Jumping to Conclusions

Title: Jumping To Conlusions

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Gabriel preslash. Hints of Dean/Cas

Rating: R

Word count: 1043

Spoilers: If you know who Gabriel is, then you're good.

Warnings: None I can think of.

Feedback: Yes please.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to Supernatural.

Beta:

mithrel. Thanks, dear!Summary: Dean makes some assumptions. Then Sam makes some too.

Link to this fic on LJ and on DW and on AO3.

Sam wriggled on his chair for the umpteenth time that night and Dean finally snapped. “What, Sam?! What is going on with you?!”

There was a definite flush to Sam's face all of a sudden. “I just have to move around a bit. Sitting down hurts.”

Dean let the words hang in the air for exactly five seconds before he exploded. “SON OF A BITCH!”

Sam flinched and winced simultaneously. At any other time Dean would have laughed about it, but now...

“Dean, what the hell?!”

“He finally got to you, didn't he?” Dean growled, stomping around the room.

“Who?”

“Gabriel! That's who!” Dean snarled.

Sam looked deeply confused, as he got up slowly. “What does he have to do with anything?!”

But Dean didn't even hear the question. He just kept stomping and ranting to himself. “He's been slobbering over you for weeks and now that he finally got his filthy way with you, he's not even man or angel or whatever the fuck he is enough to actually heal you afterwards! He is the most fucked up son of a bitch and when I find him, I am going to-”

“Dean!” Sam yelled into his face. “Gabriel has nothing to do with this. I fell on those rusty nails last night, remember? Ripped my pants?”

Dean looked like he'd swallowed said rusty nails. “But you weren't hurt, Sammy! You said so yourself!”

Sam groaned and rubbed his face. “What, now I'm supposed to tell you about every little scratch? Yes, I got a few cuts and now they're infected and they twinge. But I'm fine, Dean. It's not like we haven't had worse.”

Finally Dean fell silent and there was a long, heavy pause before he rubbed his neck nervously and mumbled. “Okay... awkward.”

Frowning, Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Now that we're on that subject, Dean, when were you going to tell me about you and Cas?”

“What?” Dean said, his eyebrows flying upwards.

“You. And. Cas-ti-el,” Sam spelled out. “It's not like you've been subtle about it or anything.”

Dean looked absurdly baffled for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning. “I think I see what's going on here.”

“Oh, really? Do tell!” Sam bitched.

“Gabriel,” Dean declared firmly.

“Oh, so now we're back to that!”

“Well who else do we know who loves messing with us?” Dean grumbled.

“So you assuming all kinds of moronic shit is now suddenly due to a supernatural power? Right,” Sam huffed.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and held him steady. “No, I mean, think about it. My brain going from ass-pain to gay sexytimes is one frickin' big leap, Sam.”

“Not if you're having some yourself,” Sam countered.

Dean paled. “That's a low blow, Sammy.”

“Is it?” Sam asked quietly. “Okay, so maybe you and Cas aren't doing the horizontal mambo yet, but you can't tell me you haven't thought about it.”

“I am so not having this conversation with you,” Dean shuddered.

“You started it!” Sam cried.

“Against my better judgment, which is exactly my point!”

Sam blushed and his voice broke when he yelled in Dean's face: “FINE!”

“Whu-what?” Dean gibbered, stepping a few steps farther away from his incensed little brother.

“I said Fine. You go call your angel, I'll go call mine,” Sam proposed, making Dean wince at the emphasis on the last word.”-and then we'll find out what's going on here.”

Dean eyed Sam suspiciously. “What am I supposed to ask Cas, then?”

“Oh, I dunno!” Sam 's voice was thick with sarcasm. “Maybe ask him if he's just as gay for you as you are for him so you can get this out of your fucking system and stop blaming everyone else for your Freudian slips!”

Dean stood for a while just huffing aggressively at Sam, before throwing his arms in the air and leaving the room, windows rattling from the slamming of the door.

“I thought he'd never leave!”

Sam whirled to find Gabriel sitting on the very hard chair that started the whole surreal thing.

“Crap. Dean was right, this was all your doing!”

Gabriel huffed. “Oh, please. If I wanted to jerk Dean's collar, I have much better ideas. Not that watching this train wreck wasn't extremely amusing.” He applauded silently and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine. It wasn't you. Now can I get back to my research?”

Gabriel looked heavenward and vacated the chair. When Sam went to sit on it, though, it suddenly had a cushion on it. A very soft cushion. Sam smiled as he sat down again. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Gabriel said calmly. “See? In spite of what Dean might think, I can be a nice guy.”

“I never doubted that. Despite everything you did. You're an angel,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

Gabriel blinked. “That's... forgiving of you. Considering what I put you through.”

“But you admitted that you were wrong. Repeatedly,” Sam said, typing absently on his keyboard. “Although, doing so in front of Dean might have been a mistake, since he now seems to think you want my body.”

There was a really long pause and Sam finally got uncomfortable enough to ask, “What?”

“Well.... ol' Dean might actually be on to something.” Gabriel replied, not meeting Sam's eyes.

“You're kidding.”

“Considering my choice of occupation, that would usually be a fair assumption. But no. Not right now,” Gabriel smirked.

“Jesus...” Sam groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“Ugh, if I ever do get you into the sack, we're gonna have to have a talk about the expletives.”

Sam leaned back in his chair with his eyes scrunched closed. “This isn't happening. This is not happening.”

“Not unless you want it to,” Gabriel said quietly.

And before Sam could even open his eyes, Gabriel disappeared, leaving Sam to clutch his head and groan repeatedly with mortification for the next long while.

End.