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Gabriel wants to know if you're gonna eat that (just_desserts) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-14 21:36:00

Who: Gabriel and Castiel & Dean Winchester
What: Not technically breaking and entering
When: Saturday 10/12, morning
Where: The Winchester Estate
Rating: Medium for threats of slow pain and death filled with slow pain and death.
Status: Complete




There were a few things that Dean was very much aware of. The first was that Castiel was out cold next to him in bed. The second was that the house smelled disturbingly like quiche. And the third was that there were no texts on his or Castiel’s phone from anyone at all saying they were coming over.

Dean tugged on a pair of sweatpants, listening cautiously to the clatter of pots and pans downstairs. He pulled his gun (dream him’s favourite,) from where he’d kept it stashed under the bed and crept silently down the stairs. There weren’t many things that the Marines hadn’t prepared him for, and memorizing exactly which parts of a floor in a place he frequented squeaked or creaked was one of them. Well, the Marines and John Winchester. Mostly John.

Whatever the case, there was some short weird guy in his kitchen that he’d never fucking seen before in his life and after the shit with Samandriel’s evil twin, Dean was taking zero chances. He cocked the gun. “Hands where I can see ‘em,” he said coldly, in that moment he was entirely the men he never wanted to be: the marine and the hunter in his dreams. Whoever the hell this was needed to be very, very careful right about now.

The short weird guy gave a great long pause before tilting his head to the side a little in order to catch Dean in his peripherals. "What, seriously?" He asked, a tinge of a whine in his tone. On the counter beside and in front of him were various foods, some prepared, some looking like they were getting there.

He sighed anyway, and lifted his hands slowly, one holding a spatula and the other empty and placating. "I'm gonna burn the sauté and it's gonna be all your fault."

“Don’t care,” Dean said, focusing on the stranger. “Who the fuck are you and why the hell are you in my kitchen.” It was far more demand than question. He was going to immobilize this little fuck if he had to.

"I'm gonna turn the stove off and then around now," Gabe said, and although there was still some cheer in his tone, it was also obvious he was being careful. "You know," he said conversationally while he moved at the speed of ridiculously slow, "most folks don't pull a gun out at the prospect of a professional quality breakfast."

“And most folks don’t break into other people’s homes and start cooking.” Dean didn’t stop the guy from turning around. He really didn’t give a fuck. “Cas!” he called out up the stairs, tone more an order than any kind of invitation to breakfast.

Gabe actually huffed at that, finally turning and crossing his arms, spatula and all. He frowned at the gun, but leaned against the counter anyway. "I definitely didn't break in, dude. That would mean I didn't use my key."

"Dean?" Cas, not a morning person ever, had stumbled out of bed and thrown boxers on at the call, and was now thumping down the stairs in a way that sounded sleepy and uncoordinated. When he finally made it to the bottom, sleep in his eyes and hair sticking up every which way, he pressed his lips into a thin, nervous line at the sight of the gun in Dean's hands. "What--?" he peeked around the corner, spotting the man at the kitchen counter, and then his shoulders slumped somewhat, the concern seeping out of him. "Oh. Hello, Gabriel."

Gabriel's smile in response was bright and toothy. "Call your dog off, little bro, or else there'll be blood all over breakfast."

Dean wasn’t budging. He knew he probably shouldn’t have picked up the gun, that it would probably end with him all keyed up like this, but he sure as fuck didn’t trust the smug ass face in his kitchen. His kitchen using his tools. If there were any room in the house that Dean was especially territorial about, it was this one.

To his credit, Gabe had brought all the food himself, so he was a little more thoughtful than he felt he was getting credit for. Gabriel looked somewhere between bored and concerned, and turned his gaze back to Castiel, raising an eyebrow and twisting his lips to the side a little. "Dude," he said, but was clearly holding back on what else he looked like he was considering.

"Dean," Cas repeated, looking a little nervous again, and nothing short of a little agitated himself. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, making it stick up impossibly more and then hovered his hand near Dean's arm, but wisely did not touch. "Please don't shoot my brother."

Dean uncocked and put the safety back on. He lowered the gun and looked darkly at Cas. “Get him out of here.” With that, he went to go put his gun away and get some pants on, possibly a shower also to calm down.

Cas stared after him with a worried look, lips tilting downward and the bottom one caught between his teeth.

It wasn't until he was from the room that he looked back toward Gabriel. Who was staring at him with an expression that was interested and guarded both.

"You could have called first," he told his older brother, hesitant.

"You always say no," Gabriel replied, turning back to his cooking like he had absolutely no intention of leaving. "Wrong footing, huh? I made breakfast. Am making breakfast. We have things to talk about, James. Your grump of a significant other can deal with or not, up to you."

