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supernaturalscribe67 · 2 days

Text

Destiny

Words: 7,528

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Male!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Slight Angst (if you squint), Language, Brotherly Drama/Teasing, Sexual Innuendos

Summary: (Y/N) Winchester never thought he would have to play a prominent role in the fight between Michael and Lucifer, but when Gabriel's attempt at convincing Sam and Dean to accept their destiny fails, (Y/N) is left pondering the situation at hand. What happens when Gabriel reveals the truth behind his disappearance from Heaven and his own role in the fight?

Heavily Inspired by S5.8 "Changing Channels"

Request:

Hey!! I was hoping you would be able to do this request.

It could feature hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff :)

Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

He could be trans or cis, up to you.

There was a younger Winchester brother, and with 3 full blooded Winchesters meant of course, a 3rd vessel. Gabriel's vessle. You both aren't keen on the idea of possession and end up falling for each other? Destiny had brought them together for battle but their hearts yearned for something else.

(something along those lines atleast)

@genekies

A/N: I've sat here for the last ten minutes staring at the Summary because my brain is non-existent right now. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this! Sorry it's so late! I also hope you don't mind that I changed the 'younger' Winchester to a middle Winchester~ I enjoyed writing something cute and fluffy after that heavy story I posted! Feedback is appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It’s him. It’s Doctor Sexy.”

“Nutcracker!”

“I’ve got genital herpes.”

(Y/N) blamed himself for this. Why he thought any hunt he and his brothers did would be normal was beyond him. When was anything the Winchesters did ever normal?

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d encountered tricksters, none of them pleasant. Still, something about this trickster was different. Slight abnormalities in the realm of possibilities, Sam, Dean, and Castiel all agreed, Castiel seeming to know more than them, but unable to voice his thoughts before being whisked away by said ‘trickster’. From there, the Winchester brothers were tossed from TV show to TV show, enduring humiliation and awkward conversation. It wasn’t until Sam was transformed into the Impala that it clicked.

It wasn’t a trickster. It was an angel.

That was how they ended up in an abandoned warehouse, the angel stood in the center of a ring of Holy Fire. (Y/N) tried to hide the exhaustion on his face that resulted from their hectic escapades. What he would kill to go back to their motel, crawl under the scratchy covers, and go to sleep.

“Where’s you get the Holy Oil?” The angel asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

“Well, I guess you could say we pulled it out of Sam’s ass,” Dean replied, straight-faced.

Sam clenched his jaw and sent a death glare towards him. (Y/N) snickered, earning him the same glare. He pressed his lips together, mumbled a faint ‘sorry’ under his breath, and turned his attention back towards the wannabe trickster.

The smirk he had vanished. “Where’d I screw up?” He asked.

“You didn’t,” Sam shook his head. “Nobody gets a jump on Cas like you did.”

“It was the way you talked about Armageddon,” Dean explained.

“Meaning?” The angel furrowed his brows.

“Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they’re talking about their own family.”

The angel looked away and lowered his head, a silent confirmation of their suspicions.

“So, which one are you?” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of his cheeks, lowering his head to hide the small smile that appeared. Despite the gravity of the situation, he had to admit that Sam’s question was a little funny. He blamed it on him being tired. He was quick to erase the expression off his face before lifting his head. The angel’s gaze shifted over to Sam, and he hesitated for a moment.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.”

“The archangel?” Sam asked.

“Guilty.”

“Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?” Dean questioned.

Gabriel shifted. “I consider it my own, private Witness Protection. I skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, and carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you three screwed it up,” his tone was full of irritation.

(Y/N), Sam, and Dean shared a glance, almost as if communicating telepathically with one another - something they had become accustomed to growing up. While they knew significant details about the conflict between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, it seemed, to them, that the situation ran a lot deeper than it originally appeared.

“So, boys, now what?” Gabriel’s voice broke them out of their trance. “Are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

Dean licked his lips. ‘Well, first of all, you’re going to bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, or we’re going to dunk you in some Holy Oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw, looking over at Sam, then at (Y/N). All of them shared the same serious expression. Poking his tongue into his cheek, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Shuffling could be heard behind the trio as they turned their heads to see a disheveled Castiel. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and a small cut ran across the bridge of his nose. Blood was splattered on the collar of his trenchcoat. He stumbled slightly.

“Cas, you okay?” (Y/N) asked.

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied, his icy gaze locked on Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel.”

Gabriel lowered his hand, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled tightly. “Hey, bro. How’s the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful,” Gabriel’s tone was harsh.

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that there was more going on in Heaven than the Winchesters were led to believe. Multiple sides mean multiple stories. Who knows what really happened?

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Sam, (Y/N)?” Dean slowly started to step towards the exit.

Sam was the first to move, while (Y/N) seemed hesitant. In the end, he, too, turned his back on Gabriel and made his way towards his brothers. Castiel soon followed.

“No,” Gabriel muttered. “Okay…hey, guys, so…” he stumbled over his words. “So what, huh? You’re just, you’re just gonna leave me here forever?”

When the group reached the door, they all turned back to him.

“No,” Dean began. “We’re not, because we don’t screw with people the way you do. And, for the record, this isn’t about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can’t be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, as if to object, but stopped himself. He lowered his head in shame, turning his back to them. Wordlessly, Dean looked back, spotting a fire alarm on the wall. He easily broke the glass surrounding the alarm and pulled the handle. A shrill, faded sound echoed within the broken building. As Gabriel looked up, the aged sprinkler system burst open, showering him with cold water. Gabriel gazed at them, his face filled with defeat.

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” Dean called out over the sound of the alarm.

With that, Sam, Dean, and Castiel turned their backs one last time on Gabriel, walking out of the building. (Y/N), however, stayed put, his eyes locked onto Gabriel’s. He studied the look of hurt on his face, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt. A part of him wanted to say something, to turn around and provide him with some type of comfort. They didn’t know what Gabriel was going through, nor what had caused him to leave Heaven in the first place. Perhaps, all he needed was someone to be there. To allow him to be heard. (Y/N) could relate to that feeling. Alas, as the ring of Holy Fire began to dissipate, over the blaring sound of the alarm, he could hear the faint shout of his older brother calling out his name. (Y/N) looked at the warehouse door, the breeze from the early morning shifting his wetting hair, then back to Gabriel. For a moment, he cast an apologetic look his way before he, swiftly, left the building.

*~*

A couple of weeks after the incident with Gabriel, (Y/N) couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts at bay. Although his brothers had all since left the interaction behind them, refocusing their attention on their odd hunting jobs, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the reminder of the expression on Gabriel’s face. He had taken the time to carefully consider what Gabriel had been going through, or what he had been through before he had left Heaven. Sure, he wasn’t aware of the extent of it all, but he could sure sympathize with how it felt to be stuck between his brothers during their spats. Sam and Dean never threatened the sanctity of Heaven over their problems, but still.

(Y/N) had taken many walks since then, because sleep had been so easily unobtainable. On nights when Sam and Dean slept soundly on their motel room beds - or couch, depending on who lost in the coin toss - (Y/N) would slink out of the room into the night. Alternatively, in the morning, if sleep didn’t come after the first walk, he would go on another, ultimately stopping for breakfast on his way back to the motel to appease his brothers.

Sam and Dean were none the wiser.

On those walks, his mind would always shift to Gabriel and the predicament he was in. In a way, he disagreed with what Dean had said to Gabriel. But, with everything that was said by Gabriel, himself, he partially agreed with it as well. Why was Gabriel so adamant about Sam and Dean allowing Lucifer and Michael to take possession of them for a fight that he wasn’t even willing to fight himself? He felt so in the dark about the whole debacle. Although he wasn’t directly involved in it, he was still interested to know what the fate of his brothers could be. It was thoughts and questions like those that kept his mind racing in the early hours of the morning, making him unable to get an adequate amount of sleep.

That night was no different. The three of them had traveled to a town along the East Coast, following the clues of a possible Wendigo. The case had just started, and the interviews and clues left much to be desired. They weren’t even close to pinpointing the approximate area in the nearby woodland where it could reside. Sam and Dean were running thin, and (Y/N) was no help. Not with the way his mind had been racing lately. It wasn’t like he could help it, though. He tried, he did, and a part of him couldn’t see how Sam and Dean were able to concentrate whilst everything was going on in Heaven. He had always envied them for their sense of focus, something he lacked greatly at times. When he started the walks, clearing his mind was his initial goal, but going out on his own, in the dead of night, only seemed to make his thoughts louder.

The town was small, and barely had much of a park, just some cheap playground equipment that looked as if it needed to be updated and a small trail. (Y/N) was thankful for the benches that were laid along the path. Despite the park’s size, it had a beautiful view; a full panoramic of the deep, dark ocean past craggy cliffs, cut off by a steel fence. The ocean was loud and, despite the distance from the land to the sea, mist sprayed (Y/N)’s face faintly, painting his features with minuscule water droplets. He had worn a jacket that night. Even though it was surprisingly hot during the day, as soon as the sun dropped, the temperatures did as well.

(Y/N) had been sat on the bench for close to an hour. If he had to guess, it was nearly midnight. Not once had he been able to keep Gabriel out of his mind. Gabriel, the fight, Sam, and Dean, all took turns at the forefront of his brain, but Gabriel won most of the time. He always drifted to the sad, kicked puppy-dog look he had before he left. He couldn’t imagine what Gabriel had to go through. (Y/N) thought Sam and Dean were impossible to be with all the time, but he couldn’t fathom being near Michael and Lucifer as much as Gabriel must have. He must have been quite burnt out.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A voice jerked (Y/N) from his train of thought.

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide as he looked towards the direction of the voice. Stood, about a foot away from the bench, was Gabriel. His expression was soft, his brown hair partially damp, the locks illuminated slightly by the nearby street lamp. Once his heart rate began to return to normal, (Y/N) nodded and gestured towards the empty seat next to him.

“Sure,” he mumbled.

With a short nod, Gabriel shuffled over and sat down, leaning against the back of the bench. His legs were slightly spread and his hands were clasped together in his lap. For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of the crashing waves from below. Even though Gabriel had done so much to the Winchesters as a part of his trickster ‘Witness Protection’, (Y/N) didn’t feel any resentment towards him, nor did he feel agitation, even with his proximity. A part of him thought he should be, that was how Dean would react, at least. Shouldn’t he be at least a little bit pissed? Perhaps it was the weeks of thinking, working the idea into his head that he and Gabriel could, potentially, have more in common than he originally thought. It could be that he was more forgiving than his brother. In the end, (Y/N) chalked it up to him being a great judge of character.

“How did you find me?” (Y/N) broke the silence.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“How did you find me? These symbols, or whatever, Cas put on my ribs were supposed to stop angels from being able to find me. Or did he just tattoo my ribs for nothing?”

Gabriel let out a faint chuckle and shook his head. “I admit, you were hard to find. All I did, though, was follow the sound of your prayers. They were quieter than most, but they were still noticeable.”

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel, confused. “Prayers? I didn’t pray to you.”

“I guess not technically. I know that wasn’t your intention half the time, but, every time you thought of me, asked those questions, made those statements, it was as if you did.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips and gave a faint nod. “I see…”

They were, once again, engulfed in silence as they stared out onto the water. No one said anything. Surprisingly, it was peaceful.

“I guess I should be asking why you found me. Why are you here, Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked.

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, fumbling with his fingers. “Look, I’m not good at this sort of thing, but…” he trailed. “I thought I should come here and apologize. For everything.”

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel as he placed his hands into his jacket pockets and leaned back against the bench. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Sam and Dean, too?”

Gabriel snorted. “Are you kidding? Those two would probably stab me before I even had the chance to say anything.”

(Y/N) smirked. “I guess you’re right. The fact that you were practically hounding them to accept being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels doesn’t help your case either.”

“Yeah, I realized that I probably went about it the wrong way.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, I definitely went about it the wrong way.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” (Y/N) mumbled. “Why the fight, Gabriel? I mean, why now?”

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “Michael and Luci have been going at it for centuries. Even before this fight, they were at each other’s throats half the time.” he began to rub his fingers together. “But, this fight…it wasn’t originally supposed to only be those two.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gabriel stuttered before he stood up. Slowly, he began to pace back and forth in front of (Y/N), looking between the ground and his hands. “You know what it’s like, right? Your brothers are arguing about the dumbest things and they’ve been going at it for a while, getting a little carried away, so you have to step in and, um,”

“Be the mediator?”

“Yeah! You have to try and calm them down so they don’t kill each other?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve had to do that plenty of times with Sam and Dean.”

“Right. Back then, I had to do the same thing with Michael and Luci. Sometimes it worked, and other times, not so much. With this fight, that’s what I was supposed to do.”

“Wait, this fight that they want to use Sam and Dean for? How’re you supposed to mediate that?”

“I was just supposed to make sure they didn’t actually kill each other. Try to get them to talk it out. I’ve always been good at that, so it would only make sense that I would take a crack at it this go around. However, since they would be at their full power in their vessels, the last thing that needed to happen was for them to turn on me, kill me, and then each other. So, to make sure I had enough power, I, also, have to have a vessel.”

Gabriel stopped pacing in front of him and finally faced him, his hands together in front of him. (Y/N) stared at him intently, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was as if Gabriel could see the gears working in his mind. If Michael needed a vessel, which was Dean, and Lucifer needed a vessel, which was Sam, then, that meant…

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Am I your vessel?” He breathed.

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gabriel smirked, although it wasn’t as confident as the one he had when he was covered by his trickster persona.

(Y/N)’s mouth sat agape. He was gobsmacked. His lips moved up and down as he tried to form words, but his mind nor mouth would work. It all made sense, though. Why would Sam and Dean be the only vessels? Why had he never considered that he, too, was destined to be one? It was clear as glass, yet, the thought never crossed his mind.

“You know, when you think about it, it kind of makes sense that you’re my vessel. I mean, you’re the mediator, I’m the mediator. You’re the middle child, I’m practically the middle child. There are, actually, a lot of similarities between you and me. So, it was a great pick,” Gabriel rambled, placing his hands on his hips.

(Y/N) help his hand up. “Gabriel, just…stop.”

Gabriel looked down and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he pursed his lips.

(Y/N) sat there and attempted to wrap his head around the whole situation. His thoughts were foggy and the front of his head was starting to pound. He reached his hands up and began to massage his temples.

“So, what you’re saying,” (Y/N) let out a breathy chuckle. “Is that you, the archangel Gabriel, are supposed to use me as a mediator for your two power-hungry brothers who, may I remind you, are also archangels?”

Slowly, Gabriel nodded. “Basically.”

“And you think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?”

Gabriel sighed. “Look,” He returned to his spot on the bench next to (Y/N), his body now facing him. “The times when my mediation did work was when they had their smaller fights. Little bickers here and there. When Michael and Luci are really, really mad at each other, nothing can get between them. So, most likely, what would happen is I would need to get involved in the fight to stop them.”

“Oh, God,” (Y/N) grumbled and placed his face into his hands.

“But, believe me, that is the last thing I want to do. I mean, Michael and Luci, they’re both strong on their own, but, if they were to team up against me for trying to stop them, even with you as my vessel, I don’t stand a chance. It would be two against one.”

(Y/N) just nodded, running his hands down his face, his gaze returning to the cool, pounding waves. A chill ran down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he had gotten, what with the mix of wind and misty air.

“Why are you telling me this now?” He asked quietly. “Why wasn’t I told any of this before?”

“Well, when I went off the grid, everyone just assumed that it was my way of backing out of the fight. In a way, I guess they were right.”

“And back at the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I still had no intention of joining the fight. However, after what Dean had said to me…” Gabriel shook his head. “I realized that he was right. I am a coward. I tried to push your brothers into accepting their roles as vessels because I want this fight to be done and over with. I just wish the fight didn’t have to happen. I figured it would be wrong if I didn’t tell you now. You deserve to know.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And, for the record, I don’t want this fight to happen either. The last thing I want is my brothers to get involved in something that has nothing to do with them.”

“The fight’s gonna happen one way or another, and I thought getting your brothers to go along would be the best way to go about it. Once I listened to your prayers, though, I realized how it would affect you. I know you wouldn’t want to lose either one of your brothers, even though they can be assholes sometimes.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, unlike your brothers, mine can be caring and nice when they want to be.”

“Believe it or not, Michael and Luci both have the capability of being nice! I witnessed it firsthand.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not! Granted, they were a whole lot nicer when they were fledglings, kind of got a little rocky as they got older, but they could still be nice!”

“Wait, wait, wait, fledglings?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re fledglings?”

“Newborn angels.”

“So…baby angels?”

“In a sense,” Gabriel shrugged. A mischievous smirk then appeared at the corner of his lips. “Do you want to hear some embarrassing stories about when Michael and Luci were younger?”

“Of course I do,” (Y/N) sat back, turning his body to face Gabriel as well.

“Okay, but, in return, you have to tell me some embarrassing stories about your brothers.”

(Y/N) bit his lip as he contemplated the offer. Finally, he smirked. “Deal.”

For the next while, Gabriel and (Y/N) went back and forth, sharing their embarrassing stories from their abnormal families. They joked, laughed, and, overall, had a good time. Not only did it lighten the mood from the bombshell Gabriel had dropped, but it allowed them to grasp a basic understanding of their past and present lives.

There were a few things (Y/N) learned throughout their conversation. One; Gabriel and his brothers shared some scary similarities with the Winchesters in regards to mannerisms and attitudes. Two; Gabriel could talk for a millenia if he was given the opportunity. And three; (Y/N) felt oddly calm around Gabriel. It hadn’t even struck him how easily Gabriel was able to shift the conversation as smoothly as he did. (Y/N) wasn’t too sure how he could feel that way around him. As they sat there and talked, after everything that was said, and after everything that happened with the warehouse incident - he’ll never forget the nutcracker - he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of comfort around him. There was something about Gabriel that filled (Y/N) with a sense of peace and belonging, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as to why that was.

It wasn’t like he was complaining, though.

They talked until the moon sat near the far end of the sky. Unbeknownst to them, the two had begun to scoot closer to one another as the conversation continued, getting to the point where their knees and shoulders were touching. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Neither of them pulled away out of instinct. It felt right. It felt natural.

Gabriel droned on and on about, yet, another story when Lucifer was a young angel. He seemed to have more stories about him than he did of Michael. (Y/N) was quite the opposite. He had more stories about Dean than he did with Sam. Both of them laughed as Gabriel tried his best to continue.

“So - so Dad got angry because Lucifer kept letting the bugs out of their sanctuary, and -” Gabriel looked over at (Y/N), and his smile vanished.

(Y/N) glanced up at him, noticing the change of demeanor instantly. His smile, too, disappeared. “Is something wrong?”

As he kept his eye on him, Gabriel reached up and gently brushed his thumb against (Y/N)’s bottom lip. (Y/N) felt his cheeks heat up and his brows furrow in confusion.

“Your lips are blue,” Gabriel stated. He glanced up at the sky and his brows shot up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize we had been out here so long.” Gabriel sat up.

“How long how we been out here?” (Y/N) dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

3:27 AM

“Oh shit,” he mumbled as he quickly stood up.

His legs and ass were completely numb, causing him to sway at the rapid movement. Gabriel was by his side in an instant, hands on his shoulders to steady him. They had been out together for, close to, four hours. No wonder (Y/N)’s lips were blue. He shivered, teeth chattering lightly. Once (Y/N) was able to stand on his own, Gabriel took off his jacket and draped it over (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) shook his head.

“Oh, no, Gabriel, it’s okay. I just need to get back to the motel.” He stuttered tiredly.

“I’m the reason you were out here for so long. Consider it a, um, token of my appreciation for talking to me,” Gabriel smiled sweetly.

(Y/N) returned the smile. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.”

“Let me take you back to the motel.”

“No. If Sam and Dean see you, they’ll kill you and then me.”

“Then I won’t let them see me.”

Without another word, Gabriel reached up and pressed his index and middle fingers against (Y/N)’s forehead. (Y/N) inhaled shakily and closed his eyes. One second, he was standing in the park, then, the next, he and Gabriel were standing in front of the Winchester’s motel room. He breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the faded numbers etched onto the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled and retrieved the key from his pocket.

“Anytime. And, uh, if you ever feel the need to talk again under better weather conditions, feel free to pray. When the prayers are sent directly to me, it’s a lot easier for me to hear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now go warm up.”

(Y/N) flashed Gabriel one last smile as he turned the key to the room and opened the door. Gabriel vanished.

Moonlight pooled in through the cracked door as (Y/N) crept into the room. He felt the warmth flood his face and hands as he entered. Despite the heavy jacket he had gone out with, having spent hours in the windy, misty park, he was bound to get cold eventually. He didn’t think he would get that cold, though.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Sam sleeping soundly on his stomach, face nuzzled against the cheap pillow, and Dean sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread in uncomfortable positions that he would undoubtedly complain about the next day, mouth slightly open, and drool coating his chin and pillow. (Y/N) was thankful for his stealth ability.

