Fic - Sometimes They Stray

[oneiriad]

I wanted to write crack. I wrote this. I'm odd that way.

Title: Sometimes They Stray
Author: oneiriad 
Disclaimer. Neither Supernatural nor Marvel's Thor belongs to me
A/N: order_of_chaos requested Gabriel from SPN and Loki from Thor.

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 kind of 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’d tagged along on a couple of hunts, he’d 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 away in the other bed in the cheap motel room, and he'd been the one to tell the archangel again and 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 a 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 ever 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-sos, 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 partner. Didn't want Dean to drag out every bad decision he'd ever made, or so he’d 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 – there might even be an ex-wives club out there or something. 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.

Gabriel's amplified voice starts singing about flying on the wings of love and something brittle and bitter inside of Sam just wants to laugh.

"I never intended to trespass against you," and Loki's sitting down next to him in the stall, placing an honest-to-god tankard in front of him. He didn't even know this place had tankards.

"Yeah, well, it's not like..." Not like they ever promised each other anything. Because they didn't. Not like they were an item, as such, not like Dean and Cas, daring anyone to comment. Not like Loki could have known, could he? Not like anybody was telling anybody anything.

"Nevertheless, I feel as though I ought to make amends," and he nudges the tankard towards him, and the beer is dark and golden, foamy, tempting. So he drinks it, trying to drown out Gabriel's voice and his own thoughts and the whole damn world while he’s at it.

After that, everything turns kind of golden. And hazy. Blurred.

They're on a bed somewhere. All three of them. And they're naked.

Gabriel's beneath him, a needy, begging, trembling mess, caught, impaled and at the mercy of his hands, his lips, his tongue. Right where he belongs.

"I suspect it will require the both of us to keep him from..." and he thinks the voice is talking to him, thinks he really ought to be paying attention, except then there's a cock sliding against his, sliding in against his, and his train of thought just sort of curls up and whimpers at the feeling.

Somewhere someone is keening. It's possible it's him.

Angry, shouting voices are dragging him rudely back to the waking world, and he's thoroughly, deliciously sore and he has a headache that makes him want to shoot whoever is shouting like that. Because honestly, it's way too early, and he just wants to go back to sleep, right here halfway on top of Gabriel, his head nestled against his shoulder. He's been missing this. He's not about to let some angry voices take it away from him.

Except the voices won't go away. And he's pretty sure one of them is Loki's.

Dammit.

He looks up at Gabriel, who is looking at something behind him, and when he turns halfway onto his back he sees a tall, blond man in outlandish clothes glaring at them all, looking all righteously indignant as he's standing right by the foot of the bed, opening his mouth to no doubt shout some more.

Sam kicks out, feeling his foot connect, mumbling "go away" even as he's turning back to Gabriel, dragging the covers over his head to shut out the world. Judging by Gabriel's laughter the big guy's expression must be priceless, but he doesn't care - he snakes an arm around Loki's waist, dragging him closer, and wills himself back to sleep. Wills them all to go back to sleep.

The rest of the world can damn well wait its turn.