Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It shouldn’t have made him feel this way- seeing Gabriel and Rowena together.

Together…

It wasn’t just an insinuation, it was the promise, with the state of dishevel that he and Dean had found them in. Lipstick and clothes mussed, Gabriel’s breathing faltering as he runs a hand through his presently unruly hair and plays the interruption off. Sam’s thoughts are more than just a little derogatory towards the archangel as a deep frown sets onto his face and a heavy weight settles into his limbs; and throat. Attraction was always something he’d struggled with, both handling it, as well as admitting it.

This current event lit him with a nasty, befuddling anger, bringing out part of his self-conscious he’d thought he’d long buried.

Soon enough, the horrible moment was over and they’d all dispersed, and the moment was over for everyone… except Sam.

Trying to do research after that was a personal hell. Thoughts of inadequacy he was trying not to give way to sat heavily against the forefront of his mind. But it grew more than that as the days passed, emotion crawling outwards despite himself. Before, he and Gabriel had a well-established easy-going back and forth, a warm friendship even; the archangel tossing glances and jokes his way, looking for some sort of hint of approval from the Winchester with a clever glint in his eye. Now, he was only being met with repose from the younger Winchester.

After a hunt, Sam is sat in the back of the Impala with Gabriel to his right. If his eyes aren’t trained on the back of Dean’s head, they find the scenery outside his window very interesting.

“Right, Samsquatch?” Comes the quip and the gentle elbow- Sam just gives him a disapproving look before continuing to straight up ignore him.
The cold edge as of recent hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gabriel. As the boys had been in and out of the bunker, he hadn’t been able to put his finger down on when exactly it had started. Surely not after he’d had his hands all over the King of Hell’s delightfully witchy mother… ?

That just wouldn’t make any sense. He’d always broadly advertised himself as something of a lady killer. Definitely sex forward, not at all shy. He’d all but rubbed it in the boys’ faces multiple times over their storied years together.

Still… it caused the archangel pause.
He had a certain spark and hesitation where Sammy Winchester was involved. Where Castiel had served as Dean Winchester’s guardian angel of sorts, Gabriel had always hovered near Sam’s essence. Something about him; without any of the knowing of the overarching plot his father had set in motion, drew him in like a moth to a flame. Their game often ended with his wings singed and barbecued. He’d taken proud hits because of them, FOR them, multiple times.

While others had stakes in the success or fall of the boys, Gabriel’s interest was dubious. As was his interest in Sam.

“I’ve noticed the cold shoulder.” Gabriel slides into the library, resting his upper back against the doorframe, posture relaxed despite his serious tone; similar to the past when they’ve meant business. And yet despite the stern approach, Sam isn’t at all responsive. Instead, he continues with his book, only glancing once up at the shorter being. Quickly.

“No. I’m just busy. I have work to do.” What, implying that Gabriel doesn’t?

Sam tries to summon up a stern tone to respond with but instead he just ends up sounding tired. Defeated. And he is. He’s been tired for a long time, and he has no interest in sorting through the squabble in his head thst the events from a week prior had caused.

“Awee, c’mon Sam. You always have time for me… ,” I always have time for you! Yet, the thought goes unspoken as Gabriel pushes away from the doorframe; true to his Loki namesake, what should have been ten steps was two, and the book is taken from Sam, flipped over and…
“Would you knock it off? I do not have time for your bullshit right now. Didn’t then and I definitely don’t now. That was YOUR M.O., not mine.” Gabriel’s brows are furrowed at the presenting pages of the book. Although it seems like he’s interested, he’s not- he’s concerned by the response.

“It never bothered you before.” Now the archangel meets Sam’s eyes as the hunter grabs the book back, rather forcefully. They’ve rounded together between the shelves, the intensity in the air bristling with a rather bright ferocity.

Beneath worn plaid, Sam’s upper shoulders are drawn tight.
Gabriel’s a sight. He has been lately, not as put-together and high and mighty as he’d always seen him previously. He’s been left desperate by certain events, stumbled from whatever pedestal that had given him such haughty confidence before.

But Sam having a past now with Gabriel’s various brethren had also changed the dynamic. He used to be… so enthralled with Gabriel’s demeanor. He’d felt special, being graced by his attentions. Now… ? “Look,” hazel eyes glare at Gabriel’s feet. “I’m not in the mood for your little games. It’s not… ,” -honest attention. Sam swallows. No way he can say that out loud. No way he’d even admitted that internally. This was Sam Winchester; boy wonder of hell, vessel for Lucifer. A man who’d walked the line of innocence and had it ripped cruelly from his grasp more times than he could count. He’d prayed and tried to be holy, to ask for deliverance for himself and his family, and what had it ever gotten them? What had it ever gotten HIM?

This. There it was- the reminder that Gabriel only cared about fucking with him in the cosmic sense.

He’s openly frazzled and for once, the archangel says nothing. He has nothing to say. Face open but a tad slack, he studies Sam’s features carefully, openly- unlike how Sam is hiding his eyes. Good thing for the hunter too, because they’re clouded with emotion.

“What did I do?”

The space between Gabriel’s shoulder-blades itch. His throat shifts as he swallows.

“You didn’t DO anything.”

That was the exact problem.

Chapter Text

Time didn’t usually pass by this slowly for Sam Winchester…

Being in the bunker felt like a devil’s trap. Enclosed, stuck with his own thoughts and no one around safe to discuss them with. Laying on his bed, staring at the concrete ceiling, the all too familiar twang of Heat of the Moment flicks across the radio and his fist slams down on the receiver, switching the channel. Mere seconds tick past before curiosity gets the best of him and he clicks the channel back, arms neatly folding across his chest.

It wasn’t the first time he had begrudgingly listened to the lyrics.

