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23 February 2011 @ 10:43 am
[twitfic compilation] Wipe off that angel face (and go back to high school) 3:4/5  
Title: Wipe off that angel face (and go back to high school)
Volume 3: Friendship Caught Fire (Chapter 4 of 5)
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: R for non-penetrative sexual acts(yes, among minors- gasp.)
Summary: Sam/Gabriel High school AU. WIP. Done through twitfic / twitlonger. Thanks to jabber_moose for an amazing title!!

Volume 1: Bully and the Beast
One | Two | Three

Volume 2: You Gotta Be Honestly Sincere
One | Two | Three | Four

Volume 3: Friendship Caught Fire
One | Two | Three

And the letters pour in like a flood.

Well, not a flood, so much. More like a trickle.

Okay, fine: a drought.

Sam doesn't notice until Thursday. He's been studying for finals all week, and on Monday night he had to go cover one of those insanely boring school board meetings because Castiel was out with the flu. (This wasn't a total loss, though: Gabriel tagged along and afterward they made out in a back hallway of the school where nobody was. Gabriel felt Sam up through his pants, and tugged on his tie, and GOD Sam wants to do that again.)

But when he's got a story written, he heads into the classroom and discovers the empty cardboard box. He stares into it balefully.

"We're going to have to write some ourselves," says Ruby. "Just to get the ball rolling."

Chuck jumps in, shaking his head furiously. "We can't make things up! We're a newspaper!"

"We don't have to make it up," croaks Cas, who is back at school but still sounds like a chain-smoker. "We can use our real problems."

"I don't have problems," Ed declares.

Harry snickers. "Right. You're perfect."

"Close enough."

"Hey, why don't you Ask Leo about that ghost you swear is haunting your attic?"

"Shut up, Harry!"

"Dear Frightened, try burning the bones. Love, Leo. P.S. I hear salt is like acid to ghosts. Burny acid."

"Shut UP, Harry!"

Sam is trying to hold back his laughter.

"Cas is right. I want one letter to Leo from each of you. Type them up, print them out. We'll shuffle them so Sam doesn't know whose is whose." Chuck leans forward and glares with that editorly face he sometimes puts on. "Get to work!"

When they're done, Sam has a half-dozen questions to choose from. He picks three and gets to work.


Dear Leo,

I get so frustrated with my boyfriend sometimes. He's nice and sweet and all, but sometimes I get the feeling he doesn't listen to a word I say. I give him lots of great ideas and he ignores every one! How do I get him to listen?

Second Banana

Dear Banana,
If they're your great ideas, then you should be the one to make them real. Strike out for yourself and prove him wrong. Then he'll see just how brilliant you really are - and he'll be coming to you for inspiration. -Leo

Dear Leo,

I really like this guy, and he doesn't seem to have a girlfriend. Problem is, a lot of my friends like him too. Should I go after him, even if it makes my friends mad?


Dear Lovelorn,
Don't forget that this guy can make a choice, too. There's nothing wrong with being friendly, and if he feels the same way, then your friends won't have any right to complain. But coming on strong might not be the right idea, because you could lose your friends and lose him, too. - Leo

Dear Leo,

I kind of like my best friend's adopted sister. Am I screwed?

We Could Be Stepbrothers!

Dear Could Be,

Yep, you're screwed. -Leo

This time there's no need for exaggeration. The letters really do come in. Two by Monday, three the next day, a staggering five on Wednesday. By Friday, Sam's written three weeks' worth of columns, enough to get him through finals. Which is awesome, because finals are eating him alive.

That doesn't mean it's all joy in Mudville, though. Sam comes in on Friday to help with "paste-up" (an archaic term Mr. Turner insists on, even though it's all done on computers and no paste is involved) to discover a newsroom sparsely populated and silent. Ed and Harry are nowhere to be found. Chuck is alone, bent over his desk, furiously attacking printouts with a red pen.

"Becky quit," says a soft voice behind him. Sam jumps. Ruby's slithered up behind him. Sam's starting to think she might be a ninja.

"Why? What happened?"

"Not sure. She and Chuck had some kind of big fight, and she stormed out. What was it she was saying?" Ruby cocks her head, her dark hair falling over her neck, and Sam gets the feeling that she's just pretending to have trouble remembering. The move feels practiced. "Oh, what was it-- that's right!" Her head snaps back up straight, and her eyes narrow. "She said: 'Watch me.'"

