Castiel looked up from his coffee as Balthazar walked through the door and collapsed onto the sofa. “That bad?” he asked.
Balthazar lifted his head to look over the back of the sofa to where Castiel sat at the table. “You’re one to talk,” he said, eyeing Castiel’s cup. “Coffee at ten in the evening? Or do you have something more exciting in that cup?”
“Just coffee, but you know that I drink coffee at any time I please as a habit; I’ll let the deflection slide, however, if that’s what you want.”
Balthazar was silent for a moment;, then, “We broke up.”
“Oh,” was all Castiel said as he got up and walked towards the kitchen.
“Yeah…”
Castiel took some tea from the cabinet—Chamomile? No, Tuscan Sun—and put water on the stove.
“Are you making tea?”
“I am.” Cas bit his lip against a smirk, knowing what was coming.
“Did I just hear you pull a pot from below the counter?”
“Why, yes, you did.” Aaaannnnd…
“Castiel…” Balthazar’s tortured voice came from the couch. “There is a perfectly good kettle right there. It’s—it’s on the stove…”
Castiel smiled at him innocently but made sure to school his expression before walking over to the sofa, lifting Balthazar’s legs to sit down, and placing them back on his lap. “Are you okay?”
Balthazar glowered at him. Then, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling.
Castiel rested his arms across his friend’s shins. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, picking absently at the hem of Balthazar’s pants.
Balthazar ran a hand over his face. “I’m not exactly sure what to say. I broke up with her. I just…” He trailed off.
Castiel studied him. “What happened? I thought you liked Hannah…”
“I liked her well enough. I still do. But...not like she likes me, or more pertinently…not like she wants me to like her.” Balthazar swallowed. “We were at her flat. Everything was fine, but she kept going on about how much she loved me, how she couldn’t possibly see herself with anyone else and how she gets all these...butterflies, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, and I—I just…”
“That’s not how you feel about her.”
“Castiel, that’s not how I’ve ever felt about anyone. This whole…” He waved a hand in the air and propped up against the arm of the couch, “in love business...it’s complete bollocks. If you ask me, people’ve just seen too many blasted movies, got so hopped up on the rush of getting to know someone that they think that's it, that’s love, but it isn’t. Love is…” He glanced down at Castiel. “Love is choosing the person you get on with best, someone you’re able to be mates with and that you find attractive. All this ‘romance’ rubbish is just propaganda.”
Castiel looked at his friend. He thought about the warm feeling that grew inside him when they were together, the way his heart beat just a little faster every time Balthazar was close. “Yes...perhaps you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Furthermore,” continued Balthazar, “I certainly wouldn’t be able to know that about someone I’ve only just met. How am I supposed to look at someone who’s been in my life barely two months and not be able to see myself without them? It makes no sense!”
Castiel hummed. “Yes, that I definitely understand.”
He patted Balthazar’s legs to let him up, went back to the kitchen and poured Balthazar some tea, chuckling at Balthazar’s renewed grumblings about the pot and grabbing his own coffee and a book on his way back to the couch. Balthazar accepted the tea and lifted his legs to let Castiel settle back into his place on the couch beneath them.
They fell into a comfortable silence, Castiel sipping his coffee and reading his well-loved copy of The Song of Achilles while Balthazar drank his tea and watched him.
“Hey, Castiel?”
Castiel looked up from his book. “What is it?”
“I know this was a long time ago, and maybe I shouldn’t reopen old wounds, but...why did you and Dean end things? The two of you...seemed good together. The way he looked at you...and you seemed to really like him.”
Castiel sighed. “We were. I did.”
“Then, why?”
Castiel swallowed. “He thought I didn’t.”
Balthazar’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t what? Like him?”
“Yes.”
“But you did.”
“I did.”
“Was he that insecure?”
“He...thought that I wasn’t happy with him, because...well, because I didn’t want him the same way he wanted me.”
Balthazar blinked, and then understanding grew on his face. “What, you mean sex?”
“Yes.”
“But...I thought that the two of you…”
“We did.”
“Well, what, then? He wanted it more often?”
“No, it wasn’t that.”
“Then…?”
Castiel sighed and set his book aside. “I don’t...dislike sex. It’s fine. And I did enjoy the way it made him feel. I enjoyed taking care of him and watching him fall apart in my arms. But…while I do appreciate the closeness and intimacy of it, I don’t personally feel a need for those things to come in the form of sex, specifically. I usually do enjoy it, but I almost never want it. I don’t crave it. And...that bothered him. He thought that—because of that and that I wasn’t affected by him in the same way he was me—that I wasn’t attracted to him, that I wasn’t in love with him. He thought I was forcing myself to be with him.”
