Title: An Element of Persuasion Chapter 1/?
Author: nileflood
Genre and/or Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, mentions of Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of mpreg
Summary: Based on a little crack scenario I had in my head, this grew a little bit larger than the drabble I first intended it to be. Gabriel gets an idea into his head and Sam freaks.
It's been a while since I wrote any serious fic, so feedback would be welcomed!

Sometimes, even Gabriel needs help getting the things he wants.

Gabriel needed help. He was a solitary creature, mostly, apart from invading other people's lives for his own amusement. And those occasional forays into society hadn't made him very popular. He certainly didn't have any fans in Heaven about to offer their assistance, and Hell didn't much like him either. He had connections, in between, but they were mostly fellow tricksters, he didn't trust them, because that was the way they worked. They didn't trust anyone, not even their own.

He sighed, and laid back on the water-bed, arms folded behind his head as he watched the sky above him move as night bled into day. He could go and see Kali. Kali, although not a friend, wasn't likely to try and maim him on sight, and had Facebook existed, there had once been a time when their relationship was listed as 'complicated'. Which was a good reason not to turn to her, actually. There was, he supposed, at a push, Castiel. He struck him off the list almost as quickly as he considered him. But that reminded the archangel of another possibility, one that, as he considered it, he liked more and more. And more and more.

Sam Winchester was alone, in a motel room, settled back on an old slowly collapsing chair with a book on his knees. While this hunt was just a simple salt-n-burn, the next one they were heading to was going to take a bit of forward planning, a bit of thought. So Dean had taken Castiel out to deal with the monster terrorizing this back-water town and Sam was researching. Frankly, he was glad to be out of the way. Even if Castiel didn't see it, Sam certainly managed to catch every single look his brother sent the trench-coat wearing seraph. Every. Single. Eyefuck. There was only so much of that anyone could take. Researching was better, even if it meant hauling books from the library in town back to their motel room on foot.

There was always the chance that without having Sam there as third-wheel Castiel and Dean might work it all out and jump each other. He doubted that it would ever happen, but if it ever did he had books to distract him from when they tumbled into the room in a tangle of limbs and thus stop his eyes melting in his head. In all seriousness though, without any disturbances, without anything else to attend to, he could probably work his way through the rest of this book and another couple before Dean and Castiel even got back.

But that was when Murphy's Law came into its own and there was the soft, barely audible noise of wings and Sam turned in the chair. "Castiel, you guys finished al-" He began, and then he shut himself up. The angel in the room wasn't a smartly dressed, suit wearing thing. It was a smirking, short creature in a terrible shirt. "Hey kiddo."

Sam groaned. There were all his plans to get research gone out of the window. "What the hell do you want, Gabriel?" The arch-angel was a pain in the ass, but Sam wasn't actually worried about the guy turning him into something or killing Dean anymore, all that had stopped a long time ago. But it was fairly obvious that Gabriel wasn't just going to leave if Sam told him he was busy. He tried it anyway, and all he got in return was a pout.

"Sam-sam-sammikins," Gabriel whined, snapping his fingers and turning Sam's chair into a full-blown three-seater couch, one that took up most of the available space in the room, and settling down on it, still looking hurt. "That's no way to treat a friend coming to you for a favour, is it?" He leant forward then, his hand resting on Sam's knee and then brushing upwards, like Sam was going to be impressed with that.

He pulled his leg away, glaring as best he could at the angel who hadn't yet got the message. "I don't have time to do you any favours, Gabriel." Sam told him, trying to make the guy leave. But Gabriel was settling himself into the couch, one of his filthy smirks in place and he was already wriggling his eye-brows even as he brought his hand up and clicked his fingers. The sound of traffic outside stopped, the noise from the maid's vacuum down the hall stopped, the whirling of Sam's laptop stopped.

"Now we have as much time as we want." Gabriel said and shifted a little closer.

Sam looked at him long and hard, wondering if he could possibly escape, wondering if the timelessness extended very far, if it was just this block, this town, this county, or if Gabriel had stopped everything, everywhere just to wrangle a favour. Sam was tempted to go out, to find out, but he doubted the arch-angel would let him. He was trapped, effectively, but a wicked smirk and bright, gold-flecked eyes. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever Gabriel was going to make him do. What an arch-angel could possibly need him for was beyond Sam, although whatever it was probably wasn't good. Nothing any of them wanted him for was ever good. But he waved his hand for Gabriel to continue, the other coming up to rub at his eyes. If he did what Gabriel wanted, maybe he'd just go away.