Slowly, he made his way over to the unoccupied bed and crawled underneath the covers. Not bothering to change his clothes or take off his shoes, he nestled into the thick - yet somehow extremely thin - comforter. His eyes closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*~*

That was the best night’s sleep he had gotten in ages.

Well, it would have been, had he not been awoken by a flying pillow to the face.

(Y/N) groaned as he opened his eyes ever so slightly. The sunlight beamed in through the window, caressing his skin, and he hated it. He glanced tiredly in the direction that the pillow came from and found Dean with an amused grin spread across his lips.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean greeted.

“Fuck off,” (Y/N) grunted as he grabbed the pillow and chucked it lazily back at him. He missed terribly.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Sam teased as he sat a cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand next to (Y/N).

“Thanks,” he mumbled and sat up. “And I just got a pillow thrown at my face, am I supposed to jump for joy and sing Kumbaya?”

“Are you sure it’s the pillow and has nothing to do with you getting back so late?” Dean quirked a brow.

(Y/N) went to reach for the coffee cup, but stopped himself. He glanced at Dean, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“Well, one, you’re wearing the exact same thing you were wearing yesterday, plus you wore your shoes to bed. Two, I heard you getting back last night,”

“Bullshit. You were passed out.”

“Do you realize how loud you stumbled in? I’m surprised Sammy didn’t wake up because of it. My third point, though,” Dean pointed down to his brother’s chest. “That’s not your jacket. So…did you get lucky?”

(Y/N) looked down at himself and his brows raised. He was still wearing Gabriel’s jacket. He had been so tired and cold last night that he had completely forgotten to take it off or even give it back. He reached up and played with the collar gently. He had to remember to thank Gabriel for giving it to him.

Oh, wait, prayers! Thank you for the jacket, Gabriel!

“Well?” Dean pressed.

“Huh?” (Y/N) looked over at him.

“Did you get lucky?”

(Y/N) snorted. “If I got lucky, do you think I would be here right now?”

“Not unless it was bad.”

“Would that mean I still got ‘lucky’ if it was bad? What kind of luck is that?”

“You’re dodging the question.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No, Dean, I didn’t get lucky.”

“Then who’d you meet?” Sam asked.

“Why does it matter?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Because you’re smiling,” Dean pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. “And you don’t smile like that normally. It’s kind of freaky.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dean,”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realized he had been smiling, but he could hear it in his voice. Dean was right, it had been ages since he had smiled like that. His cheeks were starting to hurt. He reached over, took a sip of his coffee, then put it down. He stood up from his spot on the bed and stretched his aching muscles.

“So,” Dean pursed his lips. “Who was it?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean popped.

(Y/N) shook his head. “It was just this guy that I met at the bar. He bought me a drink, we sat and talked and, when the bar closed, we went to the nearest park and continued our talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered and was replaced with a frown. “That’s it? You just…talked?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“You’re more boring than Sam,”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“What do you want me to say, Dean? ‘I found this guy at the bar, we went to the park, I gave him head, he gave me a twenty, said ‘no homo’, and walked away’?” (Y/N) asked.

“Well, that would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining than ‘we just talked’.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Whatever,” he mumbled, then kicked his shoes off.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. We’re gonna go look for that Wendigo.”

“I’m taking a shower before we go, so…” (Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam.

Sam smirked and shook his head as (Y/N) gathered some of his clothes from his duffel bag. Without another word, he vanished into the bathroom.

*~*

(Y/N) was sick for a week after that. As it turns out, cold air and wet hair don’t necessarily mix well. At first, he tried to push through it, but fatigue and a sore throat caught up to him and left him on research duty for the duration of the Wendigo hunt. During that time, whenever Sam and Dean were out looking for clues, leaving him alone in the stuffy motel room, he would pray to Gabriel. Gabriel would be quick to respond.

The two would sit and talk for hours, idle chit-chat here and there, and would always seem to dance around the topic of the fight one way or another. Those talks continued well after (Y/N) felt better and the Wendigo hunt concluded. (Y/N) resumed his nightly walks, and Gabriel would accompany him. In the mornings, when Sam and Dean would occasionally catch onto (Y/N)’s disappearing acts, he would play it off as a spontaneous trip to the local bar scene, fabricating stories about meeting a dreamy man he would talk to or go back to his place. It wasn’t a complete lie, so he didn’t feel as bad when he told them.

As the months went on, (Y/N) could feel himself growing fonder of Gabriel. It was a strong feeling. Is that what love felt like? He could only assume. Yet, the feeling was more than that. He felt connected to him in a much stronger sense of the word. A spiritual sense, perhaps? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause of those feelings, but the last thing he was going to do was fight himself on them, despite how obvious it was that his brothers would disapprove of his relationship with Gabriel. That’s what secrets were for. He had gone long enough without telling them, what’s a couple more months or years?

Whenever they were together, (Y/N) felt whole, as if a lost piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know he had found its way to him. When he was with his brothers, or by himself, he found his mind constantly shifting to thoughts of Gabriel. Of what they would talk about, of Gabriel’s smile, of the way his stomach would turn whenever they stood or sat close to one another. He would crave his presence, desperate to hear the sound of his voice. It was killing him, slowly, from the inside out, and he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he would combust. He had to tell Gabriel his feelings.

One thing he loved about small towns was the lack of artificial lights. Sure, there were dull street lamps scattered around that looked as if they needed to be changed years ago, but the absence of skyscrapers and people, overall, meant not much was needed to illuminate the roads. Locals knew them like the back of their hand anyway. With the minimal light, almost anywhere in town, you could see the stars that decorated the night sky. If you wanted, you could pick out each constellation. Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper were rather prominent that night.

There were several smaller parks in town, but the biggest sat in the middle of downtown. It wasn’t used as a children’s area as much as a casual gathering ground. (Y/N) could imagine dogs in the grass and elderly couples walking arm-in-arm during the daylight hours. By night, it was abandoned, the distant sound of country music playing from the only local bar. It was the perfect place for him and Gabriel to meet.

They sat on a bench in the middle of the park, heads tilted back as they stared at the stars. Their sides and legs were pressed together, and, for the first time in a while, they said nothing. Normally, their meetings were filled with lively conversation from the moment they saw each other to the moment they parted. (Y/N) had to wonder if Gabriel could tell that he wanted to have a serious discussion. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind. Or, perhaps, Gabriel was too busy reading (Y/N)’s to say anything. Regardless, they had been sat there for close to half an hour without as much as a single word to each other. (Y/N) knew just sitting there wasn’t going to do any good. He had to bite the bullet and say something.

“Gabriel?” He started, his voice coming out small and quiet.

Gabriel hummed. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Well, first of all, I just wanted to say that I like spending time with you.” He began to fiddle with his fingers. “And I don’t want what I’m about to ask to make our meetings stop.”

“Honestly, I think, at this point, the only thing that you can ask to make our meetings stop is ‘Hey, can our meetings stop?’.”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. “Gabe, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he smirked.

“Well, um…” he paused. “Do you ever feel like we’re connected in other ways?”

Gabriel furrowed his brows. He turned his body to face (Y/N), rested his elbow on the back of the bench, and placed his cheek into his hand. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, it feels like…more.”

Gabriel studied (Y/N)’s face, noticing his lack of eye contact. He stayed quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) could feel the anxiety building inside of him. He knew he did a piss poor job at explaining what he meant, but it was the best he could come up with. Slowly, Gabriel smirked.

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?” He teased.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and the heat rose to his cheeks. He glanced over at Gabriel, then back down at his lap.

“I, well…I’m not…I- that’s not the point, okay!?” (Y/N) shook his head. “The point is that it doesn’t feel like just a crush to me. It feels like an even deeper connection than that. Like something about our souls and- nevermind, this just sounds stupid,” his shoulders deflated in defeat.

Gabriel waved his hands and shook his head. “Hey, hey, it’s not stupid, alright? I get what you’re saying. You feel as if we’re connected by something other than you just being my vessel.”

(Y/N) nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I feel it, too.”

“You do?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gabriel folded his hands in his lap. “I felt that when we first saw each other, even before the warehouse. Then, everything with your brothers happened, and we met again, and, still, I felt that connection.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I was looking too hard into it. I started thinking that, maybe, the connection was all in my head. That it was, truly, just our connection by you being my vessel. When Dean said what he did about me being too afraid to face my family, I thought no one would understand my point of view on the fight. What I’ve had to go through being related to Michael and Lucifer. Then, you started to pray to me, and I knew that you understood me. That’s what made me come find you in the first place. Once we were alone, I felt this sense of…peace. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I can barely go a single day without wanting to see you. Without needing to see you. I knew it was more at that point.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were on Gabriel as he listened intently to what he was saying. He shook his head. “I feel the same way. It’s almost as if, I don’t know, I can’t breathe when you’re not around.”

“Well, please don’t stop on my account.”

“Stop it, we’re having a serious moment,” (Y/N) slapped his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gabriel smirked. “I mean, as cliche as it sounds, it feels, almost as if we were meant for each other, right? Like we were meant to be together? Almost as if it was more than you being my vessel that bought us together.”

Gabriel reached over and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, rubbing the side of it gently with his thumb. (Y/N) looked into Gabriel’s eyes, and he felt his heart soar. He reached up and caressed his cheek before they both leaned in, their lips fitting together perfectly in a sweet, loving kiss. Their eyes closed, and they both melted into a deep, sensual embrace. Almost immediately, all of the stress and worry seemingly melted away, replaced with a sense of belonging. A sense of closeness.

When they pulled back, they looked into each other’s eyes once more. A small smile creased the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“You’re right, it is pretty cheesy.” He whispered, his thumb tracing circles around Gabriel’s cheekbone.

Gabriel cocked a brow. “I thought we were having a serious conversation. Why do you get to make quips?”

“It’s kind of hard not to when I’m around you.” (Y/N) pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s.

Gabriel chuckled. “I guess I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?” He moved his hands to (Y/N)’s hips.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

They sat together and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of their embrace. (Y/N) never felt more relaxed in his entire life, and he wanted to savor every moment he had with Gabriel.

Then, his mind started to drift. Drift to the fight, the battle between Michael and Lucifer, and to Sam and Dean. Gabriel had done such a good job at keeping him distracted from all the chaos that surrounded him that he hadn’t even had a chance to consider what could happen with the fight now that he and Gabriel were involved. Neither of them wanted to participate in the fight, but what would happen if they didn’t? Who would win? Would he lose one, or possibly both, of his brothers? If they did get involved in the fight, was there a possibility that he and Gabriel would lose each other? Did they even stand a chance to win against Michael and Lucifer if things were to turn ugly? Was there a chance that he could lose Gabriel even without being in the fight itself?

Gabriel reached a hand up and ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair soothingly. He pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Your thoughts are being really loud, Sugarplum.” He whispered.

(Y/N) broke from his trance and shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…with the fight,” (Y/N) looked away briefly. “I don’t want to lose Sam and Dean, but now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look as he pulled him close. “I know. This whole thing is one giant mess. I wish none of it had to happen. But I’m going to be with you every step of the way, I promise.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You can’t promise me that. Knock on wood.”

“What?” Gabriel chuckled.

“I don’t want you to have just jinxed yourself, now knock on wood.”

Gabriel smirked as he rasped his knuckles against the wooden bench three times. “Better?”

“A little,” (Y/N) mumbled and nuzzled his cheek against Gabriel’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll feel better until this fight is over.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around him. “How about this? I promise to do everything in my power to keep you distracted. That way, you’re not too stressed out.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Not too distracted, though. I had practically forgotten about the fight until now, and I still need to stay on my toes.”

“How about I distract you just enough to keep your mind off of it?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Well then, Sugarplum, how do you propose I keep you distracted?”

“You can start by kissing me again,”

“Oh, I can do more than kissing,” Gabriel mused in a suggestive tone and wiggled his brows.

(Y/N) slapped his chest. “Perv,” he grumbled. “Let’s just start with kissing.”

“Taking it slow, I like your style,” Gabriel nuzzled his nose against (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) smiled widely. “Then shut up and kiss me already.”

Without another word, Gabriel leaned down, capturing (Y/N)’s lips in a deep kiss. Just like that, all of his problems dissipated, and it felt as if he was floating. The park didn’t exist anymore, nor the stumbling locals who left the bar periodically. There were no stars, no more beautiful night sky. The only two things that existed were Gabriel and (Y/N). They were complete. They were strong. They were one. It felt as if nothing in Heaven, Hell, or in between could tear them apart.

And everything was as it should be.

14 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 2 days

Note

Hey!! I was hoping you would be able to do this request.

It could feature hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff :)

Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

He could be trans or cis, up to you.

(something along those lines atleast)

Your story will be posted tonight, hun! Probably within the next couple of hours! Proofreading this story is a pain in the ass

#supernatural scribe #ask

4 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 16 days

Text

Hidden Bruises

Words: 7,546

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, PTSD, Mention of past Rape, Trauma, Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mention of Character Death, Azazel

Summary: After the death of their father, Sam and Dean's older brother went missing for a couple of weeks. Eventually, he returned, and everything seemed to go back to normal. When the brothers follow a lead that takes them to an abandoned schoolhouse, Sam and Dean come face to face with the reality of what happened to their brother when he went missing.

Request:

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the Winchester's (John/Dean/Sam) x Older brother finding out the Azaseal (yellow eye demon) s/a him and he's been keeping it secret intill they run into Azaseal and he gloats about what he did. (If you don't feel comfortable using yellow eyes that just some strong random demon is fine)

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I'm not dead! Just stressed! These past several months have been horrible, but I'm happy to say I'm back in the groove of writing! This request has been long overdue and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get it out, I did not forget everyone who sent in a request! I hope you enjoy the story! Do NOT read if any of the warnings are triggering to you. Keep yourself healthy, keep yourself safe. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Dude, are you sure you’re taking me down the right road?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror occasionally.

“I’m sure.” (Y/N) confirmed, gaze focused on Google Maps, which he had cued up for the last thirty minutes of their drive.

“We’ve been driving the backroads for ages. Never thought an old schoolhouse could be this deep in the countryside.”

“A lot of people settled here at some point, Dean,” Sam said with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Sam’s right. According to local history, the first group of settlers that arrived built make-shift houses deeper in the woodland areas for better hunting and fishing grounds. To accommodate, they built a schoolhouse in the middle of the settlements so all the kids would be able to make it to school a little easier. Once the years passed and all the people started moving away to start the nearby town, the schoolhouse was practically abandoned. There wasn’t any need for it anymore.”

“Look at you doing your research,” Dean teased with a smirk.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “More than you, asshole,” he mumbled. “Oh! There should be a small clearing up here to your left. Go ahead and turn in there, but we’re going to need to walk the rest of the way,”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, grow up, Dean.”

“Says the one sitting in the middle of the backseat.”

“You’re so lucky I love this car as much as you do, otherwise I’d make you drive her into a tree.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, baby brother,”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam waved his hands, cutting them off. “As much as I like seeing you two go at it, now’s not the time.”

Both Dean and (Y/N) opened their mouths to object but stopped themselves. They each grumbled something incoherent under their breath. Dean returned to the road and (Y/N) looked down at his phone.

“Are you going to turn here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled.

Dean slowly turned the wheel and edged the Impala onto the beginning of a dirt path. A couple of feet ahead of the car, the path narrowed and was overgrown by trees. Even if the Impala would have been smaller, there was no possible way it would be able to fit down the path. It appeared to be more the size of a hiking or bike trail. Once the car was settled, Dean turned the engine off, the heavy purr dying to a low hum as the heat dissipated. The headlights stayed on for a couple of seconds before going out.

“Let’s rock ‘n roll,” Dean grunted as he stepped out of the car.

Sam and (Y/N) soon followed after, the three of them heading to the back of the car. Dean popped the trunk and lifted the cover, revealing their large array of weapons. Each of them took their respective weapons and sheathed them before the trunk was closed with a heavy bang that echoed throughout the trees.

“Could you be any louder? We don’t know how close the schoolhouse is from here.” (Y/N) grumbled.

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled.

“Guys,” Sam sighed.

(Y/N) held up his hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he turned away from his brothers and began to make his way towards the dirt path.

“You sure it’s down this way?” Sam asked, following after him.

“Yeah, that is, if we assume the coordinates are accurate.”

“And you’re sure you can trust Google with that?” Dean asked.

“Same as we trust any other research material. All I know is that it should be in some type of field.”

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer.

They began to make their way down the dark, dirt path, towards the canopy of trees, bent after years of surviving thunderstorm after thunderstorm. As they approached the trees, they pulled their flashlights out, illuminating the path ahead. The treetops were thick and heavy, the moonlight disappearing when they passed the entrance to the woods.

Thirty minutes filled with dodging bulging tree roots and low tree branches, accompanied by some complaints from Dean about how far they had walked, moonbeams became visible through the upcoming branches. (Y/N) held up his hand, and turned off his light, before he walked towards the clearing. Sam and Dean followed suit, killing the light.

Past the wall of tree branches, a field became visible. Sat in the middle, about twenty feet away from the group, was an old, dilapidated building. The building sat in front of them, tall and menacing, as if a dark aura circled the decaying brick exterior. It stood three stories tall, some windows broken, and glass surrounding the foundation. The steps out front were cracked with some concrete pieces scattered about near the bottom. The bold lettering that rested right above the front doors was faded, some letters almost invisible, but it was clear that it was supposed to read out the name of the school. (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder how the interior of the building looked compared to the outside.

One thing that struck the group as odd, however, was the fact that some of the windows were filled with warm lights, indicating power had been added to the ancient building. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized a small hum was disrupting the evening crickets in their peaceful song. (Y/N) raised his hand, halting their movements. They got down low, the only cover they had being the overgrown grass that engulfed their bodies.

“They’re using a generator.” (Y/N)’s voice was low and deep.

Sam sighed. “And it looks like there’s only one entrance. I wouldn’t trust those windows either. No one knows how long it’s been since they’ve been opened.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s gotta be against fire code to have one doorway.” He mumbled.

“The fire code came around in the 1600s, but I highly doubt these settlers cared about it.” (Y/N) muttered. “I’m going to sneak towards the generator and turn it off. You two keep an eye out to see if there’s any movement inside. We can go in then,”

“Got it,” they said in unison.

(Y/N) gave a brief nod before he headed towards the building, keeping low in case of peering eyes from the windows. Rounding the side of the building, the humming became almost deafening. A dull light illuminated a small patch of grass on the other side of the school. With his eyes glued to the light, (Y/N) swiftly made his way around and to the back. The generator sat against the foundation, rumbling loudly and shaking the earth around it. He grabbed his flashlight from his waistband and shone it on the generator, furrowing his brows as he looked for a way to stop it. Finally, he saw the power switch, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, and switched it off.

The power died immediately, the once bright school house going dark in an instant. (Y/N) knew he had to be quick. He made his way back towards the front. Sam and Dean stood at the base of the steps, their weapons drawn. (Y/N) drew his before he joined his brothers.

“Alright, let’s gank these sons of bitches,” he mumbled, taking the lead as they entered the school.

It was a lot darker inside than they originally thought it would be. Despite the massive windows in each room, the decades' worth of dust covered the natural moonlight, engulfing them in darkness. They brought out their flashlights, illuminating the entranceway. Their dim lights skimmed over the walls and floors, taking it in as they took careful steps deeper into the school.

The interior of the school was just as damaged as the exterior. No longer was it a place of learning, but a place filled with debris and graffiti. Artwork and random words riddled the walls in different colored spray paints and many wooden panels lined the floor that were covered in a ripped-up, faded green carpet. The three of them took their time navigating through the mess that was near the front door to get to the main hall. A room was located to the left, which would appear to be the location of the office and the home of the principal when the school was in operation.

A couple of feet away from the front door, there was an archway that led down a narrow hallway as well as a staircase to the right. The halls were a little more clean compared to the entrance. All of the debris was pushed to one side or the other, making it a little easier to navigate through. (Y/N) turned to his brothers and gestured down the hall.

“You two take this hall and I’ll check upstairs,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet booming in the dead silence that surrounded them.

Dean furrowed his brows. “What? No.” Dean protested, his voice at the same level as (Y/N)’s had been. “We stick together.”

“There shouldn’t be too many in here. I’ll be fine on my own. You two stick together, and shout if you need help.”

“But-”

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s tone was low. “I’m not arguing about this.”

Dean shared a glance with Sam before he shook his head in disapproval and began to make his way down the hallway. (Y/N) watched them for a couple of seconds before he turned. He stalked towards the narrow staircase, caged in by cracked and deteriorating walls. Other than the small amount of concrete or wood that was scattered around on the stairs that he had to avoid, they were rather clear compared to the entrance. Gingerly, he placed his hand on top of the railing, an old wooden rod that had paint and wood chipped away at it. He used it as a guide as he made his way up and to the second floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, despite his careful steps.

