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The first time he sees it, it’s an accident. They’d gotten themselves caught up in a trap, stuck between Lucifer’s black-eyed demons on one side and three of Zachariah’s suit-clad, blank-faced minions on the other. Not a good place to be, not when neither side had any problems working together to take their chosen Winchester and with Cas at the end of his metaphysical rope.
Sam’s back is to Dean’s, but for once the warmth of his big brother’s body doesn’t soothe him. Because they’d both damned in their ways and he knows it. They both know it. And Cas is pressed against them, the third and unexpected side to their motley family, ready to fight and die by their side.
They’ll fight, because they don’t know any other way. Because they’re Team Free Will, goddammit, and that counts for something. But they’ll lose, and Sam figures he’s not the only one who knows it by now.
And for a moment, as a smirking Zachariah strides forward, a black-eyed demon he doesn’t recognize stepping up from the other side, he thinks of mocking smirks and steady hazel eyes, and wishes for the impossible.
And then there’s a snap that carries, impossibly, over the expectant, melodramatic hush that Zachariah so favors, and Sam gets the distinct pleasure of seeing the arrogant angel go a truly lovely pasty shade. He glances over and his lips twitch a little at the shorter man leaning easily against one of the broken pillars that’s all that stands of the old church they’d thought to find shelter in.
“It can’t be!” Zachariah wheezes. His minions actually look surprised, and the demons are hesitating, clearly at a loss but smart enough to realize this doesn’t bode well.
“Sir, it’s just one of those pagans,” one of the lesser angels whispers to Zachariah.
“Shall I smite him for you, sir?” the second offers.
Zachariah glares at them both, sweat beading on his brow. “Fools, don’t you realize who he is!”
They clearly don’t, but they don’t admit as much either. Gabriel shoves off his pillar and swaggers forward, thumbs hooked through his pockets and looking briefly, inhumanly hungry.
“We’ll deal with the pagan, angel,” one of the demons sneers, a knife appearing in his hand which bears a striking resemblance to the one Sam still carries. He tenses, alarm shooting through him at the thought of Gabriel burning from the inside out as so many demons have, and for a second hazel eyes flick to him and warm.
“Aw, Sammy, that’s sweet,” Gabriel winks, and then his face goes hard and cold, much like Cas when the angel’s really pissed. His eyes flash a bright, pure white. For a single, breathless moment the shadow of wings stretch out far beyond him, and a thin band of light crowns his head—is that a halo?—and then Cas is grabbing Sam and Dean both, pulling them to the ground and shoving their faces into his coat with a force the mortals can’t deny. The world flashes white, the brilliant light of angels escaping their vessels. It’s Anna all over again, yet different. Stronger, older—and yet, there’s a compassion in the power that washes through Sam. For a moment it feels as if his soul is cupped and cradled gently by a power that’s so alien he can do nothing but quiver in the face of its might. Then he’s caressed and released, coming back to find himself huddled into a warm body, wheezing desperately.
“Hey, hey,” Gabriel hushes softly, and Sam realizes he’s buried in the archangel’s favored jacket. “You’re okay, kiddo. It’s over, they’re gone.”
He forces himself away, heat filling his cheeks as he realizes what he must’ve looked like. But Dean isn’t giving him shit, probably because he’s only now prying himself from his own angel, and a quick look between the brothers agrees that they’ll never mention this particular chick-flick moment. Ever. He lets his eyes flick back to Gabriel. There’s no sign of that incredible wingspan, but light shimmers over Gabriel’s head, matching the gold of his eyes.
“Um,” Sam manages, fascinated gaze locked on the light, and yes, that is definitely a halo. An actual halo. Granted, he knew about the wings in theory—but the wings can’t be seen, and even the shadows of them are rare and far between. The halo is beautiful, pure and unearthy, the Divine brought into the mundane world. It’s a hint of what truly dwells inside the vessel, and Sam’s very soul shivers in delight at the sight of it.
The halo vanishes as the gold fades from Gabriel’s eyes and Sam swallows hard, his gaze locked on where it was a moment before. Somehow, some way, he’s got to see that halo again.
*****
Gabriel stuck around after he saved their collective asses, and he’s showed no inclination of leaving. Dean grumbles quietly, but half-heartedly once he sees the relief in Castiel’s eyes, the way the younger angel relaxes a little when Gabriel’s around. Sam is delighted, even though he tries not to show it. And even better, Gabriel hangs around him, teasing and flirting. It’s not the half-bewildered dance between Cas and Dean, but that’s fine by Sam.
Flirting turns into touches, light and tentative brushes against his shoulder, down his arm, a ruffle of his admittedly shaggy hair. He offers candy bars in turn, sits in diner booths with his leg pressed against Gabriel’s. It’s slow and cautious, and that’s exactly what Sam needs after the quick and messy disaster that was Ruby.
