#uke-sama

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With a groan, Dean stretches his arms. He’s lying in his bed, that much he knows. He can’t open his eyes. The pounding in his skull won’t let him. He must have had a very fun night.

Fuck, that’s right. It’s the day after Christmas. And Sam made some killer eggnog. That’s about all Dean can remember so far. He needs coffee.

There’s not a lot he can do for now, besides rolling on the side, trying to push himself up in a sitting position. When he finally manages, he blinks a few times, trying to recover a sense of time. Is it morning? Afternoon? Isn’t his bed supposed to face the door? Wait… yes, he can see the light coming from the little gap under the door in front of him. He can’t believe he’s so disoriented. He must have really outdone himself the night before…

With a huff, he stands up. He walks blindly in the dark until he finds the little lamp above his bed, and turns it on. The sudden flash of the bulb lighting up sends a shockwave of pain zigzagging through his skull. He’s going to hurl. He’s sure of it.

The idea of coffee is not so appealing now, but he drags himself through the bunker and in the kitchen anyway. He finds some ibuprofen, for his headache, and stands in front of the coffee machine while it’s brewing. He thinks he falls asleep again for a moment, standing there with his eyes half open. He feels like he’s dying.

“Are you okay?”

Dean doesn’t even bother turning around. Castiel’s voice is soft and low, like he knows if he speaks any louder Dean’s head is going to explode. Dean groans in answer, too busy noticing that coffee’s done brewing and looking around for the mug he knows he left there next to the machine yesterday. When he finally finds it and pours himself a cup, Castiel is standing next to him, just staring.

Dean eyes him, taking a sip before staring back. “You look okay.”

“I’m an angel, Dean. I don’t get hungover.”

“Lucky bastard,” Dean mumbles, going to sit at the table.

He takes his head into his hands and huffs. God, he needs more than ibuprofen right now.

“What happened?” he asks.

Because he just remembers now that they actually celebrated Christmas, and he has no fucking clue of what they did. The night’s a blank in his mind.

“Exactly what Gabriel said would happen if you used that old rum bottle,” Castiel answers.

Dean hears the scrap of a chair being dragged on the tile floor. When he looks up Cas is sitting in front of him. Dean frowns.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes.”

“The Archangel.”

Castiel looks annoyed now. “Yes.”

“He was here?”

“You were the one who called him, remember?”

Dean tries to remember, he really does. But his brain just isn’t working. And, wait, isn’t Gabriel supposed to be dead?

“Gabriel’s alive?!”

Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. “We talked about it long before you started drinking.”

“Wh—“

“I told you I saw him about a year ago when Metatron kidnapped me,” Castiel interrupts. He stands up, going for the coffee pot Dean left on the counter. “I also told you I wasn’t sure it was really Gabriel. You suggested we try summoning him. It didn’t work.” He pours himself a cup and turn to Dean again, leaning back on the counter. “Then you suggested we summon Loki. And he appeared. And that’s why we started celebrating.” He takes a sip. “At yours and Gabriel’s insistence, I might add.”

Dean doesn’t move for a moment, trying to process all of this. So Gabriel’s alive, huh? And he stayed there, with them, and got hammered.

“Wow,” he breathes. “Okay.” He runs a hand on his mouth, pensive. “Where is he now?”

“I have no idea,” Cas sighs. “All I know is he went to bed with you.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“I also remember you were pretty loud. The both of you.”

“What do you mean?” Dean half laughs. Cas must be screwing with him. “Cut the shit out.”

But the intensity of Cas’s stare doesn’t falter, and Dean loses his smile. “We didn’t… I mean… when you say ‘went to bed with me you mean…”

Cas raises an eyebrow. Dean stands up abruptly, hangover almost forgotten.

“Where is Gabriel now?”

It can’t be real. Cas must be screwing with him, really. Some post-Christmas prank. He does feel the quiet contentment and pleasant ache in his muscles that usually fill his body after a night of sex. But still.

Castiel shrugs, annoyed. “How should I know?”

But Dean’s barely listening, already half-way out of the door. He runs to his room, looking for clues that Cas is shitting him, or that maybe, if he’s not, Gabriel indulged him and turned into a really hot, really well-endowed Asian chick. Dean doesn’t really see why else he would have taken the archangel into his bed.