He could hear Gabriel take a big breath, but not speak and so Sam looked up, to see the angel almost bouncing in his seat, like an excited puppy.

"Sam," Gabriel began, moving a little bit closer, almost unable to contain himself. The angel took another breath, as if still not ready to spill the beans, and Sam was starting to worry because this was not usual Gabriel behaviour. He hadn't been humiliated once and Gabriel had been there at least ten minutes.

"Sam, I want to have a baby."

Whatever reaction Gabriel was expecting, he didn't seem to be expecting Sam to jump up off the sofa and almost run to the other side of the room in panic. "What the fuck, Gabe!" It wasn't a question, but a horrified statement and Gabriel frowned. Sam wasn't the sort of fool-hardy idiot his brother was, always striding into danger, but even so Gabriel never expected to see him like this; Sam was tall and strong and smart and he looked wrong cowering against the dirty wall of the motel room.

Gabriel was not impressed. His mouth was set at a lopsided angle, his arms moved across his chest. "That's a great impression of your brother, the masculine bravado thing. I didn't know you could pull it off." There was a bitter note in Gabriel's tone, and he looked away. But even from the other side of the room, Sam could see that pout. He'd learnt, before he knew Gabriel as Gabriel, that when the creature pouted, bad things usually happened. Normally whatever situation he'd forced them into wasn't entertaining enough so he threw in something even more scaring. This time though he just clicked his fingers, a lollipop appearing, which the arch-angel promptly stuck between his lips.

"Gabriel, that's not a favour, that's a commitment." Sam tried to explain, the words tumbling from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. Besides, did angels even know how human reproduction worked? Sam just wasn't going to let his mind wander down that route, because it was biologically impossible unless Gabriel was going to turn him into a girl and he was seriously not happy with that idea.

He'd forgotten that when Gabriel was around his thoughts were not necessarily his own, and while he'd been distracted from the angel the man had clearly been listening in, because now he was laughing, hard, his hands at his sides as he tried to stop himself, "Oh my dad!" He exclaimed, breathless, "Oh Sasquatch, that's just precious." Gabriel told him, wiping what might have even been tears from his eyes and he got up, off the sofa and made his way towards the hunter. Sam didn't even consider moving, his feet planted to the floor. Gabriel was stood there, in Sam's personal space, his head tipped up to look at the much taller figure. He was kind of cute, in a short, annoying, deadly sort of way.

Gabriel smirked a little more, and reached up, pinching one of those dimpled cheeks. "You aren't so bad yourself, kiddo." He said, and then looked over Sam in a way that made his intentions terribly, terribly clear. But Gabriel didn't stop there, pressing himself right up against Sam and dropping his voice to the barest whisper, "I'm not suggesting you carry it, Sasquatch. I'm not suggesting I hang around either." He said, and ran his hands down Sam's sides, "I get what I want, which is a little company in my old age, something to occupy me and keep me out of your hair while you and Dean-o and my brother save the world, and surely that's a good thing."

Gabriel stepped back a little, giving Sam room to breathe without inhaling through Gabriel's hair and the sticky, sweet candy smell that followed the angel about. It was actually surprisingly difficult to think with Gabriel so close, but even when Gabriel made his way over to one of the room's beds, Sam still found himself muddled. He was good at logic and thinking clearly and keeping his cool, so when was Gabriel making it so difficult? It wasn't the pouting mouth the hopeful eyes or even the way he'd pressed up against Sam, he was sure. And if he had felt hotter than usual, well when someone invaded your personal space like that, it was to be expected.

Sam stepped forward, eyes fixed on Gabriel sat on the bed, fingers moving over his shirt buttons, the first two already undone, exposing pale collarbones and that's where Sam found his gaze resting, before he forced himself to look away.

"No, Gabriel." He said, shakily at first, and then swallowing down his nerves. "No. I… no! You can't just… no." Well, maybe he could have formed a better argument if Gabriel had stopped undressing, but he hadn't. He was just looking at Sam as he continued, the angel's fingers stroking over his throat, over the pale skin and Sam had to fight the urge to stand his ground. "No! I am not doing this, Gabriel!"

And then he was gone, stomping out of the room and into the corridor, and leaving one very surprised angel sat on the bed.

