Secret Santa for Quing Nerd, SPN (Embarassingly delayed part 3 added)

[SexualOddity]

Hey Quing Nerd

So, I think you're amazing, and I'm completely honoured to be writing for you this year. What I have planned is three separate short stories, the first of which is below. Gabriel... Some of this stuff is a out of my comfort zone so, while it'd be great to hear what you like, I hope you will also let me know what you didn't, what you would like to see more/less of etc. I'm more than happy to build any feedback into your next two stories. I really want to make this work for you, and it's a good opportunity to take direction. There will be no hard feelings, I promise.

That aside... Merry Christmas!

--

#1

(Warning for language and suggestive dialogue)

Dean nudges open the basement door and peers inside. No water on the floor, that’s a good start right away, but there is definitely something scratching about in amongst a pile of broken down furniture in the corner.

He should be waiting for Sam. He promised, for one. And on top of that… Well, he can’t quite shake the memory that the last time he pulled a stunt like this, he wound up in a Hospital bed listening to some well-meaning sap in a labcoat cringing his way through an explanation of how he had three weeks left to live.

But this thing has been getting the jump on them for days. Kids are dying. He has a taser right in his pocket and for the first time since they showed up in town, Dean has at least some kind of reasonable suspicion of where the asshole might be.

Screw it, he’ll just have to be more careful this time.

He stills his breathing and creeps across to the room, fingers tightening around the taser.

Nice and easy… no one’s in a rush here…

He crouches down at the side of an old sofa.

His nose itches.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

He can’t decide whether to be relieved or frustrated or embarrassed. Either way, he doesn’t need the flash of reflective eyes in the darkness to tell him that this is no kid-drowning-douchebag.

He rests a hand against the arm of the couch and turns his head away.

“Hhh… HHhGhNt! Sniff!”

The thing meowls threateningly as he reaches out and grabs it by the scruff of his neck.

“Yeah, whatever. You know, I don’t l-iii-ike you either. HAH’TSCHH!”

Scrubbing at his nose with one hand, and using the other to carry the furball at arm’s length, Dean reaches the bottom of the basement steps, tosses the cat in a general upward direction and shuts the door.

No more scratching. He’s just about to pull out a bandana to blow his nose and mentally add this to the list of things that Sam will never get to hear about, when a wardrobe rattles.

Fucking perfect.

He sighs, readies the taser once again and creeps across to the wardrobe. Gathering himself, he closes his grip against the handle and yanks one of the doors open in a creak of wood and rotten joints.

There’s a scuttle of paws and claws as another cat darts past him and scampers away into the room.

“What in the Hell?” Dean mutters, watching it go.

When he turns back towards the wardrobe he can’t believe what he sees: a whole troupe of cats tumble out of the still-closed right-hand door.

Seven… Eight… Nine…

Where are they coming from?

“You’ve got… to… be… Huh!”

Oh God. Dean swipes irritated tears out of his eyes. His breath comes in short little helpless pants. The tingling in his nose, in his sinuses, his throat, is becoming fucking irresistible. He scrambles in his jacket for a bandana. Shit. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“HEH’GSHH’Uhh! HhhGSHHUH! HhTCHhCHYEW!”

He staggers in the direction of the staircase, tripping over and kicking cats along the way. Jesus… They can’t still be coming out of the wardrobe.

“Hehhh… HUH’ASHHHAHhh!”

There’s a low whistle from behind him.

“Well, Gesundheit!”

Dean turns. And suddenly everything makes sense.

“I should have fucking knuhh…known-HhhGSHHUh!”

Gabriel grins as he leans against the wardrobe, shutting the door with a wave of his hand and mercifully, finally, stopping up the endless flow of cats out into the basement. He spins a cellphone between his fingers.

“This is what you get for not returning my calls, ya’jackass.”

“We’re hunting a… HKK’SHH! A… G’SHH! A Rawhead. Sniff! Ugh. Asshole.” He adds, as an afterthought.

“Oh that?” Gabriel reaches round the back of the wardrobe. When he straightens he’s holding a wrinkled, oversized ugly-ass head. “I killed it.” He lifts it by its stringy mass of hair. “Kinda appropriately named when you look at it like this.”

Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose. “You have to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“Hh-CHhuH! EhhCHuH! If you c-uHhh… If you care so much there’s an uhh… huHhh… Sniff! An Apocalypse we could use your… Hah! Your… help… with… Huhh-USHHHSHYUUW!”

“Now then, I think we’ve had this conversation…”

“AHhISHH-EW! HhhHISHHSHYew! HUHtCHEW!”

“Dean?”

“Ahh-ISHHShyew! HUHISHHSHYEW! AHHhh.. HAHhh…” Dean squints at the ceiling, the allergic prickling feeling so intense it makes his eyes cross. Of course, to his unutterable frustration, the whole sensation backs down without any real satisfaction. He grabs a hold of his nose and rubs furiously. “Can we just lose the frickin’ cats?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Mmm… Okay.” He clicks his fingers and almost all of the cats disappear. “Except this one.”

Dean wipes his face with his bandana and looks up to see Gabriel cradling the one remaining feline – a little longhaired tortoise-shell – in his arms like a baby.

“She’s my favourite.” Gabriel announces, rubbing its chin with the side of his fingers, while she purrs and stretches in his arms. “Look at that – she loves it. Little hussy. Maybe I should call her Dean.”

“HUH-ESHHH!” Dean sneezes violently into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Bless you,” Gabriel acknowledges. “So it looks like your afternoon just opened right up.” He conjures a box of Kleenex, and tosses it at Dean. “And just so you know, the little old lady your brother is interviewing, my own personal creation. Guaranteed to lead him down every possibly blind alley.” He smirks. “You’re welcome.”