He checks every corner of his room and doesn’t find anything, beside a used condom, which he doesn’t think much of. The only weird thing is the crunchy noise of a piece of candy wrapper that suddenly resonate in the room as he sits on the side of his bed. Curious, he slides a hand under the covers, until he finds the wrapper, and takes it out.

The wrapper’s folded in two, and Dean opens it. Inside, there’s a piece of paper, with something written on it.

“Good Morning, Kiddo,

You probably won’t remember anything so when you’re ready to talk, give me a call.”

There’s no name under the little note, just a crude drawing of a dick with six wings around it. It has to be a joke.

Dean runs to the kitchen again, only to find his brother sitting at the kitchen table, staring at him with tired eyes, and what looks like a bit of resentment. Cas is still standing at the counter, sipping his coffee.

Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sam deadpans, pulling the same face. “I just didn’t know you had such a big set of lungs… I just wished I didn’t have to find out like this.”

“Whatever,” Dean mumbles.

He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed. His stomach feels like it’s burning from the inside, his head is fuzzy, and he wants to know what happened the night before. Now he’s even more curious.

“GABRIEL,” he calls as he steps outside, looking at the ceiling. “GABRIEL GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, YOU SONOVABITCH!”

He stops short as he reaches his room again, taken aback by the sight that greats him. Gabriel is lying on his bed, a rose in his mouth and a santa hat on his head. The angel takes the rose out of his mouth and flicks it around.

“You called?”

“What did you do to Sam and Cas?!”

“Me?” Gabriel takes a faux offended air and straightens up on the bed. “Nothing. Why?”

“Stop your games, Gabriel,” Dean spits, taking a step closer. “They think we… they heard me! But I didn’t…” he trails off.

“Oh,” Gabriel laughs, “but you did. Seriously, you don’t remember?”

“There’s nothing to remember.”

Sighing, Gabriel stands up. He’s so close, now. Too close. But Dean can’t take a step back. He’s kind of frozen where he’s standing. Not scared, no. But… there’s something. A weird, prickling feeling in the back of his skull.

“Listen, Freckles,” Gabriel says, tilting his head on the side, “I get it. You were drunk, you don’t remember. Let me show you what happened.” He smiles. “Then maybe we can make some memories that won’t escape you.”

Dean takes a breath through his nose. Gabriel smells like… fuck. He smells like Christmas. Christmas in Lawrence when his mom spent the whole day cooking, like the Christmas tree his dad brought from God knows where. Like the old Christmas decorations they took out from the attic every year. Like fresh fallen snow.

Gabriel keeps staring, holding Dean’s gaze, waiting. “What do you say?”

Swallowing, Dean tries to pretend he’s not uncomfortable. He smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What, you’re gonna show me what was and what could be, show me the errors of my ways and give me a change of heart?”

Gabriel smirks. “Pretty much,” he answers. “You’re game?”

“I…” Dean hesitates. Gabriel’s always been screwing with them. But he also died for them. Whatever happened, he’s here, now. Maybe he changed. What the hell. “Fine,” he lets out. “Lead the way, Charles Dickens.”

There’s a shift in the air, and Gabriel’s smirk widens. He raises his hand. Snaps his finger.

“I can’t believe you forgot the rum!!”

It’s Dean’s voice. But it’s not coming from him. They’re in the library. Dean turns around, only to see himself storming inside the library, followed by Sam. He remembers this. It was the day before, just after Sam came back from grocery shopping. He’s seeing his past self. His head starts spinning for a second.

“I thought there was some left,” Sam answers his past Self.

“You okay there?”

Gabriel. Yes, they’re in the past. God! Dean nods, watching as he… as Past-Dean stomps around, looking inside the liquor cabinet of the library.

“I know it’s a bit disorienting at first,” Gabriel goes on. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“Well, there’s not,” Past-Dean tells Past-Sam, throwing his hands in the air.

Past-Cas chooses this moment to wander in, a Christmas garland in hand, looking at it thoughtfully like it just insulted his mother. Or Father. Whatever.

“Cas, Sam forgot the rum!”

But Cas doesn’t answer, just stares with that defeated look on his face. Past-Sam gives Past-Dean a quick look and approaches Past-Cas slowly, brows furrowed in worry.

“Something wrong, Cas?”