It was a relief that Gabriel didn't come back at all the next week. Sam figured he was sulking. Sam persuaded himself that he didn't care; Gabriel had to understand that humans just couldn't be used and manipulated because he was bored. That Sam Winchester couldn't be manipulated, no matter how often he found himself in the shower thinking about those naked collarbones or the pouting lips. Sex was one thing, maybe he would have given in to that, in Dean was guaranteed to never, ever find out. But a baby was a different thing entirely. If it was a baby and not some sort of foal or kitten or puppy or something. And Gabriel might have said he'd stay out of the way, that he wouldn't come back to annoy the Winchesters and fuck up their lives, but Sam couldn't believe that.

Part of him didn't want to.

But there was another week, and no Gabriel. They were in another town, another motel and Castiel and Dean's eye-fucking had reached epic proportions. Dean was spending more and more time with Castiel now, going on 'recognisance' in town, going to question people and sometimes to pick up dinner but mostly, Sam knew, so he could be alone with Castiel. They came back sometimes, Castiel's tie and shirt rumpled, his hair mussed up and his cheeks a little pink, and Dean more silent than ever. Dean had a macho thing going on, Sam and Gabriel agreed on that front, and he had some weird ideas about sexuality too. Not that he wanted to know what was going on between his brother and his angel, but it offered a fantastic distraction from his own thoughts and besides, he over-heard them enough, when they thought he was asleep; Castiel trying to explain that angels were genderless creatures and therefore there was nothing gay about anything they did. It was times like that when Sam wished they had the money for separate rooms.

He managed to drift off even with Castiel and Dean's whispered conversation around him. His sleep had been miraculously easy for several days, deep and uninterrupted; at least not rudely interrupted. There were dreams, of lips over his chest, hands in his hair, skin against his, the grinding and rutting of bodies together, but they weren't unusual dreams either. There were times when, maybe, the kisses he could taste were distinctly chocolate-flavoured, the voice that gasped his name might, possibly, have been similar to Gabriel's, and there might have been times when his hands moved through pearlescent wings rather than over pale thighs or cupped breasts. And it was certainly not after those dreams that the swell of his cock felt heavier the next morning in the shower as water poured down his back.

It was the third week since Gabriel's visit and Sam was beginning to worry. He'd expected Gabriel to come back every day, day in, day out, and whine and bitch and tempt him until Sam gave in. He'd almost given in before. No, he hadn't. He'd thought back, wondered what could have made him give in. The fact Gabriel hadn't followed him when he'd run out of the room had made Sam… well, it had made him feel better. Gabriel wasn't actually forcing him into anything, Gabriel had understood no meant no, and was respecting that. He'd even restarted time and put the room back to how it should have been by the time Sam got back. The only trouble was that Sam actually thought he'd meant no in the sense of give me some time to think about it, no. Not the never ever ever sort.

Dean was out again, looking for a taco place and Castiel had gone with him. Not that Sam was surprised about that. He needed to be alone for this. He'd had time to think. He didn't want to jump into anything, he knew better than that. He wasn't ready to be a Dad, he knew that, and well, with everything that happened in their lives, he couldn't guarantee that he'd be there for it, when it was older. And Gabriel probably wouldn't be. He seemed to like people, things, to look after themselves. Until he was in need of someone to annoy.

So what he really, really needed to do was talk to Gabriel. He didn't know if he'd get an answer, or if Gabriel could actually hear him- there had to be so many voices asking for his help and maybe Sam's would get drowned out, but he had to try. He sat down, on the edge of the bed. Did he have to pray, properly, like at Sunday school or could he get away without that? He hoped so, because this was all weird enough already. He just closed his eyes, fingers curling into the comforter on the bed, and prayed to Gabriel.

There was nothing at first, no sound, no nothing. Maybe it hadn't worked. Maybe he needed to try harder. Maybe Gabriel was ignoring him. And then, suddenly there was a change in the atmosphere in the room, the sound of wings and there was Gabriel, a bag of M&Ms in hand, offering them out to Sam.

"I… I was expecting to see you before now." Sam told him, taking a couple of the sweets but not really hungry, throwing them into the back of his mouth and swallowing them down as fast as he could. Gabriel just shrugged, setting the candy down onto the dresser. "You were gone a while." He added, and then Gabriel's grin returned, eyebrows wriggling.

"You missed me, Sammy?" Gabriel translated, stepping closer and suddenly Sam had a lapful of angel. His hands were at Gabriel's sides, holding him steady, trying to balance them and not fall backwards onto the bed, because that would have been too far too fast. Sam took a breath, he had to, and there it was again, that sweet-smell, like circus candy-floss. "I told you you were precious." The angel added, the words softer, lower, his fingers moving over Sam's shoulders, rubbing into muscle and sinew and forcing out the tension, his lips close to Sam's ear.

