#midamappreciationweek

The kid was a bottomless pit.

Gabriel wasn’t exactly a stranger to gluttony, but for the love of God! Even an archangel like him couldn't inhale three massive burgers, two large fries, and God-knows-how-many liters of Coke without so much as blinking.

Not at seventeen, anyway.

"Hey, champ! You might want to try breathing every once in a while? Nobody’s gonna steal your food, I promise."

Adam laughed, thumping his chest to help the last bite go down. "Sorry. But ever since I met Mike, I’ve been starving 24/7. It’s like my metabolism got stuck in 'nuclear turbine' mode."

Gabriel took a long, noisy slurp of his chocolate Frosty, his eyes darting toward the silent, towering figure hovering behind the kid.

Michael was just… standing there.

Not lurking, not brooding—well, okay, he was definitely brooding—but he was hovering with this protective intensity that didn't fit the "Apocalypse-Optimus Prime" vibe Gabriel remembered.

And what made it worse? His big brother looked just a like worn-out, older version of the kid, a copy left out in the rain for a few thousand years.

Creepy-cute? Nah. Definitely just creepy.

Gabriel leaned in, lowering his voice. The other patrons couldn't hear them anyway, but he couldn't resist the very 'My name’s Bond, James Bond' moment.

"So, someone wanna tell me how the hell that happened? I mean, Michael was never the type to deviate from Daddy’s blueprints. He was..."

"A total buzzkill?" Adam offered with a grin.

"Bingo! The kid’s sharp!"

Adam wiped the grease off his chin with a napkin. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. I met Mike a year ago. At first, it was just these crazy-ass dreams: 'I am the Firstborn of the Lord, blah blah blah.'

I thought I was losing it. But then we actually started talking, and, I don’t know, we just clicked. I guess nothing bonds people better than having total dumpster fires for families.

Though, for real, your dad is almost worse than mine. The guy makes a massive mess of everything and then just ghosts everyone like a total deadbeat".

Michael stiffened, his jaw tightening as he stared at the food on their boot. "I don't like talking about my Father, Adam. You know how I feel about him."

"I know, Halo. No more God-bashing for you. Don't worry". The kid took a sip of his coke. "Anyway, these ghouls John was supposed to have iced twenty years ago just show up. Boom. Suddenly, me and Mom are on the menu. If it wasn't for Mike, we’d be fertilizer by now."

Gabriel let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter. "Well, look at that! My big brother, the prince charming".

"Cut it out, Gabriel," Michael snapped at the jape. "I did what was necessary."

"And after saving us, he stayed. We became family."

Gabriel popped another fry into his mouth, chewing slowly.

This Michael was… off. He couldn't recall a single moment in the last few millennia where his brother hadn't been anything but Daddy’s precious general. Seeing him now, acting like a guardian? A pet owner? It was deeply, disturbingly wrong.

What the hell was so fascinating about Adam Milligan?

It wasn’t like the kid was some cosmic powerhouse or a secret weapon designed by the Almighty.

He was so... human.

Brash, stubborn, and blissfully unaware that he was currently treating an Archangel like a golden retriever with a personality disorder.

Maybe that was it. Adam looked at the most terrifying weapon in Heaven and saw a guy who needed a reminder that his Father was a deadbeat.

This kid's lack of reverence was intoxicating.

Gabriel studied Michael’s posture, the way the Archangel seemed to breathe easier just by standing in the human's orbit.

"You're a strange one, Milligan."

Adam gave him a casual, dismissive shrug in return. "He's just Mike for me, you know? Humans, archangels... we’ve all got baggage. Some of us just carry it in better than others."

"Just Mike," Gabriel repeated softly, shaking his head. "You have no idea what kind of fire you're playing with, do you kid? And somehow... that's the most entertaining thing I've seen in centuries. But back to your story, this absentee father of yours... was he a hunter?"

"Oh, yeah. Though he wasn't really a 'father.' More like a sperm donor with a shitty attitude. Rolled into town, knocked Mom up, and vanished into the sunset."

"A classic."

