Work Text:
The first time, it was a bargain.
"It's that simple?" Sam scoffed, barely willing to believe it. He braced his arms behind him on the hood of the Impala, at the back of his mind wondering if he'd have to wipe the fingerprints away before Dean saw them.
Gabriel shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure how much blood it'll take, but it will only need to do it once."
"One time, a few cleansing incantations and that's it?"
"That's it," Gabriel stood very still, leather jacket over a burgundy dress shirt and jeans, only a few feet away from Sam in the motel parking lot.
Sam's eyes flicked to his and Dean's room every few minutes to be sure this little negotiation wasn't gate-crashed by a severely pissed off older brother. "And what do you want in return?" He knew better now than to blindly trust an angel, even (or especially) an archangel, and definitely not one that had been playing a pagan demi-god of chaos for millennia. "D'you want me to say 'yes'?"
He laughed, "Sam, Sam, Sam. If I wanted you to be his vessel, why would I cleanse the blood out of you that makes you Lucifer's nummy treat? Without that, you're next to useless to him."
"Next to useless?"
"Well, there's no exact science to taking a vessel. Lucifer is very particular," Gabriel's fists clenched in his pockets. "I can't promise he'll stop pursuing you, or that he won't try and use you some other way. But it certainly makes it easier for you to say no, and harder for him to get you to say yes."
And that was enough for Sam. "What do you want in return?" He repeated.
"I just want to come and go," Gabriel said carefully, "Maybe help out here and there. I don't want to stick this fight out with you boys, day in and day out. But I'll do what I can, sometimes."
"You'll help us, and not Lucifer?"
"Yes."
"Help that isn't 'play your roles'?"
"Yes."
"Help that doesn't involve tricks on me or Dean?"
"...Yes."
Sam sighed. "Okay." It was the best he was going to get, and it was fair. If anything, it was weighted in Sam's favour.
"Okay?" Gabriel questioned, one sceptical eyebrow raised.
"It's a deal."
Afterwards, Gabriel made certain he was clean with a simple brush of fingers over Sam’s forehead, then he was gone. Sam stood on coltish legs, his mouth dry, his lips chapped. He crept past a sleeping Dean into his bed, wondering how to explain this lucky break to his brother.
--
The second time, it was because every time he took a step forward, he took two steps back.
Gabriel sat on the bed, leaning over the prone man. Wrists tied to the bedposts of the motel bed, Sam's head lolled on his shoulder, his pupils blown wide but his eyes fixed on Gabriel. "What have they done to you now, Sam?"
Sam said nothing, just continued to draw shallow breaths and tug uselessly against the ropes. "Just fix it," Dean demanded of the archangel, standing in the corner of the room with Castiel.
"The demon Sam and Dean call Meg force-fed him the blood," the other angel explained, although Gabriel had a fairly good idea of what had happened already. Lucifer wanted to do some interior decorating on his vessel before moving in, clearly. "I am not certain how much, but he was captive for less than twenty minutes."
"I didn't kill that bitch hard enough," Dean muttered, and Gabriel was inclined to agree.
He wanted to reach out, to soothe Sam’s rapturous agony, but he had a feeling Dean wouldn’t take too well to that; Castiel was standing pointedly between Dean and Gabriel as it was. Gabriel nodded decisively at Castiel, who was quite perceptive nowadays. “Dean, we should leave Gabriel to help Sam.”
“What? No-“
“Dean.”
If Sam had been in his right mind, he’d have been highly amused. Dean glared as he and his angel left, the door locking behind them.
Gabriel reached out and stroked his thumb against Sam’s temple. “This was meant to be a one-time thing. What am I going to do with you?”
Sam’s eyes slid shut. “Gabriel…”
“I know, Sam. I know,” he removed his jacket and rolled up a shirt sleeve. “We’ll fix this.”
Afterwards, Gabriel let Sam drift off to sleep the ordeal off. He found Castiel and Dean at a diner a block away, told them Sam would be out for a few hours and he’d see them around. He spent the next day on a sand dune in the Sahara, wondering what the world (and Lucifer) would throw at Sam Winchester next.
--
The third time, it was because Gabriel fucked up and re-grew some righteousness.