Sam almost laughs, thinking she's doing an impression of Becky's melodrama. But there's no telling if it was played for laughs or not -- Ruby's got plenty of melodrama of her own.

"Hmm." He surveys the room. "Where are Ed and Harry, then?"

"They're fighting, too. Can't even be in the same room."

Sam's eyebrows rise. "The two of them? They're like conjoined twins. They're fighting?"

"Did you just say 'conjoined'... oh, never mind." Ruby smiles, her lips thick and wide, and leans in closer. "Word in the hall is, Harry's been smooching Ed's little sister on the sly. Who thought he had it in him, huh?"

Something occurs to Sam then that makes his stomach clench. "Ed's sister?"

"Yeah, she's this little freshman, Maggie? Cute girl. Asian, on the math team and does track. Way too cool for Harry, if you ask me--"

Sam passes a hand over his forehead. He feels faint. "So she's adopted?"

"I think they both are." Ruby's smiling just slightly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. Sam doesn't see a thing.

"I might be the worst advice columnist in the world," he groans.


Sam has thrown three pillows at Gabriel and the little bastard still won't stop laughing.

"You are," he keeps saying. "Worst advice ever."

"How was I supposed to know?" Sam throws up his hands. "And the Becky thing could be completely unrelated."

"Could be. And that letter could have been written by that OTHER girl on the newspaper staff with a boyfriend." Gabriel rocks backward onto Sam's bed, big shit-eating grin on his face.

He looks altogether too good with his head on Sam's pillow, and all at once Sam's no longer concerned about anything else. He rises from his chair and goes to the bed, heart pounding.

Gabriel looks up at him and gives him a lazy smile. "Well?" he says. "You gonna join m--"

He can't continue. Sam's over him and on him in an instant, pressing his body down, hands tightly gripping the pillow on either side of Gabriel's head. He feels like he's going out of his mind, like his brain's no longer driving this bus. He breathes hot and ragged into Gabriel's mouth, and as their bodies build up static and friction Sam can only think, ~I need more. I need way more.~

"Gabe," he breathes. "Gabe, I want to--"

Gabriel groans. "Hold on, hold on, Sam, wait."

It hurts to move, to pull back and to sit up, but Gabriel's in serious mode. He props himself up against the headboard, his legs parted and his erection painfully visible behind tented pants. "We haven't talked about this much, and I figure we should before we lose our heads--"

Sam shakes his head. "What? What are you-- what haven't we talked about?"

Gabriel stares at him levelly. "Are you stupid? Sex."

Sam would echo the word back at him but his jaw has stopped working.

"The thing is," Gabriel says, looking kind of embarrassed. "I told you I'd done it. But I kinda don't want to--"

The stubborn piece of bone that is Sam's jaw flaps a few more times. "You-- you-- you-- SEX? Really?"

"It'd just be weird," Gabriel says. "I know, I'm not the type, but my family's religious, and just because I can't get you pregnant doesn't mean--"

Then Sam gets fine motor control back. "I don't want to have sex with you!"

"Huh?" And then Gabriel looks a little ticked. "You don't?"

"No!" Sam laughs. "I want-- I just thought I'd give you a--" He's too embarrassed to say the words; instead he cups his hand over Gabriel's crotch.

Gabriel swears and pushes his hips forward. His eyes meet Sam's. "Really? All this for that?"

"What do you mean, all this? You're the one who freaked out." Sam turns over on his side. He's teasing now; there's laughter in his voice. "Never mind, you've killed the mood."

"Sam!" Gabriel slides in behind him, poking at him with little thrusts of his hips.

"That's right, I wanna hear you beg."

"Sam, you cocktease!"

Sam smiles and turns over. He might be the worst advice columnist in the world, but he has the best boyfriend, so that kind of makes up for it.

This is an interlude. A brief diversion. We'll return to the story before we're done.

For now, let's return to a little over a week ago, when Cas Engel came down with the flu and Sam was tapped to cover the school board meeting in his stead. For whatever reason, Gabriel insisted on tagging along, and despite Sam's worry that Gabriel would cause a scene or laugh the whole time, he was actually remarkably well-behaved as he sat next to Sam in a back row of the auditorium, well behind the rows of well-meaning PTA members and concerned local taxpayers.

Well-behaved, except for his thumb.

His ~thumb.~

Gabriel started the meeting with his hand on Sam's knee. As the event progressed, his hand crept steadily up until it found purchase on Sam's thigh. And his thumb slipped, almost unnoticeably, down against his inner thigh and began to stroke back and forth.

And back and forth and back and forth, never speeding up or venturing into more interesting territory. Just stroking. Steadily. For an hour and change.

By the end of the meeting Sam was so hard he was afraid to stand up.

"Hey," Gabriel said after feasting his eyes on Sam's reddened face. "Didn't your mom say she was going to pick us up at nine?"

Sam managed a squeaking noise somewhat similar to a "Hm?"

Gabriel shrugged. "It's only 8:15."

"You're right," Sam said, jerkily checking his watch. "I should call..."

Gabriel's hand on his thigh squeezed. Hard. His eyes were gleaming.

Together they tumbled into a side hallway, far from the thinning ranks of school board members. It was December and Sam was burning up. His shirt and Gabriel's were off, their coats laid down as an impromptu blanket, as they slid their hands around each other and pressed so close together Sam thought he might burst from the pressure. His moans were echoing like music against the walls.

Then Gabriel's hands were at his fly, and Sam gasped and seized up.

Gabriel didn't say a word, just pressed his face into Sam's neck and worked hard at freeing him. Sam's pulse was battering against his throat. No one besides a doctor and himself had touched him there since he was a baby. This was breaking a wall.

And then it was done, the wall was gone, and Sam was done. Gabriel barely had his hand looped around Sam's cock before a shout ripped from Sam's throat and he came, shamefully, wetting Gabriel's hand and his own jeans and feeling like the whole world had just come undone in the best possible way.

"Oh, God," he kept saying between desperate gulps of air. "Oh, God."

Gabriel chuckled against Sam's neck. "Feel good?" he said, then, without waiting for an answer, "Good thing your coat will cover that up."

Sam laughed like a giddy fool and dragged Gabriel up to kiss him hard.


So that's what happened a week ago, and that's why Sam is now lying on his bed next to Gabriel, his hand at the zipper of his jeans, saying, "Okay?"

Gabriel is trying to keep his signature smile alight. It's not working. "Oh, hell, yeah."

Sam is nervous as hell, but he wants to give Gabriel the same trip into the stratosphere that Sam still hasn't come down from entirely. His hands shake as he eases down Gabriel's pants and boxers and just looks, the looking feeling almost more foreign than the touching. It's still strange territory while he stares, but from the moment he reaches out his hand to touch, he's exploring and learning, just as he has the rest of Gabriel's body. And it's like home in that way.

Plus, Gabriel is breathing in little hitches and puffs, punctuated by soft keening moans, and he's moving his hips in to meet Sam's hand, and he's breathtaking. Sam himself has forgotten to breathe.

"Oh, Sam," Gabriel whimpers. "Oh, God."

Sam leans in to kiss him and gets a mouthful of enthusiastic tongue. Laughing, he drops his head to lick at Gabriel's neck.

Gabriel breaks away, his eyes panicked. For an instant Sam thinks he's done something wrong.

But what Gabriel whispers is, "Sam, I'm gonna..."

"Go ahead," Sam urges, and kisses the hollow of Gabriel's throat.

At once his hand is wet and his ears are burning with the echo of the agonized shout that Gabriel gives, then smothers in the mop of Sam's hair. It's possibly the most satisfying moment of Sam's life. He did that. He drove Gabriel crazy.

He's grinning beside Gabriel for a long time before Gabriel abruptly turns his head and says, "Do you want something?"

Sam knows what he means, but his answer is, "Yeah. Spend Christmas with me."

cassiopeia7: Gabriel: cassiopeia7 on February 23rd, 2011 03:58 pm (UTC)
MOAR! (Please?)
Laurenjabber_moose on February 23rd, 2011 09:48 pm (UTC)
Which part do i love all over, first? The Newspaper crew? The awkwardHot. The hot? the omgsomuchloveforthis.



Chaos, Panic, Pandemonium – my work here is done.: supernatural--richard says slash is loveriveroceansea on February 24th, 2011 01:02 am (UTC)

:Runs outside to jump in the snow:

So hot!