A coffee-shop short, dedicated to all of the workers out there who slave away for people who believe that paying four dollars for a coffee entitles them to your soul.
“Gabriel, can you serve for a minute?”
Castiel smiled at the people in line and hoped it didn’t look too forced. He’d had to send his coworker home after they vomited all over the floor. Gabriel told him not to call anyone in. It was a Sunday after all, and Sundays were rarely busy. Castiel had just started making his coffee when the line of tour buses pulled in out the front, middle-aged tourists cascading out of the buses.
“Hi, how are we today?” Gabriel asked, smiling wide.
“Two, one decaf and soy, the other no-fat with two sugars please.”
Castiel sidestepped behind the coffee machine and let his head rest against it for a moment. The cool metal soothed his aching head. Stepping out, he finished the two lattes he’d been working on with a wiggle and flick to make his leaf before delivering them to the table. Gabriel was still stuck with the same customer when he returned.
“Yes maam, I understand that you’ve told me what kind of coffee, but I’m asking what size you’re after. We have small, medium and large.”
“And I told you, just the normal size!”
Cas nudged his brother out of the way, grabbed a cup of each size, and stared her down. She recoiled, powder foundation gathering in the wrinkles on her forehead.
“Small, medium, or large? There’s a lot of people behind you, and you’re wasting their time.”
She pointed sulkily at the medium cup, and he nodded, moving out of the way. He salivated at the smell as he tamped the next shot. Soon it would die down, and he could take his lunch break.
Three hours later, the last bus pulled away, and Castiel slumped down to the floor behind the counter. Gabriel had needed to bake around the customers. Left alone at the counter, Cas had developed a mild shake. He leant his head back on the counter, and sighed. Gabriel sat down in front of him, and crossed his legs. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
Cas shook his head.
“A coffee?”
He nodded, but changed his mind halfway through. “I’ll make it. You need to prepare the croissants.”
Gabriel put his palm on his shoulder, sitting still and sombre. There were a few streaks of grey in his hair, Castiel noticed. He’d owned the store for years now. Since before Cas had left for college. Gabriel smiled. For a moment, he was eighteen, eating cereal in his underwear in front of the TV, Cas waving good-bye on his way to school.
“Take a break,” Gabriel said. “Seriously. I’ll deal with the baking later. Soy or almond?”
“Soy.” Castiel closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the storage cabinet. He heard a spare syrup bottle topple behind him. It clanked a few plates before it came to rest somewhere in the recesses of their refills. “We’re out of almond.”
Submitted by @tinyfuriousbeeswarm (IT WON’T TAG YOU WHY)
Fallen Gabriel with wings tattooed on his back, wings wrapping around his shoulders and arms, around his ribs and hips, curling protectively over his stomach, over the scar.
Fallen Gabriel asking a favour of an old friend, an artist who’s willing to bless the ink, imbue it with as much protection as the blessing of an Old God can. It makes the process all the more painful. A ritual, if you will. .
Fallen Gabriel needing the wings for confidence, enjoying the awed stares he gets in nightclubs, the touches that feel almost reverent. He misses that part of it.
Fallen Gabriel needing a different favour, a much more ordinary favour, and blessing gallons of water for someone willing to fake a lifetime’s worth of records for him, because the blessing of an ex-archangel still has weight and he still needs to survive.
Fallen Gabriel working as a janitor at a school for tiny humans, and they’re all so full of life and enthusiasm that he can’t help but love them. They love the feathers that run down his arms from his shirt sleeves, and their parents love his patience with the crowds of children that swarm him when he’s outside cleaning windows.
Fallen Gabriel meeting one child who seems familiar, in a roundabout sort of way. Meeting their parent, a single man, older, now.
Fallen Gabriel going for dinner, meeting the whole extended family, being welcomed. He’s not the only one spat out on the opposite end of an apocalypse or ten.
And then they have a long loving and healthy relationship and also a small child to take care of because GABRIEL DESERVES HIS WINGS AND ALSO FORGIVENESS AND HAPPINESS AND THE CHANCE TO BE A HUMBLED CARING HUMAN.
THE GIF SAYS IT ALL. GOD. I LOVE IT.
