#unicorn scribbles

“It’s good to see you all in such a good mood,” Cas said with a small smile. “It means we’re gonna get through this ordeal. All of us. And it makes me happy.”

His statement made Sam and Dean look at each other and burst out laughing all over again.

“Cas. Buddy,” Dean said, throwing an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Have you met us? The heavier the shitstorm the funnier it gets. We’ve spent the entire apocalypse laughing our asses off, remember?”

“And yet, we survived,” Cas said, unperturbed. “So, I stand by my words.”

Dean shook his head, still chuckling, but his eyes were soft and fond. Gabriel sent Sam a mental eyeroll, making him snort, but Dean and Cas were too busy staring into each other’s eyes to notice. Sam cleared his throat.

“So. Burning Gabriel's body. Dean, you on board?”

“If you prefer your boyfriend extra crispy, Sammy, then why the hell not? You know me. I don’t judge. We can wrap him up in bandages and take him out on Halloween to scare the crap outta some local kids. Could be fun.”

“Gabriel's body isn’t human, Dean. It cannot be damaged by fire – including holy fire – and it will not burn. So, technically, it wouldn’t be crispy at all.”

There was a pause as Dean turned to stare at Sam. “You two,” he said, jabbing a finger into Sam's chest, “are idiots. Should have lead with that. Save me from panicking over having to deal with this two-people-one-body thing indefinitely once Gabriel's vessel is gone.”

“Aww, but it’s no fun this way, Dean-o!”

“Zip it, shortstack. I’m the one who’s gonna save your ass here, remember?”

“And our hero swoops in to save the day by setting the prince’s ass on fire. A classy move. I gotta say, I like your style.”

Dean bowed, exaggerated and theatrical. “At your service.”

“Can we please stop talking and just get on with it already?” Sam said, finally managing to push Gabriel away from the controls. “You two can bicker all you want later, when Gabriel is safely back in his own body. You’ve missed this, I get it. I’ve missed it too. But what I miss more is being able to hold my stupid boyfriend by his stupid hand, and I’d really like to do it today, so. Cas? Talk Dean through it? Gabe and I are gonna get those sigils done.”

Cas nodded, and Sam turned on his heel, heading to the garage.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Gabriel said through their mental connection. “Got carried away.”

“Don’t be. I just… I guess some part of me is gonna keep worrying till you’re fully back, so let’s just focus on that, okay?”

“I’m already here, Samshine. Not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, well. Still gonna need to hold your stupid hand. Just to make sure.”

“I can work with that.”

“Okay, we’re here. What do we need?”

“Let me? It’ll be faster this way.”

Sam moved aside, and Gabriel took control of his body, setting to work on the sigils.

Half an hour later they were in the back seat of the Impala, and Cas was driving them away from the bunker. They debated angel travel, but decided against it, just to be on the safe side. Gabriel gave Cas directions to his nearest safehouse, a little over three hours’ drive away, and they headed there: a pocket universe was their best bet against the effects of the spell.

“You still need rest, Sam,” Gabriel said, gently taking control of his body again. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

…

Sam woke up to sunlight streaming through the tall windows and a warm weight pressed against his chest. He blinked, not recognizing the room he was in, feeling a bit dizzy. Then, in a beat, in a breath, it all came back to him, and he froze, unable to move, to think-

There was a soft snore coming from somewhere close. The weight on top of him shifted, and he willed himself to look down, slowly, the litany of not a dream, not a dream, not a dream ringing through his otherwise empty head.

He raised a hand, slowly; hadn’t even realized it was trembling until he saw it brushing a strand of golden-brown hair off Gabriel's face. His cheek was warm and soft and he mumbled something in his sleep, and he was there and he was alive and he was real.

Sam wanted to speak, to say something – but the words got stuck in his throat and tears blurred his vision, and all he could do was hold on to Gabriel, to his solid weight against his chest, praying to he wasn’t sure who for it to not be a dream.

Gabriel must have felt it – the storm of emotions raging inside him – and pressed closer still, tilting his head up and finally opening his eyes.

Gabriel's hand immediately flew up to cradle Sam's cheek, to wipe the tears off his face, his eyes filling with concern.