While he walked, he concentrated heavily on his sense of hearing. With his sight limited, he was relying exclusively on his ears to tell him if anyone, or anything, was near. When he reached the landing, he shone his flashlight down a hall that looked identical to the one Sam and Dean had wandered down.

The second floor was in the same state as the first floor with scattered debris on either one side or the other of the walkway. Doors lined the walls, some fully opened, and some cracked ever so slightly. One by one, he took a step into every room, shining his light around all four corners. He whispered a quiet ‘clear’ following each empty room he examined.

All of the rooms were dimly lit with the mixture of (Y/N)’s flashlight and the faded moonbeams begging to go through the dusty windows. Chairs and desks were strewed about, some toppled over, while others rested in, presumably, the same spot they did all those years ago. Those tables and chairs were unknowingly preserving the history of the once-active school.

It was quiet. Too quiet. A part of (Y/N) wanted to believe that the intel they received might have been wrong, that no demons were haunting the very halls he walked, but the generator out back told no lies. Squatters wouldn’t waste what little money they had on luxuries such as that, nor would they put forth the time and the effort to wire the entire building. The other part of him, the logical side, told him that the demons were good. Sneaky. They knew how to hide and they did it well. He had to be even more focused than he already had been.

He hoped Sam and Dean were doing okay.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to split up.

(Y/N) got to the last room, on the left side of the hallway. He noted that it was the only door that had been shut, making sure to be extra cautious as he reached a hand forward, grasping the splintered doorknob. As he opened the door, the aged hinges creaked, the sound echoing down the hallway, breaking the uneasy silence. The room was noticeably darker than the rest, not an ounce of moonlight visible. (Y/N) raised his light and shone it around the room. He took a couple of steps inside, broken glass crackling underneath his boots. When he shined his light on the window, he noticed that it had been completely boarded up, the remnants of a black trash bag that had once covered it hanging from nails lazily placed along the window sill.

Just as he got to the center of the room, the door hinges creaked again, loud and eerie. (Y/N) was quick to turn around, but he was only able to catch the final seconds before the door closed. His breathing stopped, heart racing inside of his chest. He listened, closely, but he heard nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing.

“Guess who,” A deep, scratchy, all too familiar voice spoke.

The same voice that plagued his mind and haunted his dreams.

He froze.

Like a deer in headlights.

Then, his world went black.

*~*

The harsh light wasn’t good for his pounding head. A throaty moan slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as he awoke, vision blurry and eyes watery. He slowly lifted his head, groaning at the noticeable crick in his neck. He could feel that he was slouched in a chair, his back was aching from the posture, but he felt too nauseous and weak to fix it. When his vision cleared, he was able to take in some of the details of the room he was in. It was obvious that the room used to be one of the many classrooms, desks and chairs were pushed to one side of the room, stacked up to the point where they could topple at any moment. A single window stood across the way, the bottom half completely shattered with a puddle of broken shards resting beneath. The chill night air whistled and caressed his face. To his right were two massive floodlights, shining down on him. To his left, were Sam and Dean, bound to chairs the same as he was.

Sam and Dean.

(Y/N) quickly sat up, despite the throbbing in his head. In an attempt to move his arms, he could feel how tight the ropes were around his wrists and forearms. The demons were skilled, it seemed.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Dean grumbled, his speech coming out slurred.

He has a concussion.

“What the Hell happened?” (Y/N) hissed.

“They came out of nowhere,” Sam mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, looking as if he was experiencing the same pain as (Y/N).

“There were too many of them.” Dean finished.

(Y/N) cursed under his breath as he tried to wiggle his arms out of the binds, but it was all to no avail. He was used to being held captive by people who didn’t know how to tie a knot, but the way he was tied up was rather intricate. He wasn’t too sure he would be able to break out of it.

“How many did you guys run into?”

“I don’t know, man,” Dean answered. “A dozen, maybe more. You?”

(Y/N) stopped moving, his eyes cast down to the floor. “Just one,”

“One? You got taken out by a single demon?”

“It was dark,” (Y/N) defended himself with a growl. “I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything. It was silent.”

Don’t think about his voice. Don’t think about his voice.

“Still, to be taken out by one demon, geez,” Dean mumbled.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you! I’m trying to get us out of here!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” a sweet, sultry, female voice echoed in the room. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” a demon came from behind them, a wide smile on her lips.

She walked behind (Y/N), grabbed the knots connected to his wrists and arms, and tugged at them.

“Did these myself,” she spoke proudly. “Wasn’t too difficult, really. Just seems as if people aren’t willing to teach themselves anything useful anymore,” she pursed her lips, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

(Y/N) snarled as the frayed ropes rubbed against his skin, scratching the surface. “If you’re done boosting your ego for five minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you let us go.” He spoke between clenched teeth.

The demon let out a boisterous laugh as she walked around the chair to stand in front of him. “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “The Winchesters practically fall into our lap, and you think we’re going to let you go? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Now, what would my boss think of me if I did that?”

“And who, exactly, is your boss?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you know him. Quite well, actually. He’s so excited to see you all again.” She walked over to (Y/N), the back of her hand brushing against his cheek gingerly. “Especially you.” Her voice was low, menacing.

With that, the demon left, the click of the doorknob filling the silence. (Y/N) was tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Gooseflesh littered his arms, the hairs standing up. The panic began to set in.

Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. HAVE TO GET OUT.

“We have to go.” (Y/N) said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky.

(Y/N) began to frantically pull at the ropes, only resulting in them tightening around his arms. His muscles strained, shoulders shifting. Sam and Dean both tried to wiggle out of their confinements. Sam’s movements were slower and more thoughtful than his brothers’.

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Sam leaned his head close to (Y/N), voice hushed.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get the fuck out of here.” (Y/N)’s voice was louder than it normally would have been, the anxiety flooding his words.

Sam and Dean shared a look of concern but decided to say nothing. They had never seen their brother so frazzled. Dare they say, scared? If there was one thing that (Y/N) never experienced when he was on hunts, it was fear. (Y/N) was always the one who kept a calm and collected attitude, barked orders, kept victims quiet during stressful situations, and he was the one Sam and Dean always fell back on. It was as if the brother they were bound next to wasn’t the same person.

They all worked on getting the ropes off of them. Sam and Dean weren’t struggling as much as (Y/N) seemed to, who, at first glance, one would assume had never gotten out of binds before. That was far from the truth. He was, normally, the first one to get out of the ropes, as if he was an escape artist in a previous life. It was rather evident that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sam and Dean, however, didn’t have the slightest clue.

Have to get out. Have to get out.

CLICK

The door opened, and (Y/N) froze. He was sure his heart stopped as well. Every muscle felt as if they were tying themselves together in intricate knots. The creaking hinges seemed louder than before, almost as if they were teasing him. Laughing at his pain. Mocking him. Or, perhaps, they were warning him.

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

“Well, well, well…” The voice spoke, amusement evident.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold. In situations like that, when faced with immediate danger, our brain turns to one of three options; fight, flight, or freeze. You can defend yourself, run away, or accept your fate. Being tied to the chair didn’t give (Y/N) the chance for flight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in his body. So, he sat there, frozen, eyes wide with fear. The last time he was filled with that much fear was when he last encountered the demon. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been that long ago.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. He knew that touch all too well. It felt as if fire was spreading from the hand, down his torso, and through the rest of his body.

Azazel turned to stand in front of the three Winchesters, his deep, yellow eyes lingering over (Y/N)’s body. Sam and Dean tensed, their jaws clenched, noses scrunched as they stared down the demon.

“Yellow eyes,” Dean said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, come on, Dean, you know I’m much more than just my eyes,” Azazel smirked. “You know, me and my demons were having a fairly good night. Got a lot planned for you, Sammy. Of course, the plan has some kinks to work through, but what plan doesn’t? A peaceful night, nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when the lights turned off. Not only that, but imagine my surprise when I hear who turned it off.”

Azazel’s eyes scanned over the brothers, but they always wandered back to (Y/N). Each time they did, it felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut.

“You know,” Azazel continued. “I can’t thank you enough for showing up unannounced. I mean, that’s one less child I need to find,” he gestured to Sam. “Not only that,” Azazel turned to (Y/N), stalking over toward him at an agonizing pace. “But you brought my favorite little plaything.”

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.

When Azazel placed his calloused hand on (Y/N)’s jaw, fingers trailing down to his chin, (Y/N) was faced with the brutal reality that everything was real. (Y/N) hadn’t realized how much he had been shaking until Azazel let out a deep laugh.

“Still scared?” He teased, his tongue poking through his eerie grin.

“Leave him alone,” Sam growled. “It’s me you want.”

“Correction, Sam, I want both of you.”

“Why? What is he to you!?”

Azazel looked at Sam, then Dean, then back at Sam. His brows raised as a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh,” he cooed, tilting his head to the side as he bent down in front of (Y/N), their noses almost touching. “You never told them, did you.”

“Told us what?” Dean questioned. “(Y/N), what the Hell is he talking about!?”

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. He felt as if there were cobwebs in his throat, his lips and mouth dry, and no part of his body wanted to function. Azazel stared into his eyes. Correction: Azazel stared into his soul. The soul that he had left was damaged. Oh, did that fact fill the demon with pride. Azazel’s lips curled up at the corner of his mouth as he stood up straight. He sauntered over so he was standing in front of Sam and Dean.

“Months ago…” Azazel began. “After your dear old Daddy passed, your brother decided to go on a little manhunt, all on his own.”

Sam and Dean turned their gaze to (Y/N). Sam’s eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, while Dean’s expression could only be described as pure anger. Their minds immediately drifted to the worst possible outcome from that hunt. Their first thought drifted to him selling his soul. Making a deal with Azazel. While that seemed like a possibility, it didn’t make sense, as Azazel still spoke as if he had plans for Sam. What could (Y/N) have done?

Azazel began to make his way back over to (Y/N), his back straight, his posture intimidating. “After a couple of pathetic weeks of trying to find me, he was finally able to catch up to me.” Azazel stood in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath fanning over (Y/N)’s face. “Do you want to tell them all of the gory details? Or should I?”

(Y/N)’s breath quickened, chest noticeably rising and falling at a rapid pace. The panic became evident on his face. Azazel reached a hand up and let it rest on (Y/N)’s knee.

“Do you want to tell them how you quivered under my touch? How you were shaking and sobbing? How you were crying for them to save you?”

As he talked, his hand trailed further and further up his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. (Y/N)’s body began to convulse, eyes bulging from their sockets. Whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tried desperately to wiggle away from his touch.

Have to get away. Have to get away. Get away. GET AWAY.

“Hey!” Sam shouted.

“Get away from him!” Dean exclaimed.

“Tell me,” Azazel continued, ignoring Sam and Dean’s loud protests, his attention solely focused on (Y/N). “Do you still hear my voice as you drift off to sleep at night? Do you still feel my fingers digging into your hips? Do you still feel my cock inside that tight little hole of yours?” He grunted as he gripped (Y/N)’s penis through his jeans tightly.

“No! Please!” (Y/N) screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, painting his face with their wetness. He desperately attempted to get away, not caring that the ropes dug into his flesh, rubbing it raw. His sobs echoed off the walls.

“That’s right,” Azazel grinned wickedly, teeth and jaw clenched. Somehow, his quiet voice was the only thing (Y/N) could hear. Not the hum of the floodlights, not his brothers’ angry shouts, just Azazel. “Cry, my little pet.”

“You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I will fucking kill you!” Dean screamed to the point of almost instantly becoming hoarse.

“Oh, I hear you boys loud and clear.” Azazel pulled his hand away from (Y/N). “And I must say, it’s getting rather irritating. I might just have to take my pet somewhere else to play.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sam snarled.

“Well, not now. I’ve worked him up a little too much for me to have a good time playing with him.” He glanced at (Y/N), licking his lips predatorily. “It won’t be any fun making him scream now. Don’t want him to lose his voice too soon. Besides, you two made a mess of one of our rooms, and I need to make sure that everything necessary is accounted for.”

Azazel continued to stare at (Y/N), obvious amusement etched on his face. The tears continued to fall, but he was silent. His bottom lip wobbled. By the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, it was evident he was holding back cries he desperately wanted to let out. Azazel grabbed him tightly by the jaw, tilted his head up, and planted a rough, bruising kiss on his lips. Before Sam and Dean could resume their shouting, he pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon, little pet.” He purred, fingers trailing over his wet cheeks before he stalked out of the room, not even giving Sam and Dean a second glance.

Click

Creak

Slam

Silence

The three of them sat there and said nothing. (Y/N) stared off towards the window, head moving from side to side ever so slightly. His brain was foggy and dizzy from the overstimulation. Dean’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. His eyes glimmered with a murderous rage. He stared at his older brother - his broken older brother - before turning his attention over to Sam. Sam shared the same look of anger as he did.

What no one had been aware of was that, while the chaos with Azazel unfolded, Sam had been working on the ropes around his arms. A couple of silent seconds after they were left alone in the room, Sam let out a grunt and pulled his arms apart. The ropes fell onto the floor with a light thud. With determination in his eyes, Sam turned and untied (Y/N) first before going over to Dean. Once Dean was free, he stood, stretched his neck muscles, and then turned for the door, eyes flooded with blind rage. Sam was quick to grab him by the upper arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered.

“I’m going after that son of a bitch, Sam, what do you think I’m doing?” Dean retorted.

“We can’t. There are too many of them, and we don’t have our weapons anymore.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Dean pulled his arm from Sam’s grasp and turned to leave, but was quickly grabbed by Sam once more. “Let go, Sam.”

“Dean, I want the bastard dead just as much as you do, even more now, but we’re outnumbered. Plus, (Y/N) needs us.”

Hearing his brother’s name snapped him out of the trance he was in. Dean snapped his head around towards (Y/N), who was still sitting in the chair.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, quickly making his way over to him. Sam followed.

Once they were in front of (Y/N), they could see just how much he was affected. His arms hung at his side lamely, his gaze still set towards the window. They were empty, devoid of any emotion. His cheeks were still stained, and his lips were slightly parted. They had started to swell.

“Hey, hey, (Y/N),” Dean reached up and cupped his face, turning his head so he would look at him. “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. He’s not here anymore, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand up?”

Silence.

Dean slowly nodded. “Alright, Sam, you get that window open and we’ll get out of here. I’ll grab him.”

Sam moved over to the window, scraping some of the broken glass away from it. He glanced out the window and let out a breath of relief when he saw they were on the first floor. He grabbed the top of the window, lifting it, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath and took a deep breath as he hoisted the window open with all of his strength. The bottom half of the window slammed upwards, causing the wall to shake. He raised his brows and turned to Dean, gesturing him over quickly.

Dean reached under (Y/N)’s legs and picked him up bridal style. He held him tight and close to his chest as he swiftly made his way over to the window. Sam was the first one to climb out, hissing as the splinters from the window sill embedded themselves into his hands. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned back to the window.

“Pass him through,” he held his arms out.

Dean glanced behind him at the door before he helped Sam get (Y/N) through the window. Once (Y/N) was through, Sam cradled him in his arms just as Dean had. Dean moved even faster to get out of the window. When they were outside, they could see, in the distance, the familiar sight of the sun peeking out past the horizon. They shared a glance, examined their surroundings, and then rushed back towards the tall trees at the edge of the field.

They ran at Mach speed through the forest, hopping over roots and dodging protruding branches. Now and then, Sam would look down at his brother, still held tight to his chest, but the same, vacant expression was always present on his face. Sam was, admittedly, worried for him. He had never seen (Y/N) in such a vulnerable state. He was always the level-headed one, so put together. He was the one that Sam and Dean leaned on in times of trouble, the one that picked them up when they were down, the one to jump to their aid when they needed him the most without any hesitation.

And here he was, carrying him in his arms, the broken shell of his oldest brother. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined this scenario. To him, it was always supposed to be the other way around, as it had been on multiple occasions. He felt so heavy, but, at the same time, light as a feather, as if Sam could carry him for hundreds of miles if he had to. He would in a heartbeat.

By the time they reached the edge of the wood, the sky had turned a brilliant pinkish-orange, and mourning doves began to sing their elegant tune. Dean broke out into a wide grin as Baby came into view.

“Oh, Baby, I am never leaving you again,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over her hood.

“Dean? Keys?” Sam raised his brows.

Dean slowly frowned. He patted his jean pockets, then his coat pockets. He grumbled, unzipped his coat, and reached inside. After seconds of searching, he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled the keys out of an inner pocket.

“Thank God for inside pockets.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get the door opened.”

“Right, right…”

Dean unlocked the car before he rounded the corner to the back passenger’s side. He opened the door.

“How is he?” He asked.

Sam took a moment to look down at (Y/N). He was so focused on getting them as far away from the school as possible, that he didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep. Sam felt relief wash over him, glad that his brother didn’t have to experience any more of those negative thoughts he must’ve had. At least, not at that moment. Carefully, Sam navigated his way to the backseat, laying (Y/N) on his side. He made sure not to wake him. With everything he had gone through and all the emotions that had seemingly piled onto him all at once, he wasn’t sure how easy (Y/N) would be to wake up. He must have been exhausted.

“He’s fine, at least, for now,” Sam mumbled.

Once (Y/N) was situated in the backseat, Sam stretched, not having realized the strain he had received from carrying him for so long. He closed the door as quietly as he could and took his spot in the passenger’s seat. Dean walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He was quick to start the car, the rumble of the engine sending vibrations through the seats. Dean pulled off the dirt road and did a U-Turn, heading back into town.

The first five minutes of the ride were silent. Not even the radio dared speak up. Sam and Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, both of them taking turns to occasionally look back at (Y/N).

Dean was the first one to speak.

“We need to get the Hell out of Dodge.” He said.

Sam nodded. “You’re right. If Yellow Eyes is this close, he’ll waste no time trying to find us. I can go in, pack all of our stuff, and check us out. Then, I say we drive as far away as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Another deep silence. Dean was the first one to speak again.

“How come he never told us?”

Sam hesitated for a moment, considering the question himself. He tried to look at it from a personal standpoint. Why didn’t he tell them? They’re family. They tell each other everything. But do they? He tried to look at it from a logical standpoint.

It was one thing the Winchesters were notorious for; their lack of communication when it comes to their emotions. It was preached to them when they were younger, that emotions were the reason hunters got killed. You had to go in, get the job done, and don’t let it get to you. Then again, a vast majority of hunters are alcoholics, so what does that say about them? They are human, after all.

What happens when something serious occurs? Something so traumatic that they lose themselves at the first sight of the enemy? That was something neither the hunting life nor their father had prepared them for. At that point, they were lost.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, you saw the way he acted when Yellow Eyes walked in.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, nor what he went through. I mean, if something like that happened to you, would you tell us?”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He clenched onto the steering wheel. “No,” he mumbled.

“Exactly, I mean…” he trailed. “This is fucked up.”

“Yeah, extremely fucked up. You have no idea how hard it is for me to drive away. I wanna go back there and kill him so bad.” Dean spoke between clenched teeth, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Trust me, Dean, I get it.” Sam nodded. “But right now, we should focus on (Y/N). He needs us right now, more than anything.”

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror at his older brother’s sleeping form. On that day, he vowed that he would kill Azazel with his own two hands.

*~*

His vision was fading, black spots decorating his peripherals. Any sound had been replaced with a low buzz. His breathing was staggered and labored. Every inch of his body was on fire as if he was being burned from the inside out. The only relief he felt was the cool concrete that was pressed against his cheek. It felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t move.

Suddenly, the pain shot through his body like a bullet, his muscles and nerves tensing. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Azazel growled from above him.

(Y/N)’s fear-filled eyes shot towards the sound of his voice. Azazel’s deep, yellow eyes stared into him intently, filled with rage, lust, and desire. (Y/N) tried to scream louder, but, still, no sound came out.

“Sam! Dean! Help me, please!” He mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face.

“Look at you trying to call out for your brothers. Well, I hate to break it to you, little pet, but they aren’t here, and they’ll never find you if I can help it.”

Azazel caressed his cheek before grabbing his hair roughly, yanking his head back. In a flash, a cool, sharp black was pressed against his neck.

“Now, be a good boy and take it.”

The pain intensified, lightning shooting through his veins.

Take it.

Please.

Take it.

Someone.

Take it!

Help me.

TAKE IT

*~*

(Y/N) gasped as he jolted upright, eyes wide and alert. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his pants. In an instant, Sam and Dean were by his side. Dean stood next to the bed while Sam sat next to him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam spoke in a soothing voice, hesitantly reaching toward him. “You’re safe, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) jerked away from his touch, and Sam was quick to pull back. As (Y/N) attempted to gather himself, he looked around the room. They were in a motel room, although it was different than the one (Y/N) remembered being in. What did he remember? The last thing he could recall was the look on Azazel’s face as he smirked down at him, the look in those deep, demonic eyes. Those damned eyes. He didn’t remember leaving the school, nor did he remember their journey to another motel room.

