Work Text:
"I think I'm gonna clock out!" you called over your shoulder to Sam, who was set up in his usual spot at the long wooden table in the dining/research room, immersed in whatever was on the screen.
He hummed in response, taking his eyes off his laptop for a moment to direct his steely gaze at you through those wise-looking eyes of his. "Not gonna go...um...wipe some broken hearts off the bar floor?" he teased, quirking one eyebrow as his scruff-lined lips twisted into a smile.
You chuckled sleepily and shook your head, noting how your joints cracked and realigned at even the smallest movement. "I'll pass. Dean can get enough work done out there for the both of us. Besides," you added as an afterthought, "I'm tired as hell."
"I hear you," Sam responded quietly, sinking back into his work.
You sighed heavily and plodded down the semi-elegant hallway to your room, stretching your arms over your head as you went and letting out a satisfied groan when something popped. All you wanted was a nice, warm shower, and maybe some peace and quiet. Maybe even a beer and a movie if you got bored. Yeah, some BAB sounded great right about then. It was Valentine's Day, after all. Great day for porn.
With that thought in mind, you swung open the large, mahogany door with the intent of flopping uninterrupted onto your bed when-
"And how's the cutest little human in the world?"
"Gabriel! Get out of my room!"
There he was, the peskiest of the four archangels, sprawled out on your covers with a wide grin etched across his handsome face.
"How about no?" he snickered, sitting up and smirking. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day!" he added enthusiastically, opening his arms as if to augment his stating of the obvious. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn't stop in on my favorite human to give 'em a proper date?"
You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, irritated beyond belief and sensing the stirrings of a migraine. "You're not my boyfriend, Gabriel. And I'm really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. I just wanna take a shower and lie down and get some shut-eye before Dean comes back with someone and makes it impossible to sleep."
Raising one eyebrow, the smirking archangel sat forward, his whiskey eyes gazing straight into yours with an air of smug unpredictability that had the reverse effect on his counter. "Mind if I join you?"
"Fuck off, Feathers."
"Rude," he pouted, cueing yet another eye-roll.
"What do you want, Gabriel?" you asked sharply, crossing your arms and lifting your chin in an attempt to convey a semblance of confidence, even though his presence made your insides squirm like worms on LSD.
"You, naked, covered in rose petals," he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that never failed to make your heart do a little dance (often a frantic sort of "OH SHIT THOSE ARE SOME SEXY EYEBROWS" jig).
You felt heat creep up your neck and gritted your teeth, balling your hands into fists. "Gabriel, I swear if you're-"
"It's just a joke, Sweetcheeks!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender, before muttering, "I'd prefer syrup, anyway. Sweeter."
"Gabe..."
"Fine," he sighed, his smirk softening to a smile, "I'm here to help you loosen up a bit. You look tense."
"Yeah, I wonder why!"
"Aw, c'mon," he whined, scooting to the edge of your bed and pouting up at you. "All I wanna do is cuddle! I won't bother you for the rest of February if you say yes." At least he was asking for consent. How generous.
"You're bribing me now?" you snorted, trying to sound casually annoyed to hide how flattered you were by him. He always did that to you; he twisted you into confused knots until you didn't know how to feel.
It wasn't as if being with him would be a huge issue. Dean wouldn't like it – he hated Gabriel, even more so after the T.V. land escapade – but after a while, he'd adjust. Sam wouldn't be so vocal about his distaste, probably even supportive. He was already third wheeling one frustrating couple. What could be the harm in adding another?
No, the problem was with you. You didn't want to tie yourself down to an archangel if it only meant a quick (though undoubtedly amazing) fuck and decades of heartbreak. He was so wild, you doubted he'd be up for a long-term relationship, and you weren't sure you could handle a one-night-stand, as tempting as that option was.
Gabriel's eyes twinkled, intrigue written across his face. He had an air of smugness that tended to linger around him but seemed unfounded at that moment. Quickly (and suspiciously), he cut off your thoughts: "Is it working?"
"Nope," you lied, walking over to your dresser to give yourself something to do other than stand awkwardly and in a state of slowly depleting gobsmackery in the doorway. If you were going to have to deal with Gabriel, you would definitely be dealing with him in comfy clothes.
"Why are you making me work so harrrrrrd?" the ever-childish archangel whined, tilting his head and watching you open one of the mahogany drawers and rummage around.
Sifting through your clothes, you groaned again, pulling out one of Sam's giant flannels (red-checked and soft) you'd stolen a while back. Winchester clothing was just more comfortable; even their boxers. You were tentative about wearing men's underwear in front of the perverted archangel stationed on your bed but you know what they say: fuck it.
"Because giving you what you want is like feeding wild animals," you said distractedly, moving to your bathroom door (you had one separate from the boys' because they took long showers and sometimes menstruation couldn't wait an hour) and calling over your shoulder, "We cuddle once and then you never leave me alone!"
You could feel his eyes drilling into you as you slipped inside, carefully locking the door behind you even though his bothering to use it would only be out of courtesy and therefore very unlikely. You waited for a few seconds in case Gabriel was planning on breaking in, before pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the sink.
Lo' and behold, there came the flutter of wings from directly behind you, the cool breeze from invisible wings tickling your nearly bare back. "But I just wanna cu- wow you are...wow."