There were, Sam knew, certain physical reactions that were hard to stop. Like the way his cock twitched as Gabriel shifted in his lap, or the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as Gabriel's tongue caught the shell of his ear or the way he caught the angel's chin his hand and kissed him, hard. All of this, this whole not visiting thing, not pushing it, making Sam call him, it might have all been a plot, a carefully engineered scheme for the angel to get what he wanted, without having to appear needy. Gabriel was sneaky enough to do it that way, but Sam found it very hard to care.

It was even harder to care when the kiss broke, and Gabriel was panting, despite not needing to breath, his lips swollen and parted and wet, and Sam felt what was left of his resolve crumble away. He was forcing Gabriel's shirt off, his mouth sweeping over his collar, over the perfectly smooth skin and as he sucked on the one spot that made Gabriel squirm, he felt the angel's fingernails bite into his shoulders and that was it. Sam couldn't cope with it any more. This was just sex, of course. Just sex. Not an agreement. Gabriel knew that.

They didn't have much time before Dean and Castiel were back and both of them knew it. If anything that fact seemed to make everything more intense. Gabriel was tearing as Sam's t-shirt, grinding his hips against the bulge in the hunter's jeans and with a noise of frustration when he couldn't get the clothes off, he just snapped them away, and in their place was a bottle of lube which he forced into Sam's hand. After that, everything was a little... rushed. Sam's fingers were slicked, scissoring in the angel as Gabriel's cock wept against Sam's skin, and then with a repositioning of hips and murmured encouragement from the angel, Sam was spreading Gabriel wider, filling him and feeling the angel stretch around him.

Gabriel seemed to sigh, a soft sound the Sam wasn't even sure he heard between his own heavy breath and the creaking of the bed, Gabriel's nailed biting deeper as he sank down, the length of Sam's cock filling him, that one movement, that one moment slow, almost painful slow, burned into Sam's brain. His breath caught, and everything seemed to go quiet, just for that instance, before Gabriel's eyes seemed to flicker from bronze to gold and he let out a decidedly pleasured noise, and the world rushed back in on them, like a wave.

Every car outside could have been the impala. Every voice that drifted in through the window could have been Castiel's, or Dean's. But it wasn't, not as Sam gulped for air and kissed Gabriel's throat again, teeth scraping against skin as Gabriel forced himself back onto the cock inside him. And then Sam's fist was around his cock, thumb brushing the sensitive head and fingers tracing the underside and that was Gabriel, coming over Sam's hand and tightening around him, moving his hips frantically as he felt the change in Sam's movements, a shudder moving through them both as Sam came too, collapsing them both backwards onto the bed.

When Sam woke up, the sheets were clean, he was dressed, and Gabriel was gone. Which was probably a good thing, because Dean was hitting the door with his fist and shouting for Sam to let them in, and Sam didn't know how he could have explained Gabriel's presence without Dean seeing right through any lies and excuses he could come up with. Instead he hid the only evidence of Gabriel's visit- the forgotten pack of M&Ms- in a draw and rushed to the door. They hadn't found Tacos, but they had found pizza, and that would do. And even as Dean shoved his way into the room with his arms full of boxes, Castiel managed to give Sam a very knowing look.

Sam, Dean and Castiel were a little worse for wear than they cared to admit. Even Castiel had a smudge of blood on his jaw, and Dean and Sam were much worse off. Dean was limping, leaning on Castiel as they made their way back to the motel room. Sam had gone ahead. It had been a close call, the coven had been larger than they'd thought, and Dean had rushed in without thinking, expecting it to be just some stupid teenagers messing with the occult. It hadn't been. It had been far bigger than that, far stronger, and far quicker than they'd expected. It was only Castiel that had saved Dean from becoming a permanent splatter on the wall of the basement, and for that Sam was grateful. But right now, walking with them, having to drive them back to the motel had been uncomfortable. Dean had been muttering something to Cas, something soft and Cas was bent to hear him, and Sam didn't want to know what was being said. He could guess what it was, and if he was right, it wasn't for him to hear anyway.

He opened the door of the motel room with trembling fingers, exhausted and he let his hand smack against the inside wall in the search for the light-switch a couple of times before he found it, stumbling forwards. He was tugging off his jacket before he noticed the little figure curled on the nearest bed. He recognised it instantly, it was the figure that haunted his dreams and increasingly, he more private moments. "Gabriel!" He hissed, expecting some sort of response. Dean and Castiel would be there any second, and this was just enough to push Dean over the edge and kill him. But the arch-angel didn't move from the foetal position he was curled in, and Sam summoned whatever strength he had left and moved to the bed, forcing the angel to turn and face him.