“I never meant to be so bad to you
One thing I said that I would never do
A look from you and I would fall from grace
And that would wipe the smile right from my face-,”

Certainly was a… choice; lyrics alluding an Easter egg mention of angel’s grace.

Sam knew Gabriel didn’t do anything lightly even though he’d prefer others assuming such. He was a deep, overwhelming being; like any of the other archangels were; wild forces of nature, damned to be reckoned with or reconciled.

He’d just… thought maybe he was special to him somehow. That he’d had someone looking out for him in the way that Castiel had skirted over Dean for years, making attempt after attempt to keep the man out of trouble.
That thought (delusion, he reminds himself-) had comforted him slightly over the years. Gabriel hovered when it came to Sam Winchester- and had also taken a very rightful notice of the distance purposefully placed between them in the last week. He even had the gall to seem bothered by it.

Even the archangel’s feathers being ruffled by Sam retracting his trust sent him reeling.

As foxy as Gabriel was, of course Rowena had tailed him, hoping for a little happy ending following their heated… ah, discussion. Or so he’d initially, confidently assumed…

“Sorry black magic, but I have my sights set elsewhere right now.“ Color Gabriel surprised at himself. It wasn’t even that he was seriously setting down a boundary with the Sammy concerns adrift in his noggin (and his grace)- he just… wanted to play things easy right now just in case...

…on the off chance.

The archangel and the witch shared a look. A pretty, quirked smile comes to paint Rowena’s features, “Oh Gabriel. Have you heard of the red string of fate theory?”

Rowena neatly stoops down, perched with bent knees before Gabriel so she may peer into his eyes where he’s grumpily slouched in the kitchen chair and a single fine golden brow raises. “Of course I have... hardly my first rodeo around Earth’s orbit.” Although, he’d never heard of a witch powerful enough to actually see them. His response comes clipped and full of cunning.

The idea was that they existed, but only for a particular few. There were particular conditions that must be met, both for the string to appear and exist, but also for the string to be seen. “It doesn’t manifest how you’d think, dear.” Rowena’s black pencil skirt riding up against her pale thighs should have been more distracting than it presently was- instead, her words had his full attention. Attachments had always been avoided by the archangel; at least, lasting ones. Flings, a little nightly fun? Welcomed.

But the idea of having someone that mattered, that he could lose if he made just the right mistake?

Gabriel sits up in his seat.

Rowena’s cute features are centered with a sly, knowing gaze. Her eyes sparkle uncannily, beholding her hidden powers held under careful restraint. “You have one, deary.”

Gabriel snorts, attempting to be dismissive of the moment. Internally, he was very not chill about it. The red string theory was a soulmate theory. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, dollface; commitment isn’t really my thinggg.” Or being caught with his guard down. This was not the conversation he had expected to unfold.

And true to witch’s nature; Crowley’s bewitching mother stared, damn near boring holes through the back of his head. “I’ve noticed,” she chuckles, rising and shaking off the serious moment by turning, red nails flicking through the papers on the table.

“I ALWAYS know when something’s going on with you Sam- now spit it out!”

The roar of the 327 within the Impala’s engine bay wasn’t nearly distracting enough, even as Dean stepped on the gas and refocused his eyes back onto the road ahead.

There was room for petty argument to be had, surely. There was plenty of times the brothers had lied to each other and gotten away with it for a time. “You’ve been weird ever since-,”

A stop sign winks through the oncoming darkness and Dean slams on the breaks, jostling Sam forward so hard he almost smacks his head against the dash.
It’s a rather rough follow up to how he’d already started to physically react to oncoming conversation, breathing quickened and chest curling with his phantom cramps.

Sam’s on the down-low attraction to men was something that Dean joked about, not something they talked about. It was never, ever something openly discussed. Sam had explored as early as college, and a bit more later, throughout their time on the road. He’d enjoyed it in the past, but in recent years, riddled with post traumatic stress syndrome, he’d often felt more comfortable in the hands of women. He’d been similarly manhandled and abused by both sexes; and a colorful shade of different omnipotent beings. But if he was to seek out a quick lay, he was never searching for something that included the underlying tone of violence that many of his relationships often brought.

“What, Dean? Spit it out.” Dean was… both the last person and maybe the only person he was willing to discuss this with.

“Well, Gabriel bumping uglies with Crowley’s milf momma.”

Jesus Christ.
This was already going about how Sam imagined.

“It’s not-,” Sam ATTEMPTS to rebuttal before Dean swiftly cuts him off, “I mean- the floor seemed to open and swallow you right up that day- we’ve seen Gabriel get down bad and frisky before, I don’t understand what the big-,” “DEAN! It’s NOT like that.” They share eye contact finally across the center console. Sam fidgets, shifting in his seat- they’re still sitting at the stop sign, headlights lighting up the white and yellow lines drawn on the outstretch of gravel before the car. Sam attempts again, “Really, it’s not like that, Dean. I just-,” he’d have to divulge at least a half-truth if he was going to muddle his way out this conversation.

Sam’s large hands wring together in his lap.

“Just, I haven’t had the best track record with the heavenly host. I mean, you’ve been here. You have Castiel’s helping hand literally imprinted onto you-,” “Gross-,” “Shut UP, Dean! …and meanwhile, me and the whole demon blood plot, Ruby, being soulless- I thought there was at least ONE angel looking out for me. An archangel... After all of those years Azazel hung over my conscious and I really thought I was worth nothing more than what hell wanted for me. Gabriel kept continuously seeking me out, trying to forcefully show me a different path that wasn’t filled with as much hardship. He helped show me that I had a choice in the matter.”

“I haven’t decided if you’re avoiding the question or not yet.” Dean’s hands shift across the steering wheel as he gently hits the gas again and the Impala starts forward again with a low rumble in the dark.

