#sabrifer

Of all the ways Sam thought they would stop the Apocalypse, a threesome with the devil and his trickster(-pagan-angel-whatever label Gabriel wanted these days) brother wasn’t high on the list. Not on the list at all, which was a feat, considering it had been a short list consisting of “Kill Lucifer (somehow)” and “Kill Michael (somehow.)”

It had taken a fatal stabbing. Sam could have done without that part. He’s full up on people sacrificing themselves for him, and he didn’t need Gabriel adding himself to the pile. Dean might have asked for that, (and nowadays, the memory of that sacrifice was what pulled Dean onto the side of accepting Sam’s new... partners) but Sam didn’t. He hadn’t even liked Gabriel that much back then, but he preferred him as a potential ally and thorn in their side than as a dead man.

Said fatal stabbing, and two weeks of radio silence on Lucifer’s end of the Apocalypse, and then one extremely distraught and half out of his mind from grief archangel invading Sam’s dreams to ask him for help in undoing what he had done. If Lucifer had seemed efficient in directing the end of the world, then that was nothing compared to trying to resurrect his brother. He brought Sam everything he asked for, every book and spell ingredient and even offered his own grace to bring Gabriel back. Sam could have taken advantage of him. He didn’t. At the time, he didn’t know if that was the right choice.

Now, squished between two archangels on a bed that was definitely big enough to give them space to spread out, he knew it had been.

It hadn’t been easy. Not the resurrection or what came after, nursing Gabriel back to health on Sam’s part or earning his forgiveness on Lucifer’s. There was still a lot more to do to keep the world intact. Gabriel seemed confident that convincing Raphael to their side was the right way to go, that three archangels against Michael might make their brother think twice about what he was doing, especially with Lucifer less and less inclined towards destroying everything with each passing day.

(Dean was not right when he joked that Lucifer getting laid was the secret to saving the world.

But he wasn’t exactly wrong, either.)

Gabriel snorts in his sleep and kicks lightly, disturbing the covers. Lucifer curls closer into Sam, hand sleepily stroking Gabriel’s waist where he laid on Sam’s other side. Neither of them need sleep, but Gabriel had developed the habit a long time ago and Lucifer was curious enough to give it a try. Sam reaps the benefits by being the nexus of their cuddle pile every night they join him in bed, Gabriel on his left radiating heat and Lucifer stealing it all on his right.

Sam’s got lazy morning arousal curling in his gut, teased out by the way Lucifer’s squirming against him to steal even more of Sam’s warmth. His leg slides innocuously between Sam’s thighs, but there’s enough sense memory there that Sam shivers and turns his head to press a kiss to Lucifer’s temple. They’d done that at some point last night, rutted against each other until they both came. He could remember the way Lucifer tensed up as it happened, still caught off-guard by his own orgasms, and that expression being what tipped Sam over the edge as well. He could remember Gabriel pushing them apart afterwards and licking the mess clean (though, really, only making it worse.) Lucifer twitching and gasping from overstimulation as Gabriel licked over his folds was a sight Sam was never going to forget.

Lucifer is waking up. He grumbles unhappily against Sam’s shoulder at this turn of affairs. When Sam runs his fingers through his hair, that seems to ease him a little, turning the grumble into a pleased sigh. “Good morning,” Sam greets.

“If you say so.” Lucifer doesn’t open his eyes, like the longer he can pretend he’s still sleeping, the longer he can convince Sam to stay in bed with him. Sam’s starting to be convinced that pride isn’t actually his greatest sin at all, but sloth. 

It’s hardly a sin if it’s cute, though, and Lucifer, grouchy and half-asleep, was definitely cute. Sam won’t dare say that out loud (or think it too hard, because he’s still not clear on how much of his thoughts the archangels can pick up on.)

”Feeling a little left out over here,” Gabriel says, and for good measure, he nips at Sam’s shoulder blade. That’s what Sam gets for turning his back on a trickster. He rolls over. 

For about ten seconds, Sam gets to enjoy Lucifer snuggling into one side and Gabriel sitting up on the other one, smiling down at him. 

And then Gabriel’s face falls so fast, Sam’s fight or flight kicks in. Gabriel’s head jerks towards Lucifer and he all but hisses out, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lucifer doesn’t react. Sam’s not sure he knows Gabriel was speaking to him. 

“Um,” Sam begins.

“You’re older!” Gabriel snaps, which is when Lucifer finally opens his eyes and squints up at him. “How am I more careful than you?”

”What are you talking about?” Lucifer asks. He yawns.

”I’d also like to know,” Sam adds. He doesn’t often get treated like a third wheel, but the few times he has been, it’s been just like this, confusing and full of accusations he doesn’t understand but does get are meant to hurt more than prove any real point. He’d at least like to know what set Gabriel off.

”You’re pregnant,” Gabriel says.

Sam's brain refuses to process that.

"What?" he says, more to drown out the buzzing shock that's taken up residence in his head than ask an actual question. It gets ignored either way.

"At least you've got the decency to carry it yourself and not make some poor human"—Sam's brain comes online long enough to register that he's the poor human in that description, but it shuts down again before he can come up with a comeback—"deal with it, but... Don't you know how to use protection?" Sam looks over at Lucifer, hoping that he's going to reveal that this is all some elaborate prank. If it is, Sam will cheer because it means Gabriel and Lucifer are close enough to gang up on him. Instead, Lucifer looks like he's also shut down.

