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“It’s abandoned,” Meg finds herself muttering, unable to keep frustration from her voice. “I don’t see why we would be going anywhere abandoned right now. We have a case. And the ghouls are sure as hell not here.”
“You don’t know that,” Bal retorts easily. “After all, don’t the ghouls like to hide in the abandoned places?”
Meg narrows her eyes on him. “Darling,” she says, her voice dangerously sweet. “You and I would both feel it if there were any beings around, supernatural or not. There isn’t anyone. Know why? Because it is fucking abandoned.”
She and Balthazar are standing in front of a building that she thinks used to be a mansion - or something that very much wished to be a mansion, you can never tell here - and they are not hunting the things that is responsible for the inhabitants of this godforsaken city in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Arizona dropping like flies and she is very, very tempted to go back evil for a small innocent angelslaughter.
“Your enthusiasm borders that of Sam Winchester in a fast food chain,” Bal comments, as he steps forward to hold the door open for her.
“Hilarious,” she answers, not moving from where she’s standing. “I didn’t say I’m coming.”
“You never do,” her - soon to be strangled - boyfriend answers, smirking. “I deduced it from the context.”
She narrows her eyes on him. “Fine,” she says. “But if the place is empty - which I’m sure it is - you're handling the next Days of our Destiel Lives crisis on your own.”
Bal presses his free hand dramatically to his chest. “Oh, your Majesty, your cruelty knows no bounds,” he proclaims and Meg glares at him, but she walks past him into the building.
She doesn’t even bother to take out her angel blade as she leads the way, and she chooses not to point out that her boyfriend chooses to remain unarmed, too.
“I still don’t know what we are doing here,” she mutters. “Running around the empty mansion like complete idiots.”
“Some people would call it romantic,” Bal tells her, smirking and Meg doesn’t even bother to hide the way she rolls her eyes at that.
“And if I ever take over the world, I will have those people removed,” she replies, giving Balthazar her most angelic smile that she knows isn’t fooling him at all.
“You wouldn’t,” he answers. He looks awfully pleased with himself. It makes Meg want to kiss the smirk from his face. Or maybe spank him. She hasn't entirely decided yet.
“Don’t test me.”
Balthazar bends down to press a kiss to her hair. “Or what? Will you punish me?” he asks her innocently and Meg huffs out a laugh.
“Maybe I won’t punish you,” she replies, and then she unceremoniously kicks the locked door open.
To her absolute not surprise, the locked room ends up being absolutely perfectly empty, just like every other room in the abandoned house were.
Shocking.
“Happy now?” she asks, letting the tiniest spark of frustration enter her voice. “Can we go? I would like to find the ghouls before they turn anyone else into a dinner, and Dean gives me another lecture on the worth of human life that I can’t possibly understand.”
Balthazar’s eyes flash dangerously at that, but he recomposes quickly enough. “Cassie smited the ghouls this morning,” he replies, almost a non-sequitur, leaving Meg blink up at him, confused.
“Come again?” she says, her voice very calm and very dangerous, and she supposes it’s good that Balthazar actually does happen to know her enough to know that she is very close to being annoyed for real, because he drops the act and hurries to explain.
“You’ve had a busy month,” the angel says quietly. “And that’s without the Winchester duo meddling into it with their growing monster-killing demands. Cassie and I felt that you might appreciate a day off – your minions believe you’re currently busy with the flannel-wrapped nightmares, while said nightmares think we are on a hunt for them.”
“Oh,” Meg says quietly, not sure what else she should be saying.
It’s not that… it’s not that Balthazar is exactly wrong; Meg will be the first to admit that the last few years have been anything but simple. Between the Apocalypse in the making, battles with Crowley, fight with the Leviathan and her current situation as the Queen of Hell and the Winchester ally, she is more than willing to admit that she is tired, even though she would deny it in front of about anyone else.
But the fact that there is someone who cares… Meg doesn’t think she has anyone who would care about something so trivial in relation to her as that she is… tired.
The fact that an angel (two angels, even, if she takes into account that Castiel not only knew about this, but actively helped making it happen) can care about her this much…
It makes Meg’s head spin with things she is by no means ready to analyse, and so she doesn’t. Instead, she crosses the distance between her and Balthazar, pressing herself against him, and the angel lets out a surprised sound, but he wraps his arms around her.
“Bobby booked an apartment in Paris,” he says casually into Meg’s hair, making Meg pull back to stare at him incredulously and Balthazar shrugs. “He insisted. It appears he has a thing for demon queens.”
“As he should,” Meg says, leaning into the comfort of their bickering. “I’m glad at least one of them knows how to treat the Queen of Hell.”
Bal smirks at her. “One of them?” he asks and Meg winks.
“Well. You could always show me that you know how to treat me,” she suggests innocently. “And then you can show me Paris.”
Balthazar presses her palm to his lips, kissing it lightly. “As my lady commands,” he answers, lowering his voice and Meg doesn’t try to hide the shiver at that.
He kisses her then, slowly, pressing her back against the nearest wall, and Meg decides she doesn’t mind it at all.
Not at all.
She especially doesn’t mind it when Bal breaks the kiss to kiss his way down her jaw, and when he sucks a bruise into her neck, and then another one, and then he continues kissing her neck as he works her jacket off her shoulders and she suspect there is a lot of magic involved when he removes her top as well.
And then it turns out Meg still has a thing for an angel kneeling in front of her.
Who would have thought.