“But, you weren’t...forcing yourself, I mean.”
“No,” Castiel agreed, but had to work to shake the old anxiety that maybe he should have been forcing himself more, that maybe he should have tried harder for the man he loved. He swallowed. “I wasn’t, not in general and not when it came to sex. It took time, but I learned to be honest about when I didn’t want to, and he always respected it. And when we did make love, I liked bringing pleasure to him, seeing that side of him. I just didn’t get the same things out of it that he did, and I didn’t usually care for him to do things to me.”
“And he had a problem with that?”
“Well, in the beginning, it was a blow to his pride; he thought he just wasn’t good enough at doing what I liked. When I’d sufficiently assured him it wasn’t that, he thought it meant I didn’t feel the same way about him and that I was only appeasing him or that I didn’t want to hurt him by leaving. He thought it meant we were broken.” Castiel sighed. “It turned out...it was just me.”
Balthazar was suddenly crawling to Castiel’s end of the sofa, taking his face in his hands. “You are not broken, Castiel, and you did nothing wrong.”
Castiel rolled his eyes and tried to pull away.
“No.” Balthazar turned Castiel’s face back to him. “Listen to me. It’s perfectly all right you’re not obsessed with sex. It’s not for everyone. Some people don’t like chocolate. Sure, most people do—and maybe I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t—but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the people who don’t. It’s okay to not like a thing. It doesn’t make you broken, and it doesn’t mean you should try to like it anyway. You loved Dean. He may have thought it wasn’t in the right way, but there isn’t a right way to love someone.”
Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed, doing his best to ignore the tightness in his chest. When he felt he was no longer in danger of crying, he met Balthazar’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said, pouring as much sincerity into the two words as he could.
Balthazar nodded and moved back to his side of the couch.
Castiel took in his friend. “You’re not broken either, you know.”
Balthazar gaped at him for a moment before scowling. “Go back to your book.”
Castiel did, hands absently running patterns along Balthazar’s shins as he read about Achilles and Patroclus.
---
(this is part 1 of 5. The others are written but still being edited and will post over the next few days)
“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.”
“Yeah…thanks for that.” Dean drove the knife into Castiel’s chest.
~
“Wait, wait, wait…” Adam shoved another fry into his mouth, and Castiel could practically feel Michael’s quiet disapproval at Adam’s nutrition choices. “So, he just…stabbed you? After everything you guys went through in Hell? After he kissed you?”
“If you recall, I erased that. He had no memory of me.”
Adam huffed. “Sure. Which is a solid reason for him to deck you if he ever found that out, but…” He reached for his Coke and took a long drink. “Oh man, I've missed this. I’m not saying I’m not thankful you guys finally came back for us, but you sure took your sweet time about it. Anyway, my point is: Dean had no memory of you, you walked in and introduced yourself as the one who had saved him from Hell, and his first instinct was to stab you.”
Castiel sighed. “The thing you need to understand about your brother—”
“Not really a brother, Castiel. We didn’t grow up together, never even met him and Sam until we were adults. I don’t hate them, but there’s not really a relationship there either.”
“That is understandable.” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “But then why are you so interested in this story?”
Adam leaned back in his seat. “Michael wants to understand his brother. I’m being supportive.”
“We didn’t exactly ‘grow up together’ either.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. So, you were saying? The thing I need to understand about Dean is….?” Adam drug the last word out, waiting for Castiel to return to the story.
Castiel nodded, thinking how to explain. “When you were trapped in the cage, you knew you’d gotten a bad deal. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into our war. You didn’t deserve to be imprisoned along with Michael and Lucifer for a thing you never wanted. When I broke Sam out—as poor a rescue as it was that was later amended by Death—you knew it was wrong that you’d been left behind. You were angry, bitter,” He looked at Adam apologetically, “and rightfully so. You knew that none of this was what you deserved.”
Adam waited quietly. He said nothing, but there was agreement in his gaze.
Castiel nodded. “Well, the thing that you need to understand about Dean—in order to understand why he does a great many of the things he does—is that he doesn’t think he deserves to be saved.”
~
Castiel looked down at the blade in his chest.
Dean had stabbed him. Only hours ago, Dean had been clinging to him.