Cas stood still for a moment, shifted his weight on his feet and then mumbled something about clothing before leaving the room, too. Maybe Dean had had enough time to calm himself. Castiel doubted it.

Dean washed his face and put on normal clothes before Cas made it completely up the stairs. “Your brother needs to learn some respect or I will actually shoot him,” he said when his husband came in the room. “And we’re changing the locks.”

"He rarely visits," Castiel said, making a show of rooting through one of the dressers in order to pull out a pair of jeans. "At the time, it was safer to let him have a key than not."

Castiel then frowned, and it was the sort of frown that somehow looked like he was using his entire body to manage it. "He isn't easy to get along with always, but he is the only person in my family that I still speak with regularly. I'd find it beyond upsetting if you shot him."

“We’d get the kid to fix it, don’t worry,” Dean grumbled. What, if you had angelic first aid, may as well right? “And he has to learn somehow that you don’t come into a man’s kitchen and start using his tools without asking first. It’d be like him coming into the garage and getting anywhere near anything.” Dean ducked into the bathroom to make sure he didn’t look too much like he was going to actually murder anyone.

"Gabriel has a way with making himself welcome," Castiel said dryly, and it came out muffled as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head -- clearly an item purchased for comfort as it was entirely too large on him. "But we still aren't shooting him."

“Not even a little bit?” Dean said. “Fucker needs to learn that actions have consequences.”

Castiel, refraining from mentioning that shooting someone had consequences too, only fixed Dean with a long, solemn stare.

It didn’t have consequences if you made it look like they never got shot in the first place. God, Cas. “Fine,” Dean said, throwing his hands up. “Then I’ll just stab him.” Huffing, he started downstairs again.

Deciding to take that as a win, Castiel gave one of his long suffering sighs before fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves and following along after his husband. Gabriel had better have made coffee because at this rate he was certain he might stab someone.

When they got back downstairs, the table was filled with a ridiculous spread of food: quiche, breakfast potatoes, bacon, cinnamon rolls and pancakes. Graciously, he had some fruit salad too for when Cas looked at all the rest and refused to eat it (hey, he knew his brother). There was also coffee.

He had his hands up and in the open, as if to prove his innocence.

Dean looked at the spread of food and decided to be petulant and not take the bribe. He went to the fridge and grabbed a can of coke instead. “You’re doing the dishes before you leave,” he said firmly. “I’m not making him clean up your mess.” They both knew Cas and both had to know that was what was going to happen.

Pointedly, Cas poured himself some coffee and tried not to think of the mess of dishes that would be left behind if Gabriel refused. Stiff backed, he sat down at the table and looked at nothing on the table in particular as he sipped his coffee.

Gabriel only held his hands up again, this time in acquiescing defeat before pouring himself a cup too and plopping down into a seat and loading his plate up with food. "Of course I'll do the dishes," he said, and that tone pointedly spoke of the fact that, yes, he did know his brother very well. "I'm not here to set my little bro out of sorts, jesus."

Dean leaned against the counter and stayed there, just watching the interactions or lack thereof. “You wanna tell us what brings you by now?” he asked. Any other time might’ve been better. Maybe Cas coulda used his brother while Dean was in the hospital or maybe somewhere closer to their actual wedding all ‘hey, congrats!’ but now? Now it seemed really, really weird.

Cheeks full of food, Gabe made a little noise and a vague gesture with his hand.

Cas, entirely too seriously and no less grumpy looking than earlier, fixed his gaze on his brother and rose an eyebrow as if to echo Dean's own question.

"Tough crowd," Gabe said, sounding a little sad about it and looking a bit more serious, too. "Eat some fruit, Jam--Cas. It'll help your mood out." Then he turned to look over at Dean and offered a thoughtful look. It was different than Castiel's, but still had that 'seeing right through you' quality to it.

"So here I was," he said, between sips of coffee, "minding my own business in my kitchen, and then all the sudden out of nowhere (and I mean nowhere seriously guys), this kid pops up."

Dean let out a low, slightly frustrated sigh. “Damnit, Sam.” It sounded way better than using the kid’s full name and was a phrase that disturbingly fit his younger brother-in-law. “Did he sit in your lap and wiggle or just give you the sad puppy dog eyes? I told Lucifer to leash train him better but.” Dean shrugged. Now he was only sort of faking it.

It was a logical conclusion to draw. Some kid pops into Castiel’s brother’s apartment and suddenly the guy’s here? Yeah. Samandriel. He looked up at Cas, silently asking if he could shoot the kid even though he didn’t really want to.