“I don’t know, Dean. Yeah, it bothered me.”

They sit in silence for a long while after that, his older brother digesting his words.

Chapter Text

Being around Dean so presently for his entire life has affected him, surely.

Sam had been soulless, Dean played his cards the way he wanted and then blamed him when the hand fell apart. Afterwards, Sam tried to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean and Dean flipped out and held it against him.
Dean blamed him for killing Charlie. Mark or not… Sam knew how to hold a grudge.

Almost everyone is surprised that Sam and Gabriel still aren’t getting along. Sam isn’t talking to him much, giving the archangel the endless cold shoulder. It is satisfying, in a way. This should have been the way he was treating Gabriel from the very start. Distrust should be held steadfast for a being that plays as many games as the Trickster does.

How many times had he faked his death now? How many times had the boys looked the other way while he ran and hid and never once felt stricken with the need to help out? And then he had the gall to put his hands all over Rowena in their home. Rowena, who had felt Sam up plenty of times and played tricks on them and…

Sam had plenty of reasons to keep himself mad at Gabriel. He could just keep ticking numbers off the list as the days passed by.

If anyone was familiar with shaking off an archangel, it was Sam Winchester.

Dean leaves them in the Impala for five whole minutes, tops.

Sam’s in the front passenger seat and Gabriel’s perched restlessly, sitting behind the driver’s side but leaning forward to leer at Sam, who was already internally rolling his eyes about how Gabriel always chose to sit behind Dean’s seat.
Whatever, at least that forced the more mild manner of the two behind him. Better Cas than risking Gabe pressing his knobby knees into his back through the seat to get his attention.

The archangel slaps a familiar hand against Sam’s shoulder to get his attention. He certainly was not a big fan of being ignored, and he’d sat silent quite long enough.

“You know Sam, we really do have such a long history together.” Interesting start he had going on back there, but Sam’s attention has finally been drawn away from the passenger side window. “And I can’t believe that after everything we have been through, that you’d be so… mean to me.”
There it is.

The hunter can’t help but sigh and roll his eyes. They seem so incapable of steering their conversation towards the intended serious topics that sit between them.
Sam still avoids turning at all to face the back seat, training his eyes through the windshield and considers breaching the initial subject.
“Why Rowena?” The scathing isn’t hidden in his tone.

“What do you mean?”

“In my library. In my home.” Now Sam’s just being petulant and petty. The archangel is at a loss for words for but a moment before viciously moving a bit closer, towards the center console. The archangel argues? “What’s so bad about Rowena? She’s foxy, knows her way around.” “She’s Crowley’s mom, for one.” “So, she’s a milf, what’s the issue?”

Sam whirls around in his seat.

They were both younger brothers, both at ease with the flow of argument and letting that irritation take hold and manifest in a way that was supposedly healthy. They’re doing it now, posturing and weighing options on how best to duke it out.

Their eyes locked over the center console diagonally between them, Gabriel can see the lawyer in Sam putting a statement together and in a scramble he says something that he knows will end the conversation— for now.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

The lack of effort he has to put forth to put Sam back in his place is hilarious. The hunter whirls back around, back straight against the passenger seat as he grits his teeth.

To be continued then…

Sam was really, genuinely jealous of Rowena? Enough so to admit it even… and Gabriel had the grace to not openly acknowledge such conversationally, because it Sam is jealous and he points it out, then he has to do something about it.

His conversation with Rowena? He’s already known about his whole soul bond with Sam Winchester. Gabriel has decided to take a back seat to interest in that particular fate.
It isn’t that he isn’t interested in Sam, but he was afraid of what they’d become. How for now, he gets to see and experience the hunter without outside pressures. But there was no inside enjoyment, and Sam clearly… was suffering enough to keep him mad for some number of weeks.

Gabriel’s never given any thought to being a good mate. He’s always been flighty and disloyal, who would want to keep him at their side when he was as unreliable as he was? He often spared others the trouble and took a reasonable step back from certain situations before the emotions started to get too hairy.
He couldn’t take a step from Sam. He had never been able to- from the start, years ago to the present day. Sam’s troubles bothered him, him holding such a grudge over his single life was bothering him.

They’re alone again later that night, some four hours later. The hunt leaves them crouched behind a partition, on watch. Dean kept pressing Gabriel towards Sam hoping they would either talk or fight or kiss or all of the above to get their little issues over so he wouldn’t have to deal with the continuing thunderstorm of tension in the Impala.

Gabriel can already tell he’s in for it.

The hunter adjusts, both his back against the wall as well as this thumb against the silver draw of the gun before sighing.

“Maybe I expect too much from you, Gabriel.” A sigh, voice hushed as they’re still attempting to remain undetected. “I just keep telling myself you care about me, and I forget that you only care about yourself.”

Ouch. Gabriel stifles an open wince- he’d expected a speech or a question, but not… that.
“I do care about you, Sam.”

The archangel has no reason to lie. But he also has no reason to be overly attached to some hunter that’s made a fair amount of fuck-ups.
Gabriel fidgets at his side.
“Then you’re a coward! You have no reason to be coming with us on hunts. You hang around me constantly, but you can’t seem to find the words. I’m not going to say them for you— you’ve had a millennia to figure that shit out.”

The archangel may have made the conscious decision not the bite, but he hadn’t planned on Sam seeing through him and being so vocal about it, so hurt.

The treatment is fair, he supposes. That’s what he deserves for singing such praise about Rowena to the man he knew to be his true mate.

Chapter Text

This whole ridiculous tirade had lasted for a month and Gabriel had nothing to show for it.
Sam was probably right. Just like any other age gap relationship, he was withholding information and playing with Sam’s feelings. Eldritch beings didn’t have any business involving themselves with mortals.