Castiel clenched his jaw, ignoring the flood of various confusing emotions, and pulled out the knife, only somewhat glad that it was no longer his blade that Dean had been holding. This one was a demon blade, useless. He hated that Dean didn’t know it was useless.
Castiel held out a hand to catch the crow bar that Dean’s friend was swinging at him. He wrapped his fingers around it.
Ridiculous humans and their useless weapons.
Castiel turned and put two fingers to the man’s forehead, putting him to sleep. Then, turned back to his charge. “We need to talk, Dean…alone.”
Dean ignored him and bent to the ground.
Castiel rolled his eyes and, leaving Dean to soothe himself by confirming his friend was fine, began thumbing idly through their notes.
They truly had thought of everything but angels. Castiel hated that Dean hadn’t known to think of angels.
“Your friend’s alive,” he told Dean impassively, ignoring the hint of sting that Dean thought he would have killed him.
“Who are you?” Dean asked shortly in response.
Castiel kept his eyes on the notes. Dean didn’t know his name. Just earlier Dean had been pleading his name. “Castiel.”
“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean: what are you?”
It was the worst deja vu. In his mind, Castiel could see Dean at the rack, blade in hand, covered in the blood of his victims as Alistair had taught him to be, demanding to know what Castiel was.
Castiel finally turned and looked at Dean as convincingly as he could. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”
Of course, again, Dean didn’t believe him. “Get the Hell out of here.” Only hours ago Dean had trusted Castiel to save him.
Bullshit, Dean had said in Hell. “There’s no such thing,” he said now.
Look, I don’t know what you are, but you’re no angel, so just cut the crap, all right?
In Hell, Castiel had growled and thrown Dean against the wall, told Dean that he could carry him out of Perdition nicely or drag him kicking and screaming.
Now, Castiel sighed. “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.”
Dean wouldn’t be able to see Castiel’s wings as he once had—Castiel’s attempts at communicating with him before finding a vessel had proven that much—but…the silhouette of them wouldn’t hurt him…
Castiel didn’t have the time or patience for this, he thought as he extended his wings. To say he’d had a long day would be to say the sun was a little warm or that Hell was a bit dark or how their Father was a tad glorious. This day, Castiel had finally escaped from Hell with Dean only to hear threats from Heaven of throwing him back if Dean refused to be Michael’s vessel, had figured out he harbored feelings for Dean (even if their nature was still somewhat confusing), had been kissed by Dean, had erased all Dean’s memories of him and given up any hope of exploring his newfound feelings so that Dean would fulfill his purpose and Castiel could keep him safe, had defied Michael by branding Dean as his own and then protecting him, had endured his own memories being tampered with and then restored…
Then, he had arrived here, prepared to convince and help Dean to fulfill the roll that would keep him safe…and Dean had stabbed him. Of course he had.
After all, in Dean’s mind, anything that would save someone like him…must be truly detestable. In Dean’s mind, all of the healing they’d been through together had been erased. In Dean’s mind, he was a monster; and therefore, anything that would want him back on earth was also a monster with a heinous agenda.
Balthazar considered for a moment before texting back. “I refuse to bring work home tonight. What did you have in mind?”
Castiel: “I am determined to stop obsessing over this draft until I’ve heard back from my editor and I’m needing something to distract me. I was thinking takeout, popcorn, and binging the rest of Stranger Things.”
Balthazar smiled down at his phone. “Sounds brilliant. Call us in an order at that Thai and Japanese Kitchen—get me that thing I like but can’t ever remember the name of—and I’ll pick that up along with some daiquiris on the way home. I should be leaving here in 10 or so.”
Castiel: “I love you.”
“Love you too, darling.”
“Hot date?”
Balthazar looked up to see Gabriel grinning at him over the edge of his cubicle. He rolled his eyes. “Hot? Certainly. Date? No.”
Gabriel tisked. “Oh, come on. You and Hannah broke up months ago. You gotta get back out there!”
Balthazar snorted. This wasn’t about Hannah; he was simply increasingly sure that he wasn’t built for relationships and should probably stop inflicting that on people. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Of course, by ‘get back out there,’ what I really mean is that you and my brother should just hook up already.”
“Absolutely not.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Puh-lease.. You can’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about it. You guys are practically married anyway. And god knows he could use a little fun.”