He almost wished he hadn't. Gabriel groaned, looking at him with blank, glassy eyes. He looked as bad as Sam felt, and that, that was impressive. He got up, off the bed, tumbling towards the door. Castiel and Dean were almost there, but Castiel spoke before Sam even knew what he was going to tell them. "Dean and I will be next door." The angel said in the same matter-of-fact voice he always used, as if he was explaining that yes, all of hell was after them or that he would rather like a hamburger. When they'd arrived a week ago they'd only hired the one room, but hey, Castiel was an angel, maybe he could summon up rooms. Maybe priority check-in was a perk of the job.

That wasn't even funny, but he was clutching at straws right then. He just nodded, stepping back as Castiel and Dean went on, the angel almost dragging his human now, Dean's feet no longer lifting off the floor when he tried to step forward. Sam watched them, until the door was, gently, but still pointedly, closed by Castiel, a signal that they were not to be disturbed. Hopefully Castiel knew a way to fix Dean, and he was going to try it now, because the way his brother had been gurgling and retching had not been healthy, not at all.

"Dean-o will be fine. Nothing can keep him down for long. I tried."

The voice was strained, and Sam wheeled around. Gabriel had turned, still curled in on himself, on top of the comforter, still looking at him with those eyes.

"Come in and shut the door, you make the place look messy." The arch-angel-turned-pagan-god-turned-royal-pain-in-the-ass added, one arm moving so that Gabriel could gesture Sam forward with the curl of his finger.

"I am in no mood to deal with you, Gabe." Sam said shutting his own door as he did was the angel wanted, slumping onto the bed and forcing the angel to move or be squashed. But as Gabriel didn't move, they just ended up looking at each other, knees touching. It would have been weird if he had the energy to feel weirded-out, but he didn't. So the contact was just slightly comforting.

Gabriel's hand moved now, sweeping the hair from Sam's eyes, from his forehead, studying the gash there and with a gentle stroke of his thumb the skin was healed, and the pain in his ribs began to fade from white-hot to just a bruised ache. Sam could feel it happening, even if he didn't see it. Castiel had healed them up enough times before; or sobered them up, but it never seemed to bother him, not little things like broken ribs and cuts, bruises. He just erased those easy, human hurts away. But Gabe shook slightly, before offering a familiar sort of grin, even if it was through a mask of exhaustion. "Just call me Doctor Sexy."

Sam snorted, shook his head, "That's Dean's fetish, not mine."

Gabriel made a face, moving a little closer. "The less I know about your brother's fetishes, the better, Sasquash." He murmured, his fingers curling into Sam's shirt-front and he seemed about ready to settle into sleep.

"Wait, you haven't told me what's wrong with you-"

Too late. Gabriel was asleep, his eyes closed and his head buried into Sam's shoulder. Sam sighed, breathing in the candy-floss scent of the short man's hair and giving up. In the morning, they would talk.

Sam woke at 07:37, according to the red dials on the motel alarm-clock. He was still dressed, still all in one piece and far too warm. He muttered something, something about it being too early to be awake but awake he was, and there was still a dirty-blonde angel pressed up against him. He'd forgotten about that. And Dean, and the Coven and the rest of it, but now he forced himself to get out of bed, backing away from Gabriel. It never hurt to be warily, even if Gabriel was less likely to try and kill them now. Gabriel still seemed to be asleep, and had managed to steal the blankets and comforters and curl them around himself. And all the pillows. But Sam wasn't surprised by that at all.

He needed to talk to him, find out why the angel looked half-dead, find out why he was back here, but right now he didn't have the heart to do it.

"He needs to sleep. Do not wake him."

Sam turned again, as fast as he could, reaching for the gun stuffed into his jeans but no, it wasn't there, was it? He'd lost it the night before. But the figure sat on the other bed, dressed in a trench-coat was instantly recognizable.

"Cas? How's Dean? What's going on? Why is Gabriel here?"

The angel glanced up at the younger Winchester, considering the question. "Dean will not face any permanent damage. He attempted to leave the room earlier; I have suggested to him that he rest. I will let him wake once his body is further recovered." He glanced back to Gabriel then, and let his hands fold together between his spread knees. He seemed to be thinking, or maybe listening, his head tilted to one side. "Gabriel is here because he cannot, or will not, return to the Host in his current condition. I think he feels safe here He may have tried, I'm not entirely certain, but our brothers are not keen to encourage..."