Cas only offered Dean another one of those dry looks that said as much as he might have liked it, no one was getting shot today. As much as he wanted to offer a sigh with it, he somehow miraculously refrained.

"Yeah," Gabe said, cutting into the silent conversation because he never had been the best at not being included. "Samandriel? I told him it was a mouthful. Heh. There was no lap sitting. Thank Christ. Maybe some puppy dog eyes, though. Anyway. He pops up, says he's brothers with you--" he pointed at Cas almost sharply, "and then started apologizing for something I would quote 'Understand Later' unquote." He rose his eyebrows, clearly looking for answers, all cheer from earlier (even with the gun) gone.

"Oh," said Cas, very suddenly, eyeing Gabriel with a look of near-shock, as if pieces of a puzzle he was putting together in his mind were clicking together.

“Oh?” Dean asked, looking between the pair of them. And then it clicked for him too. “Oh goddamnit,” he grumbled, setting his can of coke down on the counter heavily. “Fucking angels.”

"Oh?" Gabriel repeated, sounding suspicious and very much like he didn't like where this was all going. Eyes narrowed, he stuffed another bite of quiche into his mouth as if that were a proper enough kind of protest. When it turned out it wasn't he gave a frantic little shake of his fork. "Well? Guys?"

"I--" Cas was looking a little embarrassedly at the bowl of fruit on the table. "It's very hard to explain."

“Bullshit, it’s not hard to explain,” Dean said, getting more annoyed by the moment. “Look,” he turned to Gabriel. “There’s these dreams. Now, I don’t know the percent of people in the population of the county that have them, you’d have to ask someone who cares. But they’re these whole other like memories of lives that don’t happen in this world and sometimes.” Dean yanked up his shirt sleeve to show Cas’ handprint. “You wake up different based on the dreams. People who weren’t human seem to stop being human just...the kid’s like blowing through all the stops having a full-fledged existential crisis with feathers and fuckin’ telepathy and healing and all this shit and Cas is...still pretty human.”

He looked down at his husband. “The kid says you’ll understand later, then I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet you’ve already shown up somewhere in someone’s dreams.” He’d call Sam but...yeah no.

"Right. I'm going to turn into an episode of Touched by an Angel? That's awesome. No, seriously, great." Gabriel did not, in fact, sound enthused. He squinted at Dean's burny-mark (dear lord), and then gave Cas a hard stare. "Pretty human," he repeated in vague question.

Cas only rolled his shoulders in slight response, suddenly very focused on his coffee. "There didn't seem a good way of telling you," he admitted. "That wouldn't have gotten me committed."

Gabriel only scoffed at that. "He said I should ask to see your wings."

Dean through his arms up in the air. “Because of course everyone else can see your damn wings.” He was frustrated and lashing out wherever he could. None of this was even food he liked. Too many damn vegetables and he wasn’t going to eat just on principle. He paced out of the room, still in earshot but needed to get away when Cas brought his wings out and he still couldn’t see.

Cas would have argued there weren't nearly enough vegetables, but he wasn't eating for a completely different reason than Dean. Gabriel seemed pleased enough with his own cooking for all of them, though. The older brother eyed Dean on the way out, but said nothing before turning back to Castiel.

"Well, Jimmy? C'mon." A pause. "Fuck. Castiel. Do you know how hard that is to -- nevermind. Let's see."

Cas only sighed, tilting his head (messy hair and all) down and rolling his shoulders open wider before spreading his wings -- all dark blues and black materializing and spanning a great deal of the space they were in.

"Holy fucking shit," said Gabe, and then he couldn't think of anything to follow that with.

Dean could still see the shadows of wings on the wall in the living room, watching and wishing he could see them in real life. “Lemme know when you put those away.”

As if completely aware of Dean's feelings on the matter, Cas snapped his wings back up behind himself and then hid them away again. "Please come eat breakfast," he told his husband before going back to staring at his coffee. When he looked up again, it was at a still silent Gabriel. It was so rare he was quite that it was nearly a shame to break that. "I've dreamt of you. You look different. I didn't put two and two together. I should have."

Gabriel refilled his coffee, and then Cas' before settling himself back down and picking a strawberry out of the salad. "This is fucked. You guys realize that, right? I mean. Cool wings, man, seriously. They match your eyes and all but angels? Ones who appear in kitchens in the middle of the freaking night and say cryptic ass shit? And what the hell. What's Dean? A werewolf?"

“Just a guy,” Dean said, going back to his coke but still not sitting down. “And yeah, it’s fucked.” He looked over at his husband. “Big brother gonna end up with wings at some point too?” He sure as hell already had the angelic sense of invading personal space down.

