Work Text:
To be human is to love
Even when it gets too much
We're not ready to give up
-----------
He's stumbling and cursing and it's no use. He isn't fast enough, he can't get there quick enough.
Instead, the former archangel is thrown to the ground, explosion cracking, blood pounding, heart racing. He looks up and you've braced yourself against the cabinet, shielding your head from the splinters hurtling through the air.
He screams your name but it's lost in the cacophony when a second explosion erupts to his left.
Somehow he registers your command to get down and cover his head, somehow he doesn't see you scramble to your feet and tear through the rubble towards their assailant. Somehow, when he next lifts his head, you're at his side with a kind smile and an outstretched hand.
"You okay?"
He can barely register the sound of your voice, disoriented and lost beneath the ringing residue in his ears. He can offer little more than a nod, slowly shifting to a seated position.
"What was that?"
"A werewolf with a loaded armory."
"I guess you don't see that very often." It's a nervous chuckle, something to give him time to process, to calm the storm within.
"No, not usually." You stand, casting a glance towards the door before settling y/e/c on Gabriel, "can you stand?"
His nod is shaky, but he manages to accept the hand outstretched and hoists himself to his feet. Muscles tense and tendons scream as he struggles to get his bearings.
Humanity--how in his Father's name had they learned to cope with distress. Everything seems to be in slow motion as legs cave and suddenly he's collapsing back to the floor. Were it not for your arm looped around his waist and a solid stance, knees would have met cement long ago.
When whiskey finally settles on your features, he offers a weak smile, "Sorry, I--"
"--it's okay. Just focus on staying on your feet. Let's get you to the car and get out of here. It's gonna be all right."
A brief nod and the two of you begin your trek out to your car, a journey that takes far longer than what the archangel would like.
He's human, a mortal doomed to the same state of existence as his father's creations. When he was resurrected by his nephew, he never imagined returning graceless, at least, powerless for the foreseeable future.
Castiel assures him his grace will replenish, but it could be months or millennia before he returns to full strength.
Now he's left at the mercy of monsters, demons and cranky Winchesters alike. His only saving grace is you and the warmth you provide in his dreary existence.
You don't know how he feels, you've never known. He promised himself when he woke up in the Empty that he would tell you as soon as he got back. He hasn't--he can't. Not yet. He isn't ready and your answer is what scares him the most.
And now, with your body pressed so close to his, he wards off as many human hormonal reactions as he can.
He's lost in his thoughts as the engine roars to life and when glazed hazel finally find their way upwards, you're parking the car just outside the bunker.
"Are you okay to walk?" You question, quietly gauging the intensity in which his eyes are locked on the windshield.
He blinks once. Twice. A third time before honey settles on you and he can breathe again. "Yeah, might need some help with the stairs though. You know, the excessive death hazards that they are."
He tries, dear Father, does he try to offer a reassuring smile, but the upwards twitch of his lips seem more like a grimace to your seasoned eyes.
"Right, well, let me help you out of the car. You've probably stiffened up."
"No, it's fine--" the former archangel opens the car door and attempts to swing his feet out, only to find every muscle, every tendon in his legs protests any sort of movement.
There's an exasperated sigh before he turns with a sheepish grin towards your skeptical expression, "I think I could use some help."
"Hang on, feathers." You snort, climbing out of the driver's seat and starting towards the passenger's side.
Your fingers curl around his and he's tugged unceremoniously to his feet, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steady uncertain legs.
"Take it slow. Your very mortal body isn't used to being thrown around." You secure an arm around his waist and kick the car door closed.
"And yours is?"
You pause, seemingly considering his query before smirking and nodding, "Yep."
"How?"
"We don't have fancy grace to heal our every cut and bruise. Our bodies adapt, recover and become stronger. One of the perks of being human, feathers."
Gabriel snorts indelicately but offers little response beyond turning his eyes downcast to focus on walking on what you had informed him was probably a torn ligament.
It isn't until the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs--a feat that took close to thirty minutes--that Gabriel asks the inevitable question: "When's Cas getting back?"
"Tomorrow night. The boys just texted to tell me they wrapped up the case and are spending the night. Personally, I think they just want to take Jack to the amusement park in the morning."
"The place is what? Seven hours away?"
"Yep." You nod, tossing your gear onto the table and turning to face the pouting archangel. "Cas'll patch you up when he gets back. For now, let's get you off that leg and ice it up."
"I'd rather not--"
"Gabriel." Your tone left little room for argument, "I've been human a hell of a lot longer than you have. So, get your ass out of that chair and let's get you to your bedroom."