Dean blows his nose and massages his sinuses. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Because ‘thank you’ was the very next word on my lips.”

“Hey Dean?” Gabriel asks him. “Ever made love inside of a wardrobe?”

Edited September 2, 2016 by SexualOddity

[tenderwarrior]

I loved this! Super cute!!

[SpamKey]

I'm still kind of new to Supernatural, but this seems totally in line with what Gabriel would do This was so adorable!

[Ciel]

aww i love this! all the cats tumbling out of the wardrobe cracked me up. poor dean!

[stephab13]

OH MY GOD

This is just such absolute perfection annd GABE and just... oh my God.

[gingerdean]

o.m.g....this is AMAZING. Wow...

Dean's horror as those cats just keep tumbling out of the wardrobe- lol! And then Dean trying to talk through the sneezing...until all he can do is keep ripping them out, and Gabriel is trying to grab his attention, but poor Dean is too consumed with the sneezing fit to respond. So much YES. And the spellings are incredible

[HPG]

Loving it.

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i just got here/saw this (retail holiday has been survived hallelujah)

I'm very excited oh my gosh thank you! Running commentary to begin in 3.... 2.... 1... BOOP

So, I think you're amazing, and I'm completely honoured to be writing for you this year.

AHH! Thank you!!!! oh my gosh i'm flattered!! I'm glad you're writing for me tbh you're A Good omg.

What I have planned is three separate short stories, the first of which is below.

THREE!??!? <3 <3 <3 <3

Gabriel...

*squeaks*

Some of this stuff is a out of my comfort zone so, while it'd be great to hear what you like, I hope you will also let me know what you didn't, what you would like to see more/less of etc. I'm more than happy to build any feedback into your next two stories. I really want to make this work for you, and it's a good opportunity to take direction. There will be no hard feelings, I promise.

OMG that's so considerate omg ok sure! I'll pm you any critique, tho i doubt there will be much I like your style. Aaaa i'm so excited tho ah ok i'm gonna squeal a lot below!!!

That aside... Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!!!

Now entering the Squeal Zone

He should be waiting for Sam. He promised, for one. And on top of that… Well, he can’t quite shake the memory that the last time he pulled a stunt like this, he wound up in a Hospital bed listening to some well-meaning sap in a labcoat cringing his way through an explanation of how he had three weeks left to live.

Not even at the "fun bits" yest and loving the continuity already, really sets the scene and gives it a feel. Like a context. Yaaas.

The thing meowls threateningly as he reaches out and grabs it by the scruff of his neck.

“Yeah, whatever. You know, I don’t l-iii-ike you either. HAH’TSCHH!”

Scrubbing at his nose with one hand, and using the other to carry the furball at arm’s length, Dean reaches the bottom of the basement steps, tosses the cat in a general upward direction and shuts the door.

This is so perfectly in character. I think the best part is that the cat allergy is canon. I am never going to be over that. Ahhhh, such a happy reminder <3

“What in the Hell?” Dean mutters, watching it go.

When he turns back towards the wardrobe he can’t believe what he sees: a whole troupe of cats tumble out of the still-closed right-hand door.

Seven… Eight… Nine…

Where are they coming from?

“You’ve got… to… be… Huh!”

OKAY EXCUSE ME THAT MANY CATS CAN'T BE NATURAL. THERE'S DEFINITELY SOMETHING ...... UN-NATURAL HAPPENING HERE. EXCITE.

also

Oh God. Dean swipes irritated tears out of his eyes. His breath comes in short little helpless pants. The tingling in his nose, in his sinuses, his throat, is becoming fucking irresistible. He scrambles in his jacket for a bandana. Shit. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“HEH’GSHH’Uhh! HhhGSHHUH! HhTCHhCHYEW!”

Oh god oh god oh god yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas

There’s a low whistle from behind him.

yas

“Well, Gesundheit!”

yAS

Dean turns. And suddenly everything makes sense.

“I should have fucking knuhh…known-HhhGSHHUh!”

Gabriel grins as he leans against the wardrobe, shutting the door with a wave of his hand and mercifully, finally, stopping up the endless flow of cats out into the basement. He spins a cellphone between his fingers.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS. SDHFKJLDG OKAY I LOVE THIS OH MY GOD HE'S I YOU WROTE I CAN ' T

“This is what you get for not returning my calls, ya’jackass.”

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Gabriel shrugs. “Mmm… Okay.” He clicks his fingers and almost all of the cats disappear. “Except this one.”

Dean wipes his face with his bandana and looks up to see Gabriel cradling the one remaining feline – a little longhaired tortoise-shell – in his arms like a baby.

“She’s my favourite.” Gabriel announces, rubbing its chin with the side of his fingers, while she purrs and stretches in his arms. “Look at that – she loves it. Little hussy. Maybe I should call her Dean.”

this is A D O R A B L E

“Bless you,” Gabriel acknowledges. “So it looks like your afternoon just opened right up.” He conjures a box of Kleenex, and tosses it at Dean. “And just so you know, the little old lady your brother is interviewing, my own personal creation. Guaranteed to lead him down every possibly blind alley.” He smirks. “You’re welcome.”

Dean blows his nose and massages his sinuses. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Because ‘thank you’ was the very next word on my lips.”

“Hey Dean?” Gabriel asks him. “Ever made love inside of a wardrobe?”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE <3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

So basically to sum up that was awesome and i can't believe there's more oh my god

dsfnjkldhsgjkdgfdglkfsndgklfdgjfng jfc dsfjkdlfgjkfdggf <333333 THANK YOU

[AngelEyes]

He grabs a hold of his nose and rubs furiously. “Can we just lose the frickin’ cats?”

