unadrift: (frustrates)
[personal profile] unadrift
I think the heat is getting to me. (I wanted summer, but seriously, 35 degrees? What happened to those moderately warm, nice summers that lasted for weeks? Now we've got either 16 degrees or 35. Where's the fun in that?) Aaaanyway, apparently the heat leads to me writing weird things:

Supernatural, rated R, 4500 words. Dean/Castiel, Sam, Gabriel. Not to be taken seriously. Seriously.

Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] icelily01 for the beta!





Naturally, with the Trickster, things weren't over even when they were over.

"Leave us the hell alone," Dean said. "If you show your ugly face again--"

"You're going to do what? Whine and moan and complain me to death some more? I hate to break it to you guys," Gabriel said, his tone conspiratorial, "but your tactic sucks." He spread out his arms and grinned. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Sam glared. He might have lunged at him, archangel powers be damned, if Gabriel hadn't had the foresight of mojo-glueing their feet to the ugly brown motel room carpet. "Get lost," he gritted out.

"I'm hurt," Gabriel said and pulled the parody of a sad face. "I thought we were having so much fun this time. I have to admit, you caught on a lot more quickly than you did in TV land. I'd be proud, with a lonely tear of joy running from the corner of my eye, if you weren't such a spectacular disappointment by default."

"The answer's still no," Dean said. "So you can fuck off."

"Far be it from me to impose myself on anyone," Gabriel said agreeably. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"If only," Sam muttered.

Gabriel ignored him and pointed a finger at Dean. "You," he said. "Michaelsuit. You still owe me for the roses."

Sam raised an eyebrow. What?

"I-- What?" Dean echoed Sam's thought, sounding almost as bewildered as Sam felt.

Gabriel just looked at him.

"That was you?" Dean asked. He looked scandalized.

This time Gabriel had separated Sam and Dean right at the beginning of his little scheme, so Sam didn't know what the hell this was about. He was almost positive he didn't want to know.

"But I--" Dean sputtered, face flushing. "Oh, you know what? Here." He fished a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and flicked it at Gabriel. It floated gently across the room, defying all known laws of physics, and landed on Gabriel's outstretched hand.

"The roses were only six fifty," Gabriel said. A slow smile spread across his face. "Now I owe you." He gave a mock salute.

Sam blinked and Gabriel was gone.

"Why don't I like the sound of that?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. Maybe because it's the Trickster?" Dean offered darkly.

"Right," Sam said. He was pathetically grateful that he could move his feet again. He went to sit down on the edge of his bed and almost ended up in Castiel's lap when the angel appeared in the exact same spot where Sam had been planning to plant his ass. Sam started and backed away, muttering an apology.

"Cas," Dean said. "You okay? Where've you been?"

Castiel's eyes followed Sam's hasty retreat for a moment, then locked onto Dean's. "What happened?"

They told him.

"Gabriel," Castiel growled afterwards, in a tone similar to the one Sam had reserved for 'genital herpes', should it ever come up in casual conversation.

"He said he owed Dean," Sam said. "What do you think that means?"

Castiel considered this for a moment. "Trouble," he concluded.

"It means that I'm down thirteen dollars and fifty cents until he pays me back," said Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"What?" Dean asked. "That's a lot of pie."



*****




"Money's boring," someone said loudly.

Sam and his knife sat bolt upright in his bed at the same time that Dean and his gun did. In what little light was spilling through the windows, Sam recognized Gabriel sitting on the edge of Dean's bed.

"I think I'm going to repay you in deeds," Gabriel was telling Dean, as if there wasn't a gun pointed straight at his nose. "It's going to be fun, doing you a favor," Gabriel said cheerfully and stood. Dean's gun followed the movement. "But first: some research," Gabriel added and vanished.

Dean stayed alert for a few more moments, scanning the room, before it became apparent that Gabriel was really gone. He groaned and flopped onto his back. "There are no words to describe how much I fucking hate that guy."