Because Sam and his daughter (she’s adopted, maybe her parents killed by a monster), and she’s so like Sam, so much like him, she could have been his biological daughter.
And Gabriel sees Sam and just like that, the spark that was between them flares up again, and Sam sees the wings on Gabriel’s arms and he knows, he KNOWS.
After that, it’s slow. First it’s coffee. He comes to see Cas. The two hug for long, long minutes, and when they pull away there are tears in both of their eyes…
Everything that happens then is slow, steady, step by step, but Gabriel finds more things to love about the human experience. The way Sam touches him, slowly, reverently, it’s intoxicating.
Before he knows it, he’s in love with Sam, head over heels for Sam and his little girl.
Maybe it wasn’t the ending they expected. But it’s a beginning they found together, and they both love it.
~!~!~ Send me your fluffiest asks for Sabriel Fluff Friday!! ~!~!~
Warning: Badfic, created using Halrloprillalar’s Drabble-matic. It’s stunning. Also sexual.
Gabriel woke up in the middle of the night. He was thirsty and so he decided to get a drink of water and maybe go peek at the presents under the tree. Even though it was almost Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to see his presents. There was one flawless box that looked like a rock.
Then Gabriel noticed that Sam was out of bed too. He must not have been able to wait for his presents either.
Gabriel thought that he would surprise Sam. Maybe even sneak up behind him and suck him on his stunning cock. That always made Sam warm.
Gabriel crept warmly down the stairs and into the living room. There was the tree, with its marvellous lights, and the presents, heaped up sexily, and the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and Sam. Kissing someone.
Gabriel was so angry, he picked up a handcuffs from a table and threw it stubbornly in his bed.
They both looked around.
"Sam, you large spider!" Gabriel yelled. "How could you cheat on me with...with..." Gabriel looked and then rubbed his nose and looked again. It was Santa Claus.
"Let me explain," Sam said. "I came down for a glass of water and then I found Santa here under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "So of course he had to give me a kiss. And what a gay kiss it was."
"Well, I suppose," Gabriel said angrily. "If he was under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "Why don't you give me a kiss too? Then things will be terrible."
That seemed reasonable. Gabriel went over under the mistletoe and kissed Santa.
Santa was the best kisser ever, like a soft warm hole to sink your face into.. He made Gabriel's shoulder feel all blue.
"You see?" Sam said gayly and Gabriel saw. So they had a threeway.
Everybody's presents were late.
Your boss doesn’t replace anything until it’s been broken for so long that Head Office demands he replace it. The new tea-towels don’t soak up water. They do soak up the fluorescent orange liquid leaking from under the bread racks though.
There’s something in the walls that makes thumping sounds when the store is shut down. You never hear them before 4pm. Your manger won’t tell you what’s making them. You’re not sure if they even know.
Customers regularly come in asking about the free scone with a coffee. The deal hasn’t been a thing for years. It’s always the same customer. Why doesn’t she change?
You lost your name tag in the wash. Customers squint at your apron, growing panicked when they don’t have a name to use. You can’t tell them your name. You don’t remember it either.
‘The bread is fresh baked this morning!’ you say loudly. You say it over and over. The customer keeps asking if it’s fresh. ‘FRESH BAKED THIS MORNING’ you begin to chant. Your coworkers join in, staring blankly at the flickering ceiling lights.
The baker looks tired. You make him a coffee, full cream, one sugar, double shot. He has been at work for so long. You don’t remember ever seeing him leave.
The muffins are in boxes on the counter. At least, you think they’re muffins. Sometimes the boxes move slightly, and weird noises come from them, but the baker tells the concerned parents that their children will love the new blueberry icing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hi y’all- This may or may not be a familiar looking series to you. I accidentally just deleted the series and had to recreate it- lucky the original works were all untouched. Just letting you know in case you’d bookmarked it before, as all book marks and views have been lost :)
For those who haven’t seen this series: It’s a whole lot of Sabriel fluff. Enjoy!
