ONE

"Sammy," Gabriel whined, wriggling and twisting in the sheets, grinding up against the tall young hunter. He was giggling softly, the result of far too many sickly sweet cocktails, as he pressed a sticky, wet kiss to Sam's throat. Angels didn't get drunk, Sam knew that, but for some reason fruity cocktails always had this effect on Gabriel. Made him horny and insistent and handsy. The young hunter was trying to stop him, to slow him down (albeit half-heartedly) but without much luck. Sam was strong and if Gabriel had really been the short sugar-addict he seemed then Sam could have easily got out of that limpet-like hold. But no, Gabriel was far more than he appeared to be and he had no intention of letting go.

Or toning down his amorous attentions.

And that would have been fine if they were alone. Sam would have returned the affection in equal measures, part of him -already half aroused- wanted to throw caution to the wind anyway. But they weren't alone. Dean was sleeping in the bed only a few feet away. It was amazing he wasn't awake already.

"Shhhhh Gabriel!" Sam hissed, only to be silenced with another wet kiss. This wasn't fair at all on either of the Winchester boys; on Dean because he would freak out when (not if) he woke up. And it wasn't fair on Sam because he was trying not to give in, fighting every urge that ran through his body. He fought it even as Gabriel climbed on top of him; straddling his hips, knowing exactly what to do to weaken Sam's resolve. He buried his head in the crook of Sam's shoulder, mouthing at his throat, sucking on the tender spot on his neck and began to rub their hips together. The archangel's rocking was maddening, the friction undeniably good and Sam bit back a curse, grabbing at Gabriel's hips and holding him still while he forced down his sweat pants and then turned his attention to Gabriel's boxers, yanking them down as far as he could.

Gabriel whined again, not much softer than his earlier demands. It was the feeling of the bare hot length of Sam's erection between his cheeks, Sam's fingers probing his wet, stretched hole that made him groan out with desire, mouth sealing on Sam's skin in an effort to stay at least a little quiet.

Sam was never going to get used to the archangel preparing himself like that, wet and ready and desperate for it, but right now he appreciated the gesture, his fingers sliding in and Gabriel keened, the angel's back arching as he moved on those digits. Sam would have loved to tease him, but he couldn't bear it. He couldn't wait. He eased out, and then pressed his fingers in again, hooking them and extracting another hungry noise from his angel before it was cut off, Gabriel's own fingers in his mouth as he tried to keep silent.

Sam couldn't tear his eyes from the angel, from the saliva wet skin and the red lips stretched around them, the angel's bright amber eyes lidded in pleasure. Sam felt his cock jump again, aching now and he pulled his fingers from the angel, ignoring the whimpers as he took hold of his cock, guiding the blunt head to that wet, stretched entrance. And taking a breath, he thrust into Gabriel, arching up into him and feeling the heat surround his cock, hilting himself in one smooth stroke, crying out despite himself and his nails leaving crescents in the angel's flesh. It was only made better when Gabriel began to move, lifting himself slightly and then dropping back down, riding Sam's cock and tipping back his head, Enochian tumbling from his mouth.

That was when Dean woke up. Sam was right. He did freak out.

TWO

Dean had been to fetch lunch. It was just sandwiches from the gas station, a couple of cans, but it would do. There was some excuse for salad in Sammy's sandwich because he'd only complain if there wasn't. The salad was probably the unhealthiest salad imaginable, but Sam would want it. Like there was some sort of fruit and vegetable quota he had to meet. He was a weird kid. As well as getting that for Sammy, he'd picked up something for himself too, although Dean had rolled up the glossy copy of Busty Asians rolled up and shoved it in his back pocket, deciding not to put it on show. That was for tonight. Research made Sam sleepy and that had been all he'd been doing since they'd arrived the day before, tap-tap-tapping on his laptop. Tonight he'd be out like a light and Dean would deal with... a few things. He deserved that much at least.

He stepped out of the Impala, picking up the paper-bag as he strolled towards their room. It was a beautiful crisp Fall day, the sort with crunchy leaves on the ground and a bit of a bite in the air. A perfect sort of day really. Dean cursed himself as soon as he thought that, because it was the same second that he heard a smash and a noise of pain, quickly muffled, from their room.