“Where are we?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Chattanooga,” Dean replied. “A couple hours south of where we were.”

(Y/N) nodded in acknowledgment. Then it was silent. No one said anything, the only sound filling the room was the electricity coursing through the air from the outdated box TV sat on the dresser. (Y/N)’s gaze was cast down towards the discolored comforter while Sam and Dean shared a glance as if silently urging one another to say something. Finally, it was Sam who spoke up.

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we-”

“He was right,” (Y/N) interrupted.

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned their attention back to their older brother. Dean sat down on the bed opposite (Y/N), and leaned forward, hands folded.

“Everything he said was true.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

“So, after dad died…” Sam trailed.

“When I went AWOL? Yeah. I, uh, I had found where he was. Didn’t take that long, at least, not as long as I thought it was going to take. I was so set on killing him that I didn’t take into account the fact that there might be other demons with him. It was like I was…blind by rage…” (Y/N) lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs. “I was captured pretty easily, I hate to admit. Then, he came in…you know the rest.”

(Y/N) was unaware of the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. He refused to look at his brothers. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be disappointed? Disgusted? Betrayed? He didn’t think he could handle what they thought about him at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked softly.

(Y/N) glanced up at them, brows furrowed with a look of confusion. Sam and Dean’s expressions conveyed a feeling of sadness. Of hurt. (Y/N) clenched his hands into weak fists and looked down.

“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you guys, not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the strong one. How would you think of me knowing your big brother couldn’t even stop himself from getting raped?” (Y/N)’s voice broke, tears flowing more freely.

Sam and Dean watched (Y/N) hug himself tightly. Slowly, they began to make their way onto the bed, not wanting to startle him in such a fragile state. With Sam on one side and Dean on the other, they wrapped their arms loosely and gently around his shaking frame.

“(Y/N), I hope you know that we don’t think any less of you because of this,” Sam said.

“Yeah, this isn’t your fault,” Dean agreed.

(Y/N) shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have gone after him…” he sobbed.

Dean shushed him, reaching a hand up to gently caress his head. (Y/N) stopped what he was saying and just leaned against his brothers. The Winchesters were never good with comfort. Get over it, they were always told. Stop being so sensitive. Real men don’t cry, type of narrative. They all just sat there in silence, sobs continuing to fall from (Y/N)’s lips.

He was always so scared about the way his brothers would react. He decided to take a page out of John Winchester’s book of dealing with his emotions. Bottle it up and everything would be okay, which was completely false. That much was evident back at the schoolhouse. (Y/N) wasn’t okay. Hell, that had been the first moment he had verbally admitted that he had been raped, and it hurt.

Even though he felt a small sense of security in the arms of his brothers, he still didn’t feel safe. Knowing Azazel, his rapist, was still roaming the world in search of them always kept him on edge. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel peace unless he witnessed, firsthand, the life drain from those yellow eyes of his. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke the dead silence.

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes red, but slowly drying. Dean gazed down at him with a look of determination on his face.

“We got this, okay? As long as you’re with us, we won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve been our big brother and protected us our whole lives. Now it’s our turn to protect you.”

(Y/N) took a moment to look at Dean, then looked over at Sam. He gave a small, brief nod as he pulled them closer for a tighter embrace.

“Thank you,” he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sam shook his head. “You would do the same for us.”

(Y/N) nodded.

“And if there’s one thing I can promise you, (Y/N), it’s that the next time I see that slimy bastard, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes,” Dean growled, holding his brother close.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but give a small smile, because, while the Winchesters weren’t good at comfort or expressing their griefs with one another, there was one thing that made them stand out amongst everyone else;

When they promised to kill something, nothing on God’s green Earth could get in their way.

44 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 5 months

Text

In Plain Sight

Words: 6,968

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, fear of rejection, brothers keeping secrets, Dean being a teasing asshole as always, Supportive family, The Reader's boyfriend is a total himbo

Summary: The reader has been keeping a secret from his brothers his entire life. The reader is gay, and it was something that he had always kept from Sam and Dean in fear of their reaction. What happens when Sam and Dean stumble upon a moment between the reader and his boyfriend? How will they react?

Request:

Hi! Don’t know if your doing requests or not, BUT if you are can you do one where Dean and Sam have an Older brother who is gay and has a boyfriend but hides it because he doesn’t think that Sam and Dean would approve that he like guys and has a boyfriend, and one night where Sam and Dean go out on a hunt and their supposed to be gone for a week but come back early and find their older brother with his boyfriend passed out on the couch with a movie playing

@hpxmcusworld

A/N: Words cannot even begin to describe how sorry I am for taking over a month to get this out. So much has been going on in my life, specifically at work. I could write a twelve-book series about all the drama that has been going on at work. You guys can't even BEGIN to imagine, especially everything that has been happening in the last week. I mean, it's baffling. Regardless, here's the story, finally! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this!

~ Much love!

(Y/N) laid on the couch in the Men of Letters bunker. A blanket was draped over his body loosely, and the corner of the fabric lay limply on the floor. A box of Kleenex sat on the floor next to the sofa, crumpled-up tissues tossed here and there in a small waste bin placed next to (Y/N)’s head. There was some cheesy medical drama show playing in the background on the television that he was barely paying attention to.

As the show went to commercial break, the sound of a pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the open door. (Y/N) glanced up as Sam and Dean appeared in the doorway, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Dean peered in and eyed him.

“Hey, man, how’re you feeling?” He asked.

(Y/N) cleared his throat and brought the blanket further up his body, placing it directly under his chin. “Still feel kinda shitty,” he replied, his voice low and scratchy.

“That sucks,” Dean shook his head. “I’m surprised Sammy and I haven’t got anything from you, yet,”

“Honestly, me too,”

“Are you sure you’re okay with staying here while we go on the hunt?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, it’s a simple salt ‘n burn. At least that’s what Garth says. You guys will be alright.”

They both nodded. “Well, we’ll call you when we get there.” Dean gave a brief wave.

(Y/N) smiled softly. “Alright, see you guys later,” he waved at them.

“See ya’.” They spoke in unison as they walked out of the room.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the television, but didn’t listen to the line delivery. Rather, he listened to their steps. He listened as they slowly faded in the distance, followed by the heavy sound of the bunker door opening and closing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiety and anticipation. Even with how far he was from the garage, he could still hear the roar of the Impala’s engine. He waited as it gradually softened before disappearing from the vicinity.

When all he could hear was the sound from the medical drama, he broke out into a smile and threw the blanket off of his body, sitting up quicker than he ever had before. He rapidly took out his phone from his pocket and went to his contact list. He dialed the number marked Quinn (Hunter/Cincinnati) and called.

Quinn was a fellow hunter that he, Sam, and Dean had met when they were on the road a little over two years ago after they got wind of a Wendigo in Ohio. What started as a typical hunting partnership turned into a celebration at the bar, which later turned into a night of (Y/N) and Quinn sharing the same bed. Since then, the two of them would text and call each other, asking each other for advice on hunts, getting to know one another, and, on occasion, scheduling a time and place for them to meet up if they were close enough. It was evident months after the two of them began communicating that they started to develop feelings. It wasn’t just casual sex to let out pent-up frustration, there were emotions behind the act, and both of them knew it. Quinn was the one who spoke up first. When prompted with the idea of making their relationship official, (Y/N) was hesitant, but he couldn’t deny the feeling that welled deep inside of him and accepted. Under one condition;

Sam and Dean couldn’t know.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers, or feared they wouldn’t like Quinn. Quite the contrary, he knew they would like him. Quinn’s personality was the perfect mixture of Sam and Dean. A badass flirt with the heart of a big nerd. He would fit right into their group. But there was one big secret that he had been keeping from his brothers his entire life, and he wasn’t yet prepared to make it public.

Sam and Dean didn’t know he was gay.

True, he never outwardly told them he was straight, but he also never attempted to flirt with anyone at the bar in front of them. Whenever they would question him about it (more specifically Dean), he would always brush him off and tell him how tired he was after the hunt. He never lied to them. He was always tired after hunts. Yet he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the only reason why. He would trick himself into thinking he didn’t know the reason behind his hesitancy, but he knew.

He couldn’t blame it on any event in particular, but he understood that his upbringing had a lot to do with his reluctance. With the lack of acceptance he saw from his father on a variety of topics and how influential their father was on Sam and Dean’s views - despite what Sam would say - he was anxious about the way his brothers would react if he came out to them. The worst-case scenario always popped into mind when he considered coming out to them. The idea that they wouldn’t accept him, that they would turn their backs on him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He would rather keep himself closeted for the rest of his life than risk it.

That was why he decided to feign his illness to spend quality time with his boyfriend. He planned to have Quinn spend a couple of days with him, going out with him on different dates, and doing various activities together, and, the day before Sam and Dean would get back, Quinn would head out and be back on the road while (Y/N) would go back to pretending he was in recovery. It was a foolproof plan.

He was sure of it.

*~*

Quinn arrived three hours after Sam and Dean had left. (Y/N) was quick to open the bunker door as soon as the knocking echoed throughout the halls. Quinn had a bright smile on his face. Clad in a loose-fitting plaid shirt, jeans, and combat boots, Quinn stood a couple of inches taller than (Y/N). His black hair was slicked back neatly, just like it was on their first official date, and his beard appeared to have been trimmed recently.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn greeted in his heavy Midwestern accent.

“Hey, glad you made it,” (Y/N) reached a hand up and cupped his cheek gently.

Quinn pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Had to drive around once or twice because I couldn’t find that little makeshift driveway y’all made, but other than that…” Quinn wrapped his arms around his waist.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s supposed to be hidden.”

Quinn smirked. “And you did a damn good job hiding it,” He mumbled before he leaned down, connecting their lips.

(Y/N) chuckled into the kiss, his eyes closing. His heart never failed to flutter every time Quinn kissed him. In a sense, (Y/N) felt the same as he did when he was in high school and had a crush on a boy in his class. Whenever Quinn was near him, holding his hand, and kissing him, he could feel the swarm of butterflies flying around in his gut. It was refreshing to his aging mind to feel as young as he did when he was around his boyfriend.

Quinn was the first to pull away, the smile never leaving his lips as he stared lovingly into (Y/N)’s eyes. He pressed their foreheads together. “So, it’s just gonna be us?”

“Just us for the whole week.”

Quinn hummed and kissed his cheek before he stood up straight. “Why don’t you show me around then? I’ve heard some stories about the Men of Letters here and there, but nothing much. I’m kind of excited to see what they have hidden down here.” Quinn stepped past the threshold and into the bunker.

“God, you sound just like my brother.” (Y/N) mumbled as he shut the door. “Always excited to research everything you find interesting.”

“Sounds like someone I’d get along with then. I’d love to meet him again someday.” Quinn hinted with a raised brow.

“Yeah…some day.”

(Y/N) gestured toward the stairs and began to walk down, Quinn a couple of steps behind him.

“So, you haven’t told them yet.” It was phrased more like a statement than a question. “I thought you would have told them by now.”

(Y/N) sighed as he got to the bottom of the stairs and turned back toward Quinn. “I was going to tell them…at some point. It just…never came up.”

“And, what, this wasn’t a time when it could have been brought up?”

“You know how I feel about telling them, Quinn.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. But we’ve been together for almost two years now. It was fun sneaking around in the beginning, but…” Quinn trailed. “(Y/N), I love you, and I see myself wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it will be, but I don’t want it to be in secret.” Quinn slowly took a couple of steps towards (Y/N) and grasped his hands in his. “I want you to be proud of our relationship,”

“I am proud of us,”

“Proud enough to tell your brothers?”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to reply, but he found it nearly impossible to lie to him. He wanted to say that he was confident enough to tell Sam and Dean. Confident enough to finally tell them what he had been hiding from them for years. Yet there was still that voice in the back of his head convincing him otherwise.

Quinn sighed after (Y/N) failed to answer. “Tell you what? We can talk about it before I leave, okay? How about we use this time to enjoy ourselves?”

(Y/N) glanced down at their hands for a moment. “You won’t be upset if we don’t talk about it right now?”

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. I promise,” he smiled. “I love you too much to stay mad at you for long.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.

Quinn chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around?”

*~*

After giving a brief tour of the bunker, accompanied by some oohs and awes from Quinn, (Y/N) helped him get set up in their shared bedroom. It was exciting. Even though Quinn was only staying for a couple of days, it would be the longest that the two of them had spent together consecutively, and that meant the world to (Y/N). He considered it his first taste of normalcy. A view of the ‘apple pie life’ as his brother called it.

Some would argue that the discovery of the bunker should be considered his first experience with a normal life. He permanently had a roof over his head, a place to call home. But it’s difficult to consider the bunker a ‘home’ in terms of ‘normal’ when his job was hunting. He was surrounded by his job, day in and day out, haunted by the spirits of the men who hunted before him. No, home to him was a two-story colonial, painted blue, with a white picket fence surrounding the front and back yards. Sure, the bunker was safe, and kept the dangers away while they had a chance to relax, but it wasn’t a home. It never felt like a home, not truly. At least, (Y/N) didn’t think that’s what a home should feel like.

Regardless, he had a feeling that, with Quinn by his side for the week, he would get a small glimpse into the reality he could have. A reality where hunting wasn’t a part of his life, where he wasn’t put in harm's way on a day-to-day basis with minimal pay - if you considered credit card fraud and hustling a paycheck. And the mere idea of experiencing such a life, even for a brief moment, sent a level of excitement through him and made him more anxious about the days to come.

For most of the day, Quinn explored the bunker, asking questions about various artifacts placed on display and getting less-than-satisfactory answers from his partner. His main level of interest was focused on the library, and the variety of research material scattered around the aged shelves. (Y/N) thought it was cute how excited he was, and he didn’t mind that his boyfriend’s attention was mainly attached to the bunker and not him. He had Quinn with him for a whole week, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself just by being in the same room as him.

They cooked dinner together that night, a basic pasta recipe one of them found online. Something was satisfying and romantic about the entire experience. In a way, they felt like newlyweds, having their first dinner in the very first house they bought together. It truly was as if they were staring through a lens at a reality they could have, and it was peaceful.

After dinner, the two of them sat in the living room - Dean’s ‘Man Cave’ as he likes to call it - with a movie cued up on the television, blankets covering their bodies, and pillows behind their backs for support. Quinn leaned back against the couch, one leg elevated on the rest of the couch, and one arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N)’s head rested on Quinn’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around his back, as they watched the movie. A bowl of popcorn sat on Quinn’s lap and the two of them snacked on it occasionally.

Well, more than occasionally.

Quinn reached his hand into the bowl but stopped when his fingertips scraped along the buttery plastic bottom. He looked down and noticed the bowl was empty. The movie was only a quarter of the way over, and he knew that the two of them would need more snacks if they were going to make it the rest of the way.

“Hey, go ahead and pause it. I’m going to go get us some more popcorn.” Quinn gestured towards the TV.

(Y/N) sat up, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. Quinn grunted as he stood up and stretched his back. A faint pop could be heard. Quinn let out a satisfied sigh as he looked down at his boyfriend.

“Do you want anything? Snacks or a drink?”

(Y/N) hummed. “I put some M&Ms on the top shelf in the glass cabinet. If you wouldn’t mind getting those, that would be great.”

Quinn furrowed his brows. “The glass cabinet? Why the hell did you put them there?”

“Trust me, if you know Dean Winchester, that man can snack,” (Y/N) rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I tried hiding my snacks everywhere in my room, but he always managed to find them. I’m waiting for him to find this stash.”

Quinn chuckled. “Okay, now I know I’ll get along with your brothers.” He turned and began to walk out of the room.

(Y/N) narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “If you tell Dean about my stash, I’ll kill you.”

Quinn pushed his bottom lip out, held up his free hand in surrender, and wordlessly walked out of the room.

When Quinn left, (Y/N) let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Even when he wasn’t in the room, knowing his boyfriend was in the same building as him made his heart flutter. A smile spread across his lips as he lowered himself onto the couch, lying on his side where Quinn had been sitting. He pulled the blanket closer to his body and let out a surprising giggle. A part of him felt pathetic for acting as such, but the other part adored it. Loved the way that Quinn made him feel. It only made the connection between them stronger, and that made (Y/N) look forward to their time together even more.

It didn’t take long for Quinn to return, the scent of fresh popcorn wafting into the living room. Quinn stopped as he passed through the door. He stared at (Y/N) for a moment before he walked in front of the couch. He held the bowl of popcorn in one hand and (Y/N)’s M&Ms in the other. He gestured down at him.

“I was sitting there,” he smirked.

(Y/N) raised a brow and glanced down at the couch. “Oh, were you?” He questioned, his smirk placed on his face as he snuggled deeper into the cushion.

Quinn deadpanned, head tilted to the side. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he silently nodded, set the bowl of popcorn and package of M&Ms on the ground next to the couch, and began to climb on top of (Y/N).

“What are you doing!?” (Y/N) exclaimed with an amused, yet startled tone.

“Laying down,” Quinn couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.

Quinn laid down on (Y/N), blanketing his body with his. (Y/N) groaned.

“You’re so heavy!” He whined.

Quinn laughed. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of (Y/N)’s neck and adjusted himself on top of him. “But you’re so comfy,”

(Y/N) let out a sigh and looked down at Quinn with raised brows. Quinn glanced up at him and gave him a bright, white smile. (Y/N) smirked.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as he reached his hand up and began to rake his fingers through Quinn’s soft hair.

“I know,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, here,” he mumbled as he shifted under Quinn’s weight. He adjusted himself so his legs were placed on either side of Quinn’s body, and Quinn was lying comfortably across (Y/N)’s chest and stomach. (Y/N) let out a breath of relief. “There, better. Now you’re not so heavy,” he teased.

Quinn glared at him and stuck his tongue out. He then laid his head on his chest gently, eyes cast towards the television. (Y/N) chuckled, his chest rumbling. He reached down, grabbed the remote, and, before he pressed ‘play’, pressed a kiss to Quinn’s temple.

“I love you,” he spoke softly.

Quinn glanced up at him, as if studying him, for a brief moment before a smile crept across his lips. “I love you, too, baby,”

*~*

The hunt was a bust. What started as a potential salt and burn turned out to be some ghost-hunting TV personality wannabe who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. The whole thing was a hoax. A waste of time, and a waste of gas. Dean wasn’t too happy about it, but a part of him was glad that he was able to get back to his bed sooner, rather than have his back stabbed by some cheap boxspring. His memory foam mattress sure had him spoiled. Sam, on the other hand, was excited to get back to the bunker to check in on their brother. They hadn’t called him since they left, and he was anxious to see if he was feeling any better. Granted, he didn’t know how well someone could feel in less than twenty-four hours, but he hoped that he would feel even slightly like his normal self.

He had been sick for over a week, after all.

They pulled into the bunker around four in the morning, no doubt thinking the rumbling of the Impala’s engine would wake their brother. Even in the deepest parts of the bunker, it was nearly impossible to miss the sound of the Impala approaching, and Dean thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

“I’m going to have Garth pay me back for all that gas I just wasted,” Dean grumbled as he climbed out of the Impala.

“Don’t,” Sam mumbled. “He didn’t know the hunt was going to be bogus.”

“The article was a week old, Sam, you said so yourself. You would think that he would do a bit more digging before sending us on a wild goose chase,” Dean opened up the trunk and grabbed his duffel bag.

“Dean,”

“And another thing! Do you know how many times I had to stop and get gas?”

Sam sighed, his movements sluggish, showing his evident exhaustion. “Yes, Dean, I know, I was there. Remember?”

“Twice! Garth owes me a hundred and twenty bucks for having to fill up that much because he didn’t give a shit enough to look more into the hunt.”

Sam reached a hand up and ran his thumb and forefinger against his heavy eyelids. “Dean, we’re home, okay? Let’s just go in, check on (Y/N), and go to bed.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it, instead, letting his shoulders slump. He found he was too tired to argue. “Fine,” he grumbled, tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, and wrapped his thumb around the strap.

The two ventured into the bunker, the familiarity, safety, and comfort of it all causing the exhaustion to double down on them. Sam let out a deep yawn as they stumbled down the stairs with heavy steps.

“Where do you think (Y/N) is?” Dean asked, the corner of his mouth opening as he yawned as well.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Probably his room. Probably asleep for the night,”

“Alright, I’ll check in on him. Make sure he’s not dying.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

They walked down the hallway to their respective rooms. Sam wandered into his room, leaving the door open as Dean walked down to his. Sam turned on the lamp from his nightstand and winced slightly at the harsh yellow light. He placed his bag at the corner of his bed and made his way over to the dresser. He was at least thankful for the fact he didn’t use any of the clothes he had packed. Less laundry he would have to do. He kicked off his boots and moved them over to the side of his dresser before he unzipped his duffel bag and began to place all of the clothes he had packed back into their designated spots.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hall. “He’s not in his room!”