‘I do care about you, Sam.’

What a weak affirmation. It hadn’t done anything to tame the Winchester, if anything he’d just… let it fall flat. Gabriel argued against often, but never for. It wasn’t crazy for Sam to feel toyed with. Gabriel was toying with him, all the time, without truly meaning his presence in such a manner.

He wanted to enjoy Sam Winchester without the trials and tribulations.

Which he hadn’t been entirely successful in. He’s once told Sam to play his part, told him to say yes to his brother. Had that been because of how scared he was of what could be?
The archangel had a lot to mentally unpack, and none of it should come to sit on the lap of the other man whose thoughts were already constantly too full. Sam Winchester didn’t need to bear the weight of Gabriel’s conscience on top of his own.

“I wish you two would just- do whatever it is you need to do, I don’t care if it’s a brawl, I don’t care if it’s getting down and dirty in the back of the-,” “DEAN!” Sam’s glare silences his brother from his tirade about his little prat with the angel. His answer isn’t going to do anything to assuage the conversation. “Besides, it’s not my fault, it’s his. His fucking ego.” Surprisingly, Dean doesn’t tell him to stop being such a girl about it.

Instead, he rounds the side of the vehicle and opens the driver’s side.

“When have monsters ever been known for their depth of heart? I mean when we first met Gabriel, he was living the full monster lifestyle, killing douchebags he thought were unrighteous on the daily. Not exactly the most moral archangel, his brothers are just making him look good.” As they settle into the Impala, Dean begins to add, “I mean, even Cas. Guy’s got layers, I’ll give him that. But he’s gone off the deep end almost just as many times as we have. Gabriel’s just out here making a show of killing himself instead of us when the going gets bad. He’s good at making himself look good, is what I’m trying to say.”

The synopsis went pretty deep. The younger of the two chews it over as he pulls out a paper roadmap.

“I was thinking the same things. I mean, I was his victim more than once. Just because he didn’t kill me, the memories aren’t exactly pleasant.” The Tuesday incident was one of the biggest reasons he carried such a complex about Dean’s death. Sam had suffered the guilt and reality of those Tuesday’s for months, and never felt like having to suffer Dean’s death again in the universe’s newest, most creative way.

Now they’ve sunk into easy talk as they start out on their journey.

“I can’t believe you like the guy.” Sam can’t believe Dean is actually re-delving into this conversation. “You must, because I’ve never heard you get a hair up your ass like this about another person.” What a way with words his older brother had… “I just- he’s basically made you his personal chew toy a couple times. Dude just was messing around with Rowena basically in our living room. The whole bad boy persona he’s got going on.”

Was it a bad boy persona? The idea actually makes Sam laugh before he can catch himself. He thinks of Gabriel as menacing of his own right, to some degree, surely. But the Winchesters had never ending gall when it came to monsters.

Lips purse together and Sam stares out the window, watching the morning clouds drift past, splendid blues and purples amongst sunshine.

“I can’t describe it. I know you don’t want to hear me say this, but maybe it’s just lust and I’m being stupid.” On cue, Dean groans, “Good morning… yeah, I can’t believe we’re talking about this- and so early, too.”

“You’re the one that brought it back up!”

This time, instead of trying to talk, Sam bided his time. They’re all out at a bar, Sam is already annoyed that Gabriel has decided to crash their routine evening.

There’s not as many prospective choices around the bar as he’d like, but he is confident. There’s a brunette with her friends off to the side, probably a few years younger than himself. And the bartender- a man a little older than himself with salt and pepper at his temples and a ponytail.

Sam tries his hand at the bartender first. It goes well, although trying to speak to someone in queer situations is always harder to gauge. Taking his beer, he figures he’ll round back. Although, he’s entirely unconvinced that he has Gabriel’s attention yet. In fact, maybe Gabriel doesn’t care like he’d initially thought.

It isn’t until he’s making his way towards his second target that Gabriel appears at his side.

The archangel seems to appear in a flash, although he hadn’t seen for sure. In the confusion, he reaches to take Sam’s beer entirely from his grasp and take a long sip, throat working with the movement. Sam watches, transfixed.
When he remembers himself at last, he says, “I’m- trying to get laid. Buzz off somewhere.” Anywhere.

“I see that. But I raise you— beer pong. If you win, I’ll answer one question. Anything you want.” Enticing reward, actually. “What if I lose?”

“I’ll just cash that chip with you at a later date. How’s that sound?” It isn’t the game that entices him, it’s the mystery. What reason does he have to appear and make such an offer, in a bar of all places? To distract him from his task at hand, perhaps? “Sounds suspicious.” Sam responds with at last, laughing and making to move past him.

Gabriel is far too familiar with playing dirty. The thoughts of their previous, heated conversations flash across the forefront of his mind. His instincts tell him to dredge up that conversation and freeze Sam where he stands, to keep the upper ground. But he’s trying to play nice and coy for now until he at least gains some ground back in their relationship. Most recently, even Dean had taken to giving him the cold shoulder. Surely, Sam wasn’t so upset that there had been open discussion amongst the brothers?

“Sam- wait. I’m sorry.”

Sam wants to scathe, ‘Sorry for what?’ but he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he takes his beer back and meets Gabriel’s eyes as he draws the tip of his tongue against the glass where Gabriel’s mouth had been before he takes a sip.

Oh. Well, the archangel hasn’t expected a play like that from the younger Winchester in the heat of the moment. Heat of the moment, ha—
When Sam lowers the beer, he looks at Gabriel through lowered lashes. “So?”

So? What a— what an absolute brat. Sam has managed within sixty seconds to rile him a considerable amount. How appealing it is, to have Sam playing with him so unexpectedly.
The archangel tugs the beer out of Sam’s grip and takes another sip before tipping it back to finish it, drawing his hand over Sam’s hip as if to warn him as he slides by, “I’ll go grab you another one.”