Balthazar scowled at him. “Firstly, don’t be so concerned with your brother’s sex life; it’s weird.” He stood and began gathering his things to leave. “Secondly, you know Castiel isn’t…well, that he isn’t exactly into hook-ups.” Balthazar looked up and pointed a finger at Gabriel. “And you’ll do well to respect that. Finally, your brother and his friendship mean far too much for me to ruin everything over filling a lonely night during a dry spell, so I’ll thank you not to bring it up again.”
Gabriel hummed. “So, you’re lonely at night?”
“Oh, for the love of...”
“You know, if Cassie isn’t interested, I could—”
“Good bye, Gabriel.” Balthazar walked out the door before Castiel’s brother decided to offer any more appalling ideas.
“Stop judging us, Netflix,” Castiel’s voice rumbled above him as Are you still watching? popped up on the screen between episodes.
Balthazar just hummed, enjoying the fingertips that were scratching along his scalp as he lay sprawled out on the couch with his head in Castiel’s lap.
Balthazar grinned up at him. “Obviously.” He sat up and grabbed the empty popcorn bowl from the coffee table. “But first, more popcorn. Anything else you’d like from the kitchen while I’m up?”
Castiel shook his head and stood. “No, but I think I’m going to change while you do that.”
“Why did you get dressed today, anyway? Isn’t one of the perks of working from home lounging around in pajamas? Or did you go somewhere?”
Castiel huffed. “I was struggling to feel motivated today and sometimes it helps, but I’m tired of it now.”
Balthazar chuckled. “Off with you, then,” he said, waving Castiel towards the bedroom as he walked into the kitchen. He set the empty bowl on the counter and rummaged through the cupboard for a fresh bag. “Oi, Cas!” he called when he couldn’t spot one. “Was that the last of the popcorn?”
“What?!” he heard Castiel’s voice from the hall.
Balthazar turned around to try again, only to be confronted by a mostly naked Castiel, standing in the doorway in his underpants, holding the shirt he’d been wearing, and in the act of kicking off his jeans. Balthazar blinked. Best friend or not, Castiel was truly attractive. He would like to blame Gabriel for having it in the forefront of his mind, but the truth was that the more comfortable he and Castiel were in each other’s space and with each other’s affection, the harder it was to not…well, be comfortable with other types of attention and affection.
Balthazar shook off the thought. “I don’t see any more popcorn.” He gestured to the cupboard. “Was that the last bag?”
Castiel chuckled and walked to the kitchen, stepping out of his jeans and tossing his discarded shirt on the couch as he passed it. “I didn’t buy microwave bags last time. I got this kettle corn instead.” He stretched up to pull a jar of corn kernels from the top shelf along with some oil before reaching around Balthazar to pull the salt from a different cabinet.
Balthazar did his best to not take advantage of the full display of lean muscle and tanned skin moving and reaching around him. He wasn’t sure what expression was on his face when Castiel turned to hand him the kernels, but whatever it was caused Castiel to pause.
“You…” Castiel frowned. “Do you need me to make it?”
Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I know how to make popcorn, love.”
“You look confused, or…something.”
Balthazar snorted. “Let’s just call it something, shall we?” He held up the bottle of oil and shook it in front of Castiel. “Now, run along and put on a shirt before those lovely muscles of yours tempt me into finding another use for this oil, hm?” He turned and made himself busy finding the perfect pot for cooking popcorn and decidedly not ogling the best friend next to him.
Castiel started to say something but paused and looked down at himself and blushed when he realized his state of undress. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Balthazar chuckled and shook his head. “It’s fine. I—” But Castiel still looked embarrassed. Balthazar chewed his lip, looking for the right words. “Look, you know I didn’t mean it like that, right? Well, I did, in that you’re objectively attractive, yes, but I promise I don't mean anything by it. I wouldn’t…I’d never, you know, try anything.”
Castiel gave him a soft smile. “I know that.”
“Does it bother you?” Balthazar chanced; then, when Castiel frowned in confusion, he added, “Me finding you attractive?”
Castiel considered that for a moment. “No,” he seemed to decide. “It doesn’t feel...predatory...coming from you.”
Balthazar sighed. “Good. Because it truly isn't.”
“I know.” Then Castiel smirked, “So...you think I’m attractive?”
Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I may not understand romance, but I do understand attraction, and I’m certainly not oblivious to your charms. Now, go put on some bloody clothes while I make our popcorn.”
Castiel laughed and headed back towards the bedroom. He paused in the entrance to the hallway and looked over his shoulder. “For the record,” he said, “I’m not oblivious to you either.”
Balthazar huffed a small laugh. He looked over his shoulder, batting his eyes at Castiel. “Is this your way of telling me that you find me becoming?”
