Miss Kitty Fantastico

Oh my titles. So eloquent.  ^^;

Have another randomly stopped piece of the Sabriel Destiel faery fic.  Because I was too lazy to write more today than this.  The first part is…HERE  (even though that’s not really the first part since it starts in the middle of it) *flees*

Which, of course, was the moment Dean and Castiel burst in and things went to hell all over again.  Everything seemed to happen at once.  Gabriel turned, unnervingly quickly, preternaturally quickly, impossible to miss. Dean’s easy going grin seemed caught for a moment, as the elder Winchester locked gazes with Gabriel, taking in the glowing red eyes. The familiar smile frozen in cold shock reminded Sam, who could only look on speechless in surprise, of a broken doll, frightening and alien. Then the grin was gone amid Dean swearing and throwing himself at Gabriel, all violence and promise of pain, leaving Castiel standing lost in the bedroom doorway.

Sam’s surprise only increased when he saw why Gabriel had been calling Cas his brother, though it shouldn’t have been a revelation.  Of course, it was so obvious now.  It wasn’t by blood that they were bound.  In a moment, Sam had taken in Castiel’s true form, glamour stripped away now, probably due to Gabriel’s severe distraction. Because, the younger Winchester surmised, it had to be Gabriel who’d been holding Castiel’s glamour in place if it couldn’t be seen even while wearing fairy oil.

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Um yes, just an excerpt from a faery SPN AU I finally started writing.  This part is just Sabriel-ish. But there will be destiel too.  Yep. Dunno what else to say.  ^^;  Notes at end. Totally unedited because I’m a lazy jerk, yay!

“Hey, come on, kiddo. I thought we were friends,”  Gabriel circled Sam at a distance, posture convincingly relaxed, hands open in a gesture of good will, but his eyes were bright and sharp and the hunter wasn’t fooled.

“And I thought you were human,” Sam replied, trying to keep the thick strain of betrayal from his voice.  He moved back, keeping the space between them large enough for parrying.  The long iron knife was heavy and cold in his hand, “I guess we’re both disappointed.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed and his golden eyes were being slowly swallowed by crimson.  He glanced down at the knife before taking a careful step forward, hands still held out beseechingly.  In reaction, Sam brought the blade up, a more obvious threat.

“I haven’t changed, Sammy,” voice softer now, Gabriel let his head dip, tawny strands of hair falling in his face and partially obscuring his sanguine gaze, “I’m still the same person, you just know me a little better now.”

Sam’s laugh was a harsh bark in the quiet room.  His knees had hit the edge of his desk, hard and final behind him.  The bedroom was on the smaller side and both window and door were out of reach beyond Gabriel’s misleadingly petite form. For all intents and purposes, Sam was trapped.  

“You’re not a “person” at all,” he sneered, hand gripping the hilt of the knife tighter, his own fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palm, “Though you certainly played it well.  Gotta give you props on that.  You even fooled Dean, and that’s tough.  You’re still looking human…mostly. So you must actually be able to change form, not just glamour yourself. ‘Cause I should be able to see through glamour, what with the oil and the amulets.  Some power you got there.  What’s that make you? “

“Harsh words, from a mongrel,” Gabriel was smiling again, though the taller boy could see it was strained, forced, “You look pretty damn human yourself, but I know better. You’re tainted. Mixed blood. A monster.”

Sam lunged forward with an enraged howl, quick enough for his bare feet to burn on the carpeted floor, blade slashing…only to meet thin air as Gabriel danced easily out of the way.  It threw the hunter off balance and in the moment it took him to right himself, the other man had moved in and hit, tossing Sam as easily as if he were a small child.

The desk banged loudly against the wall as his body hit it, but this was student housing and it had born worse. It held.  The chair didn’t fare as well, breaking beneath the impact and Sam found himself laying painfully amid splintered wood.  He moaned once in pain, though he moved quickly to sit up, cursing when he saw his knife trapped beneath Gabriel’s foot, where the other crouched watching him, smirking.

“As I was saying,” he commented lightly, as though speaking of the weather, “It seems kinda hypocritical of you to be judging me for my background, when it’s one you share, however distantly.”

Licking blood from a cut on his lip, Sam glared mutinously.

“You threw me like it was nothing,” he tried not to wince in pain, “That kind of strength, you must be a member of one of the courts.  So which is it?  Seelie or Unseelie?  Light or dark fae?”

Gabriel’s smile faded, slowly, and for some reason it made Sam think of the color washing out of a painting, of youth fading with age.

“Would it surprise you to know there’s really quite little difference between them?” the faery asked, capricious visage for once sober.  He paused, chuckled, before answering his own question, “No, I suppose of all people, it wouldn’t surprise you.”