Totally Dean!

“She’s my favourite.” Gabriel announces, rubbing its chin with the side of his fingers, while she purrs and stretches in his arms. “Look at that – she loves it. Little hussy. Maybe I should call her Dean.”

LOL, Gabriel.

Dean blows his nose and massages his sinuses. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Because ‘thank you’ was the very next word on my lips.”

Another Totally Dean comment.

I love this!

[SexualOddity]

Thank you for all the comments guys. I feel so encouraged.

QN - (Belatedly) Well done for surviving the retail holiday, and Happy New Year!

#2

Sam has long since learned that good things don’t come on a platter, so when he set out on this tentative, little, halting relationship with Cas, he was prepared for roadblocks. He perhaps wasn’t expecting something as mundane as a virus to feature as a noteworthy problem, but if he’s learnt anything from watching Cas’ attempts to interact with humanity it’s that things that are mundane are not necessarily simple.

Cas has his first human illness a couple of months after losing his grace. It isn’t serious–just a bad cold, actually, but it throws Cas for an absolute loop. Perhaps it’s not surprising. Cas was just getting used to the way his body worked when everything was thrown off kilter. Now, he feels like his temperature is oscillating out of control and, to use his words, his brain is running with a ‘serious processing delay’. On top of that the thing comes with a bucketload of sneezing and coughing and shivering, and Cas always was unnerved by the involuntary actions of his newly human body.

To begin with, all three of them were around to make sure that Cas knew how to look after himself, but when Kevin got sick, and then still tried to pull twenty-four hour stints decoding the Angel tablet, Dean booked him a Hotel room and put him on a week-long research embargo, away from the tablet and all of their reference materials.

The day after that, they picked up word of a hunt about fifty miles out. At first Dean talked about passing it on, because Sam was also sick by that time and Cas was unintentionally, but for all that no less definitely, hard work. Sam was holding up pretty well though. He’d had a runny nose and a scratchy throat for a couple of days, and since waking up that morning he couldn’t stop sneezing, but he still felt like himself, just perhaps a snottier version. As long as he could carry a box of Kleenex around the bunker with him, he’d been alright. Dean could use a break from ‘Sniffle central’ as he’d been calling it, and Sam actually liked the idea of a little time alone with Cas. All in all, it made sense for Dean to go.

That was around 10pm last night. Somehow, in the past fourteen hours, everything has gone badly wrong.

Cas woke up this morning suddenly feeling like he was drastically overheating. Sam woke up to prickling shivers and the realisation that the virus wasn’t just the nagging pest of a cold that he’d anticipated.

He dragged himself out of bed and found Cas trying to extract ice from the freezer with a hammer and pick. (Mental checklist: 1. Buy ice cubes. 2. Defrost the freezer. 3: Speak to Dean about the kind of example he’s setting). Thankfully, Sam managed to liberate all mining equipment and a broken bit of freezer door from Cas before could hurt himself. He’s also turned down the thermostat by a couple of degrees and laid cold washcloths on Cas’ face and neck. For all that though, Cas is still suffering: sweating and shaking and tugging at his collar as if it’s too tight around his throat.

“These are good too,” Sam prompts, handing over a couple of Tylenol before turning to cough into the back of his hand. “They should bring down your fever a little.”

Cas has just finished swallowing the second one when his forehead crinkles, his nose scrunches, and his eyes narrow in a struggle that is all too familiar.

“Oh God, Cas, please don’t do this.”

Sam doesn’t mean for it to sound quite so plaintive, but the morning’s activties have already exhausted him. And, God, he just wishes Cas would just relax, take his medicine, and follow instructions for once. Okay, shit. Sam’s an asshole.

Cas positively abrades his nose with the side of his fist and clenches his jaw in the hope of keeping his breath from hitching. He’s poker-stiff. He won’t say anything, but Sam knows that this whole process terrifies him.

Sam reminds himself of that, takes a breath and tries again.

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. It’s compl… com…” Sam steps back hurriedly and cups both hands around his mouth and nose. “UhhHSHHhUh! UhhSHUHhh!”

He pulls a couple of Kleenex from Cas’ nightstand to blow his nose. He’d be thankful for the timing, except that he feels like he’s been sneezing more often than not sneezing lately, so he’s more inclined to be irritated that it hadn’t happened sooner.

Sam can read the struggle in Cas’ eyes when he looks up: he wants to bless Sam but doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

“You see.” Sam cuts in, saving Cas the dilemma. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s perfectly natural.”

“Losing-huh! c’control of the v’vessel is vuhh… Is veeryyy…”

Cas’ eyes widen and he presses a fist hard against his nose and mouth.

“HuKSSsTt! ChHSHT!”

Sam can hear Cas’ attempt to close off the sound in the back of his throat, and he can only imagine how it must have worn out his already failing vocal chords, but at least he’s not bursting a blood vessel trying to hold it in.

“Bless you. You see – you didn’t lose control of anything.” He claps Cas on the shoulder. “You know what? There’s this stew that my Dad would make for us when we were sick. It’ll make you sweat, but it’s actually pretty good for working out a fever. You think you could give it a go? You need to eat something.”

“I’ll do whatever you think is appropriate.”

Sam winces. “You still got those lozenges I gave you yesterday?”

Cas pulls a sticky packet out of the bathrobe.

“Good. Take one. You sound hh-horrible-HhhCHhiSHhuhh!”

--

Sam’s hand shakes as he tries to chop the potatoes. He takes a long breath through pursed lips and massages his forehead, trying to gather himself. Everything is taking much longer than it should.

He sets his knife down a moment and rolls his sleeves further up his arms. He’s been shivering all morning, but in the past ten minutes or so, the kitchen has begun to feel overwhelmingly hot. The sensation is stifling – just like Cas has been describing it, as though the air is encasing him and making it an effort to breathe.