Sam slipped the knife back into its hiding place. "I hear you," he said.

"I'm putting a stake under my pillow tomorrow."

"Not actually a Trickster," Sam pointed out reasonably.

"Right," Dean muttered. "What's thirteen fifty in deeds, anyway?"

Sam had a feeling they were going to find out soon enough.



*****



One moment Sam was drinking his coffee and searching the paper for a lead on a new hunt, and the next an elbow was jabbing into his side. It was a miracle he didn't topple from the vinyl-covered bench as he jerked away in surprise.

Gabriel folded his hands on top of the greasy table next to Sam, looking across at Dean.

Dean's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "You again," he said.

Gabriel studied Dean's plate and the contents of his fork.

"So you like cherry pie," he said and vanished.

"What the--" Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean said and put down the fork. "My thought exactly."

They looked at each other.

"Maybe you're going to find thirteen dollars worth of pie on the backseat of the Impala tomorrow," Sam suggested eventually.

Dean leaned back in his seat, flashing a quick, fake smile. "I could live with that."

Yeah. Sam didn't believe it for one second either.



*****



There was something hinky going on in Arkansas, with people vanishing from their cars in the middle of nowhere. It brought back unpleasant memories about scarecrows and running away, and Sam tried not to jump to conclusions and generally not dwell on the past connection too much.

They packed up and hit the road, Dean driving and Sam combing through all the news coverage he'd gathered so far. Everything was business as usual until the sun came out. It got hot in the car. Sam wanted fresh air.

He spent a long minute trying to reattach the handle that moved the window down, but it was no use. And unfortunately, 'inconspicuous' wasn't a look he could pull off. Of course Dean noticed the accidental car disassembly that was going on right under his nose.

"I think the Impala's getting old," Sam said apologetically, turning the handle over in his hands.

"I think your hands are too big," Dean snapped and glared at him. He gave the dash board an affectionate pat. "Don't mind him, baby. He doesn't mean it like that."

"Ah-HAH," Gabriel shouted from the back seat, far too close to Sam's ear. Dean almost steered the car off the road. "So you like your car!"

Sam snorted. Like that was a revelation. Before Sam could point this out to the Trickster, he was gone again.



******



The next time Gabriel showed up, they had already found themselves a nice (translation: mostly bug-free) motel room. Sam had just finished his well-deserved shower and was brushing his teeth.

Something cluttered to the floor next door, probably a chair that refused to take any more of Dean's two-legs-are-better-than-four method of sitting.

"So you like porn," Sam heard Gabriel shout through the closed door, and then, "Did you hear that, Sam? Porn!"

Dean was supposed to be doing research.

Sam only hoped the laptop was still in one piece.

"Just keep the fucking change!" he heard Dean yell.

Sam stuck his head out the bathroom door to find Dean glowering at a fixed point in empty space.

"Dean--"

"Did I mention how much I hate that guy?" Dean said, with feeling, and picked up the chair from the floor.

"Once or twice," Sam said sympathetically.

"What's he doing, anyway? Apart from driving me nuts?"

"Doing 'research', remember?"

"If he really wants to do me a favor, there are a few things I can think of that I'd really like to see," Dean said. "Almost all of them involve archangels and holy fire."

"Somehow I don't think that's what he's got in mind for you. Or himself."

Dean met his eyes. "Yeah, well. Me neither." He disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

"As if the apocalypse isn't enough already," Sam muttered.




******




Sam was doing his best to ignore the little rhythmic rustling noises and pretend to be asleep. And he was fine, if a bit annoyed. Dean had had a shower no longer than two hours ago. Couldn't he have taken care of his business then?

He suppressed the urge to sigh. After all, they'd been through this routine countless times before; nothing new there. Even pretend-ignorance was bliss.

But then Gabriel appeared with an audible pop and lifted Dean's bed sheet by the corner to take a peek underneath. "So you like to jerk off with your fingers up your ass," he said and then popped out of existence again.

