Work Text:
“It’s just dinner.”
Castiel doesn’t even bother shaking his head in response, just continues to read. He actually doesn’t know that much about stolen ancient Chinese relics, which means that he’s got an interesting research paper to grade, for once.
“Cas, you know you want to,” Balthazar persists in a singsong voice.
“For the last time, I am uninterested,” Castiel says without looking up. “I’m busy—let me read.”
Balthazar sighs heavily and drops down into the chair across from Castiel’s. “What is your problem?”
“I do not have a problem. I understand that you are unaccustomed to having someone reject your advances so consistently, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me I have a problem. Now would you please let me read?”
“It’s lunch break, Cas. How many times do I have to tell you that this time is meant for eating, not reading?”
Castiel finally looks up at the Englishman, exasperated. “It’s none of your business what I choose to do at mealtimes.”
“Well! I’ve finally gotten your attention. Now, what do you say to—”
“No,” Castiel cuts him off.
“Cas—”
“Balthazar, I don’t understand what you’re attempting to accomplish here. I’ve already said, more than once, that I am not interested. Why are you still trying?” Castiel asks.
“Because I’m very persistent, and I’m thinking that one day, you’ll finally give up on whomever you’re pining for. And when—”
“I’m not pining,” Castiel interrupts, irritable.
“Right, of course you’re not,” Balthazar says, grinning now. “Except for the fact that you are, and whomever it is you’re interested in just isn’t returning your attention.”
“Don’t you think you’re projecting a little too much?”
“Oh, I could be projecting just a little. But I know you well enough to know that I hit that nail right on the head, darling. Now, about dinner—”
“It’s not happening. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” Castiel asks.
Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Fine, turn the conversation back to work, why don’t you? I’m going to a seller the day after tomorrow, and I’m going to need you to come along.”
“For?”
“In this case, verifying that the artifact is authentic.”
“What is it supposed to be?”
“Pueblo pottery. At least, she claims that it’s Pueblo, and that it’s a pot, or vase, or something. I’m not an expert, so I wouldn’t know whether or not it was real even if it was staring me in the face. But you already know that.”
Castiel pauses for a moment to think about his schedule the day after tomorrow—it’ll be a Wednesday, so he doesn’t have class. “What time?”
“Three in the afternoon. I scheduled our meeting on a day that I was sure you wouldn’t have class. Will you come?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up around two thirty then, yes?”
“That’s fine.”
“Would you be opposed to getting dinner after the meeting?”
Castiel sighs and looks back down at the paper in front of him. “Balthazar, you make it very difficult for me to be your friend.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear. I thought this friendship was going rather swimmingly, myself.”
Castiel shakes his head. “I think I liked you better when you were still bragging incessantly about your conquests.”
“Yes, well. I was bound to get bored of easy targets eventually.”
“Is that what I am to you, then? A challenge?” Castiel asks, skimming over the introduction.
“Much more than just a challenge,” Balthazar answers. “Why do you think I haven’t given up yet?”
“Because you can’t take no for an answer.”
“No, because I actually want to date you. Is that so hard to believe?”
Castiel’s more focused on grading now, so he just responds as he did the last time Balthazar asked him this—“Coming from you, yes.”
“Cas.”
Castiel just keeps reading, so he’s startled when Balthazar puts a hand over his. “What?” he says, pulling his hand back.
“I really would like to date you, and I’d appreciate it if you believed that,” Balthazar says seriously.
The shift in his friend’s demeanor throws Castiel off. In all the time that they’ve known each other, Balthazar’s always been cocky and flippant and sarcastic, never this serious, this close to revealing vulnerability.
“I… believe you,” Castiel says, making sure to meet Balthazar’s eyes when he says it. “But I’m still not interested.”
Balthazar nods. “I know.” Then he’s smirking again. “Won’t stop me from trying, of course,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’ll leave you to your not-lunch, then. Until Wednesday.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Castiel watches as Balthazar walks away from the table and out of the café, heading back in the direction of campus. He disappears into the crowd of people, and Castiel looks back down at the research paper again.
Castiel met Balthazar a little over six months ago—he’s heir to some large estate in England, but he chose to come to America because he wanted more freedom, and Kansas… well, he ended up in Kansas because he knew it was one of the most unlikely places for his family to come looking for him. He’s well-educated but doesn’t know a whit about ancient artifacts—in fact, Castiel’s almost certain that Balthazar is paying the university to keep him hired in acquisitions for the Spencer Museum of Art.
