twentysomething

Title: And Only You Could Get Me Out

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Lucifer/Sam/Gabriel, background Dean/Cas (... WHAT OKAY)

Summary: "Gabriel says he does it to look like a douche, but Lucifer just smiles and tugs at the cuffs of his oxford shirt, smoothing a hand across his sweater vest. Sam thinks he looks a little like an English professor- although, none of his professors at Stanford had looked like Lucifer. Sam likes it."

Length: 2600 wordsish

Warning: Norman Rockwell. Filth. (The two are moderately unrelated.) Something that rhymes with- well, uh, is DP. LOOK, SHARING IS CARING.

Notes: So, spacefragments drew this freaking tremendous piece of art based off a prompt by meewunk- it has to be seen to be believed for it's amazingness. And I was like, "LOL merelyn I WANT TO WRITE THIS" ... And lo, I did. Look, the apron, man. (Title from Marc Broussard's "Save Me," which is not only a change from pop music, but also a great song.)



Lucifer has taken up pipe smoking.

Well, Sam means that sort of loosely- because as far as he can tell, there's actually never anything in it- he just sort of puts the stem in his mouth and steals the finance section from Gabriel. Because even though smoke curls softly out of it, when Lucifer kisses him, strangely sweet and soft- there's no hint of tobacco on his tongue.

Gabriel says he does it to look like a douche, but Lucifer just smiles and tugs at the cuffs of his oxford shirt, smoothing a hand across his sweater vest. Sam thinks he looks a little like an English professor- although, none of his professors at Stanford had looked like Lucifer. Sam likes it.

Gabriel, not to be out done in anything, is actually wearing a tie- loose against his neck, tucked carelessly under his vest. Sam wonders, absently, if they would normally dress themselves like this, or whether they've done some mental prowling and settled into Sam's- totally innocent- academia kink.

Although... He did pick out Lucifer's sweater vest.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sideboard and thinks he looks more or less the same- his head is too big and his hair is too long- and, objectively, his shirt is probably ugly. But he looks happy, too, and that's a change he doesn't mind so much. He's even wearing the stupid apron Dean gave him. It's a good thing he likes pink and is super secure in his masculinity- mostly because you have to be pretty secure in your masculinity to carry on a homosexual polyamorous relationship with an archangel and the devil. His bare feet are warm against the wooden floorboards- and okay, his hands are getting pretty hot. He probably shouldn't have stopped for some introspection while carrying a turkey.

Dean is supposed to haul Cas out of their library at some point and come over for dinner- and he'd better hurry, because everything smells really freaking great and Sam's been keeping himself from snacking all day.

Sam had woken up that morning and decided to cook a turkey. He never had before and Sam is tired of not doing normal things- of not having normal experiences- stuff like knowing how to exercise a demon and not how to cook a turkey. And he had privately thought it would be good practice for Thanksgiving, too. So he'd gone to an actual butcher and been glad they lived in a small town for reasons other than the big yard and no close neighbors, because where the hell else was he going to get a turkey in September?

Well, neighbors they didn't want, Sam amends, as he hears the back door catching and rattling before finally opening. Dean has been over a thousand times and still can't make the kitchen door open the first time.

"Smells good, Sammy," Dean calls, trooping in to the dining room, Cas at his elbow like a shadow.

Their tablescape looks like Norman Rockwell puked on it and the early fall sunshine keeps the room bright, even though it's nearly 7. Sam makes Gabriel go into the kitchen for the rolls- which Sam always forgets- and he grumbles, but comes back with a faint smile- and the rolls. The smile suggests he snuck a bite or two out of the pie cooling on the counter.

They don't say grace- it would be strange and uncomfortable in so many ways, but Cas thanks him for cooking, which leads to a round of similar mumbled thanks from the rest of the table. Lucifer pours, faintly fruity red wine and they take their time- even if Dean eating slowly is against natural law. But they linger over the meal, laughing at Gabriel's story about a ritual sacrifice gone wrong where rather than the town virgin, they brought the town whore and Sam makes coffee when it gets dark. One, to combat the tryptophan, and two, because he finds it comforting, like so many diners across the country and other long, companionable nights. Dean and Gabriel fight over the pie- which is slightly less pecan-ish in one spot, just as Sam suspected.

The nights are just cold enough that Sam shivers slightly when the kitchen door whuffs shut behind Dean and Cas- the hint of true fall and winter to come in the bite of the wind in the dark. Gabriel is close against his back after a moment, though, more than warm enough to compensate for the poor protection of his shirt and jeans.

"You should come to bed," Gabriel says simply, slipping a hand between the layers of Sam's clothing, tracing carefully on the skin over his hip bone, just firmly enough not to tickle.

"There are a lot of dishes," Sam points out, but it's not really a protest, if he's honest with himself.