He rose from his crouch, hands pushing off his knees, leaving him standing over Sam, looking down.  Watching the tangle of long limbs and floppy hair that was, or had been, his friend, Gabriel seemed to consider before continuing.

“To answer your question, technically speaking, I’m of the Seelie.  The shining throng,” he snorted, seemingly finding some amusement in this description, “Son of Raghnall, first king of the Light fae.”  

He laughed again, mirthlessly, at the shock in Sam’s eyes before shaking his head.

“I should say, I WAS of the Seelie.  I’m in exile. Self banishment, actually, for an age or two now.”  

“But, you,” the hunter was sputtering, trying to gather his now scattered thoughts at this revelation, “You’re royalty! You’re a prince!”

“I suppose that makes you want to kill me even more now, huh?” Gabriel observed, stepping forward and kneeling again so he was fully within Sam’s space, watching with a blank expression as the other shoved himself backward, alarm maybe even fear evident in his expression, as far as he could amid the wreckage of the chair. 

“Well, in case you were wondering,” the blonde fae went on, “I left because I grew weary of life at court.  Especially when I was considered an abomination by many, since my existence is thanks to dear old dad having himself a piece of pooka pie.”

At the flash of confusion in Sam’s look, Gabriel continued.

“My mother was a pooka, one of the more…wild fae. She was not of either court and happier for it, I’m sure.  That’s where the-” here he gestured at his burning red eyes, “comes from.”    

Sam, of course, knew very well what a pooka was, but wisely kept his mouth shut for the time being, letting the smaller man continue on.

“Anyway,” Gabriel shrugged, “Got tired of the petty fighting and needless bloodshed of Seelie life and decided it was time to take a walk and wash my hands of it.  Been in hiding ever since.”

The ensuing quiet was near deafening.  The two gazed at each other, measuring.  Sam tried to wrap his mind around what Gabriel was telling him, a hundred thoughts flitting through his mind at once.  He could use this, he knew.  Gabriel was a lost prince, surely that was something either court would gladly bargain for. Or he could kill Gabe, leave his body at the sithen, one of the fairy mounds, as a warning of what the Winchester brothers were capable of. 

But just as quickly, his mind shied away from such gruesome thoughts.  This was his friend. Or had been his friend, had been someone he hoped would be…something more even.  But that had all been a lie.  Faeries lied, even while telling the truth. They charmed and they destroyed. They delighted in tormenting humans, found joy in suffering. It’s what they did. And Gabriel was one of them. He was the enemy.  Wasn’t he?

Sam shook his head, long hair swaying, trying to clear his mind.  Gabriel just watched, red eyes foreign and unreadable.  Then he reached down, towards the knife, and Sam flinched, about to heave himself forward, guided by desperation.

But Gabriel grabbed hold of the blade, instead of the hilt, and held it out to the taller boy, expression earnest and almost pleading.  The pure emotion written over the other’s features was a near physical shock to Sam and his chest clenched in empathy.  The years, the weariness, aching loneliness, and underneath that the raw want and need.  It was painful to behold.

“We’re on the same side, Sammy,” It was partially the nickname, one only his father and Dean usually used, and partially the growing smell of burning flesh and a hint of smoke rising from where Gabriel gripped the iron, that stayed the hunter and decided him.  Instead of attacking, he took the offered blade after only a slight hesitation, and Gabriel gave it up easily, though he bit his lip and Sam winced in empathy at the layer of skin that came away with it.

Looking down at the weapon he now held, Sam considered his options, hazel eyes flickering between the iron and Gabriel’s wounded palm, flesh raw and bubbling. With an exasperated huff, he shoved the knife in a holster beneath his pant leg before grabbing Gabriel’s wrist.

The other started in surprise and made to tug his hand back before he realized Sam was merely examining the wound, brows furrowed in what looked considerably like concern.

“We should get ice for this, it’s a bad burn,” Gabriel was trying not to melt into those puppy dog eyes and went with sarcasm in defense.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” he snarked, standing and in doing so, dragged the younger Winchester brother up with him, “But it’ll be fine. Heal in no time.  Super powers and all that. Perks of the job.”  He winked and was rewarded with the taller boy rolling his eyes before blushing and looking away.

Which, of course, was the moment Dean and Castiel burst in and things went to hell all over again. 

Notes:   The Winchesters are faery hunters.  From all outside appearances, they seemed like any other. fairly normal and run of the mill, midwestern family. In reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth of the matter.   John Winchester had been moving his two children around the country for years and had finally settled them here, nearly in the middle of nowhere, for one reason: on the edge of this seemingly unremarkable town, there was a fairy sithen, or fairy mound, the underground dwelling of the fae folk. 