“Sammy?” he said, voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong, Sammy? What is it?”

Sam still couldn’t speak, couldn’t really do anything other than hold on to Gabriel for dear life.

“I’m sorry about putting you out like that, but you were still weak, and you were worried, and I didn’t want you to worry, I mean I could do the worrying for us both, so I thought it’d be better if you woke up and I was already here, you know, and look,” – Gabriel tugged on Sam's hand, showing him their entwined fingers – “you’re holding my hand now, see? No reason to worry anymore, en el od paracahe*, it worked, I’m here, I’m back.”

Gabriel's other hand was still cradling Sam's face, and Sam tried to take deep breaths, to calm down his too-rapidly beating heart, but it looked like it wasn’t working – and then Sam felt something, a weird but at the same time familiar pull in his chest, and a sense of calm washed over him, filling him with light, and love, and Gabriel.

Gabriel was looking at him, smiling softly, eyes glowing gold, and Sam smiled, too.

“I still want a wedding, you know,” Sam said, the lump in his throat gone and his breathing free and steady now. “A witch hunt gone wrong isn’t exactly the ideal setting, don’t you think?”

“Guess you’re right about that. There wasn’t even time for ‘and now you may kiss the bride’. Groom. Whatever.” Gabriel held up a finger, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I call dibs on the dress!”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that, pulling him closer by their entwined hands, kissing him – finally, finally! – for the first time after all those years apart; a kiss that was long overdue.

They spent an eternity like that, wrapped up in each other, and the sun still shone as bright when they pulled apart several minutes later.

“Sorry I couldn’t get back to you earlier,” Gabriel said, suddenly serious. “I was there, but… ghost stuff just didn’t seem to work for me. Guess I’m no Swayze.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said, pulling him close. “You’re here now. Besides, Swayze isn’t really my type.”

“Ooh, so you’ve got a type? Do tell!”

Sam huffed and kissed Gabriel again, and again, and again.

“This,” Gabriel managed between the kisses, pointing at Sam's lips, “is the best answer to my dumb question. Could you please repeat?”

And Sam did.

 …

Whenever Sam spends endless hours sitting by the window in a motel room up to his ears in research, Gabriel makes sure that he gets distracted by something funny or weird happening outside, like a bird landing on the windowsill or a puppy chasing its tail or some random guy tripping over his own feet and then fully flopping onto the ground, laughing and staring into the sky instead of awkwardly scurrying away - and every time Sam smiles at the sight before him, and reaches out a hand without looking, and feels Gabriel's fingers slip into his, and turns to bury his face in Gabriel's chest while Gabriel's hands comb through his hair and Gabriel's lips press to the top of his head, telling him he needed a break about an hour ago

They cuddle on the motel bed that is too small for the two of them, but, somehow, they manage. Gabriel massages the tension out of Sam's shoulders and kisses the tip of his nose as Sam slowly falls asleep, safe and relaxed and happy

Outside, it begins to rain

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone named Tuesday. Are you sure you’ve got the right Sam Winchester?”

“You are currently located at a power plant on the outskirts of Lebanon, Kansas, is that correct? The building is listed as abandoned, the location subducted from all the development plans for the city, county and state, decently warded – although I could refer you to an affiliate company that deals in warding in case you wish to update your protection against metaphysical detection by the level 10 and up creation/destruction entities.”

“Creation/destruction entities,” Sam repeats, dumbstruck. “Levels 10 and up.”

“Major deities,” Molly supplies helpfully. “Those responsible for creation or destruction of some of the inhabited worlds. It looks like you are in agreement with your local ones, but you know what they say – better safe than face yet another apocalypse.”

“Apocalypse,” Sam says. “Right. Who are you, really, and how do you know all of this about me?”

“April Fools, Inc. is a multiverse-wide company that specializes in pranks and practical jokes, from simple yet classic ones like the disappearing whoopee cushion or time-adjusted superglue to elaborate pranking strategies tailored to our clients’ personal preferences. We can make your wildest pranking dreams come true – unless they imply permanent demise of the recipient, of course. No joke is off limits if its intention is a good laugh!”