Demons, fucking demons! He couldn't leave Sam alone for a minute, because the bastards always came back for him, tried to claim him. Dean cursed, dropping the bag for the ground and reached for the gun tucked into his jeans. It wasn't the best weapon he could have picked, but there wasn't time to go to the car. There was better stuff in the room. He had to act fast, use the element of surprise and grab Sam and whatever weaponry they could.

He counted to three in his head, breathing deep to steady himself before rising, in one fluid fast movement and forcing the door open, gun levelled. "Get away from him, you fucking bastards," tumbled from Dean's lips, before his eyes boggled.
The Archangel Gabriel had never, ever, been depicted in leather chaps, as far as Dean knew. He was pretty sure Dan Brown would have made something of it if he had. God's Messenger wasn't shown with a nipple-clamp in each hand either, at least not in any of the churches Dean had been to. And little innocent baby-brothers should never, ever, be seen naked save for a ball-gag and a strip of duct-tape binding their wrists together.

Dean had to fight the desire to shoot Gabriel. It was one of the strongest compulsions he'd ever had. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of having to pay for Sam to see a therapist.

THREE

As soon as he's gone, I'm going to push you down on that bed and make you scream

You think you can, Gigantor? I'd like to see you try. You, on the other hand, make some amazing noises when I've got your cock in my mouth.

Sam made a slightly strangled noise, but Dean didn't look up from his episode of Dr Sexy and Gabriel was sitting on the bed, idly popping candy, watching the TV over Dean's shoulder while Sam poured over Bobby's books on Tsi-noo. He'd not got much research done, but that wasn't his fault.

I knew you'd like that, Sammy. You love it when I lick you. You like it even more when you've got something inside you too. I know you're thinking about it. About something vibrating and pulsing inside of you. It can be arranged. Just one click. Just say the word.

I say that you should get Dean out of here right now.

That isn't the word. As punishment for not knowing the word, I think I'm going to make you squirm first. On my fingers and on my tongue. Slide my fingers into you while I suck your cock, would you like that? Of course you would. Maybe I'll let you come like that. Maybe I'll make you wait till I'm riding you.

Gabe, seriously. Set fire to the Impala. I don't care. Just get him out of here.

Dean shifted then, and Sam thought that Gabriel had done something, had really set fire to the car even if there wasn't yet the smell of burning rubber in the air. But Dean only stretched, and then turned to lean over the back of the couch.

"If you two don't think I can't hear you, you're morons." He said, just as Sam's phone vibrated against the table again. His younger brother at least had the decency to look embarrassed. But Gabriel was just watching him, staring at him, and Dean suddenly felt like an intruder.

"Fine! Fine! I'm going to a bar." He growled, getting up and grabbing his jacket. "Get on with it."

FOUR

Castiel's mouth was on his, wet and unpractised, sloppy really but Dean didn't care about that. He was more concerned with the bare chest against his own, the feel of skin on skin and the way that Cas pressed against him in the sheets. They were tangled together, naked and all Dean could hear was his blood pumping in his ears and Castiel breathing his name as they rutted together.

He was close. The skin between Castiel's thighs was hot, and Dean thrust again, loving the feel of it and the way Castiel's cock was leaking between them, pre-come pooling on his stomach. There wasn't much light in the room, but Dean didn't need it. He could feel Castiel suddenly tense against him, his body quivering and his eyes closing as he took in a deeper breath and-

"Oh fuck Gabe!" Sam's voice echoed around the motel room's four walls.

There wasn't a more effective mood killer in the entire world.

FIVE

Sam hadn't stopped pacing for the last half hour. Before then he'd tried to read, but Gabriel knew that he'd just been staring at the laptop screen and had probably read the same few lines at least a hundred times. Before that, he'd been pacing again, but up and down the room, not across it. Variety was the spice of life, as they said, and Sam was getting his daily-dose of restlessness. Gabriel was tired just watching him, and had settled on eating a banana sundae to keep his energy up.

Gabriel got it. He really did. Sammy was worried about his brother. But the fact was Dean had been cursed by something, and was out-cold. He was alive; Gabriel could feel that without having to touch the human. Someone like Dean just radiated their existence, and even with the sigils on his bones it didn't change. But everything they'd tried had no effect and Gabriel was just happy to play the waiting game until it wore off. It wouldn't be more than a couple of days, and the archangel had joked that Dean would probably appreciate the rest. Sammy hadn't laughed. The atmosphere had got a little thicker after that, and Sam's mood had just got worse and worse and worse.