Sam furrowed his brows and glanced towards the open door. “Did you check the bathroom?”

It was silent for a couple of seconds as Sam finished organizing his dresser. Soon, footsteps approached, which caused him to turn back to the door. Dean stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He gestured with his thumb down the hallway.

“He’s not in the bathroom either.” He said.

Sam furrowed his brows and hummed. He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. “He was on the couch when we left. Maybe he’s there.”

“Right, right, I’ll go check.”

Dean pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked away. Sam could practically feel the exhaustion starting to overwhelm him. He was used to staying up for hours on end, especially when it came to necessary research for a hunt. However, with all the driving they did that day, Dean’s constant bickering, and the endless classic rock songs, the day took a lot out of him. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had any caffeine either. He hoped that Dean would be able to find their brother so he could crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity.

As soon as Dean left, Sam took his empty duffel bag and placed it on the floor next to his shoes. He then walked over to his door, closed it gently, and wandered back over to his dresser, where he proceeded to change into his nightwear. Once the jeans and flannel were off his body, he felt a sense of relaxation, and even more tired than he had been before.

Just as he pulled on his sweats, his door swung open. He jumped and turned around, eyes wide. Dean stood in the doorway, a massive grin spread across his lips.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “I was changing.”

“Sorry,” Dean waved him off and shook his head. “Sammy…you gotta come see this.”

Sam walked over to him. “What’s up? Is (Y/N) okay?”

Dean snorted. “Oh, he is more than okay. Now, come on,” he gestured towards himself. “But you gotta be quiet.”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, brows furrowed, before Dean turned and began to head back down the hallway. Sam followed, the two of them walking silently. Now and then, Dean would glance back at his brother, a child-like glimmer in his eye, the look only causing further confusion.

“Stop looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out,” Sam said with an unsteady tone.

Dean shushed him, placing his index finger against his lips, as they stopped in front of the open living room door. Carefully, Dean took a step into the room and pointed to the couch.

“Look,” he whispered.

Sam stared at Dean before he, too, stepped into the room, peering inside. His eyes landed on the sofa. At the sight before him, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

When he first saw the look of giddiness in his brother’s eyes, he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. He was too tired to come up with any type of logical explanation at that point. The last thing he would have predicted, though, something that wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, was the image placed directly in front of him. He would have never guessed he would find his oldest brother with a man lying on his chest, peacefully asleep on the couch.

It took Sam a bit to realize his shocked expression was still on his face. He corrected it and crossed his arms as he slowly edged his way into the room, his footsteps light and quiet. Dean followed after him, his grin never wavering.

“So, I guess he wasn’t sick,” Sam whispered, leaning his body closer to Dean.

“Nope,” Dean whispered a little louder right back. “And you owe me twenty bucks,”

“For what?”

“Remember that bet we made?”

“Which one?”

“The one when we were at the bar in Illinois.”

“What? Six years ago?”

“Yeah! I told you that I bet he was gay.”

“This doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be bisexual for all we know.” Sam shrugged.

Dean deadpanned. “Sammy, have you ever seen him pick up chicks?”

“Well, no, but-”

“The entire time we’ve known him, have you ever heard about him having a girlfriend?”

“No, but he could just be a private person.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Well, I know I’m right.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“I’m his brother, I know him.”

“I’m his brother, too, dumbass.”

“Yeah, but you’re the baby. I’ve known him longer.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. Dean threw his hands up dramatically.

“Why don’t we just ask him?” Dean asked as he walked closer to the couch.

“Dude, he’s sleeping,” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

“And? It’s almost five o’clock. He needs to wake his ass up and introduce us to his boyfriend,”

Sam opened his mouth to say something else but found it difficult in his drained state. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he watched Dean move to the end of the couch where (Y/N)’s head rested. Dean went to say something but stopped himself. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and took a picture of (Y/N) and his mystery man. Dean chuckled deeply, chest rumbling.

“Real mature,” Sam mumbled.

“Oh, come on, I need it for blackmail later,” Dean replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Dean leaned back down, placing his hands on his knees, as he got closer to (Y/N)’s face. “(Y/N),” Dean said in a quiet singsong voice. “(Y/N),” he sang a little louder.

(Y/N) hummed.

“Time to get up, buddy,” Dean couldn’t resist the smirk that appeared.

“Five more minutes,” (Y/N) grumbled and turned his head away from his brother.

“(Y/N)!” Dean exclaimed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate off the walls.

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide open, staring directly at Dean and Sam, filled with weariness and confusion. Dean stood up and backed away from him. He gave a small wave while Sam shot him a sympathetic look. (Y/N)’s gaze quickly shifted between his brothers as he blinked rapidly to wake himself up. He tried to sit up but remembered the heavy weight on his chest. He looked down at Quinn’s sleeping form. For a hunter, (Y/N) had to admit, Quinn was a heavy sleeper. He slapped Quinn on the shoulder.

“Quinn,” he said.

Quinn whined.

“Quinn,” he hissed.

“Couple more minutes, babe,”

(Y/N) closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, trying to will away the red tinge that fought its way onto his cheeks. He slapped Quinn’s shoulder again, a little harder that time.

“Get up!”

Quinn groaned and opened his eyes. “What?” He looked up at (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked at him and gestured towards his brothers. Quinn turned his head and, immediately, his brows shot up, and he appeared more alert than ever. He sat up from his position on top of his boyfriend and scrambled to sit on the couch next to him.

“Oh, um,” Quinn cleared his throat as he situated himself on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, hands folded together.

(Y/N) sat up slowly, his body still riddled with sleep but progressively gaining a new feeling of anxiety. Of fear. He felt like a child that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Despite the looks on his brothers’ faces, which preached the opposite of how he was feeling, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the worst-case scenario. He was convinced, at that moment with his brain fogged with interrupted slumber, that he had just spent his last night in the bunker.

“So…” Dean trailed before he gestured to Quinn. “Who’s this?”

(Y/N) looked over at Quinn before he cast his eyes down to the ground. “Um…” he paused, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse. Trying to think of a lie that would sound convincing. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, nothing he thought of would work. His brothers would see right through it.

Quinn watched (Y/N) and noticed how much he struggled with getting the words out. He licked his lips and sat up. “I’m Quinn, I’m his-”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“I mean, I would hope he’s your boyfriend. I think the way you guys were practically sleeping inside each other was a bit too much for just friends,” Dean replied and chuckled.

Sam sighed. “Dean, don’t be an ass.”

“I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged.

(Y/N) huffed before he slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “You know what, it’s too early for this. If you’re going to yell, go ahead and yell. Just get it out of your system. I’ll just go ahead and start packing,” (Y/N) turned to leave the room. Quinn was quick to stand.

The smile vanished from Dean’s face for the first time since he discovered the two. “Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah,” Dean rushed over and gently grasped his brother’s arm to stop him. “Packing? Why?”

(Y/N) halted and turned to his brother. “I just…I figured-”

“What? That we would kick you out?”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked down. Dean’s frown deepened as Sam padded closer to them.

“(Y/N),” Sam began. “We would never kick you out because of that. All because you have a boyfriend?”

“Wait, so…” (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he fully turned his body so he was facing Sam and Dean. “You guys don’t care that I’m gay?”

Dean immediately smacked Sam’s shoulder. “See? Told you! You owe me!”

“Okay, okay, hold on,” (Y/N) ran his hands down his face and shook his head. He suddenly felt a strong, warm arm wrap across his shoulders. He glanced up to see Quinn standing by his side, holding onto him. A comforting smile was on his face. (Y/N) then looked back at his brothers. “You bet on me being gay?”

“I said that you were gay. Sammy over here didn’t believe it for a minute.” Dean said smugly.

“It’s not that I didn’t believe it. We just didn’t have anything to go off of.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I knew from the moment he turned that hot blonde down at the first bar we went to,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah, right,”

“I did! She was hot! He would have been stupid to turn him down if he was straight, which he isn’t.”

“He could have also had a type Dean.”

“Type my ass, that girl was everyone’s type,”

While his brothers bickered in front of him, (Y/N) watched them, mouth agape. Next to him, Quinn chuckled. He pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple.

“How’re you feeling?” He whispered in his ear.

(Y/N) looked at him for a second before he stared back at his brothers, mouth still open, words seemingly unable to form. He was too in shock to think of anything to say. He was so busy convincing himself that his brothers would negatively view him after he came out to them that he never took into consideration the possibility of them being supportive. It was then he began to think of all the things they had supported him in through the years. They were always with him, always had his back, and he always had theirs. Sure, they had their fights, they had their moments, but they always came back together. They always talked it through.

In the end, he felt like a fool for thinking they would kick him out.

“Look, I need to ask something,” Sam chimed up, his attention now turned towards his eldest brother.

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered up at him. He closed his mouth, feeling that it had gone dry.

“(Y/N), what did we do to ever make you think we would kick you out? And, whatever it is, I’m sorry that we came across that way.” Sam continued.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we never meant to do anything that made you think you couldn’t tell us.”

(Y/N) hesitated. “No, no, you guys, you guys didn’t do anything, um…it’s just…I…” Again, he was struggling to find the words to describe his thought process.

“He was projecting his own insecurity onto the situation,” Quinn said, nodding.

(Y/N) ran his tongue over his teeth and pursed his lips. He looked up at Quinn and gave him a tight smile. “You know, Quinn, that couch was pretty comfy, right?”

Quinn furrowed his brows at the statement. “Uh, yeah, I guess it was?”

“Would you like to sleep on it for the rest of your visit?”

Dean snorted and Sam pressed his lips into a thin line to hide the grin he was holding back.

“Uh, nope, no, I’m okay,”

“That’s what I thought,” (Y/N) shook his head and turned to his brothers. “No, guys, you didn’t do anything wrong. I guess…I don’t know, with the way that Dad was with us growing up, a part of me was afraid that that part of him would have rubbed off on you guys. I was severely overthinking it and I let the fear of what Dad would think overshadow how you guys truly are.” (Y/N) then looked back up at Quinn. “Was that a good way to describe it? Since it seems like you’re my shrink now?”

“That was wonderfully put, babe,” Quinn grinned widely.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes.

Sam chuckled. “Hey, I get it, okay?” Sam smiled comfortingly. “I wish that you would have told us sooner, but I’m glad we know now. Just know that we still love you, (Y/N), no matter who you date.”

“Unless you were dating a demon,” Dean interjected. “Or Crowley. Crowley is off limits.”

“Crowley isn’t my type anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that,” (Y/N) chuckled. “My type is more of a Midwest-Country hunter.” (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Quinn’s middle.

Quinn looked down at him with a small smile on his face. A couple of seconds ticked by before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh! You mean me!”

(Y/N) deadpanned. “A Midwest-Country hunter who’s also an idiot at times.”

“But I’m your idiot.”

“Unfortunately,”

“Hey!”

“You guys are so cute,” Dean paused. “Makes me want to throw up.” He grimaced.

“So, wait, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Yeah! We met two years ago. I joined you guys on a hunt in Ohio. Columbus?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they both shook their heads.

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. “We see a lot of hunters while we’re out, and two years is a long time.”

Quinn waved him off. “I get it, don’t worry.”

“Only gives us more of a reason to get to know you,” Sam mumbled before a yawn erupted from his mouth. “But not tonight. How long are you staying for?”

“About a week,” Quinn shrugged. “If that’s alright, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries man. As long as you stay the Hell out of my room,” Dean fought back his yawn.

“Noted.” Quinn chuckled.

“Alright, well, it was nice meeting you, again, but we’re hitting the hay. The drive back was brutal.”

“Why are you guys back so early anyway? You never said anything.” (Y/N) asked.

“Well, you see, Garth-” Dean began.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “We’ll explain when we get up. We need to get to bed and I don’t need to hear him complain anymore tonight. He’s been doing it all night.”

“Hey, I have not complained all night.”

“All night he has done nothing but complain.”

“I have not!”

Sam and Dean squabbled as they shuffled out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he listened.

“Goodnight!” He hollered once their voices started to soften.

There was a pause before both brothers simultaneously shouted, “Goodnight!” back.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head. Suddenly, he felt Quinn wrap an arm around his waist, pulling his body close. (Y/N) turned and tilted his head to look up at him. Quinn rested his forehead against (Y/N)’s, their noses brushing against one another.

“Is it too late to say ‘I told you so’?” Quinn asked in a quiet, low voice.

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Well, it’s not too late for you to still sleep on the couch.”

Quinn snorted, his chest rumbling with his chuckle. “You love me too much to do that.”

“I guess,”

“You guess?” Quinn asked, his hands moving from (Y/N)’s back to his stomach. “You guess?”

(Y/N) tried to jerk away, but found that Quinn had a strong grasp on him. “Quinn,” he warned.

“You guess?” Quinn repeated before his fingers began to dance over (Y/N)’s stomach.

(Y/N) tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up inside his throat, but it was all to no avail. His attempts to move away from Quinn were futile as the laughs echoed in the room. Quinn had a goofy grin on his face.

“Quinn, stop!”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it!”

“Dammit! I love you, you idiot!”

As soon as (Y/N) spoke, the tickling seized. The laughter died down and Quinn wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him into a tight embrace. He began to litter (Y/N)’s face with kisses.

(Y/N) grimaced. “Stop it!” He whined, smiling.

Quinn let out a content sigh, pressing a final kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

Quinn pulled back so that he was able to look his boyfriend in his eyes. “For telling your brothers. For letting yourself be vulnerable like that. Now that’s the man I want to be with. The strong, badass, sometimes vulnerable hunter that is confident in himself. I can already see a change in you as soon as they told you they accepted you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

(Y/N) tilted his head to the side and looked up deep into Quinn’s eyes with much love and adoration. He leaned up and gently pressed a kiss against his lips. Quinn closed his eyes and kissed him back immediately. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt sparks as they kissed, as if they were kissing for the first time all over again. It made his chest flutter and his stomach stir with butterflies. It reinforced the idea that Quinn loved him, and he loved Quinn. They were with each other through thick and thin. Quinn was, indeed, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

As they parted, they stared longingly into each other’s eyes, the passion never waning as Quinn reached a hand up to caress (Y/N)’s cheek.

“What do you say we go back to your room and cuddle? It’s still pretty early,” Quinn suggested.

“I like that idea. But no more sleeping on top of me.”

“Aw, come on, but you’re so comfy. How about we take turns? Now you can sleep on top of me.”

(Y/N) smirked. “It’s a deal.”

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

Oh, I can ABSOLUTELY do Azazel. He's a dick, I have no problem making him the bad guy in this lol I'll add it to the queue and get working on it as soon as I can.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural scribe #request

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

Note

Hope you are having a good day

I was wondering if you were okay with writing a request that mentions SA/r@p3?

Hey Anon!

I have no problem writing on this topic, but I'm a little picky when it comes to topics like this.

As long as there is no mention of any character FROM Supernatural (i.e. Sam, Dean, Castiel, etc...) doing the act, then I have no problem with it. If you're looking for a comfort fic that involves this heavy topic, then I have no issue writing it! I appreciate you asking! Go ahead and send in your request :)

#supernatural #spn #supernatural scribe #request

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

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I am SO sorry for not getting to this ask sooner. A lot has been happening the last two weeks and I am just now getting over the stomach flu :)

Of course, I will write this! I will start writing it today! It's such a cute idea and I've had time to mull it over. I'm confident that you'll love the way it comes out! I will tag you when I post it!

#supernatural #spn #supernatural scribe #request

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

Text

Trick or Treat

Words: 4,489

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: TFW x Trans!FTM!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Castiel is super cute in this but he's not as involved as Sam and Dean, Dean acting like a kid in a candy store, I think that's it?

Summary: Halloween always held a special place in the reader's heart. It was one of his favorite holidays. However, as he got older and started to discover more about himself, he never got to dress up as the characters he wanted when he was younger. When Sam, Dean, and the reader stumble upon an annual Halloween Festival in a small town after a hunt, the reader is reminded of all the things he could have been. When the truth comes to light, Sam and Dean make a plan to give the reader a night he will never forget.

Request:

This might be really specific but I have an idea if you feel like writing it. Something about reader ending up talking about how he used to hate halloween as kid because he never got to dress up the way he wanted, it always had to be something like a princess, a witch, "girl costumes" and then maybe he never dressed up when he got a little older as hunting started happening and there was never a party or something like that and since Sam and Dean know pretty well what a shit childhood feels like, team free will ends up preparing a halloween night with candy and horror movies and most important of all, costumes. So it's the first time he gets to dress up as whatever he wants just for fun.

Anonymous

A/N: I got this out just in the nick of time! I really hope you guys enjoy this story because I had a lot of fun writing it and imagining the boys in the costumes I picked out for them! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Halloween!

Much Love!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The diner was bustling, the small space filled with a mix of old and young people. Waitresses were running from one place to another in a frenzy, passing people their drinks and food and anything else they had asked for. (Y/N), Sam, and Dean were lucky to find a table when they did, and they were extremely thankful for it. The hunt had been a tough one - a group of vampires whose lust for blood had been higher than they had ever seen - and what they truly desired was a hot meal in their stomachs and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed that their hot meal would take a little longer than they would've liked.

For a Tuesday evening, the place was uncharacteristically packed. It wasn’t just the diner filled to the brim with customers, however. The entire downtown strip was swamped, each restaurant having a long line of people waiting outside for a table. People were dressed in semi-casual clothing, jackets, and sweaters worn around their torsos to combat the chill Autumn air. Orange, white, and black lights were strung along streetlights, illuminating the roads and sidewalks.

Dean’s leg bounced up and down, fingers laced together on the table, and jaw clenched. Sam was leaning back in the booth beside his brother, hands resting lazily on the tabletop. (Y/N)’s elbow was placed on the table as well, cheek in the palm of his hand. It was evident that all of them were exhausted, and it was even more obvious that Dean was getting impatient.

“Come on, where the hell is the waitress?” Dean huffed.

“It’s packed, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Give her a break.”

“Packed or not, I’m starving. I need a burger.”

A party of five wandered into the diner. Someone at the counter turned towards the door once the bell rang and called out to them. Dean growled and placed his head into his hands. The group gathered right beside their booth and began to chat loudly. Dean’s eye visibly twitched as he reached inside his jacket, only to be stopped by Sam with a firm hand on his wrist.

“Dean,” Sam said in a warning tone.

Dean mumbled something under his breath and withdrew his hand. “Why the hell is it so busy, anyway?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” (Y/N) said. “It’s not Halloween yet, is it?”

“Halloween’s not for another week.”

“Then what the Hell is going on?”

A waitress shimmied between the boisterous party and their table, a serving tray filled with drinks in one hand. She glanced down at them and gave a small, apologetic smile.

“I am so sorry, you guys. I’ll be with you as soon as I put these drinks down.” She spoke sweetly.

“Take your time,” Sam gave her a wave and a smile.

The waitress let out a huff before she squeezed the rest of the way through and deeper into the building. Dean shook his head and placed his forehead into his hands. (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

“Calm down, Dean, before you have a heart attack.” He chuckled.

Dean lifted his head and glared at him. “I just want my burger.” He replied between clenched teeth.

It wasn’t long before the waitress came back over, stopping in front of their table. The serving tray was tucked underneath her arm and a notepad was in her hand.

“Alright,” she began. “I’m so very sorry for the wait.”

“Don’t worry about it,” (Y/N) waved her off. “We see how busy you are. We get it.”

“Thank you so much,” she let out a breath of relief. “Now, what can I get you guys to eat and drink?”

The three of them ordered their food and beverages and the waitress was quick to depart again. She soon appeared with the drinks and made a promise that the meal would be out as quickly as it could. They weren’t holding their breath on that promise, though. As they waited, there was minimal conversation between them. Conversations that had once surrounded them had begun to settle as some people began to disperse and head down the street in small groups. The diner had transformed into a quiet, peaceful environment once again. By the time their food arrived, there were only a handful of people left.

They dug into their food quicker than they ever had before, the wait taking a toll on their stomachs and, for the first couple of minutes, they didn’t talk. They just ate. The occasional satisfying hum escaped from their mouths but, other than that, nothing was said between them. The irritation that had been so evident on Dean’s face merely minutes prior had seemed to disappear and was replaced by a relaxed, yet tired, expression.

“How is everything over here?” The waitress returned, head tilted to the side. She didn’t seem as distressed as she had been when the building was full.

(Y/N) looked up from his food and swallowed the mouthful he had. He nodded. “Very good, ma’am,” he said.

“That’s great to hear. Do you guys need anything else? Some refills on drinks?”

Dean held up a finger as he finished chewing. “I’ll have some more,” he gestured to his glass. “But I gotta ask. Why in the Hell was it so busy earlier?”

