Ciao, people. Welcome to the first chapter of New York Mistake. Enjoy some crossover. This is set in some weird universe where all of the awesome characters we love are still alive. Where it fits in canon, I dunno.

SOTD is Fashionably Late, as per the title, by Falling in Reverse.

Sam. Couldn't. Take. It.

There were no hunts to distract him. No Dean demanding for pie runs since Cas did his best to bake them for him (not mojo, oh no, bake). Not a peep from Charlie about any larping events. Nothing from Kevin about a new topic of study.

With nothing to do, all of his thoughts got pinged to Gabriel. Normally that wouldn't such a bad thing, but lately the archangel had gotten affectionate and domestic. Sam loved both of those traits dearly, and Gabe definitely used them endearingly, but he was a Winchester. That meant burying any and all emotions deep inside him under metaphorical locks, safes, and jails.

He was honestly considering drinking himself silly to kill time, but he was much too afraid of what his brother would convince him to do. Or what he'd do to a certain golden haired shortstack of his own intoxicated volition.

Running a hand over his face, he stood up from where he'd been sprawled across the couch in the bunker's library. He made his way over to the table, picking up his phone and pressing Bobby's speed dial.

It didn't take long for him to answer with a gruff, "Whatcha needing, boy?"

Sam cracked a small smile. "I need a case."

***

See, everything could have been avoided if Sam would have just owned up to his feelings. At least, that's what Gabe will throw back in his face several years from now.

He was in the passenger seat, eyes staring out at the passing landscape. Dean had one hand firm on the wheel beside him, his posture casual and his fingers tapping along to Don't Fear the Reaper.

It was oddly quiet without Cas and Gabe. Normally the archangel would be annoying Dean and Castiel would be defending what was basically his husband. When Gabe got bored of that, he'd talked to Sam.

Their conversations were actually meaningful where as Gabe and Dean's were stuffed full of insults and swears. Gabriel would tell him stories about whatever Sam wanted. If the Winchester didn't know or didn't have a preference for that time, he'd get an earful of enthusiastically spoken imagery from times lost.

Sam often found himself wondering why Gabe was this nice to him. Most of him thought it was the archangel's way of redeeming himself from all the crap he'd put them through in the past. Dean begged to differ.

"So why did you demand that Bobby give us a case?" Dean breaks the silence, sparing a glance over at his brother. His eyebrow was raised at him inquisively.

Sam shrugs. "Couldn't take being in the bunker with nothing to do," he says smoothly. Liar.

The older of them just snorts. "You? Mr. I'm-Going-To-Read-Don't-Bug-Me?"

"Yes, me. Come up with a catchier insult next time."

Dean whistles. "Who pissed in your cereal this morning?" The grin he shot him melts into a grimace. "Please tell me that douche of an archangel didn't actually do that."

Not that it hadn't happened before. Worst part of it was that it had happened to Dean, and he hadn't even noticed.

"No, he didn't," Sam replies, sliding further down in the seat. He didn't need Dean knowing the truth of the matter. All he'd get is teasing and mocking.

Dean, knowing all of his tells for when something's up, widens his eyes. "Oh hell. This is about Gabriel, isn't it?"

"No." The younger sets his jawx indignant.

"It is!" Dean's face lit up and he laughs shortly. "You like the little asshole!"

Sam frowns at him, eyes narrowing. "What are you, two?"

"Hey, we're not mentioning my age. We're talking about your giant crush on an archangel." Dean flutters his eyelashes.

It takes everything in him not to make Dean pull over so he can throw a punch without getting them in a wreck.

"You're one to talk," the taller hunter shoots back. "You and Cas with your eye sex. Please."

Dean swirves a bit at that, choking on air. "We don't have eyesex," he argues vehemently. "You're just salty because you're in love with a dick."

"I mean..."

"Sammy, are you coming out of the closet to me?" Dean puts a hand on his chest. "I'm honored."

"I'm going to stab you." Dean had been making jokes about his sexuality for the past year now. It didn't bother him... usually.

They were so busy bickering that neither of them saw the guy running across the road until he was smacking the windshield. Dean yelps and slams on the breaks, tires squealing. Sam braces his arms on the sides, swearing.

When the car jolts to a full stop, the man rolls off. Both Winchesters scramble out to get a look and assess the damage. Dean was more worried about his car than he was about whoever the person was. His fingers ran across the hood, checking it over carefully while Sam attended to the guy.

The younger hunter hovered over him. He was covered in odd black tattoos that looked somewhat like sigils. His hair was black, his hands gripping a bow. A quiver was laying next to him, thrown off by the force of the impact.

Another man was sprinting down the road. "Alexander!" he calls.

Sam looks up with wide eyes. "Shit."

So.... first chapter? Potentially these will get longer, but I needed to end it there. I don't think it would have ever gotten published if I didn't stop it there.

Until next time. Send me what you wanna see, give me more music to listen to, leave me random comments, vote on this if you want.

Ciao, dudes.

~Gabe 😘