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It started the same as any unremarkable evening after they'd got back from a hunt. Dean had disappeared off to his room to decompress with a combination of memory foam mattress and ear-meltingly loud Metallica. Sam had been left alone to first enjoy a near-scalding shower (courtesy of the bunker's excellent water pressure and supernaturally unending supply of hot water), then potter about in the library perusing old Men of Letters journals.
Sam had barely had a chance to choose something to read before the bunker started to shake. Instinct took over, making Sam draw his gun and train it on the entrance door that was practically rattling in its frame. There was the whooshing sound of sudden air movement and blinding white light leaked from the gaps around the door.
Then as abruptly as it started, there was silence.
Sam waited, weapon at the ready, all too painfully aware of being alone and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Cursing his luck, he vowed to hide Dean's headphones should they survive whatever was about to take place. After several, agonizingly long moments the door burst open on its hinges, crashing into the wall.
"Hey, hey! I'm back!" called a short figure standing in the doorway with his arms stretched out in a victory pose. Sam couldn't quite see who it was, but he'd have recognized that voice anywhere. Gabriel.
"Third time's the charm!" cried the angel as he stepped into the bunker and made his way down the staircase.
Sam put his gun away, still feeling a little shaky from the burst of adrenaline. "Did Jack bring you back?" he asked in wonder, once his heart had slowed the worst of its pounding. He tried to take in the sight before him while searching for any sign of injury. Nothing. He looks... good.
Gabriel snorted. "Nah, I set... well, kinda like a wake-up call –"
"You've been gone for over a year," interrupted Sam, his tone turned petulant. That's just like him to disappear and not think to let me... anyone of us... know he was okay.
Gabriel paused for just a fraction of a second before his eyebrow peaked. "Anyone would think you missed me." With a cheeky grin, he pulled a sucker from deep within an inside pocket, clearly aiming to break the mood. He sighed in the face of Sam's carefully maintained stoic expression and moved the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other and back again. After a moment's thought, he removed it and waved it at Sam like an admonishing finger to punctuate his next words.
"Do you have any idea of how difficult it is to set a wake-up call in a realm that has no concept of linear time? Plus, I... may have pressed 'snooze' a coupla times."
Sam chuckled despite himself; he could practically feel himself relax and the tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders melt away. He had never been able to stay angry with Gabriel.
Gabriel smirked, no doubt pleased with himself for a job well done, and changed the subject. "Anyway... What's there to eat around here? I'm starved!"
Sam frowned, confused. "Why don't you just conjure something up?"
"Now, where's the fun in that?" called Gabriel over one shoulder as he strode off to the kitchen.
It's like trying to keep up with a tornado, thought Sam. He just sweeps you off your feet and up into all his chaos. He hurried after the angel with a grin. And I love every minute of it.
He arrived in time to find Gabriel apparently calling off an ad-hoc raid of the refrigerator with a disappointed shudder at the sight of its meager, past-prime contents.
"Besides," said Gabriel, carrying on the conversation as if he'd not just exposed himself to toxic waste. "I'm a bit low on the old miracle juice - ew, er I mean Grace. Yeah, let's make a mental note not to ever use that expression again."
Sam shrugged, and Gabriel continued. "Yep, plus I was barely back before they got me hooked up to Heaven to keep the lights on, y'know?"
Sam bristled at the thought, but Gabriel waved away Sam's look of concern. "Oh, don't worry. I'm like the Energizer Bunny, I can keep on going all night long," Gabriel leered.
"Don't we know it," grouched Dean, deliberately pushing his way between them, having just wandered into the kitchen in search of a snack.
~#~
"Is he really gonna eat all that?" asked Gabriel jerking a thumb in the direction of Dean's retreating back. His expression was a weird equal mix of horror, awe, and concern.
Sam laughed. "Yeah, plus be back later for seconds. Years of dirty diners and motel room cooking have gifted him a cast iron stomach."
Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked Sam up and down. "But not so much for you, huh?"
"Hey, I like salad!" protested Sam.
"Bless you, but not for every meal, surely?" asked Gabriel.
"Whatever it takes to not end up throwing it all back up," retorted Sam. He paused, anxious that he'd done his brother a disservice, but wanting to explain himself. "Don't get me wrong, Dean's a great cook, just in more of a Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives sort of way."
"Ooh, a Food Network reference, there's hope for you yet," said Gabriel with a mocking lilt. "Even if I don't quite see Dean as Guy Fiori. Maybe if he bleached his hair?"
