Work Text:
It started in a diner. Not much to look at from outside, but it was an all-too-rare oasis in a desert of crappy food and indifferent staff. One of those unexpected Mom and Pop places where the floor's not sticky underfoot, the tables are clean, the service attentive (but not too attentive), and the food so good it's simply out of this world.
Sam preferred his fruit uncooked, but even by his standards, the pie that was placed before his brother appeared inviting. "Looks good," he offered, waving his fork in the dessert's direction before stabbing it into the last morsel of his arugula salad.
"Let me feed you!" cried Dean, his voice uncharacteristically high and light.
Sam squinted in suspicion at his brother. Dean's eyes were liquid pools that seemed filled with a boundless love so vast and pure that they seemed larger than usual, almost to fill his face.
"It's your favorite; don't you want to save it for yourself?" muttered Sam, embarrassed and uneasy by this unusual display of emotion.
"Oh, but my sweet little Sammy, I love you so," declared Dean in a sing-song, child-like voice. He held aloft a fork, already loaded with apple pie. "Here comes the plane, nnnnnneeeeeeeeeooooowwwwwww!"
Splat! The large piece of pie had fallen off the fork that had missed Sam's mouth by a mile. Instead, it collided with his chest, leaving a snail-like slime of apple sauce as it tumbled down into his lap.
Sam wasn't sure if he was more mortified to have actually opened his mouth at Dean's urging or by the mess of pie that now decorated his last clean T-shirt until laundry day.
"Oopsie, I missed!" cried Dean. "Never mind, here comes another!"
~#~
"Gabriel!"
The echo of Sam's words within the cold, tiled walls of the bunker had hardly faded before the archangel in question appeared before him.
Gabriel pulled the ever-present lollipop from his mouth with a lascivious wink. "Well, hello there, big boy, how's the weather up there?"
Sam rolled his eyes. The height difference thing never seemed to get old for the angel, who was fond of commenting that it would be the same if only they were both lying down.
"What have you done?" Sam demanded.
Gabriel made a faux-pained expression. "Not even a 'hello' first? I'm wounded, Samshine, wounded, I tell you."
"Hello," replied Sam emphatically, somehow managing not to roll his eyes again by sheer Herculean effort. "Besides, I'm the one who should be feeling wounded," he added, gesturing at his chest.
A look of concern finally taking root on his face, Gabriel leaned forward and tentatively wiped his fingers through a particularly large red splotch adorning Sam's chest before bringing them up to his mouth.
"Ketchup?" he guessed. "So, you're kind of a messy eater, or is it something else?" he asked, pointing out the myriad of other food stains he was now noticing down Sam's front. "I mean, I prefer sweet, but vive la difference," he smirked, reaching out for another taste.
Sam slapped the angel's hand away. "You did something, I'm sure of it. Just admit it."
"Who, sweet little me?" teased Gabriel, ostentatiously licking the tips of his fingers clean with a disturbingly fastidious zeal. His voice dropped to a low purr. "And what exactly am I supposed to have done to you?"
"Not me, Dean. He's been acting weird ever since the last time you visited."
"Oh, so no change there then," Gabriel snickered. "That brother of yours is as mad as a bag of cats and about as well balanced as a one-legged elephant."
"Hey," Sam scolded, lowering his voice as he continued. "You need to go easy on him. He's had a lot on his mind recently."
"Pfft! All the more reason to appreciate those around him," Gabriel muttered mutinously, his irritation plain to hear. "There's no need to take it out on those nearest to him."
"That's kinda how families work," Sam scoffed. His eyes narrowed as his brain played catch up. "Ah, so you're saying you did do something."
Gabriel shrugged. "I may have simply 'suggested' that your dearest Dean-o change his ways and treat you more like he used to."
Sam threw up his arms in frustration. "And he used to be, like, my full-time carer! Thanks to you, he's been literally treating me as he did when I was a baby!"
"Oops, I think I may have neglected to take into account the shortness of the human lifespan. My bad!" said Gabriel, not looking the slightest bit guilty. He smirked. "Still, at least he didn't try to change you." He wilted under Sam's stony glare. "Ah... awkward!"
"This is all your fault. He's been obsessed with trying to feed me. Every shirt I have is ruined."
Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. All of that plaid is pretty hard on the eyes. I'm sure most people wouldn't even notice."
"It's not just that, most times he's not very accurate with the fork. At first I thought he was drunk-" Sam glared Gabriel into silence as the angel muttered something insulting under his breath, before continuing. "-but it's like his balance is completely off. The drive back was hair-raising, to say the least."
"Hmm, that would be an interesting look on you, I'm sure. I can picture you with a man bun," pondered Gabriel. "Hey, I wonder if his center of gravity's off because he's remembering being younger and shorter? Yeah, it'll be fine. I'm sure he'll soon adjust with practice."
Sam shook his head from the whiplash of Gabriel's thoughts. He massaged his palm across his chest and winced. "Not on me, he won't! The impact from those tines bruise after a while."
"For such a big manly moose, I never realized you were really a delicate little snowflake!"
Sam frowned. "I'm more than capable of feeding myself, thank you."
"You like it when I feed you," teased Gabriel, waggling his eyebrows.
"That's different," grumbled Sam. "Besides, it's kinda getting like he's building up to open-heart surgery with the silverware. You need to fix this."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you," said Gabriel, sounding almost apologetic for once as he rummaged in one of his jacket pockets. His deft fingers made short, practiced work of removing the wrapper of the Hershey candy he'd retrieved. Reaching up on tiptoes, he pressed the flat-bottomed, tear-drop-shaped chocolate against Sam's lips until it was admitted.
"Never let it be said that I don't give the best Kiss," said Gabriel with a wink and a chuckle.
"Urgh, you're going to make me fat with all this candy," groaned Sam.
"Nonsense," said Gabriel, waving his hand as if to wave away the argument. "You could stand to add some padding on those bones. Anyhoo, where is this troublesome brother of yours?"
"Exhausted after trying to feed me every morsel of food in the bunker. He's having a nap."
"Poor baby," Gabriel snorted. He raised his right hand level with his face and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed preternaturally loud throughout the bunker.
"That's it?" asked Sam suspiciously.
"Your wish is my command. All fixed," Gabriel agreed, giving a broad, beaming smile. "Catch you later, big fella," he said, bidding farewell with a wink and disappearing with a sound like a flock of birds taking flight.
Sam sighed, surprised by his disappointment at the angel's sudden departure. As chaotic as Gabriel's presence can be, you could hardly describe it as dull, he considered. Plus, the ever-available supply of candy was a guilty pleasure that he otherwise wouldn't allow himself.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the -- decidedly sleep-addled -- appearance of his brother in the doorway. "Dean?" he urged cautiously. "You're not going to try to feed me again, are you?"
Dean rubbed his hands over his face and blinked blearily. His eyes looked less fogged than before, although now his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Of course not, what an odd thing to say!"
Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered himself into a seat at the table.
Dean, meanwhile, seemed to be processing something mentally. "So... are you saying you're hungry?" he asked slowly, padding over to the kitchen counter.
"I guess I could eat," Sam shrugged. "Although, to be honest, my heart's not really in it."
"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach," said Dean thoughtfully. He paused as if absorbing the statement. "Perhaps I should take a more direct approach," he added, raising the butter knife he held clenched in one fist to watch it reflect the light.
Concerned, Sam cautiously got to his feet. When, as he feared, Dean came for him, he turned and ran, thankful, not for the first time, for his longer legs and better running ability.
"Gabriel, you come back right now this instant and fix this properly!" he screamed as he sprinted down the corridor.
THE END
(;,;)