“It’s nothing,” Past-Cas answers. “It’s… Christmas is a very special time. It makes me think of the Brothers I lost.”

Past-Dean hums and comes closer, too, patting Past-Cas on the shoulder. “I feel you, man. But that’s why they invented eggnog, right? So we can all party and forget about the sad stuff.”

“This year it’s different…” Past-Cas says again. Past-Dean gives him an interrogating look. “Gabriel,” Castiel sighs. “I saw him when Metatron captured me.”

Dean shifts on his feet, impatient. “Do we have to watch this? I know what happened, I wasn’t drunk then.”

Gabriel just raises an eyebrow, pouting, and snaps his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck! Oh Fuck!”

Dean turns around. They’re in his room. There’s just the little lamp above his bed casting a small light above it. Past-Dean is lying on his back, on the bed. Completely naked. Gabriel is riding his dick, sweat trickling down his back, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck, Gabriel, Holy shit!”

“Okay, I get it, take us back,” Dean urges, turning his back on the scene.

He feels the heat coming to his cheeks as his past-Self keeps screaming. Christ, is that really how he sounds like?

“My ass looks mighty fine from this angle,” Gabriel says as an answer.

“Fuck, Gabriel,” Dean and his past-Self exclaim at the same time. Dean’s face is on fire. “Take us back. Please!”

“Fine,” Gabriel says, mildly annoyed. “We’ll come back, anyway.”

There’s a snap and they’re back in the library.

“It’s gonna work, you’ll see.”

Dean looks around again, and sees his past-Self, Past-Cas and Past-Sam kneeling in front of a summoning circle that Past-Dean is drawing with chalk.

“I highly doubt it,” Past-Castiel answers.

Dean knows that part. He stops listening. Instead, he turns to Gabriel. “Why are you showing me this? I know what happened.”

“I need to build up your anticipation,” the angel answers.

Dean snorts. “Right.”

“What? You’d sleep with me, right now?” Dean’s about to yell a heartfelt ‘no’, but Gabriel doesn’t give him time. “Just kidding, Sweet Cheeks. But you need to see this right here to understand that what happened wasn’t all on me, alright?”

Dean huffs, and looks at his past-Self, past-Cas and past-Sam. The circle is complete. Past-Dean’s about to finish the ritual.

“And if you want an Encore when we’re done,” Gabriel adds. Almost a whisper. “Well…”

Dean side-eyes him, annoyed, but doesn’t answer. Truth is, he missed the bastard. He missed his humor. The pet names are horrible, but he can deal with that.

The summoning circle lights up, and past-Gabriel appears inside. Dean remembers this moment. For a second, the angel’s eyes glow blue, and he looks dangerous. Then he smiles, and he looks above past-Dean’s shoulder. He sees Dean and Gabriel standing there. He stares at them, an eyebrow quirking, quizzical. Gabriel, the one in the present, raises his chin and smiles. Past-Gabriel shrugs, and his eyes fall on the three others in front of them.

“What took you so long?”

“You’re alive,” past-Dean marvels.

This part is a little fuzzy. He wasn’t drunk, then. He wonders what happened. A spell? Grace? Did Gabriel drugged him or something?

“No,” Gabriel answers his thoughts.

He snaps his fingers again, and the library fades, only to reappear. Past-Cas, past-Gabriel and past-Dean are sitting at the table, waiting for something.

“Found it!!”

Sam appears, a big smile on his face, and an old bottle wrapped in kraft in his hand. Past-Gabriel seems dubious. “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

“Come on,” past-Dean coos. “Scared you won’t be able to handle it?”

“Oh, I’ll handle it,” past-Gabriel answers. “Cas will, too. But you two… I’m not so sure. Do you know how old this bottle is? You don’t even know what’s inside.”

“It says ‘rum’ on the label,” Sam says.

“You’ll see, Sam makes the best eggnog,” past-Dean says, proudly.

He gets up, and goes to fetch them glasses.

“You’ll end up drunk and you’ll do something you’re going to regret,” past-Gabriel answers. “And then you’re going to blame it on me.”

Past-Dean laughs. “I won’t. Besides, one bottle isn’t going to kill us. That’s all we’ve got.”

“Actually there’s a crate full of these,” Sam intervenes.

Past-Gabriel eyes past-Cas, pouting.