"Condition?" Sam interrupted, playing catch-up, and he didn't need the withering look that Castiel gave him. "Fuck!"

He could only blame himself. He knew it, he knew he couldn't trust Gabriel but he'd been caught up in the moment and yes he hadn't been careful and after what Gabriel had said... this was all his fault. He could have engaged his brain at any point but no. He was too busy with a wriggling angel in his lap. And now he had that angel in his bed.

"Not just your fault, kiddo. Takes two to Tango." Gabriel was shifting, not getting out of the bed but pulling the blankets closer around himself, before stretching his hand out towards Castiel. The other angel passed over the pillows and then the comforter wordlessly, and Sam couldn't cope with it, not right then. Maybe this was a weird dream, and so he went to the bathroom, splashing water on his face and gasping as it went down his neck. Okay. He could deal with this. He could find out what Gabriel was doing-

"Making a nest"

-And find out how long he planned on staying-

"Until Angelica-Marie is born"

-And how he was going to break it to Dean that he'd fathered some strange creature-

"A Nephilim" (that was Castiel's voice)

-With Gabriel, arch-angel of the Lord, aka Loki, the Trickster-

"Er, I don't have an answer for that one, kiddo."

-Who insisted on reading his mind, apparently.

Sam went back into the other room, trying to keep his expression neutral. The angels had been busy, not just listening into his thoughts, but pushing the two beds together, and now Castiel was lying down too, wrapped in his trench-coat, facing his brother.

"Right... so... angels make nests." He began, because that was easier to deal with right then than the rest of his thoughts. Gabriel nodded in reply, slowly, as if he was talking to a child. He was still on the bed, but now Sam was talking, he had pushed himself up on his elbows. It had been... weeks, a couple of months at least since their... well, since he'd... they'd...

"Fucked" Gabriel supplied with a wriggle of his eyebrows, making Castiel cringe.

"Thanks." Sam said, feeling like cringing too. He might have done, once, but he didn't now, just moving to what was now a giant, wide bed. Sam sat, on the edge, and that was when Gabriel shuffled up to him. He didn't look any different. For some reason, Sam had expected a belly, an actual baby bump but those didn't appear for months, and besides, Gabriel was an angel. And a guy, at least in this meat-suit. There wasn't going to be a bump.

"There could be. I mean, it's just going to get in the way." Gabriel murmured, the smile on his face a little more... trustworthy than Sam had seen before. It wasn't a leer, or a smirk. It was a genuine-to-god smile. Sam smiled back, for a moment. "I think without is probably better." He muttered, especially if Gabriel was going to hang around till- "Wait, Angelica-Marie?"

"What, don't you like it?" Gabriel asked, his voice soft as he stroked the damp hair at Sam's temples. "Angelica-Marie Lollipop." He muttered, and then added, "I don't know what last-name to go for. Winchester or Tricksler."

Sam sat, just for a moment, making sure his brain wasn't melting out of his ears. He could deal with a lot of stuff, but this, this was right up there on the strange personal-level scale. "Angelica. Don't you think that's a bit, well, obvious? And Lollipop isn't a name, Gabriel, it's a food. It's not even a food." The angel looked at him, just for a second, before leaning in and kissing his cheek. Sam didn't try to move away, although he wasn't sure why. But he felt a lot of his argument slip away, and he sighed. Gabriel was going to win, he could see it now. He tried one last time though, trying to keep a grip on logic rather that slide into Gabriel's happy-everything-will-be-okay frame of mind. "How do you even know it's a girl?"

Gabriel smiled again, forcing himself closer into Sam's chest, until Sam had to lift his arm and curl it around the angel. "I just know that our baby is a girl, Sammy. Angel-mojo, it's very useful." And then the arch-angel yawned, and slipped back towards the pile of duvets and pillows, trying to tug Sam with him.

Cas had disappeared, probably to check on Dean or... or something, Sam noticed as there was a much stronger tug that forced him to join Gabriel , whether he wanted to or not, and once he was down, Gabriel pulled the hunters arms around him. "Angels have to be looked after." He was explaining, "We're very delicate, gentle creatures who need love and support from our mates. And some Pepsi and white-chocolate chip cookies too, if you do go out later, Sammikins." And with that, Gabriel was asleep again, and Sam had no choice but to stay there until the grip on him loosened, letting his finger-tips stroke up to the skin revealed between Gabriel's jeans and shirt. As weird as this was... it was sort of nice, too.

