouring of milliseconds. He doesn’t feel different, not really. But something is off. Then he hears Gabriel’s voice, like he’s perched, arm’s folded with his head propped on top of his wrists, on the back of the bench seat Sam’s sitting on. Sam nearly turns to, then reminds himself that the car is silent. No one has said a word.

It’s another fifty or so miles before Kali barks out an order to pull over. When Dean does, he grabs her wrist before she can disappear.

“Blood.” The four vials appear in her hand and she crushes them then flames burst from her palm, engulfing the shards and liquid. Then she simply disappears. And while they can’t take a deep breath yet, they push on until day breaks and they’re close to the state line. Dean asks for Sam’s laptop and pops the dvd in that Gabriel had wanted them so badly to keep safe.

A red screen appears, scrolling credits while cheesy “porno music” plays in background.

“Oh Jesus.” Adam mutters as the title appears. Casa Erotica 13. Dean wrinkles his forehead and looks at Sam, who just gives a small shrug. How the hell was he supposed to know what this was? Although, knowing what they knew about Gabriel, this wasn’t anything they shouldn’t have expected. He is, after all the guy who put them on a Japanese gameshow that hit Sam in the balls. Hard.

“Dear Diary, being a high powered business president is super-fun. But sooo exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica.

“Room Service!”

“Come in!”

“Gabriel wanted us to guard this with our lives?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrows as the woman sits up on the bed.

“Maybe he's a fan. It is a good one.”

“Really, Dean?” Adam sighs before looking back to the screen. And as the door open, there’s Gabriel, Messenger of the Lord, Archangel, and Trickster, wearing a fake mustache and a service waiter’s outfit, big silver tray held aloft in one hand.

“I've got the kielbasa you ordered.”

“Ooh. Polish?”

“Hungarian.” Gabriel tosses the dish onto the mantle, it clattering to the floor as he moves into the room. Adam looks at Sam, then Dean as they hear Gabriel and the woman kissing and giggling. All three Winchesters look disturbed and even Dean is rethinking the whole porn loving aspect of his life in this moment. Then the giggles turn to moan from both of them.

“What the hell's going on?” Sam tosses up a hand in exasperation, gesturing towards his laptop.

Right after he asks, Gabriel turns to the camera, removes his mustache and smiles.

“Sam, Dean, Adam. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on.” Then there’s laughter, light and just a dash of actual humor in it, rolling through his mind.

Gabe? Had he been just saying goodbye earlier in the car? Had Sam not said yes quick enough?

“Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us.”

Dean looks at Sam and Sam knows it’s because Dean was hoping for a different outcome if Gabriel fought with them to stop Lucifer. Now they had no chance to ice the Devil.

“Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer, sorry! But can trap him. The cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open, trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?”

Adam looks excited at this prospect. He doesn’t want to be Satan’s vessel anymore than Dean wants to be Michael’s.

“And here's the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn't even know -- the key to the cage? It's out there.” They all exchange a look. “Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen.”

Well, fuck.

“You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you boys. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before.”

They all take a deep breath. At least it’s a new plan – a new way to stop the end of the world.

“And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, not any more.” Gabriel rises, puffing his chest out a tad as that shitty smirk rolls across his features. “So this is me, standing up.” Sam grimaces cause he can guess where this is going. “And this is, me, lying down.” Gabriel turns, lifting the woman with ease and tossing her onto the bed before leaping on top of her. Clothes begin to fly as they both moan in tandem and Sam slams his laptop closed.

Don’t worry, Samsquash, you saved my feathery Kotex ass.

Holy shit. Does - does Lucifer think he killed you?

Uh yeah. I am the Trickster.

So, you gonna help now?

Not like I got anywhere else to go, Sammy.

“Horsemen, huh? Well we got War’s. We nicked Famine’s. That’s two down. Collect all four?” Dean lays out, rapping his knuckles on the Impala’s hood twice. “All we need is Pestilence and Death.”

“Oh, is that all?” The sarcasm is oozing from Adam as he runs a hand over his face.

“It’s a plan.” Dean assures him as Sam plucks his laptop from the roof, and climbs into the passenger seat.

Do you know where Pestilence is?

Find a dickwad demon and then follow that trail. Sorry – Gabriel yawns – I’m a little outta juice. We’ll pick this up later, Sammich.

Angels don’t sleep.

No, but I gotta recharge the batteries. Faking one’s death, making a porno, and jumping aboard the good ship Samuel is a lot of work.

Fine.

Hey, Sam?

Yes, Gabriel?

You gonna tell your bros I’m riding shotgun?

Not right now.

I know how you boys are with secrets, might as well rip this band aid off.

Aren’t you supposed to be resting?

10-4 on that, Sammy. Lying to the bros. Gabriel out.

Sam rolled his eyes as they drove towards the nearest motel to rest and call Bobby with this new information, looking out the window. How was he supposed to tell Dean and Adam that Gabriel wasn’t dead, but was now inside Sam? Something they had all sworn not to do? Sam rested his head against the window as greenery flew by and he was happy, at least for a moment. Gabriel wasn’t the nicest angel, but he had come back and bought them time. Whether he liked it or not, Gabriel was now firmly Team Winchester and it was sort of nice, Sam thought, that they had Castiel and Gabriel to watch over them and help.

I always knew you were a softie.

Shut up, Gabriel.

Maybe Sam had thought that too soon.

#taleteller's what if challenge #what if challenge #what if Gabriel's true vessel was Sam Winchester #Supernatural #spn #authoressskr writes #gabriel #sam winchester #dean winchester #adam milligan #hammer of the gods #maybe a part 2 later

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