His nose twitches, and he presses at his nostril with the back of his wrist, trying to hold back sneezes long enough to free a couple of tissues from the box on the table behind him. It’s successful, just about, but turning so quickly sets off a wave of dizziness that isn’t helped by the unavoidable arching of his back as his nose burns and his breath shortens.

He lifts the Kleenex hurriedly to his face.

“Hhh... H’KKH’shyew! Hh’KSHHshyew!”

Fuck. They’re forceful, and they wrench at his lungs, scratch and his throat and heave him forward. He plants a hand on the table and leans into it heavily, snuffling into the tissue that is still at his face. He rests there for a minute, waiting for the room to settle. Something about the combination of the heat, the congestion and pressure in his head and the sudden movement has thrown him seriously off balance.

Eventually he turns back to the stew but he feels so Goddamn weak and pathetic. Even lifting his arm to pick up the knife is an effort.

He needs to get it together. Cas must have been feeling like this for days, and Sam had no idea. He’d assumed that the main cause of Cas’ discomfort was the novelty of the experience, and that his suffering was maybe twenty-five percent actual symptoms and about seventy-five percent adjustment. He’d made a promise to himself to look out for Cas, whatever happened between the pair of them. Now that he knows how bad this cold is, the least he can do is step up and do something more to help Cas to recover.

“Sam.”

Sam turns quickly, almost losing his balance again.

“What? What’s up? Are you okay?”

Castiel frowns. “I... I am the same.” He walks around the table to Sam. “But you feel much worse today.”

“I... uh...”

If it was Dean asking he’d probably try to deflect, but his aim has always been to be more honest with Cas, to try to avoid some of the tired old mistakes. Plus, Cas has this soul-penetrating stare, even as a lifelong hunter (read: professional liar), Sam’s not sure how long he could hold up under his concentrated scrutiny.

“Yes.” He coughs into his sleeve. “How do you know? I thought you didn’t understand human illness.”

“No, but I think I’m starting to understand you.” Cas regards Sam, inspects his face and his hand braced against the counter top. “You’re dizzy. And feverish. You should lie down.”

Cas wraps an arm around Sam’s waist then and tries to pull him away from the counter. He wants to resist, wants to cling on to his role as the caretaker, but goddamn is he tired... and Cas’s arm around him is all at once firm and gentle and reassuring. It’s the easiest thing in the world to capitulate, and to let Cas guide him back to his bed.

“Just let me turn off the oven, okay?”

--

“We do need to eat something, you know,” Sam says as they walked down the corridor, each footstep resonating painfully in his pounding head.

“We will find something later. I believe your brother left behind the remains of his takeout dinner.”

Sam’s stomach flops uncomfortably at the thought of Dean’s half-eaten burger and cold fries. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Y-yes. AaTschhh! HahChushhuhh!”

Sam looks up immediately, wide-eyed. He wouldn’t have believed what he heard if it didn’t happen again. Twice.

Cas blinks compulsively, tilts his head back and wrinkles his nose. He gives a shaky breath, cups his hands over his mouth and nose... and sneezes.

“Hh-AhIShhue! HahIshhhhew!”

It’s soft and wonderfully unrestrained. His throat still sounds tired, but there isn’t a hint of that painful repression.

“Cas – you sneezed.”

“I apologise.”

Sam stopped walking and grabs Cas’ arms. “Don’t. I mean – you just sneezed. You didn’t try to hold it back.”

“No.” Cas opened up the door to Sam’s room. “No. I realised that I need to trust you. You are very good at making things better.”

“I –" Sam squeezes his hand. "Thank you.”

Cas watches as Sam sits down on his bed. “Would you like me to read to you from My Big Book of the Human Body?”

Sam smiles. It’s a kid’s educational book that Dean had found in a Charity Book sale at the grocery store. Each night Sam had read Cas another page in an attempt to reassure him that none of his symptoms were out the ordinary. It’s still open on Sam’s desk in the corner.

“No, that’s okay Cas.”

Cas takes Sam’s hand and looks at him seriously, with fever-bright eyes. “Sam,” he told him, “I find it very reassuring.”

Sam laughs. He feels oddly lighter, even though his body is still aching and his head is still foggy. “Okay, okay, we’ll do it.”

Apparently very satisfied with that answer, Cas hops off the bed with more energy than Sam has seen from him all week. He flicks through the pages as he sits back down.

“Huh’ESHHUh!” Sam sneezes into his sleeve.

“Bless you.” Cas nods. “Actually, that is a good suggestion. I find this page particularly helpful.” He wraps an arm around Sam, lays the book out on his lap and begins to read. “Sneezing – also called sternutation – is your body’s way of removing an irritation from your nose...”

Sam rests his head on Cas’ shoulder, shuts his eyes and lets the words wash over him.

[Anilkex]

Holy shit...

Somehow, in the past fourteen hours, everything has gone badly wrong.

EEP!

He dragged himself out of bed and found Cas trying to extract ice from the freezer with a hammer and pick. (Mental checklist: 1. Buy ice cubes. 2. Defrost the freezer. 3: Speak to Dean about the kind of example he’s setting).

Laughed very hard, here.

And, God, he just wishes Cas would just relax, take his medicine, and follow instructions for once. Okay, shit. Sam’s an asshole.

Brilliant!

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. It’s compl… com…” Sam steps back hurriedly and cups both hands around his mouth and nose. “UhhHSHHhUh! UhhSHUHhh!”

HOT!

Sam can hear Cas’ attempt to close off the sound in the back of his throat, and he can only imagine how it must have worn out his already failing vocal chords, but at least he’s not bursting a blood vessel trying to hold it in.

