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For this meme.
Title: Shapeshifting Hugs
Fandom: SPN/Norse Myth
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel/Loki
Summary: Sam and Loki coax a sulking archangel
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Hugging the Midgardsormer
Fandom: SPN/Norse Myth
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel&Jormungandr, Gabriel/Loki
Summary: Jor doesn't get hugged very often
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Shapeshifting Hugs
Fandom: SPN/Norse Myth
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel/Loki
Summary: Sam and Loki coax a sulking archangel
Disclaimer: Not mine
Shapeshifting Hugs
The archangel sat curled into a defensive ball, arms wrapped determinedly around his knees, face resolutely turned to look out over the yard, and some shadow at his back suggesting uncounted wings pulled close against him and shading him from view. He didn't look at either of them, mobile mouth turned crookedly downwards, and only curled further into himself with every vague motion they made.
Sam stared at him in dismay, shuffling vaguely on his feet, and casting sidelong glances at the surly god beside him. Loki, narrow-faced and ginger today (mostly just for a change, Sam thought), had his arms crossed belligerently over his chest, and his face set in a determined scowl. And every passing moment, as Gabriel drooped ever further, and Sam gazed at him ever more pleadingly, the scowl carved itself that little deeper, until Sam began to fear that it would be permanently engraved on his face, and then none of them would have any peace again.
Sam, to be perfectly honest, had no idea what to do. Gabriel wasn't listening to a word anyone said, in fact flinching gently every time someone opened their mouth, and Loki ... Well. Sam had seen enough to know that one did not successfully argue with an angry god who believed himself in the right. Not even when the god in question had made himself, for all intents and purposes, yours.
Just when he was about to give up hope, though, just when he about to move, whether to Gabriel, in a futile attempt to ... something ... or out of the room altogether, to go find Bobby and ask how the hell you knocked sense into gods and/or archangels ... Just as Sam was about to move, Loki beat him to it. The god dropped his arms, and, more shockingly, his scowl, flowing forwards from his place at Sam's side, a fluid, liquid step towards Gabriel's perch. The archangel twitched, curling into himself, and Sam opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Loki ... changed. Between one step and the next, so rapidly Sam saw nothing save a vague suggestion of collapsing limbs, and then ...
Sam blinked, mouth open, as what looked for all the world like an otter scampered up to Gabriel's side, and nosed the archangel gently in the ribs. Blinked, and met Gabriel's rather stunned eyes as Loki wormed his head into the gap between ribs and thigh, and basically squirmed his way into the baffled archangel's arms, only grunting in satisfaction when Gabriel had abandoned his defensive curl and wrapped his arms around the wriggling body. Loki rumbled happily at the impromptu hug, and nosed apologetically at Gabriel's chin, while the archangel looked down at him rather helplessly, and Sam blinked at the pair of them in bewilderment.
"... Loki?" Gabriel asked at last, softly. It was the first thing he'd said in over an hour. Loki huffed at him, refusing, at least for now, to apologise out loud, before the god looked imperiously over at Sam. Who looked blankly back.
"Well?" the god asked, rather waspishly, and to this day, Sam had no idea how he did that, considering he was currently an otter, and he was fairly sure vocal cords didn't work that way, but ... "Come and pick him up! All that brawn has to come in handy some time."
Sam blinked, and opened his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been planning to say, but then, it perhaps didn't matter. Because before he could say it, Gabriel looked up, a quick flicker at Sam, and there was still a little of that protective curl to his shoulders, and a shuttering in those eyes behind the cocky grin, and well, Gabriel was fairly small, and Loki was an otter and not so big, and ... Well, why not?
Sam shook his head, a vague grin for the sheer absurdity that apparently was his life now, and strode across the room to scoop a softening archangel and a shapeshifting god into his arms. Gabriel blinked at him in shock, possibly not having thought he'd actually do it, and Loki scrabbled about between their chests, a prickle of claws at his belly, a lithe, sinuous ripple between them, and Sam couldn't help but grin. Looking down at them, at the confusion and vague wonder in Gabriel's eyes, and the fond, smug smile on Loki's blunt, otter's face, Sam hugged the pair of them close to his chest, and couldn't help but grin.
