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Castiel tracks his gaze around the large room, sipping at his drink. The room is not overly filled, just snug, people in every corner (thankfully not in Castiel’s), sipping their own drinks, socialising, and discussing strategies.
His boss had encouraged (read: threatened unemployment) if they didn’t attend. Castiel had to mingle to increase interest in the firm; profits were falling, clients were leaving, and apparently that meant they all to be pimped out.
He sighs internally and grabs a morsel of food off the waiter’s tray as he walks past, shoving it into his mouth to avoid having to speak. Just as he’s shuffling further into the corner, his mobile rings, startling the old lady beside him. Offering an apologetic smile, he answers it and moves away from her.
"Dean." He sounds more relieved than he should.
"How’s it going? Anyone ask for your time yet?"
He narrows his eyes in slight irritation at Dean’s words.
"No, thankfully."
He spots Hannah from across the room, wearing a grey dress matched with a blue blazer and black shoes with little gold bows on them. She speaking to a suit whose back is turned, but Castiel can see from here that he’s got blond hair and is about as built as he is.
She waves enthusiastically so he’s forced to wave a hand in return. Hannah’s nice, his mood is just sour.
"Shame." Dean’s voice pulls him away from Hannah.
"What do you mean, shame? I don’t have any particular urge to be… pimped out." He cringes internally.
"Hey, sex is fun, it’s great. No-one’s sayin’ you gotta tell ‘em your whole life story. You just gotta get that stick outta your ass and maybe stick somethin’ else up ther-"
"Okay!" he interrupts hurriedly. "I get the message."
He can practically hear Dean’s smug smirk.
"Atta boy! Go get ‘em."
He sighs.
It has been a while.
Trailing over the food table, he gaze rests on one dessert in particular. At that particular moment, his stomach decides to grumble.
"Sex can wait. I’d rather have some pie."
"Pie? Is it cherry?" Dean’s excited voice comes through the phone.
"Castiel?"
His attention is broken by the female voice to his left.
"Hannah." He greets.
"Pie, Cas! Bring me pie! Cherry pie!" Dean sounds distant through the phone.
"Gotta go, Dean." He says and flips the phone shut.
Her smile is wide and her eyes, teasing.
"This is Balthazar; he works in our London offices." She says pointedly, presenting him like a gift.
Castiel turns his attention to the man and holds out a hand. "London?"
"Yes." Balthazar confirms, blatant mischief in his eyes.
"How’re you finding it here?" He asks politely, determined not to get a lecture about his behaviour later from his colleague.
"Better now." The man insinuates, unashamedly flirting as his gaze trails down the length of Castiel’s body. He shies away from the scrutiny involuntarily. The way Balthazar does it is bold, confident; he’s clearly interested.
Castiel clears his throat. "I’m pleased to hear that."
Hannah almost squeals from happiness. "Castiel’s one of our best. Never fails to bring in new clients." She gushes.
"Really?" Balthazar says. "I can imagine why…" he adds, accent drawled, all flirty smirk and sex eyes and Castiel might be a little turned on right now.
They chat for a while, mostly nonsensical subjects in an attempt to pass the time. His heart’s beating harder in his chest than he’d care to admit so when Hannah finally leaves, he’s not at all surprised that the first words out Balthazar’s mouth are, "Should we take this outside?"
Castiel just nods. Balthazar leads him down the steps and outside by the small of his back. It’s easier when they get outside, the cool night air brushes against his skin as the blond-haired man pulls him close.
He’s eager, quick to get his lips on Castiel’s, and for a while it’s all just feeling and touching and pressing and Castiel feels… wanted. He refocuses Balthazar’s attention from his neck to his mouth and they exchange hot, heavy kisses. When Balthazar presses forward for more, Castiel just holds him there, a thumb brushing across his bottom lip.
He waits.
He’s not sure what he waits for.
But he waits.
An impatient whine escapes from the back of Balthazar’s throat so he relents.
"Where’s your car?" Castiel asks as Balthazar’s lips reattach themselves to his neck. He hears the quiet chuckle against his skin and it makes him shiver.
"The cherry over there…" is what he replies with.
Balthazar’s moved on to pressing their hips together and unbuttoning Castiel’s waistcoat and it’s all a little overwhelming because he’s losing his breath and feeling a little lightheaded at the attention. The car park lights are dim but his skin is hot and there’s a little niggling in the back of his mind.
"Stop…" it comes out as a rasp as he pats Balthazar’s hands away. The other man gets the message and pulls away.
"Something I did?" Balthazar asks, concern evident on his face. When Castiel takes a moment to reply, he steps away completely and rubs his bottom lip.
"It’s not you, it’s-"
"You don’t have to say that. In fact, it would be better if you didn’t." Though he’s smiling—he sounds hurt and Castiel’s expression is littered with apology.
"I’m sorry, I just remembered someone- something." Castiel expects the other man’s anger to increase but… it doesn’t? The smile gets wider and teasing.
"Well, then what’re you doing here? You should be there… with him." He says and something hits Castiel in the chest.
"Uh…" He’s never one to be without words but Balthazar’s statement leaves him inexplicably breathless.
"You should probably go."
Castiel nods slowly. When he doesn’t immediately make to leave, Balthazar nudges him a little.
"You’re not coming inside?"
"No. I rather enjoy the night air; the solitude. You understand?"
Castiel nods again. The way Balthazar turns away ends the conversation.
Inside brings much needed warmth, he rubs his arms. He sees Hannah from across the room in a serious conversation with their boss and tries not to be seen.
Successfully, he sneaks over to the food table.
-X-x-X-
The apartment is quiet when he gets home. He expects Sam to have to gone to bed, but there’s light coming from the living room.
Toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat, he pads into the room. Dean’s lying on the couch, Captain America playing on the TV but he’s not watching, no—he’s sleeping. On his back, one arm bent at the elbow, hand lying over his heart, the other lying limp by his side. His expression is peaceful, features smooth, jaw slightly slack. Castiel is weak in the face of the fond smile that pulls at his lips at the sight.
He walks over, especially careful to not make a disturbing sound, and drags the comforter from the back of the couch down to cover Dean’s body. The boy shifts in his sleep and rolls over on his side.
"mm… Cas…?" he slurs, in between sleep and consciousness.
Castiel crouches beside the couch and shushes him. His hand runs through Dean’s hair comfortingly and the other boy leans into the touch wanting more. He tries to ignore the way this feels so domestic and how his heart seems aflutter in his chest.
"I tried… to stay up…" Dean says, eyes closed.
His hand pauses at the side of Dean’s head, fingers still twined in the short brown-blonde hair. His thumb brushes across Dean’s temple gently.
"Go back to sleep."
He waits for a response but there is none.
I’m with you…
Castiel turns his head towards the TV, the glare makes him squint slightly but this is his favourite part and he can already feel the prickle at the corner of his eyes.
….till the end of the line.
There’s a hint of recognition in Bucky’s eyes and his turns his gaze away and towards Dean. He brushes his hand through Dean’s hair again and swallows the lump in his throat to lean down and whisper.
"I saved a piece for you."
Then, he picks up his heart and stands to search for the TV remote.
Dean shifts in his sleep again and murmurs, "…you’re the best, Cas." There’s a pause in his speech and Castiel waits. "…don’t tell Sam."
He huffs a laugh, switches off the TV, places the small foil package in the fridge and heads to his room.