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At this point Gabriel figures he knows Sam pretty well. They’ve been together for years now after all, and the only person who might know Sam better than the archangel is Dean. Gabriel's no longer surprised by the things Sam says or does, but that’s ok, because where the excitement of learning about Sam in the beginning was fun, Gabriel much prefers the quiet comfort they’ve developed from knowing each other so well.
So his initial shock of walking into the bunker library and seeing Sam Winchester with a bottle of nail polish perched between his huge fingers is enough to make him pause.
"Sam?" He quirks an eyebrow at the hunter.
Sam’s eyes fly up when he hears Gabriel’s voice, and he almost drops the miniature bottle of paint. It’s pink. He’s painting his nails pink.
Sam seems a little embarrassed, but he recovers quickly. "Hey," is all he says.
"Hey yourself. What are you doing?" Gabriel strolls forward, his initial shock now turned into genuine curiosity.
"Painting my nails." Sam’s tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he tries to manipulate the tiny brush into painting a clean line down his nail. It doesn’t seem to be going well.
"Yes, I see that. Would you care to explain why? Never known you to be a pink polish kinda guy."
Sam’s fingers fumble, they’re much too large for the brush, and a streak of pink is smeared along his index finger. "Dammit!" He wipes at it with a cotton ball soaked in stench.
"Ew," Gabriel turns up his nose, "what’s that smell?"
Sam shoves the tiny brush back into the bottle and heaves a heavy sigh, sitting back in the chair. "It’s acetone, it takes the polish off when you mess it up, which I seem to do a lot."
Gabriel nods, looking through the array of colors Sam has lined up along the table. He picks up a pretty gold and admires it. "Still waiting on the explanation of why. Don’t get me wrong, pink is definitely your color, I’m just curious."
"Shut up," Sam half smiles as he swipes the rest of the polish off his nails with the stinky cotton ball. "It’s for Mary. She’s got her first dance in a week and she wants to have her nails done. I don’t know what I was thinking telling her I’d do them, because now she keeps sending me all these pictures of this nail art and it’s just—" he tosses the cotton ball in the trash beside him as he shakes his head. "It’s impossible, Gabe."
"Gracie has a dance? How did I not know about this?"
Sam rolls his eyes. "Probably because she knew you’d embarrass her. And stop calling her Gracie, she’s 12, she wants to go by Mary now. She’s growing up pretty fast all of a sudden."
Sam, Sam," Gabriel tsks, "my beautiful niece will always be Gracie to me, even when she’s old and gray. Which won’t happen for a long, long time since she’s a Nephilim." Gabriel thinks on that for a second before sinking into the chair across from Sam.
"Yeah well, she wants to forget that whole Nephilim thing. She wants to be normal. She doesn’t want to think about being half angel and half human, with two dads that are over protective and crazy with worry about her most of the time. You’d think they’d settle down the older she gets. At least Cas is quiet about it, Dean is freaking out over this dance thing. Says she can’t go to a dance until she’s 35, at least."
"Yeah, well," Gabriel studies a green polish closely, "I imagine old Deano worries more and more about our Mary Grace because he knows the older she gets the closer he is to losing control. Wants to keep her safe and all that."
"I know, I get it," Sam slumps forward on his elbows, "but I know how she feels, just wanting to be normal, have a normal life. I wanted that too when I was that age."
"Don’t worry, she’ll get over it. She’ll fall for a vamp in a few years and go all Twilight on us. That’d send both her dads to the looney bin."
Sam chuckles at that, pushing the hair back from his face. "Oh man, can you imagine? Dean would stroke out."
"Yeah, so would Cassy."
Gabriel surveys the supplies Sam has collected. There are tiny rhinestones and miniature brushes, rolls of colored tape that are so thin they look almost like threads, and nail polish. Bottles and bottles of nail polish. "Where’d you get all this stuff, Sammich?" He reaches out and takes Sam’s hand, inspecting his fingernails.
"Some of it is Mary’s, some of it I got at a nail supply store a couple days ago. It’s a waste though; I think my hands are too big. And those brushes are just ridiculous. Look how small they are. And that tape, I tried it and it just pulled everything off and messed it all up. I give up."
"Nonsense," Gabriel says, picking up a tiny brush and dipping it into some paint, "just takes practice. Or a little bit of angel mojo." Gabriel meets Sam’s eyes and winks.
"Normal, she wants to be normal, remember? That basically means no more Archangel Uncle Gabe snapping his fingers to fix everything."
"Give her a few years on that too, just wait until she wants a car." Sam leans closer before Gabriel swats him away. "No peeking, I’m not done yet."
Sam sighs. "What am I going to do? I can’t even paint my nails and not have polish halfway up to my elbows. I promised her, Gabe. She’ll be so disappointed."
"What is it you’re always telling me? Don’t be so dramatic? It’s fine, Sam. She’ll be fine. We’ll take her to get her nails done, or whatever it is that perfectly normal 12 year old girls do. You’ll still be her favorite uncle, don’t worry."
Sam flushes a little at those words, heat rising in his face. "I’m not her favorite uncle; she loves you just as much."
"MmmHmm," Gabriel hums as he concentrates on Sam’s hand. "She told me when she was 5 that Uncle Sammy is her favorite human uncle, and Uncle Gabe is her favorite angel uncle. I figure that works out pretty well for both of us."
"Yeah, I like that idea," Sam says, absently shaking a bottle of glitter polish with his free hand and watching it swirl. "I still wish I could do her nails myself."
Gabriel blows on Sam’s thumb and switches colors. "Then you will. We’ll practice."