What was happening? Sam still stands there, hand outstretched where his beer had been, slightly confused by the flirtatious turn of things despite being completely aware of his own actions.
But if Gabriel thinks he’s going to just give up the ghost and be appeased by some sexual tension— he would very much like to say that he’s wrong. But he’s not one hundred percent sure of his calculations on the matter…

When they find one another again, Sam has settled at the other end of the bar where it’s shadowed, surrounded by curtains and low light. Dean and Castiel are watching them, and they’re not being subtle about it. They’re at the opposite end, Dean locking eyes with Sam before the younger pointedly looks away. He’s not going to be able to keep his cold resolve with his brother staring at him like that.
“This is not a great spot. Dean’s mug is right across from me.” Sam laughs despite himself, “I thought you liked that. You always sit behind him in the car.”

The archangel’s heart squeezes. So, Sam was watching him too.

“Can I just have the reward? Since you owe me?” Sam asks boldly as a second of his favorite IPA is settled before him like an offering.
Gabriel’s knees bump against Sam’s as he climbs onto the stool beside him and Sam makes a point of moving further away. To ask to have the reward without winning was only supporting Gabriel’s brat claims from earlier… would he spoil him?

The answer was yes. “What will you ask?” An unruly counter. Anything, he’d promised, but his response sounds dubious.

What does he want to ask? He doesn’t want Gabriel to tell him how he feels, he wants to earn that naturally. And he doesn’t quite trust him to answer earnestly…
And besides, Castiel and Dean are right there. A good thirty feet away (it was a large bar), but still. “You know, sometimes I wish I was still… broken. Soulless, addicted to demon blood… I’m so sick of being demure and palatable just so I can get a pat on the head from Dean.” Sam’s tongue passes over his lower lip, “I don’t want to be… evil. That’s not what I’m saying. I just wish I could be free and not have a choice in the matter. Because if I do, I will always choose hunting. Out of obligation.” And then that led to everything needing the stamp of approval from Dean.

Suddenly, Sam knows what he wants to ask him. Gabriel meanwhile is still reeling from Sam’s familiar confession.

“If we had met under different circumstances… like if I was normal. Would we have met? D’you think you would have talked to me?”

What a storied past they had. Why was Sam even giving him the time of day? He watches the other, suddenly all too aware of how attractive he is under the low light, his reddened cheeks and mussed hair.
When he reaches for the beer this time, his fingers clasp over Sam’s before he respectfully adjusts and withdraws, taking a long drink. It was a little intoxicating, passing back and forth like a couple and wondering if anyone might notice. Not known for his subtlety, the gentle flirtation they share is refreshing.

“Yeah, I think we would have met, regardless. And I definitely would have talked to you.”

Gabriel takes a long drink and feels the gentle, long-forgotten itch for a cigarette.

He can’t tell Sam about their connection, no way. He’s too worried about his reaction from Gabriel already knowing because, ‘for how long did you know?’, will be the second question.

Chapter Text

It’s Rowena’s last day flitting through their lives for the time being— finally drawing her books and papers together from their library tables.

For the longest time, her presence had sat right there on the edge of Sam’s vision each time he swung through to the kitchen or the ‘living room’… war room, whatever it was. He’s happy that this morning, as he grabs his coffee, he’ll be seeing the last of her for hopefully a long while.

The witch keeps eyeing him as she drifts around, dipping her items into her little bag. There were so many mannerisms about her that reminded Sam of a woman the age she truly was- like some little granny, toting her knitting bag around. It didn’t take away from her appeal. Gabriel was right, she was foxy. She was a milf. It was annoying that he had to admit that.

“Sammy, dear- won’t you help me carry my things to the car?”

That was a great example.

Sighing, he relinquishes the caffeine to the counter for now before resolutely walking over to the small woman. “You have one bag, Rowena.” “I know, but you’re just such a gentleman when you want to be.” When you want to be. They’d had plenty of moments where Sam had shouted in the witches’ face, trying to get her to bend to some sort of scheme he was playing at. Maybe he was as bad as Gabriel, maybe that’s what he was missing about this equation.

Begrudgingly, he lifts her bag. It’s much heavier than it looks, perhaps he’d been wrong. “What do you have in this, bowling balls?”
Rowena simply snickers at him as they make their way up the stairs and out into daylight.

“I noticed you and Gabriel were talking with a bit more ease when all you boys got back last night. Did he finally discuss… well, you know, with you. I know what I would call it, but I’m not sure what he would, being an archangel and all.” He had assumed that Rowena would have some sort of extra angle to asking for his help, but this is pretty far from what he had expected. Raking his mind through their conversation from the night before, he’s still at a loss for what she’s talking about.

Apparently he’s let his poker face slip enough for the witch to ‘tee hee’ as Sam slips her bag into the trunk of her current vehicle.

Swallowing, whatever it is, he’d prefer to not hear it from her. If he’s clever and asks what she would call it, trying to use sarcasm to cover his confusion, she might tell him and he’s not sure where the conversation is going.
Clearing his throat, he snaps the trunk closed. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh- well. Oopsie! I probably wasn’t supposed to mention that-,” her tiny, manicured hand squeezes at the man’s bicep. “It’s a pretty big deal, you know. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you.”

Well, now he has that to think about. They hadn’t been overly cozy upon their return the night before. If anything, he’d just allowed Gabriel to linger in his presence while he mulled over the other attempting to be closer. He’s been so worried about getting played, he supposes now that he already has, several times over.

The earlier sigh carries miserably as he finishes packing Rowena into her car and makes for the bunker doors, suddenly tired of being outdoors despite the pleasant, warm breeze.

