#dark!gabriel

The last time that you had seen Gabriel something was off. He wasn’t 100% there. He seems almost on autopilot and was rougher than he had ever been when it came to making love. In fact, he had threatened you when she mentioned going back home to your mother’s.

“You’re mine. You aren’t going anywhere.  When I come back, you better be right here waiting for me.”

You only nodded, not sure what to say to your lover as he turned and disappeared without another word.

Now here you sat on that same bed staring at the wall like a caged bird.

“Gabriel, if you can hear me you better get down here! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Again nothing

“That’s it! I’m going out.”

You said, coldly. When no archangel appeared in the room you stood. You were tired of being the dutiful lover. If Gabriel didn’t have the time for you then you didn’t have the time to sit here and let your life waste away. So what if he was keeping you young and healthy? If he didn’t come at the threat of you walking out then he would probably have no clue that you went to do something outside of the hotel room.

Walking into the nearest most sleazy bar possible, you took a satisfied breath. In your mind, you were mentally shooting your boyfriend the bird as you walked inside. You didn’t care that your black dress was too short or if when you bent over the whole world would see your lady bits. Right now alcohol, lots of alcohol, was on your mind.

Sitting down on the first stool, you smiled as the bartender walked over.

“Time for some fun.”

You thought. The bartender handed you a small menu.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?”

You smiled.

“Jack and coke.”

The bartender nodded before going to prepare your drink.

“I like a girl that can handle whiskey.”

You turned to face a man with dark eyes and neatly styled brown hair. He looked taller than Gabriel but would stand no match when it came to the archangel. No man in this bar would! 

“Yeah? Well, I can handle it pretty well.”

You said with an innocent smile. Normally you would be ashamed of your behavior. Tonight, however, not a fuck was to be given.

“I think that is amazing. My name is Ryan.”

You eagerly shook his hand.

“Y/n.”

It didn’t take long and very many shots of Jack before you were forgetting all about your pain over Gabriel. In fact, you hadn’t thought his name in a while. Ryan and his funny stories were almost too perfect. He was making you laugh about the smallest things.

“Hey wanna go outside? I need a smoke.”

Ryan asked with a funny grin. You quickly picked up the small handbag that you had brought before following Ryan outside. You didn't notice that Gabriel's name was lighting up on your cell phone until you reached the door. With a drunken shrug, you pushed ignore and walked out.

Ryan quickly lit a cigarette before looking to you.

“I've had a good time tonight. You're really pretty. Do you got a man?”

You shrugged.

“When he wants to be. Haven't heard from him in a while.”

Ryan nodded.

“Works out of town.”

You laughed coldly.

“You could say that.”

Ryan took a drag on his cigarette before looking a little more intense.

“Why don't you come home with me? You look like you haven't been fucked enough.”

Before you could respond blood shot out of Ryan's mouth and a bloody gash appeared on stomach immediately soaking through his white shirt. Your eyes widened as the man hit the ground. Your eyes rolled up to see Gabriel standing behind the now-dead Ryan looking like he was ready to raise hell.

“Gabe...Gabriel!”

You managed to squeak. Gabriel's honey eyes looked cold and here was something sinister about them as he looked at you.

“Having fun, honeybunch?”

You blinked as Gabriel stepped over Ryan like he was a piece of garbage in the road. Before you could respond, Gabriel's hand was around your throat.

“I asked if you had fun? I suggest you answer me.”

You swallowed as Gabriel increased the pressure.

“Well, I was. What are you doing here?”

Gabriel seemed to ignore your answer as he looked at your scantily clad appearance.

“Are you a fucking idiot?! I could hear everything you were doing! It was all over the damn angel radio! Where the hell are your clothes? I know you have them. What did you expect to get out of all of this? Some mortal to take you back to their place and fuck you silly. I have news for you sweetheart that isn't going to happen.

You pushed Gabriel off and yanked the shoulder strap of your dress up.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?! You don't ever show the fuck up anymore! So what if I want to go out and have a little fun. Not like you give a good god damn. Oh look at that I said god! Naughty me!”

The look on Gabriel's face showed nothing but fury and rage!

'That's it! I have had it with you! You have gone way over the line! I tell you to stay in the hotel room and here you are like a damn streetwalker.”

Gabriel reached out grabbing your hand. The next thing you knew the two of you were standing in the hotel room. After the room stopped spinning, you looked back to Gabriel who was still beyond livid. He walked over pulling you to him for a rough kiss. You cried out the moment his teeth latched onto your bottom lip and his hand roughly squeezed your left butt cheek.

“Gabe!”

You moaned his name as his kiss eased up into a gentle and almost romantic kiss. Gabriel quickly pushed you away and onto the bed. Your eyes rolled up as he towered over her.

“Time for a little lesson on how our relationship works. You do what I tell you and you won't get punished like you are about to now. I am done being sweet to you. You're mine and that's it. I'll kill any worthless person that gets in my way. You were about to put out for another man so I am going to fuck you like the whore that you are.”

He reached down quickly ripping the black dress from your body leaving you naked below him.

“Gabriel, what is wrong with you? This isn't you.”

You cried out as he yanked his own shirt over his head in a blind rage. Gabriel looked down at her with a cold smirk.

“This war has changed me, peach. You get what you fucking get!”

You were scared! Scared and slightly turned on....however, you were afraid to admit the last part. Maybe you could pray to Cas for help. He would show up if she needed something.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Gabriel sneered coldly as he reached down slamming a finger into your wet core.

“Ah, you're wet...just like I expected. You really are a slut. You know the safe word.”