Niiiiiiiice!

Sam’s hand shakes as he tries to chop the potatoes. He takes a long breath through pursed lips and massages his forehead, trying to gather himself. Everything is taking much longer than it should.

This ENTIRE F'ING SCENE IN THE KITCHEN was the best. Poor Sam! I loved how every detail of how he felt was so vivid and honest, woven with bits of commentary like how Sam wasn't going to repeat relationship mistakes.

I loooovvvvved this! (Read it twice already...need to read it again...)

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE MORE. THERE MORE. I AM EXCITE.

Running commentary in 3...

2....

1...

NOW ENTERING THE SQUEAL ZONE

ok tbh i was gonna do a quote-and-comment here but literally the entire first part is fantastic, i can't even, i would have to quote the whole damned thing. jesus crap. :heart:

He sets his knife down a moment and rolls his sleeves further up his arms. He’s been shivering all morning, but in the past ten minutes or so, the kitchen has begun to feel overwhelmingly hot. The sensation is stifling – just like Cas has been describing it, as though the air is encasing him and making it an effort to breathe.

His nose twitches, and he presses at his nostril with the back of his wrist, trying to hold back sneezes long enough to free a couple of tissues from the box on the table behind him. It’s successful, just about, but turning so quickly sets off a wave of dizziness that isn’t helped by the unavoidable arching of his back as his nose burns and his breath shortens.

He lifts the Kleenex hurriedly to his face.

“Hhh... H’KKH’shyew! Hh’KSHHshyew!”

c hris t

THIS IS PERFECTION <33333333333

Fuck. They’re forceful, and they wrench at his lungs, scratch and his throat and heave him forward. He plants a hand on the table and leans into it heavily, snuffling into the tissue that is still at his face. He rests there for a minute, waiting for the room to settle. Something about the combination of the heat, the congestion and pressure in his head and the sudden movement has thrown him seriously off balance

oKAY <33333

Castiel frowns. “I... I am the same.” He walks around the table to Sam. “But you feel much worse today.”

“I... uh...”

If it was Dean asking he’d probably try to deflect, but his aim has always been to be more honest with Cas, to try to avoid some of the tired old mistakes. Plus, Cas has this soul-penetrating stare, even as a lifelong hunter (read: professional liar), Sam’s not sure how long he could hold up under his concentrated scrutiny.

“Yes.” He coughs into his sleeve. “How do you know? I thought you didn’t understand human illness.”

“No, but I think I’m starting to understand you.” Cas regards Sam, inspects his face and his hand braced against the counter top. “You’re dizzy. And feverish. You should lie down.”

SO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE

Cas wraps an arm around Sam’s waist then and tries to pull him away from the counter. He wants to resist, wants to cling on to his role as the caretaker, but goddamn is he tired... and Cas’s arm around him is all at once firm and gentle and reassuring. It’s the easiest thing in the world to capitulate, and to let Cas guide him back to his bed.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaas

Cas blinks compulsively, tilts his head back and wrinkles his nose. He gives a shaky breath, cups his hands over his mouth and nose... and sneezes.

“Hh-AhIShhue! HahIshhhhew!”

The description: A+, and dat spelling tho I LOVE IT

“No.” Cas opened up the door to Sam’s room. “No. I realised that I need to trust you. You are very good at making things better.”

“I –" Sam squeezes his hand. "Thank you.”

i love this. oh mY GOSH. they are sO FRIGGING SWEET WITH EACH OTHER AND I LOVE THIS

IN conclusion:

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[AngelEyes]

Cas takes Sam’s hand and looks at him seriously, with fever-bright eyes. “Sam,” he told him, “I find it very reassuring.”

I can totally hear him saying this in his stoicly serious voice, serious expression. LOL

I love this!

[sierraplaid]

I'm still catching up on all the SPN fics posted over the holidays, so I'm sorry for the late comment!

Story #1 -- I love it. All the cats! All the sneezing! Gabriel! He's so much trouble and he's so much fun. You completely nailed his voice and between that and the perfect slow build of Dean's allergy attack this was really enjoyable to read. I loved so many things that you did with Gabriel in this, particularly the introduction with the low whistle , how he just casually admits to killing the rawhead, and how he gets rid of all the cats, except one.

“Hh-CHhuH! EhhCHuH! If you c-uHhh… If you care so much there’s an uhh… huHhh… Sniff! An Apocalypse we could use your… Hah! Your… help… with… Huhh-USHHHSHYUUW!”

GUH. I am a puddle. "Your... help... with..." just about did me in.

And Story #2 -- Cute! Sam and Cas are adorable (individually and with each other), and I second the above enthusiasm about the kitchen scene.

Can't wait to read #3!

[SexualOddity]

Hey, so, Quing Nerd, um... do you remember this SS gift?  Believe it or not, I hadn't forgotten that I'd promised you a third part.  I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long. I had a really rough start to the year, followed by a really exhausting pregnancy.  I have been continuing to work on this though, very, very intermittantly.  This part is definitely outside of my comfort zone, but I had to give it a go because of the scenarios that you mentioned it seemed to be the one that you were most excited by.  I hope that it works for you, and especially that you can forgive the hideous delay.

 

--

 

The motel entrance-way is dingy and dated and somehow exactly what Dean had expected.  There are deep crimson carpets and headache-inducing wallpaper that could have been spewed right out of a low rent porn movie.  He shuffles at the reception desk, uncomfortably aware of the reason why he’s here.  Trust Gabriel to pick something so on the frickin’ nose.  Still, at least he wasn’t zapped in with no warning in the middle of a hunt.  He mentally congratulates himself on having had the presence of mind set out a few ground rules.  Might as well count his victories while he can.