"We don't use condoms," he says, like he's unsure if that's the answer Gabriel wants. Gabriel should already know that, since he's the only one whose vessel sometimes has a dick to put them on.

"I'm talking about a higher power interfering. Your grace's built-in antivirus for nephilim. Should have kept your angel eggs from being fertilized, if you were paying any attention at all."

"You lay eggs?" Sam's voice sounds precariously high-pitched. Gabriel looks at him like he's an idiot.

"The state of sex-ed in America... No, we don't lay eggs, Sam. You knocked Lucifer up. With a baby. Live birth. You're a mammal; you've got personal experience."

"That's not possible."

"You fucked him, didn't you?"

"My dick is made of plastic!" The offending object in question is probably strewn on the floor somewhere.

"And even your strap game isn't that good." Gabriel drawls. He still sounds annoyed, but his voice is lowering again. "It doesn't matter. You had sex. Sex makes babies." He turns his gaze back on Lucifer. "The problem is that it shouldn't have happened. He knows how to prevent it."

"Gabriel," Lucifer says, very quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Instinctively, Sam reaches for him. Lucifer sounds shaken, and Sam can count the times he's heard that note in his voice on one hand, most of them occurring right after Gabriel's temporary death. On his other side, when Sam turns his head to check, Gabriel's stopped scowling in frustration at Lucifer. He looks confused now, his eyes darting over his brother.

"We can get humans pregnant. And you're aware of that, right?" Lucifer doesn't answer. "Right?" Lucifer still doesn't answer. Gabriel exhales in one quick puff. "And particularly stubborn ones can get us pregnant."

"But he doesn't have the parts for that," Sam interrupts.

"Nick had a child,” Lucifer says as he sits up. The sheets slide off him. Sam looks down at the scar he'd assumed was from a hysterectomy. He hadn't even considered that it could be from a c-section instead.

"And even if he didn't, his grace would make it work," Gabriel finishes.

"How-"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Sam." Sam has enough self-preservation instincts to shut his mouth but not to keep it shut for very long.

”How do you know about this?”

“Experience.” 

"You had a kid?"

"I've had a few kids," Gabriel says, bluntly, in the way that means, I don't want to talk about it, and if you push me, I will make your life a living hell of ten thousand tiny annoyances. You will get shocked every time you take your clothes out of the dryer for the rest of time, and you’ll always know it was because of this.

So, Sam turns back to Lucifer. The facts of this are beginning to settle in. Lucifer. Pregnancy. Lucifer, pregnant, with Sam’s kid. Human kid? Angel kid? Something in between? 

Lucifer doesn’t look very good. 

“Hey,” Sam says, trying to keep his own voice as soothing as he can. He rests a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. The muscle underneath his fingers is stiff as steel, and absently, Sam works his thumb against Lucifer’s back. “You aren’t trapped like this. We can figure out a way to stop it, and we’ll be more careful next time to keep it from happening again.” Lucifer turns to look at him, confused.

”What?” 

“I could do it,” Gabriel offers. “I have before. Announced a few pregnancies, terminated others, all in a day’s work.” 

If Sam had to describe the expression on Lucifer’s face… he might call it heartbroken. 

“You don’t want a child with me,” he says, and it’s not a question but a statement of fact, so sure of his own grasp of the situation, and as ever with Lucifer, so completely wrong about what’s actually causing strife between the three of them.

Sam’s never considered having a kid before. With Jess, he’d briefly tossed around the idea of adopting, far in the future, but having his own? Now? With Lucifer and Gabriel? It had to be one of his most batshit ideas, but at the same time… Who else would any of child of his be safer with? 

And it’s watching Lucifer that convinces him. Lucifer hasn’t had the chance to be anything to the world but death and destruction in so long, and here he is with life blooming inside him. 

“Of course we-“ Sam pauses. His mind is made up, but he won’t speak for Gabriel, not without knowing he’s behind this all the way. This is a far bigger commitment than occasional threesomes. 

Sam’s not sure if he loves Gabriel the way he loves Lucifer (and he knows he doesn’t love him the way Lucifer does, but it’s a little unfair to compare his feelings to the intense devotion of an archangel), but he could. More importantly, would he trust him with his child?

He’s not that surprised the answer is yes.

Unreadable emotions flicker fast behind Gabriel’s eyes, and then, finally, he nods. 

“We do,” he says. He crawls over Sam and into Lucifer’s lap to kiss the shock away. “Don’t make that face. You’re the one babytrapping us.” 

“It wasn’t intentional,” Lucifer protests, and Gabriel steals another kiss to shut him up. 

They’re actually going to do this, Sam realizes. Something giddy bubbles up in his chest. He got Lucifer pregnant, and that thought isn’t laced with panic or disbelief but euphoric glee. 

“Now you’re both making stupid faces,” Gabriel says, and Sam can’t make himself stop grinning. He placates Gabriel by hiding his face in the crook of Lucifer’s neck, pressing kisses up to his jaw. Lucifer leans into him, his arms wrapped around Gabriel, content between them.

Sam’s content, too, right up until he remembers that he’s going to have to explain himself to Dean.