Castiel’s lips pressed into a line as though he were fighting a smirk. “Maybe.”
Balthazar finally realized that the pot already sitting on the stove was likely the one Castiel had used for the first batch. He lifted the lid, confirming, and pretended not to hear Castiel snicker behind him, then turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”
Castiel shrugged. “I’m not particularly into sex. That doesn’t mean I don’t find you aesthetically pleasing.” Then, he turned and was gone.
Balthazar took a deep breath and turned back to the stove. He covered the bottom of the pot in oil and placed one kernel in to let him know when it was hot enough, then dropped his chin to his chest and tapped his fingers on the counter as he waited. “Fuck,” he breathed, pushing away from the counter and running a hand through his hair. He reminded himself that for most, the line between friends and lovers was a little less blurry than for him, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead his best friend on. Rein it in, you bastard. Castiel is off-limits.
And he was. Castiel was so, so very off-limits. Castiel, who had been Balthazar’s best friend ever since he could remember, who was so kind and loyal and loving and gentle and giving and—and who deserved better, deserved more. Castiel deserved to be adored and cherished and singularly worshiped. He deserved fairy tales and the kind of love that people would write songs about, and Balthazar just...really liked being around the guy and sometimes thought it'd be enjoyable to get to kiss him, too.
The kernel popped.
Balthazar fished it out, threw a scoop of fresh kernels into the pot, and slammed the lid.
No. He couldn’t be what Castiel deserved.
Someone would be, though. Some day, someone was going to come around who could see just how amazing Castiel friend was, sweep Balthazar’s best friend off of his feet, and leave Balthazar with a very Castiel-shaped hole in his life where late-night talks and morning coffee and movie nights and friendship and care and affection and intimacy used to be. Someone was going to be amazing and deserving and was going to give Castiel the love that he’d dreamt of.
Whoever it was…Balthazar loved him for it, but he also already couldn’t stand him.
Castiel crossed his arms on top of his dresser and dropped his head to them, breathing slowly.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Why was he letting everything get to him like this?
Castiel had been fostering a crush on Balthazar for…a while. It was difficult to put a finger on exactly when his feelings for his best friend had shifted from purely platonic, but over time, they had.
He was usually able to ignore it though. Certainly, it was an ever-present hum in the back of his mind, but it usually didn’t affect their time together so much as exist as a thing that Castiel would take out and examine when he was alone. It was a thing that he would lie in bed and yearn for long after Balthazar had fallen asleep. Usually, his crush on Balthazar was a thing that his mind would indulge within the safety of dreams and fantasies, but lay dormant during their waking interactions.
Usually, Love you too, darling would not have been playing on repeat in his mind since the moment he’d read it and you're objectively attractive wouldn't have sent him reeling. Usually, Castiel didn’t say dumb things like tell Balthazar how aesthetically pleasing he was. Usually, Castiel could let Balthazar rest his head in his lap and run his fingers through Balthazar’s hair without the urge to caress his face and tell him he was everything Castiel wanted…
Because Castiel had accepted a long time ago that he could not give Balthazar what he wanted. After all, Balthazar loved sex but would balk if he knew the flood of emotions and longing currently threatening to burst out of Castiel or how Castiel would happily spend the rest of his life with him.
Balthazar had tried to explain it to Castiel, what he saw in sex. He said liked the rush of it, the pleasure of it, the intimacy of it. He liked wanting and feeling wanted. He liked the closeness and connection that came with entrusting your bodies to each other entirely.
Some of those things, Castiel could understand. Perhaps not to the degree that Balthazar craved them(or at least not in the form which Balthazar craved those things), but he could understand. Yet…he’d been down such a road before, and he doubted that Balthazar would ever be satisfied in what Castiel could give him.
No, he couldn’t be what Balthazar wanted.
Someone could be though. Someone, some day would come along who would match Balthazar perfectly, who would see how amazing he was and never accuse him of being shallow or uncaring as some had, who would have the same types of desires and not be worried about the things Balthazar couldn’t give, who would see all the love and care that Balthazar did give.
“Castiel!” Balthazar’s voice called from the living room. “The popcorn’s done. Are you coming?”
Castiel pushed off of the dresser with a sigh and grabbed a t-shirt and some gray sweatpants from the drawers. “I’ll be right out!”
Yes. Someone, some day, would be exactly what Balthazar wanted.
Whoever it was…Castiel was grateful for them, but he already couldn’t stand them.