“Idiot! Why would you even do that,” Sam raged. He couldn’t believe Gabriel would be so reckless, after all he’d done to help them, to help Sam. They were lucky to get away and back to the motel so quickly, they may still have a chance to save Gabriel.
Gabriel said nothing, but given how much pain he was in, it wasn’t surprising. Putting himself between the arrow and Castiel seemed like the greatest idea at the time. He tried to say as much, but he couldn’t seem to get the breath – interesting, considering he didn’t actually need to breathe.
“Sam, a word?” Castiel pulled a reluctant Sam from Gabriel’s side gently, warning Dean with a glance to let them speak alone. “You must concentrate, Sam, the poison is spreading quickly. If you can remove the poison, Gabriel will be able to heal himself.”
He didn’t like where this was going. “How?”
“You have a connection with Gabriel though his blood, Sam. You can remove the poison much as you would snake venom from a bite. The poison will not harm you.”
Sam blinked, looking back at the archangel, quiet and in pain on one of the motel beds. He turned back to Castiel. “Can you take Dean some place else? I don’t think he’d appreciate seeing this.”
“Of course.”
Sam returned to Gabriel’s side as Castiel removed a suspiciously silent Dean, sitting on the edge of the bed by Gabriel’s hip. “Moron,” he muttered. The arrowhead was still in Gabriel’s shoulder, a precaution to prevent too much bleeding. Sam gathered their first aid supplies, and reached out to Gabriel’s cheek to guide his gaze to Sam. “Are you okay with this? I won’t do this if you’re not.”
Gabriel nodded, reaching up to grip Sam’s wrist tightly, “Do it.”
“Alright,” Sam reluctantly pulled his hand away from Gabriel’s cheek, and the archangel’s right arm gripped Sam’s left firmly. Any other time it would be the perfect opportunity for Sam to lean in, braced by Gabriel, to do perhaps a few of the things he’d been trying not to think about for a while now; instead, Sam placed one hand underneath Gabriel’s left shoulder, Gabriel shuddering at the sensation against his wound, and used the gauze in his right to pull out the arrowhead.
Gabriel practically roared in pain, eyes screwed shut, and it made Sam’s stomach turn; still, he put the arrowhead aside and used fresh gauze to stem the bleeding from the deep wound. Sam knew what he had to do next, and it wasn’t disgust that made him hesitate. This would save Gabriel’s life and yet Sam felt like he was taking advantage. Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on Sam.
“It’s okay, Sam,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this.” Sam bowed his head with a smile, and felt Gabriel’s hand slide up into his hair. The stroke at his temple was, by now, familiar and comforting.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Gabriel’s. The hand in Sam’s hair tightened its grip ever so slightly; the lips against Sam’s curved into a smile with a sigh. “You need me to do this,” Sam said, his forehead to Gabriel’s. “So you tell me when it’s enough.”
Sam kept one hand at Gabriel’s neck as he lowered his mouth to the wound at the archangel’s shoulder. As he drew the poison out – and it wasn’t like blood tasted great to begin with, but this was all wrong, worse than demon-wrong – he could feel Gabriel’s breathing deepen, the archangel clutching Sam tighter to him until finally Sam was dragged up and Gabriel pulled Sam over him and then he was kissing Sam like he wanted to lick the blood right back out of him.
The taste of cherries and pancakes started to wash away the tang tainted blood. “Thank you,” Gabriel muttered against Sam’s mouth, the grip on his hip tight and Gabriel’s hand stroking through Sam’s hair. “Thank you.”
There was a sharp knock at the door and the faint muttering of a pissed off, worried elder Winchester. Sam reluctantly pulled away, his fingers lightly tracing the newly healed skin on the archangel’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Sam called out, helping Gabriel sit upright and rearranging the sheets. “Come on in.”
Dean came barrelling in, a sharp contrast to Castiel’s sedate, unharried stroll. “Sammy, you alright?”
“I think I’m insulted,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. He watched Sam clearing up the supplies, with the arrowhead in a dish. “Can I see that?”
“Sure,” he passed the dish over and turned to his brother. “Everything’s fine, Dean.”
“It will likely be a few hours before you are fully recovered, Gabriel,” Castiel said.