Dean groaned. It was the sort of groan that came from the very depths of his soul, reverberated around his ribcage for a while and then broke from his lips like a curse. He hurt all over. His head hurt, his neck hurt, his shoulders hurt, his ribs hurt, his lower-back, everything. Possibly the only think that didn't hurt was his pride, but as soon as he remembered what he'd done to end up like this, he was sure that would be damaged too. He knew that Cas had made him rest, had forced him to stay in bed. Something about mixing magics or something, so Dean would have to heal at his own place. He had never been so bored in all his life.

He'd been in bed... more than a month, almost two, if the date on the motel clock could be trusted. And he had no intention of staying in bed any longer. Cas was almost always there when he woke up, watching or sitting on the edge of the bed, but Sam had been conspicuous in his absence. And Castiel, when he was asked, tended to try and avoid Dean's questions on his brother, saying that Sam was well or busy, or attending to something. And all that translated to, in Dean's head was that Sam was out on a hunt, without him. And without Castiel, because Cas was there with Dean. Sam was stupid enough to go out there and fight something... something urgent, otherwise he would have waited for Dean to get better. And he'd gone out there alone.

"Moron!" Dean shouted, forcing himself to get out of bed, hunting for the clothes Castiel had tidied away. He was up, yes, but still bent with pain and it took far too long to get into his jeans. Part of him wanted to think he was too young to feel this tired and this worn out, but he rejected that. He'd recovered from worse, although he wasn't exactly sure what he was recovering from now. The last thing he remembered was seeing a whole bunch of witches, not the little teen coven he'd expected.

He gave himself a minute, to catch his breath, to mask the twinges in his ribs and his back and shoulders. What the fuck had happened? It felt like Castiel had stuck him back together bit by bit. He could hear the angel though, through the thin motel room walls, and dammit, he'd expected Cas to be there, to see him awake and up and almost healed. He'd possibly dreamed it (although he doubted it, and if he had, he was having some weird motherfucking dreams) but while he'd been in bed, he'd seen, maybe felt, Castiel leaning over him, checking him, looking at him with concern guilt maybe. There had been something else too, something Dean hadn't recognised, but he certainly had done once the angel's lips had brushed over his own. You never kissed an unconscious guy, he wanted to jump up and explain. But Dean didn't find himself upset. No. Dream him or unconsciously conscious him or whatever, he'd wanted to kiss back. But his limbs had been too heavy to pull Castiel down, to have him close. Sure, he might have been too exhausted for sex (and that, Dean assured, was all that was going on) but Castiel always managed to make things better.

He sucked down a lungful of air, heading forwards, determined not to seem hurt or weak or any of that shit as he moved down the corridor, able to hear Castiel's laughter from Sam's room. They'd been sharing before, but weren't now and that was strange. He couldn't hear Sam with, which was stranger. What the fuck was the angel laughing about on his own? He'd never understood human comedy, so he probably wasn't sat watching TV.

Dean caught the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but it swung open at his touch, and he stepped forward, feet crunching on the line of salt. Not just a line, but as he glanced down, little sigils too, odd ones, ones he didn't recognise. So, they couldn't lock a door to keep mad humans out, but they were going to keep out crazy demons. Right.

"Dean-o!"

That made Dean's head snap up so fast that his neck cracked. "What the fuck?" he managed, hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. There was one fucking massive bed in the room, covered with what looked like every blanket and pillow in the motel, the TV repositioned and blaring out some cooking show. Candy wrappers, pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese food littered every flat surface and some of the non-flat ones too. It looked like the room had been handed over to a group of kids for a week.

And there in the middle of it, sat cross-legged on the bed, was his angel, a hand of cards held inexpertly, hesitantly, and there, opposite, smiling and shirtless, was Gabriel. The Trickster. And there was no sign of Sammy anywhere.

"Where the fuck-" Dean began, when he managed to get his mind back into gear.

"Dean," Castiel was there, in front of him in less than a blink, his hands carefully on Dean's chest, a barrier between an unexploded Winchester and an archangel popping Skittles like there was no tomorrow. "Your brother is in no danger. He will be returning shortly. I am sorry I did not hear you wake, Gabriel has been trying to teach me Poker but I don't seem to be a very good pupil."

Dean couldn't help it, an involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Poker?" He asked, eyebrow rising, and Castiel's gaze broke, unable to meet Dean's eyes as he nodded. It was kind of cute. He couldn't picture it though, Castiel who looked like a tax accountant, sat in a dark, smoky room, sipping a beer with a handful of guys that looked, to varying degrees, like Bobby.