The waitress gave an uneasy smile and let out a shaky breath. “Not from around here, I see. Today’s the first night of our annual Halloween festival. A lot of people like to go out to eat before they head downtown for the events.”

“Isn’t Halloween next week?” Sam asked.

“Yes, it is. They like to host the events a week early so they don’t take away from the trick-or-treating that the kids do that night.”

“What kind of events do you even have at a Halloween festival?”

“Well, there’s lots. They have bobbing for apples, pie eating contests, pie baking contests, hay rides, a petting zoo, crafts for the kids, cider tasting for adults, and loads of entertainment that they hire. It changes every year. Tonight, however, is our-”

“Trick or Treat!” Two in-sync, high-pitched voices accompanied the bell from the entrance.

All heads turned towards the door. A mother with two children walked inside. The waitress gestured towards the family.

“Business Trick or Treat event.” She finished. “I’ll be back in one second,” she held up a finger before she walked towards the front door.

Dean furrowed his brows. “‘Business Trick or Treat’? What’s that?”

(Y/N) turned to look at Dean for a moment before his eyes returned to the family that had entered. The mother was dressed in casual clothing compared to her two children. One child, seemingly the youngest, had a bright pink ballgown on that stopped just before it reached her ankles. A plastic, sparkling wand was in her hand and a tiara rested atop her blonde hair. The other child stood tall in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit. They both held multi-colored plastic pumpkin buckets with candy already peaking out of the top.

For a moment, (Y/N) found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy. The smile on his face was almost infectious. Memories of his own Halloweens were brought back to him instantly. All the times he went out with his parents, wandering from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, in search of the best candy there was. All the times that he dressed up as a princess, fairy, witch, or even an angel ironically enough. All the times he wished he could have dressed up as Batman, a cowboy, Indiana Jones, or a pirate. Yet every time he asked his parents if he was able to dress as such, the idea was turned down, and he was directed towards the more ‘appropriate’ costumes for a ‘precious little girl’ like he was.

He could remember seeing the other boys at school getting to dress up as who they wanted to be for Halloween while he was stuck in the clothes his parents wanted him to wear. Even as he grew up and ultimately became too old to go Trick or Treating, the want to dress up as some of his favorite characters was strong within him. He got into cosplay when he was an older teenager, but he only felt confident in his work in his early twenties. By then, his hunting career had taken off, and the time for Halloween parties and Comic Cons were off the table, so he never got the opportunity to dress as he wanted. He still cosplayed now and then in the privacy of his room, of course, but there was still that desire to show off his skills, to express himself differently than he already did. He knew it was wishful thinking. Halloween was a laughable holiday in the eyes of hunters, after all.

“(Y/N)!” Dean said.

(Y/N) quickly turned his head and looked at Dean. “What?”

“Dude, you zoned out there for a minute. You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just, um,” (Y/N) turned back to look at the door, only to see that the mother and her children had disappeared, making him wonder just how long he had been out of it. “Just thinking,” he turned back to Sam and Dean.

“About what?” Sam asked as he took a bite of his food.

(Y/N) pursed his lips and looked down. He began to fiddle with his fingers. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just thinking about when I was a kid and I used to do Halloween. It’s stupid, I know, but I remember having so much fun,” a smirk played in the corner of his lips. “Thought about how, one year, I wanted to dress up as a pirate with a peg leg, eyepatch, the works. Then another year I wanted to be Batman. Then the next year it was Spiderman. My mom would always tell me ‘That’s not the kind of outfit girls wear’ and then make me wear some stupid dress.”

Sam and Dean gazed at him, a look of sympathy on their face. (Y/N) finally looked up and glanced between the brothers. He inhaled sharply and placed his hands flat on the table.

“Anyway,” he stood up from the booth. “I’m done with my food if the waitress comes by to take them. I’m going to go to the bathroom before we head back to the motel.” With a tight smile, he turned and walked away from the table.

The brothers watched as he vanished into the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, they looked at one another, sharing a knowing gaze.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked.

Sam let out a sigh. He was, indeed, thinking exactly what his brother was thinking. “You know how I feel about Halloween.”

“Come on,” Dean shook his head. “You saw how (Y/N) was. Seems like something he missed out on. Let’s do it for him.”

“You’re right…” Sam paused. “Alright, let’s do it.”

*~*

“Alright, we have ground beef, hamburger buns, frozen pizzas, a bunch of veggies, cereal, milk, eggs, butter, and…” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the paper. “Canned chickpeas?” He furrowed his brows before he looked over at Sam.

Dean deadpanned and looked at his brother. Sam glanced between the two of them, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” He asked. “Chickpeas are good!”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and gave a small, curt nod. He patted Sam on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, Sammy,” he smiled before he turned, reached down, and zipped up his jacket. “And you guys are sure you don’t wanna go? You never miss out on a supply run. I always seem to get things wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered quickly. “We’re sure.”

“We’re still pretty tired from the last hunt,” Sam added.

“Yeah, took a lot out of us,”

“A lot.”

(Y/N) stared at them, a look of suspicion on his face as he studied them momentarily. Sam and Dean had always made a point to go on supply runs when they needed food. They were rather picky about some of the ingredients that they bought, mainly the snacks that they would always put on the list. They never stayed home because a hunt ‘took a lot out of them’. Even hunts that had taken them weeks to complete and copious amounts of back-breaking work never seemed to tire them out enough to constitute them staying home. Something was up, but (Y/N) didn’t know what it could have been.

“Right…” (Y/N) drew out. “Well, I’m gonna need the keys.” He held out a hand to Dean.

Dean slowly raised his brows, glanced down at (Y/N)’s open palm, and then looked back up at him. “Keys?” He asked in a small voice.

“Yeah, keys. To Baby.”

“Well, uh…can’t you…can’t you take another car? I mean, you’ve never driven Baby before and I wouldn’t want your first time-”

“There’s more trunk space in the Impala than any other car we have here. There are three fully grown adults I need to shop for. I need the space. Keys.”

“Right, right,” Dean slowly reached into his pocket and hesitantly took out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to (Y/N). He paused before quickly dropping them in his hand.

(Y/N) smiled. “Thanks,” he pocketed the keys. “And, don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

With that, (Y/N) placed his hands into his pockets and walked out of the room. Dean watched him leave, a weary look on his face. He opened his mouth repeatedly as he tried to get words out, but they seemed to be caught in his throat. Before he could say anything, the heavy sound of the bunker door echoed throughout the halls. Dean pressed his lips together tightly and ran his fingers stressfully through his hair. Sam couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face.

“You know, this was your idea, right?” He quirked.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled and placed his hands on his hips. “I just gotta think of something else. Do we have everything?”

“Uh, yeah. Decorations, candy, movies, costumes,” Sam grimaced at the last word he spoke.

“Okay, alright,” Dean clapped his hands together. “I’ll give Cas a call then we can get to work.”

“I’ll grab the stuff,” Sam sauntered out of the library.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialed Castiel’s number, and placed the phone against his ear. It didn’t take long before he heard Castiel’s voice on the other end.

��Hey, Cas, (Y/N) just left. We’re ready to get set up. How soon can you be here?”

*~*

“Stupid people don’t know how to fucking drive. Stupid cops for not knowing how to block off a goddamn road.” (Y/N) grumbled as he walked into the bunker, slamming the front door shut. As he descended the steps leading to the War Room, he cupped a hand on the side of his mouth. “Dean! Sam! The supply run was a bust! They have half the route to Salina blocked off because of a high-speed chase or some shit, and I’m not about to spend another hour in the car to get to Grand Island. I’d rather wait until you guys are feeling-”

(Y/N) turned the corner into the library and stopped. His eyes widened as he looked around. Strung along the pillars were purple and orange lights shaped like Jack-O-Lanterns. Orange and black balloons tied to weighted bags were strewn about the place with small bats scattered around each balloon. A banner hung across the room, connected to the center pillars, that read HAPPY HALLOWEEN. The wooden tables were covered with cheap tablecloths, alternating between orange, purple, and black. On the first table was a large, clear, plastic bowl filled with liquid, several smaller bowls with various snacks and candies inside, a plate of those cheap Pillsbury Halloween-themed cookies, a plate of caramel apples, plastic cups, and paper plates. A projector was set up on the next table, facing away from (Y/N). One thing he immediately noticed was that the tables had been pushed together, giving more space along the far wall for a hanging projector screen as well as four beanbag chairs that rested side by side on the floor.

The decorations weren’t the only thing that (Y/N) noticed, however. Standing in the middle of the library were Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Only, they weren’t in their normal outfits. Sam stood tall - taller than he normally did - in black platform shoes, a brown button-up shirt with shoulder pads placed underneath, and tattered jeans. His face, neck, and arms were painted comically green, and plastic screws were placed on his temples, giving him the classic Frankenstein look. Dean, on the other hand, wore a vintage-looking Ghostbusters uniform with Venkman written on the nametag. A bulky black backpack was placed on his shoulders as a makeshift proton pack, and he paired it with his black combat boots. Castiel had the best outfit of them all. He wore a solid black skin-tight outfit that covered his skin from the base of his neck downward, a black hat with long antennae sticking up, clear rounded wings that stuck out beside him, and a black and yellow striped body suit that was slightly too big for his frame.

(Y/N) stood there, taking in all the detail around him, mouth ajar. Sam, Dean, and Castiel looked at one another. Sam and Dean gave slightly awkward smiles. Dean shrugged his shoulders and gestured around him.

“Surprise!” He said.

The exclamation shook (Y/N) out of the trance he had been in. He let out a breathy laugh. “What’s all this?”

“Well, back at the diner, you said that you had always wanted to dress up for Halloween as what you wanted, but never got the chance to,” Sam began.

“So, Sam and I had the idea that, since you didn’t get to dress up as you wanted to when you were little, we might as well give you a chance to do it now.” Dean finished.

“But…you guys hate Halloween.” (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, his heart swelling up with warmth and appreciation.

“I don’t hate Halloween. Ebenezer Scrooge over here does,” Dean gestured towards his brother.

“Ebenezer Scrooge hates Christmas, Dean,” Sam deadpanned.

“Eh, toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.” Dean shrugged. “And since we didn’t want you to dress up by yourself for this, we got costumes of our own. I’m Peter Venkman, the best Ghostbuster, Gigantor is Frankenstein, and then Cas is-”

“I’m a Honey Bee,” Castiel said with a bright, proud smile.

(Y/N) chuckled. “I can see that,” he said and walked closer to them. “Guys, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“We didn’t have to, but we wanted to,” Sam said. “We saw how much it meant to you and figured that we could forget about hunting for one night if that meant you would have a great time. Oh!” Sam turned and walked over to the table with the projector on it. He pulled out one of the chairs and grabbed a plastic Walmart sack. He held it out to (Y/N). “We got you a couple of costumes as well. We didn’t know what you would have wanted, so we got a variety.”

(Y/N) graciously accepted the bag and brought it close to him. “Thank you, but, I actually had a costume that I’ve been saving for a rainy day. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get everything ready, but I promise I’ll be quick!”

With a pep in his step, (Y/N) hurried out of the library before any of them could say a word. He jogged down the endless hallways until he got to his room. When he walked inside, he tossed the bag onto the bed and rushed to the other side of his bed. He got down on his knees, reached underneath the frame, and pulled out a storage trunk. He unclipped the locks and revealed the contents, the smile never leaving his face.

As he got ready, he could feel the excitement flooding his body. The idea that he would finally be able to show off the skills that he had gathered from years of practice made him happier than he had been in a while. He was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t believe the extent the boys had gone to to make him happy. To live out a childhood memory that he held so near and dear to his heart. To give him the proper memories that he wished he could have had when he was little. He had to stop now and then to compose himself as he thought about it, but they weren’t sad, regretful tears like he would have normally shed. They were happy tears. Joyous tears. Tears that he didn’t mind shedding, but not while he was getting ready. He would shed them later. Everything had to be perfect.

Forty-five minutes later, (Y/N) was ready. He had given himself a pep-talk, double-checked his references from his past attempts at the makeup style he had chosen, and checked to make sure his outfit was on correctly in the full mirror that was placed in the corner of his room. When everything had been looked over and he felt satisfied with the result, he walked out of his bedroom and headed back towards the library. The sound of his boots echoed throughout the hallway.

“Sorry it took so long,” he said as he rounded the corner. “I just had to get everything right.”

He stopped a little ways away from the group, who sat at one of the tables. Their eyes shifted to him as soon as he walked in. Each of them scanned him up and down, studying his outfit.

(Y/N) wore a short blonde wig that was slicked back neatly so that no strand was out of place, black sunglasses, an earpiece over his left ear with a microphone that stopped at the corner of his lips, a blue button-up with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms and the S.T.A.R.S logo on his left sleeve, a combat vest equipped with a radio that the earpiece connected to, black pants with a holster strapped to his right thigh, black fingerless gloves, and black boots with laces tied neatly at the top. He had added some definition to his face with the help of makeup, sharpening the edges of his jaw and cheekbones.

Sam raised his brows. “Woah,” he said.

“That’s awesome!” Dean smiled. “Are you that one guy from that videogame you showed me? What was it? Silent Hill or something?”

“Close. Resident Evil. I’m Albert Wesker,” (Y/N) held out his arms.

“How did you get your face to look like that?” Dean narrowed his eyes as he stood to get a better look.

“Makeup.”

“Makeup can change the appearance of your face like that?” Castiel asked with his head slightly tilted to the side, the antennae on top of his head shifting with his movements.

“Yeah! It’s all about placement and what products you use.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dean asked.

“I’ve been practicing for years.”

“So, wait,” Sam stood. “You’ve cosplayed before?”

“Well, not out in public I haven’t, but I’ve been working on my cosplays for a couple of years, trying out different styles and techniques. It was the closest thing that I ever came to dressing up for Halloween.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? You’re really good at it!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! You’re like a whole new person.”

(Y/N) beamed. “Thanks.” He then glanced towards the table and noticed Sam’s laptop had been brought in and hooked up to the projector. He tilted his head. “What’s this?”

Sam looked down at his computer. “Well, what’s a Halloween celebration without horror movies?”

“Yeah! And Cas hasn’t seen Ghostbusters before!” Dean exclaimed, seeming genuinely offended by his own statement. “Ghostbusters! He’s never seen it! Can you believe it?”

“I’ve never understood why people would want to watch a movie based around the idea of being scared.” Castiel shook his head.

“Because, to normal people, it’s make-believe Cas.” (Y/N) answered. “They don’t consider the possibility that there are actual monsters out there killing people. They like to believe that it’s all fictitious plots created by Hollywood. Ghostbusters, though, is more comedy than horror. I think you’ll love it.”

“So are we watching it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, let’s watch it!”

“Awesome! I’m getting myself some snacks and then we can sit in the beanbag chairs and watch it. My idea, by the way.”

“Oh, it was your idea, really?” (Y/N) asked sarcastically.

“Hey! I wanted us to be comfortable while we watch all these movies!” Dean defended. “Plus, they’re plush! It’s like I’m sitting on a cloud! Sit in one!”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s evident enthusiasm. It seemed like he was just as excited about the Halloween party as (Y/N) had been. “Let me get snacks first and then we can get settled.”

“I’ll get the movie up,” Sam said as he sat down at his computer.

Once the movie was connected, the three of them got their snacks while Castiel went to take a seat in one of the beanbag chairs. They were, soon, all nestled in their own chair, watching various Halloween films on the projector screen. Dean was right, it did feel like he was sitting on a cloud. They talked, laughed, made fun of the cheesy jumpscares, criticized some of the terrible lore, and explained different plot points to Castiel whenever he had a question.

In the end, (Y/N) had the most fun that he had in a long time. It had been years since he was able to feel that way about Halloween, and it brought back some good childhood memories, and the moments that they shared seemingly rewrote the bad ones, replacing them with a core memory he would never forget. He was thankful for Sam, Dean, and Castiel. He was lucky to have them in his life. He was thankful that they took the time to plan their little ‘Halloween Party’. Even though it wasn’t as extravagant as some of the parties (Y/N) had been to when he was younger, nor the ones he had seen on movies and television, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was able to spend some quality time with the boys, show off his cosplaying skills, and watch those horror movies he had grown to know and love.

That Halloween was the best one he ever had;

And he couldn’t wait to convince the boys to do it again next year.

41 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

Text

Euphoric

Words: 3,587

POV: 3rd Person and brief 1st Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, Dysphoria, a single mention of Deadname (D/N), self-hate, mention of past self-harm, attempted self-harm, hurt/comfort

Summary: Dysphoria can hit at any moment, and when it hits, it hits hard. The reader is going through a tough time with the way he looks, doubting himself and the people around him. When he feels at his lowest, ready to seep back into his old ways, his boyfriend, Gabriel, is there to help him out.

Request:

Hi I've been binge-reading your stories recently and I was wondering if you could do this request. :)

So a Gabriel/FTM!Reader where the reader is dealing with really bad dysphoria (possibly mentioning past SH?) and a comforting Gabe? Possibly with an established relationship?

(Would be so fucking rad if he Sam and Dean's younger brother!!)

Tysm even if you don't do this, I love your work so much and it's helped so much recently

@genekies

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, hun! A lot has been going on at work that has taken my focus away from writing. However, I finally found the inspiration to write this with the help of my Supernatural novels that I found hidden away in a box! I really hope you enjoy this story and that it brings you some type of comfort! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Good morning, sugarplum!

Sorry, I couldn’t be there when you woke up this morning. Duty calls. I’ll be back later tonight! I hope you have a good day! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! <3

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

Why do some people wake up with an already negative attitude? A multitude of factors could be the cause; relationship issues, low self-esteem, stress, unhealthy thoughts, and lack of sleep are just a handful of possibilities. Some have their reasonings read out to them by a licensed professional they pay an arm and a leg to visit every couple of weeks, while others lack the funds and/or the proper motivation to cope, so they bottle it up inside, casting it away to the darkest depths of their mind for weeks, maybe months. They ignore the feelings they get, the troubles that stalk them, until the bottle inside of them fills to the brim. It shakes and stirs, begging for release. It spills out, slowly at first, but then the pressure becomes too much to handle, and it combusts.

And (Y/N) felt like he was about to explode.

Nothing looked right. His jawline wasn’t sharp enough, his curves were more pronounced than ever, his binder didn’t make him flat enough, he was too short, the hair on his face was barely considered peach fuzz at that point, and his eyes - yes, his eyes - screamed femininity. Screamed female. Screamed everything about you is wrong. Screamed;

You are not a man, and you never will be.

It wasn’t often that his gender dysphoria acted out as bad as it had that day. Sure, there were times when he woke up and the negative thoughts just never seemed to go away. The thoughts that made certain parts of him look wrong, misplaced. Rarely had his mind told him that everything about him was wrong. Rarely did his mind tell him he wasn’t the man he wanted to be. But, when those thoughts arose, they hit him hard, as if he got struck by a semi-truck going eighty on the interstate. It hollowed him out and made him a shell of his former self. A shell that was slowly wilting away.

His brothers were the first to notice his shift in demeanor. While he normally came into the kitchen every morning with a goofy grin on his face, a smile was nowhere to be seen. His head was cast down and he barely spoke a word to either Sam or Dean. Another thing they noticed was the lack of exposed skin he had. Usually, (Y/N) would walk out of his room clad in a t-shirt and shorts in the morning. That day, he wore a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks. The temperature in the bunker hadn’t changed, so it wouldn’t make sense that he was cold. If he had been, he would have complained about it for the rest of the day, yet he didn’t say a word. Instead, he silently got some coffee and sat down with his brothers at the table. He didn’t engage in conversation.

Later on, the three of them sat in the library, heads buried in books and computer screens. They would typically sit around, and talk about potential hunts or random information that they had found. (Y/N) acted the same way he did when he was in the kitchen, though. He was physically present, but nowhere near as mentally present. His head was down, the cord from his earbuds wrapped around his phone, which was sitting next to the book he had been reading. It didn’t even seem as if he was actively reading the text. It had been ten minutes since he turned the page.

Sam leaned closer to Dean, who sat next to him. “Does he seem off to you?” He asked in a low, quiet voice.

Dean looked up from his computer and glanced over at his youngest brother. He hesitated, studying him for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, something’s wrong with him. Has he said anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think it has something to do with Gabriel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Dean pursed his lips for a moment before he turned back to (Y/N). He leaned over and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. (Y/N) lifted his head to look at his brother and, for the first time that whole morning, their eyes connected. Dean noticed something almost immediately. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion. (Y/N) took an earbud out.

“Yeah?” He asked, voice low and monotone.

“Hey, man, you doing okay?”

(Y/N) looked away for a moment. “Yeah?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a bit off today.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did something happen with Gabriel?” Sam asked.

“No? I said I’m fine.”

“Ok, well, obviously you’re not,” Dean said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” (Y/N) spoke in an exasperated tone.