The archangel sat curled into a defensive ball, arms wrapped determinedly around his knees, face resolutely turned to look out over the yard, and some shadow at his back suggesting uncounted wings pulled close against him and shading him from view. He didn't look at either of them, mobile mouth turned crookedly downwards, and only curled further into himself with every vague motion they made.
Sam stared at him in dismay, shuffling vaguely on his feet, and casting sidelong glances at the surly god beside him. Loki, narrow-faced and ginger today (mostly just for a change, Sam thought), had his arms crossed belligerently over his chest, and his face set in a determined scowl. And every passing moment, as Gabriel drooped ever further, and Sam gazed at him ever more pleadingly, the scowl carved itself that little deeper, until Sam began to fear that it would be permanently engraved on his face, and then none of them would have any peace again.
Sam, to be perfectly honest, had no idea what to do. Gabriel wasn't listening to a word anyone said, in fact flinching gently every time someone opened their mouth, and Loki ... Well. Sam had seen enough to know that one did not successfully argue with an angry god who believed himself in the right. Not even when the god in question had made himself, for all intents and purposes, yours.
Just when he was about to give up hope, though, just when he about to move, whether to Gabriel, in a futile attempt to ... something ... or out of the room altogether, to go find Bobby and ask how the hell you knocked sense into gods and/or archangels ... Just as Sam was about to move, Loki beat him to it. The god dropped his arms, and, more shockingly, his scowl, flowing forwards from his place at Sam's side, a fluid, liquid step towards Gabriel's perch. The archangel twitched, curling into himself, and Sam opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Loki ... changed. Between one step and the next, so rapidly Sam saw nothing save a vague suggestion of collapsing limbs, and then ...
Sam blinked, mouth open, as what looked for all the world like an otter scampered up to Gabriel's side, and nosed the archangel gently in the ribs. Blinked, and met Gabriel's rather stunned eyes as Loki wormed his head into the gap between ribs and thigh, and basically squirmed his way into the baffled archangel's arms, only grunting in satisfaction when Gabriel had abandoned his defensive curl and wrapped his arms around the wriggling body. Loki rumbled happily at the impromptu hug, and nosed apologetically at Gabriel's chin, while the archangel looked down at him rather helplessly, and Sam blinked at the pair of them in bewilderment.
"... Loki?" Gabriel asked at last, softly. It was the first thing he'd said in over an hour. Loki huffed at him, refusing, at least for now, to apologise out loud, before the god looked imperiously over at Sam. Who looked blankly back.
"Well?" the god asked, rather waspishly, and to this day, Sam had no idea how he did that, considering he was currently an otter, and he was fairly sure vocal cords didn't work that way, but ... "Come and pick him up! All that brawn has to come in handy some time."
Sam blinked, and opened his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been planning to say, but then, it perhaps didn't matter. Because before he could say it, Gabriel looked up, a quick flicker at Sam, and there was still a little of that protective curl to his shoulders, and a shuttering in those eyes behind the cocky grin, and well, Gabriel was fairly small, and Loki was an otter and not so big, and ... Well, why not?
Sam shook his head, a vague grin for the sheer absurdity that apparently was his life now, and strode across the room to scoop a softening archangel and a shapeshifting god into his arms. Gabriel blinked at him in shock, possibly not having thought he'd actually do it, and Loki scrabbled about between their chests, a prickle of claws at his belly, a lithe, sinuous ripple between them, and Sam couldn't help but grin. Looking down at them, at the confusion and vague wonder in Gabriel's eyes, and the fond, smug smile on Loki's blunt, otter's face, Sam hugged the pair of them close to his chest, and couldn't help but grin.
