The Sexiest Angel in the Garrison is currently not available. I'm probably having sex with your crush or having fun doing the things you always wanted to do but never had the balls to try. Leave a message.
[ Greg has at least a decent idea of the depth of what he's asking. It's probably a little bit unfair, considering he knows that Gabriel would have a hard time telling him 'no' at all when it comes to anything he actually wants to do, but he would never try to take advantage of that. He's spent some time now mulling this question over in his head, and now is probably kind of an odd time to bring it up, but then, it does give him something to focus on aside from his own sore muscles.
It's clear that Gabriel is thoroughly ashamed of that state that they're in and that he thinks they're horribly ugly to look at. Greg isn't sure what Gabriel thinks he would see, if he was to let their gazes meet - aversion? Pity? Surely not anything like disgust. Of course none of that crosses Greg's expression as he studies them carefully. There might be an almost pained look in his eyes, but as broken and neglected as they are, he's still sees beauty in them, underneath the dirt and soot.
He's never asked if anything could be done to fix them, partially because Gabriel has been so apparently desperate to ignore their existence entirely, and partially because a good opportunity to just hasn't come up. He's still not sure by any means, but he knows now that he wants to try, if Gabriel is willing and able to let him. Just as much as Gabriel obviously wants to protect Greg's own stubbornly pristine and radiant wings.
He glances back up to Gabriel's face, briefly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, a bit confused at that observation. ]
How is it funny?
[ It's slow, very slow, and careful, but he will reach out to brush his fingers against the closest outer feathers - careful, as always, of the spark that tends to happen at first when he gets close to them. If and when Gabriel can manage to look at Greg's face again, he won't see anything like disgust. If anything there's almost a sort of reverence to the way he regards Gabriel's wings, and his hands are steady, his touch light and... loving, really, as he slowly slides feathers back into place, brushes aside dirt, and smooths out the rough patches that he can reach without moving. He's not really aware that he's all but holding his breath as he does it.
Greg's never even thought about the potential of being able to heal or fix anything with this angelic power that he's only just started to really make an effort to understand. It's entirely likely that he has at least some innate ability that he might be able to one day learn how to tap into properly, and it's also possible that it might respond to his quietly, but deeply emotional state here.
If he stopped long enough to think about it, he might wonder if he looks a bit ridiculous at the moment, still completely naked except for the towel draped over his lap, his own wings spread and curled in slightly, orienting - as usual - toward Gabriel, but his mind is very much elsewhere. ]
[Meeting Greg's eyes that first time isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen even if the hint of pity feels just like disgust. It takes a moment or two for Gabriel to recover from the fact Greg isn't horrified, that even seeing them so close doesn't make him turn away.
But Greg is one of those good people. Gabriel is actually 100% certain that if Greg was repulsed right now he wouldn't show it. Because he puts other people before himself.
When he first hesitantly touches Gabriel’s feathers there's a tiny shiver. He can't help that, they are still so highly sensitive even in this poor state that he can't resist leaning in a little. Besides as Greg's fingers comb through and the dirt falls away, they feel a little better.
Of course all the dirt and the dead feathers end up on the bedsheets but not for long. Gabriel is careful to glare those into oblivion.
Then his attention can go back to Greg. He can't meet his eye again and explain that last comment - that it's not really funny but his wings, like him are beyond redemption. It'll probably just upset Greg and it wouldn't do Gabe any good either. ]
Thank you. For offering. I shouldn't ever have let them get this bad but... but once they were... like this, there didn't seem any point in doing anything.
[Because it had depressed him. It had depressed him so much he'd started just to pretend the problem wasn't there. Because that was easier.
He relaxes a little more as a warm safe feeling that spreads through his wings. For a moment he confuses it with contentment, but that's not it. And it becomes very obviously not that when one of the larger bald patches, near to Greg's fingers, is suddenly unbelievably itchy.
And then new, fine quills are forming, small at the moment, only around the edges of the bald spot, but they're certainly there. He's unusually silent for a long moment, until the area of patchy wing is almost a third smaller. ]
[ Greg suspected that Gabriel's comment was regarding something about the state of his wings being appropriate for him in general, and the lack of a reply only reinforces that notion. He knows Gabriel feels that way, but hearing it would probably make him cringe.
Because what could he say to that? He doesn't dare breathe a word about hope, as much as he might be desperately holding onto it. This isn't the Hell Gabriel knows, the Heaven that Greg went to isn't the one that Gabriel was from. There is a lot going on here that Greg doesn't understand, and just the fact that he's here in this Hell is enough to keep that spark of hope alive. Maybe he doesn't have anything to say that he thinks could possibly convince Gabriel of the same, but maybe just the fact that he's here gives Gabriel something to hold onto.
He's just as surprised as Gabriel to see those little quills form underneath his fingers. He doesn't understand it, either, but if it's working, he's not going to complain. ]
I don't know. [ The words are little more than a murmur as he brushes his fingertips lightly over a few more displaced feathers. He won't directly touch those brand new quills, he knows how itchy that would be, but he will continue to work around the edges of other bare spots, still sorting feathers and brushing away sort as he goes.
Not every touch is strictly necessary to straighten bent feathers, though. Greg's fingers stroke fondly even over the ones that are whole and not put out of place. He hadn't really intended to go over their entire length like this, but now that he's started, it's hard to want to stop until he's gone over every feather.
Greg's not sure what sort of state Gabriel's going to be in by the time he's done, assuming he lets this go on. He knows that he would be in a bit of one if he was in the receiving end of this much attention, both emotionally and physically. It's affecting him a lot as it is to be on this end of it, though certainly differently than any of his previous experiences so far. ]
[As the feathers continue to grow in, Gabriel shivers. He used to molt every so often when he was alive, once every hundred years or so, and that was itchy and horrible. It had been the reason for some of his rare visits to a beach, because rolling in the sand had helped no end. The fact he was still finding sand in his wings a decade later had not discouraged him.
Thinking about the feel of sand scratching at his wings actually helps, a little, but it doesn't offer complete relief. Which is good, because he misses the way Greg looks at that moment, the sadness there, the desire to push on through because the grass would be brighter on the otherside, right? If he's stuck here, he's stuck here. What is it humans say? Worse things happen at sea?
He takes a breath, which is actually far shakier than he realised it would be, but there are those fingers still combing through his wings. Not combing now, caressing. It feels nice, it really does and it's very difficult to keep his eyes open- they want to slide closed like a contented cat's. Of course, the longer Greg does this, the more content Gabriel will get. Although perhaps content is the wrong word.]
I'm pretty sure it's you. Don't stop.
[The wing Greg is focused on at the moment looks so much better, not perfect but certainly less threadbare. They might even look... well, half-way decent, until you get up close. They feel so much better. It's as if they had been weighing him down but that has slowly started to lift and maybe...