Past-Cas shrugs, a big smile on his face. Dean remembers he wore it all night long. Having a brother by his side that he thought long dead and that actually didn’t want to kill him improved his mood greatly. Dean can understand that.

“So now you see I warned you,” Gabriel says again, “we can move on.”

Another snap, and they’re in Dean’s room. Sam and Cas aren’t here anymore. Dean looks mighty drunk already, lounging on his bed, facing the angel, but thankfully he and past-Gabriel are fully clothed.

“…and man,” past-Dean’s saying, “that pierced tongue of hers, oh my God!” 

Past-Gabriel laughs as Dean drinks from the half-empty glass in his hand.

“It was amazing,” past-Dean slurs.

Past-Gabriel shakes his head, almost in disbelief, and sighs. “You need to stop drinking.”

“‘m not drunk.”

“Yeah, you are,” past-Gabriel says, lying down to mimic past-Dean, head propped up on one of his hand. “And you’re talking about sex. Soon you’re going to hit on me.”

Past-Dean laughs, a full-throated laugh, throwing his head back. Shaking his head, he snorts, and takes another sip of his drink, before his eyes find past-Gabriel’s again. “How do you know I haven’t been hitting on you, already?”

“Dean.”

“What?” Past-Dean gets close, drink tilting dangerously. “Don’t tell me you ‘ouldn’t like that. I saw how you looked at me. All those… those times we crossed path.”

“You saw and yet you never acted on it,” past-Gabriel breathes. “Why is that? Wait, don’t answer.” Past-Dean closes his mouth, giggling. “You never acted on it because when you’re sober you think you liking dicks is a dirty secret you need to keep hidden,” past-Gabriel goes on. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning, not remembering anything, and freaking out on me.”

Past-Dean doesn’t lose his smile. Instead, he shuffles closer, mouth grazing past-Gabriel’s lips. “I won’t freak out.”

“Don’t play with me, Sunshine,” past-Gabriel says, eyeing Dean’s mouth. “It’s been a while since I last got laid.”

“I mean it,” past-Dean answers.

“I can’t watch this…” Dean says.

They’re kissing. They kissed. And Dean initiated. Fuck. He turns around, trying to hide from the sight, but the noise of sheer ecstasy his past-self is making is hard to ignore. Gabriel takes a step closer, and puts his hands on his shoulder.

“Oh course you can, you lived it.”

He turns Dean again, gently. Just nudges him, really, and Dean finally watches again as his past-Self and past-Gabriel kiss on his bed, empty glass of pure rum forgotten between them. Dean thinks he remembers this. Remembers at least the feeling of Gabriel’s lips on his own.

Then past-Dean’s hands are sliding under Gabriel’s jacket, under his button-up.

“Fuck, you’re wearing too many layers,” he breathes against the angel’s mouth.

Past-Gabriel chuckles, pulls away. He takes the empty glass and puts it away on the shelf above Dean’s bed, and takes off his jacket, opening two buttons of his shirt. Then he settles on Dean’s pillows, gaze inviting. Past-Dean crawls toward him, and kisses him again, licking at his mouth. He slides down, until he’s kissing past-Gabriel’s neck.

Past-Gabriel looks up, staring at present-Dean with a smirk on his face, and he moans.

Suddenly, they both disappear. Dean is left standing in front of his empty bed, blinking, with the start of a hard-on.

“Hey!”

“I thought you didn’t want to watch,” Gabriel says, smug.

He walks past Dean and lets himself fall on the bed.

“Fine,” Dean admits. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So… I just…” he sighs. “It’s dumb. How do I know you didn’t make everything up, huh?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I made everything up. That’s why you’re sporting a nice little boner, right now.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Dean says, crossing his arms across his chest.

They stare at each other. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, but the look of amusement is gone from his face and his mouth is pinched in a thin-line. Finally, he straightens up.

“I apologize,” he says. “I thought you’d want to remember, at least… you said some very intense things last night but… it was probably the alcohol talking.”

He raises his hand, ready to snap his fingers.

“Wait,” Dean blurts. He doesn’t know why. But he feels bad. Guilty, somehow.  “I, uh… you don’t have to… you don’t have to go. I just…” he takes a breath. Gabriel blinks, patient. “I’m just really hungover, man, I… can we just talk about it afte– what are you doing?”