He growled as he curled his finger letting his thumb stroke over your clit. You threw your head back into the pillow as Gabriel continued his assault. Maybe you were going to enjoy this after all. 

“Gabriel, please. I love you.”

“Ha....yeah right and I was born yesterday. Let me tell you a thing precious...”

Gabriel took his hand away as he began to undress. You couldn't help wondering why he wasn't just using his grace to undress like normal.

“You are all mine. Mine to pleasure. Mine to taste and most importantly mine to love.”

Gabriel elongated the word “love” before his grace slammed into your body at full force. You cried out as the pressure inside of your body intensified. It felt just like Gabriel fucking you, yet this was different. There was something that made this even more intense. It went on until you were unable to cry his name instead you were praying. Gabriel chuckled.

“That's right sweetheart. Pray to me. Look at us. Me using my god-given powers to fuck you into next week while you moan like a dirty harlot. We would both be fucking crucified in heaven for this. It's worth it though...seeing you spread open like this just waiting for me to touch you. I could look at it all day.”

You cried out again. This time you were finally able to get some verbal words out.

“Gabriel, please. I'm sorry. I was so angry. I was worried about you. It has been too long since I saw you and I needed....”

“Shut up.”

The archangel said coldly before making his grace stop. You gasped, as your chest heaved. You were thankful that he had given you a few seconds break. It wasn't long until his cock was slamming into you.

“You just thought that you were going to get away without this huh? Did you think that I wouldn't claim what was mine? Well, you're wrong.”

Gabriel's hand found its way back to your throat as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Don't you dare shut those eyes. If you do it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you hear me?”

“Yes!”

You squealed as Gabriel's increased the pace of his thrusts each time his cock feeling bigger than it was the moment before.

“You leave this hotel room again...”

You shook your head, however, deep down you were wondering if you left again would it get you this rough sex a second time? Whether you wanted to admit it or not you were enjoying this..

“I won't....not without you! I've learned my lesson.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I don't believe you. Sugar snap, I have seen hell and I know what liars look like. You are just saying shit to make me happy. Best thing you can do is hush. Ah, what the hell. You don't need that voice. I took John's voice away in the bible not to mention that overgrown Dean Winchester and his brother. What does yours matter for a little bit?”

Gabriel snapped and you no longer had the ability to speak. He grinned looking like a mirthful child at Christmas.

“Much better.”

Gabriel said softly as he went back to pummeling your body harder with his. Focusing his honey eyes on your clit, Gabriel focused his grace on the tender tissue. Your eyes were open wide as you raised your hips to meet his thrusts.

“That's a good girl. I love you Y/n. I love everything about you. You are the only human that I have never been able to get enough of. Mhm, I love the way you take my cock. Come for me sugar.”

Gabriel growled as his cock made contact with your cervix. Between repeated hits to your cervix and his grace on your clit You were spiraling out of control. The moment your orgasm started to wash over you,  Gabriel immediately gave your voice back. You were shrieking his name as Gabriel closed his eyes coming hard inside of you.

Neither moved for a moment. Gabriel sighed happily.

“I'm going to be coming back home more often.”

You looked up at him with timid eyes.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Gabriel's eyes darkened taking on that sinister expression as he smiled coldly.

“That's up to you and your pussy to decide. Time for you to be doing your duties to me. My suggestion to you, princess, is to remember what I can give to you. What I can do to you and most importantly no one will ever be able to make you come like I can. Also, it wouldn't hurt remember the hell I can bring you. Got that cupcake?”

“Yes sir...”

_________

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@supernaturalways

@shaylybaby2032

@emiwrites3reads

@fand0maniac

@marichromatic

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@hankypranky

@wontlookaway

@deanwherescas

@shitfaceddaniel

@summer-novak

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@spnaturalconfessions

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

Michael keeps looking back at you with wide, pleading eyes, tweaking the tie you had talked him into. He keeps complaining that if you wanted him collared and leashed there are more pleasant ways to go about it. You insisted on the tie; as fun as the other option is, it’s really not a topic you wish to broach with your father. Besides, he should know by now that you always get what you want. The color of his wings proves that your control over Michael is greater than even Heaven’s pull had once been.

“This seems like a bad idea,” he protests, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. In the end, however, he’ll participate. Grumbling and fretting are how Michael shows he cares, even if it does occasionally grate on your nerves. The day he does something without some sort of token protest is the day you start to truly worry.

You reach up and retighten the tie, pointedly doing it with more force than you had previously. “Stop fussing.” The tone of your voice dares him to disobey.

Michael grimaces. “This is a cursed invention of humans,” he complains, flirting with the idea of disobedience without fully engaging with it. “Why would they wish to feel like there is a noose around their neck? Who decided that should be part of formal dress? At least cravats had some elegance to them.”

It’s your turn to pull a face. If you left Michael to his own devices, you don’t doubt that there would be some terrible mishmash of clothing from different eras and regions. And you’d only just disposed of the last Miami vice style outfit he had squirreled away. Falling hadn’t improved his fashion sense, sadly.

Rather than indulge him in his whinging, you simply say, “Relax,” and stroke over the back of his hair, noting that the locks are almost down to his collar. He’d chopped them off on an impulse, but since becoming involved with you was trying to grow it out again. Turns out Michael has a bit of a kink when it comes to having his hair pulled, which suits you perfectly. “It’ll be fine,” you reassure him.  

He leans into your touch. “You say that, but I remind you that based on my previous encounters with your father, fine is an exaggeration.” Considering everyone came out of it relatively intact and not too burnt, you think fine is an apt description. You didn’t have to replace any dishes or chairs, which was a fortunate event; no matter how recently you seemed to have acquired belongings, the moment you needed a replacement you could never find the exact item again.