How could there even be something else on top of the melodrama they’d already suffered? At first, he was unsure Gabriel could hold a torch for him. After all, his own background was filled with turmoil. And then once the other started to get worried and in his space, he started to think otherwise and that only widened the gap because… why would the archangel always be working to put distance between them if he liked him?

Why would Rowena want to cause more discourse between them?

Just desserts come swift.

They pass in the hall, Gabriel is trailing behind Dean as he gabs and his eyes dart to Sam’s approaching figure.
Sam, clean jeans on, shirtless after a shower. There’s a couple of love bites along the crook of his neck- a little unlike him. Usually, he only reserves the right to women…

“Good morning, Gabriel.”

The archangel’s eyes are about falling out of his head and Dean smacks him. When he and the elder Winchester lock eyes, Sam long gone, Dean’s glowering at him.

“Can you not eye fuck my brother in front of me!?” “I wasn’t- just took me off guard is all. Normally, I’ve got guards up to here, you didn’t tell me your brother was home!” “Because it’s his home, I shouldn’t have to!” Hilarity ensues, Dean attempting to drag the archangel who tries to dig his heels into the floor without finding any purchase.

“So Sammy definitely had company last night-,” “Drop it, Gabriel!”

Sam had never been a huge fan of one-night stands. Whenever his hormones spiked, he had options; either he could take care of himself or… he could go the route his brother had taught him painstakingly early, the art of the hunt. Taking up someone for one single night of release and then not looking back.

The Winchester brothers were certified heartbreakers, though Sam didn’t have a list of too many he’d been overly attached to over the years. There weren’t many who had convinced him to settle or look back. But there had been a pure satisfaction to taking to someone to bed this last time. Sitting atop the other man, all he’d been able to think about was how he was playing the revenge card towards Gabriel. In fact, he’d thought about Gabriel a lot.

That had never happened before. Surely, he’d had his private musings and longings but he’d never had the archangel consume his thoughts in such a way. The tension between them seemed to be reaching a fever pitch, Sam’s skin had crawled at their chance encounter in the hallway, head held high.

And when they cross later, it’s outside. Evening has begun to fall and there was someone Sam had to go question in the vicinity about a case. He could pick up some food on the way. He’s just reached the Impala when Gabriel comes bounding up from a distance. “Hey!” Here we go. “Dean told me to come with you. So you don’t forget the pie.”

Yeah, just because of the pie, surely.

They settle in, sunset cast over the onyx of the Impala’s hood.

“You’ve been with Dean all day and now you’re only coming because he told you to? I’m starting to feel neglected.” Jealous would be the wrong choice of word after his actions the prior month. But Sam is bold enough to sarcastically pout at him from the driver’s seat.

Gabriel looks… great. There’s a product in his hair thats keeping his locks poised in a certain debonair way. His clothes look a little more polished than his usual daytime garb.

“I doubt you’ve been feeling neglected.” It takes Sam a second before he realizes the other is talking about the marks on his neck and his cheeks turn red before he can fight it. He had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about and there had been no speck of embarrassment from the other when they’d discussed Rowena recently. “How do you know? Maybe it was unsatisfactory.” Hands gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, the hunter fixes the angel with a fighting look. Or tries, but the other isn’t meeting his gaze just yet.

“Well, whose fault would that be?”

The frustration that he feels isn’t anything new, in fact it’s almost constant where Gabriel is involved. He’s sick of not having the upper hand. “Rowena told me something very interesting this morning.” He dares, trying to gauge Gabriel’s reaction and watch the road at the same time.

Gabriel’s never been in the car when Sam is driving. It’s hot, seeing him in the driver’s seat of the Impala, all tight jeans and business. He wishes the circumstances were under different duress, but alas. He’s having a hard time not watching the other, being dismissive of their conversation, until Sam speaks of that little tidbit of knowledge that only he and Rowena had spoken of.

Still, the archangel doesn’t panic.

“What did she say exactly?”

Sam had hoped that Gabriel would take the bait with how he had worded it and confess to whatever information was being withheld, but he was smarter than that. He does seem tense, however…

“She asked if we had finally discussed… some archangel thing that witches have another name for.”

Fuck. Well, that was just enough information on the subject to cause the archangel to panic. He’d thought he could worm his way out of the back and forth of talking about it without fessing up a real answer, but the hunter was anything but stupid. Sam had been going to school to be a lawyer, garnering good grades each year. He continued to study and research and put together his monster cases as if they were true defense case files. If he didn’t give Sam some sort of answer, he wouldn’t be able to let it go and he’d dig and eventually find some sense of an answer on his own.

But he wouldn’t leave it alone.

Still, he supposed if Sam had to search then that bought him a bit of time, right?

“It’s something important that I don’t want to talk about with you right now. It’s not the time or place.”

What did that mean? Eyelids flutter and his cheek muscles tighten but for a long moment, Sam stays quiet. This back and forth progress they’ve been making with one another is making his head spin. He wants to pull over and reach over into the passenger seat. To strangle Gabriel or to kiss him breathless he’s not really sure—

“I don’t understand-,” Sam’s foot slams down on the break and the tires stutter, he guides the axles through the violent bump, but Gabriel’s nose slams into the dashboard.

Not able to help himself, he’s alight with laughter. Gabriel is not, in fact the bridge of his nose is trickling a bead of blood from where the contact had scraped the skin off, leaving a little smear on the tan upholstery.

“Thats what you get for not wearing your seatbelt, asshole. Being an angel doesn’t mean you can’t fly through a windshield.”

At the mention of flying coupled with his species and the imagery, Sam begins to laugh harder.

Gabriel supposes that it’s what he deserves.

