guineamaow: (OTP)
[personal profile] guineamaow
Title: Dropping The Ball
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Gabriel
Spoilers: none for the show, but see notes
Warnings: schmoop
Word Count: 1,051
Summary: Gabriel decides he wants to try his hand at celebrating holidays with Sam.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Supernatural universe. It is the property of Eric Kripke/the CW Network. This story was not written for profit and no offense is meant to anyone.
Note: Set in the same 'verse as Everything's (Not) Alright and Welcome To My Nightmare, but is not a direct sequel to the latter.

Sam can't even remember the last time he celebrated New Year's, much less celebrated it this quietly. Does anyone even do that anymore? Maybe if they have normal lives and they're not constantly on the move from one job to the next, hunting down whatever they find that's trying to kill innocent people, but Sam? Yeah, not very likely. It's been years since he even bothered to celebrate Christmas and at the time, he'd been doing it more out of a desire to have one last memory of Dean that was truly happy than anything else. This year, he's celebrated the Fourth of July, Leif Erikson Day, Halloween, the winter solstice, Christmas… and now this, all because a certain archangel had decided he wanted to try his hand at a few human traditions.

Some of it had been a disaster and some had resulted in mostly accidental meet-ups with a few of Gabriel's old acquaintances, but mostly, it's been… Well, really nice celebrating holidays and being normal for up to a week at a time. The breaks are always welcome and while it's taken a while to get used to Gabriel's idea of "normal", Sam thinks he could very easily get used to doing this every year. Driving to somewhere known for its celebration of that holiday, getting a room in a hotel Sam knows they could never afford without Gabriel's mojo in play… He can only imagine what's going to happen when his birthday comes around again.

Right now, they're sprawled out on the bed in a luxurious suite in some hotel Sam can't be bothered to remember the name of, partially because of the loud party noises coming from just outside the hotel in Times Square and partially because he's got his head propped on Gabriel's stomach while the archangel runs his fingers through hair that Sam knows he should really get around to trimming at some point. The nearby television is tuned to some broadcast of the celebrations, but it's more background noise than anything.

"All those people out there," Sam says, gesturing vaguely at the glass doors leading out to the balcony. "They probably go out there every year and get completely wasted, then don't remember a damn thing about what they did when they wake up in the morning."

Gabriel snorts and Sam's head gets bounced a little. "Your point, Sammy?"

"It's Sam and my point-" Sam stretches and twists around so he can look up at Gabriel, his head now somewhere closer to the archangel's chest. "-is that we didn't go out there. We stayed in and tomorrow morning, we're going to remember everything. I like that. I like being able to remember nights like this, when you make me take a break from hunting so we can be… sort of normal."

"I like it too. Seems like you forget sometimes that you're just one person now that you're not hunting with Dean anymore." Gabriel leans down awkwardly to kiss the top of Sam's head, then turns his attention to the television, his expression twisting into a confused frown. "What is it about New Year's that makes humans do that?"

Sam sits up to see that the screen is showing images of some part of the world where it's now midnight. People are dancing around and kissing everyone they can get their hands on. "What, kiss at midnight? I don't know. Maybe… maybe just a way of starting the year off peacefully or showing affection to someone. Or…" He pauses, head tilting as he watches a couple of guys break apart from women he assumes are their girlfriends or wives to start kissing each other in a way that he's sure is making the censors shit their collective pants. "Maybe they're just really happy drunks."

For a minute, they sit there in silence watching the people on the screen celebrating the new year and Sam realizes that this is probably the first time in his long existence that Gabriel has ever celebrated any kind of holiday that wasn't directly related to the worship of himself as an archangel or a Trickster. He's not either of those things tonight or on any of the other holidays they've celebrated since Gabriel was resurrected. He's just Gabriel and maybe that's part of the whole point. It's not just about reminding Sam that he's only one person and that he is allowed to enjoy himself once in a while.

He glances at the tiny clock in one corner of the screen - one minute to midnight - and smiles, then drags himself up to a more comfortable position next to Gabriel. "We should start doing that. Make it a tradition."

"What, getting drunk and happy on New Year's Eve," Gabriel asks, and Sam really can't blame him for being confused after how long they've both been silent.

The screen is back to showing Times Square, but even without it, Sam would be able to hear the countdown - 10, 9, 8… "I was thinking more along the lines of this." As the countdown reaches zero and the giant glowing ball hits its target, Sam leans forward to capture Gabriel's lips in a kiss. Nothing so passionate as what he's come to expect from the archangel, with teeth nipping and tongue teasing until neither of them can keep from wanting more. Just a sweet, dry press of lips, one of Sam's hands curled into the hair at the back of Gabriel's neck.

It's Gabriel that pulls back first and Sam can see that, despite the chasteness of the kiss, his pupils are blown wide and there's a little flare of grace shining in that dark space. "Sam, that's…"

Sam almost laughs at the fact that he's all but rendered the archangel speechless, choosing instead to lean forward and press their foreheads together, both arms moving down to wrap around Gabriel's waist. "I love you, Gabriel." It's barely more than a whisper, but the words are there all the same. They don't say it out loud very often - there's a reason the phrase 'actions speak louder than words' is so wide-spread - but for this one night at least, it's going to become a tradition if Sam has anything to say about it.

"Me too, Sam. I love you too."


guineamaow: (Default)
Guinea Maow

March 2011

  12 345
6 789101112
13 141516171819

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 18th, 2017 07:59 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios