[ficlet] Heavenly Hands (Sam/Gabriel, PG)

[tiptoe39]

Title: Heavenly Hands
Author: tiptoe39
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Summary: Birthday fic for the lovely applefreak21. This is very unfinished. It doesn't end, it just sort of tapers off. It's fluff. Enjoy.


It took real concentration to even get the key to turn in the lock. The brothers Winchester were returning to a motel room after a fight with a hellish monster, but this one was a little different than most. It had been the size and shape of a piglet, and had hopped around with the speed of a grasshopper on drugs. One minute it was one place, the next minute another, and once they'd finally been able to catch it, they'd rolled under enough benches and vaulted over enough fences that they weren't sporting bruises so much as aching muscles and twisted tendons, the sorts of parts of the body that Sam and Dean paid very little attention in the normal course of things. If it wasn't broken or torn it usually didn't matter. But this time it fucking killed.

"Never moving again," groaned Sam as they made it through the doors.

"Damn that little thing," was Dean's contribution.

Then they both bothered looking into the room they'd just entered.

Scented oils were lined up on a table. Two long, nondescript queen beds had been replaced with a comfortable-looking single, fresh sheets inviting and white. Soft music, a pan flute and a koto perhaps, filtered in from parts unknown. And walking through the room, smiling gently at them, were a handful of well-built, attractive men.

"Dean." Sam nudged his brother, nodding upward at the sign on the wall.

Heavenly Hands Massage Parlor

Dean grumbled. "Don't look at me. He's your boyfriend."

Sam would have had something to say back to that, eventually, if he'd had time to think about it. But he didn't, because Gorgeous Masseuse #2 was walking over to them with a clipboard. "Which one of you is Sam Winchester?" he asked innocently.

"As though you don't know," Dean muttered, trying to grimace, but he was starting to really eye that comfortable-looking massage bed. Sam raised his hand.

"Ah." The man's smile was relaxing in and of itself. Calm, measured. Patient. "Please, this way."

Sam obeyed, walking toward an oaken door behind a large purple cactus. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Dean shedding his shirt and heading toward the bed in that room, complaining the whole while that there were no women masseuses. Sam snickered, and then his neck complained about being craned. He allowed himself to be ushered through the door.

Gabriel had cucumbers over his eyes and he appeared to be reading a magazine anyway. "You should hear about Jessica Simpson's weight loss secrets," he said gaily as Sam entered. "I'll read them to you while you have your massage, how's that?"

Sam's eyebrows twitched. "What is this?"

"What's it look like?" Gabriel put down the magazine and rose from his seat on a beige, soft-looking couch. The cucumber slices stuck miraculously to his eyes. "It's a special treat! I could hear your muscles complaining from Zimbabwe, so I came back to get you all taken care of." He plucked one slice from his eye and tossed it elsewhere, giving him the appearance of a rich old fop with a monocle. "I'm just that kind of a guy."

Sam was being guided onto a similar massage bed -- not guided so much as pushed, actually. That was the thing about muscular male masseuses. He stumbled onto it and his head fell prone into a circular indentation to allow him to breathe free. "Gabriel!" he declared, staring at the floor helplessly as big hands fell onto him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, stop complaining. You're tense, you need a massage. Just take the kindness like a man for once in your life, would you? You're worse than your brother sometimes."

"That's not-- uhhh." Sam lost control of his voice as his masseuse hit a kink that needed particular attention. "That's not fair."

"Oh, this is more than fair." Gabriel's voice was close, and Sam could feel the presence of his body, small and hot, near Sam's own. It set his hair on end, making him bristle like a cat sensing a predator, and he fought the temptation to tense up further. It'd only hurt, with that much bulk bearing down on him the way it was.

"S'not... what I mean," Sam said, forcing the words through a groan of relief as something in his upper back snapped and broke down. "Nnngh.. you going to give me a massage... how come... ah... it's not you giving it?"

A moment of silence. Then Gabriel snapped his fingers and the pressure was gone from his back. The music stopped short. The room was utterly still.

"Get off me! Jesus! Frickin'-- where are the ladies? What kind of massage parlor is this?"

Sam burst out laughing. Without the rustle of hands and the hum of the music, next door's activities were painfully audible through the thin walls. He rolled over onto his side, peeking up at Gabriel. "We might need some more soundproofing," he said with a soft grin. "You know. To keep his sounds out."

Gabriel was still open-mouthed and staring. The remaining slice of cucumber had long since perished underfoot. He raised his hand and snapped again. The noises disappeared.

Sam lifted a hand to reach out to him.

It was almost tentative, the way Gabriel laid one knee up on the table, then the other, and came to straddle Sam's body. The look on his face was still one of shock. It both tickled Sam and filled him with affectionate pity. For the archangel who had spent eternities creating whatever he desired, the most foreign concept was still to be desired in return.

Sam pulled him down and kissed him gently. "I want my massage, damn it," he murmured into Gabriel's mouth, then maneuvered beneath him to lay his head back down in the cushion. "Come on, get rubbing."

"Your wish, as they say, is my command." But there was nothing of the showman in Gabriel's voice. Instead, he sounded almost humble. Gabriel, humble. Who'd have thought? Sam chuckled at the notion as he felt warm hands slide over his back, gauging where the muscles needed attention. Gabriel's hands were as genius and talented as the rest of him, and they never failed to reduce Sam to groans... of one sort or another.

But just as the anticipation was starting to shorten his fuse, he felt not the squeezing heat of hands but the soft press of lips. He shivered. Gabriel was laying careful kisses down his spine, one kiss for each vertebra, careful, soft and affectionate. Goosebumps erupted all over Sam's body and he fought the urge to shiver. He made a small, involuntary noise. And then Gabriel retraced his steps with a quick lick of tongue up Sam's spine, and Sam did shiver, crying out again, this time louder. Gabriel smiled against the back of his neck.

There were his hands now, finally, kneading Sam's shoulders and breaking own the knots that dotted his lower back. "Like a sack of freaking marbles," Gabriel commented as he dug in right at the resistance point and pounded each nexus of tension to blissful relaxation. Gabriel was better at this than an army of professional masseuses. A few minutes under his care and Sam was lightheaded, his body glowing, his mind clearer for the lack of pain but also humming with the fact of Gabriel's presence and proximity. Once Gabriel was touching him, Sam only ever wanted more.

"This is nice," he murmured, voice muffled by the angle, but still clear enough to hear. "This was nice of you, Gabe. Thanks." His use of the nickname was not thoughtless: He knew Gabriel had a peculiar reaction to it and he sort of liked eliciting it. Gabriel had once explained tha it made him feel almost like a human being when Sam said it. Which you wouldn't think would be such a great thing, but then again, maybe it was only natural that Gabriel would want to feel that way. He'd lived among them so long, pretending to be this and that random human, but never really being one. Never really fitting in.

It was another reason Sam's love was such a miracle in his eyes.

Gabriel tucked his head down against Sam's shoulder blade, kissing it fervently, and Sam gave a sigh. Sometimes Gabriel was needier than the most helpless child. Gabriel! The man who could create his own realities, invade people's heads! It was empowering and addictive. Sam had always wanted to have more control; Gabriel, less. They were perfectly complementary in that way.

"Gabe," he whispered, his voice soft. "Thanks. Thank you."

He shifted his shoulders and back beneath Gabriel, indicating he'd like to turn over, and Gabriel obliged him, sliding into his arms as soon as Sam was face up again. Sam caressed his back, began to knead the angel's shoulders in return. "You make me stupid," Gabriel whispered fiercely, and Sam could hear the half-disgusted expression on his face. So proud.

"I try," Sam said, sitting up, pulling Gabriel up with him. "You're more interesting that way." At this he got a hurt look, daggers of eyes glaring up at him. Sam kissed the haughtily offended pout away. "Relax," he suggested, biting back a chuckle. "Want me to give you a massage?"

"Hell, no. You'll break me." Gabriel was still playing outraged.

"I'll break you."

"I'm a delicate little flower!"

"Of course you are." Sam reached down and squeezed his ass, just a quick pinch, and Gabriel flew a foot into the air, surprise rounding his eyes and lips. Sam laughed. "So sensitive, too."

"Exactly. You'll bruise me."

"Gabriel." Sam tucked his hand under Gabriel's chin. "Shut up."