There’s one sure way to distract Michael from his concerns, however, a recent development you have been using and abusing to your advantage. You take one of Michael’s hands and pull it to your stomach. “What do you think, sweetheart? Think your daddy is overreacting? I know I do,” you coo down at the faint bump.

It’s amazing how effective this behavior is at getting Michael to agree with you and stop all forms of whining. Being pregnant is an automatic win to every argument, not that you need it, but it’s amusing to see Michael turn into soft, gooey ball of emotions, unable to help himself. It’s endearing.

“They aren’t capable of that level of thought yet,” Michael grouses, even as he gets to his knees and presses his ear to your stomach. A grin creeps over your face, and you tousle his hair again.

“But they’ll be like daddy, I’m sure, and admit that mommy is always right,” you murmur, fingers trailing down to stroke over his cheek.

Michael grumbles some more, turning to press a kiss to your belly. You’re barely showing, but you want to tell the rest of your family before it gets to the point that it’s obvious it’s not just a few extra of Persephone’s cookies.

Especially because you’d rather no one level a city block upon finding out. The amount of paperwork that humans generate sometimes makes Heaven seem like an efficient machine in comparison, and that isn’t a compliment to either institution.

A timer starts going off, and you clap your hands together. “They’ll be here any minute. Daniel!” There’s a clatter, and your adopted son appears on the spiral staircase, dressed up in black slacks and a gray-green collared shirt that brings out his eyes.

“Yes mom?” You’ve come such a long way to have him call you that, from trying to remove what you thought was just another satanspawn from the earth to calling him your son.   

“Help me set the table, please,” you call as you bustle into the kitchen, hiding a fond smile. He’s a good boy, and often times more mature and dependable than Michael. Not that Michael doesn’t try, but if you want something done without twenty questions Daniel is your man. Not to mention, sometimes Michael still gets caught up in ‘that’s not how Heaven does it.’

While he understands that he’s yours, utterly and completely, he fails to understand that this city is under your dominion as well. The only higher power that rules here is you. Perhaps the difference is that Daniel has always used you as his moral compass, so adjusting to your laws is easy enough.

Michael had spent so long picking fights with you over the slightest issue that sometimes he would still balk at the way you handle problems. He’s learning, though, coming around to your way of view. It’s harder to teach a millennia old angel compared to a boy, but then again Daniel has always been an exceptional child.

That thought makes you pause. He is a young man, now, isn’t he? Not the scrawny, terrified boy you’d met that fateful day. Growing up and going out into the world, ready to make his mark. Your eyes flit to your stomach. Don’t humans have a word for this feeling? Empty nesters? Oddly accurate for Fallen, too. Idly you rub your stomach. Maybe you have grown accustomed to having a little one around.

Daniel enters the kitchen a moment later, moving carefully around you. He already knows about your pregnancy as it’s been impossible to keep Michael’s behavior from giving it away, and Daniel is far more perceptive.

However, it’s made it so that between the two of them, you’ve barely been able to lift anything lighter than a book without them fussing over you. At least Daniel listens to you without arguing when you insist on doing things yourself. You’re pregnant, not an invalid, and barely pregnant at that. If you don’t put your foot down now on the special treatment it’s only going to get significantly worse later. You know Michael. Going overboard is his modus operandi.

“You really think a dinner party with this family is going to go well?” Daniel asks as he pulls out plates and silverware, balancing them with a grace he’s only recently grown into.

“This family? You’re a part of this family, need I remind you,” you gently chide as you pull out the casserole and set it on top of the oven. The top is a light golden brown, almost as good as the picture next to the recipe you’d followed.

“Yep. Which is why I can call it a functional disaster,” Daniel retorts, gliding out of your reach as he moves to the dining table, setting out six place settings and flashing you a cheeky grin. “Things get done, sure, but rarely the way you expect them to or without something nearly catastrophic happening. Not to mention we’re like a bad joke setup.”

“Excuse me young man,” you call, hands on your hips, one eyebrow cocked in a pose you’ve coined as ‘disapproving mother.’ Even without saying anything, Daniel and Michael recognize they’ve done something wrong when you strike it, though depending on his mood, Michael has known to persist.

Turns out someone enjoys a little punishment, but now is not the time to be thinking about that. Definitely not with your father and siblings coming over.

Daniel gestures at Michael, who is standing poised like a statue in front of the front door waiting for the doorbell to ring, giving you a raised eyebrow in return. “Tell me I’m wrong. Satan, his daughter, and three angels—”

“Fallen,” Michael corrects, the word still full of a bitterness you haven’t shaken him out of yet.

You glance at your lover. “Just remember you’re stuck with this family,” you respond, avoiding the topic. Michael is a walking disaster all on his own and everyone knows it, even you. Of course, he’s your disaster and he has made great improvements. It’s a wonder what happens when you listen to others instead of stubbornly defending your position even when it’s glaringly obvious you have no ground to stand on. Only a few years, however, doesn’t quite begin to make-up for millennia of bad behavior.

Falling helped take him down a peg or two. He’s been much better behaved without an entire Heavenly Host watching him, ready to criticize any perceived weaknesses. Plus, you’ve learned ways to keep him leashed and obedient.

“For better or for worse,” Daniel chimes, smile soft. “Though, when your granddad’s the Devil, hard to top that.”

“You know he hates that moniker,” you scold.

“Not like he cares for Grandpa either,” Daniel replies impishly. Teenagers.