"Tell me about it," Adam sighed, finally having a pause from his food. "And his other kids aren't much better. I asked Mike to introduce me to them, and let’s just say it didn't go well. They looked at me like they wanted to mail me directly to the deepest pit in Hell. Just because John Winchester decided to get busy with someone who wasn't their mom."

Gabriel took a smug swig of his chocolate Frosty, but at the mention of the name, the liquid took a detour. He sputtered, spraying a fine mist of chocolate across the table, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"WHAT?!" Gabriel choked, wheezing for air, his face turning a shade of purple. "YOU'RE A WINCHESTER??"

"Milligan!" Adam and Michael barked in perfect, synchronized annoyance.

Gabriel wiped his nose with his sleeve, looking between them like he’d just discovered that God was actually a sentient ham sandwich. "You're telling me, I went to the ends of the Earth to dodge the Winchesters, only to end up tripping over their long-lost little brother?"

He let out a short, sharp bark of laughter that sounded suspiciously like a man finally losing his grip on reality. "'Surprise, Gabe! You can run, but you can't hide from the flannel-clad, family-trauma-magnet!"

Adam winced. "You’ve had to deal with Sam and Dean? Man, I am so sorry."

Gabriel beamed with theatrical indignation. "Finally, someone who gets it! I was just there, minding my own business, dispensing a little bit of divine justice, and what do they do? They try to impale me with a sharpened stake. Like I’m some common, garden-variety vampire!"

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply "Strangely, I find it difficult to believe things happened exactly like that."

"Oh, wait! I want to hear this!" Adam chimed in. "Please, tell me you’ve seen that face Dean makes. You know, the constipated scowl he wears when he talks about 'the family business'."

A wicked spark ignited in Gabriel’s gaze. "I know! And Sam! Our favorite confused Moose! The way he… swooshes that hair around? It should be illegal! I mean, how am I supposed to teach a guy a life lesson when I’m constantly worried he’s going to whip his head back and give himself a concussion with those bangs?"

Adam chuckled, the tension in the air finally breaking, and even Michael let out a sound—a very faint, very dry huff of amusement.

"See?" Gabriel pointed a finger at Michael, his grin widening. "Even the stick-in-the-mud thinks it’s funny! Dad should have made Sammy-boy... I don't know, bald! Much more practical!"

At the mention of 'Dad,' the humor vanished from the table faster than a soul in a demon deal. Michael’s expression darkened instantly, his features settling into a mask of cold, celestial stone.

The air in the cafeteria dropped ten degrees, the ozone tang returning with a vengeance, making the plastic trays on the tables rattle.

Gabriel’s grin didn't falter, though his eyes sharpened, catching the shift. He knew he was dancing on the edge of a blade, but that was exactly where he preferred to be.

"Whoa, easy there, Tiger," he teased, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though he didn't look remotely repentant. "I know, I know. 'Don't talk about the Big Guy.' But seriously, look at you—you’re like a pressurized steam vent, brother. You hold it all in, and then you wonder why you’re always one minor inconvenience away from starting another Apocalypse."

At his words, Michael stiffened. He didn't look up, his knuckles white against the booth as he stared at the table.

Adam, however, didn't even blink. He reached out, his hand finding Michael’s arm, grounding him with the simple, human weight of a touch that defied all heavenly protocol.

"Stop tormenting yourself, Halo. I’ve already told you: your dad doesn’t deserve you. If he’s an asshole, you don’t have to be one too. You can be better than that," Adam reassured him, ignoring the Trickster entirely.

Gabriel's straw froze halfway to his mouth. The Archangel blinked, almost as the boy had just grown a second head. "Did you... did you just call God an asshole?"

"Isn't he?"

For the first time in his long, long life Gabriel was left speechless.

He braced himself for a flash of white light, waiting for his brother to turn the kid into a pillar of salt for the sheer, blasphemous audacity.

But Michael didn't smite. He didn't even flare with wrath. Instead, he leaned into Adam’s touch, his features softening into something deeply, painfully human.

"Mickey... are you actually letting a half-Winchester lecture you on our Father?"

Michael released a long, weary sigh. "Adam is right, Gabriel. He is not lecturing me."

Gabriel stared at him, his smirk sliding right off his face. Did he just... agree?