"They'll still be there," Gabriel tugs at one of Sam's empty belt loops. "Come on." Sam goes, willingly enough, content to be led up the stairs under Gabriel's guiding hands. When they get to the bedroom, Lucifer is sitting, still fully dressed, all the way down to his sensible navy socks, feet stretched out in front of him on the bed.

"I was waiting," Lucifer says, the faintest edge of impatience in his voice.

"He's a little slow," Gabriel teases, so Sam bends down and kisses him, pecan pie and home, still faintly sticky and so, so warm. Gabriel makes a pleased noise against Sam's mouth and Sam can feel gentle, rough, warm hands sneaking around him from behind, already reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm at a disadvantage here," Sam mumbles, as Lucifer continues to divest him of his shirt and Gabriel reaches for the button of his fly. Gabriel just chuckles as he smoothly continues to lick his way into Sam's mouth. Sam can feel Lucifer's breath, hot and just a little damp against his neck- it's familiar- it's good.

"I would hate to think you're being treated unfairly, Sam. And you did cook dinner. So maybe we should speed this up for you." Lucifer muses. And just like that, he's naked, his shirt somewhere on the ground; his pants and boxers trapping his feet, gathered around his ankles.

Gabriel is running his fingers through the thick, coarse hair around the base of Sam's cock, reaching below to cradle his balls, to stroke a thumb along the underside of his dick. Sam's hips twitch of their own volition and he bites his lip when he hears the casual snick of a bottle opening, Lucifer is pressing a slick finger against his hole, slipping one in carefully. Sam doesn't know how he got here, but he needs it- he's not giving this up.

"You know, I think he likes it," Gabriel purrs against Sam's mouth, biting softly at Sam's lower lip. Lucifer makes an amused noise as Sam's brain shuts down as his body tries to buck forward into Gabriel's hand and greedily cant back onto Lucifer's hand, all at the same time.

"He deserves it," Lucifer agrees coolly. "He's very good to us." Sam makes a muffled broken noise, biting his lip to keep from crying out as Gabriel finally tightens his grip, sliding his palm over the head of Sam's cock, making it slippery and hot with precome. Lucifer pushes in another finger, going to town on Sam's neck, biting and sucking there like he's still hungry.

"Oh, just- oh," Sam tries. He barely dares to say "God" or "Jesus" at all anymore, let alone during sex, so his vocabulary is pretty limited- although neither Gabriel nor Lucifer have complained about it. Gabriel- oh- drops to his knees, taking a moment to make sure Sam is watching him, looking up at him through his lashes before taking Sam into his mouth.

"Yes, Gabriel," Lucifer breathes, losing some of his endless composure. Sam likes that this is the only thing that rattles him, that the only thing that can shake him is the press of their bodies together. Gabriel just hums his amused assent around Sam's dick and it's a good thing Lucifer is so tall, because Sam can just let his head loll back on to Lucifer's shoulder, lose himself in the feeling and trust Lucifer to hold him up.

Sam can feel Lucifer's pleased smile in the crook of his neck, shifting into a lazy scrape of teeth against the thin skin that makes Sam shake and curse, low unintelligible things. Lucifer stretches Sam slowly, methodically, but the even rhythm lets him know that each brush against his prostate is intentional, getting Sam ready for one- or both- of them to fuck him.

Gabriel has been around since the beginning- literally- and he's probably done a lot of sinful things with his tongue over the millennia. Sam thinks that Gabriel's doing all of them to his cock, right now. He wasn't kidding about being at a disadvantage, but it also makes him feel better about the easy, loose way he comes apart under their hands, the way he barely has a moment to press a hand against Gabriel's face to warn him before he's gone, come spilling into Gabriel's mouth as his body clenches and trembles, as Lucifer murmurs quiet promises into his shoulder.

"Mmm," Gabriel's hum is throaty and dark. Lucifer furrows his brows.

"Little brother," he protests, and that- that should not get Sam hot. But it does, and so does the way Gabriel just grins and stretches up to kiss Lucifer, open-mouthed and filthy, the way Sam can see Lucifer's tongue chasing down the taste of Sam's come in Gabriel's mouth.

"Thank you," Lucifer finally says, pressing one last, almost chaste kiss to Gabriel's shining mouth, bringing his hand up to rub the pad of his thumb over Gabriel's red, spit-slick lips. Gabriel just sighs rumbling agreement, but it's not loud enough to cover the way Sam whimpers, watching them.

Sam realizes, abruptly, that both Gabriel and Lucifer are fully dressed, which- after the flare of arousal from the delicious sensation of their clothes against his now sensitive bare skin- is just not acceptable.

"I really think you both should be naked," Sam complains and they both laugh at him a little- Gabriel, a bright, sharp bark, where Lucifer is a rough chuckle.