“Good to know, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Our company strives to bring the perfect pranking experience to our clients. We perform basic background checks to make sure we can provide the best options. All information is strictly confidential, of course, and can be disclosed solely to the client.”

Molly starts listing the options that come with the Deluxe Package, but Sam barely listens. He isn’t sure what to think of the whole thing – he doesn’t want to be sure. He tries and fails shutting down the hope suddenly blooming inside him. It tugs at his heart – almost physical, almost painful – and whispers in his ear, fiery and fierce and strong, as if it hadn’t dwindled a little over a year ago. Pranks, hope says, Tuesdays. Do you still think it’s a coincidence?

Sam closes his eyes, phone still in hand, and takes a deep breath.

“Excuse me,” he says, not bothering to wait for a pause in Molly’s sales pitch. “Does this Mr. Wednesday have anything to do with your company?”

Like, maybe, running it, he thinks.

“Mr. Tuesday,” Molly corrects him, “is a client. A very good client. I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to share Mr. Tuesday’s personal details with anyone but him. Company rules.”

She still sounds professional, but there’s a hint of apology in there, and Sam has a feeling that she wants to help. Company rules. Right.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, let’s get through the options. You were saying?”

Half an hour later he’s exhausted his not-so-long list of friends, choosing the basic and most innocent pranks – to make them smile rather than anything else – but whatever this Deluxe Package is, it seems to include enough options to prank the whole planet, Heaven and Hell included. He considers pranking Crowley and Rowena – simply for the sake of getting to the bottom of the Deluxe Package – when Molly informs him that they could set them up for pranking each other, and then it hits him.

“Wait,” he says slowly, “hold on. Are you saying that I can pick anyone to play a prank on my behalf?”

“Yes, of course, it’s part of the special requests subsection of the agreement. Do you have anyone particular in mind?” She sounds a tiny bit hopeful and encouraging, and Sam knows he’s onto something.

“Can I request Mr. Tuesday to play one of the pranks for me?” It takes everything he’s got to make that sentence sound casual.

“It’s possible, yes. Although I’m afraid Mr. Tuesday’s circumstances are somewhat… complicated at the moment. It would take a lot of effort and resources on our part to meet your request. Are you absolutely certain that he is the one you wish to include in your pranking experience?”

“Yes,” Sam says, “Yes, I’m certain.”

“Your Deluxe Package should cover it, but, unfortunately, it would mean that the number of pranks available to you will be reduced considerably.”

“How many do I have?”

“Just one, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. Okay.” Sam pauses. His legs are about to give out, trembling, and he sags down onto the floor. His voice is calm and even when he talks again. “Here’s my final order. I’d like Mr. Tuesday to play a prank of his choosing, within the available range, on – on me.”

“On you? You’d like Mr. Tuesday to play a prank on you?”

“Yes.”

“One Deluxe Package gifted by Mr. Tuesday to Mr. Sam Winchester, including and limited to one Gold Standard Prank played by Mr. Tuesday on Mr. Sam Winchester, to be delivered not later than April 1, 2017, is that correct, Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes,” Sam says, glancing at the clock. A little less than four hours till midnight. He can manage the wait.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Winchester, we hope you enjoy your Deluxe Package pranking experience and look forward to working with you again! Thank you for choosing April Fools, Inc.!”

“Thank you,” Sam says. “Thank you, Molly.”

The call disconnects and he lets his hand slide to the floor next to him, the phone a dead weight in his palm. He stares at it, still uncertain, unsure whether he should laugh or cry or get drunk because there’s still a chance this entire thing was just a figment of his imagination. Or a cruel prank. He pushes off the floor and gets up, heading to the kitchen for coffee. It’s Friday night and Dean’s out, which means he won’t be back any time soon. He might as well sort through a couple of MoL document boxes to make himself useful and to pretend like he’s not counting seconds till the moment the last day of March will give way to the first day of April.

He tries his best not to expect anything.

Not to wait.

Ten seconds after midnight.

There’s no grand entry. No fireworks of glitter and candy. No obnoxiously loud music blaring from every corner of the bunker.