You know, maybe Greg is right to hope. Things can change, right? Who knows what might happen. Maybe you get let off eternity in Hell after a few thousand years good behaviour. Maybe even less, if you know people who know people.
He shuffles closer. It's not easy, sat like this on the bed, but it doesn't matter. He can lean in and rest his head on Greg's shoulder, letting a little happy noise escape him. It's one of those moments where everything is okay, and existence seems easy. Which is why Gabriel has to interrupt it with more talking. ]
Can I ask you something? You don't have to ask, I just... want to know. What did you used to do, when you had days off? Back in the world?
[ Getting these wings back to something like their normal state is going to take time, Greg doesn't doubt that. Several years of neglect can't be overcome in one day, he thinks, especially not by someone like him who doesn't really know what he's doing. At least, not consciously, though he can't deny feeling moved by instincts that he still doesn't understand. It's the same sort of thing that makes his wings so expressive in general, moving them before he even thinks about doing it, as if he's had them for a much longer time than he actually has.
If Gabriel's telling him not to stop, he definitely won't. He'll work his way over the other wing, too, until he's probably literally touched every feather in Gabriel's wings at least briefly, and hovered over those bare patches where new feathers are just starting to emerge. They won't grow in overnight, of course, but they will in time. Greg is going to look after them, after all.
As Gabriel shuffles closer, Greg's arms will slide around him, and unsurprisingly his wings do the same. The white feathers are gentle against those newly preened darker ones, but they will stretch around and curl protectively around them, trying to pull them in close in a way that reminds Greg of that time not so long ago when Gabriel's wings stretched protectively around him. In a strange way, he almost wonders if he has any right to do all of this - he's not an angel, not really, right? He can probably be forgiven a bit of transgression in helping to heal what is broken, at least. Maybe he can't really be blamed for trying to shield those patched wings for as long as he can, regardless of what he is. Or isn't.
He lets his temple rest very lightly against Gabriel's cheek for a moment, a gesture that's affectionate rather than trying to lean on him. He does smile at the questions, amused as he actually thinks about it. It's probably not as exciting as Gabriel might have hoped, but he really had so little time off, generally. Sure, he'd manage a vacation now and then, but outside of that... ]
Usually? Laundry. Buying groceries. Cleaning up around the flat and working on the garden. Sometimes I'd even get out to a pub and manage to catch an entire game of rugby before my phone started going off.
[ 'Work' encompassed so much of his life, even more so after his last divorce. He didn't quite realise exactly how much so until he died, and suddenly he didn't have a job anymore. ]
That happened a lot, too. It's felt kind of strange, to be honest, that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing in so long.
[Getting them looking anywhere decent is going to take a long time, Greg is right about that. But getting the worst of the dirt and debris out of them has done no end of good. Especially to Gabriel's mindset. Greg seems to have started a ball rolling here, because his hopefulness is certainly contagious. Maybe if Gabriel himself was a bit more pro-active, maybe if he bothered to spend as much time looking after his wings as he should, then they'd continue to get better? Maybe they'd even look as good as they did when he got down here? It's possible, after all.
Besides, the more time he spends in Little Eden with Greg, the less time he's in the stifling heat of town, and he's pretty sure the heat and dryness of the air has what made his wings start to burn in the first place. And if Greg's going to look after them too, well... Gabriel really won't mind that at all.
Honestly, Greg is an angel. Gabriel would regret his "dead human with wings" comment if he knew how much Greg had taken it on board. He's just as deserving, possibly more deserving of the title than Gabriel is, at least if you take what they're doing presently into the equation. Greg is actively doing all those things humans believe angels do- protecting and safeguarding, loving and performing little miracles. Gabriel? He's eating candy and playing with dogs.
All that aside, Gabriel wants Greg to do this, he likes it when those gorgeous wings curl around him; he likes feeling safe and close to Greg, able to feel his breath across his skin. It's... it's good. There are better words, but Gabriel can't think of their English equivalents at that moment. He's too happy to have to think of words.
As Greg speaks, Gabriel finds himself smiling again, eyes closing.] That sounds pretty good. Pub and rugby, not the laundry. That sounds boring.
[Rugby. Gabriel liked rugby. No doubt it was the mix of well-built men in shorts and violence that appealed to him, but there wasn't anything quite like that in Hell. The nearest sport was more like American Football. But maybe they could get good enough reception in Little Eden to catch a game. He'd have to find out when Greg was out, and maybe that would be a nice surprise at some point.]
Got to tell you, I'm sort of glad no one is ringing you at all hours. That would cut into the time you're mine. They can have you for pre-agreed shifts only.
[And that's when Gabriel shifts to kiss the nearest bit of Greg his hand, which happens to be the edge of his jaw.]
[ The next time Greg goes in for a shower, Gabriel is definitely going to be dragged in with him so that he can properly wash off any of the remaining dirt and soot. The clean water will be good for them, Greg thinks, and he's aware that he probably doesn't want to know long it's been since they were washed off like that. Now that Gabriel has let Greg start this, he should know that there's no stopping it. He's going to make it a point from now on to make sure that they're taken care of, an effort which he suspects that Gabriel will help with now that he's got good reasons to hope.
If Greg's fond, gentle attention to them wasn't enough on its' own, there are always the very visible new feathers starting to form that can remind him of this even when Greg isn't around. It will definitely make him happy if Gabriel catches onto his sense of hope, even if he would have a hard time explaining exactly how he can hold onto it so tightly. Still.
It's entirely possible that one of these days the 'dead human with wings' thing will come up again, because Greg really has taken in on board in a very major way. Not at all just because of Gabriel, though he probably won't admit that he took it more to heart from Gabriel than anyone else. It's much larger than just that, though. It's not actually an uncommon sentiment. Greg definitely didn't down here looking for a sense of camaraderie, of course, but even in Heaven he had... mixed feelings about being there. He doesn't feel like he's one of them, but he doesn't belong here, either. He can't blame anyone in general for pointing out the obvious.
At least in moments like this, he doesn't worry about what he is, or where he fits into the grand scheme of things. It's just the two of them, wings curled in together and bodies close, and it doesn't matter who they are, or where they are. Not really. ]
It was boring, but it had to be done.
[ Being human was all about doing those little boring day to day things, many of which he still goes through these days even if he doesn't really have to anymore. His routine was a bit different back when he was married, but he had gotten used to living the single life long before he actually died.
Getting into a sport of any sort that isn't a thinly disguised bloodbath would probably be something Greg would like. He's been hesitant to even look into such things, given those tendencies, but it's possible that there are such things out there. The idea of being able to catch up with a game from the living world hasn't occurred to him at all. ]
I'm still yours even when I'm stuck at work. [ He just smiles at the rest of it. He's sure that one day there will be at least some people that will be ringing him at all hours again. He knows what the point was, though, and admittedly work tends to cut into enough of their time together as it is.