"Y/N, come on. I can wait here for Castiel."
"He's not coming home until late tomorrow night. You really want to wait more than 24 hours in that chair?" You gesture to the dated wood, the chair already causing painful jolts to run up Gabriel's bruised spine.
"Fine." He holds his hand out reluctantly, a gesture accompanied by an eye roll.
"On your feet, feathers." There's a triumphant smile and every ounce of contempt melts away from the former Messenger of God when his body collides with yours.
Y/e/c meets glistening whiskey and for a brief moment, time seems to stand still. For a brief moment, all he can feel, all he can see is the triumph's gradual reduction to what he dares suggest is adoration. For a brief moment, you're pressed flush against him and he wants nothing more than to close the short distance between you.
Sparks fly and electricity dances, fingertips laced with tension and exhilaration curl around yours. A calloused thumb brushes across the top of your hand, holding it a little tighter than absolutely necessary--as if holding you close will allow this fleeting moment to last for an eternity.
The former archangel's warm breath fans across your cheeks, his eyes baring into your very soul--as if he can still see it, vibrant and beautiful.
He isn't afraid to admit that he misses being able to see it. The very sight always assured him that you were all right, that you were strong.
Now--now he can't see and he doesn't know. He's never been good at reading emotion and with you so close, he longs for his now absent grace.
It's as if you could read his mind and offer a gentle smile, stepping to his side to swing his arm over your shoulder.
"One step at a time."
He nods slowly, eyes turn downcast in an effort to keep himself upright and moving. Each step sends a jolt up his leg, nerves scream and tendons plead, but they're moving.
By the time they reach Gabriel's room, there are tears pricking the corners of his eyes, jaw set in an effort to silence the agonized groans and grunts slipping past his throat.
He all but collapses onto the bed, biting back a growl when you help him hoist his leg onto the bed. His fists have wound around the sheets, clenching tightly for some sort of anchor with the pain singing through his skin.
He all but yelps when the pillow slides beneath his knee, your gentle hands cautiously adjusting the feathered sack.
"I'll get some ice--"
"--Y/N!" His hand snaps out and clasps around your wrist, tugging you back onto the bed.
"What is it?" For a split second, Gabriel swears he can detect a hint of terror in your voice.
"Please. Just, don't go." His grip slackens, realizing how tightly he'd gripped and how little you'd protested.
The adrenaline, the rapid pace of your heart begins to fade when you release the breath you'd been holding, "Gabe, I'm just going to grab some ice. I'll be back."
"To hell with the ice." His fingers entwine with yours, clutching your hand to his chest.
"I'm sure they'd like the ice down there--"
"--sugar." It's a broken plea. It's the first time he's uttered your nickname since he'd been back. His eyes alone beg and your heart aches as you settle closer to his trembling form.
"All right. I'm not going anywhere," you give his hand a gentle squeeze and brush a wayward lock of gold away from his brow.
His smile is soft and relieved as fingers tighten around yours, bringing them up to his lips for a quiet peck.
"Sugar, I have something that, that I should have told you a long time ago."
There are tears gathering in his eyes and he wants to wipe them away, but he doesn't dare let go of your hand. You're the only thing tethering him down, the only lifeline he has left. So, he clings a little tighter and stares down at the blankets spread across his legs as confessions fall from his lips.
"I didn't know how to say this before. I'm not even sure I know how to now," honey flickers upwards, meeting your eyes with a vulnerability you've never seen from the archangel before, "but after today--I need to say it."
"Say what, Gabriel?" Your gaze softens, subconsciously sliding closer as your eyes search his for answers that seem just out of reach.
"I love you, Y/N." He relinquishes one hand's grasp on your smaller one to gently cradle your cheek, "From the moment I met you, it's like I was drawn to you--like a beacon. All these years, all this time, I kept looking for the right time, the right way to communicate all of this."
His thumb brushes away a trailing tear, his own heart pounding in his ears, terrified of the disbelief in your glistening eyes.
"And when I woke up in the Empty, the only thing that drove me to stay awake was the thought of seeing you again, of telling you how much you mean to me. I can't show you, not like I used to, but, if you'll let me--"
He never gets to finish. Suddenly, he's pressed against the headboard and your arms are thrown around his neck. Suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours and he's holding you tighter than he's ever held anyone or anything before. Suddenly, all those years in Hell, all that time spent away from you: it's all worth it.
If he could relive a moment in his lifetime, in the thousands upon thousands of years he's walked both heaven and earth, it would be this moment. For this one moment, all is right in the world.
For this one fleeting moment, he truly understands what it is to be human.
-----------