Ten seconds after midnight Gabriel walks into Sam's room and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck.

Sam's still sitting at his desk, sifting through the papers, and for a moment he’s frozen, unable to move. Gabriel's arms tighten around him, and Sam's hand finds Gabriel's all on its own and something inside him breaks into a thousand pieces and mends together again.

He moves, then; turns around in his chair, pulling Gabriel into his lap, wrapping his arms around him, breathing him in.

Gabriel is silent still – not a single word, not even his usual quip, and to Sam this silence speaks a whole lot more than words. He holds him close, closer, presses a soft kiss to Gabriel's hair and feels him smile against his chest.

“You should have gone for Mr. World instead,” Sam says.

“Nah. It would’ve been too obvious. Besides, a whole world of legal issues to follow. Pun intended.”

“It wouldn’t be you if it wasn’t intended.”

“You know me so well, Sammykins. A man after my own heart.”

Sam pulls him into a kiss. Everything still feels like a dream, so he has to make sure. There’s golden fire dancing in Gabriel's pupils and his lips are soft and smiling and Sam can’t help his own smile and even though it’s impossible to kiss and smile at the same time, they manage, somehow.

“Long story. Tell you later?” Gabriel says before Sam can open his mouth to ask the question. “Getting back here is one of the best tricks I pulled, but we still need to do one tiny thing to make sure I don’t play the reverse Cinderella who appears after midnight and disappears with dawn.”

“Company rules,” Sam says.

“Still the smartest guy in these parts, huh?”

“I’m not gonna pretend I understand even half of it, so you’re gonna have to tell your story. Later. But now I believe you owe me a prank?”

“About that,” Gabriel says and falls silent, eyes closed, forehead resting against Sam's.

Sam takes his hand, squeezes. “Whatever it takes.”

“You and I are gonna have to get hitched,” Gabriel says. “If you still want me around, that is.”

“How is that even a question,” Sam says, dropping a kiss on Gabriel's temple. “Idiot.”

Gabriel looks up at him with a worried frown. “It is. I don’t mean just married, I mean – uh – bonded?”

“How is that even a question,” Sam says, kissing him on the nose. “Idiot.”

Gabriel beams, then, and – there he is, finally, laughing and kissing and talking at the same time, and it should be impossible, yet here they are.

“This is my best work,” Gabriel says, tugging at Sam's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm, “everyone can go home now, I’m officially the pranking king, one and true and only, cause you see, Sammy, the only way for me to stick around is to be in the process of pranking you, indefinitely, and it’s – it’s the double flip, see? The prank is that it’s not a prank, so it’s all serious and a legit question – be my bonded? Yes?”

“Yes,” Sam says, “how is that even a question, seriously-”

Gabriel lunges forward, cutting Sam off mid-sentence, and their kiss is desperate and frantic and Sam finally, finally knows that this is real.

Several minutes later they’re interrupted by a series of bangs and Dean’s outraged cries. Sam raises an eyebrow. Gabriel shrugs.

“That,” he says, “was my bonus prank. I’m much valued by the Company, y’know. So, I thought, why not stick to the classics and fill up Dean’s precious baby with glitter.”

“Before you say anything,” Sam says as soon as Dean appears in his doorway, “this was my welcome to the family present for Gabriel.”

“We’re getting married,” Gabriel adds.

They both watch in fascination as half a dozen different emotions flicker across Dean’s face. He crosses the room in a couple of quick strides, jaw set, and wraps them both in a bone-crushing, glittery hug.

“I hate you both,” Dean says. “Congratulations.”

It’s notalways like that, of course. Sometimes it’s Poe who is waiting in the crowd forFinn to return from a mission. Sometimes they land seconds apart. Sometimes theyland together. But they still hug after they climb out of Poe’s X-wing, and Poestill grins at him and ruffles his hair and Finn holds him tight, and there’sthe same unspoken hey, I missed youbetween them.

Finn doesn’tthink about it too much. He doesn’t even know there’s something to think about.His life with the Resistance is so different from what it has been before thathe feels like he’s floating on air most of the time.

Except whenPoe is late from his mission.