Gabriel nodded, careful not to touch the arrowhead again. “Yes, you were right about this poison. Definitely Zachariah’s idea, if not even Lucifer’s. But I’ll be right as rain by dinner time.” He handed the dish to Castiel, even as his eyes followed Sam around the room. He was aware of Dean watching him, watching Sam but Dean said nothing so Gabriel let it go.
Afterwards, by sundown, Dean and Sam were on the road again and Gabriel was with Castiel, searching for their Father.
--
The fourth time, it was an accident. It was also the other way around.
The separate rooms had been Dean’s idea, so Sam knew to expect Castiel to be around come morning, but as soon as Dean’s door closed he heard the angel’s voice. Sam grinned, and locked his own motel room door behind him. If there was any justice, the walls would be thick enough to let Sam pretend long enough to get to sleep.
“He never shuts up about Dean, it’s driving me mad.”
Sam rolled his eyes, his grin widening as he threw his bag to the floor and turned around to see Gabriel, stretched out on the bed with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed, looking more relaxed than he must have felt. “Maybe it’s because they haven’t seen each other in three weeks?”
Gabriel blinked. “Didn’t quite seem that long.”
“It was three weeks. Dean passed ‘bitchy’ eight days ago,” Sam shrugged off his jacket. Three long weeks, and he’d missed Gabriel more than expected. Or perhaps it wasn’t unexpected after what they’d shared, and they hadn’t had a chance to finish or even develop what they’d started when Gabriel had been poisoned. Three. Weeks. Ago. “It’s not going well?”
“No,” he said simply. “But Castiel’s hope is… infectious.”
Sam laughed, “You say that like it’s such a bad thing.” He noticed Gabriel had no jacket or boots on, and Sam decided to even the playing field, trying not to make it obvious where he wanted this to end up.
Gabriel just shrugged, watching Sam unlace his boots. “How has your three weeks been?”
“Long. There’s been no full on apocalypse yet, which is about as exciting as it gets nowadays,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, moving no closer to the bed.
“All’s quiet on the western front.”
Then all was quiet in the motel room, not even sounds from the pair next door. Gabriel didn’t move, but after a moment his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smirk at Sam, and Sam couldn’t help himself with that kind of challenge.
He stalked forward and sat beside Gabriel, an imitation of their positions three weeks ago in a motel a thousand miles away, except this time Gabriel leaned up and met him halfway, his hand at the nape of Sam’s neck and Sam pulling at the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt.
Gabriel tugged Sam’s t-shirt up and off, and either Sam was more out of it with want than he’d realised, or he hadn’t heard Gabriel click his fingers, because then Gabriel was pushing Sam down into the mattress and Sam had gotten rid of the shirt and was working on the buttons of Gabriel’s jeans. Gabriel, with his hands braced either side of Sam’s head couldn’t return the favour but then Sam had his hand wrapped around his cock and Gabriel let his head drop to Sam’s shoulder. “Sam… please.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, using his free hand to push Gabriel’s jeans down, open his own jeans and then he was stroking them both together and Gabriel thought he was going to lose his mind as he mouthed at Sam’s neck, determined to leave a mark more obvious than the blood in Sam’s veins.
Sam dragged his hand up Gabriel’s back, aiming to pull the archangel back into another searing kiss but as he reached his shoulder blades, Gabriel shuddered and bit down, hard.
“Your wings,” Sam choked out, and he drew his finger tips across Gabriel’s shoulder blades and Gabriel was coming, Sam just behind, fireworks, white noise and, “Gabriel.”
After a few moments there was a slow click and their clothes disappeared, and Sam reached down to pull the sheet up over them. “Thanks,” Sam said as Gabriel shifted just enough to not be resting all of his weight on Sam, but still enough to have his arm curled over Sam’s chest, possessively.
Fingers traced Sam’s neck and he looked down to see Gabriel with a small smile on his face. Two deep crescents welled a little blood at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I can heal that if you’d like,” Gabriel said carefully, but Sam could see the reluctance.
“Leave it,” decided Sam after a moment, pretending not to notice Gabriel smirk in triumph.
Afterwards, the next day, Dean pretended not to notice Sam’s reddened bite mark and Sam pretended not to notice Dean’s strangely worn wrists.