He'd moved to the bed, checking on Dean's pulse again, forcing his eyes open, felt his brother's breathing, checked him over in case there were any marks on him that would help identify the curse and help them break it. Sam had done it about a million times over the last day or two and it was really beginning to get on Gabriel's nerves. Dean was alive, he was comatose, but alive, and Sam just worried too damn much. "Look, Sammy, he'll be fine. He's been unconscious before. Granted, not for this long, but..." Gabriel tried, but Sam just went back to his pacing. Wrong tactic.

"Yours truly couldn't keep him down, come on! He's just having a snooze. A siesta! A nap!" Hmmm. Mentioning Dean's multiple deaths was still a sore point, according to the glare that Gigantor gave him this time.

Well, this wasn't getting them anywhere. He clicked, disappearing from the room and Sam turned on his heel, all his fear and worry and distress suddenly finding a vent. "Yeah, that's it! Fuck off! You're never here when we need you! You're a useless-"

And then Gabriel was back, an eyebrow raised as he set the fancy transparent salad bowl down on the table. Sam clearly felt a little stupid, but all the man did was lift his chin, standing firm and not apologising.

So that was the way he was going to play it, was it?

Gabriel squared up, setting his jaw and Sam would have laughed, mirthlessly, but Gabriel seemed bigger than his five-foot-something self. He seemed taller than Sam, broader in shoulder and for a second the room got darker, as if something was blocking out what little light passed through the dirty motel windows.

"You, Sasquatch, better watch your mouth." Gabriel warned. "Because it's going to get you in trouble. Now I told you that Dean-o will wake up, and he will. You should listen to me; because I know a hell of a lot more about this stuff than you do." He couldn't help shoving Sam a little, because he was allowed to get angry too. He had more right to be angry than any of them. Especially at Sam. He'd done so much for him, tried to help him and maybe Sam hadn't liked his methods but he got over it. Sammy just bitched about life and then went back to traipsing around after Dean who was going to get all of them killed if he didn't start learning how to think. Sammy was smarter than this, was better than this. He could have tried college again, gone somewhere that wasn't Stanford, got himself out of the way and then Gabriel would never have to see him get hurt, get killed because he was messing around with stuff that humans should never have been part of. Gabriel had lost too many things he loved and... Gabriel shoved again, harder this time, realising him smacking him hard in the Grace. The movement a manifestation of his annoyance, and in that moment he forgot his own strength and Sam was forced up against the thin motel wall by the force of Gabriel's hands.

Gabriel was tempted to shove him all the way through the damn plasterboard, into the room beyond, until he saw those eyes. Dean went on and on and on about Castiel's eyes, but Gabriel had no idea why. Sam had the most stunning eyes in the universe. And right now they were as wide as saucers, hurt and frightened, as if he'd just realised that Gabriel was a monster. And Gabriel would have been a monster, if he hadn't felt anything but instantly guilty for what he'd done. Sammy wasn't just some fuck buddy, he knew that know. Sammy was... well, Sammy was special. Probably the most important human ever, since creation.

He moved his hands to Sam's cheeks, stroking gently, until the fright went away, muttering in English and Enochian and languages that Sam couldn't identify, but felt comforting and calming and it was only a few moments later when they leant closer, mouths catching and dancing, Gabriel catching Sammy's lower lip between his own.

It was maybe a minute before Sam started striping Gabriel of his clothes, flipped them around and forced Gabriel up, locking the angel's legs around his hips and grinding them both together, declarations of love filling the air around them.

Dean felt like he'd been hit by a piano. He had been, once, but he didn't remember that. So, he guessed, this was what being hit by a piano might feel like. He also had a splitting headache. And his mouth tasted like dirt. He groaned, the pounding feeling in his skull morphing, evolving and as he lay there, the ceiling slowly coming into focus. The noise wasn't in his head. It was outside. And so he sat up, and rubbed at his face. "Sam-" He began, and then pulled his hands away from his eyes.

And then he wished he hadn't.