Chapter Text

Plenty of time had passed where Gabriel has known that Sam was his mate and he still doesn’t know how to tell him. Sam, at least, wasn’t just an average mortal. He had associated with monsters enough and was associated with monsters enough to understand the depth of what he had to present to him.

Was it the fear of rejection? Like the fear of failure, putting something off because he didn’t believe he could.

He’d loathed seeing marks from another on Sam nights previous. He understood what it must have felt like now, standing in those shoes.

Just because he had made his decision about the information didn’t mean he had the right to withhold it from Sam. If he presented it, he’d have to argue what his point was in not pursuing a relationship, in not being more present.

There was a comfortable familiarity among the team of rag tag hunters. Almost… like family.

Dean had become more familiar with him recently despite the strife. The vessels of Lucifer and Michael were becoming more family to him than his own true archangel brothers had been.
At least, they’re at ease and able to enjoy the mortal world alongside him. The whole pursuit of good does feel like the original point, even though he’s not quite as invested as the boys or Castiel. Later on, he’d been involved because Sam had wanted him to be. He’s tried to stand up for him to make up for lack thereof in their earlier relationship.

They’d taken to watching one another more. There had been a crossroads between them recently where the flood had broken and once Sam could no longer keep silent, Gabriel struggled. He recognized the events now as a steady sequence.

What was he supposed to say… we’re soul bonded, you’re my true mate as an angel. Oh, and I’ve decided we can’t be together.

He’s sure Sam Winchester is going to take that great.

Feathers officially ruffled, he sticks to the boys like glue for the following week. The younger brother he’s so keen on doesn’t make any more moves to seek out company, but he also doesn’t ghost around Gabriel. He’d thought he would be keen on asking him, but perhaps he truly has given up on him and he’s trying to find the answer on his own.

He’d bet money that Sam has already asked Castiel what he thinks of the information, as he’s noticed there’s suddenly been group conversation on their relationship. The boys were unashamedly resourceful.

Unconsciously, Gabriel had begun to preen. Being around the one he knows to be his true mate has him focusing more on his looks, keeping his appearance sharper. There had been a notable change in his outfits and cologne. He’d encountered the feeling before, with Kali. But with Sam things were different. It was despite himself. He didn’t want to give in, but he didn’t have another choice. Another one of those pesky monster things.

Sam is waiting for him. He’s waiting on him. It’s embarrassing really, how long he’s lived and how lost he is in the moment with this obligation on his hands. Being mates was like being married. There were rites thst had to be followed to make claim, but Sam’s presence had been like an itch at his collar ever since the beginning. And boy did he think about the beginning a lot. Sam had flirted with him back then, a lot more inexperienced with romance than he is now. Gabriel thought about that a lot- what it would have been like to have bit back then, to have been by his side this entire time.

He hadn’t fully realized until they’d met the second time. The Tuesday incident. He’d realized as he’d been being hunted the second time around and he would admit that in his panic he had taken it out a bit on the Winchester. And it had been cruel. It had been an act very like his brethren, to find something new and loved and then try to crush it under his fist.

Sam would have every right to want to disregard him and find love elsewhere, and here he was, getting mad that he laid hands on a witch in his library. He was an indignant, beautiful creature.

But he was also a hunter. And he was a Winchester- a vessel, the true vessel for Lucifer. Lucifer, one of the biggest betrayals in his life. He’d looked up to the other until his fall. Even now, he thinks he falls into his footsteps largely at times, never really taking present situations seriously- letting his power get to his head sometimes.

He should be apologizing to Sam and begging for hand. Explaining, apologizing and begging— in that order.

He was a coward, Sam was right.

One day, he feels as if maybe he’s being too ceremonious. Waiting for the right moment just ignite more fire. He can feel Sam’s presence lingering in his room, so he follows the scent of him, knocking on his bedroom door.

Waiting was a bit agonizing. But eventually, Sam offers, “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Gabriel. Was hoping to talk to you about what Rowena mentioned to you earlier this week.” The longer he waited, the worse he looked. But look at how long he had waited when Sam had been none the wiser…

“Come in.”

It’s the evening. Sam is dressed, but in slightly different clothes than he’s seen him in. Jeans and a black button-up, half undone and sleeves straight as if he was trying things on.

Sam is watching him, no socks on, perched at the edge of his bed. He’s waiting for him to speak.

Gabriel’s hand finds the back of his neck, uneasy. “Rowena had no right to mention this to you. And I should have told you sooner. But… you’re mortal and the idea of having some sort of metaphysical connection with someone like me is big and scary. Being Lucifer’s vessel landed you in the cage.” Sam seems piqued, but more than piqued. He’s hanging on the edge of every word because Gabriel hasn’t gotten to the point yet and he’s scaring him.

Sighing, he shifts his weight and brings his hands back together in front of himself.

“Not all angels have intended vessels. You boys know it’s a bloodline thing. And archangels, certain other angels that were created first and hold power… or are of important status have true vessels. Kind of like that principle… not every angle has a mate.”

There’s a moment given in his speech, intended for the point to sink in. And it does, Sam’s eyes widening, brows drawing together. Upset or… the only word the archangel could think of to describe it was— stricken. He looked stricken with this sudden knowledge, which…

“Your soul is tied to mine. Kind of. It’s just like how you said no to my brother.” It was kinder to not mention him by name during this conversation. “It would have to be consummated. So right now it’s just a loose connection… but it exists.”

Wasn’t what he had expected.

Sam frets to be sitting.

First, “I’m— your mate?”

Digesting the new truth of their juggled around feelings is enlightening and terrifying. In a way, this coupling mimicked his time with Ruby. There was this impact of realizations; how many things did he have to rethink now and question under this newly presented information?