Castiel's smile was lacking in any real humor, and no one in the room should have been surprised at that. "Gabriel is an archangel," he said before actually putting a slice of quiche on his plate and picking up his fork. "He'll have more than a set of wings, I should think."

Gabe maintained that he had a key and that made it more than fair and also was not an invasion. He didn't want to focus on sprouting wings and being nigh omnipotent (jesus, even he was aware that was a terrible amount of power to give someone like him), and so instead just leaned back in his hair and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. "So where's the kiddo come into this?"

“More like who comes into the kid,” Dean replied dryly. “He’s pretty serious with Lucifer. And all that angelic brotherhood bullcrap.” He looked over at Castiel. “Still not gonna be able to see the wings. You know that’s messed up right? I mean given...everything and all that destiny bullshit the kid starts getting off on every so often. Friggen Michael and I can’t even see wings.”

Who comes into the kid? Oh, christ. Gabriel choked on his strawberry, beat his hand against his chest until his eyes watered and then laughed over it. "Are you serious? My brother--" A pause, and then he shook his head. "I was gonna ask what'd gotten into you, but that's just as bad. Oh, man. This is golden. I can't even." It was like he just took the easiest part of the conversation and ran with it, because there was no way he knew how to comment on that kid sleeping with the Devil, or angelic brotherhood.

Castiel, who was looking apologetic over the wings never being an option for Dean to see, went bright red and frowned so deeply it was a wonder the room didn't go a few degrees colder. He did not speak on that, but instead turned to Dean. "It's not your fault. Most humans just don't have the visual spectrum for it. It would hurt you."

“What? No, man. I wasn’t… the kid is Cas’ brother, okay. There’s no way of saying that in the same sentence as boning the devil without…” Dean gestured vaguely. “Anyway, he’s got pretty much nothing in the way of family so he takes this whole angel shit pretty seriously. Like, I dunno, man. His parents left him alone and crap too much and so he makes up for a shitty family by making sure he tries to make his dream family real or something.”

Gabriel nodded, thoughtful and then went for another strawberry. "Right. Cool. Well. I guess our family's big enough where another brother won't make a difference. Maybe he won't be a dick like the other two, right?" He said it sort of fondly -- enough where it prompted an almost smile from Cas.

"Perhaps," he agreed and cut his quiche into little pieces before eating it. "Samandriel is good. You will probably like him." He paused, and then set up a little straighter, looking over at Dean as he spoke, even though his words were still directed at Gabriel. "You know I don't like surprise visits, but this house isn't just mine anymore, Gabriel. You must call next time. Please."

Dean nodded, glad that Cas was getting that on the table even if Gabriel probably wouldn't listen. "Do it again and I actually will pull the trigger." He looked at Gabriel, knowing that Cas would know that this was very definitely his serious face.

It was very definitely his serious face. Cas didn't comment on it though, only turned his gaze away from the both of them and went back to his coffee and quiche.

"Yeah, yeah," Gabe said, waving a dismissive hand. "I just couldn't get it outta my head and came over. I was trying to be nice. But whatever." He gave a little sniff of a noise, as if offended before slamming back the rest of his coffee.

"Anyway, Dean-o. As far as first introductions go down, I gotta say, I kinda like you. Cas did good. Didn't think he had it in him. We should hang out more."

“Yeah, not gonna happen, pal,” Dean said dryly. He walked over to Cas and threaded his fingers through his husband’s hair, giving them both a moment of calm and affection.

Gabriel only snickered before pulling himself out of his chair and going back to dig through the cabinets for some tupperware to stick all his leftovers in. "We'll see." It sounded a little more like a promise than it did anything else.

Eyes fluttering shut for a moment, Castiel leaned into Dean's touch. If he tried hard enough he could almost pretend it was a normal brother-free morning. Almost. Pots and pans were noisy in the cabinets.

While Gabriel’s back was turned, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. It was almost like in all his anger that morning, he’d forgotten what a steady influence Cas was on him and now he was trying to soak it up in excess. He stole a bit of fruit out of his husband’s bowl too, but a grape didn’t really count.

Castiel hummed out his approval, dipping his head back to look up at his husband, expression fond and indulgent. "If I help him with the dishes, he'll leave faster." He murmured lowly, "and then perhaps we can have a bath."

Dean rolled his eyes. “Go on then,” he said, not about to deny Cas the pleasure of cleaning when it’d been a very stressful morning. “I’m gonna go upstairs and see if Scud sent me any more floor plan and equipment details for the shop.”

"Alright." Castiel's smile in return was somehow thankful and mirthful both, but he stood, pressed a kiss to Dean's lips and then went to help his brother with the dishes.

"About time," Gabriel said, a laugh in his tone.