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andrastesknickerweasles · 7 months

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Metamorphosis

He’s out of bed and back in the bathroom in record time, and this time he really does stare at himself with horror. Tentacles sprout from his face; flesh-coloured appendages emerge from above his lip, from under his jaw, curling and coiling around each other.

Castiel, he prays, please, Castiel, I need you. He doesn’t know what else to do.

It's only his luck that Gabriel shows up instead.

---

“I’m fine, Dean, really. A shower and a nap and I’ll be good as new.”

Dean squints at him like he’s not really buying it, but eventually gives him a jerky nod and glances out the window. “Yeah, well, I won’t be far. Give me a call if anything comes up.” He wrinkles his nose. “And maybe chuck the clothes. Don’t think there’s any saving those.”

Sam forces himself to laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Be careful, ok? We still don’t know if there’s more of those cultists out there.”

He heads straight for the shower as soon as the door closes. He peels his clothes off and throws them straight in the sink – despite what Dean said, he’s not so flush with shirts that fit that he’s willing to get rid of one without even trying to clean it up – and starts the process of trying to scrub the black gloop from his skin. It’s oily and slimy to the touch, and he doesn’t really want to think too hard about what it might be.

He really, really hates witches.

He’s flushed pink and scrubbed raw when he’s done, but he’s finally, blissfully, clean again. He towels his hair dry and musters up the courage to look at himself in the mirror. And frowns. There’s nothing to see. The spell had hit him cleanly in the middle of his chest with enough force to knock him off his feet, but there’s no physical sign of it at all.

Great.

He has no idea what’s been done to him, other than this vague feeling of something being wrong and the way his body feels too small, and no idea how he would even diagnose it. Find another witch? Ask Castiel to give him an angel medical? Dean, bastion of optimism, suggested that maybe taking him out was the point of the spell, but Sam’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just him being paranoid, but he’s not had much luck when it comes to the supernatural.

His fingers dig into the chipped enamel of the sink as he stares at the face looking back at him. Maybe it’s not the spell. Maybe it’s just him he’s still uncomfortable with.

He sighs and swipes a hand across his face. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Dean he’d needed a shower and sleep; he feels exhausted, bone-weary, and all he wants to do is curl up and . He knows he should probably try to identify the spell used against him while it’s still fresh in his mind, but it’s getting harder to keep his eyes open. He’ll let himself have an hour and then confront whatever this is.

---

He jerks awake when the alarm goes off, groggy and disorientated. Maybe the nap hadn’t been the best idea. He feels hot and uncomfortable and still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and freezes, horrified, as his fingers graze something that definitely wasn’t there when he’d gone to sleep.

No.

No, no, no, no.

Castiel, he prays, please, Castiel, I need you. He doesn’t know what else to do.

---

He’s busy researching the curse on his laptop when he hears the muffled beat of angel wings. “Castiel!” Please don’t have brought Dean, he prays, as he stands up and turns around to look at the angel.

Only it’s not Castiel. It’s Gabriel, striding towards him, eyebrows raised and eyes bright with amusement. He whistles, long and low, and Sam wishes he’d covered up a bit more. His skin feels like it’s burning up, so he’d settled on just a pair of running shorts, figuring Cas has seen him in worse.

“Gabriel,” he acknowledges, steeling himself for whatever new torture this would bring. The archangel’s been hanging around more often recently but Sam’s still not quite sure what to make of him, whether they’re acquaintances or friends or whether Gabriel just thinks they’re amusing in a performing monkeys sort of way. “I, uh, was hoping for Castiel. What are you doing here?”

It comes out harsher than he’d intended, but Sam’s not exactly in the mood to play games. Even the words sound awkward and slurred in his mouth, tongue not used to working around the new tentacles that spill from the sides of his lips.

“Well. It’s not everyday I see someone sprout otherworldly appendages. How could I resist?”

Sam scowls at the archangel but bites his tongue, pragmatism beating pride as he realises that Gabriel might be one of the few people who could actually help him fix this.

“Relax, kiddo. Cassie’s a bit busy and asked me to step in.” Gabriel steps around him and prods him experimentally, making Sam flinch. “Lucky for you, I’m the upgrade. This sort of wild magic’s probably a bit outside of his wheelhouse.”

“Can you fix it?” He hates how desperate he sounds, how obviously relieved he is that Gabriel might know what to do. It’s dangerous to hand over anything that can be used against him.

Gabriel hums and pokes him again, then pinches his ass. Sam swallows the noise of irritation. “Maybe. I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with here, but I can make an educated guess.” The angel puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam feels a cool wash of grace go through him, divine against his overheated skin. “That should stop it getting any worse. Reversing what’s already transformed will be a bit trickier.”

