Prompts?

[oneiriad]

Still bored - and still in the mood to write cracky crossovers. So.

Give me two fandoms. Give me a character from each fandom. I'll see what I can do*

*unless the fandom or characters are unfamiliar to me, in which case, my apologies.

Comments

part 1/2

[oneiriad.livejournal.com]

Loki is looking at him strangely, the way he's been doing for the last couple of weeks, ever since - Sam downs the last of his third? - fourth? - beer and refuses to finish the thought. Glares at the god. His hands are itching to curl up and - but no. It's not Loki's fault.

He actually likes the god. Extradimensional being. Whatever. Liked him back when they found him in the middle of nowhere, back when they went through the dance of "where am I?" and "what are you?" and Loki just staring at Dean as if he was insane or something in response to the man-eating-question until Gabriel had distracted him by introducing him to chocolate, which they apparently didn't have wherever Loki came from.

He likes Loki. He does. He really does. It's just...

Loki was good company, and after he tagged along on a couple of hunts, he turned out to be capable company too. Very capable. And Gabriel liked him too, so that was good, right?

Only, then the pair of them had gone off somewhere for a couple of weeks or three, and when they came back, they had barely been able to stop giggling long enough to tell where they had been and what they had done - and pretty soon Sam and Dean had been laughing too, and Cas had been wondering what this "Dr. Phil" was and why it was funny to trap "superheroes" in it.

Gabriel hadn't come to his bed that night, and Sam had told himself that he wasn't sorry about that, because Dean had been snoring in the other bed in the motel room, and he'd been the one to tell the archangel again and again that they couldn't, not when Dean was right there and might wake up and see. He had told himself that he was happy that Gabriel had apparently finally listened.

Except he didn't corner him in the dark alley, either. Or snap them off somewhere for a bit of privacy. Or turn them invisible and inaudible in the back seat of the Impala.

Sam had wanted to - but somehow, whenever Gabriel was around, so was Dean. Or Bobby, when they drove to see him about some ghoul research. All he needed was a moment, but...

And then he had opened a door at Bobby's and then rapidly closed it again, trying his best not to think of the sight of ruby red eyes widening at the sight of him. Trying his best not to think of it.

And neither of them had said anything.

He stares at Gabriel where he's standing in line, not-so-patiently awaiting his turn at the karaoke machine. Part of him wishes that he'd told Dean, because even if he'd be having to endure the inevitable I-told-you-so's, his big brother would definitely be acting like a big brother, breaking out the holy oil and threatening to deep-fry the archangel, but he didn't, he hadn't because he didn't want to listen to how he'd expected his brother to react. Didn't want him to question Sam's choice of a partner. Didn't want Dean to drag out every bad decision he'd ever made, or so he told himself at the time.

He wonders if perhaps he knew, even then. After all, how much does he really know about Gabriel? For all he knows, the guy's been the love-'em-and-leave-'em type for millennia. It's not like there's anybody he can ask, unless he tries to track down Kali, and he's not quite that suicidal, thank you very much.