And if his thoughts turn often to that halo, fingers tingling at the thought of touching it, well, that’s his business.
Eventually, he musters up the courage to ask. It was a long and bitter hunt, and he’s sore in places he didn’t know he had. There’s a sharp, shooting pain that keeps him from turning his head more than a fraction to the right, and he’s got a bad feeling he did serious damage, as in the spinal fracture kind of damage. But even the physical pain pales in the face of how raw he feels, because the demon had a whole little arsenal of blood-based jabs, complete with a bloody hand waved pointedly in Sam’s direction. He couldn’t help the way his gaze followed the splashes of blood—and he hurts even more at the memory of the distrust in Dean’s eyes. The careful blankness of Castiel’s gaze and the pity beneath wasn’t much better, but Dean…God. He’s fought so long, tried so fucking hard and right now he knows it’ll never be enough to win his brother’s trust back again. And he wonders why he’s bothering.
The mattress gives on either side of him, and he gasps as the movement shifts his body. A warm body settles firmly on his thighs, holding him down.
“Easy, kiddo,” Gabriel murmurs, and long fingers stroke up and down his back. He’s naked, he realizes, but he hurts too much inside and out to care right now. This is Gabriel. He’s safe; no harm will be permitted to come to him while Gabriel is here. Gabriel’s hands slip up his spine again, pressing cautiously around the hot, swollen knot of pain. Sam hisses between his teeth, but he doesn’t shift away. He lets deft fingers stroke around the knot, soothing the pain away bit by bit until finally it’s gone and he slumps into the mattress for a moment at the blessed relief. But he needs to see Gabriel’s face, and so he shifts, Gabriel moving aside to let him flip over before he straddles Sam’s hips again, studying him.
“Tell me,” he says softly, and Sam can’t hold back the words or the longing anymore.
“I—can I see your halo?”
Gabriel blinks. Sam flinches, huddling into himself as best he can as shame flares hot and bright. What was he thinking? Halos are rare, unique to archangels alone; it’s as much a part of Gabriel as the wings Sam can’t see or feel. How dare he even ask?
“Hey.” It’s sharp and clear, piercing the bubble of Sam’s self-loathing. “I didn’t say no.” Gabriel’s eyes flare the bright gold Sam loves so much, because it’s the only time he catches a glimpse of Gabriel’s true Self. His breath catches as the halo shimmers to glorious life, and it’s so beautiful he reaches up before he even realizes what he’s doing. He barely catches himself, fingers curled into his palm in shame as he realizes what he nearly did without permission.
He shouldn’t ask, but he has to. God knows his track record at self-control sucks right now.
“Can I—touch you?”
Gabriel blinks, hair nearly as shaggy as Sam’s tumbling forward for a moment, shielding his eyes before he smiles, his fingers threading into Sam’s hair. “Yeah. Go for it.”
His fingers sink into the energy. It crackles around him, tingling down his fingers, radiating through his arms and into the core of his body until he shivers at the sensation, pleasure crackling down his nerves. Gabriel drops his head to give Sam better access, and Sam shivers until Gabriel finally, gently lifts his head. He’s breathing hard, his eyes hot and bright as he stares down at Sam for a long moment, making the mortal very much aware of his hardening cock pressing against the archangel’s belly, the heat and pressure of Gabriel’s cock in turn. The halo vanishes, and Sam opens his mouth to bleat a protest, only to have firm lips cover his, a warm tongue tasting of chocolate and mint sweeping into his mouth.
This is so much better than just the halo, because Gabriel’s touch leaves phantom trails of the same energy and his hands roam everywhere. Sam writhes and gasps under him, swamped by hunger and need for this beautiful being who impossibly wants him. He gives as good as he gets, no stranger to male lovers; he measures Gabriel’s length with agile fingers, explores hard planes of a body that’s just a touch too hot and too solid to be mortal. He flips Gabriel, the archangel permitting the motion, and licks his way down the smooth sheets of muscle to nip and lick the small puckers of Gabriel’s nipples. He works his way down that deceptively compact body until he claims Gabriel’s cock. He hasn’t blown a guy since before Ruby, but it’s not something one forgets, and he revels in the taste of Gabriel’s smooth flesh, the way the archangel makes soft, shattered noises as his hips nudge deeper into Sam’s mouth. He’s technically in control, but he feels broken open and taken, letting Gabriel fuck his mouth harder and deeper until that thick shaft is nudging at the back of his throat. Gabriel comes with a shout that makes the walls quake, spilling down Sam’s throat in long pulses. Sam explodes into the sheets, moaning his pleasure around the softening length still filling his mouth.