 

He hovers longer than necessary trying to drag conversation out of a clearly disinterested receptionist, and he realises that, yeah, maybe he is stalling a little for time.

 

The room, he’s told in a flat monotone, is up ahead of him on his right.  Great.  That makes it sound easy.  But one of two things are gonna happen when Dean knocks on the door.  Either he’ll open up a trap, and a whole fresh hell of screwed-up alternate realities; or else Gabriel’s offer is legit and he’ll open the door to an Archangel who is capable of creating screwed-up realities and who has taken a personal interest in putting him entirely at his mercy. 

 

Awesome.

 

Dean’s not sure there’s a comfortable ending for him here.

 

Still, God knows they’ve been dancing around this for long enough.  Sooner or later, it’s gotta be time to crap or get off of the pot.

 

Since all signs apparently point to sooner rather than later, he trudges down the corridor. 

 

When there’s no answer to his knock, Dean tries the handle, and opens up the door to an absolute wall of heat. 

 

Dean’s should have known better to expect a bed and a desk and the continuation of the crappy wallpaper.  What he actually finds is a row of wooden benches, occupied by the cast of Penthouse forum, all sitting side by side and modelling what looks like the same barely adequate bikini set.  Gabriel is sprawled out across their laps and Dean has an undeniable feeling of being late to the party.

 

“Uh... Hey,” he says. 

 

Okay, it isn’t exactly his smoothest entrance.  Give a guy a little time to process.

 

At last, Gabriel raises his head.  He blinks for a moment, and then his eyes widen. 

 

“Dean?  Dean.”

 

“Got it in one.”  Dean peels off his jacket and grins with what he hopes is the air of someone who has half an idea what’s going on.  “Or got it in two, I guess.  Not that I’m against the dramatic repeating of my name, but I figured we’d save it for later.”

 

Yeah, he’s still got it.

 

“Could have warned me to dress for the heat.”

 

Gabriel eyes narrow as though he’s considering this.  “Maybe it is hot in here...”

 

He waves a hand then and the temperature caves.  The mirrors fog and then disappear.  Dean stiffens from the shock of the change and suppresses the well-conditioned reflex that tells him: Spirit! And: Shotgun!  Before his eyes, the sauna room morphs into a frozen lake.  Gabriel sits at a picnic bench and the pin up girls grumble and wander off into the trees.  Dean’s kinda sorry he said anything.

 

He shrugs his jacket back on.

 

“Are you...” the gears turn as he struggles for an explanation, “trying to get a peek at my nipples?  Because I can think of a better way...”

 

But Gabriel’s head is flat against the table.

 

“Uh... what exactly do you want from me here Gabe?”

 

There’s no response.

 

“C’mon dude.  You gonna throw me a bone?”

 

“Sorry.  Wasn’t thinking,” Gabriel grunts.  The girls reappear at the wave of his hand, and with a flick of Gabriel’s wrist, Dean is looking at a row of men.  They’re dressed just about as inadequately as the Penthouse girls and are every bit as toned and... apparently, oiled, for the occasion. 

 

“Okay, alright!”  Dean holds up his hands in surrender and sidesteps one of the guys as he tries to make a grab at his hips.  “You’re gonna have to back up a few dozen paces here.”

 

Gabriel’s head remains rested in his arms, which are folded over the table.

 

“Listen, Gabriel, consider this me safewording you the Hell up.  I’m not opposed to role play or... whatever the Hell this is, but at least toss a rule book over here.”

 

Finally, lethargically, Gabriel’s head raises once again.  “I thought you’d... uh... HhH’GNnK!”

 

Dean blinked, the ready-protest having evaporated from his lips.  “Dude, did you just sneeze?”

 

“It wa... uh... HhhRhhhUHhhUh!”  There’s a long sigh.  “Fine.  Whatever.  You got me.  So I’m feeling a little under the weather.  Maybe forgot you were coming...”

 

“A little, what?”

 

“Oh you thought humans had the monopoly on... on... HhhRHSHHHUhh!”  Gabriel groans. 

 

Dean pushes a fur-clad underwear model away with the back of his hand, as if getting an unimpeded look at Gabriel could somehow inject any kind of sense into the situation. “You’re telling me Angels can get sick?”

 

“Why don’t you look around and draw your own conclusions on that one, b...uhh...buster...Uhhh...”  His brow quirks, his nose kinks, his eyes squint into the night air... “Urr’RAshhhSHhhshUWww!” 

 

 “Is this some kind of trick?” 

 

One side of Gabriel’s lips quirk into a half-hearted smile.  “Sorry to disappoint."

 

He gives a deep shiver, and then a frustrated wave of his hand.  Before Dean can look around, the lake has disappeared and the pair of them are stretched out on beach loungers, with the sun beating down at them from above.  Gabe’s little cast of male models reassemble, shrugging off their parkers and picking up these enormous leaf-fans that Dean swears came straight out of ‘Casa Erotica: House of Cleopatra’ (It’s a special interest, okay?)  The guys line up on either side of their beds and begin beating cool air in their direction.  Headspinning temperature changes and sneezing Angel notwithstanding, Dean kind of thinks he could get used to this, but when he looks over at Gabriel, his shirt is soaked in sweat.

 

“Okay, what is up with that?”

 

“With what?”  Gabriel mumbles, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger.

 

“Everytime you pull out that TV-land presto-chango crap, you turn about five shades paler.”

 

Gabriel shivers again and wraps himself tighter into his jacket.  “It’s not my fault someone keeps screwing with the thermostat.”

 

Dean looks around incredulously.  “How much juice are you using, keeping this whole thing going?  Dude,” he prods when Gabriel doesn’t answer, “this is crazy.  How long have you been alive?  You don’t have the first idea how to look after yourself.”