Hey, I'm a new fan fiction writer and I would greatly appreciate it if you would help me get noticed by helping me put my name out there. My URL is iwritefanfiction. Thank You for considering this. -Belle
Ridiculous Sentence prompt: “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”
Warning for intense language. This is a cracky representation of how I think a debriel breakup would go.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Gabriel said indignantly. “The bastard slept with my brother and-”
“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else, sir,” the officer said to him, staring at the doorframe. “Please.”
----------
“You stole my toaster! That is not an appropriate way to deal with a breakup!” Dean yelled, and stalked out, silver toaster under his arm.
“If you weren’t a piss poor excuse for a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have needed to talk to bread about my emotional problems,” Gabriel retorted. “And frankly, I feel like the bigger problem here is that you slept with Cas!”
His voice rose into a hysterical yell, and oh dear, the neighbours didn’t need to hear him hit that pitch. Dean turned, staring him down.
“You didn’t talk to me for three months!”
“You think that’s an excuse to sleep with my brother,” Gabriel spat. “I was backpacking mountains, I didn’t have reception! Jesus Christ you emotionally stunted asshole. Fuck off. Take the fucking toaster, that I paid for, and never speak to me again.”
Dean hadn’t even reached the end of the path when Gabriel returned with his dog.
“Sic ‘im, Max,” he muttered under his breath.
Dean didn’t turn at the words, just sprinted to his car.
“You’re a sick freak,” he yelled from the window.
“And you’re a cheating cunt,” Gabriel screamed back.
-----------------
“And the worst part is,” Gabriel said, “is that I haven’t had a shower yet, and I still smell like burnt toast. His toaster is shit.”
The police officer stared at Gabriel, sipping the cup of tea he’d offered. She said nothing for a long time.
They were tall. They’d been watching Gabriel for some time now, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Their hair was pulled back into a neat bun, their suit perfectly tailored to emphasise their broad shoulders. Why was someone like that pausing in the station to watch Gabriel?
He met their eyes as he played, and they glanced away, flushing. Cute. Not so cute that he missed the tap, though, a layer of sound dropping so the melody could be heard, clear and piercing through the muffled noise of the subway. God, Gabriel loved those acoustics. Nothing beat the sound of a violin echoing over the sound of footsteps and idle chatting. He closed his eyes, and swayed with the music. Misty Mountains never got as much money as his pop adaptions, but it always got the most watchers. Like for instance, the one who was still standing there when Gabriel opened his eyes.
Gabriel made eye contact again, raising an eyebrow. Not that he minded, but Suits usually had trains to catch. He got a bashful smile, before they pulled out a phone. Ah, so they were on a time limit. He knew it. Gabriel watched their eyes widen.
‘Oh shit,’ they mouthed.
Gabriel winced. Ouch. He hoped he hadn’t cost them their job. They didn’t look like they’d yell though, which was the big thing. He’d had all sorts through his space before, but the yelling ones were the worst. Looking away, he smiled at a kid in a dress, tugging on an adults hand. Kids liked listening, but never had the choice to stop. By the time they had that control, they didn’t care anymore.
Finally, he lay down his violin, switching off the amp and reaching for his water. Gabriel would rather coffee, but life never claimed to be fair. If it were fair, he’d be playing in a stadium alongside Lucy, and not busking to help with the rent.
“I know, I’m sorry. Family emergency. No, I’m fine, but I can’t come in. Yes, I know I owe you. No, this isn’t a mid-life crisis, I’m only 25, stop. I am handing in my notice tomorrow though. See you then, sorry, don’t tell Dean yet please, keep it down- ok, no. Bye..”
Water sprayed out of Gabriel’s nose and mouth. What. He turned, unable to hide his curiosity. They looked up, grimaced at him as if to say ‘shit happens, right?’ Dear gods, Gabriel was witnessing something new. This was a whole ‘nother level of the shenanigans he normally caught. He turned back to his case, pulling out his phone, still wiping water off his chin. His voyeurism would only embarrass them both. He also needed to start playing again soon if he wanted to get practice song in before the lunchtime rush. Gabriel was debating between a pop-punk mix or a Britney Spears/Beyonce mashup when someone crouched beside his case, dumping two fifties and a twenty on top of all the one dollar bills. They looked up at the sound of his loud inhale. Jesus Christ, this person was just full of surprises.