Gabriel stood up, and is now standing really close to Dean, two fingers raises. Dean’s room is not that big, Gabriel didn’t have to move much to reach him. The angel’s fingers graze his forehead and suddenly the headache, the feeling of fuzziness are gone. Dean can think clearly, finally.

“Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Freckles,” Gabriel breathes against his mouth.

And fuck. Yeah. Okay.

“Yeah. I mean…”

“Shut up and kiss me, Winchester.”

“Okay.”

The kiss is sweet, tender. Gabriel is the one who kisses Dean first, because Dean’s frozen in place. He’s not drunk. Of all the time he had sex with guys, it’s the only time he’s not drunk. It’s surreal. But Gabriel’s lips are soft, and warm. Inviting.

Gabriel pulls him toward the bed, makes him sit, all while kissing him. Dean’s heart is pounding in his chest, almost painfully. His dick, though, is ready and at attention. His heart tells him to go slow, but his prick is pulling him forward. He doesn’t know which one to listen to.

He finally goes with his dick.

Pushing at Gabriel’s chest, he guides the angel up the bed, until he’s lying completely flat over him, crotches touching. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest, doesn’t make a lame joke. He just hums in approval, and his hands find Dean’s ass, holding tight.

Dean keeps his eyes closed. He can’t face the fact that it’s Gabriel under him. Gabriel. A guy. An Archangel. Well, the fact that he’s a guy is clear from the hardness Dean can feel under his hips. And Gabriel’s whole body is warm. Warmer than a regular human being. Dean can’t wait to be buried to the hilt inside of him. Feel his heat around him. Pound into him until Dean comes so hard he faints.

Gabriel chuckles. “You’re going to make me come in my pants if you keep thinking things like this,” he breathes.

“Shut up,” Dean groans.

He’s losing it. It’s too much and too little at the same and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s been too long…

“Let me…” Gabriel whispers.

He turns them around, gentle, until he’s straddling Dean’s hips. And then he starts stripping. One button at a time.

Dean lets out a nervous laugh. “Aren’t you going to snap your clothes away?”

Gabriel smirks. “Where would be the fun in that?”

He bends down, teeth grazing Dean’s lips as he removes his button-up. As he does so, he rolls his hips, sending a little spark of pleasure up Dean’s spine, just enough to build the desire, but not satisfy it.

Too much clothes. There’s too many layers for Dean. With a grunt, he blindly reaches for the zipper of Gabriel’s pants, pushing them down impatiently. Gabriel huffs and helps him. When he’s done he pulls away. He tugs at Dean’s t-shirt, until Dean complies, straightening up to remove his shirt and t-shirt. Before he knows it, Dean’s naked, with an equally naked archangel wriggling above him, they dick sliding together, hot and wet, in a delicious rhythm.

“Fuck me,” Dean breathes, surprising Gabriel and himself.

The angel raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, Merry Christmas to me!”

Chuckling, Dean avoids his eyes, and slides a hand under his pillow, getting out a bottle of lube from under it. He pushes it into Gabriel’s hands, pretending he’s not blushing.

“Shuddup and get to work.”

Gabriel does. And Dean starts to remember. He remembers how Gabriel took his time undressing Dean, bit by bit, kissing and licking and biting every inch of his body before he did anything else. How Dean begged to be touched, to be allowed to touch, to finally plunge into that tight heat. It took hours. It was wonderful. Intense. Slow. A real experience.

As Gabriel pushes a third finger inside of him, he knows he want to feel it again. To do this, over, and over, and over again, until the end of time. To have Gabriel’s hot mouth on him forever. Just like now. The angel’s tongue roams around his stomach, lower and lower, as he opens Dean up with his fingers, close to his shaft but never touching it, until Dean feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

“Fuck, Gabriel!”

“Getting to it,” Gabriel answers, opening his mouth and swallowing Dean like it’s no big deal.

“Holy fuu—“

Gabriel keeps going until Dean’s about to come just from this. When he stops, Dean opens his eyes – and when did he close them?! – ready to protest, but Gabriel’s already all up in his face, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Ready, Freckles?”

“I’ve been ready for the last fifteen minutes,” Dean grunts, stealing a kiss. “Now get in me!”