 

“I don’t need to.” Gabriel slurs, and, with a snap of his fingers, their loungers become beds in a hospital ward, and a nurse advances towards them, fully decked out in 1960s gear, complete with stethoscope and box of Kleenex balanced on a tray around her neck.

 

Gabriel gasps, and bends over the side of the bed with an exhausted sneeze.  He drags himself up, swaying, and Dean sees what’s about to happen a second before it does.

 

He springs from his bed just as Gabriel reaches for the tissue box, overshoots, and topples entirely off his mattress.  By some miracle of foresight and hunter’s reflexes, Dean manages to position himself between the falling angel and the hospital floor, just in time for a second emphatic sneeze from Gabriel, right into Dean’s collar bone.

 

“Fantastic,”  Dean mutters.  “Move it sister,” he demands, hip checking the nurse out of the way as he eases Gabriel to his feet.

 

Gabriel just slumps, grinning listlessly.

 

“Mmm Dean, I love it when you t-take char-hhh... HhhHPTchuh!”

 

“Good.”  Dean plucks the box of Kleenex from the hands of the fretting nurse and presses them up against Gabriel’s chest.  “Because I don’t know what the plan is here but saunas and sun loungers and weird ass Chippendale wannabes is not working.  Bring back the crappy motel room.  I’m gonna take care of this.”

 

He must have said it with more authority than he felt, because he barely believes it when the cool vinyl floor beneath his feet turns to battered and threadbare carpet.  He steps out gingerly, half expecting it to transform into a surf board or a pair of skis or the wing of an aeroplane.  When reality holds fast, he dumps Gabriel on the beaten up mattress and wastes no time in marching towards the doorway, determined to make it to the relative safety of the funky-ass corridor before Archangel magic can slam him in the forehead with a fresh and dizzying dose of crazy.

 

Outside, he rifles through the glovebox and trunk, mumbling something about Gabriel being lucky that Sam is just getting over a cold.  Amazingly, this turn of events wound up being the one thing he inadvertently arrived prepared for.  Still, he sighs as he crams a duffle bag full of tissues and tablets and a whole host of sick-person paraphernalia.  He hadn’t intended to be doing this again so soon.  Being the guy with the kick-ass immune system sounds pretty awesome until you realise that that’s also the guy who has to pick up everyone else’s snotty Kleenex.

 

Gabriel blinks at him as he walks back into the room, medicinal haul in tow.

 

 “You didn’t leave.”

 

“What?  Are you kidding me?”  Dean yanks the blanket out from under him.  “It’s called self-preservation.  Kick off your shoes,” he orders.  “You were getting a little trigger happy with those clicky fingers.  I’ll take a guns and glory apocalypse if I gotta, but I’d rather not bow out to virus-addled idiot who can’t make up his frickin’ mind.”

 

“You know I could smite you where you stand.”  Gabriel retorts, but he hooks his thumb into his heel and pulls off his boots as instructed.

 

“Yeah alright, big shot.  You wanna lose the jacket?”

 

The return to reality seems to agree with Gabriel – at least he’s lucid, although Dean can feel the heat beating off him before he even gets close with a thermometer.  He pushes away Gabriel’s discarded jacket and covers him over with the bed sheets.

 

“You know, Cas never seems to get sick,” Dean risks musing as he pours Nyquil into the bottle cap.

 

Face pressed up against the mattress, Gabriel gives a snort that turns rapidly to a coughing fit.

 

“Castiel.” Gabriel manages to croak.  “If you must know, Mr. Trenchcoat,-tie,-and-stick-up-his-butt  is a Grade A Special Little Snowflake”  He coughs.  “The first-edition Charizard card of celestial beings on Earth.”

 

Dean raises an eyebrow.  “Drink this.”

 

“An Angel riding in its actual meatsuit.” Gabriel explains, after sitting up and gulping down the medicine. “The true vessel.  Made to measure.  It’s rarer than you might think.”

 

“That’s not your proper meat suit?”

 

“Ding ding ding ding!” Gabriel cringes and massages his throat, apparently thinking better of his initial enthusiasm.  “Someone give that guy a cookie.  Maybe there are some brain cells left in there after all the alcohol and head trauma.”  He runs a hand through his hair and kicks the blanket off the bed.

 

“Hands down.  No finger-clicking.” Dean snaps, pre-emptively.  “You too warm?”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

“Okay.  Don’t move.”

 

“Think about it,” Gabriel calls through as Dean potters around in the bathroom, “a hundred billion humans since the dawn of man.  We get a choice of exactly one.  And then they have to say yes.  Another sterling example of what my Dad c-considers Intelligent huh! Design. HuhISHHHuew!  ISHHEW!  HUSHHhhUh! Ugh.”

 

Dean finds Gabriel sniffling into the crook of his sleeve.  He waves at him to lay back on the bed so that he can spread a cold flannel across his forehead.  In response to the damp fabric, Gabriel, stiffens, shudders, but then relaxes.

 

 “You wanna know who my guy was?” He mumbles, holding the flannel still as he presses the side of his face into the pillow.  “Head of the first Californian Atheists Society,” he chuckles, “And Michael and Lucifer think you two goofballs are a hard sell.”

 

“So that Vessel is...?”

 

“Adequate,”  Gabriel interrupts him.  “Also devilishly handsome.”  He lays the back of his wrist across his eyes.  “But prone to occasional bouts of humanity-level uselessness.” 

 

If it’s a barely-veiled insult, Dean chooses to ignore it.  “How’s that flannel working out for you?”