Shaking your head, you grab a few cork trivets and toss them towards Daniel. He catches them, laying them out on the table while you bring the casserole over. Another timer goes off. “Grab the mushrooms and put them on a serving platter please,” you say, heading towards the wine rack. While it’s difficult to get an angel drunk on human liquor, it won’t hurt to mellow moods, though you can’t partake.

You grab an old vine Zinfandel for Lucifer, and a sweeter Orange Muscat for Israfel. The latter isn’t really suited for the meal you made, but Israfel prefers sweet wines. Ramiel will drink whatever you put in front of him, and you have whiskey for after dinner, assuming you make it that far without anyone pulling an Angel Blade.

The doorbell rings.

Michael springs into action, smoothing his crisp ironed shirt once before jerking the front door open. The pleasant smile on his face evaporates as he stares into the chest in front of him.

“I forget you’re shorter in this form,” Ramiel rumbles, eyebrows raised in the precursor to an amused smirk.

“Sadly, while I can change my size there’s nothing to be done about your ego,” Michael snaps. Ramiel chuckles, musses Michael’s hair, and enters, pushing Michael aside.

“And here’s my favorite nestmate,” he says, spreading his arms for a hug. You set the wine on the table, letting Ramiel wrap his long arms around you. He pulls back, eyes going wide and eyebrows again shooting up. “Now I understand what the dinner is about. Got a bun in the oven, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ramiel. Everything is already out of the oven.” Michael sounds petulant, displeased by the brusque dismissal of your fellow Fallen.

“Oh Michael. Don’t ever change,” Ramiel replies, his condescending tone making your lover bristle.

“Anybody breaks anything other than bread in this house and I will kick your sorry feathers,” you threaten, wagging a finger at Ramiel. “And I don’t want to see any wings popping out. Save it for not in my home.”

Your most troublesome nestmate holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “Well, at least with Michael around you’ve already experienced the level of hand-holding and monitoring a kid requires.”

“I am not a child! Point in fact Gabriel is younger than me,” Michael pipes up.

“So that—”

“Ramiel,” you warn, knowing he was going to make another comment at Michael’s expense. “Is it really that amusing to battle wits with an unarmed opponent?”

“Sporting, no,” Ramiel says, pulling out a chair and sitting down, leaning back on two legs, ignoring your sigh. His grin is wide and unrepentant. “Entertaining? Most definitely.”

“Why did you insist on inviting him again?” Michael demands, sitting across from Ramiel and glaring daggers at your prank-prone nestmate.

“Because we can’t choose our family, and he’s part of it,” you say in a voice so sweet sugar has nothing on it. Both Michael and Ramiel appear to stop breathing, turning to look at you with wary eyes. Sometimes, you think, it’s easier to play nice. Makes them paranoid without you having to go through the effort of concocting a punishment or figuring out what to leverage to make them behave. Let their imaginations run wild thinking of what you might have up your sleeve.

“I see I’ve arrived just in time.” You look up to find Israfel has invited himself in, a much quieter entrance than Ramiel’s. He’s dressed with a kind of casual elegance, a long cream cardigan over a white ensemble that on anyone else would look over the top. On his long frame, however, there’s a dignity and grace that makes your attempt to dress Michael up look cheap. You glance over at your lover. At least he hasn’t clawed the tie off his neck yet, and for the most part it’s still straight.

“Israfel,” you greet, letting him sweep you into a hug. He kisses the top of your head, smiling fondly down at you.

“Hello little sister,” he greets. Things had been strained for a while after your Fall, but much of it had been mended when Israfel showed you his own black wings. If you weren’t in Heaven, then he didn’t want to be either. He still doesn’t approve of everything you do, but that’s one of the beauties of being Fallen; you can disagree without there being a wrong and right party, as there’s not much of a governing oversight on Fallen.

And what there is happens to be headed by your father, allowing you to quite literally get away with murder.

“It must be big news you have to share,” Israfel whispers, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Narrowing your eyes, you scowl at him.

“Why do I even bother?” you ask.

He shrugs. “The most oblivious party here is half-responsible for your current state, so I’m not certain. Perhaps you should sit down before your father arrives; I doubt you want him knowing before the food is at least served.”

Rolling your eyes—you aren’t fooled, you know he’s using it as an excuse to get you off your feet—you pull out the chair next to Michael and sit down.

Immediately you catch Ramiel’s troublesome grin, and groan.

“You know, Michael, humans may not be your favorite creature but even they are aware enough to make sure their pregnant mates have, say, their chair pulled out for them.” He swirls the wine he’d helped himself to around his glass, watching it with faux fascination, as if the conversation were of no importance.

Michael’s face goes white, a retort on his lips when Israfel sinks into a seat, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, head tilted to the side. “Gabriel might not be quite as she once was, but she is no delicate human either,” he comments, reaching out and pouring himself a glass of wine, the color matching his ensemble well.

Daniel glances around, ensuring everything is out where it should be before he takes a seat as well, his eyes darting eagerly to the food.

“Great. We’re all here. Can we eat now?” Michael’s petulance is one of the few qualities that hasn’t markedly improved since falling, and you can practically hear the collective sigh everyone holds back.

“Still never learned to count, I see.” You don’t bother turning around, knowing full well who it is. Lucifer had this building built for you and you’ve long since stopped expecting him to enter through the front door like a normal visitor. He has a flair for the dramatic, and at least it’s not another Hellhound pup.

Speaking of which, you reach out with your foot, encountering other feet but no hound sneaking around for scraps.

 Michael pastes a smile on, his hands disappearing under the table. “Lucifer,” he greets. Ramiel gives Lucifer a two fingered salute, once again leaning his chair back. Israfel inclines his head to Lucifer, a gentle smile on his face.

“Oh good. You remember my name. I had feared that your memory might have been going along with your inability to count.”

“Dad, be nice,” you warn before gesturing to the open spot. “You are in his house.”

“A house I paid for, had built, and warded,” Lucifer responds, moving fluidly to his seat, seeming to simply pour himself into the chair without having to pull it out from the table. It’s a little disconcerting to watch but reminds you that he isn’t always so human in appearance.

“If you weren’t Gabriel’s father, she wouldn’t need half of these wards,” Michael points out.

“If I weren’t Gabriel’s father, you wouldn’t be here either,” Lucifer retorts. Israfel and Ramiel takes sips of their respective drinks, one resigned, the other amused. Michael opens his mouth to retort and you clear your throat. This could go on all night and you haven’t even gotten to share your news yet.

“So… can we eat before it gets cold?” Daniel asks, looking at you with large eyes. You give him a nod, and he immediately starts piling food on his plate. A curious phenomenon you had observed with teenagers, or at least the three who frequented your house for a long time, is that they eat far more than the average human, and yet never seem to feel full.

Being pregnant seems to be roughly equivalent to being a teenager, at least in terms of food consumption. You always seemed to be running by the stores, picking up groceries and whatever odd combination of food your unborn child seems to crave. One good thing about having Michael for a partner is that he’s unfamiliar with normal human cuisine and thus sees nothing wrong with combinations such as peanut butter on pickles and cheese with ice-cream.

Daniel has learned to be cautious when he hears the fridge open at odd hours lest his appetite be ruined. Watching him now, it seems like that would be an impossible feat, but you have seen it happen,

The table falls blissfully silent while food is served, everyone respecting the sanctity of a good meal—or the fact that you won’t hesitate to kick any of their asses if they don’t.

“Not that I don’t enjoy getting to sit down to a meal with my daughter,” Lucifer is the first to break the silence, “but I doubt you would get the entirety of the nest together just for family dinner. Something you want to share?”

It’s your turn to play innocent. “What, I can’t just enjoy a family meal? The family that Falls together, stays together don’t you know.” No one laughs at your joke, though Ramiel shakes his head in pity

You glance at Michael. Might as well tell him now, then. In the future you’ll have to schedule more family dinners, if only to prevent your nestmates from being suspicious. Being predictable has never been a compliment as far as your concerned. Predictable is only one step away from complacent, and with the kind of enemies you have, you cannot afford either, especially when you’re about to bring a new life into this world.

Michael shakes his head, jabbing with far more force than required at his food. You tilt your head. Michael flicks his gaze to Lucifer. You roll your eyes. Michael’s fork screeches painfully against the plate.

Lucifer clears his throat, gaze resting on the pair of you.

“I’m going to college!” Daniel’s announcement blessedly drags the attention of the group away from your and Michael’s silent argument.

“It’s not that far,” Ramiel comments. “It’s not like this is your last supper.”

Silence greets his comment.

“Oh come on! Last supper? I mean, sure, there’s only six of us total, but I mean we’ve got the King of Hell himself so it’s like—like some sort of hellish version.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “Ramiel, dear, if you have to explain it… it’s not funny.”

“It was better than yours,” he mutters, retreating behind his wine glass.

“Didn’t you know that human?” Michael asks, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“‘That human,’ Michael, was one of the most brilliant minds humanity has ever hosted, I’m sure in no small part to his personal muse,” Lucifer comments, smiling at you. “My daughter is quite the inspiring force.”

“But it’s a rather strange painting don’t you think? First of all, it’s not accurate at all to the region or the time period he’s attempting to paint, and then everyone is gathered on one side of the table—that would be terribly awkward and far overcrowded and—”

Daniel clears his throat. “Anyways, since I’m going off to college, we thought this would be, uh, a nice way to send me off.”

“But you’ll be back,” Michael states, brow furrowed, successfully derailed from his rant but now busy trying to apply his brand of logic to Daniel’s statement. Daniel glances at you for help. Subtlety is not Michael’s strong suit. “It’s not like you’re dying or anything. By my understanding humans can live for a century or so now. And you aren’t human, so you’ll be around for longer than that. I mean, you survived Gabriel.”

The smack to Michael’s arm isn’t gentle.

“And what does that mean?” you inquire, head tilted to one side, a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. Michael’s eyes widen, recognizing danger in the faux sweet smile you flash him.

“Nothing, dearest.” You turn back to your food and manage to get a bite in before Michael opens his mouth and sticks in his left foot, his right foot, and all six of his wings.

“Well, not nothing. I mean, you did try to kill him when you first met.”

You can feel your left eye twitch. “So I did,” you state placidly, taking your napkin and dabbing at your lips.

Israfel reaches for the wine and refills his glass. Ramiel reaches for another helping of food. Lucifer leans back in his chair, though unlike Ramiel he keeps all four feet of the chair solidly on the ground, watching with amusement, while Daniel looks between the two of you as if to play referee.

“And the fact that you can go from nearly obliterating him at first meeting to having him reach the age of legal majority by which human laws state he is now responsible for himself is a feat that should be celebrated. He’s—”

You hold up your index finger. “I’m not the only one who tried to kill him.”

“Well, no, of course not. But you were never very good at the whole loyal to Heaven bit and following orders. I mean, there’s a reason you Fell.”

Israfel drains his glass. Ramiel arches an eyebrow. “There’s a reason all of us here have Fallen,” he points out, for once acting like the voice of reason. “At least Gabriel Fell of her own choice. You were the whipped one who couldn’t stand to live without her. So really, who has the greater reason for Falling? Gabriel because of her beliefs? Or you because of love?”