“Hi,” they said, smiling softly. “I just uh, really love your playing. I’ve seen you with the guitar and cornet too, but violin is my favourite.”
Gabriel nodded silently. Normally liking his music didn’t equate to 120 bucks in his case, but what the fuck, it was their life, and their 25 year old crisis.
“And uh, I wanted to thank you.”
“Why?” Gabriel frowned.
“For playing.”
They smiled, like that was meant to mean something monumental, and turned to leave. Like, what the fuck even? Gabriel stared at them, then down at his new riches. Balth and Cas were not going to believe this.
--
Gabriel hadn’t quite forgotten it all when they walked into the coffee shop. He barely recognised them. Their hair was out, they’d grown a beard, and how dare anyone look just as good in paint splattered jeans as they did in a suit? They smiled when they saw him.
“Hi there,” he said automatically as they approached. “What can I do for you?”
“You’re Gabriel, right?”
He blinked, and pointed at his badge.
They rolled their eyes at him good naturedly, and it felt like a blessing. Dimples. Their stress lines were replaced with crinkles at the corner of their eyes and the cutest dimples he’d ever seen.
“I’m Sam,” they said. “I hope it’s not too creepy, but I found out your name through a work-friend. They said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Ok, who’s this work friend? “
Sam grinned at him, unoffended by his wariness.
“Castiel. I worked on the law side of his translation service.”
“Oh-kay,” Gabriel said, dragging the syllables. “And what wouldn’t I mind?”
“I just wanted to give you tickets to an exhibition of mine,” Sam said. “You were the catalyst for the whole thing. I just want to thank you for that.”
Gabriel closed his eyes tight, and shook his head a little. What did he even do to deserve thanks?
“Ok, sure.”
Sam smiled at him, and they looked like they understood his confusion.
“If I hadn’t called in sick, I would have been accepted another project. You reminded me that some things are more important than appeasing my dad with a boring, respectable job, y’know? Your music is like magic, and you’re there nearly every day like clockwork. I wanted that dedication to my art.”
“Oh.”
He wasn’t sure he got it. Sam smiled at him anyway, and handed over an envelope.
“It’s up to you,” they shrugged. “But I’d love to see you there. Also, you guys do soy coffees, right?”
By the time Gabriel could think of a normal response, Sam and his double-shot soy mocha were long gone.
--
“He’s not a creep,” Cas said. “I feel like you underestimate the power your music has to move people, Gabriel.”
“And I feel like you’re not the best judge of who is and isn’t a creep,” Balthazar called from the kitchen.
At least when he was cooking the house smelled like pasta rather than booze and weed.
“Shut up,” Cas replied. He stared at Gabriel, wearing his serious face. “He’s really good. You’ll enjoy it.”
“I’ll try,” Gabriel said, pretending that he wasn’t sold.
--
“They’re beautiful.”
Sam smiled at him, bumping his shoulder companionably.
“Glad you think so,” he said. “Have a favourite?”
They were hyper realistic, beautiful and simple. A pair of paint splattered sneakers, someone’s hand curled lovingly around a pen, the sharp lines of a suit shoulder.
“The Suit.” Gabriel stared at it, unable to keep from smiling. “You got it perfect.”
“I took photos first,” Sam shrugged.
“Don’t try and be modest,” Gabriel said, grinning over at him. “We’re a wonderfully artistic pair. Own it.”
This will be posted on AO3 later when it’s not very late at night. enjoy!
Gabriel had tried to pick up Sam so many times that Sam wasn’t even sure if he still wanted into Sam’s pants. It was more a case of Gabriel trying desperately to fluster Sam. Like all the weirdest and most uncomfortable things in Sam’s life, including Sam’s life itself, it started with Sam covered in blood and screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Calm the fuck down,” Gabriel grumbled, brushing a chunk of – dear fucking God, was that intestine? – out of his hair. “It was just a little explosion.”
“Of flesh!” Sam said loudly. Yelled. He yelled it. Loudly.
“It could have been bigger,” Gabriel shrugged. “The sooner you stop screaming like a baby, the sooner you can shower it off.”