Sam exploded into laughter at the mental image that conjured. "No, I meant it's all heavy on the shredded cheese, beef mince, and chili."
"Hmm... well he's clearly raised the bar, but let's see what we can do." He started searching through the cupboards and even the refrigerator again, albeit after first making a production of taking a calming breath. "Okay, so there's not much going on here, but I think we can put something together. I'm certainly impressed with the amount of garlic you've got."
"Dean had some brainwave about using it concentrated against vampires," explained Sam. "Although, after all the smell and mess of boiling it down it turns out dead man's blood is still just easier to use."
"Well, do you think you could chop some garlic for me now without it triggering unpleasant memories?" asked Gabriel. He watched as Sam scoffed and reached for the largest knife in the rack.
"Stop, stop!" he cried shortly, confiscating the almost-machete. "I want it chopped, not ganked! Here, let me show you." He reached around Sam's waist, unashamedly enjoying the pleasant warmth and pine scent of the man's body. He took Sam's hands in his own, marveling at the contrast of his own long fingers against the larger, darker and more calloused hands that he guided to his bidding.
"There we go... push down and ease the cloves out gently. Now slice into it lengthways, with just enough pressure," Gabriel instructed. He stepped away, surprised at how moved he was by the proximity. Baby steps, he counseled himself. Don't want a startled moose, even if he is only armed with a paring knife. He cleared his throat and patted Sam on the arm. "Now slice finely across as thin as you can, do it for all the rest and then you're done."
Gabriel filled a pan with water and placed it on the burner. "For the pasta... angel hair, of course," he clarified, adding the dried Capellini to the pot. He paused to give Sam a lingering up-and-down look before adding another serving of pasta. "I'm sure you'll find you've got a big appetite," he added.
He went on to add olive oil and butter to a large sauté pan and set it on a low heat. "What?" he demanded on noting Sam's skeptical expression.
"Carbs and oil and butter?" Sam protested. "Are you trying to make me fat?"
"I'm sure you could use a little more padding on those bones and, even if not, if it makes you happy, why not?" argued Gabriel mildly. "Now shred this for me," he commanded with a chuckle, handing over a large hunk of parmesan cheese.
Sam sighed but set to work. And if Gabriel stared a little overlong at the muscular forearm action, then everyone was too polite to mention it.
"Oh, I don't really-" Sam objected as Gabriel reached for the jar of chili flakes.
"Trust me," interrupted Gabriel, adding far less of the flakes to the simmering garlic than he would have done usually. "I've got you, plus it's good to add a little spice from time to time, don't you think?"
If Sam had any strong opinions, then he kept them to himself, but Gabriel couldn't fail to miss the rapt attention he was commanding. He liked to believe he wasn't fooling himself by thinking it wasn't just the promise of food.
He drained and tipped the now ready pasta into the pan, enjoying the sound of the excess water as it hissed on contact with the oil. Turning up the heat he stirred vigorously, tossing the pasta until it was well coated in the sauce.
He handed Sam the pepper mill. "Here, keep cranking until it hurts," he ordered, his voice teasing.
"I have very strong wrists," said Sam, his eyes sparkling, surprising both of them as the words came out more as a low growl.
"Big manly man like you? I'd never have doubted it," grinned Gabriel. "Now, let's go eat."
~#~
"Hey, hot stuff," called Gabriel, around a mouthful of pasta.
"What did you call me?" asked Sam, his voice rising in disbelief.
Gabriel finished his mouthful and pointed with a grabby-hands motion at the bottle at the end of the dining room table. "I said: can you pass the hot sauce?"
"Really?" mocked Sam with a judgmental look, although he still passed the condiment.
"I'm an archangel of many diverse tastes. Sometimes I crave hamburger, and sometimes I want filet mignon," he shrugged.
"And which am I?" asked Sam, his mouth suddenly dry despite experiencing an overwhelming need to swallow.
"Oh, you're 100% pure prime beef," winked Gabriel. "Of that, there's no doubt in my mind."
Feeling his cheeks reddening, Sam shoved a forkful of the, frankly delicious, food in his mouth to avoid having to answer and concentrated on not choking.
~#~
Sam had barely left the room with a halting, wide-eyed request for Gabriel to join momentarily, before the other Winchester sidled in.
"You be careful with my brother," said Dean all swagger and threats of violence poorly hidden under a thin skin of humor.