“Have you been a good boy this year, Dean?” Gabriel asked, playful. He drops a little kiss at the corner of Dean’s jaw, next to his ear.

“Gabriel, for fuck’s sa—“

Gabriel cuts him with a kiss before finally guiding his dick to Dean’s entrance. He doesn’t push, just waits for a second, and pulls away again.

“Santa’s coming!”

“I’ll punch you. I swear to God.”

Gabriel winks, pouting, and pushes his hips forward.

The feeling of Gabriel’s hot girth sliding inside him inch by inch is overwhelming. When the angel bottoms out, it’s like someone lit a freaking firework inside of him. An intake of breath, and it’s gone. He wants more.

“Christ!”

“Good Fella, it’s a shame he had to die so early,” Gabriel answers, casual as he starts pumping his hips. “You’d have liked him, I’m sure.”

Dean wants to answer, to tell him to shut his mouth, but he can’t utter a word. Everything’s too good, too hot. “Fuck…” he breathes. “Please stop talking.”

The angel huffs a laugh, but he’s starting to pant, eyelids growing heavy under the pleasure. He keeps at it, staring at Dean like Dean’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever since. And Dean can’t stand it. It makes him uncomfortable, so he pulls at Gabriel’s neck with one hand, the other going down to hold on to Gabriel’s ass, and he kisses him with all he’s got.

Gabriel showers him with kisses, on his nose, his eyelids, the corner of his lips, his jaw, his neck. He slams his hips against Dean’s ass, in contrast with the movements of his hands, caressing Dean’s skin gently. They’re touching everywhere. Gabriel is everywhere. Dean can’t process everything. All he can do is feel, and moan, and wait for the ball of pleasure building inside his lower belly to finally explode.

It was different, the night before. He didn’t even know what he was doing. He was confused. Drunk. This time he’s overwhelmed, but he stores every little detail in his mind. The way Gabriel’s breathing hitches when Dean squeezes his butt, how his hair fall in front of his face in a way it doesn’t usually, covering his eyes, making him look younger, wilder somehow. Dean stares, and keeps everything inside, lets it warm his heart.

He remembers thinking the night before that he had wanted this, with Gabriel, for a while; that he couldn’t believe he never tried anything. It’s as worth it now as it was the night before. Even more so, because now he knows he can have this. He can stop holding himself back. Gabriel is here, and he’s alive. He almost missed this.

He wraps a leg around Gabriel’s waist, and the angel goes crazy.

“Dean…” Gabriel mewls. “Shit, Dean, yes!”

One little tilt of hips, and he’s hitting Dean’s prostate with every move. When he grabs Dean’s dick, Dean loses his shit too. He doesn’t know what happens between this moment and the moment he feels his orgasm hit, powerful and all-consuming. Maybe only a second passed. Maybe it was a minute, an hour. It doesn’t matter anymore as pleasure floods his body, coursing through his veins, making the tip of his fingers tingle pleasantly. His whole body freezes, locking tight. His inner muscles spasm around Gabriel’s length, and the angel comes, too, adding a new level of pleasure to the whole thing.

It feels like an eternity before he comes back to planet earth, pleasure receding to a little prickle of electric warmth in his belly.

Gabriel searches for his mouth, eyes closed, so Dean guides him, hands on the angel’s face. The kiss is slow, peaceful. Dean sighs in Gabriel’s mouth, and the angel pulls away.

“And a very happy Christmas to you,” the angel says.

There’s a spark of happiness in his eyes, so Dean can’t find it in himself to be mad at him. Instead, he huffs. “Are you going to cheapen the moment like this every time?”

“If you want us to try again, and again, and again, then, yes. Why not?”

Dean laughs. “I’ll have to get used to it, then.”

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

When they get out of Dean’s room an hour later, after round two and round two and a half (Dean’s not a young man anymore), Cas and Sam are waiting for them in the library. Cas looks more alive, now. Sam is on his laptop, working again, probably.

Gabriel takes a sit next to Castiel, stealing his cup of coffee. Cas raises an eyebrow at him. Even Sam stops typing when Dean sits, too.

“So, you’re staying?” Cas asks, hopeful, addressing his brother.

Gabriel shrugs, giving Dean a look. “I guess I am.”

Sam huffs a little laugh, staring at Dean knowingly. Dean ignores him. Instead, he smiles at the two angels.