“Thank you, Ramiel,” you say in a brittle tone. He shrugs, and then continues because he’s never known when to stop.

“Look, I know to knock on your door for a reason now because, well, if you weren’t already Fallen, I don’t know, seeing some of the things you two get up to—”

“THANK YOU, RAMIEL.” Your voice is louder this time. Daniel is staring fixedly at his plate, and Michael is gawping next to you.

“When did he—?” your lover demands, turning to you.

“He’s not the only one,” Daniel mumbles. “If brain bleach were a thing…”

Thoroughly scandalized, Michael turns to Daniel. “I would have noticed if you walked in!”

“I’m pretty sure the time I stopped by you were too busy on your knees,” Israfel adds, one elegant finger flicking out to the side. “Your windows aren’t nearly as one-way as you think they are.”

Michael looks apoplectic, his skin turning an interesting shade of mauve. “Excuse me?” he demands, starting to come out of his seat.

“Oh please, sit down. It’s not like those of us with wings haven’t seen all that and more,” Lucifer replies, sounding bored. “Just because you thought it was kinky to hold hands doesn’t mean that the rest of us live under a rock. Good thing you live on earth; I think Hell would make you combust on the spot.”

“I did—holding hands—I know what sex is!”

“I’m glad you know what sex is. I hope for my daughter’s sake you’re at least passable at it.”

It’s your turn to want to sink into your seat. This is not a conversation that you wanted to have happen. Ever.

“More than passable,” Michael snaps. “In fact, if we—”

“Why is this a conversation for a family dinner?” Daniel asks you with desperate eyes, his voice raised to cut across Michael.

“Because this family is literally from Hell?” Ramiel supplies. He winces abruptly, and glares at Israfel who hasn’t appeared to move at all.

“Not from Hell,” Lucifer corrects, taking a bread roll, completely unperturbed by any of the topic changes. “I might rule it, but we are all from Heaven. Except for Daniel, but he’s the least disastrous one here.”

“Dad!” It’s your turn to be shocked, staring at your father in betrayal.

“You picked him,” Lucifer says mildly, gesturing to Michael with his bread roll. He rips it in half, sets half down, and then rips the half into quarters. “Daniel had no choice in the matter. That, my dearest, makes you a bigger disaster than him.”

“And how did I earn disaster?” Israfel asks, blinking at the King of Hell.

“Guilty by association,” Lucifer comments. “You would think after a few millennia some of your tranquility would have rubbed off on this lot, but they seem impervious to it.”

This time he gestures to you, your lover, and Ramiel.

“Ramiel is like a brick wall; oblivious to almost everything,” you point out dryly.

“If I’m a brick wall, I hate to think what that makes Michael,” Ramiel retorts, lips twitching up. Oh. No.

“Don’t you—”

“I mean but at least he knew he was in love with you. What do you call someone who doesn’t notice that for—”

The rest of Ramiel’s sentence is lost as a bread roll smacks him in the middle of his obnoxious gob. The smirk that he’s wearing as he catches the falling bread roll is almost worse, however.

“At least nothing is on fire?” Daniel supplies with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Daniel, if you’re considered normal, it is in spite of all of us,” Israfel informs him drolly.

“Normal is overrated. Besides, next to Josie? I think just about anyone could be considered normal,” Daniel responds.

You preemptively reach over and step on Michael’s toes to prevent something uncouth from pouring out of his mouth.

Michael looks affronted, but it’s better than the alternative.

Lucifer yawns, and shakes the empty wine bottle. “So, are we going to get to the elephant in the room or not?”

Everyone else exchanges glances, you hunting for the source of the leak and finding wide-eyed innocence—Daniel—resigned sibling apathy—Israfel—a mixture of amusement and the knowledge that he’s going to get in trouble no matter what he does—Ramiel—and finally panic verging on stubborn refusal—Michael.

“There’s no pachyderm in the room, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ever predictable, Michael,” Lucifer comments with a sigh, elegant fingers wrapped around the stem of his goblet. That’s not the dishware you had set on the table to begin with, but you’ve been around Lucifer long enough to cease being surprised by his quirks, such as altering his surrounding to suit his aesthetic. The first few times he had visited you had found various pieces of furniture changed, or one time, an entire painting that hadn’t been there before. You kept the latter—Da Vinci holds a special place in your heart, and you were the inspiration behind it.

“How?” you ask.

Lucifer arches one elegant eyebrow. “How? My dear, I have been around since before any of you were even a thought. I’ve observed worlds come into existence and be snuffed out. I’ve even been pregnant before—the signs are not difficult to discern.”

He lifts his glass, liquid filling it from the bottom up, a deep blood red wine. “Not to mention that you forget that the wards on this building keep auras and the like undetectable from those on the outside. I could feel my grandchild the second I entered the building.”

“My child,” Michael corrects, scowling.

“Ours,” you say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“Hopefully they take after their mother and not their father,” Lucifer says, draining his glass. “And you’ve known I’m Gabriel’s father longer than anyone, Michael. You can’t deny I’m part of the family. In fact, I think humans might even consider me your father-in-law.”

The horror on Michael’s face makes you sigh. Back to zero.

“You’re a Fallen now, Michael. There’s no Host to condemn you for dating the ‘Devil’s’ daughter. Hell, I wager there’s a few Fallen who would envy your position.” Lucifer’s eyes flick to Ramiel.

Ramiel clears his throat and sinks down in his chair.