It’s not a no, so Sam will take it. He nods, because what other choice does he have? “Please, Gabriel. What do you need?”

“You’ll have to let me take a look inside that giant melon of yours, see for myself exactly what happened. Humans aren’t exactly reliable at remembering anything properly. After that? Power, talent, and maybe a little bit of luck.” Gabriel grins at him with slightly too many teeth, eyes glittering gold in a way that Sam instinctively knows is dangerous. “Question is, what do I get out of it?”

And there’s the catch Sam had expected. And what, really, can he offer the archangel? He’s got his suspicions, has noticed the way Gabriel watches him for slightly too long sometimes, the way he singles Sam out even as he banters with Dean and Castiel. Sam’s not been sure whether to be flattered or terrified. It’ll be humiliating if he’s wrong, but Gabriel would probably enjoy that too.

“What do you want, Gabriel? To fuck with me, make me beg for your help?” Probably, from the way Gabriel’s lips tilt upwards at the idea. He steels his nerves and continues. “Or to fuck me?”

Gabriel just watches him silently for a moment, and Sam wonders whether he’s fucked up. Is he really trying to seduce an angel while he looks like this? Gabriel’s more likely to laugh at him than want him. His cheeks pink but he refuses to drop his gaze and break eye contact, hanging on to the fragments of his pride.

“You’ll beg either way,” Gabriel promises, darkly, and Sam swallows. He’s still not sure whether to be excited or terrified.

He stands there, awkward, not sure what happens now. His gaze flickers to the bed behind them and back to Gabriel. The angel stares back at him, expressionless, though the mask cracks after a few more seconds and then Gabriel does laugh at him.

“You should see your face. Or, well, guess you already have.” Gabriel smirks at him again, leaving Sam off balance and uncertain what’s happening. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll get you fixed up first. We can sort out payment afterwards.”

It’s a relief, and a disappointment. Sam nods, again, because what else can he do but go along with it?

“Not that I’d say no to finding out what those tentacles would feel like, if you get my drift, but I’m not into forcing people. I promised Castiel I’d help, so really, it’s him that owes me a favour.” Of course. Gabriel flirted with everyone, so maybe Sam wasn’t special. Maybe he’d wanted to read something into it that wasn’t there. “Sit back on the bed and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” he mutters as he perches himself onto the closest corner. It leaves him staring at Gabriel’s shoulders as the angel resumes poking at him with hands full of grace. Sam’s bare skin tingles wherever he’s touched. He tries to focus on his breathing instead of letting his imagination run away with him, not sure he could live with the humiliation of getting hard while Gabriel’s just trying to fix him.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Gabriel runs a hand down one of the tentacles, curling his fingers around it.

“Sensitive, huh?” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows and Sam flushes, hating the reaction. “Thought so. Good news is I can fix it. Bad news is it’s going to hurt, a lot. It’s probably better for you if I knock you out for this.”

Sam nods, surprised Gabriel’s even asking for consent. “Do it,” he instructs, and he’s out almost before he’s finished the second word.

---

He comes back to himself slowly. His whole body aches, though a cursory examination of his face reveals smooth skin and absolutely no tentacles, so he’ll chalk it up as a win.

Gabriel, surprisingly, is still here, though Sam’s not sure he wants to know what the angel’s doing on his laptop. “What’s the prognosis, doctor?” It’s easier to joke now that he’s back to normal.

Gabriel closes down whatever he’d been looking at and closes the lid. “Lucky for you, I’m amazing. All back to normal, though I’d suggest a few days rest before any strenuous activity.” Sam feels like he could sleep for weeks, so it’s probably good advice. “Better to heal the rest naturally. You’re a pretty good conduit for grace, but I’d be worried about side effects if I’d fed you any more. I wasn’t really made for delicate work. Ask Castiel for a couple of angel advil if it still aches in a week.”

Sam nods. “Thank you, Gabriel. Really, thank you.” For fixing him. For not dragging it out to laugh at him. For doing it all without dragging Dean in too, because Sam would never hear the last of it. For letting him down gently.

Sam’s always had a problem with wanting things he shouldn’t.

“And Gabriel?” He licks his lips and carefully stares at the empty space above the angel’s right shoulder. “Just for the record, you wouldn’t need to force me into bed.”

Gabriel looks back at him, considering.

#fanfic #gabriel #gabriel spn #supernatural #spn #sabriel #sam winchester #drabble #sam x gabriel

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andrastesknickerweasles · 8 months

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Sam’s starting to become accustomed to Gabriel relocating him on a whim, but it is a surprise when it’s not the gaudy hotel room he’d expected. When Gabriel had promised him a better evening than the motel and seedy dive bar could provide, despite Dean’s passionate defence of their virtues, he’d expected it to be, you know, a sex thing.