Not right now, though. Right now there's nothing to stop him from shifting at that kiss so that he can tilt his head to catch Gabriel's lips in a proper kiss - it doesn't even start particularly slow, there's too much emotion and passion that have been building up over the past several minutes, lurking just beneath the surface up until this point. ]
[ You know what's going to happen when you try to drag Gabriel into a shower Greg. It might start out all innocent and "washing the soot out" but then there will be suds and skin on skin and hungry kisses and Gabriel is going to end up against those cold tiles. Not that he minds, not at all. Gabriel has always avoided getting his wings wet though, if only because his don't seem to dry as nicely or as quickly once they're sodden. But Greg will no doubt see to it they're very carefully dried, lovingly so. Gabriel really hasn't got any reason to complain.
He should never have listened to what Gabriel said then. It was just a bitter remark in passing, made before they knew each other. Gabriel didn't like Little Eden, the concept still doesn't sit well with him, and it was a cruel thing to say to a man who had done nothing to him and only showed him kindness and understanding. It will clearly be one of those things that Gabriel always regrets saying.
Luckily for Gabriel those thoughts only spring up in the middle of the night in the darkness when he doesn't sleep. It's just a pity he rarely sleeps. Still, Greg provides a wonderful distraction right now. In fact, Greg is always a perfect distraction from everything that's horrible. Here everything is perfect, or as near to perfect as it can ever be. ]
Of course. The sight of you shirtless would have been too distracting for everyone else.
[ That's why Gabriel would never have been a good human. Washing up, laundry, hoovering? No thank you. Those things sort themselves out- normally because he wills it so, or because some poor sap has already done it. At least he cleans up after himself when he makes breakfast, and when dirty clothes get taken off in Greg's house they end up clean and pressed and back in Greg's closet by morning? He does try to earn his keep in that regard.
Rugby isn't even thinly disguised. Well, some of it isn't. Gabriel's always preferred League rugby, because there's nothing in the rules about biting the opposite team, but he'll watch Union where biting is banned if Greg prefers.]
Hmm, but there I have to share you. There's paperwork and... bad guys and distractions.
[Distractions from things like this, the touch of lips suddenly hot and needy, like a switch had been flicked on. Gabriel's moving, wings shuddering as they open further, to balance them as he moves to better to lean in and kiss Greg back properly, his hands moving over Greg's bare skin. It's really not fair, for Greg to still be naked and Gabriel to be fully dressed. But that can be fixed later, right now there's just the kiss and the desire to be as close to Greg as he can be.]
[ Greg does, indeed, know what will happen if he drags Gabriel into the shower, even with a fairly innocent intent. There's nothing wrong with that, either, though Sherlock tends to get rather annoyed with being locked out of the bathroom. He'll just have to live with the fact that they'll need more time to deal with Gabriel's wings... and, inevitably, for other things as well.
Wet feathers are almost unbearably heavy, but the water is fairly essential when it comes to washing off all the dirt that tends to collect on them, and it helps keep them from getting too dried out. Greg has gotten a lot of practice at dealing with his own so far, so he's a little more confident about extending that care to Gabriel's, too. Gabriel has seen him more than once, after all, carefully preening through his feathers after a shower, drying and aligning them properly again, while looking for any loose ones that need to come out. Just smoothing them out regularly seems to do a lot toward keeping them in good shape.
Now he wonders a bit if there's something more to do with it, something to do with that mostly untapped and unrefined power of it. It's a thought. But the point is, if he can do it with his own, he can do it with Gabriel's, too, and that makes him... actually rather happy.
There is definitely a lot to Little Eden that doesn't make sense, and plenty of reasons for people to hate it, along with everyone who lives in it. Greg knew that before he'd even stepped foot in Little Hades. It will take some convincing, one of these days, to get Greg to truly accept the fact that him having wings and strange angelic powers isn't just some kind of joke, or at the very least a severe overestimation of who and what he is.
But that will be a conversation for another time. Later on they can talk about rugby, too, but now here is kissing, and Gabriel's hands roaming over his chest in a very distracting sort of way. He's not too fussed about all of Gabriel's clothes, not when he's leaning forward into Gabriel's touch and his mouth. The hand that's not preoccupied with helping to prop him up on the bed is sliding into Gabriel's hair, tangling tightly there and pulling him that much closer into the kiss.
It's inevitable that one day he'll lose this intense, sudden edge of want, and it will mellow out somewhat, he's sure. That's just how these things tend to work out. Eventually. He's starting to wonder how long that's going to be, though, considering that he feels just as eager for Gabriel's touch, and all those noises he makes, as he did the first time. ]
[ Having Sherlock banging and hammering on the door is probably in the top three mood killers of all time. Luckily, Gabriel has more than enough ideas to ensure they remain undisturbed. Firstly, just waiting for the opportune moment when Sherlock isn't in the house, or just tying him up and gagging him somewhere, or fucking to a very loud power ballad so they don't have to hear him. Of course, Gabriel could also just... mess with reality and give the house an extra bathroom. Obviously, that would make it a little bit more like a TARDIS, and it would probably be contrary to most of Little Eden's building regulations, but who cares? Gabriel will go to strange lengths in order to ensure his private time with Greg is not interrupted.
Gabriel has always enjoyed watching Greg groom his wings. He loves anything to do with them, which is why he'll lay there on the bed and watch, completely absorbed. But his own wings are different. He's tried to keep them tidy- when he was alive he did it (ha ha) religiously, but since dying, it had become a chore he felt no drive to do. With Greg around, he's certainly going to get the encouragement to do it more, or at least, he's got someone to do it for him. Which is even more enjoyable.
Of course, they're still acting like teenagers, and if Greg is going to make these wing-grooming sessions more regular, they'll have to try and fit that into all the other sex they're having. It's not an appalling prospect. It's a very intimate thing, almost more so than sex, and Gabriel feels like somehow now he's closer to Greg than he was before, that some secret between them was shared, maybe. Maybe it's because Gabriel trusted him, and Greg didn't betray that trust. Maybe it's something simpler than that, the fact that his wings feel so much better, so much lighter, and now he has no excuse to hide them. Which means he can brush them up against Greg's wings whenever he wants, like now. Who can blame him, when it feels so good he just has to feel Greg's soft feathers against his? Even the static that jumps between them feels gentler.
He makes another happy sound when Greg's fingers curl into his hair, the kiss deepening a little more before someone is seriously going to need to stop for air. Breaking apart just means Gabriel can catch Greg's lower lip gently with his teeth.]
[ Wing-grooming sessions have already become a thing for Greg, it's not at all difficult now to see fitting Gabriel into that intensely personal routine. It's something he started back when he was up in Heaven in the very beginning, following advice from his mentors up there, and it felt horribly awkward at first, but he's gotten used to it now. Being able to focus on Gabriel's wings, too, helps him forget about any lingering awkwardness he sometimes feels about his own.
It is a very intimate thing. If it hadn't been obvious enough in Gabriel's initial reluctance to let it happen - even though they've been rather intimate already - it definitely felt that way as he gently worked his way through those feathers so carefully. It was an exchange of trust that Greg was entirely willing to reciprocate, and it's obvious that it's lifted at least a little of that weight off of Gabriel's shoulders.
That seems fair, given that he's done so much to do the same for Greg. He really can't say how much it means to him that Gabriel has been here for him every day after they're both free from work. Any time he starts to feel worn down by all of it, Gabriel is there, ready with warm embraces and kisses and unwavering faith in his ability. In him, in general.
He hopes that at least some of that comes across in the warmth of that kiss, if not in the flowers left where Gabriel will find them after work, or in the fact that Greg keeps his kitchen stocked with a somewhat ridiculous amount of sugar nowadays.
Of course his mind is already turning toward far less... chaste, thoughts, clearly, especially when Gabriel's teeth catch onto his lip like that. His fingers are still twined tightly in Gabriel's hair as he tilts his head to trail kisses and light, teasing nips along the length of Gabriel's jaw, working steadily toward his neck. He doesn't stop to speak, he just murmurs quietly against Gabriel's skin. ]
[ Now they've started down this route, Gabriel can't imagine them stopping. Of course, he's going to have to return the favour at some point. Greg is meticulous about his wings, but Gabriel is certain he can pay just as much attention. He might not be able to with his own wings, but for Greg? For Greg he can be as patient and as careful as a saint. Probably even better than a saint, all things considered.
It is an intimate thing, and yes, Gabriel had felt more than a little concerned about opening this up to Greg. But for all the time they've spent together, clothed and unclothed, Greg has put a lot of trust in him from the very beginning. Not many people do, and Gabriel wouldn't ordinarily blame them for that. Being here when Greg comes home, that's... well, that a selfish thing. He likes Greg, he likes the respect and the affection. Oh sure, other people respect the idea of him, of an angelic thing that can answer prayers, but that isn't actually him. Being with Greg is... a little ego boost, every smile and every touch and every single kiss. The fact Greg doesn't see it as Gabriel being selfish is something of a character flaw.
But it doesn't mean Gabriel doesn't like him. Really, really like him. It just means he knows he's getting more out of it than Greg is.
Which is when Greg's mouth moves down the sensitive line of Gabriel's throat. It really is very sensitive, and it makes him whimper softly, reaching out to curl his fingers in Greg's wings to steady himself as he tips his head to give Greg more room. It's hard to believe that a human form has so many of those little spots that react so strongly. He's really going to have to explore more of Greg's one of these days. Hopefully soon.
And then the lips part against his neck and the words, although muffled, are clear enough. Gabriel opens his eyes, glancing over to where the little dog sits, thankfully still playing with her new toy and not watching them. He groans, but this time because he really doesn't want to move, and disentangles himself from Greg. ]
Come on, this is grown-up time.
[So saying, the little puppy is scooped up and gently deposited outside. She won't mind being shut out, not for a while, not when she has things to play with.
And then he's on his way back, pulling off his shirt.]
[ Greg knows that Gabriel's neck is a particularly sensitive spot, and one that he rather likes taking advantage of, and not just because of the inevitable reaction it gets. There are just certain places that he enjoys kissing and biting at - especially so over the line of Gabriel's jaw, down the side of his neck, and along his throat all the way to his collarbone. Of course as sensitive as those spots seem to be, Gabriel is also very vocal about things, in general. Greg doesn't have any complaints about that.
He'll let Gabriel disentangle himself, wings shuffling out of the way so that he can put the puppy out. She does, indeed, have plenty of toys at this point, and can keep herself entertained well enough for a while. She'd definitely not starved for attention, given that she generally spends most of the day with Gabriel, and sees quite a lot of Greg in the evenings.
While Gabriel does that, Greg is settling himself back closer toward the edge of the bed. He's watching intently as Gabriel turns and strips off his shirt, a somewhat pleased smile tugging at his lips as he leans forward slightly, his arms at his sides. There's an unspoken invitation there for Gabriel to settle in his lap, one way or another. The towel has been casually tossed aside at this point.
It's a very subtle thing, but he still feels a little bit shy about sitting here, completely naked like this. It's one thing to be at least partially covered by a sheet, or a towel, or actively tangled with Gabriel, and another to be naked and the center of attention with no distractions. It's not bad, he's just still getting used to it again. ]
[ Gabriel can't help it. Greg just seems to know exactly what bits of him to kiss, bite and caress, as if somehow there are signs painted over his skin that Greg can read and understand. But perhaps there are just certain areas where lips and hands are drawn to- Greg likes his shoulders touched, likes the tension carefully teased out of them, and while Greg is so quiet in comparison, he doesn't need to make a lot of noise for Gabriel to know he likes it.
The shirt is dropped on the floor unceremoniously, followed by the t-shirt that Gabriel habitually wears underneath (no one who knows the Winchesters ever wears just one layer, even in Hell). He wriggles out of the rest of his clothes, and then looks up to meet Greg's eyes watching him. If Greg feel like he's the centre of attention, he should try being Gabriel in that moment.
But Gabriel's confidence is a little more solid, and he grins wickedly as he looks Greg over. There is nothing at all Greg should be concerned about. He's gorgeous, even when it's obvious he feels a little shy. It's terribly endearing.
And it's why Gabriel clears the distance between them and does as he's invited, knees in the mattress either side of Greg's legs as he settles there, leaning in to kiss Greg gently.]
[ With Gabriel, Greg is finding out that a lot of their inclinations just match up rather well. A lot of the things he likes to do are things that Gabriel also very much likes to have done to him. Obviously there was comparability there from the start, but it's turning out to go a lot deeper than Greg would have dared to hope, honestly. It's especially surprising given how different their respective lives have been, but this just... works. Somehow.
He occasionally wonders about some of the subtler implications, especially of the angelic sort, but he has a lot on his mind these days without miring himself in such things. There's are so many more immediate concerns to focus on, and those subtle things are usually of a sort that fall into place on their own in time.
As Gabriel settles onto his lap Greg slides his arms around Gabriel's waist, pulling him in close, unhesitating and even eager for even that short distance between them to be completely closed. The kiss, too, he leans into quite willingly, something like amusement curving his lips slightly at the fact that he has to tilt his head back and stretch up to kiss Gabriel when they're positioned like this. ]
You do know that you're horribly biased when it comes to me, right?
[ It's all gentle teasing. He does think that Gabriel's opinion of him is far higher than he deserves, though it's difficult, if not impossible, to convince Gabriel of that. He's just a human, doing the best that he can, in Hell, of all places. Gabriel clearly doesn't just admire him for what he does, he thinks that Greg is something special, and he just doesn't see it, himself. ]
[The truth is Gabriel has been around so long and done so much and been to so many different places that it is very hard not to have some sort of shared expereince with almost every one. That is some of his charm. But things with Greg are different. They are different people with different ideas but somehow they click. MAYBE it's because Greg is always will if to think the best of people and Gabriel is always willing g to have the best thought of him but it's more than that too.
Gabriel doesn't often think about why people click. It's normally obvious to some degree. In this case though he isn't concerned with the why's and how's. He just cares that this feels right and good and they continue feeling that way.]
Am I? Is it a problem?
[Sorry Greg someone has to be biased in your favour. You certainly aren't and that's just not right. You're deserving of much more credit than you give yourself even if you aren't perfect. Who is? Apart from Gabriel obviously.
You aren't ever going to convince Gabriel otherwise on his point so you might as well relax into the lazy warm kisses you're going to get. They're slow and easily passionate, they couldn't be anything but with Gabriel pressed so tightly to Greg and in his lap. His fingers trace down Greg's back over his muscles, dancing over then rather than kneading or rubbing. He just likes to touch have sometimes, to map everything out beneath his hands.]
[ Greg doesn't consider himself worthless, or useless, not by a long shot. He just doesn't see himself the way they do up in Heaven. The way Gabriel does down here. ]
I suppose it's not.
[ Things are much different down here. He's used to being disliked, hated, and generally unwelcome - this was the kind of day where that was made abundantly clear - and in that sea of unpleasant reactions and, at best, grudging acceptance, Gabriel is a breath of fresh air. He might not be able to see himself like that, but that sort of faith means a lot to him.
He is, actually, going to relax into those slow, sensual kisses that he just can't seem to get enough of lately, his own fingers trailing down Gabriel's back until settling lightly on his hips, not quite gripping yet. The light touches along his own back are nice, despite the lingering soreness in some spots. There's a long trail of skin that's still a bit pink along his left side, where he first hit the ground after his tumble out of the window.
He'd much rather take bruises on his back as opposed to his wings, though. Gabriel's taken care of the damage done to those, so now there's really only a couple of missing, broken feathers there. ]
[Gabriel supposes that really, no one thinks of themselves in the same way that other people do. It's a normal thing, but it's still hard. Gabriel knows Greg might not ever see himself the way Gabriel does, but Greg sees something in Gabriel that Gabriel just can't. They're both as bad as each other. And really? When all is said and done, Gabriel appreciates Greg even if Greg can't completely understand why.]
Good. I like being biased when it comes to you.
[When Greg relaxes, Gabriel can feel it. After all, pressed this close and with arms wrapped around him, it's impossible not to know that some of that tension is ebbing away. He likes these kisses, the soft pleased noises he makes should make that clear, and maybe distract Greg a little more from those tender areas. Gabriel is trying not to let his hands stray down to where Greg still hurts, but focusing on his shoulders.
He could put his fingers back through Greg's wings of course, but he knows his own are still very sensitive, and while he knows where this is going to end up, he's not going to rush these kisses. Now when he's actually got to tip his head down to kiss Greg, which always gives him a strange sort of thrill.
Which is one reason he can't help but squirm a little bit in Greg's lap.]
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It's clear that Gabriel is thoroughly ashamed of that state that they're in and that he thinks they're horribly ugly to look at. Greg isn't sure what Gabriel thinks he would see, if he was to let their gazes meet - aversion? Pity? Surely not anything like disgust. Of course none of that crosses Greg's expression as he studies them carefully. There might be an almost pained look in his eyes, but as broken and neglected as they are, he's still sees beauty in them, underneath the dirt and soot.
He's never asked if anything could be done to fix them, partially because Gabriel has been so apparently desperate to ignore their existence entirely, and partially because a good opportunity to just hasn't come up. He's still not sure by any means, but he knows now that he wants to try, if Gabriel is willing and able to let him. Just as much as Gabriel obviously wants to protect Greg's own stubbornly pristine and radiant wings.
He glances back up to Gabriel's face, briefly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, a bit confused at that observation. ]
How is it funny?
[ It's slow, very slow, and careful, but he will reach out to brush his fingers against the closest outer feathers - careful, as always, of the spark that tends to happen at first when he gets close to them. If and when Gabriel can manage to look at Greg's face again, he won't see anything like disgust. If anything there's almost a sort of reverence to the way he regards Gabriel's wings, and his hands are steady, his touch light and... loving, really, as he slowly slides feathers back into place, brushes aside dirt, and smooths out the rough patches that he can reach without moving. He's not really aware that he's all but holding his breath as he does it.
Greg's never even thought about the potential of being able to heal or fix anything with this angelic power that he's only just started to really make an effort to understand. It's entirely likely that he has at least some innate ability that he might be able to one day learn how to tap into properly, and it's also possible that it might respond to his quietly, but deeply emotional state here.
If he stopped long enough to think about it, he might wonder if he looks a bit ridiculous at the moment, still completely naked except for the towel draped over his lap, his own wings spread and curled in slightly, orienting - as usual - toward Gabriel, but his mind is very much elsewhere. ]
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But Greg is one of those good people. Gabriel is actually 100% certain that if Greg was repulsed right now he wouldn't show it. Because he puts other people before himself.
When he first hesitantly touches Gabriel’s feathers there's a tiny shiver. He can't help that, they are still so highly sensitive even in this poor state that he can't resist leaning in a little. Besides as Greg's fingers comb through and the dirt falls away, they feel a little better.
Of course all the dirt and the dead feathers end up on the bedsheets but not for long. Gabriel is careful to glare those into oblivion.
Then his attention can go back to Greg. He can't meet his eye again and explain that last comment - that it's not really funny but his wings, like him are beyond redemption. It'll probably just upset Greg and it wouldn't do Gabe any good either. ]
Thank you. For offering. I shouldn't ever have let them get this bad but... but once they were... like this, there didn't seem any point in doing anything.
[Because it had depressed him. It had depressed him so much he'd started just to pretend the problem wasn't there. Because that was easier.
He relaxes a little more as a warm safe feeling that spreads through his wings. For a moment he confuses it with contentment, but that's not it. And it becomes very obviously not that when one of the larger bald patches, near to Greg's fingers, is suddenly unbelievably itchy.
And then new, fine quills are forming, small at the moment, only around the edges of the bald spot, but they're certainly there. He's unusually silent for a long moment, until the area of patchy wing is almost a third smaller. ]
Was that you?
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Because what could he say to that? He doesn't dare breathe a word about hope, as much as he might be desperately holding onto it. This isn't the Hell Gabriel knows, the Heaven that Greg went to isn't the one that Gabriel was from. There is a lot going on here that Greg doesn't understand, and just the fact that he's here in this Hell is enough to keep that spark of hope alive. Maybe he doesn't have anything to say that he thinks could possibly convince Gabriel of the same, but maybe just the fact that he's here gives Gabriel something to hold onto.
He's just as surprised as Gabriel to see those little quills form underneath his fingers. He doesn't understand it, either, but if it's working, he's not going to complain. ]
I don't know. [ The words are little more than a murmur as he brushes his fingertips lightly over a few more displaced feathers. He won't directly touch those brand new quills, he knows how itchy that would be, but he will continue to work around the edges of other bare spots, still sorting feathers and brushing away sort as he goes.
Not every touch is strictly necessary to straighten bent feathers, though. Greg's fingers stroke fondly even over the ones that are whole and not put out of place. He hadn't really intended to go over their entire length like this, but now that he's started, it's hard to want to stop until he's gone over every feather.
Greg's not sure what sort of state Gabriel's going to be in by the time he's done, assuming he lets this go on. He knows that he would be in a bit of one if he was in the receiving end of this much attention, both emotionally and physically. It's affecting him a lot as it is to be on this end of it, though certainly differently than any of his previous experiences so far. ]
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Thinking about the feel of sand scratching at his wings actually helps, a little, but it doesn't offer complete relief. Which is good, because he misses the way Greg looks at that moment, the sadness there, the desire to push on through because the grass would be brighter on the otherside, right? If he's stuck here, he's stuck here. What is it humans say? Worse things happen at sea?
He takes a breath, which is actually far shakier than he realised it would be, but there are those fingers still combing through his wings. Not combing now, caressing. It feels nice, it really does and it's very difficult to keep his eyes open- they want to slide closed like a contented cat's. Of course, the longer Greg does this, the more content Gabriel will get. Although perhaps content is the wrong word.]
I'm pretty sure it's you. Don't stop.
[The wing Greg is focused on at the moment looks so much better, not perfect but certainly less threadbare. They might even look... well, half-way decent, until you get up close. They feel so much better. It's as if they had been weighing him down but that has slowly started to lift and maybe...
You know, maybe Greg is right to hope. Things can change, right? Who knows what might happen. Maybe you get let off eternity in Hell after a few thousand years good behaviour. Maybe even less, if you know people who know people.
He shuffles closer. It's not easy, sat like this on the bed, but it doesn't matter. He can lean in and rest his head on Greg's shoulder, letting a little happy noise escape him. It's one of those moments where everything is okay, and existence seems easy. Which is why Gabriel has to interrupt it with more talking. ]
Can I ask you something? You don't have to ask, I just... want to know. What did you used to do, when you had days off? Back in the world?
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If Gabriel's telling him not to stop, he definitely won't. He'll work his way over the other wing, too, until he's probably literally touched every feather in Gabriel's wings at least briefly, and hovered over those bare patches where new feathers are just starting to emerge. They won't grow in overnight, of course, but they will in time. Greg is going to look after them, after all.
As Gabriel shuffles closer, Greg's arms will slide around him, and unsurprisingly his wings do the same. The white feathers are gentle against those newly preened darker ones, but they will stretch around and curl protectively around them, trying to pull them in close in a way that reminds Greg of that time not so long ago when Gabriel's wings stretched protectively around him. In a strange way, he almost wonders if he has any right to do all of this - he's not an angel, not really, right? He can probably be forgiven a bit of transgression in helping to heal what is broken, at least. Maybe he can't really be blamed for trying to shield those patched wings for as long as he can, regardless of what he is. Or isn't.
He lets his temple rest very lightly against Gabriel's cheek for a moment, a gesture that's affectionate rather than trying to lean on him. He does smile at the questions, amused as he actually thinks about it. It's probably not as exciting as Gabriel might have hoped, but he really had so little time off, generally. Sure, he'd manage a vacation now and then, but outside of that... ]
Usually? Laundry. Buying groceries. Cleaning up around the flat and working on the garden. Sometimes I'd even get out to a pub and manage to catch an entire game of rugby before my phone started going off.
[ 'Work' encompassed so much of his life, even more so after his last divorce. He didn't quite realise exactly how much so until he died, and suddenly he didn't have a job anymore. ]
That happened a lot, too. It's felt kind of strange, to be honest, that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing in so long.
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Besides, the more time he spends in Little Eden with Greg, the less time he's in the stifling heat of town, and he's pretty sure the heat and dryness of the air has what made his wings start to burn in the first place. And if Greg's going to look after them too, well... Gabriel really won't mind that at all.
Honestly, Greg is an angel. Gabriel would regret his "dead human with wings" comment if he knew how much Greg had taken it on board. He's just as deserving, possibly more deserving of the title than Gabriel is, at least if you take what they're doing presently into the equation. Greg is actively doing all those things humans believe angels do- protecting and safeguarding, loving and performing little miracles. Gabriel? He's eating candy and playing with dogs.
All that aside, Gabriel wants Greg to do this, he likes it when those gorgeous wings curl around him; he likes feeling safe and close to Greg, able to feel his breath across his skin. It's... it's good. There are better words, but Gabriel can't think of their English equivalents at that moment. He's too happy to have to think of words.
As Greg speaks, Gabriel finds himself smiling again, eyes closing.] That sounds pretty good. Pub and rugby, not the laundry. That sounds boring.
[Rugby. Gabriel liked rugby. No doubt it was the mix of well-built men in shorts and violence that appealed to him, but there wasn't anything quite like that in Hell. The nearest sport was more like American Football. But maybe they could get good enough reception in Little Eden to catch a game. He'd have to find out when Greg was out, and maybe that would be a nice surprise at some point.]
Got to tell you, I'm sort of glad no one is ringing you at all hours. That would cut into the time you're mine. They can have you for pre-agreed shifts only.
[And that's when Gabriel shifts to kiss the nearest bit of Greg his hand, which happens to be the edge of his jaw.]
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If Greg's fond, gentle attention to them wasn't enough on its' own, there are always the very visible new feathers starting to form that can remind him of this even when Greg isn't around. It will definitely make him happy if Gabriel catches onto his sense of hope, even if he would have a hard time explaining exactly how he can hold onto it so tightly. Still.
It's entirely possible that one of these days the 'dead human with wings' thing will come up again, because Greg really has taken in on board in a very major way. Not at all just because of Gabriel, though he probably won't admit that he took it more to heart from Gabriel than anyone else. It's much larger than just that, though. It's not actually an uncommon sentiment. Greg definitely didn't down here looking for a sense of camaraderie, of course, but even in Heaven he had... mixed feelings about being there. He doesn't feel like he's one of them, but he doesn't belong here, either. He can't blame anyone in general for pointing out the obvious.
At least in moments like this, he doesn't worry about what he is, or where he fits into the grand scheme of things. It's just the two of them, wings curled in together and bodies close, and it doesn't matter who they are, or where they are. Not really. ]
It was boring, but it had to be done.
[ Being human was all about doing those little boring day to day things, many of which he still goes through these days even if he doesn't really have to anymore. His routine was a bit different back when he was married, but he had gotten used to living the single life long before he actually died.
Getting into a sport of any sort that isn't a thinly disguised bloodbath would probably be something Greg would like. He's been hesitant to even look into such things, given those tendencies, but it's possible that there are such things out there. The idea of being able to catch up with a game from the living world hasn't occurred to him at all. ]
I'm still yours even when I'm stuck at work. [ He just smiles at the rest of it. He's sure that one day there will be at least some people that will be ringing him at all hours again. He knows what the point was, though, and admittedly work tends to cut into enough of their time together as it is.
Not right now, though. Right now there's nothing to stop him from shifting at that kiss so that he can tilt his head to catch Gabriel's lips in a proper kiss - it doesn't even start particularly slow, there's too much emotion and passion that have been building up over the past several minutes, lurking just beneath the surface up until this point. ]
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He should never have listened to what Gabriel said then. It was just a bitter remark in passing, made before they knew each other. Gabriel didn't like Little Eden, the concept still doesn't sit well with him, and it was a cruel thing to say to a man who had done nothing to him and only showed him kindness and understanding. It will clearly be one of those things that Gabriel always regrets saying.
Luckily for Gabriel those thoughts only spring up in the middle of the night in the darkness when he doesn't sleep. It's just a pity he rarely sleeps. Still, Greg provides a wonderful distraction right now. In fact, Greg is always a perfect distraction from everything that's horrible. Here everything is perfect, or as near to perfect as it can ever be. ]
Of course. The sight of you shirtless would have been too distracting for everyone else.
[ That's why Gabriel would never have been a good human. Washing up, laundry, hoovering? No thank you. Those things sort themselves out- normally because he wills it so, or because some poor sap has already done it. At least he cleans up after himself when he makes breakfast, and when dirty clothes get taken off in Greg's house they end up clean and pressed and back in Greg's closet by morning? He does try to earn his keep in that regard.
Rugby isn't even thinly disguised. Well, some of it isn't. Gabriel's always preferred League rugby, because there's nothing in the rules about biting the opposite team, but he'll watch Union where biting is banned if Greg prefers.]
Hmm, but there I have to share you. There's paperwork and... bad guys and distractions.
[Distractions from things like this, the touch of lips suddenly hot and needy, like a switch had been flicked on. Gabriel's moving, wings shuddering as they open further, to balance them as he moves to better to lean in and kiss Greg back properly, his hands moving over Greg's bare skin. It's really not fair, for Greg to still be naked and Gabriel to be fully dressed. But that can be fixed later, right now there's just the kiss and the desire to be as close to Greg as he can be.]
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Wet feathers are almost unbearably heavy, but the water is fairly essential when it comes to washing off all the dirt that tends to collect on them, and it helps keep them from getting too dried out. Greg has gotten a lot of practice at dealing with his own so far, so he's a little more confident about extending that care to Gabriel's, too. Gabriel has seen him more than once, after all, carefully preening through his feathers after a shower, drying and aligning them properly again, while looking for any loose ones that need to come out. Just smoothing them out regularly seems to do a lot toward keeping them in good shape.
Now he wonders a bit if there's something more to do with it, something to do with that mostly untapped and unrefined power of it. It's a thought. But the point is, if he can do it with his own, he can do it with Gabriel's, too, and that makes him... actually rather happy.
There is definitely a lot to Little Eden that doesn't make sense, and plenty of reasons for people to hate it, along with everyone who lives in it. Greg knew that before he'd even stepped foot in Little Hades. It will take some convincing, one of these days, to get Greg to truly accept the fact that him having wings and strange angelic powers isn't just some kind of joke, or at the very least a severe overestimation of who and what he is.
But that will be a conversation for another time. Later on they can talk about rugby, too, but now here is kissing, and Gabriel's hands roaming over his chest in a very distracting sort of way. He's not too fussed about all of Gabriel's clothes, not when he's leaning forward into Gabriel's touch and his mouth. The hand that's not preoccupied with helping to prop him up on the bed is sliding into Gabriel's hair, tangling tightly there and pulling him that much closer into the kiss.
It's inevitable that one day he'll lose this intense, sudden edge of want, and it will mellow out somewhat, he's sure. That's just how these things tend to work out. Eventually. He's starting to wonder how long that's going to be, though, considering that he feels just as eager for Gabriel's touch, and all those noises he makes, as he did the first time. ]
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Gabriel has always enjoyed watching Greg groom his wings. He loves anything to do with them, which is why he'll lay there on the bed and watch, completely absorbed. But his own wings are different. He's tried to keep them tidy- when he was alive he did it (ha ha) religiously, but since dying, it had become a chore he felt no drive to do. With Greg around, he's certainly going to get the encouragement to do it more, or at least, he's got someone to do it for him. Which is even more enjoyable.
Of course, they're still acting like teenagers, and if Greg is going to make these wing-grooming sessions more regular, they'll have to try and fit that into all the other sex they're having. It's not an appalling prospect. It's a very intimate thing, almost more so than sex, and Gabriel feels like somehow now he's closer to Greg than he was before, that some secret between them was shared, maybe. Maybe it's because Gabriel trusted him, and Greg didn't betray that trust. Maybe it's something simpler than that, the fact that his wings feel so much better, so much lighter, and now he has no excuse to hide them. Which means he can brush them up against Greg's wings whenever he wants, like now. Who can blame him, when it feels so good he just has to feel Greg's soft feathers against his? Even the static that jumps between them feels gentler.
He makes another happy sound when Greg's fingers curl into his hair, the kiss deepening a little more before someone is seriously going to need to stop for air. Breaking apart just means Gabriel can catch Greg's lower lip gently with his teeth.]
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It is a very intimate thing. If it hadn't been obvious enough in Gabriel's initial reluctance to let it happen - even though they've been rather intimate already - it definitely felt that way as he gently worked his way through those feathers so carefully. It was an exchange of trust that Greg was entirely willing to reciprocate, and it's obvious that it's lifted at least a little of that weight off of Gabriel's shoulders.
That seems fair, given that he's done so much to do the same for Greg. He really can't say how much it means to him that Gabriel has been here for him every day after they're both free from work. Any time he starts to feel worn down by all of it, Gabriel is there, ready with warm embraces and kisses and unwavering faith in his ability. In him, in general.
He hopes that at least some of that comes across in the warmth of that kiss, if not in the flowers left where Gabriel will find them after work, or in the fact that Greg keeps his kitchen stocked with a somewhat ridiculous amount of sugar nowadays.
Of course his mind is already turning toward far less... chaste, thoughts, clearly, especially when Gabriel's teeth catch onto his lip like that. His fingers are still twined tightly in Gabriel's hair as he tilts his head to trail kisses and light, teasing nips along the length of Gabriel's jaw, working steadily toward his neck. He doesn't stop to speak, he just murmurs quietly against Gabriel's skin. ]
You might want to do something with Princess...
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It is an intimate thing, and yes, Gabriel had felt more than a little concerned about opening this up to Greg. But for all the time they've spent together, clothed and unclothed, Greg has put a lot of trust in him from the very beginning. Not many people do, and Gabriel wouldn't ordinarily blame them for that. Being here when Greg comes home, that's... well, that a selfish thing. He likes Greg, he likes the respect and the affection. Oh sure, other people respect the idea of him, of an angelic thing that can answer prayers, but that isn't actually him. Being with Greg is... a little ego boost, every smile and every touch and every single kiss. The fact Greg doesn't see it as Gabriel being selfish is something of a character flaw.
But it doesn't mean Gabriel doesn't like him. Really, really like him. It just means he knows he's getting more out of it than Greg is.
Which is when Greg's mouth moves down the sensitive line of Gabriel's throat. It really is very sensitive, and it makes him whimper softly, reaching out to curl his fingers in Greg's wings to steady himself as he tips his head to give Greg more room. It's hard to believe that a human form has so many of those little spots that react so strongly. He's really going to have to explore more of Greg's one of these days. Hopefully soon.
And then the lips part against his neck and the words, although muffled, are clear enough. Gabriel opens his eyes, glancing over to where the little dog sits, thankfully still playing with her new toy and not watching them. He groans, but this time because he really doesn't want to move, and disentangles himself from Greg. ]
Come on, this is grown-up time.
[So saying, the little puppy is scooped up and gently deposited outside. She won't mind being shut out, not for a while, not when she has things to play with.
And then he's on his way back, pulling off his shirt.]
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He'll let Gabriel disentangle himself, wings shuffling out of the way so that he can put the puppy out. She does, indeed, have plenty of toys at this point, and can keep herself entertained well enough for a while. She'd definitely not starved for attention, given that she generally spends most of the day with Gabriel, and sees quite a lot of Greg in the evenings.
While Gabriel does that, Greg is settling himself back closer toward the edge of the bed. He's watching intently as Gabriel turns and strips off his shirt, a somewhat pleased smile tugging at his lips as he leans forward slightly, his arms at his sides. There's an unspoken invitation there for Gabriel to settle in his lap, one way or another. The towel has been casually tossed aside at this point.
It's a very subtle thing, but he still feels a little bit shy about sitting here, completely naked like this. It's one thing to be at least partially covered by a sheet, or a towel, or actively tangled with Gabriel, and another to be naked and the center of attention with no distractions. It's not bad, he's just still getting used to it again. ]
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The shirt is dropped on the floor unceremoniously, followed by the t-shirt that Gabriel habitually wears underneath (no one who knows the Winchesters ever wears just one layer, even in Hell). He wriggles out of the rest of his clothes, and then looks up to meet Greg's eyes watching him. If Greg feel like he's the centre of attention, he should try being Gabriel in that moment.
But Gabriel's confidence is a little more solid, and he grins wickedly as he looks Greg over. There is nothing at all Greg should be concerned about. He's gorgeous, even when it's obvious he feels a little shy. It's terribly endearing.
And it's why Gabriel clears the distance between them and does as he's invited, knees in the mattress either side of Greg's legs as he settles there, leaning in to kiss Greg gently.]
I think you forget how handsome you are.
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He occasionally wonders about some of the subtler implications, especially of the angelic sort, but he has a lot on his mind these days without miring himself in such things. There's are so many more immediate concerns to focus on, and those subtle things are usually of a sort that fall into place on their own in time.
As Gabriel settles onto his lap Greg slides his arms around Gabriel's waist, pulling him in close, unhesitating and even eager for even that short distance between them to be completely closed. The kiss, too, he leans into quite willingly, something like amusement curving his lips slightly at the fact that he has to tilt his head back and stretch up to kiss Gabriel when they're positioned like this. ]
You do know that you're horribly biased when it comes to me, right?
[ It's all gentle teasing. He does think that Gabriel's opinion of him is far higher than he deserves, though it's difficult, if not impossible, to convince Gabriel of that. He's just a human, doing the best that he can, in Hell, of all places. Gabriel clearly doesn't just admire him for what he does, he thinks that Greg is something special, and he just doesn't see it, himself. ]
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Gabriel doesn't often think about why people click. It's normally obvious to some degree. In this case though he isn't concerned with the why's and how's. He just cares that this feels right and good and they continue feeling that way.]
Am I? Is it a problem?
[Sorry Greg someone has to be biased in your favour. You certainly aren't and that's just not right. You're deserving of much more credit than you give yourself even if you aren't perfect. Who is? Apart from Gabriel obviously.
You aren't ever going to convince Gabriel otherwise on his point so you might as well relax into the lazy warm kisses you're going to get. They're slow and easily passionate, they couldn't be anything but with Gabriel pressed so tightly to Greg and in his lap. His fingers trace down Greg's back over his muscles, dancing over then rather than kneading or rubbing. He just likes to touch have sometimes, to map everything out beneath his hands.]
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I suppose it's not.
[ Things are much different down here. He's used to being disliked, hated, and generally unwelcome - this was the kind of day where that was made abundantly clear - and in that sea of unpleasant reactions and, at best, grudging acceptance, Gabriel is a breath of fresh air. He might not be able to see himself like that, but that sort of faith means a lot to him.
He is, actually, going to relax into those slow, sensual kisses that he just can't seem to get enough of lately, his own fingers trailing down Gabriel's back until settling lightly on his hips, not quite gripping yet. The light touches along his own back are nice, despite the lingering soreness in some spots. There's a long trail of skin that's still a bit pink along his left side, where he first hit the ground after his tumble out of the window.
He'd much rather take bruises on his back as opposed to his wings, though. Gabriel's taken care of the damage done to those, so now there's really only a couple of missing, broken feathers there. ]
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Good. I like being biased when it comes to you.
[When Greg relaxes, Gabriel can feel it. After all, pressed this close and with arms wrapped around him, it's impossible not to know that some of that tension is ebbing away. He likes these kisses, the soft pleased noises he makes should make that clear, and maybe distract Greg a little more from those tender areas. Gabriel is trying not to let his hands stray down to where Greg still hurts, but focusing on his shoulders.
He could put his fingers back through Greg's wings of course, but he knows his own are still very sensitive, and while he knows where this is going to end up, he's not going to rush these kisses. Now when he's actually got to tip his head down to kiss Greg, which always gives him a strange sort of thrill.
Which is one reason he can't help but squirm a little bit in Greg's lap.]