"I don’t think any amount of practice is gonna help me, my art skills are a lost cause," Sam leans in again trying to get a look at Gabriel’s work. He’s swatted away. "What are you painting? Is it a dick? You better not be painting anything X-rated on my nails."
Gabriel feigns shock with a gasp. "I’m hurt, Samshine, it’s like you don’t even know me."
"Know you too well is more like it."
"What’re you guys up to?"
Both Sam and Gabriel turn to see their niece bouncing into the room, her ponytail swinging behind her.
"Well, Gracie, your Uncle Sam here is in full meltdown mode because he’s afraid his nail art skills aren’t up to par for your dance next week."
Her eyes go wide as she looks at Sam. "You told him?"
"Was it a secret?"
"Oh please, everything’s a secret from him! Now he’ll tease me forever!"
Gabriel looks up at her fully and points the end of his paint brush to the chair next to him. "Sit, kiddo." He waits until she obeys, sulking a little, and then he goes on. "Who’s the boy?"
She looks at Sam, a blush creeping up under the freckles that dot her cheeks. "See?!"
"Gabe, stop it. How do you even know there’s a boy?"
"You're right, maybe it’s a girl. Is it a girl?" Gabriel chuckles when she buries her face in her hands.
"Gabe, knock it off," Sam warns.
"Oh my God," the words are muffled between her hands, "why did you tell him?"
"Here now, don’t take your grandfather’s name in vain," Gabe chastises, but he can’t hold in his laugh when she shoots him a death glare with her big blue eyes. "You look like your dad when you make that face."
She sticks her tongue out at him. "Which one?"
"Both of them." He blows on Sam’s thumb again before letting it go. "What’d’ya think?"
Sam studies his nail closely, turning it this way and that. "Is that-" he whispers, "is that a Picasso?" he finally asks in disbelief.
"No," the angel's tone is disgusted, "that is a Gabriel original. Picasso stole it from me."
Sam furrows his brow as he looks up. "You’re saying Pablo Picasso copied your painting?"
"That’s exactly what I’m saying."
Mary Grace is ignoring them as she studies the rhinestones. "Are you gonna use these on my nails?"
Sam shakes his head. "I don’t know about that, Mary. I’m a pretty big failure at nail art so far."
"Well yeah, I figured you would be," she shoves her thumb toward Gabriel, "and then I figured he’d snap his fingers and fix it. I just thought it would be something fun to do before the dance."
Gabriel pretends not to notice the shine in Sam’s eyes; he has a tendency to get a little emotional over his niece. Gabriel loves to tease him over it.
Sam clears his throat. "Yeah, we can definitely do that, that sounds perfect." He holds his thumb nail out for her to see, "And apparently Gabe can paint you Picassos if you want them."
"Ah ah ah," Gabriel says, wagging his finger, "Uncle Gabriel can paint you original works that were stolen by famous humans, just to clarify."
"Whatever you say, Snap Crackle Pop," she leans in to kiss Gabriel’s check before bouncing from the chair and out of the room.
And it’s Gabriel’s turn to act like he’s not fighting tears. "She hasn’t called me that in ages; I thought she forgot about it."
"I remember how that name started. What was she, six? Seven? And you snapped your fingers at the breakfast table to get her more honey for her toast. And she looked at Dean and asked why no one else’s uncles can do that. Dean said something like, "Gracie, you don’t want everyone to have uncles like him, he’s a pain." And she said that everyone should have an uncle that can snap crackle pop them honey in the morning. You remember?"
"I do indeed. I miss that little girl."
"Yeah, me too. She's really is growing up. That’s why I wanted to do something like this," Sam motions to the table covered in nail paraphernalia, "I’m just afraid she’ll grow up and we won’t be so close anymore. Ya know?"
Gabriel stands and rounds the table, plopping himself down in Sam’s lap. "That’ll never happen. She’ll be our Gracie forever; we just have to get these teenage years over with. That’s going to be a terror, are you prepared for that?"
"As prepared as an uncle can be I guess. I’ll get Dean’s bail money ready for when she gets a boyfriend."
"Or girlfriend." Gabriel wraps his arms around Sam’s neck, leaning in to kiss just below his ear.
"Right, or girlfriend." Sam slips his hands around Gabriel’s waist, pulling him in closer. "You know she could come back any minute right? What if she walks in on us?"
"Geez, Sam," Gabriel murmurs against his neck, "I don’t know why you always have to be such a perv. This is completely innocent and you have to go and make it all dirty." He grinds down on Sam’s lap.
"You know," Sam takes a deep breath as he massages Gabriel’s lower back, "I was thinking while I painted my nails, I’m pretty sure we’ve got a pair of panties that exact shade of pink. Who should wear them this time, you or me?" He smiles at the deep chuckle that resonates from the archangel.
“You dirty, dirty bird. You know I love your ass in panties.”
“Now that I know you can paint, what about using me as a canvas?” Sam slips his hands inside the waist of Gabriel’s jeans. “Ever thought about painting A Starry Night on my backside?”
“Sam, that’s not fair. You know I’m a sucker for Van Gogh.” Gabriel slides his nose down Sam’s neck, breathing him in.
“Race you to the bedroom?”
“You know I’ll win, I’ve got wings.”
“If I’m wearing panties while you use me as a canvas I’m not sure who the real winner is, Gabe.”
“True, sounds like we both win in this game.”
“I’m still racing,” Sam says, as he stands and sits Gabriel on his feet. He’s through the door in a second, knowing Gabriel is letting him win.
“I do love to watch that ass run,” Gabriel muses, snapping himself into the bedroom to wait on Sam.