Perhaps his brother liked to fumble and repress his emotions, but Sam liked to ride his out, lest he get himself into trouble. He’s at a loss for words, frankly.

“Yes.” What more can he respond with?

Sam finally moves, pushing up each of his sleeves. Finally, elbows meet his knees so he may drop his head into his hands with a grown.

Dealing with Gabriel had always proved to be tricky, but this?

“Explain to me what that entails. Don’t make me have to dig and find out on my own.” Very wifely of him to warn him like that— I’ll be mad if you eat my leftovers. Gabriel would smile if he wasn’t trying to gain some sort of forgiveness as he works his way up to a final decision.

Gabriel finally makes the move to sit beside him. They’re not touching, but the presence of one another is admittedly comforting.

Sam doesn’t yet lift his head from his hands.

“It’s marriage, essentially. It’s an instinctual bond that I have with you. And it does have to be consummated with rituals and… ,” this was proving to be just as hard as he thought it would be. “You saw yourself marrying some young blonde girl and becoming a lawyer, not settling down with some archaic angel like me.” When Sam lifts his head, he looks vaguely panicked. Without being able to know his emotions, not wanting to press forward to mingle with him behind anything human, he’s helpless to just watch.

How long have you assumed that? Does he know if he wants otherwise to warrant himself saying ‘assumed’? Sam’s head is spinning.
“How long have you known?”

There it was. The big, dreaded question. Now, his breath stills in his throat as he knows this is going to cause controversy whether he likes it or not. But the playing friend was different now. Maybe…

Maybe he could skip past the fact that he’s known for a while, that he found out during the Tuesday incident. And not even for the greater good—
“Sam… you didn’t like me- being physical with Rowena. Enough so to verbalize it to me. I think it’s safe to say you’re at least fond of me.” It’s said softly, cautiously. He feels like he has each hand over a flowing river- neither will stay dammed unless he uses both hands but in order to do that he must let one flow freely; pick a poison.

“I’m attached to you, I’ll admit. But. I think giving in to what was written for me isn’t a good idea.”

Meaning… if he knew Sam was his mate, then he was meant for him all along. It was most likely written that way by Chuck, and so he was wary of giving in. He’s telling him that he doesn’t intend to give in.

“You’d- Gabriel, how long have you known about this?” Well, apparently he was going to have to let both rivers flow freely. He’d really thought that him announcing he wasn’t going to act on the mate thing would slow this process down.

“Tuesday.”

That’s all he has to say. Sam knows very well he doesn’t mean this Tuesday- he means that second hunt they’d encountered him on, whatever fateful day that had been. His own personal Groundhog Day of hell that stood second only to his time in the cage, a highlight of aggregation in his past.

Sam stands suddenly, “Just, get out. Get out of- my room, the bunker, my life.” A hand fitfully runs through his hair as he backs up, trying to find some sort of ground or solitude from the culmination of everything. “I have given you my trust so many times. Just for you to hide this from me, and when you finally reveal it, it’s after knowingly playing with my feelings… for weeks!”

The archangel had known and still slept with Rowena in his home.

Winchesters weren’t exactly known for well-tamed tempers. It shouldn’t surprise him when Sam lunges at him, but at least after he gets socked in the face, he’s pressed between Sam’s bed and Sam, crouched over his hips from where he’s pounced him.

“You are insufferable! What, did you only tell me so you could break the news? Oh, you’re intended for me, as my lover, by the universe. You must disgust me because I’ll fuck anything else but you- you—,” he can’t finish his tirade, he’s too upset. The large hands that held at Gabriel’s jacket ease. The angel’s smaller but deft hands had come to hold the other man’s wrists- they hover close to one another against the side of Sam’s bed.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think he had upset Sam to tears.

In fact, as Sam’s energy shifts to that of defeat, he falls onto the bed unceremoniously beside Gabriel and covers his eyes with a forearm.
Here they are, surrounded in Sam’s scent. As much of his denial as he’s made the other face, this is undeniable to him as an angel. His mate, in his bed. His instincts registered it as a nest— upset, and it was all his fault?

“Sam?” His hands find the hunter’s broad shoulders, and when he pulls him closer, he doesn’t meet any resistance. Sam’s upper half curls across his lap and he has all he can do to gulp down a breath. It made his mouth dry, having an upset Samuel curled against him. What had he said earlier again?

‘You don’t disgust me’, was too light of an affirmation.

Gabriel cards fingers through Sam’s hair. He thinks on how Sam resists, even now, allowing Gabriel to see the physical proof of how much he’s hurt him.

“Sam, when I met you, I thought you hung the moon and stars in my sky. You were a hunter, sure. But I was a trickster. Still, I’m cautious. I hoped when we met again, things would be different. And then I realized the grander scheme of things.” Fingers curl idly through brunette locks and one of Gabriel’s hands falls to one of Sam’s shoulders.
“Look at how your enemies hold your brother against you. The things the two of you have had to do for eachother to stay alive and in the profession that both of you knuckleheads can’t help but pursue?” His hand rests heavy on the top of Sam’s head. “What would they do if I was connected to you in such a way that I would… ,” he swallows. He doesn’t want to voice the depths of what he’d do to keep Sam safe if they were bonded. Now, it’s not an obligation. It’s an afterthought. He allows the other out of his sight, hears about the Winchester tales and gospel later on and cringes at the ups and downs.

When Sam finally raises, hands grasp at Gabriel’s lapels again. Not having paid it any mind before, his face is sore where Sam had knocked the snot out of his snout. It burns under the pressure as Sam grabs him and yanks him into a bruising kiss. Sam’s face is wet, he registers somewhere in between the moments of warm, lingering lips.

“You’re an asshole.” A fist thumps against his chest and Sam settles his forehead against Gabriel’s shoulder.

And Gabriel… lets him.