Title: Hugging the Midgardsormer
Fandom: SPN/Norse Myth
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel&Jormungandr, Gabriel/Loki
Summary: Jor doesn't get hugged very often
Disclaimer: Not mine
Hugging the Midgardsormen
Jormungandr did not get hugged a lot. Not in his own form, anyway. With the best will in the world, for all the steadfast loyalty and ingenuity of his family, there were certain ... technical difficulties to overcome. And even Loki's shapeshifting ability had its limits. So, for that matter, did the planet, and a creature of a size to properly hug Jor, on top of the strain of Jor himself, might be asking a bit much of the seabed.
Jor was, to put it very bluntly, vast. A truly monstrous form, black and glistening, rearing above the surface of the ocean. Smiling tiredly up at Gabriel and his father, resigned to whatever small touches they might give him, the fragile pressure of arms against his snout, the sensation of a hand pressed with god's or archangel's strength against thick, impenetrable hide. Jor was vast.
But so, in a different way, was Gabriel. An archangel, a pillar of light and glory and force that need not touch the world unless he willed it. He could boil the seas about them if he chose. He could give harming the Midgardsormen a good solid go, if he wanted.
He didn't. What he wanted was rather more simple.
Resting Loki gently atop his son's head, smiling faintly for his trickster god, a glimmer of mischief and pride and a softness only Loki could see, Gabriel reached out, through all the planes of being, and spread his wings. Tier on tier, the six-hundred wings of the Messenger, the vast, arched span of an archangel, Gabriel brought his wings up into the light, brought them to bear, if only lightly, on the world beneath. And then, smiling ruefully at the glimmer of wonder in vast, dark eyes, Gabriel flew close, and wrapped the World Serpent in the warmth of an archangel's wings. Reaching down, feathering them through the iron roar of the sea, reaching through the cold hollows at the bottom of the world, holding all of Jormungandr he could reach.
For the desperate wonder in Jor's eyes, and the fierce, savage gratitude in the face of his god, Gabriel brought all the power of an archangel to bear, and wrapped the Midgardsormen in a vast and gentle hug.
Jormungandr did not get hugged a lot. Not in his own form, anyway. With the best will in the world, for all the steadfast loyalty and ingenuity of his family, there were certain ... technical difficulties to overcome. And even Loki's shapeshifting ability had its limits. So, for that matter, did the planet, and a creature of a size to properly hug Jor, on top of the strain of Jor himself, might be asking a bit much of the seabed.
Jor was, to put it very bluntly, vast. A truly monstrous form, black and glistening, rearing above the surface of the ocean. Smiling tiredly up at Gabriel and his father, resigned to whatever small touches they might give him, the fragile pressure of arms against his snout, the sensation of a hand pressed with god's or archangel's strength against thick, impenetrable hide. Jor was vast.
But so, in a different way, was Gabriel. An archangel, a pillar of light and glory and force that need not touch the world unless he willed it. He could boil the seas about them if he chose. He could give harming the Midgardsormen a good solid go, if he wanted.
He didn't. What he wanted was rather more simple.
Resting Loki gently atop his son's head, smiling faintly for his trickster god, a glimmer of mischief and pride and a softness only Loki could see, Gabriel reached out, through all the planes of being, and spread his wings. Tier on tier, the six-hundred wings of the Messenger, the vast, arched span of an archangel, Gabriel brought his wings up into the light, brought them to bear, if only lightly, on the world beneath. And then, smiling ruefully at the glimmer of wonder in vast, dark eyes, Gabriel flew close, and wrapped the World Serpent in the warmth of an archangel's wings. Reaching down, feathering them through the iron roar of the sea, reaching through the cold hollows at the bottom of the world, holding all of Jormungandr he could reach.
For the desperate wonder in Jor's eyes, and the fierce, savage gratitude in the face of his god, Gabriel brought all the power of an archangel to bear, and wrapped the Midgardsormen in a vast and gentle hug.
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