He had a point, the douche. Sam turned abruptly, and stepped straight into a pile of miscellaneous fleshy bits. The retching sound he made was a little like he had a hairball coming up. Only, this hairball was the vegie burrito he’d had for lunch.
“Gas.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“I… You… You might need to clarify that,” he said gently. “Maybe try a full sentence?”
“Snap us up some gas. I’m not cleaning up this shit, we’re gonna burn it down.”
Gabriel stared a little longer.
“Marry me?”
“Gas, Gabriel.”
---
“You have something on your ass,” Gabriel told Sam while they watched the house burn. “My eyes.” He waited till Sam had finished is eye rolling before he continued. “Also, a few chunks of liver and the better part of an eyeball. Just so you know.”
Sam turned and punched him.
---
“If you like water, you’re going to love 70 percent of me,” Gabriel started.
“You said your vessel made up like, one percent of what you are,” Sam said, without looking away from his laptop screen.
Just cause he was bored didn’t mean he’d sink to Gabriel’s level.
“Details, Sam. Play hard to get all you want, but one day I’ll get it perfect, y’know.”
“Mmm.” Sam wriggled his legs under the desk. It was built for tiny people, he could have sworn it.
---
“Cockadoodle-do you think I’m sexy?”
Sam cringed. This had to be one of the most bizarre yet.
“No, I cockadoodle-don’t,” he said into his glass. “Fuck off, will you?”
“Oh come on,” Gabriel exclaimed. “Do you realise how hard these are to come up with?”
“It could be, Gabriel said obstinately. “You aren’t the boss of me.”
“Can you please shut up?” Sam said, finally turning away from his table and facing Gabriel on the other side of his booth. “I’m trying to feel sorry for myself, and you’re distracting me!”
“I know,” Gabriel replied. “That’s the point.”
He flagged a waitress with a warm smile, and ordered two more of what Sam had.
“You’re working yourself too hard,” Gabriel said. “If I wasn’t here to stop you from imploding, you’d be useless to anyone. Pull your shit together, Sam.”
Sam blinked at him.
“Oh. Ok.”
---
“Gabriel, what.”
Gabriel held the keyboard out of reach, smile unwavering.
“Y’know, I designed the qwerty keyboard.”
“What.”
Gabriel’s smile was deadly. Sam bet this smile was the one he smiled at people just before he killed them.
“Yeah. I rearranged the alphabet just so you and I were together.”
Sam sighed.
“Can I please have my keyboard back?” he asked. “This is very cute, but the touchscreen buttons are too small. I can’t fake your ID if I misspell your name.”
Gabriel groaned loudly.
“No fun,” he said, slapping the keyboard down on the table. “No fun at all.”
“Good,” Sam yelled at his retreating back.
---
“Are you a library book? Because I'd like to-”
“Ok, fine. Do you want dinner? A movie? Sex? Seriously, just make an actual effort to talk about this and we can do that. I like you, you like me, but constantly making out that your affection is a joke makes me uncomfortable and less likely to pursue this, so be an adult. Also, stop interrupting me halfway through important tasks for bad pickup lines.”
Gabriel stopped, Sam’s book in his hand.
“Are you for real? You’re considering us?”
For a crazy powerful being, he was a little slow. He could have read it in Sam’s soul months ago. Then again, his respect for Sam’s boundaries was one of the reasons Sam trusted him enough to say:
“Yes.”
“Yes!” Gabriel shouted.
They got kicked out of the library. Sam refused to talk about it until he didn’t want to punch Gabriel, but they figured it out eventually. Dean figured it out even later, walking in on them after a night of debauchery (they cuddled and watched romantic movies all night while eating popcorn and donuts. Sue them) and was suitably amused.
I finally got to bed around 4am, and I am actually rewatching season 1. My otp is Sabriel(I love Gabe too!). I have always found photography cool and tried to get into but my hands shake and that made it really difficult to get clear pictures.
Tripods and fences/other solid objects are your friend! Either that, or use a shorter shutter speed if you have a good camera- I don’t, most of the time, but it saves my life when I do. I have hella shaky hands :)
I hope you’ve slept since then! Spn is great but ur health is very imporatant! And hell yeah, Sabriel otp. Hope you enjoy today’s addition to my fics ;)
five dollar footlong is not necessarily the title of this small work, just the phrase that inspired it.