He threw his head back, letting out a sharp, incredulous huff. "Oh, that’s rich. The Apocalypse is off the table, and my big brother is suddenly taking life lessons from a teenager. What the heck?!"

He flicked his gaze between them, from Michael’s suspiciously softened demeanor to the brat’s defiant, youthful chin and...

Wait a second.

What was that?

It wasn't just an agreement.

That quiet, pathetic devotion.

Don't tell me.

No, absolutely not. Mickey wasn't acting like some lovesick schoolboy with a crush, was he?

Gabriel turned his attention back to the kid. The way Adam was watching Michael... that wasn't just 'family' or 'trust.'

It was raw, unadulterated adoration.

Oh, gag me.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

Mickey had a thing. A literal, crush-y thing for the kid!

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, masking the fact that he was absolutely losing his mind. Everything suddenly made sense, and it was the most nauseating thing he’d ever witnessed.

"I don't believe it," Gabriel wheezed, shaking his head in mock horror. "You two are absolutely sickening. Someone pass me a bucket, I think I’m going to lose my lunch."

@bethmints @gem-wildee

The air in the room felt like it was about to explode.

"Seriously, G," Gabriel teased, lazily flicking a poker chip into the center of the table. "You’re going to give yourself a stroke over a pair of twos. It’s a game. Don't blow a fuse over it."

Ganesha let out a huff that sounded like a steam engine, his trunk curling defensively. "I haven't seen a decent card in ages, Loki. One more bad hand, and I’m turning this motel into a smoking crater."

Across from them, Odin sat perfectly still, his one eye locked on the deck. The air around him shimmered with magic; honestly, he wasn't even trying to be subtle about his attempt to peek at the future.

Gabriel sighed, leaning back and propping his feet on the edge of the table. Why did he still play with them? He really needed new friends.

"Odin, buddy, please! Try to lose with a little dignity."

"I am not losing," the All-Father growled, checking his cards again. "I am... waiting for the threads of Fate to align in my favor."

"Yeah, well, the threads of Fate are currently telling me you're about to get cleaned out," Gabriel remarked, though his heart wasn't in the game. His attention wasn't on the cards, the furious elephant-god, or the Norse King trying to cheat his way out of losing his favorite horse. His focus was entirely on the woman to his left.

Kali hadn't said a word in the last twenty minutes. She just sat there, swirling a glass of dark red wine, her eyes sharp and amused as she watched the petty bickering.

When she felt Gabriel’s gaze on her, she didn't shy away. Instead, she leaned in, her shoulder brushing against his, a fluid and deliberate invitation.

"You're awfully chatty tonight, my clever Loki," she purred, her voice a low, melodic sound that seemed to bypass everyone else in the room. She shifted, her knee grazing his under the table—an electric jolt that made Gabriel’s breath hitch. "Is this your way of distracting us from your bluffing?"

Gabriel let out a laugh that was a little breathier than he intended.

He closed the space between them until he could smell the faint scent of jasmine and gunpowder that always clung to her.

"Bluffing? Me? I’m offended, sweetheart," he whispered back. "I’m just enjoying the view. Although, I have to say, the view is significantly more distracting than the game."

Kali’s lips quirked into a slow, wicked smile. She reached out, her fingers dancing lightly over the back of his hand before she took a slow sip of her drink.

"If you're so distracted," she added softly, "then maybe you should end this night. I find I've grown quite tired of hearing Odin complain about his luck."

Gabriel felt a grin spread across his face—the real one, not the mask he wore for the others. He looked at the pile of chips, then back at her, his expression turning sharp and eager. "You know, I’ve been thinking the exact same thing. Why are we wasting our time with these dinosaurs when we could be... doing literally anything else?"

"Are you asking me to leave?" Kali teased.

"I’m asking you to save me from this nightmare," he replied, standing up and offering his arm with a sweeping, courtly flourish.

Kali took it, hooking her arm through his with a playful tilt of her head.

"Ganesha can have the table. There's this little Italian joint... their spaghetti is genuinely sinful."

The goddess looked at his hand, then up at his face, her ruby lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Finally. I thought you'd never get the hint."