Gabriel wasn't one to worry about threats. Especially from some blown-up pipsqueak with ideas above his station. Even one who was almost as hot as Sam. "He's a very big boy," smiled Gabriel, waggling his eyebrows, laying it on thick. He knew it was a dick move, but he'd had millennia at identifying the vulnerable spots in a human's psyche, and he was good at it. Sometimes it was too much fun, and he just couldn't help himself. "He's big enough and pretty enough to look after himself."
"Exactly," argued Dean, rolling his eyes. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Sam's... sensitive."
Gabriel cocked his head. "He's ticklish?" he asked, his mind unexpectedly racing to some rather intriguing scenarios for later.
Dean blinked. "No, well... okay, yeah. But that's not what I meant." Seeming flustered he paused and started again. "Look, you and me, we're not that different."
Gabriel raised one skeptical eyebrow, but let the human keep digging.
"We're both men of the world," continued Dean. "Y'know, love 'em and leave 'em kinda guys?"
Gabriel held up a hand to make him stop. "Wait. Do I have to give you the shovel talk for my baby brother?" he asked, still teasing but now honestly interested in what the man had to say.
"What?" asked Dean, himself now appearing thoroughly confused with how the conversation had escaped him.
"Cas?" prompted Gabriel.
"We're just friends," exploded Dean in apoplexy.
Gabriel leaned forward and patted the man on the cheek. The effect was ruined slightly by needing to stand on tip-toe, but it made the point nonetheless.
"Don't worry your little head about it," he whispered. "Sam and I are also 'friends' but there's no 'just' about it," he added, leaving the rest unsaid. With a dry chuckle, he turned and walked away.
He paused at the door and turned back, face and voice uncharacteristically serious as the faintest hint of the appearance of wings filled the space of the doorway around him. "I promise you: I will never hurt Sam."
He strode from the room in search of Sam with all the proud grace of an archangel, but inside he couldn't help but wonder at the truth of Dean's words and if at heart the brothers were more alike than they seemed.
~#~
"Wait. You actually want me to stay?" Gabriel sat up in bed and stared at Sam in astonishment. He winced first at the dull-pleasant ache in his body that he'd chosen not to heal, but then at how his words could be misconstrued. He tried again. "I mean, I'd love to, but I never got that vibe from you before."
"Well, you'll have noticed we take in our fair share of waifs and strays." Sam paused, running a hand through his disheveled hair before continuing. "And given our life, things rarely seem to end well for them. It can make it difficult to open up – so it sure helps knowing in advance that they can resurrect." The haunted shadow in his eyes and the downturned curl of his lip didn't match his light tone of voice.
Gabriel nodded. To demonstrate his understanding he reached out and clasped Sam's larger hand between his own, but otherwise chose not to speak of it. He marveled at the strength in that hand, at the man's core, yet the vulnerability in Sam's heart. Yes, Gabriel might be a pro at identifying those weak spots in a human's psyche, but in this case, it made him love this man all the more.
He continued, as ever falling back on humor to mask his deepest feelings. "Oh, I'm sure I've not used up all of my nine lives yet, so I guess... what's one more cat in your home, really?"
"You are kinda cat-like," agreed Sam, with a relieved sigh.
"I'll be sure to try not to shed on the furniture," Gabriel laughed, collapsing back onto the mattress.
"I do also kinda dig the wing-thing," Sam admitted with a furious blush.
"Yeah?" said Gabriel, his interest definitely piqued. "Well, you know what they say..."
~#~
It was way too early in the morning, but Dean was already in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee and a pounding head.
Sam strode in all loose-limbed and wide smiles and started to help himself to two cups of coffee from the stove. "You're up early," he noted cheerfully, as he poured an obscene amount of sugar into one of the drinks.
"Hmmm. And I heard you were up all night," said Dean, smirking as his comment made Sam blush. Although, it was quite tricky to tell under his brother's new healthy glow.
Barely avoiding scalding himself on the hot coffee, Sam stopped what he was doing and stood staring at Dean in horror. His mouth gaped open and closed in a parody of a fish impression.
"Why am I not surprised that Gabriel's so vocal?" grumbled Dean, good-naturedly. "You, on the other hand, are another matter. I never realized you had such a dirty mouth on you."
"Ah, you heard that?" squeaked Sam.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh boy, yes. It was really quite illuminating. It certainly gave me the incentive to finally find those headphones I'd mislaid."
THE END
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