Work Text:
In Which Poker Totally Counts as Gaming
There was exactly as much teasing as he thought.
Dean bided his time for two days. He didn’t say a word about Gabriel squishing into Sam’s side of diner booths or the way they suddenly had high-speed wireless internet everywhere they went. When they checked into motels to find improbably large beds and Jacuzzi tubs he just laughed. He didn’t even appear to notice when Sam cautiously started returning the archangel’s incessant flirting. Other people might have relaxed. Sam knew his brother too well for that. If he was really as casual as he’d been acting there would have been at least a few raunchy comments. There was a punch coming, and it was going to be a doozy.
Saturday night they were sitting around Bobby’s table playing poker. Dean was sharing a hand with Castiel, trying to explain how bluffing wasn’t a mortal sin. Bobby kept scratching his beard and grumbling about letting Tricksters deal. Sam was trying to focus on his cards. They were pretty good, but he couldn’t think clearly with Gabriel’s hand rubbing his knee under the table. The fingers kept straying to the inside of his leg and back, a teasing caress that had him pretty sure this was going somewhere. Certain parts of him were getting interested in it, anyway.
He took advantage of a dispute over whose turn it was to get beer to lean closer to Gabriel. “Knock it off.”
Amber eyes gleamed at him. “You like it.”
“Yeah, a little too much,” he shot back. “I’m gonna have to stand up at some point, Gabe. Cool it.”
Gabriel smirked but obligingly returned his hand to the table. “Gentleman, if I may?” He snapped. Fresh beers appeared in front of each of them, along with a heaping plate of frosted walnut brownies. He took an enormous bite of one. “Mmm. Just like Mom used to make.” They all stared at him, and he amended, “Well, someone’s mom anyway. You gonna ante up or what, Dean-o?”
Castiel frowned. “Statistically, I’m not sure-”
“Yes, thank you for the analysis, Cas,” Dean cut in, tossing a pair of chips into the center. “I’m in. Bobby?”
The older man sighed and threw his own chips in. “I’m an idiot for staying in, but give me two.”
Sam looked down to hide his smile. Bobby bitched about his hand whether it was bad or good. “Just the one, Gabriel.”
“Two for me.” Dean stuck the new cards into his hand. “Hey, been meaning to talk to you about this, Bobby. Seeing as you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a father.”
Sam’s shoulders tensed. Here it came. “Dean…”
“What are you idjits up to now?” Bobby asked warily. “It better not involve demon blood or crossroads deals.”
The older Winchester stared at his cards as though they had his complete attention, but his mouth was twitching. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Remember how you were the one who gave us the ‘birds and the bees’ talk?” Now he grinned at his brother. “You might want to give Sam that ‘bees and the bees’ talk you gave me a few months later.”
Bobby snorted and dropped his cards. “I ain’t blind, Dean, and Sam’s old enough to Google. I’m sure he can sort it out.” He fixed a stern eye on Gabriel. “And if he runs into trouble, I got a few more gallons of holy oil around here somewhere.”
“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?” The archangel sounded delighted. “Thousands of years on earth and I’ve never been threatened by anyone’s daddy.”
Sam slammed a poker chip down with unnecessary force. “Way to make me feel like the girl in this, Gabriel.”
“There is no girl in this, Sammykins. I mean, unless you ask reeeally nicely-”
“I don’t understand,” Castiel interrupted, looking from one of them to the other. “Why does Sam need to know about bees to pursue a romantic relationship with Gabriel?”
“It’s a saying, Cas.” Dean put a brownie on a napkin and shoved it in front of the angel. “I’ll explain later.”
Gabriel snagged the brownie before his brother could take a bite. “Finally. Pics or it didn’t happen.”
Sam choked on his drink and had to lean back to keep from spraying the table. Beer ran down his chin onto his shirt. Bobby got up to find a dishcloth. Castiel just looked bewildered and slightly annoyed. “I believe I’ve mentioned how unhelpful it is when you speak in metaphor.”
“That particular metaphor is not getting explained at my poker table,” Bobby said. He handed a towel to Sam, who wiped at his sticky face. “Dean, take it easy on your brother.” He gave the younger Winchester a sidelong look as he sorted his cards. “It’s not like he has any luck with ladies. Maybe he needs to change teams.”
Sam groaned. “Not you too, Bobby. I’m not changing teams. I’m just-”
“Switch hitting?” Dean suggested wickedly. He took the last brownie from under Gabriel’s fingers and set it firmly on Castiel’s napkin. “Listening to AC/DC? Washing your colors with your whites? Mowing both sides of the fence?”
His brother snapped him in the cheek with the wet towel. “You definitely made up at least two of those.”
“You knew what I meant.” The elder Winchester took a long, satisfied swig of his beer, then raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. “What are you staring at?”
Gabriel was staring, looking from Dean to Bobby with a strangely pensive expression on his face. He put his hand back on Sam’s knee as though seeking reassurance. “You. All of you. I’ve never dated anyone whose family I knew. I mean, except for Kali and look how that turned out. Things got pretty bloody.”
Without thinking too much about it Sam put a hand over Gabriel’s. He liked it there, liked the slightly-too-warm feel of Gabriel’s skin. “Relax, will you? My family only kills monsters.”
“And angels.”
“Yeah, but only the dick angels,” Dean said. He was watching Castiel eat the brownie in small, careful bites. “That means I only get to toast you if you hurt my brother.”
Sam wanted to bang his head on the table. “Seriously, stop. You’re making it weird.”