“(Y/N),” Sam leaned forward, palms flat on the wooden surface. “If something’s wrong, you know you can tell us, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Will you two stop fucking bugging me!?” He exclaimed.

(Y/N) slammed his book shut and shoved it away from him. Quickly, he stood, stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stormed out of the library. Sam and Dean’s eyes were attached to him until he was out of sight. Dean and Sam shot a glance at one another, both of them opening their mouths as if to say something, but decided against it before they went back to their work.

(Y/N) was numb, aside from the small annoyance that had bubbled up inside of him from his brothers’ persistence. One common trait that was distributed through all the Winchester siblings was the lack of willingness to talk about their emotions. It was an ideology that was beaten into them when they were younger and first got into hunting. Bury your emotions deep within, don’t let them show, and don’t let your enemy know your weakness. Hell, don’t let your allies know your weaknesses, either. They’ll turn their back on you if they see you at your lowest. Stay strong, hide your feelings, and don’t let anyone in, even if it’s family.

When he made it back to his room, he walked over to the small dresser that was pressed along the far wall. Beside the dresser sat his tennis shoes. He grabbed them and put them on. He walked back over to the dresser, opened up the top drawer, and rummaged around in his undergarments for a moment before he fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds. The box was slightly creased, the plastic rustling in his grasp. It had been a while since he had a cigarette. He hadn’t felt the need for them, but he could feel the stress and anxiety grumble inside of him. He needed something to clear his mind. (Y/N) placed the carton into his hoodie pocket and left his room.

As he made his way past the library archway, he was stopped by his brother’s voice.

“Where’re you going?” Dean piped up.

(Y/N) stopped in his tracks and turned towards them. “Out.”

“Out where?” Sam asked.

“Look, I’m just going to take a walk around the bunker, that’s all. Going to clear my head.”

Dean and Sam shared a look. “You sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Just need a breather is all.”

“Alright, well…don’t go wandering too far.”

“I won’t.” (Y/N) shared a small smile.

Sam and Dean returned the smile as (Y/N) turned his back on his brothers and headed up the staircase toward the front door.

The afternoon sun slithered past the canopy of oak tree branches. Orange, red, and yellow leaves shined bright, painting the dirt floor like a kaleidoscope. About half a mile from the bunker, a dead tree had fallen during a heavy thunderstorm several years prior. The trunk has since been embedded in the ground, forming a natural bench in the middle of the forest. This was where (Y/N) had gone to clear his head.

He sat at the edge of the log, back slouched, elbows resting against his knees, and hands hung limply between his legs. The smoke from his lit cig wafted upward towards the treetops. The end of the cigarette slowly withered away, a small amount of ash falling upon the autumn leaves. His eyes were cast down and glazed over, the thoughts in his mind running at a hundred miles an hour.

You’re delusional. A man? No one would ever consider you a man. You look nothing like a man. Nothing like what you want to, and you never will. You’ll always look like the girl you were born as. You’ll always be (D/N), and there is nothing you can do about it. Sam, Dean, Gabriel? They’re all lying to you. They’re feeding into your delusion because they feel bad for you. They don’t love you or support you. They’ll never see you as a man. Never have and never will.

(Y/N) lowered his head as he brought the cigarette up to his lips. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of the smoke filling his lungs, before he brought the cig away from his mouth. He tapped the end of the cig, the ash falling onto the ground. As he shifted, the sleeves of his hoodie lifted, the remnants of depressive episodes from his past peeking out through the cotton fabric. His eyes shifted to the discolored scars. He could remember how he felt when he first made the scars. The relaxation he felt afterward, the relief. It was a distraction from the pain he felt within. It was a distraction that he desperately craved.

For a moment, he looked at the end of the cigarette. It was slowly dwindling to half its original length. He shifted it in his fingers and brought it to his wrist, stopping right before the end of the butt touched his skin. He hesitated and contemplated. (Y/N) closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved the cig closer to his arm.

“Hey Sugarplum,” the voice came out of nowhere.

(Y/N) let out a startled shout, the cigarette fell to the ground as he turned toward the sound of the voice. Sitting beside him on the log was Gabriel, his signature smirk etched onto his lips. (Y/N) sighed and leaned down, grabbed the butt, brought it to his lips, and took a final drag. He then lifted his foot and put the cig out on the bottom of his shoe before he flicked the remnants onto the ground. He placed his hand on the log and exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs and creating a halo around his head.

“A little birdie or two told me you went on a walk. The little birdie also told me you weren’t feeling the best.” Gabriel said as he reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders.

(Y/N) could feel himself instantly relax at Gabriel’s touch, the tension leaving his shoulders. So much was going through his head. So many emotions beating at his heart, begging to be released, begging to be expressed. Yet something was stopping them.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, his voice soft.

The smirk was gone from Gabriel’s face, his expression turned more serious. He inched closer to (Y/N) so that their sides were pressing against one another. He pulled him close.

“You know that’s not true,” Gabriel whispered. He pressed his nose against (Y/N)’s cheek. He ran his fingers through his hair softly and soothingly. “I can hear everything going on in your pretty little head, sugar, and I know that it’s not quiet.”

Gabriel’s closeness was comforting, something that he had been craving all day. The longer Gabriel sat next to him, the more relaxed he felt, yet the demons were still scratching at the inner crevices of his mind. With the mixed feelings he experienced, it was all so overwhelming. (Y/N) recognized the familiar prickle of tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gabriel breathed as he wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s body, pulling him as close as he could, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest.

(Y/N) sniffled as he allowed the tears to fall, something that didn’t happen very often. Something he would, normally, not let himself do. Be vulnerable. Vulnerability is what gets you killed in the hunting career, and there was no time for that. Still, the warm feeling of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him made him feel at home, made him feel safe, and told him that it was okay to let himself go.

Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s back. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked quietly.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment as he clasped his hands together. He rubbed the back of his knuckles, a soothing gesture he learned from a young age. “I don’t…” he trailed and let out a sigh, shoulders slouched. “I don’t look like a man.”

“What?” Gabriel furrowed his brows.

“I don’t look like a man, okay!?” (Y/N) exclaimed and moved away from Gabriel, standing abruptly. “I mean, look at me! I’m so short and feminine! Look at my hips! Look at my face! Everything about me is wrong. Everything about me isn’t what it’s supposed to be and it’s killing me.” (Y/N)’s voice got louder, frustration evident in his tone.

The tears were freefalling, and (Y/N) did not attempt to wipe them away. Gabriel simply stared up at him, listening, a saddened expression making its way across his face.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing but a body that you hate? A body that you don’t want to be in? That you feel like you don’t belong in? It feels like my life is a lie, that I’ve just been kidding myself when I said that I could finally be the man that I always wanted to be. Everything that you or Sam or Dean have said about me, validating my emotions, supporting me through everything, was just some pathetic pity party in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, even though, deep down, I know I’m not going to look anything like I want to. I’m not going to be the man that I’ve always dreamt I’d be because I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this worthless body that I was forced to have and I can’t do anything about it. I want…”

The tears were coming faster now, his words becoming shaky, almost unintelligible.

“I want to be happy…but I look at myself and I just can’t.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to him. “(Y/N), look at me,” he reached down and cupped (Y/N)’s wet cheeks, lifting his head so that he could gaze into his reddening eyes. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He had a smile on his face.

(Y/N) sniffled. “What?”

“I see a handsome, strong, brave man who risks his life daily for the people that he loves. I see a man with a heart of gold, who would do anything to make other people happy. I see the most handsome man on the face of this planet, the most wonderful man that my father had ever created. More importantly, I see your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Yes, your soul. I see how bright, beautiful, magnificent, and glorious it is. How perfect it is. The man you truly are.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s middle. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s hard some days. You look at yourself and don’t like what you see. You feel like there’s nothing you can do to change it. That people aren’t going to see you for who you are. I hate to break it to you, sugarplum, but that’s all I see.” He chuckled deeply. “All I can see is the man you are. The man you were meant to be. And some days are going to be harder than others, you're going to beat yourself up more than you should, and that’s okay. Because, in the end, you’ll get through this. You’ll gain your confidence back. You’ll see yourself and finally say ‘This is me’, and I am going to be with you every step of the way.”

Gabriel leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s forehead.

“Because I love you. Every part of you. The parts that you like and the parts that you don’t like. I love it even more when you’re happy with yourself. When you love yourself. And even if I pop in one day and you’re dressed as an Oompa Loompa with a five-foot-tall bright green and yellow mohawk and a beard the size of Gandolf’s, then I would still love you.”

(Y/N) snorted and let out a short laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” (Y/N) shook his head. “An Oompa Loompa?”

“Hey, it’s not my place to judge if or when you decide to dress up as an Oompa Loompa.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, a smile curled into the corner of his lips. Gabriel brushed his wet cheek with his thumb.

“Feeling better?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good, I’m glad. And I’m proud of you.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows and glanced up at Gabriel. “For what?”

“For telling me how you feel. If I know anything about you Winchesters, I know that that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t. But…it felt good.”

Gabriel nodded. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against (Y/N)’s lips. When he pulled back, he stared lovingly into his eyes.

“You’re my person, (Y/N). The person that I love and care for, and if you ever feel like this again, just give me a shout and I’ll be there faster than you can get my name out of your mouth. I never want you to be alone when you feel like this. You don’t deserve to be alone through this. Promise me that you’ll call me next time you feel like this?” Gabriel’s hands trailed down from his face to his arms and stopped to grab his wrists gently. He rubbed them softly through the sleeves.

(Y/N) opened his mouth and hesitated. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Gabriel smirked and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, do you want to go back to the bunker? We can cuddle on your bed, and watch some of those terrible reality TV shows. I think I have a bit of an addiction to 90-Day-Fiance.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Do you mind if we sit out here for a little bit? It’s a beautiful day out and…I’m not quite ready to go back inside yet.”

“Of course, anything for my sugarplum,” he leaned forward, his nose brushing gently against (Y/N)’s.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered. “I love you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. You deserve the world and every beautiful thing in it.”

“I don’t want the world. All I want is you.”

“Then have me you shall. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always?” (Y/N) lifted a hand, his pinkie finger sticking out.

Gabriel smirked and chuckled. He lifted a hand, hooked his pinkie onto (Y/N)’s, and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Forever and always.”

My Dearest (Y/N),

I’m writing this, not as one of my regular notes, but as a reminder to you. I want you to pack this away somewhere safe where you can take it out and read it whenever you feel down about yourself in any way.

You are strong. You are brave. You are handsome. You are perfect. You are loved. You are you.

I know it’s hard to see yourself in a positive light at the moment, and everything may seem like it’s closing in as if nothing is going right and it will never get fixed, but, just know, you’ll make it through this. Just like you’ve done on multiple hunts, you will prevail. You will conquer the enemy, even if that enemy is yourself.

Remember, you don’t have to fight this battle alone. I’m here for you, and so is Sam and Dean. We all love you so much and we want you to be happy! We love seeing your smile when you walk into a room. You brighten our day just by being you, and nothing will ever change that.

If you need anything, anything at all, just think of me, and I will be there for you. We can watch your favorite movie and I’ll even bring you some of those little dessert cakes you like from the cafe I took you to on our first date. Even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, I want you to know that you don’t have to suffer in silence. Not while I’m around. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you go through.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

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supernaturalscribe67 · 7 months

Note

I honestly love how specific this request is because I relate to this prompt hardcore. I'd love to write this! I'm gonna add it to my queue and I should be able to get it out just in the nick of time for Halloween!

Much love!

#supernatural #spn #supernatural scribe #request

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supernaturalscribe67 · 7 months

Note

Thank you so much for writing my Gabriel request, the story is amazing!

AH! Thank you! You're so welcome! I'm so glad that you liked the story, that just made my day!

#supernatural #supernatural scribe #spn

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supernaturalscribe67 · 7 months

Text

Sucker

Words: 6,602

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (had to tell Dean to shut the fuck up a couple times), brotherly bickering

Summary: The reader is introduced to Gabriel, the famous trickster/archangel, for the first time, much to his brothers' dismay. What the reader didn't expect from their first meeting was to meet a rather handsome man with smooth talk to match. What happens when he starts to get feelings for the person that annoys Sam and Dean the most?

Request:

Do you write for Gabriel as well? If so, could you write something about maybe the reader being Dean and Sam's younger brother (the relationship was really cute in "aginst the grain" and "lucky", i'd also love ftm reader, but it's up to you if you want to make it specific or not) and Gabriel finally meets him, making the other two go kinda protective over that, it's Gabriel after all, he has messed with them a lot in the past. They'd probably go especially uneasy if Gabriel gets kinda flirty or if so does the reader.

Anonymous

A/N: Someone take my computer away from me. Once I start writing, I can't stop. This wasn't supposed to be that long but holy Hell, I guess it's this long. I hope I did your request justice and I hope I wrote Gabriel well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

(Y/N) loved having the first shower after a hunt.

The water was always hot, the perfect relaxer for his muscles that would undoubtedly ache the next day. Despite how long he had been hunting, certain aspects of the job made him feel like a rookie. Salt and burns were one example. That night, he had been tasked with helping Dean dig out the grave while Sam kept an eye out for security and any apparitions that would make a surprise appearance. For the first thirty minutes of digging the hole, he felt alive, like a rush of adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Perhaps the idea of committing a crime was to blame for that. Near the half-hour mark, he could feel the muscles in his arms beginning to strain, but the job had to be completed.

It took two hours to dig four feet to the coffin - he cursed the dry Southern weather for making the dirt so coarse - and by the end of it, his arms fell limp and weak at his sides. His legs felt some irritation from pushing the shovel into the ground, but they weren’t nearly as affected as his upper arms. He sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the next hunt didn’t involve as much manual labor. If they did run into a ghost, he at least hoped the ghost held an attachment to an object that they could easily burn. Gravedigging was the last thing he wanted to think about.

He showered for forty-five minutes, longer than he had anticipated, but the water had placed him in an exhausted trance. Truth be told, he could have fallen asleep under the shower spray. He just hoped the cheap motel held enough warm water in their tanks for his brothers to experience some relaxation.

Motel towels were always scratchy on the surface of his skin. It was annoying, but there was some relief in knowing that the rough texture would guarantee a more thorough cleaning. Despite the cheap body wash he always snagged from the local dollar store, he never felt dirty leaving a motel bathroom. Once his body was dried, he put on his boxers and an oversized t-shirt, thankful for Walmart’s wide variety of sizes so he could conceal his chest. He placed both hands on either side of the sink, staring into the steam-covered mirror. He reached up, drew a small smiley face in the center of it, and watched as the eyes and mouth dripped. The warmth of the small room was comforting, and he was finding it difficult to leave.

A loud knock rapped on the door. “You gonna spend any more time in there? If I take a cold shower, I swear to God,” Dean’s voice came in muffled through the wooden door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t get your pretty silk panties in a twist,” he grumbled, and he could practically feel his brother’s eye roll through the door.

A sigh passed his lips as he looked at the smiley face he had drawn, which looked as if it had melted away in the hot sun. He reached a hand up and wiped the remnants of the picture away. As he retracted his hand, he could see his reflection in the opaque glass. Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes, a side effect from hunting. The endless, restless nights seemed to be getting to him and aged him more than he would have liked. He groaned as he straightened up, brought a hand up to his face, and ran his fingers over his eyes, nose, and cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, instead of staring into a reflection that mirrored his presence, to his left, behind his shoulder, stood a man. Time froze. A playful smirk appeared on the man’s lips. He was short - compared to Sam and Dean, at least - with dark brown hair swept back neatly against his head. Stubble was placed along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. His sideburns were shaped with a slight point on the end of them, facing outward. He had a button-up shirt on, the top two buttons were undone to expose a small puff of his chest hair, and a dark green jacket.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he stared at the man in the mirror. The air became heavy. He could feel his presence behind him, but he wouldn’t dare turn around.

“So, you’re the famous baby Winchester?” The man raised a brow.

His voice startled (Y/N). He turned around quickly and came face to face with the stranger.

“I’m a little surprised,” the man scratched his head. “I would have thought that you would look, you know, more like your brothers.”

(Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape. The fear bubbled inside of his gut. He had no weapons on him, yet the man didn’t seem like a threat. Nonetheless, there was a strange man in the motel bathroom with him. One who just appeared out of thin air. That was cause enough for alarm. His eyes glanced towards the closed bathroom door.

The man looked at the door and then back at (Y/N). “Oh, please don’t scream.”

“Sam! Dean!” (Y/N) shouted as he rushed to the door.

The man groaned and rubbed his temples. In the same instant that (Y/N) got the door open, the man vanished. (Y/N) stumbled out of the bathroom and into his eldest brother’s arms. Dean staggered, his back pressed against the wall. Sam stood next to them, a look of worry crossing his face.

“What happened? What happened?” Dean asked with alarm in his voice.

“There’s a guy! He-he,” (Y/N) turned to look behind him, a hand lifted to point in the direction of the bathroom, but stopped himself from talking once he saw that the man was gone.

Dean looked into the bathroom, brows furrowed. He and Sam stepped away from (Y/N) and toward the open door. Dean glanced inside, checking behind the door and in the shower. Dean threw his hands up.

“What guy?” He asked. “There’s no guy here, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Dean placed his hand over his chest as he walked out of the bathroom.

“There was a guy! He just appeared behind me!” (Y/N) said.

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Sam asked, doing a sweep of the bathroom from the doorway. “It doesn’t look like anyone besides you has been in here. There aren’t any windows, so no one could have gotten in. Are you sure you’re not just tired?”

“I saw him!”

“Sure you did, kid,” Dean walked up to him and clapped his shoulder. “Maybe you should lay off the horror movies for a while.”

“Now, that’s not very nice, Dean-O. No need to tease him like that,” the voice appeared in the center of the room.

All heads turned toward the sound of the voice. The man, who had been in the bathroom with (Y/N), stood in the center of the room. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier was ever-present. (Y/N) grabbed Dean’s arm and moved closer to him. He pointed frantically at the stranger.

“That’s him! He was in the bathroom!”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel raised his arms in a presentation-type pose. “The one and only.”

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, his tone more irritated than anything.

“Gabriel? As in, the archangel Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked his tense shoulders slouching as his body relaxed.

“Again: the one and only,” Gabriel smiled. “And, to answer your question, Dean, a little birdy told me that you were in town, so I figured I would stop by, and see my favorite Winchesters. Heard the youngest was here, and I thought it was about time we met. Although, I heard that you had a younger sister. Must’ve been a mistake.”

“Yeah, that’s a mistake alright.” Dean placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, you came in, you saw us, now can you please leave?”

“Woah, woah, what happened to hospitality? Why don’t you introduce me to your brother, here?” Gabriel sauntered over towards the three of them.

“No, now get out.”

“Not until an introduction is made.”

“Gabriel, we just got off of a hunt. We need some rest, now can you please leave?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Come on, guys, it’ll get him out of here so we can go to sleep,” (Y/N) mumbled before he turned to Gabriel. He held out a hand. “(Y/N) Winchester,”

“(Y/N),” he said the name as if testing it on his tongue. He reached out, grasped (Y/N)’s hand gently in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave a small kiss on the back of it. “Gabriel. Nice to finally meet you.”

(Y/N) raised his brows, his cheeks heating up with blush. Dean rolled his eyes and swatted Gabriel’s hand away from (Y/N).

“Alright, alright, none of that,” Dean grumbled, sending a death glare toward Gabriel. “You know his name, now get out.”

Gabriel ignored him, his eyes stuck on (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), aside from being good-looking, what do you do in your free time?”

Dean and Sam both groaned and rolled their eyes, shaking their heads. (Y/N) felt his chest warm up the same as his face. He glanced down and fiddled with his fingers. Gabriel licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” He questioned.

“Well, I’m trying to think of something to say, but all I can think about is how cute you are.”

Gabriel looked at him, amused shock crossing his face. He straightened up for a minute, but, before he could say anything, Dean held his hands up.

“That’s enough,” Dean interjected, glancing at (Y/N) and then at Gabriel. “Leave.”

“But I’m having such a nice conversation,”

“Gabriel,” Sam spoke up, moving between (Y/N) and Gabriel, towering over him. His voice was low, intimidating. “Go.”

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in front of the brothers. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave,” Gabriel’s voice came from behind the trio.

They all turned around. Gabriel stood right before (Y/N), eyes attached to him. He reached behind his back for a brief moment and pulled it back around. In his hand was a red rose with a short stem, free of prickles. He held it out.

“A parting gift, for you.”

(Y/N) hesitantly took him, a small smile on his face. “Thank you,”

Gabriel shrugged. “I know it’s not as beautiful as you, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“Gabriel,” Dean warned.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Gabriel shook his head. “I hope to see you again soon, sweetheart,” He pointed at (Y/N).

“We’ll see.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room.