Nineteen years previous, when Sam had been just a baby still nursing from their mother, Mary, something had stolen into their suburban house, creeping in like a shadow in the deep hours of the night, red eyes burning like smoldering embers and full of wicked intentions. Mary had screamed once, shattering the peace of the quiet house, and John, closely followed by a dewey eyed Dean, had gotten to Sammy’s bedroom in time to witness the young mother being dragged out the window by something large, sinewy, and vaguely dog-like.

At the time of course, the first assumption wasn’t ‘fairies’.  The police, after first suspecting John of foul play, ended up blaming it on wild dogs

Gabriel and Cas, while seemingly human and befriending Sam and Dean, are actually faeries themselves.  Cue dramaz. 

Gabriel: Seelie royal prince. Half pooka (shapeshifting trickster faerie- he can turn into a black dog, black horse, among other things)

Cas: (not entirely sure yet.  A wild faerie. Perhaps a slyph. Something mostly gentle but unaware of politics and such. )

Anna: A relation of sorts to Gabriel.  A princess of the Seelie and a Beanside (beautiful wailing faerie whose song announces death)

Ruby: Sister to Anna, though one of the unseelie, a Leanan Sidhe (dark faerie who takes human lovers and sucks the life out of them )

Michael: Current king of the Seelie, half brother to Gabriel

Raghnall: (name means powerful judgement and ruler. basically Chuck.) former Seelie king. MIA

Lucifer and Lilith: King and Queen of the Unseelie

Death: King of the Wild Hunt

Raph, Uriel, Alastair, etc: to be decided (any ideas would be welcome :3 )

Fandom(s): Thor, Avengers AU

Pairing: Loki/Thor

Rating: Mature? I guess?

Summary: I want to try to do drabbles based on songs and then have people guess the song it came from. So here’s the first :3 I think the song is pretty obvious for this one. Sorry if it’s kinda crappy. trying to write quickly for a change.

Professor Thor Odinson knows it won’t be long before his resolve finally breaks.  Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he can feel Loki’s gaze on him, a hot prickle on the back of his neck, though he rarely catches his student actually looking at him, only now and then catching the emerald eyes shifting rapidly to the board, his desk, fellow students. But Thor can see the tiny hint of a pleased smile, curling at the edge of those oh so kissable looking lips. 

Lips he tries desperately not to think about, but he can hardly help it, not when Loki so often is bringing attention to them, rolling a pen between them, tip of his tongue just peeking out.  Thor bites his own lip in unthinking response, feeling his trousers growing tight, and he pushes strands of hair out of his eyes, attempts to focus on the history lesson at hand, on his other students.  Anything but thinking how beautiful those lips would look sucking his cock.  And Loki is smirking, eyes twinkling in secret mirth.

One afternoon, with the light shifting towards dusk, Professor Odinson walks swiftly to his jeep, head bowed against the rain that has been falling drearily all day.  He shakes himself out inside the vehicle, glad for the reprieve, and he pulls out of the school parking lot, thinking of home and mug of hot coffee spiked with a hint of peppermint schnapps. That’s when he sees the figure at the nearby bus stop, looking bedraggled and miserable as the rain falls heavily on dark hair and lips made for sucking cock, and Thor feels a coughing fit coming on, his body shivering.   He knows this is it, the point of no return, his willpower has failed him and he pulls over, gravel churning under tires.   

The figure looks up as the passenger door swings open, green jewel eyes bright now with surprise, rain making it almost seem as though he’d been crying, and then he grins, teeth sharp and white, smile full of promise. Loki takes two steps and slips into the seat.  Thor knows nothing now will be the same.

Title: With A Whimper, Chapter Three

Fandom(s): Thor, Avengers, Supernatural

Pairing: Loki/Gabriel

Rating: R…maybe NC17? I don’t know how these things work ^^;

Summary: ”I want to propose a mutually beneficial…arrangement.” Gabriel and Loki make a deal, to save them both from uncertain future.

Warnings: the beginning of sex, yay!  also, my fudging various history, mythology, and canon to attempt and make this oddness work ^^;   there’s a whole bunch of ideas in my head that I’ve not been able to make come through. I should do a headcanon post some day.  But not today.

The archangel meets his own desire with bewilderment. The mechanics of the process he knows well enough, he’s been to earth numerous times, bringer of holy declarations or righteous judgement, and he’s seen how the humans, how his Father’s “children”, delight in rutting like beasts.  Gabriel has even watched them with mild interest, wondering at the ecstasy on their faces that sometimes seemed to be desperation or rage or any number of human emotions the angel had no term for. Even if he’d gotten it into his head to lay with a mortal, as some of his brothers or sisters had, it was a grievous sin and could result in the horror of the nephilim.

