ALRIGHT

PLAYINTHEWAVES ASKED FOR MASSAGE!SABRIEL

that i can do~

"You bring out your wings once, and then, whoops, witches!

Sam chuckles to himself from the motel bathroom as Gabriel rants and raves to nobody in particular from the motel bed, lying on his stomach from sheer back pain. He has a little bit of sympathy in his heart for the archangel — after all, he and Dean and Cas probably would have been slaughtered by those witches if it hadn’t been for Gabriel.

Apparently, though, as they were being smote, one of them had enough time to mutter some old Enochian incantation and slap Gabriel pretty hard between the shoulder blades before disintegrating.

The wings had looked really cool, spread out in the sunlight, bigger than Sam could have ever fathomed, until Gabriel started shouting and cursing in pain, his wings collapsing behind him and hiding themselves back inside his vessel.

That had been a particularly disturbing visual image, so Sam tries not to think about it.

"It’s like they threw a rabid possum into my back!" Gabriel snaps, and Sam goes back to snickering. "How do you even do that?! I just got them cleaned, y’know, and now they’re probably all matted and disgusting —”

"Can I help you, in that case?" Sam asks, poking his head out of the bathroom to smile bemusedly at Gabriel. The archangel looks up from where he’s buried his head in the bedspread and scowls.

"It’s your fault in the first place, Sasquatch." he remarks, but Sam can tell he doesn’t really mean it. There’s a difference between a slightly aggravated archangel and an archangel who’s seriously pissed off, Sam’s learned.

If Gabriel was seriously pissed off, Sam would have bulldozed through all nine circles of hell by now.

Sam shrugs, shutting the bathroom door behind him. “I dunno, Gabriel, I was just offering.” he says, unable to keep the amusement from seeping into his voice. “Seems like you can’t do an awful lot on your own.”

Gabriel tries to glare at him, gnashes his teeth, but there’s a sickening crack that makes even Sam wince and Gabriel’s face goes white, and he lowers his head into the bedspread again to moan in agony. Sam frowns a bit, his concern starting to bloom a bit.

"I mean," Sam starts slowly, taking a step forward, and he smiles thinly. "You want… I dunno, an ice pack or something? Hot water bottle, anything?"

Gabriel lifts his head and pouts, glaring a hole into the opposite wall of the room (except then he scowls and an actual crack forms in the plaster and Sam reminds himself to never get on Gabriel’s bad side.) “A massage wouldn’t hurt.” he mumbles to no one in particular, and he barks a bit in surprise when Sam straddles his back.

"Hey, hey!" he snaps. "Be careful back there, I’m kind of in excruciating pain!"

Sam doesn’t listen to him, just cracks his knuckles, staring at the angels shoulder blades. “Where is it? Spine, shoulders, what?”

Gabriel grunts, lets his head rest on the bed again and glares sideways at Sam. “It’s not my back, kiddo, she hit my wings.” He sighs then, sounding a tad bit humiliated. “They probably look horrible, I’ll be honest with you.”

"Let me see them." Sam says simply. "Massaging those can’t be much different than massaging someone’s back, I guess."

Gabriel’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, no, no. I told you, they’re gross.” He bites his lip. “Angels are sensitive of their wings, you can’t just touch them, Sammy, they’re… they’re special.”

Sam smiles warmly down at him then, leans forward to kiss his temple, and Gabriel grunts a bit in protest, mostly weak and reluctant. “And what, I’m not special?”

"Sam —"

"Don’t hurt my feelings, Gabriel." Sam says teasingly into Gabriel’s hair. "I’ve got an older brother with a short temper and a hard left hook."

Gabriel chuckles despite himself, wiggling underneath Sam. “What’s it like, not being able to fighting with anything but your bones?” he mumbles, and he swats Sam away suddenly. “Sit back unless you want a mouthful of feathers, you moron.”

Sam does as he’s told, and he hears Gabriel mumble a quick, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” before the muscles around his shoulders clench.

He grunts in pain a bit, but Sam’s distracted by the sudden weaving spools of light erupting from his back, unfolding and spreading out like water or like light, deep shades of purple and stark whites, until Gabriel’s wings are spread out around him. They’re elegant, beautifulterrifying things — stark black with intangible hues of navy, like ink and water in front of the hunter, and Sam’s breath gets caught in his throat.

Gabriel groans in front of him. “Fuck, they look horrible. Just slap a giant bruise on my back, why don’t you?”

They’re different than how they were. Before, they were much larger, lighter, almost like they didn’t exist. Ethereal, in some senses, but now they’re much more tangible, like if he touched them —

Gabriel makes a strangled noise when Sam tentatively lays a hand against the feathers. Sam darts his hand back and frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t —”

"No, it’s alright." Gabriel breathes, face white again. "Just — just warn me next time, alright?"

"Does it really hurt that bad?" Sam asks, letting his concern seep into his voice. He’s surprised when Gabriel shakes his head, takes a deep breath.

He blinks hard. “You just… it’s different, y’know, wings, they feel different cause they’re not part of the vessel, and they’re actually attached to our Grace and all that. You know, touching them, and that, it’s just a little bit —”

Sam silences his babbling by running his hand through a few of his feathers again, a feeling of… well, almost like solid smoke running over his hand, and Gabriel shudders violently under him, and a strangled moan rips from his throat. Sam licks his lips.

"It…" Sam starts, but changes his course of thought. He smiles — it’s not a smirk, but it’s something almost drunk with wickedness, like a deep evil about to mark the holiest of holy things. "You like that?"

"Jesus, Sammy, don’t —" Gabriel bites his lip when Sam starts idly twirling one of the feathers between his fingertips, twisting it, tugging at the quill, and he whines. "You want to help me out or what?"

Sam blinks slowly, and he takes his hand off, looks at the wings cautiously, suddenly calculating his movements. “Yeah. Where does it hurt?” he asks, and Gabriel’s about to say everywhere when Sam puts either of his hands on the shoulder joints connecting the wings to Gabriel’s back, and the archangel sighs.

"I guess that’s a good place to start." he mutters, and Sam slowly spreads his hands downward, over the massive arches of bone and through the downy again, spreads out the feathers, straightens them, runs his hand up the small strip of Gabriel’s back that stands out between both appendages before starting over. 

Gabriel’s let his eyes slide shut, relishing in the feeling of Sam’s hands in his wings, and he whimpers occasionally, sometimes moans appreciatively, and Sam leans forward, kissing his temple. “Feeling any better yet?” he mutters close to the archangel’s ear.

Gabriel cracks one eye open. “If I said yes, would you stop?” Sam suddenly twists the patch of feathers he’s been straightening out, and Gabriel keens again before Sam straightens them out.

The hunter smirks. “Do I look like I have anywhere to be?” he whispers low into the angel’s ear, and Gabriel chuckles, a soft exhalation of breath that doesn’t have much force behind him.

"You’re making a pretty big commitment, kiddo." he mutters, looking up at Sam with pupils engulfing his golden eyes. "Archangels get territorial, I’ll have you know."

Sam chuckles and kisses his cheek. “Seems like you don’t know the Winchesters well enough yet.” he replies. “I think I can handle it.” 

Gabriel’s smile is wicked, and Sam muses to himself that he sometimes can’t believe this man is an archangel of the Lord.

"Then by all means," Gabriel hisses, and it sends a shiver straight down Sam’s spine, "keep going.”

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    Always reblog Puppet’s little ficlet things. best sabriel.
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