"Technically, Strip Poker," Gabriel proclaimed from the bed, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, his lips a mixture of rainbow shades. And then he leaned over to turn over the cards the seraphim had left behind, clicking his tongue in irritation. "You should join us, Deano. Only way we're going to get Mr Prude here out of that trench-coat."

That broke the moment, and Dean's eyes narrowed again, trying to take a step closer to the irritating angel. But Castiel's hands were on his chest again. If it hadn't been to hold Dean back, he might have enjoyed the touch.

"Dean," Castiel chastised again, pushing the human a step backwards. "Gabriel does not mean what he says. He is in a very delicate state currently and-"

"Delicate state? He's getting fat but-"

"Dean," This time his name was a sigh, exasperated. Sometimes Castiel was surprisingly like Sam, trying to teach Dean Secrets of the Universe or just social etiquette, to explain to him something he didn't quite understand, trying to stop him speaking his mind if it would make him like a fool. "Gabriel is carrying your brother's child, he is not fat."

This time Castiel didn't manage to stop Dean charging forward to the bed, to Gabriel, whose eyes were wide, bright copper and flecks of gold, the bag of skittles dropped as he tried to shift away from the older, more aggressive Winchester. Why he didn't just snap his fingers and turn Dean into a rocking horse or something, Dean didn't know. He managed to catch Gabriel on the arm anyway, holding him still. There was no sudden flash of pain, no sudden realisation of how old and powerful Gabriel was, nothing.

"Delicate!" Gabriel shouted, "Cassie said I was delicate! Don't you listen?" The angel said, clearly annoyed not only with Dean, but at the fact Dean hadn't been replaced with some sort of mewing ball of fluff. He grabbed as one of the pillows on the bed, throwing it as Dean, which seemed to alleviate some of Gabriel's stress.

"What the shit are you trying to pull?" Dean shouted back, and he could feel Castiel twitch even if he couldn't see it.

And that was the scene when Sam got back. He'd been out to pick some things up, a DVD from the store and some food and some candy for Gabriel. A lot of Candy. Sam had thought he ate too much of it before, but over the last couple of weeks, Gabriel had almost tripled his intact. The more human he seemed to get, the more his powers receded as his Grace (according to Castiel) focused on the fledging, the more he wanted sweets. Sam was going to have to talk to him, about balanced diets and calcium and the rest of it.

They weren't normal thoughts, Sam knew that, but they were becoming normal. He wasn't allowed to finish them though, Dean's voice echoing through the corridor and the motel had to be empty if no one else was peering out their doors to find out what the hell was going on. He dropped the bag, running forwards. The door of the room was open, which worried Sam even more. He'd left Castiel there, knowing that he could protect Gabriel and Dean if anything turned up, but now he realised maybe that was too much to ask. He should have stayed.

Because Dean had gone mad. He was stretched over the bed, holding onto Gabriel by the wrist as the archangel beat him around the head with a pillow. Sam could have laughed, once he realised that Dean was not possessed, but the distress in Gabriel's face was too much. He crossed the room, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "Let go of Gabriel, Dean!" Yes, he could have just tugged Dean, but he'd just pull Gabriel over then too. The grip on Dean's shoulders seemed to work though, and Dean let go, whirling around and almost knocking heads with his brother.

Castiel was there then too, next to his brother, murmuring to him in Enochian, Gabriel's breathing becoming steadier, although he was still shooting death-glares at Dean, a hand over the swelling in his stomach. "He said I was fat..." Sam heard the angel pout, more hurt than angry, and Sam wondered, not for the first time, what he'd done to deserve this.

"Dean, there's some things we need to talk about." He began, ignoring his brother when he replied no shit, Sherlock.

Explaining things to Dean sometimes took longer than he would have liked. Sometimes his brother was very, very quick on the uptake, but apparently he still wasn't 100% recovered, and this was, Sam had to admit, fairly weird stuff. It took a while just to explain that Sam wasn't as straight as Dean thought, that he liked guys and that while the whole pregnancy thing wasn't his idea, he'd not been coerced or tricked into it. And then, to Dean's credit, he was much calmer. He stopped giving Gabriel dirty looks too. And half-way though, as Dean seemed to accept the fact that Gabriel was going to part of their weird little family from now on, Sam couldn't help notice that, underneath the table, Castiel had reached out for Dean's hand, and Dean had taken it.