Now, his Father is vanished and his Word unheard, brother broke faith with brother, and there is war in Heaven.  With Michael and Lucifer sundered, the Host’s attention divided, there remained none with the authority to truly command Gabriel.  Here, in this cover of mortal flesh made hallowed, there is blood rushing beneath his skin and trillions of nerve endings reacting to every slightest pressure, every tiny shift in the air, the brush of lips or touch of finger nails, translating these things into sensation and reactive emotion.  He never grew tired of the pleasant surprises of wearing a human vessel, but this intimacy is a new level of fleshly realization.  Even this experience, of laying with knowledge of a heathen idol, is made holy.

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Title: With A Whimper, Chapter Two

Fandom(s): Thor, Avengers, Supernatural

Pairing: Loki/Gabriel

Rating: PG still really.  Will eventually be NC17 :D

Summary: ”I want to propose a mutually beneficial…arrangement.” Gabriel and Loki make a deal, to save them both from uncertain future.

Warnings: minor violence, future sex?  also, my fudging various history, mythology, and canon to attempt and make this oddness work ^^;  

Gabriel has had enough.  He is only willing to take so much ridicule from this false god. He releases his vessel, exploding out of it in a burst of brilliant golden light.  It throws Loki from him, a nearby table reduced to tinder, and gives him just enough time before the dark haired being is on him again, the wicked looking blade slicing into Gabriel’s grace before disappearing, wielder reappearing behind.  The archangel realizes the weapon is enchanted in some manner, it burns and freezes when weapons of the mortals are but the nipping of bugs in comparison,  and turns faster than a thought, ready to meet Loki’s advances.

In the next few minutes, the two find themselves surprisingly equally matched, neither able to gain the upper hand for long.  The little cabin suffers for it and when it’s finished, they find themselves in the rubble of their destruction.  Gabriel had had the foresight to extend the smallest of his power to lay the unconscious woman in a field of wild flowers many yards distant from the clash of their combat, she’ll wake later and find herself alone, full of longing and blurry ungraspable memories.   

The battle is ended, with Gabriel sheathed once more in his human flesh and sitting astride Loki’s hips, a gleaming angelic sword offering a deadly kiss at Loki’s pale stretch of throat. The pagan in turn hovers the tip of his own jeweled blade at the grace pulsing beneath the angel’s confiscated ribs. The assurance of mutual destruction stays them. 

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Title: With A Whimper

Fandom(s): Thor, Avengers, Supernatural

Pairing: Loki/Gabriel

Rating: Thus far…PG?  Will eventually be NC17 :D

Summary: ”I want to propose a mutually beneficial…arrangement.” Gabriel and Loki make a deal, to save them both from uncertain future.

Warnings: minor violence, future sex?  possible spoilers but I don’t think there are yet

The archangel, Gabriel, had appeared in glorious holy ecstasy, six golden wings unfurled and shining behind him, heavenly light spilling from his eyes, divinity nearly overwhelming his recently acquired human vessel.

He has found the one he seeks, in a small town in the midst of Sweden.  The religion of the pagan gods still holds heavy influence here and the angel had been watching this area of Earth during the uproarious festival days for years, waiting for his chance. Now it had come, during one of the spring festivals when the people of the nearby villages were celebrating the blossoming of new life and giving thanks to the gods for continued health.  There was feasting and coupling and the angel wasn’t surprised that the one he searched for would end up here, in a handsome cabin, abed with a mortal woman, her husband no doubt drinking his fill in the village with the other revelers. 

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“Our stars are waning, a bright new sun rises, burning the splendor of the Aesir and the Vanir, leaving us cinders in it’s shadow,” the cunning green eyes betray nothing of the Trickster god’s feelings on the matter, his expression nearly serene. 

Gabriel has not yet had great experience with liars, though his holy righteousness has already begun to fail him, but he is an archangel and not without significant power of his own, and he can read the truth beneath the guise, can feel the despair in the minute tremor of Loki’s hands on his flesh.

The messenger of God says nothing but leans into the forbidden touch, breath stuttering through his borrowed body.  He has his own concerns and the pagan’s vexations are little to him.

The tongue Loki flicks across his own lips, taunting and promising at once, is not the silver of tales but red and lush and no matter the lies it’s spilled, Gabriel wants to taste it with his own.

There, have a snippet of the Loki/Gabriel story I’m attempting to write ^^;  It’s supposed to be meshing Avengers-verse, SPN-verse, and Nordic Myth verse. I may or may not continue. *bites nails*