Castiel made a little ‘aha’ noise and set the half-eaten brownie down. “I understand now. You threaten Gabriel as a way of reminding him of the consequences of careless behavior during his courtship of Sam. This is a family thing.” He gave Sam a grave look, the angelic kind he’d used when he barely knew them, and said seriously, “Samuel Winchester, my Grace is once more connected to the full power of Heaven. If you deliberately cause harm to come to my brother, I will unmake you and spread your soul so far and wide that no one will be able to raise you.”
There was a stunned sort of silence around the table. Sam’s mouth went dry as a bone, and the hand he put out to grab his beer shook the slightest bit. “Damn.”
Gabriel let out a delighted peal of laughter, confident again. “My brother’s scarier than yours, Sam-a-lam. You’d better do right by me or you’re getting unmade.”
“No one is getting unmade,” Dean said gruffly. “Cas, it’s supposed to be an empty threat. The most you do is maybe punch them in the face or throw them up against a wall.”
The angel tilted his head in confusion. “This is very complex. Perhaps I should listen to this bee talk Bobby plans to give Sam.”
An image of Castiel watching intently while the bearded hunter explained about condoms drifted to the front of Sam’s mind. He coughed into his hand, trying to stifle his amusement. Imaginary Cas put a hand up to ask a question and Sam’s cough sounded more like a choked giggle. Imaginary Bobby sighed, pulling out a banana, and Sam was lost. He fell sideways against Gabriel, laughing so hard he couldn’t speak. Gabriel ruffled his hair, a smile plain in his voice. “You three are missing quite the show in this hairy noggin.” Real-life Bobby snarled something, expression appalled, and that made Sam laugh harder.
It took a good five minutes for him to relax into wheezing chuckles. By then his ribs ached, his face streamed tears, and he’d half collapsed onto Gabriel’s shoulder. The man straightened, wiping at his face with the mysteriously dry dishtowel. When he could see again he found everyone smiling at him. “What?”
Dean handed him a beer to replace the one he’d knocked over in his hilarity. “Just good to see you laughing, Sammy. Been a while.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable as always with displays of emotion. “While you were giggling like a schoolgirl Bobby cleaned the rest of us out. I guess I expected Gabe here to win.”
“I told you, Dean-o, I don’t cheat at poker with friends.”
“Yeah?” The hunter raised an eyebrow. “Then what does Sam have?”
Sam schooled his features to casual disappointment. He tapped the five aces into a neat pile and set it face down on top of the deck before heading towards the living room. “Not a lot. If you’re all bust, why don’t we put on a game? I think the Red Wings are playing tonight.”
There was a creak behind him, then the slide of cardstock. Dean snorted. “Stacking the deck for your boyfriend is still cheating, candy boy.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Dean,” Sam called over his shoulder.
He turned around and nearly walked straight into Gabriel. The archangel poked him, a playful gesture with a heated undertone of accusation. “I’m wounded, Samsquatch. If I were just after your body, don’t you think I’d have it by now?”
Sam felt his mouth drop open in surprise. He’d been taking this whole thing one day at a time. Being into a guy, vessel or not, was taking up most of his attention. It hadn’t occurred to him that Gabriel would have any sort of… intentions. He dug around for something intelligent to say. “Um. I didn’t think… I mean, we don’t really do anything except-”
“Except sit around with your family, holding hands and watching movies?” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “We’re like a middle school couple.”
Sam rubbed his neck. Whatever Dean might say he was a red-blooded American male. He’d thought long and hard about sleeping with Gabriel, so much so that he’d wake covered in sweat with the archangel’s name on his lips. More than once he had to sneak off to the bathroom without waking his brother. The things he imagined… well, sleep had very little to do with it.
Somehow he hadn’t thought about what they’d do when they were both wearing pants.
The last few days had been pretty great, almost cozy. There were enough people around for card games, someone to fill out a diner booth so Sam didn’t feel like a third wheel in his brother’s unspoken love story. The semi-reformed Trickster had some great stories, too. Miles passed unnoticed while he told them about inventing the toga party or Alexander the Great’s third nipple. Gabriel was just plain fun to be around when he wasn’t bent on teaching someone a lesson. He could also be sweet, like when every place they stopped had Sam’s favorite salad dressing and organic produce. Hell, maybe they were dating and Sam just hadn’t figured it out yet.
So. What would a normal person do at this point? Sam looked around for inspiration, and his eyes fell on a newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “Movie times.”
Blond eyebrows shot up. “Movie times are our problem?”
“No, the solution.” He grabbed the newspaper, rifling through to the entertainment section. “Let’s go to a movie. It’s a normal, adult coupley thing.”
“Sam Winchester, are you asking me on a date?”
More comfortable now that he was in familiar territory, Sam nodded. “Maybe I don’t have a lot of experience with the, uh, physical side of dating guys, but dating’s got to be the same, right?” He tapped the bemused archangel on the nose with the paper. “So. Tomorrow night, seven o’clock, action comedy followed by ice cream at that new place by the theater. You in?”
Gabriel’s lips curved in a small, pleased smile. “I’m in.” The smile grew into a more typical smirk. “I’m off to get some beauty rest. See you tomorrow, Sammich.” He disappeared with a snap. Sam stood grinning into the space where’d been, feeling better than he had in years. He jammed his hands in his pockets and found them full of Skittles. Every one was pink or green, his favorite flavors. Sam stared, momentarily dumbfounded, then popped the candy in his mouth with a laugh.
At least he wasn’t going to be bored.