That was a little harder to ignore.

"God," Dean muttered. "Please kill me now."

They both held their breath, but God didn't seem inclined to fulfill the request. These days, one couldn't be sure.

Dean buried his face in his pillow.

Sam did the same, because this? Was a whole new level of TMI.




*****




Dean seemed nervous. He was looking over his shoulder between taking bites, and he was tapping his foot under the table.

"What?" Sam finally snapped.

Dean leaned forward and whispered, secretively, "I like pizza."

Sam blinked. "And?"

"And Gabriel's bound to pop up at any moment and take notice, right?" Dean let out a noise of frustration. "What if that's his plan? I mean, he's the Trickster. Whatever he's been telling us, there's gotta be a secret agenda."

"You think Gabriel's trying to keep you from ever doing anything fun again?" Sam deciphered. "Because you'll always be waiting for him to show up and ruin the moment?"

Dean made a face. "It sounded only half as nuts when I was thinking about it."

"I wouldn't worry," Sam said.

Dean's eyes went comically wide. "Are you crazy?"

"Gabriel isn't going to follow you around forever, Dean," Sam pointed out. "He's bound to get bored at some point."

"See," Dean said, staring down forlornly at his half-eaten pizza. "That's what's worrying me."

Sam considered this. "Okay, you've got a point."

"We need a plan."

And those were damn scary words when coming out of Dean Winchester's mouth. Sam had some first-hand experience.




*****




"This doesn't even deserve to be called a plan," Sam said.

He watched as Dean sat down in the wobbly chair in their motel room, a bottle of beer in front of him on the table.

"You have a better idea? I'm open to suggestions," Dean said. "No? Well, damn." He twisted the cap off and took a swig.

"Ah, that's good," he said loudly, to no one in particular.

Sam snickered. It was funny. Well, at least until Gabriel revealed himself to be appallingly predictable. Sam kind of hated it when Dean was right. Not when it saved their asses, of course, but it was pretty damn annoying the rest of the time. Dean could be one smug douche if he set his mind to it.

"So you--" Gabriel said.

"So I like beer," Dean cut him off. He held out a folded piece of paper to Gabriel, who stared at it with a frown. "I made a list," Dean said. "Take it and quit harassing me."

Gabriel took the list and unfolded it. "Long walks on the beach", he read.

"That's a classic," Dean said and nodded in satisfaction. "Has to be mentioned in these kinds of things."

Sam couldn't help it. He laughed. He'd seen Dean pull off some crazy shit in his lifetime, but sometimes he still couldn't believe his brother. And Dean had taken almost an hour to put that stupid list together, too.

"Coke, not Pepsi," Gabriel read on. "Van Halen, pizza, hot showers, chocolate ice cream, sorting ammunition on a quiet day-- I can work with that," he said and grinned.

"Or you could, you know, just LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE," Dean yelled, but Gabriel was already gone.

"So, Dean, how did that help?" Sam asked, still snickering.

"Shut up," Dean said, then pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm gonna call Cas."

"Why?"

"So we can meet up and braid each other's hair and talk about boys. What do you think, Sam?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Sam said, grinning.

"Bitch," Dean said sweetly.

"Jerk," he shot back.

Dean grabbed his jacket.

Before Dean could close the door behind him, Sam called out, "Dean." Dean turned around in the doorway. "I really hope he'll back off," Sam told him. "At least for a while."

"Yeah. 'Course he will." Dean said sarcastically, then he shrugged. "I had to do something."

Right, Sam thought. Of course. He was Dean. Dean always had to do something.

The door fell shut behind him.




*****




They were searching the car of one of the disappearances, Dean in the back seat and Sam going through the contents of the glove box, when Gabriel appeared behind the steering wheel.

It wasn't even all that surprising any more.

"Hey boys," Gabriel greeted and turned around to face Dean. "You know, this was really hard work," he said, as if he was expecting applause or something. "But I figured it out. I found the perfect thing for you: You get a night off. You get to take your body for a ride one last time, doing everything you like to do, the whole she-bang," Gabriel said, obviously pleased with himself.