****
It’s only the start of his obsession, as he trades demonic blood for angelic halo. Gabriel indulges him, lets him bury his fingers in the manifestation of Gabriel’s Grace as he fucks Sam hard and deep. He lets his halo glimmer into brief life when Sam feels too raw by his brother’s lingering distrust and the atrocities raging around them.
It’s such a part of their relationship that he doesn’t think much of it. Dean knows what’s going on—he has to, the walls are too thin in their favored haunts and Sam’s too loud for him not to know—but he doesn’t say anything. Smart of Dean, really, because Sam’s not the only Winchester fucking an angel of the Lord. So Sam doesn’t even think of what Gabriel’s halo might mean until he and Dean stagger in after a particularly horrific hunt, their angels appearing moments later. It was a bad one, with the lead demon wearing a small blonde child that reminded them both too fucking much of Lilith—and Sam’s a quivering wreck, barely holding himself together. Gabriel takes one look and is there, crowding Sam against the wall, halo shimmering to gentle life in unspoken invitation Sam is only too grateful to accept. Caught up in the relief of Gabriel’s unwavering affection, he nearly misses the shocked, almost horrified look on Castiel’s face. Almost.
But he doesn’t get the chance to ask until much later, when Dean’s buried himself in the shower and Gabriel’s vanished with a quick kiss to grab actual dinner, and it’s just Sam and Cas. He doesn’t even have to bring it up; Cas speaks first, in a hurried rush.
“Sam, Gabriel…his halo…” he falters, and Sam flushes a little.
“Yeah, um, about that…it’s…he lets me, uh, do it sometimes. Touch it, I mean. Uh. You know?”
Cas can still reduce him to a gibbering idiot at times. He’d despair, but Gabriel does the same to Dean, except with a lot more gleeful relish. And…is Castiel blushing? Sam stares at his brother’s unflappable angel, truly taken aback.
“It is…not proper,” Castiel manages, still flushing. “An archangel’s halo is sacred even among angels. Touching it…I do not know if there is a human equivalent, Sam.”
Sam stares at him, knowing his face is crimson even as his mind struggles to absorb the new information. If archangels don’t permit their halos to be touched even by their brethren, what does it mean that Gabriel actively encourages him to touch his?
“Wait, you mean I’ve been groping him?” Sam squeaks, finding his voice in a wash of shocked horror.
“I believe it would be more akin to public intercourse,” Cas offers, and Sam goes even redder. Oh, dear God! Why didn’t Gabriel tell him?
Right on cue, the door opens and Gabriel saunters in, bags of greasy and not-so-greasy food in hand. “Dinner,” he begins, then stops, keen gaze skating over his red-faced lover and brother alike. “Interesting discussion, kiddos?”
“He—I—we—you—” Sam drags in a breath at the arched eyebrow and manages to gather a coherent thought. “Halo sex!” he spits accusingly.
“Oh, for the love of God, Sammy, TMI!” Dean yelps behind him. Sam groans, sincerely wishing he could just vanish. Gabriel blinks, then gives him a downright wicked grin.
“And wonderful halo sex it’s been too,” he agrees. “Wanna do it again?” His fingers are at Sam’s forehead before the youngest Winchester can muster up an answer, and the last thing he hears is the start of what sounds to be one of Dean’s more epic rants. They reappear in a secluded cabin high in the Rockies, one of Sam’s favorites. This is also one of Gabriel’s most secluded dwellings, deep in some of the unexplored terrain that nothing short of an angel can reach anyway, which makes it perfect right now. Sam doesn’t think he wants company for this discussion.
Gabriel’s simply watching him, that warm, open smile playing over his lips as Sam paces and frets. “Halo sex!” he repeats helplessly. “Gabriel, why didn’t you tell me?”
Gabriel tips his head. “Touching my halo…that’s something for mates. What did you think you were? Where did you think this was heading, Sammy?” His smile is indulgent as Sam simply gapes at him, dumbfounded. Okay, so he’s wanted serious right from the start, but he doesn’t do casual sex. That never meant he thought he’d get it.
This is what he’s always wanted and never thought he’d have. Every little petty thing inside of him says he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Gabriel—but he doesn’t care. This is what he wants, and he’s not fool enough to turn it down.
“Mates, huh?” he asks softly. He knows enough of angelic relationships from Cas to know that it’s eternity and beyond; he’ll belong to Gabriel, his soul forever in his mate’s keeping. Even death cannot sunder them. It’s the best thing he’s heard in years. “So does that mean I get halo sex whenever I want?”
Gabriel grins at him, tension vanishing. “Absolutely.”
He’s Gabriel’s, now and forever. He’s probably always been Gabriel’s, even if he didn’t know it until now. And most importantly, this is everything he didn’t dare want.
But the halo sex is a really nice perk.