You blushed heavily and spun around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, only to realize that he could see straight down your bra. With a yelp, you grabbed the first thing you saw – a towel hanging on the door behind him – and held it against your practically naked torso. "Gabriel, what the hell!?"
"I just wanted to keep talking to you," he whined, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and other emotions that you could recognize but didn't want to name.
"So you came into the bathroom with me?!"
"What's wrong with that?"
"You're joking," you told him flatly, agitated, "You see nothing wrong with this? I'm half fucking naked, Gabriel!"
"I noticed," the archangel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows again. "You're hotter than I imagined."
"Than you imagined?" you snapped, your face flushing, "The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Oh God, did he...holy fuck, did he get off thinking about you? Christ, you couldn't win with him!
"Oh, you know what it means, Sugar~" Gabriel purred, taking a few steps forward so that his chest brushed against your forearms which pinned the towel to your quivering body.
You blushed furiously, your eyes widening as you gazed breathlessly up at him. A strangled moan clawed its way out of your throat and past your clamped lips. After a beat, you finally found your voice, or some of it. "Shut up, Asshat!" you growled, wrinkling your nose and taking a step back.
"Make me~"
"Okay!" you snapped, stepping around him, "I get that it's Valentine's Day but I'm really not in the mood!"
Gabriel sighed, gazing after you as you opened the door and slipped out, pulling the giant, tunic-like flannel over your scatterbrained head to hide your torso. 'Sexy fucking angel,' you thought, remembering vividly the way he could morph from innocent puppy-dog to I'm-gonna-fuck-you-'til-you-can't-walk in under a second. 'What gives him the right.'
"I just wanna help you relax," he whined (a tone he'd been taking quite a lot lately), watching you flop down on your bed and moving to sit on the end.
"Leave me alone," you commanded, burying your face in the pillow and shutting your eyes right. You felt the bed creak next to you and you turned your head, coming eye to whiskey eye with the pesky archangel.
"No."
You groaned, turning your face to hide a blush as your heart fluttered from the proximity of his body to yours. Finally, you got up the courage to say it. "Fine."
A grin spread across Gabriel's face. "What made you change your mind all of the sudden?" he asked innocently, the smirk on his face audible to your reddening ears.
"Shut up."
"Aww," he chuckled, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, "Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're pissed off?"
You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, your mind on hyper-alert as he pressed closer, breath dancing over your neck. "Every damn time you see me," you snapped agitatedly. It was true, you had a tendency to get riled up when he was around, for obvious reasons. He seemed to find it amusing, which did nothing to help your flustered state.
"You really are adorable," he said, sounding almost genuine.
You blushed and shook your head, glaring at him over your shoulder as your heart did backflips. "I am not, Gabriel!" It sounded so childish you had to fight to keep from cringing.
"Don't deny it," Gabriel chuckled, poking your nose. "See? You're like a kitten dumped in ice water. I just wanna hug you and kiss every inch of your skin and listen to your voice say my name over and over and over again..." He sighed, taking in a breath and pulling back a bit, gazing adoringly at you.
Your face felt like it was on fire from all the heat rushing through it, and your eyes were wide as saucers.
"I-I...uhm...I mean that's-wow..."
The archangel's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, whispering, "Plus, you're adorable when you're flustered."
You swore you thought your heart stopped for a second. It skipped a beat or two — or five — at his words.
He chewed his lip, waiting for a response of some sort, of which you seemed incapable. You gazed at him like a tourist at the Statue of Liberty, your eyes wide and your lips parted as thoughts rushed through your mind like hot pockets through someone's dietary tract.
His stare was what caught you; his deep golden-brown eyes simultaneously grounded you in reality and sent you off on tangents of mental fantasy.
"So, are you gonna kiss me or not?"
Gabe's mouth dropped open; it was his turn to look dumbfounded. "What, (Y/N)?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes. "You wore me down, okay? You win. Now do me a favor and finish what you started!"
A smile spread across his handsome features as he lifted himself up on one arm and cupped your face with his hand. Gently, he drew your lips up to his. Your lips met and instantly you felt right, somehow. Complete. You could feel heat radiating off of him, like somewhere inside him was a burning fire; his grace. Softly, his lips moved against yours as his fingers dragging up to card through your hair. A small gasp rose in your throat. It was magical, caring, even loving.
You stayed there, frozen in his arms, for a few minutes before realizing that sometime soon, you'd need to breathe. Pulling back, you gasped, your chest heaving against his. "Oh, I forgot," he chuckled.
"What?" you asked incredulously, breathless, "To breathe?"
"Maybe..."
"Christ, Gabe," you groaned, glaring at him with amusement dancing in your features. "How have you survived this long?"
Gabriel shrugged, grinning sheepishly. You knew that he was set on you being the adorable one, but the way he smiled was pretty damn cute. His eyes crinkled slightly, shining like pools of liquid gold. It struck you how just last year the pair of you had been enemies, and now there you were, lying in bed with him. The bed you had just kissed in.
"You're hopeless," you sighed, resting your head back on the pillow.
He tilted his head, propping himself up to glare jokingly down at you. "Ouch. Harsh."
"But accurate, Mr. Century-Old-Archangel."
'Mr. Century-Old-Archangel' chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm and brushing a few wayward strands of hair out of your face. "Cutie."
"I'm not cute!"
"Whatever you say, Sugar. Happy Valentine's Day."
"You too, Gabe."