That didn't even sound like a completely terrible idea, Sam thought, except for the not-so-veiled remark about it being the 'last time', of course. He waited for the other shoe to drop, and drop it did.

"So listen, Dean, here's the plan: I'll pick you up at your motel tonight at six, and then we'll take a drive, stop somewhere nice and drink a beer or two, eat some pizza, then we'll drive somewhere remote and I'll fuck you in the back of your car, and afterwards we'll share a cherry pie and watch the stars. How does that sound?" Gabriel said, then added, "We can sort ammunition in the morning."

Sam blinked.

Dean just sat there, staring.

"Unless of course," Gabriel continued, "'sorting ammunition' is actually the worst euphemism in the history of double entendres." He seemed to think about that for a moment. "Although, that could work, too."

Sam got his wits together faster than Dean did, and that was saying something. "You want to take Dean out on a date? And that's supposed to be a favor for him?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm kinda stuck on the part with the fucking," Dean said weakly.

"Of course you are," Gabriel said indulgently. "I thought of everything. So what do you say?"

"What do I say?" Dean repeated. He finally sprang into action and climbed from the car. "What do I say?! I say: How about you just keep the damn thirteen dollars as a tip and leave me the fuck alone! I knew you were the biggest douche of the whole angelic bunch, but this-- This really takes the cake." He slammed the door and stalked out of the impound lot, muttering something about holy oil and third degree burns.

Gabriel turned to Sam. "Was it something I said?" he asked innocently. "I did my research."

"I think you're just not his dream date," Sam said, mostly on autopilot.

"There goes the two-birds-with-one-stone approach," Gabriel said wistfully. "Do you know how boring fake sexual partners get after a while?"

Sam so very much didn't want to be part of this conversation. He left Gabriel in the car, followed Dean from the impound lot, and flopped down in the passenger seat of the Impala.

There was a truly horrified look on Dean's face. "Run that by me again," he said. "Was I really just hit on by the archangel Gabriel?" He rubbed a hand over his face. "I thought there were rules against that sort of thing."

Sam snorted. "Does Gabriel strike you as a stickler for the--"

"Right," Dean said. "Never mind." He started the car and pulled out into the street.

Sam opened his mouth.

Dean pointed a finger at him. "Don't. I'm warning you, Sam. Don't."

"But you'd make such a cute couple," Sam said.

Dean punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

It hurt, but seeing the sour expression on Dean's face was totally worth it.




*****




Gabriel didn't make another appearance for two days.

In the meantime they figured out that there was a plain old serial killer on the loose and that their case had nothing at all to do with anything even remotely supernatural. Unless you counted the phony psychic the police had brought in to consult. Apparently, the bodies could be found "near water".

Dean and Sam let the authorities handle this one, since psychopaths weren't exactly their forte. Not when they were plain human, anyway.

"So, what next?" Sam asked, shouldering his bag and taking his smoothie from the nice old lady behind the counter.

Dean eyed the girly drink with suspicion and fell into step beside him. He put his hands into his pockets. "Call Bobby, I guess. See if he's dug up any leads on Lucifer."

Right. The apocalypse was still taking place. Somewhere. Somewhere that was currently not here.

"So my little brother is still not throwing a proper party?" Gabriel asked, suddenly walking on Sam's other side.

"Oh joy," Dean said. "I didn't think I'd see you again anytime soon."

"I'm not that easily discouraged," Gabriel informed him.

Sam sighed. He'd kind of been counting on the fact that the Trickster would be easily distracted, rather than easily discouraged, but no such luck.

Dean made a face. "I swear, if you try and woo me--"

"You're going to do what? Whine and moan and-- Wait." Gabriel tapped a finger to his lips, feigning thoughtfulness. "I feel like we've had this conversation before."

Dean glowered at him.