Instead he finds himself standing outside of what can only be described as a fairytale cottage, thatched roof and all. Fairy lights are strung between the boughs of the trees in the front garden, there are lanterns lining the paved pathway between a rustic metal gate and the front door, and warm light and laughter spill from the windows opened into the warm summer evening. A restaurant, he surmises, when he spots the framed menu by the door.

Gabriel loops an arm through his elbow and pulls him through the gate. “Come on, kiddo. Promise you’ll enjoy this.”

They’re welcomed into the foyer by a young man who’s calling them sir and offering to take the jacket of a suit he hadn’t been wearing five minutes ago. He takes his cue from Gabriel and allows the man to assist him with the removal, glad that Dean’s not here to see it. Someone else leads them to their table and Sam tries not to feel too emasculated when his chair is pulled out for him.

Gabriel, of course, orders them champagne before they’ve barely sat down, waving away Sam’s protests that he’d really much rather have a beer. Gabriel probably was trying to do something nice for him, he reminds himself, and he supposes it couldn’t hurt to go along with it for an evening.

He still can’t help staring incredulously at the ridiculous cart the sommelier wheels out, or the way his eyebrows nearly hit the roof when the top arcs open and the bottle ascends with dramatic gusto and a wisp of smoke. He wonders how much that piece of theatre costs. From Gabriel’s bark of laughter, Sam’s expression must clearly display his opinion of it.

He stays quiet until the champagne’s poured and placed into a silver bucket by their table and they’re finally left alone. “Cheers,” he mutters, trying to be charitable despite his discomfort. Gabriel’s eyes are sparkling with amusement but he thankfully doesn’t say anything, just lifts his glass to clink it delicately on the side of Sam’s.

“To us,” the archangel toasts. “And to our first proper date. Bit of an upgrade from your usual haunts, but hey, you’re worth it.” Gabriel grins at him, and Sam remembers why he’s doing this. “You must have been to a few nicer places, surely? Or has it been hamburger highway since diapers?”

“A couple. With Jess, mostly, she liked seeing me try new things. Nothing this fancy though, student budget only stretched so far.” He tries for a smile but isn’t sure he sticks the landing; it’s hard not to feel like he’s betraying her when he’s, well. Sex is one thing, but he hasn’t exactly dated since she’d died.

He imagines introducing Gabriel to his father, and that image stops him from spiraling too hard.

There’s something in the way Gabriel’s looking at him that suggests he’s caught something of Sam’s inner crisis, but thankfully a waiter’s bringing food before Sam has to explain himself. He wishes he’d been allowed to order his own meal, but it’s clear Gabriel’s on a mission to wine and dine him. It’s flattering, in its own way, though he tries not to worry about what will happen when he’s officially caught and Gabriel starts to get bored of him.

Meal turns out to be a generous word for the mouthful of…something, presented prettily in the middle of a shell floating on what he thinks is a bowl full of salt. Gabriel’s attempt to be funny? The waiter’s explaining what they’re eating but he only understands about half of it. He looks dubiously at the slimy looking thing in the shell. He knows what an oyster is, but he hasn’t actually seen one before.

Gabriel’s looking at him again, and this time some of the mirth has faded. Sam misses it already, though he’s glad the angel isn’t laughing at him. “I, uh. How am I supposed to eat this?” There’s no cutlery, and he’s pretty sure it’s not the sort of place that’ll look kindly on him using his fingers.

“Like this,” Gabriel instructs, and tilts his own shell up to swallow the oyster whole.

Sam copies him, only to nearly gag as he swallows what he can only describe as salty mucus. He takes a hasty gulp of champagne to clear the taste and nearly gets bubbles up his nose.

Gabriel is openly laughing now. “Damn, Sam, way to make it look sexy. Not a fan, huh?” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows as Sam considers kicking him under the table. “They’re supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Getting any urges to jump my bones yet?”

“I hate you so much,” Sam grits out, though he’s proved a liar when Gabriel snakes his hand across the table and entwines their fingers. He snorts out a self-deprecating laugh instead and runs his thumb across the angel’s. “There’d better be more food coming. Something edible, preferably.”

“Patience, padawan. I promise I’ll feed you properly. Here, look, you’ll like this one more.”

Another plate is set in front of him. He’s still not really got any idea what he’s eating but this one, he must admit, tastes good – fuck, it might be the best thing he’s ever tasted. He makes a happy noise of contentment and watches, with surprise, as Gabriel visibly relaxes. He’d been too busy trying to fake his own confidence to realise Gabriel might be nervous too.

Nice to see it wasn’t just Sam feeling out of his depth here.

#supernatural #gabriel #gabriel spn #sam winchester #spn #drabble #fanfic #idk fancy dinner #oysters are gross #sabriel

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