---
The guy describing himself to Sam seemed ok. He was clean, had a steady job and couldn’t flake on the rent, and he was an artist so he’d spent a lot of his time in his room. He even threw in enough little not-so-nice details that made it obvious he wasn’t too good to be true. It was perfect.
---
“You’re a hooker in your spare time,” Sam said flatly.
Gabriel blinked at him.
“Technically I’m not a hooker,” he said. “I mean, nobody pays me, really. It’s more of a sugar daddy thing, but with multiple people. Art supplies are expensive, y’know? Some of them I paint for, too, but those are separate and therefore no money is exchanged for the sex part.”
He bent over in his lacy lingerie, picking up the tight jeans he always wore to his ‘job’. Jesus Christ, he was having sex. For art supplies.
“I don’t think that stops you from being a hooker.”
Gabriel turned, glaring at Sam as he pulled his pants on. He wasn’t even going to bother with a shirt over his corset, Sam knew that. He’d just slip his button up neatly into his bag, coat on, and shrug when Sam asked why he wasn’t wearing it. How the fuck did he hide this?
“Do you even work at the bar?” Sam asked, leaning on the doorframe.
“Yes. Just because I get laid for stuff doesn’t mean I make legal money,”’ Gabriel muttered. “Jeez, why are you making this weird? It’s not like you have a reason to be invested in my sex life.”
Sam flushed.
“Maybe I want one.”
Gabriel stopped, one leg in his jeans, and looked up.
“Ok,” he said, drawing out the O unnecessarily. “I feel like that should be a conversation I have when I’m not ten minutes away from meeting someone. How ‘bout we put this on hold?”
-----
They put it on hold for a week. Sam was out every day working on their portfolio. Gabriel was working every night. Gabriel came home one night to find Sam passed out on the couch, a dark spot of drool under their chin and their boxers slightly too low on their hips. Gabriel had never seen them without pants on, had no clue whether they were xx or xy because it hadn’t mattered. Just like it hadn’t mattered when Sam calmly told him that they went by they/them when possible, and that any gender stereotypes could stay the hell out of the house or Gabriel wouldn’t be considered as a tenant.
Now, Gabriel was curious. Sam was his friend, the quiet presence at his side on movie night, the loud voice arguing about rule on games night, the one who cooked vegetable soup when Gabriel was sick. They wanted something sex related with Gabriel. It was a strange thought. What would they like in bed? What would they be like in bed? Would it be weird? If it made things weird, it couldn’t happen. Gabriel liked them too much.
“Gabriel, I can hear you watching me,” Sam muttered into their arm. “Stop thinking and shower, you smell like jizz.”
It wouldn’t make things weird. Things were already weird.
“Shower with me, then,” Gabriel offered. “You have drool all over your face and your hair’s greasier than Dean’s dinner.”
Sam looked up. They stared at Gabriel.
“Aight,” Sam said. “We talking about this then?”
“Tomorrow,” Gabriel replied. “Too tired tonight. Shower and touch would be nice though. She was really rough today.”
It wasn’t till he finished talking that Gabriel realised that he’d been a little tactless. Sam didn’t react at all, just stood up and-
“Aight.”
**Sam’s negative reaction to Gabriel’s sexual activities is not a representation of the author’s view on sex workers.
I am pretty good. One thing about me is that it is currently 1:14 in the morning were I live and i'm watching Supernatural. What is something about you?
oh dear, y’all need to get to bed, haha. That’s good, though! Where’re you up to? I’ll be honest, I have a problem where unless I’m watching scenes for accuracy, I haven’t watched spn for ages. I couldn’t get past Gabriel’s booboo.
Other than that, some things about me: I’m currently studying photography and have become known as the person who takes photos in graveyards. Otp is Sabriel or Debriel or like... anything with Gabriel, tbh. It’s a problem. I have two cats and my brother’s tag-a-long kitten, I like oversharing, and I do not get enough time on here.
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
titsay
prguitarman