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"Want?" Gabriel repeated, all surprised innocence. "Nothing. I'm doing more research. Like I said, I'm not that easily--"

"This is a surprise," Castiel said and fell into step next to Dean.

Dean's head turned from Gabriel to Castiel and back. "What is this, the angel surprise party marathon?"

"Hey, bro." Gabriel sped up a little and waved at Castiel past Sam and Dean. "Fancy seeing you here."

"How did you find them?" Castiel asked.

"I don't kiss and tell. Do you?"

An odd expression appeared on Castiel's face. Maybe it was the turn of phrase that puzzled him. He wasn't easily readable at the best of times, but Sam had gotten better at it. This particular expression looked like a weird mixture of stone-faced statue and kid-caught-with-one-hand-in-the-cookie-jar.

Castiel pulled himself together quickly enough. "It's not your place to ask such questions, brother."

"Oh, but it's yours? Who died and made you king?" Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. I forgot. Must've been our old man."

Angels were supernaturally fast. Of course they were. Sam knew that.

But Dean's arm had to have been even faster, because it caught Castiel across the chest and prevented him from doing-- something. Something that would probably have gotten him killed at the hands of an archangel. Again.

Sam was five steps further down the sidewalk before he even registered that Dean and Castiel had stopped.

"Cas," Dean was saying, leaning in close to draw Castiel's eyes away from Gabriel. "It's not worth it." He still had his forearm across Castiel's chest and a hand clamped on his shoulder.

Castiel looked like he was gritting his teeth, jaw muscles working. His clenched fists loosened when he focused his eyes on Dean.

"Don't do anything stupid, okay?" Dean said.

"Are you saying that I should follow your example?" Castiel asked.

If Sam wasn't mistaken, that was Castiel trying to make a joke to lighten the mood. Castiel. A joke.

Dean laughed. "No, Cas," he said. "You really shouldn't. Come on." He tugged on Castiel's sleeve and the angel went.

"Huh," Gabriel said.

Sam turned to look at him. He was smirking.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing."

Dean and Castiel drew level with them again. "Yeah," Dean said in passing, "like anyone's gonna believe that."

Sam sped up his steps to follow them, and Gabriel did the same.

"Hey, where are we even going?" Sam asked. "We passed our motel three blocks ago."

Dean tried to look like he'd totally been aware of the fact. "I just like to walk sometimes," he offered at last.

"Hey, me too," Gabriel said.

"Oh, shut the hell up," Dean told him.

"What is your business here, Gabriel?" Castiel inquired.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Like I told these two chuckleheads, I was just completing my research. Nothing more to it than that." Gabriel sounded far too earnest to be earnest. "Cross my heart," he said, popping out of existence with the last word.

"And hope to die," Dean muttered.

"I think not," Castiel said.

"Shame," Sam sighed.




******




Sam kept waiting for the other other shoe to drop. Gabriel hadn't popped in just to say hi. He was still planning something.

Gabriel didn't keep them waiting for long.

Sam was alone in their gloriously silent motel room, reading an article about global warming, wondering how many of the mentioned weather phenomena had actually been demonic omens.

Dean had decided that afternoon that the Trickster could go screw himself, "literally, if he can manage that". He went out to have some "clean, unobserved fun".

When Gabriel appeared out of thin air, Sam barely looked up. "What now?" he asked, almost bored by the development. At some point, when he hadn't been paying attention, sudden visits from the-Trickster-slash-archangel-Gabriel had become business as usual. He was trying not to think too hard about that.

"I figured it out," Gabriel announced and snapped his fingers.

Castiel appeared on the other side of the room.

"Gabriel," Castiel said and glared at him.

And wow, the angel could glare. It made Sam's skin prickle, and those eyes weren't even directed at him.

"Cas?" Sam put his book down and rose from the bed. Belatedly, he realized Castiel was naked except for a pair of boxer shorts.

And the bow, of course.

The bow that was tied around his wrist. It was red, with a big bowknot that had two tails of soft ribbon following Castiel's movements sluggishly.