"I think that could be accomplished," Lucifer says, like he's conferring a favor as he lets Sam shuck them free of their clothes- pulling off Lucifer's vest, tugging on Gabriel's tie. Someone tumbles them back against the bed as soon as they're all naked- Sam's money is on Gabriel- the hot press of skin to skin, sensation from all angles driving Sam wild.

"Would you like to go first?" Lucifer offers, like he's talking about taking the first shower. Gabriel smiles and it's wicked, it's dirty.

"Oh, I think we could share, don't you?" Gabriel suggests and Sam thinks maybe he'll pass out. They've talked about it before- him taking both of them at once- but they've never done it. Lucifer stares at Gabriel for a moment, his eyes so dark with it, just the idea, before he looks at Sam, questioning.

Sam's really never been able to say no to either of them.

So he just nods weakly, watching Gabriel and Lucifer kiss fiercely over him, like there's a big neon sign above their heads that says, "Best Idea Ever."

"But first, I think this calls for a little more thought," Gabriel adds. It's pretty clear what he means from the way Sam can feel a teasing finger slip inside him- shorter, but thinner- Gabriel's fingers. Lucifer makes a noise like he really, really approves, before he can feel a second finger- longer and thicker. Sam would really like to watch, but he thinks that all the bones in his body have disappeared somewhere and he can't lift his head far enough to manage it. He's not sure how long they lie there- three fingers, then four, the curious push of an extra finger from who-knows-where, stretching him open. The slow burn and pleasure of it all leaves Sam feeling like he's drunk, hazy and loose-limbed.

And then all the fingers are gone and oh- oh fuck, they're going to do this. Sam cranes his head up, just long enough to see Lucifer and Gabriel holding some sort of strange silent conference, like they're trying to figure out how to do this, too.

"For- will one of you just make a decision?" Sam demands, because he feels empty and raw and broken in to, and really, something needs to happen yesterday. Lucifer huffs a little laugh, like Sam's impatience delights him and Gabriel shrugs, but he's grinning too.

"Well, then," Lucifer says, sliding up to press himself against Sam's back, one long line of heat and want. Gabriel crawls up the mattress, mirroring Lucifer.

"Since we can't deny you anything," Gabriel finishes. Lucifer slips his cock into Sam's ass, easy as anything. Sam's eyes nearly roll back in his head as Lucifer buries himself to the hilt and there's not even a hint of discomfort- just a stretch, like standing up after sitting for a long time. Sam reaches a hand back to clutch at Lucifer's hip.

"Yes," Sam hisses, because this is already so good and it's just going to get better. Gabriel kisses him, hard and wet, smirking against Sam's mouth.

"Hold on," Gabriel mutters, putting a hand over Sam's to draw both his and Lucifer's hips toward him. This is harder- Sam can feel the ache behind this and he strongly suspects that he's going to make them bring him breakfast in bed tomorrow- because if he can still walk then, they've don't something wrong. But Gabriel's fingers are slick and his cock is slippery with lube and the pearly hint of precome and- and-

Sam feels full, like he's going to burst from sensation, like he's going to explode. He can feel his cock leaking steadily from where it's trapped between his and Gabriel's stomachs, but it's so far away from being important, because they're both inside him, hands greedily pulling each other closer until Sam feels like he's in the middle of a fire, all burning skin and mindless heat.

And then they start moving.

Sam thinks that he's losing his mind. The pace is slow- languorous, even- but just the heavy drag and push of their bodies has Sam gasping, scrabbling for anything he can hold on to, barely noticing the way Lucifer and Gabriel are kissing over his shoulder.

"Sam," Lucifer insists, his hand clutching at Sam and Gabriel's, still entwined over his own hip, his thrusts turning erratic and sharp.

"Just, yes, please, yes, yes, yes," Sam moans. Gabriel licks his own wet, bruising kiss onto Sam's neck.

"Come on, come on," Gabriel commands. Sam has no idea which one of them he's talking to, but he's helpless to stop himself from coming again, the sticky wetness between them proof of that. Lucifer's hand spasms over theirs, his hips twitching twice before stilling completely.

"Gabriel," Sam begs. Gabriel shuts his eyes and shakes apart, burying himself deep in Sam one last time before coming.

Lucifer is the first to stir, gently pulling out, tugging Sam back against him until Gabriel's cock slips free from his body too. Sam gasps at the sudden emptiness.

"Shh, shh," Gabriel mumbles, eyes still closed, reaching out to drape himself loosely over Sam, bringing his hands up to brush the sweaty hair back from Sam's face. Lucifer makes a noise of deep, abiding agreement, dragging them closer to him, like he can wrap them both up, envelop them.

They're going to be a terrible mess in the morning- and they'll have to do laundry again, but-

Sam thinks maybe tomorrow he'll try to teach them how to make pancakes.