It can be aday or two and when Poe lands he is battered and bruised and covered in grime,but he is still smiling when Finn runs up to him to help him to the med bay. Itcan be just a couple of hours and it’s nothing out of the ordinary, and Finn knowsit – anyone can be a few hours late if the circumstances change.

This time,it’s been three weeks. Three weeks of radio silence and one pointless rescuemission that discovered Poe never even landed on the little moon that was his destination.

It’s beenthree weeks and Finn is sick with worry. He dreams of running. Running throughthe maze of corridors, back on the Starkiller Base, knowing that Poe is there,somewhere, but unable to find him or the way out. Running towards Poe’s X-wingto find a complete stranger in his place. Running through the dark and quiet,his own ragged breath and uneven heartbeat the only sounds in his ears. He wakesup in the dead of the night, drenched in sweat, muffling a scream.

Jessika findshim like this, one day. She hugs him and holds him, stroking his back, sayingthat it must have been harder on him than anyone else and that everyoneunderstands and he should be brave and strong for Poe. He tells her that itmust be just as hard for her because Poe is her friend too, and watches hereyes widen and her mouth form a surprised oh.

She shakesher head and there are tears in her eyes as she huffs out a quiet laugh,looking up to the ceiling with Poe Dameron,ever the gentleman and the shake of her fist and you better come back, you idiot, you hear me. He is waiting for you.

They stayup till it’s almost dawn and they talk. Well, Jessika talks, mostly. Finn listens.It’s a lot to take in, but four in the morning is the time when everythingfeels slightly off, reality worn a little too thin, and it’s much easier toaccept it. He knows she is right. About them, about everything. But Poe isstill missing and it’s too much, and Finnfeels like he cannot breathe, but Jessika is still there and she is stilltalking, trying her best to distract him, so he wipes off his tears and triesto smile and asks her to tell him more about Poe. And listens.

He wakes upto the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows and a breakfast tray onthe table. Must have been Jessika, he thinks, and the memories of their late-nightconversation rush in, settling somewhere in the pit of his stomach, heavy. The sightof food makes him sick, so he reaches for a glass of water instead.

Poe isstill missing. He tries not to think, tries to pull himself together, but itdoesn’t really work. The glass slips from his fingers and rolls under the bedand he cannot hold his tears in any longer. He cries for the first time sincehe was a little boy.

He takes along shower and heads to the gym, hoping that the combat training bots candistract him. He doesn’t walk through the landing strip and takes the long wayaround instead, avoiding the crowd. He is halfway through his warm-up routinewhen he hears footsteps and Jessika runs in, hugging him tight, laughing. She istalking way too fast and at first he doesn’t understand what she is saying, butthen some of her words finally register and he feels the ground tilt and slipaway.

They caughtPoe’s signal.

Finn spendsthe next two and a half hours switching between happy and desperate, pacingaround his room until Jessika forces him to stop. They found him. They’re on their way. What if they’re late. What ifsomething goes wrong. They found him. They found him.

There’s arush of air and sound as the X-wings land. The crowd around him erupts incheers as Poe takes his helmet off and throws it high in the air. His eyes lockonto Finn’s and he grins, and Finn feels like he’s in a dream, floating on air.They weave their way through people and droids and cargoes being unloaded,running towards each other, colliding somewhere in between, and Finn watches hisown hands reach out and pull Poe into a kiss. It’s awkward and clumsy at first,but then Poe tilts his head and his lips are warm and real and his hands hold on to Finn’s waist, pulling him closerstill, and this is it, Finn thinks, finally.

Finally.

“Took youlong enough,” Poe says, grinning, his breath hot against Finn’s lips.

“Jessikasays you’re an idiot.” Finn pulls away for a moment, looks at Poe’s smug face. “Iagree.”

The cheeringaround them is a lot louder now, but Finn doesn’t care. He feels the groundbeneath his feet and Poe’s flight jacket under his fingers, and it’s all solidand real and there. Poe looks at him,somewhat sheepish now, biting his lip.

“Well, atleast I’m… your idiot?”

“Yeah,” Finnsays. “Yeah, you are.”