“Alright, enough. Michael, get over it.” Michael turns to you, and you look at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m Fallen. You’re Fallen. Everyone here has black wings. Pointing fingers is literally like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Cookware doesn’t speak.”

You can feel an impending headache.

“On the plus side, since Michael is pure Fallen, he doesn’t require sleep like you.” Lucifer’s smirk is wicked. “So every midnight crying, every two am feeding… I think that’s his by default.”

You perk up. “That’s a very good point father,” you say, pleased to see that no one has appropriated the cutlery for a preemptive strike.

Israfel quirks his lips. “Would a onesie with the word’s Little Angel be considered ironic then?” he wonders.

A laugh, perhaps a tinge hysterical, bubbles from your lips. It spreads, Ramiel starting to chuckle, then Daniel, Lucifer, Israfel’s light lyrical chuckle, and lastly even your mate.

“This isn’t funny,” Michael tries to say while trying to contain his own laughter.

 You shrug. “Matter of perspective, love. I prefer puns to fireballs.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” Lucifer comments. “I want dessert first, and then I might threaten to introduce Michael to a few of the old, extraplanar creatures that go bump in the night. Burnt feathers is a smell that doesn’t come out of your clothes easily.”

Michael’s laughter stops completely. “That was a joke, right?”

You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind. That Gabriel was gone and wishing him to come back wasn't going to work. You could beg Gabriel to go back to normal and nothing would do any good!

"Y/n?"

You turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway. You turned back to the cake that you had started in the past few moments.

"Yeah?"

Gabriel looked at you curiously.

"So this is the part I ask you what's wrong?"

You sniffed, holding back her frustrated tears.

"Nothing."

"You know, sugar, this whole nothing I'm not talking is really irritating. How am I supposed to help you if you won't talk"

You stood stagnant for a moment. All of your emotions from the past couple of moments overwhelmed you like never before. You could tell Gabriel everything. You could also tell him that if he wanted to know so bad he could always read your mind. It wasn't like he didn't mind doing it anyway so why was this time different? You were so used to Gabriel telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself or stop worrying so much about the Winchesters. Now here he stood looking clueless.

"Gabriel, me talking to you about my problems but you not telling me shit about what happened while you were dead is really annoying. We can't have a decent relationship without some honesty. I hold tight to you and the Bible but I am losing some faith somewhere."

Gabriel was quiet for a few moments. You could tell almost instantly that he was angry. Time to start looking for a helmet!

"That's different."

You rolled your eyes.

"That's different...that is what you always say! It's not different at all. You always get your way but I never do. Before you start patronizing me...our relationship is nothing but give and take. I will always keep giving and you will keep taking until I have nothing left to give. That's okay with you but it isn't with me."

Gabriel's face was unreadable for a moment. He didn't bother looking into the living room as he took team free will's hearing away for the moment. The last thing that he wanted was to have to face a pissed off Bobby Singer again. He knew that Bobby was not the least bit a Gabriel fan.

"I know what you want Y/n and my answer is no. I am not telling you anything."

You was quite a moment before taking the butcher block out and sitting a head of lettuce on it. Standing motionless for a moment, you took a breath  before taking a butcher knife and angrily slicing the thing in half in a brutal manner.

The archangel gazed at you with a raised eyebrow.

"So uh...am I supposed to be frightened by your little outburst there? I don't know if I should be amused or feel sorry for the lettuce. Poor thing didn't have a chance when you picked up that butcher knife."

You scowled even harder.

"You better be glad that you don't eat food because I might poison you right now"

Gabriel chuckled and put a hand to his heart in a mock fashion.

"Oh boy, you broke my poor fragile little heart, sugar. I am so sad!"

You turned back to the lettuce and continued your act of debauchery.

"You have no heart anymore."

Gabriel laughed again.

"That poor poor lettuce. You really shouldn't take out your displeasure with Sam and myself on a vegetable. I guess you all will be having tacos after you cut it up that much."

You turned.

"Why do you care about some damn vegetable than you do my feeling?"

Gabriel was quiet again. He was debating on telling you some of what happened with Asmodeus. It wouldn't be wise though. Gabriel knew that you would go into angry tiger mode and go after evil Colonel Sanders. He internally shivered just thinking about it. You wouldn’t stand little to no chance. Gabriel worried about his ability to even be able to save you. If Asmodeus had the opportunity to destroy something he would. Gabriel, archangel or not, may not be able to do much.

"Jeez Louise woman, turn down the volume! I don't think they will be able to hear you in outer Mongolia! It's not about the lettuce. It's about you not needing to be privy to stuff you won't understand."

You spun around. This time you chucked the half-destroyed head of lettuce at Gabriel. He didn't move when it hit him square in the chest.

"I don't know why you think that I am some delicate porcelain doll, Gabriel! Like Dean has said previously, we see things that will send most people howling to the nut house! I am not going to go falling apart or become suicidal. I know that you've been through hell but I wish you would stop blocking me out."

Gabriel's golden eyes became dark.

"I'm not telling you shit. You might as well accept it."

You threw the butcher knife down and went to walk past Gabriel. The archangel's hand reached out grabbing yours.

"You aren't going anywhere."

You yanked your hand away which resulted in your elbow crashing in the countertop. Yelping in pain, you cradled your now throbbing elbow. You avoided Gabriel when he reached out. It didn't matter that this time he wanted to heal her.

"Watch me."

You snapped. Gabriel sighed.

"You are going to have to talk to me sometime."

You shook your head. This time the look in your eyes was different. Gabriel was used to the stupid arguments but something this time was off.

"Y/n."

"I'm done Gabriel. I give up."