The room was quiet aside from the faint humming of the cheap air conditioner. (Y/N) studied the rose that Gabriel had given him. It appeared freshly in bloom, the red petals curled at the ends, the floral scent evident even from a distance. The stem was slightly wet from being cut. (Y/N) brought the flower to his nose and inhaled the intoxicating smell as he turned around to face his brothers. When he looked up, he immediately noticed the ‘if looks could kill’ gaze in their eyes.

“What?” (Y/N) asked and shrugged.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“You know,” Dean began. “I’ve stopped butting in when you flirt with someone at a bar, or when you want to take someone back to a motel. I’ve learned to shut my mouth. But Gabriel?”

“Geez, you two are acting like I’ve slept with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, brushing past them as he walked toward his bed.

“Ooo, all I can think about is how cute you are,” Dean mocked.

“Will you shut up!?”

“He’s an archangel, (Y/N).” Sam nodded. “And you see no problem with flirting with him?”

“What? I can’t flirt with who I want now? It’s not like he’s a bad guy…technically.”

Dean sighed. “He’s off limits, (Y/N).”

“I’m an adult, Dean! I can flirt with whoever I want.”

“Not an angel! I mean…come on. Don’t you remember what he did to us? To Sammy and me?”

“Look, Dean, I get it, trust me, but it was just some comments, okay? Like I said, it’s not like I hooked up with him or anything. He just flirted with me so I flirted back. Took a page out of my Dean Winchester book of flirting.” (Y/N) walked over to the bed and sat down on the side of it. “You don’t have to worry about him, okay? Now, why don’t you guys just take your showers so we can go to bed and head out in the morning.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He let out a huff as he turned to look at Sam. They stared at each other, but said nothing, as if they were talking to one another telepathically. Finally, Dean shook his head.

“Fine, but I get the next shower,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the duffel bag that sat beside the queen-sized bed opposite (Y/N).

“Dean, I called the next shower,” Sam frowned.

“Too bad, can’t get next shower if I get there first,”

Sam glanced at the door to the bathroom, his duffel bag which sat at the table, and then Dean. Dean grabbed his night clothes from his bag and began to make his way over to the bathroom. Quickly, Sam rushed to the bathroom. Dean picked up his speed and the two of them wrestled in the doorway for a moment, mumbling to one another. Sam eventually pushed Dean out of the way and slammed the door shut, the cheap wood vibrating against the frame. Dean growled.

“How the Hell are you going to get out of there without your clothes, bitch?” He called through the door.

“I’ll figure it out, jerk,” Sam’s muffled voice replied.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before he sauntered over to his bed and slouched on the edge of it. “Can you believe him?” He gestured to the door dramatically.

(Y/N) snorted. “I think you’re both idiots,” he reached down and pulled the comforter away from his body, pushing his legs underneath. “Now hush while I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Dean grumbled.

“Goodnight, Dean,”

*~*

The rumble of the Impala’s engine was silenced over the deafening sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”. Dean sang in an off-key tune as he drove, Sam tried to ignore him in the passenger’s seat, and (Y/N) blocked everything out, deep in thought as he leaned against the back passenger’s window. He was staring off into the distance, at the long line of trees and bushes they passed, but none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking about Gabriel.

It had been a week since their interaction, and, for the life of him, he couldn’t keep the angel out of his mind. He never had someone who showed as much interest in him as Gabriel, and (Y/N) hadn’t lied. Gabriel was pretty cute. Was it the way the smirk seemed permanently etched on his lips? Perhaps the way his flirtatious remarks flowed out as smoothly as they did. Maybe it was in the look in his eye when he asked to see him again.

Regardless, there seemed to be nothing that could take Gabriel off of his mind.

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s boisterous voice echoed through the car.

(Y/N) jerked his head up to look at his brother in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t even noticed the music had been turned down, now softly playing in the background.

“What?”

“Man, I’ve called your name about ten times. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, just…thinking.”

“Yeah, I know that takes a lot out of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” (Y/N) scrunched his nose as he reached over and lightly kicked the back of Dean’s seat.

“Hey! Be nice to Baby! She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah, well, she was caught in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Sam’s pretty sure we have another ghost case.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Another one?”

“Yeah, just a simple salt and burn.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently this young couple, who just bought their house, has been reporting paranormal activity at their place. The husband’s mother even came to stay with them for a little while and, while she was there, she claimed that someone pushed her down the stairs when she was going to do laundry in the basement.”

“So? Her son tried to kill her to get the life insurance money. Doesn’t sound like a ghost hunt to me.” (Y/N) said.

“Husband was at work, and so was the wife. They even have alibis and security footage to prove it.”

“Okay, so then the mother’s old and cryptic and just fell down the stairs. Old people fall down the stairs every day, that’s why Life Alert was invented.”

“She’s forty-two.”

“Jesus, how old is her son?”

“Twenty-one. His wife is twenty. High-school sweethearts according to what the newspaper says.”

“Gross.” There was a pause. “I still don’t think it sounds like our thing. Maybe we should check something else out.”

“You’re not getting out of the salt and burn, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) groaned and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed lazily over his chest. “Fine! But I’m not doing the digging. I’ll be on guard duty.”

“No,” Dean said. “I’m going to be on guard duty this time.”

“Why?” He whined childishly.

“Because I helped dig the grave the last two times. We take shifts, remember?”

(Y/N) shook his head. He placed his elbow on the window sill and put his cheek into the palm of his right hand. His forehead leaned against the glass.

He thought back to Gabriel. The carefree attitude he seemed to have, even with the intimidating act that his brothers put on. He was an archangel, of course. Thinking about it, (Y/N) knew that Gabriel could do anything with them - he had proven that when he forced Sam and Dean into the TV universe - yet he did nothing of the sort, even when Dean had slapped his hand away from (Y/N). He seemed like a good person - angel? - and (Y/N) would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again. He knew that if anyone could lighten his mood from the sour situation they were driving to, it would be Gabriel.

An arm slowly snaked its way around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He jumped, eyes wide as he turned his head to the side. Sitting next to him, in the back of the Impala, was Gabriel, the same smirk on his face that was present the first night they met.

“Heard someone needed some company,” Gabriel said.

Dean visibly jerked, his hand turning the wheel of the car violently. The Impala lurched to the side, into the oncoming lane, before he corrected himself and straightened the car out. Everyone shifted in their seats with the movement. Dean slammed on the brakes, the rubber screeching against the road as the car halted. Dean and Sam’s heads whipped around, their eyes wide with surprise. Gabriel was leaning back against the leather seats, legs slightly spread, one arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders while the other rested at his side. (Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest from a mixture of the sudden movement of the car and Gabriel’s touch.

“Woah, Dean-O. Gotta be careful. You’re lucky there’s no traffic,” Gabriel chuckled.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“A little birdy told me he was lonely. A little stressed,” Gabriel turned his head to look at (Y/N). He leaned closer to him. “Miss me already?”

Dean and Sam’s eyes shifted to their brother. (Y/N) felt the familiar heat appear in his cheeks and spread to his ears. Sam furrowed his brows.

“You prayed to him?” He asked.

“N-No! I didn’t!” (Y/N) defended.

“Wrong,” Gabriel hummed. “You know, every time you say my name in that pretty little head of yours, it comes straight to me,” Gabriel reached over and tapped on (Y/N)’s temple gently. “My prayer line has been buzzing nonstop since I last saw you.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks darkened even more. Gabriel had practically outed him to his brothers, completely contradicting what he had told them back at the motel. That they didn’t need to worry about him. That the flirty comments he made was a natural response. Now his brothers know that Gabriel had been on his mind. Now they knew that they had something to worry about.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to clear his mind. When he opened his eyes, he pointed at his brother.

“You. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Gabriel. “You. Get out.”

“Aw, come on, Dean, let me ride for a little bit. Make your brother feel better,” Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s arm.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No. Get out.” His voice was deep, dark.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go. Again.”

“Good,” Dean turned around eyes back to the empty road in front of him. His hands returned to the wheel, clenched tight enough to make his knuckles a ghostly white.

Gabriel glanced at (Y/N) with an apologetic expression before he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his clenched hand and held it towards him. As he opened his hand, (Y/N) could see a small candy heart in the middle of it, colored pink. In the center of the heart Be Mine was printed.

“Another parting gift. A sweetheart for a sweetheart.” Gabriel smirked.

(Y/N) smiled and took the heart. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sugar.”

“Leave Gabriel,” Dean bellowed.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbled. He looked back at (Y/N) and winked. “I’ll see you later.”

He snapped and, once more, he was gone.

(Y/N) glanced down towards the candy. It was one of those cheap candies that you got from Walmart when you wanted to give something out to your classmates for Valentine’s Day. Despite the cheap appearance, the message on it was worth more than anything. It validated any emotions that he had for Gabriel. The mere idea that Gabriel felt the same way as he did made his heart soar, the butterflies swarming inside of his stomach. With a small smile, he closed his hand around the heart and placed his hand in his lap.

It was then that he noticed they hadn’t resumed their drive yet. He looked in the front seat to see both of his brothers staring at them, unamused expressions on their faces. The smile (Y/N) had turned into an awkward grin, his shoulders tensed. Sam and Dean looked at one another and conversed in that telepathic communication that they always do before they wordlessly turned back to the road. Dean glanced one more time in the rear-view mirror, shook his head, and then started down the road again.

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped and he turned to the window. He placed his elbow on the window sill and his cheek in the palm of his hand.

It was going to be a long night.

*~*

I fucking hate ghosts.

His muscles hurt worse than last time. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his arms felt as if they were going to fall off. His calves ached a bit, but not nearly as bad as his biceps.

The hunt took longer than expected - most of the graves in the cemetery they had gone to were unmarked, souls long since forgotten by the people who had buried them. The records in the cemetery’s office weren’t much help, either. The three of them spent two hours trying to find the grave that belonged to the ghost, two more hours digging up the plot with major pushback from the spirit, and an extra hour attempting to leave the cemetery without getting caught - apparently, grave robbers were a common occurrence in that small Maryland town.

Even the morning after, (Y/N)’s entire body ached and was stiff. It felt like every part of him had been put through a meat grinder. When he moved, his muscles tensed and burned as if he were on the surface of a thousand suns. His brothers felt bad for him, in a way. They could see how hurt he was and decided to let him rest while they went out to get some breakfast, some greasy diner food that all of them, even Sam, desperately needed.

As (Y/N) lay in his bed, still clad in his sleepwear from the night before, to ignore the aches and pain, his mind shifted to a familiar thought; Gabriel.

The same thoughts that had been invading his mind for the past two weeks entered his head seamlessly. The thoughts of Gabriel’s words, his flirtatious tone, the way his hair was swept back, the way the corner of his lips curled into a smirk whenever he would look at him, and the glimmer that danced in his irises. While Gabriel took up most of his mind, another thing that (Y/N) couldn’t get out of his mind was Sam and Dean. He thought about their disapproving gazes, the irritation in their tone as they talked to or about Gabriel, and the shake of their heads when Gabriel finally vanished.

His brothers weren’t shy when it came to their objections. When they had gotten into town for the hunt, Sam and Dean made sure to speak out about the situation. (Y/N) felt as if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean was the one that was mostly vocal with Sam taking a back seat and butting in now and then. While (Y/N) could appreciate that his brothers were looking out for him, he stood strong on the fact that he was an adult. He could make his own decisions. Gabriel was an angel. It wasn’t as if he was flirting with a demon. He knew his brothers would have a conniption if it was Crowley instead of Gabriel. Still, (Y/N) was their little brother. He had a feeling that they were going to be protective no matter who he showed interest in.

That wouldn’t stop him from trying to pursue Gabriel, though.

In the two instances they met, Sam and Dean had been in the room with them when they talked, leaving little to no time for them to have an actual conversation or get to know one another. Granted, Gabriel must know more about him than anything, considering the lack of privacy he had in his head. That only gave him more of an incentive to learn everything he could about the archangel.

He had to talk to Gabriel alone.

(Y/N) had never prayed before. He always left his brothers to the praying when they needed Castiel involved. It was a new experience, and he didn’t even know how to start.

Slowly, (Y/N) adjusted himself on the bed so that his back was pressed against the wooden headboard. He placed his hands in his lap, slightly folded.

“Um…Gabriel…” he trailed as he tried to think of how he could continue. “Uh…it’s me. (Y/N). I think we need to talk.”

“You know, the last time someone said that to me, it didn’t end well,” Gabriel’s voice came from in front of him, near the end of the bed.

(Y/N) let out an audible gasp, startled. His throbbing muscles tensed for a moment before they relaxed, a shot of pain coursing through his body.

“Jesus, we need to put a bell on you angels,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think it’ll look good on me?” Gabriel pursed his lips and dramatically posed.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head as he chuckled. Gabriel joined him and walked over to the bed, sitting down. The bed dipped.

“I can see your bodyguards aren’t here.”

“Yeah, they went out to get some breakfast a bit ago.”

“Well, that’s good. Now I can talk to you without getting kicked out. What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“Well-”

“My handsome good looks?” Gabriel smirked.

“Uh-”

“How about my smooth talking?”

“Gabriel-”

“What about the way you get butterflies in your stomach when you’re near me?” Gabriel placed a hand on the bed and leaned closer to him.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks heat up once again. The butterflies Gabriel referenced swarmed. He looked away for a moment before his eyes shifted down towards his hands in his lap.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?” He moved his eyes to him.

Gabriel seemed surprised by the question at first, straightening himself up.

“I mean…” (Y/N) paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. “You flirted with me back at the other motel, you had your arm wrapped around me in the car, you’ve been listening to my thoughts, er, prayers, I guess. Is this just…a flirty little thing that you like to do or…are you really interested in me?”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel shrugged. “I mean, you don’t see me flirting with your brothers, do you?”

“No.”

“Casual flirting isn’t normally my thing. When I flirt with someone, I really, really like them, and I really, really like you.” His voice was deep and smooth like velvet.

(Y/N) smiled, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face, despite the bashful need to do so. “Well, I hope it helps that I really, really like you, too.”

“Oh, trust me, I can tell,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Gabriel chuckled as he reached over, his hand gently caressing his cheek. Their lips connected without another comment. (Y/N) closed his eyes and, almost immediately, melted into the kiss. He could feel a warm, tingling sensation course through his body, touching down his arms, torso, and legs. Their lips moved in sync. (Y/N) raised his hands, his fingers entangled in Gabriel’s silky hair.

(Y/N) pulled away before he wanted to, the need for air overwhelming. He stared deep into Gabriel’s whiskey eyes. It didn’t take long before that smirk reappeared. (Y/N)’s thumb gently brushed over Gabriel’s scruff.

“Your kiss is even sweeter than you are,” (Y/N) spoke in a soft tone.

“Oh, please, nothing is sweeter than me,”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.”

Gabriel leaned in and kissed him once more. He moved onto the bed so that his legs were on either side of (Y/N)’s body and he hovered over him. (Y/N) took the time to wrap his arms around Gabriel’s neck gently. They tilted their heads to the side, deepening the kiss.

(Y/N) had his fair share of kisses before, a handful of them drunken mishaps at various bars across the country, but never like the one he had with Gabriel. There was something special about it. Something that made him melt into the bed. That attracted him further to Gabriel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t going to fight it.

Although, someone might.

The door to the motel room opened. The stench of cheap breakfast food wafted into the small space as Sam and Dean entered. They froze for a moment, eyes wide in shock at what they had walked in on. It didn’t take long for them to break the trance.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as he rushed over to the two of them.

Just as they broke the kiss, Dean grabbed the back of Gabriel’s shirt, pulled him off of the bed, and pinned him against the wall. The cheap lights flickered at the force of the impact.

“Dean!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he quickly stood from the bed.

Before he could pull his brother away, Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and wrapped his arms around him protectively.

“What did I tell you about leaving my brother alone, huh?” Dean slammed Gabriel against the wall again, though he seemed completely unphased by it.

“Now, Dean, if you haven’t noticed, your brother is more than capable of making his own choices.” Gabriel’s voice was calm, almost playful.

“Yeah, with humans. Not with you.”

“Now what have I ever done to you, Dean?”

“What have you done?” Dean let out a dry laugh. “What have you done?”

“Dean! Stop! You’re gonna get the fucking cops called on us!” (Y/N) hissed between clenched teeth.

“And you!” Dean let go of Gabriel’s shirt and turned around to face (Y/N). “What happened to ‘oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Dean, it was just for fun’,” he mocked (Y/N)’s voice harshly. “And then Sam and I come in and see you sucking face with an archangel!?”

“First of all,” (Y/N) wiggled his arms out from Sam’s grasp. “Get off me,” he mumbled and pushed firmly on Sam’s chest. Sam’s feet were firmly planted, but he removed his arms from around his brother. (Y/N) backed up a couple of steps and brushed his shirt off. “I told you, Dean, I’m an adult and I can make your own decisions! And who the Hell says ‘sucking face’ anymore, anyway? What is this? 1980?”

“The point is, you told us you weren’t going to do anything and here you are…doing something!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Dean’s right, (Y/N),” Sam shook his head. “You know, we support you in everything that you do, but Gabriel?”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Gabriel appeared behind (Y/N).

“Good, I hope you do,” Dean said.

(Y/N) groaned. “You guys are acting like you walked in on me having sex with him or something! It was a kiss!”

“His tongue was in your mouth, (Y/N),” Dean spoke with a hint of disgust.

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!”

“Alright, alright, hey,” Sam held up his hands. “Look. All we want to do is look out for you, okay? It’s our job to protect you.”

“And I want you guys to keep protecting me,” (Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to. I like Gabriel, okay? I really do. And it’s not just some hook-up in-a-bar kind of feeling. It’s feelings-feelings. You know? The things we never talk about? I can’t explain it, but I feel…a connection to him. Like Dean feels with Castiel.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. I don’t feel that way with Cas.”

“Dean, we all know you do,” Gabriel spoke up, shaking his head.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t wanna hear another word out of you.”

“Look,” Gabriel began. “I’d never do anything to hurt your brother. I know I haven’t been the, well, nicest with you two. But I like (Y/N),” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d like to get to know him more, and I know that he would like to do the same.”

Sam and Dean stared at Gabriel, their eyes piercing. They never blinked, as if studying him. Sam leaned over to Dean.

“Dean, I think he’s telling the truth,” Sam spoke in a low voice.

Dean looked at Sam with furrowed brows. “Really?” His tone was defensive. “How do you know he’s not lying?”

“Dean, (Y/N) is right about the fact that he’s an adult, okay? Maybe we should just…take a backseat on this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I hate this just as much as you do, Dean, but you know that even if we disagree with is, (Y/N) is just going to find a way to see him anyway.”

“Not if we handcuff him to one of us,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m right here,” (Y/N) crossed his arms.

“The point is,” Sam said. “If Gabriel is serious, what better person besides us to protect him than an archangel? I mean, we have Cas, yes, but Cas isn’t an archangel.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but was having a hard time coming up with an argument to shoot back at his brother’s statement. Instead, he sighed as he reached a hand up and ran it down his face. He could feel a headache coming on. Silence flooded the room as the four of them stood there.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I won’t say anything about Gabriel coming around. But I don’t wanna walk in on anymore face sucking.”

“No face sucking or any other kind of sucking while sharing a room, got it.” (Y/N) smiled.

Dean shot him a look of disgust before he turned to Gabriel. “And you. If you hurt him-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fire and brimstone and pitchforks and torches. You’ll have the whole Winchester Army after me,” Gabriel waved his hands around dramatically. “I get it. You have my word that I will never hurt your brother.”

“Alright, now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Gabriel turned to (Y/N). He reached down, grabbed his hand, and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, sugarplum.”

(Y/N) snorted. “See you later, Casanova.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and vanished.

With a smile still on his face, (Y/N) turned to his brothers. “Thank you guys, really.”

“Well, we trust you, (Y/N),” Sam said. “We don’t trust him, but we trust you. And we trust that, if anything were to happen, you would come to us if you need help.”

“Of course I will. You’re my brothers. I make a mess, you guys clean it up.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’ll be the reason why I get gray hairs early in life,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the small table near the motel door, opening the bag of breakfast food which was probably cold by then.

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he walked over to him. “Oh, you mean, these gray hairs?” He reached up and brushed the back of his brother’s hairline, finger gliding through the sandy blonde hair.

Dean reached back quickly and cupped the back of his head. “What!?” He exclaimed.

Sam snorted and (Y/N) let out a boisterous laugh. Dean’s jaw clenched as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I thought so, old man.”

“You better watch it, bitch,”

“Aw, I love you, too, Dean,” (Y/N) wrapped a single arm loosely around Dean’s middle. He then motioned Sam over. When Sam was close enough, (Y/N) wrapped his other arm around him. “And I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” Sam smiled and returned the hug.

Dean looked down at his brother and mumbled something under his breath before he patted him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid.”

“I couldn’t ask for better brothers than you.”

…

“Alright, enough of the chick-flick moments. Let’s eat.”

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