Castiel looked down his mostly naked body, at the bow, then at Gabriel again. "What is this?"

"Just repaying a debt," Gabriel said, flashing a grin at Sam, and snapped his fingers again.

Dean appeared with a beer in hand and his elbow propped up as if he'd been leaning on something, a bar perhaps. He caught himself before toppling over, but the beer ended up all over Sam's bed.

"Hey!" Sam protested.

"Don't look at me," Dean said defensively. "I didn't do anything. I was just minding my own--" His eyes got huge when he saw Castiel. "Uh, Cas. What's going on?"

"I was just asking the same thing," Castiel said. He frowned down at his wrist and started pulling at the bowknot.

"Ah ah," Gabriel said, raising a chastising finger. "Leave that alone. A gift needs to have a bow. I'm pretty sure that's written down somewhere."

"A what?" Dean asked incredulously. "What kind of game are you--"

"Oh, go have your date," Gabriel said, making a shooing motion with his hand.

There was enough time for Sam to see Dean's jaw drop, and the next moment Dean and Castiel were gone.

"Gabriel," Sam said, stretching out the name warningly. "Where are they?"

"Oh, relax, Sammy. They're just taking a long walk on a beach," Gabriel said and grinned, obviously satisfied with himself.

"Of course they are," Sam muttered. "Did you at least give Cas back his clothes?"

Gabriel delivered a theatrical slap to his own forehead. "I knew I forgot something. So maybe they're already doing the nasty. Depending on how fast Castiel can rip Dean's clothes off."

Sam made a face. He really really didn't need to know any details about that, graphic or otherwise.

Gabriel was tilting his head thoughtfully. "Hm," he said. "Dean and Castiel. Castiel and Dean."

Funny. Sam was just thinking the same thing. It didn't seem as crazy as it should be.

"Maybe I didn't think this through," Gabriel continued. "Castiel was always the odd little unpopular sibling. Fixing Dean up with the biggest angel nerd in all of creation-- As good deeds go, this is probably not my best work."

"You haven't had much practice," Sam said with mock sympathy. "So it's not like anyone's going to blame you or anything."

"Good point," Gabriel said and started rummaging through his pockets. "Here, give this to your brother. Tell him sorry that alternate payment plan didn't work out."

He pushed a few bills and a coin into Sam's hand, and then he closed his fingers around Sam's wrist. He licked his lips, eyes suddenly speculative. "What do you say we--"

"No!" Sam said, pulling his hand back. "No fucking way."

"Your loss," Gabriel shrugged, leered at him one last time, and vanished.

"God," Sam muttered. "Good deeds my ass."

Without warning, Gabriel's voice was filling the room again, asking, "Was that some kind of veiled request?"

"Fuck off," Sam yelled.

Gabriel was snickering, and then there was silence.

When Dean and Castiel reappeared later, much later, Sam noticed the way his brother was leading Castiel into the room by the elbow, the way he ducked his head and blushed when he met Sam's eyes, the way Castiel was smiling. They both had sand in their hair.

Sam decided that, maybe, Gabriel wasn't half bad with good deeds after all.

Dean didn't lose that goofy smile on his face, not for the rest of the night, not even after Castiel had excused himself and taken off. Sam was planning on making fun of Dean for that for weeks.

Before Dean went to bed, he shoved the gun under his pillow, as usual. Sam was already under his covers, close to falling asleep, but he cracked an eye open when he heard something rustle.

Dean was pulling a piece of paper out from under his pillow. He frowned down at it, exchanged a look with Sam, and pulled it open.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

Dean huffed out a laugh, then held out the paper to him.

Sam pushed himself up on an elbow and reached across the space between their beds.

The one neat typewritten line on the sheet read, Don't say I never did anything for you.

"Can't really argue with that one," Dean said, quite possibly blushing.

"Yeah. You're such a cute couple," Sam said.

Dean threw a pillow at him.




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