You turned walking from the room without another word almost crashing into Jack in the process.

"Sorry."

You muttered. Jack didn't say anything for a moment before focusing his attention on his uncle's devastated face. He had gotten used to Gabriel's angry and hostile attitude. Jack had dismissed it due to the horrors in his past but the expression on his face was devastating. Jack had listened to your bickering with mild interest. There had been a few times that he wanted to tell Gabriel to not say something that had just left the archangel's mouth.

"Gabriel?"

His uncle didn't even look up.

"Huh?"

Jack tilted his head.

"Do you think that you should go after her?"

Gabriel turned. He didn't make a facial expression as he looked that his nephew. The kid was too innocent at times. He didn't know enough about the world or relationships to really know what would be best in this situation. Hell, in ways, Gabriel didn't know what would be best either. Part of him wanted to go after you but the other part that typically won wanted no part of it.

"Nope. Look, kid, just a heads up when they are like that it's best to let 'em go."

Jack frowned, clearly thinking.

"How is the best? I thought talking was the best solution for problems with a significant other."

Gabriel smirked.

"All right, Cas Jr. look...stuff with Y/n and I are different."

Jack was quiet again for a few moments.

"Can I tell you how she is feeling?"

Gabriel groaned.

"I know kid. I can sense it. I am not that big of a prick."

Jack didn't give his uncle much of a time to object before he started speaking.

"She feels let down, depressed, and wonders if she is wasting her time. Sam really hurt her earlier and now this with you. She doesn't seem to understand what she has done that would warrant her such a hard time. Do you want her feeling that way?"

Gabriel groaned. He wanted Jack to mind his own business but he couldn't. Something about the kid just made Gabriel feel a little better about the world.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice kiddo. I'm out for a bit."

Gabriel vanished without another word leaving Jack standing alone in the kitchen. With a shrug, Jack walked back into the living room to join his family. He could only tell Gabriel so much. If he listened or not would have to be the archangel's choice.

Meanwhile,

Sitting down at the bar, Gabriel looked down at his phone hoping to see something from you. He knew better than to even think that you would even want to talk to him. He put his phone away as the bartender walked over.

"What can I get you, sir?"

Gabriel looked around at the booze selection around him. At the moment he didn't want to feel anything. Being numb sounded almost heavenly!

"Give me your strongest whatever you have and double it."

The bartender blinked a few times looking around the shelf before looking back at Gabriel. The poor man looked a tad worried.

"Do you want to not feel or anything or meet God?"

Gabriel smirked.

"Meeting god sounds lovely. Fucker has been gone way too long."

The bartender winced nodding. He was tempted to tell the man in front of him that he may want to reconsider the drinking and just go the chapel around the corner. That may offer a better outcome.

"Well, okay then. Two shots of Everclear it is then. So are you at war with your liver?"

Gabriel's golden eyes didn't look up.

"You could say that."

The bartender got the message and put the two shots in front of him. Gabriel downed one not even making a face. The bartender walked to the side of the room taking the mop he had waiting for such cases as this and moved it closer. He watched Gabriel for a few moments. Something was different about this guy and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was something uncommonly beautiful about him.

"So girl trouble or uh….boy trouble?"

Gabriel's golden eyes rolled up at that comment. He raised an eyebrow.

"Girl trouble."

The bartender nodded silently.

"So I can't just keep giving you this stuff because if you go out and die it will be on us….if you want to try something that isn't going to burn your innards out let me know. Should I call your girl?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"No you aren't calling my girlfriend and I'm not going to die."

The bartender sighed. He was used to alcoholics like this. This was his typical day. He was just waiting for his shift to end and find Gabriel passed out behind the bar.

“If you think that you are immortal best of luck to you. Just keep your clothes on man. Do you drink like this often?"

"Occasionally."

Gabriel replied, dryly. The bartender looked a little startled.

"So how are you still alive?"

Gabriel smirked.

"God's good graces I suppose."

"Well, best of luck to you then. If you need anything let me know. Please don't fall over dead in here…I don't want that kind of karma on me."

The bartender gave up his attempts at trying to figure Gabriel at this point and sauntered off.

Gabriel quietly scowled at the drink in his hand. The stuff really tasted like shit and he was still feeling “things.”

"Damn archangel powers."

He muttered as his cell phone began to ring. Seeing Dean's name, Gabriel rolled his eyes. The last person that he wanted to talk to was the eldest Winchester.

"What?"

He answered coldly. Dean wasn't the least bit surprised by Gabriel's sour greeting.

"Hello to you too sunshine. Just curious if you took Y/n with you to wherever you disappeared off to?"'

Gabriel frowned.

"No, she hates me at the moment. Why do you ask?"

Dean's voice was definitely worried now!

"Well, loverboy she isn't here."

Gabriel's eyes widened.

"What do you mean she isn't there?"

Gabriel hissed into the phone. Dean immediately started yelling.

"Son of a bitch, Gabriel, what do you want me to say? She isn't here! She is gone. Does that make sense to you?

Gabriel growled angrily into the phone before snapping the thing in half. This was definitely the cherry on the top of an awful day ice cream Sunday! When you stormed upstairs, Gabriel never expected for you to wiggle your way out the window! Did you shimmy your way down the drain pipe? Whatever you did at this point didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was finding you and getting you home before Lucifer or worse Asmodeus found you.

___________

@supernaturalways

@hankypranky

@flyawayprincess

@wontlookaway

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@authoressskr

@marichromatic

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@fand0maniac

@emiwrites3reads

@li0nh34rt

@sprnaturallover

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@killtherandomness