 

“Good.”  Gabriel murmurs, and then lifts his arm away from his face long enough to peer up at Dean appraisingly.  “You’re not bad at this.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, well, I’m kinda well-practiced.”

 

Gabriel curls up, smiles, and snuffles into his pillow.  “Hey Dean, you know what?” he murmurs.  “I think I know what I want.  I ‘made up my frickin’ mind’.”

 

Dean is still frowning at the poor impersonation when Gabriel lifts up a lazy hand, and, before Dean can stop him, gives a lethargic wave.

 

Dean braces himself, expecting to be transported to something roughly inspired by a Playboy covershoot, but when he dares to look around, all he can see is the same old peeling wallpaper, the same paint chipped furniture.

 

It’s only when he notices a breeze around his knees that he thinks to look down.

 

White tennis shoes... stiff tabard with a red cross... Dean reaches up to feel the top of his head.  He’s even got the fucking cotton hat.

 

His mind is racing with inventive ways to kill an angel, when the softest of snoring begins from Gabriel’s bed in the corner.

 

Fuck it.  It’s too much like hard work. 

 

Dean swings the stethoscope over his shoulder, swipes a cheap beer from the mini bar (apparently motel room hookers get thirsty too), and sinks onto a suspiciously-stained armchair, thanking his lucky stars that Sam isn’t here to see him now.

 

[AngelEyes]

This is fantastic! LOL. Poor Gabriel. I love all the switching back and forth. I'm cold, Sauna, I'm hot, tundra, I'm cold, beach. LOL! And of course all the sexy servants, because, Gabriel! And Awww Sam and Cas. So sweet together.

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

HI NEW FORUM FORMAT HARD TO QUOTE LOTS AT ONCE GONNA TRY A RUNNING COMMENTARY ANYWAY FIRST OF ALL  THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A PART 3

I didn't even know this was in here until just now oh my gosh so sorry for the delay in reading good golly okay but this is really exciting timing for me bc my birthday's in 3 days so i'm like flipping out this is great okay i'm hyped let's do this

Also congrats on becoming a parent!!! oh my god i'm so happy for you! I think i remember reading something on here somewhere about that and I'm happy for you so much!!! 

Okay without further ado i am excited as FUQ to read this shiz oh man i'mma get on with is holy cow let the internal screaming commence

 

intro, already exciting. dean meeting gabe in a porntastic hotel, love it. so adorable. so very gabe. and dean's so shy about it oh my god that's cute

oh my gosh okay even cuter i love that you're like playing up the power dynamics a little bit like yeah dean you're in way over your head i love it oh man go get im cowboy

oh my god i'm jealous of every one of those girls i would like a gabe spread out on my lap wtf <3 <3 <3

"thought we'd save the dramatic repeating of my name for later" omg dean so smooth. god i love this it's so flirty 

oh my gosh so chilly gabe what are you up to hm? adorable tho i can just picture him at the picnic bench

Lmao dean yes flash your nipples do it. Also, taking a pause (bc i have a feeling it's about to get a HELL of a lot less coherent up in here) to applaud, again, how terrifically in-character your writing is. This is such good shit TM i can't even, like, at all. I am so blessed

Adorable discombobulated worn out angel. help  

yep i'm dead i'm so oh my god he and the right in the middle of speaking i'm goodbye this is great thank u i'm gone this is the best goodbye hallelujah

" His brow quirks, his nose kinks, his eyes squint into the night air...  "  !! ! !!!! !! ! !! !!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

side note oh my god dean watches gabe's porn videos i can't oh my god that's perfect lmao i love it

ok first of all (first? of all? whatever you know what i mean) " “With what?”  Gabriel mumbles, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger." this is fucking gorgeous this is beautiful i'll take 12 oh my good lor-

Second of all " “Everytime you pull out that TV-land presto-chango crap, you turn about five shades paler.”

Gabriel shivers again and wraps himself tighter into his jacket.  “It’s not my fault someone keeps screwing with the thermostat.”

Dean looks around incredulously.  “How much juice are you using, keeping this whole thing going?  Dude,” he prods when Gabriel doesn’t answer, “this is crazy.  How long have you been alive?  You don’t have the first idea how to look after yourself.” " I am s c r ea m i ng  <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Dean catching a sick, dizzy, falling Gabriel: A++ 
Dean getting it right in the collar bone: i'm dead just leave me here this is too great i'm dead thank you goodbye what the fuck oh my god <333333333333333

ADJDKSDNJDGNSKDFDMGDK grumpy no nonsense dean insisiting on taking care of sick gabriel is all i ever wanted out of life i'd like to thank god and also jesus

"you didn't leave" oh my god  are you giving me an emotion right now bc gabriel ofc totaly would have expected him to leave after all that and also because he's not used ot anyone putting him first like oh my god i have? a feling??? about this???????????? this one short little line is so goddamn sweet oh my gosh

And then dean is like in full grumpsnark mode which i mean perfect he is totally nonchickflicks moments i can't even i just 

can i just

thank you again i just this is great okay wow ok back to readin i just got a feeling there for a minute

ashfsjdgfhdfjg tucking him in that's sO CUTE  G O SH 

omg wow okay i love the headcanons in here this is fucking good shit jfc 

" Dean finds Gabriel sniffling into the crook of his sleeve." dead. deaded. deadededed. deadeded. goodbye i am gone this has been great goodnight everyone oh my god <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

" Gabriel murmurs, and then lifts his arm away from his face long enough to peer up at Dean appraisingly. “You’re not bad at this.” " THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT IS SO FRICKING CUTE AAAAAAAAAAm y G O D

AHAHAHA OH MY GOD he made him wear a nurses uniform that's adorable

 

In summation: oh my god thank you so much i am living a #blessed life oh my god that was amazing thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you