With a mischievous grin, the archangel prepared to whisk her away, but the moment shattered before he could even move; the brassy, high-energy opening riff of Cherry Bomb exploded into the room.

Hello, Daddy, hello, Mom / I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch, cherry bomb / Hello, world, I'm your wild girl / I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch, cherry bomb

"Seriously? Right now?" He groaned, pulling the phone from his pocket. His mood soured instantly when he saw the caller ID: Adam (The Flannel-Clad Headache).

He should’ve known that giving the kid a direct line would come back to bite his ass, but he’d underestimated just how quickly.

Gabriel shot a fleeting, apologetic glance at Kali, his frustration mounting; this call was the death knell for any chance of tonight going the way he’d hoped. He swiped to answer.

"Hello? You’ve reached the Trickster. I’m currently busy with a very sexy, hot lady, so leave a message at the sound of the beep—or don't, I really don't care."

"Hey, Gabriel! It’s Adam!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Adam, my favorite mortal! How’s the honeymoon phase going with my big, brooding brother? Still staring into each other's eyes while the world burns, or are you guys already picking out curtains for your little love nest?"

"Uh, good I guess? But it’s kind of an emergency."

Gabriel sighed, the sound echoing with the weight of someone who had spent too many millennia dealing with heavenly temper tantrums. "Seriously, kid? Our last hang-out was intense enough to last me a few centuries, but—"

"Michael won’t answer."

Gabriel’s hand hovered over the table. A card—the Ace of Spades—slipped through his fingers and hit the felt with a sound like a guillotine blade. The entire room went cold.

"What?!"

"We were walking home from school, and then we just… blacked out? Can an archangel black out? Because I have no idea how we got here."

"Here where, kiddo?"

"I’m not sure. The room is completely white and there’s this guy, Zachariah? He’s going on and on about how Michael has to 'start the Apocalypse,' and Mike… he’s just—he’s kind of on standby. I mean, I can feel his Grace inside me, but he won’t answer my prayers—"

"Hold on, what?!"

"I didn't know who else to call. Zachariah has left us alone for now, but he is gonna come back and I don't know what to do. I’m stuck here, and your number is the only one my phone can actually reach."

The Trickster took a sharp, rattling breath. He rubbed his face, his skin flushing with a sudden, divine heat. He had known it. He had known that kid was a walking catastrophe, a magnet for every piece of celestial baggage in the galaxy.

"Stay right where you are, kid. Don’t move, I’m coming. And for the love of everything Holy and Unholy, don't say 'yes' to anything!"

"Okay? But please, hurry up. I'm worried for Mike."

Gabriel hung up. The phone dissolved into golden dust, leaving his hand empty and trembling with suppressed power.

For a split second, the dim lighting of the poker room didn't just flicker: it screamed. The ceiling tiles rattled as his Grace bled out, painting the walls in impossible, shifting colors.

Odin narrowed his one eye, his hand hovering over his spear. "Trouble, Loki?"

Gabriel turned, his grin returning, but it was thinner now—razor-sharp and devoid of mirth. He flipped the entire table over with a single flick of his index finger. Chips, cards, and golden goblets scattered like confetti.

"Change of plans, guys," Gabriel replied, his voice shedding any playfulness left. "Apparently, my brother’s little boy-toy has triggered a magical lockdown, and I’m the only one with the key to his cage."

He squeezed Kali’s arm in a silent, fleeting apology, before he kissed her cheek, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, celestial intensity that forced the other gods to look away. "My lady, save that fire. I’ll be back to reclaim it soon."

And with those words, the reality of the room began to buckle, folding inward with a thunderclap.

In a final, blinding flash of white-hot light, Gabriel vanished, leaving behind only the stinging scent of ozone and a heavy silence.

@gem-wildee, @bethmints

I've read many fics where Jack got Michael back from the Empty for a lot of reasons: Adam, to manage Heaven, someone to split his Power with, things like that.

But what about this: Michael never went to the Empty. When Chuck pulverized him, the fragments of his Grace simply remained there in the air. So after Jack brought all the humans back, Adam's soul naturally called for Michael's Grace: they had spent so much time together, that one could simply not exist without the other.