For what felt like the longest time, Balthazar was just the annoying but entertaining man who liked to brag about all the people he’d slept with. And then, about two months ago, Castiel somehow caught Balthazar’s attention, and the man has been propositioning him ever since.
Objectively speaking, Balthazar is not an unattractive man. He dresses impeccably, and he takes good care of himself. It doesn’t hurt that he’s filthy rich, either. And despite his blithe way of going about life, he can be serious when the situation calls for it. These are all indicators that he’d make a good partner, and Castiel knows that there’s not much else he could ask for.
Except… he’s not Dean.
He’s not Dean. He will never be Dean, nor will he ever replace Dean. Not in Castiel’s heart, where Dean’s taken root so strongly that Castiel’s sure he’ll never be rid of him, no matter what his brain says.
So even though Balthazar is a good man, maybe even the “right” man, Castiel finds that he cannot accept him.
“Dean, really. You should go now,” Castiel says, pulling at Dean’s hand.
“Five more minutes,” Dean mumbles, lips brushing against the back of Castiel’s neck as he speaks. His hand tightens on spur of Castiel’s hip, and at this point, Castiel might as well have a hand-shaped mark on that spot, because it seems to be the go-to location for Dean’s hand whenever they’re together.
Castiel glances at the clock. “You said that five minutes ago.”
Dean only hums in reply, and Castiel shrugs his shoulders to put some distance between them. It doesn’t help much, though—Dean just waits for him to stop moving and then curls up around him.
Castiel opens his mouth to continue talking Dean out of bed, but the doorbell rings before he can say anything. He frowns. Who would be coming over at just past midnight? He starts to sit up, but Dean makes a disgruntled noise and tugs him back down.
“Dean, you’ve got to let me go. Someone’s at the door.”
As Castiel finishes speaking, the doorbell rings again, followed by three muted knocks.
“Just ignore it,” Dean says. “They can come back tomorrow.”
Castiel pries Dean’s hand off his hip, but it just comes back around his chest, and they wrestle on the bed for a moment.
“Cas?” a voice calls faintly.
That’s Balthazar. What’s he doing here? “Dean, let me go,” Cas says, finally yanking free. Of course, his momentum sends him rolling off the bed, and he lands on the ground with a loud thump. He groans and gets to his feet before tugging on a pair of sweats and heading out to answer the front door. Behind him, he can hear Dean laughing, the bastard.
Castiel pulls open the front door and sticks his head out into the hallway. “Hey!” he calls to Balthazar’s retreating figure. “Did you need something?”
Balthazar turns around, and his eyes widen slightly as he returns to Castiel’s doorway. It occurs to Castiel belatedly that he should probably have donned a shirt as well—Dean was very enthusiastic tonight, and glancing down, Castiel can see a number of bruises blossoming on his torso.
“You reek of sex,” Balthazar observes, maybe a shade too casually.
Castiel’s already regretting opening the door. “What did you want?”
Balthazar lifts his arm, and Castiel notices the familiar tan material draped over it. “You left your coat in the car this afternoon.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even noticed,” Castiel says, taking it. “You, uh. You didn’t have to come all this way.”
“It was no problem. Knew you’d need it for work tomorrow.”
Castiel nods. “Thank you, then.”
Balthazar’s eyes are still raking over Castiel’s chest, probably taking in the bruises, and Castiel resists the urge to squirm. “So you’re really not pining, then,” is what Balthazar finally says.
Castiel steps out into the hall and pulls the door shut behind him. “No, I’m not.”
“What’s the problem, then? I know you’re not happy.”
“Who ever said I wasn’t happy?”
“You don’t have to say it for it to be true, for other people to notice. I just happened to notice,” Balthazar says, and Castiel wonders how he could possibly have noticed that—Castiel’s always taken care to make sure his thoughts aren’t noticeable. As though having heard that thought, Balthazar continues, “You think that people can’t see you, but they do. I do, even if he doesn’t.” He jerks his head toward the closed apartment door as he finishes speaking.
“That’s not—” Castiel cuts himself off before he can say that it isn’t true, because that would be a lie.
Dean doesn’t know that anything is amiss, but that’s because Castiel is extra careful around him. When he’s with Dean, his emotions are on lockdown, hidden away where Dean can’t find them, because as unhealthy as this arrangement might be for Castiel, he doesn’t want it to end.
“Ah,” Balthazar says with a knowing look. “Well, I suppose I can guess what’s wrong. Just… who is he?”
“You don’t know him, and you don’t need to know him,” Castiel says firmly. Balthazar just stands and watches him, as though if he stares long enough, Castiel will give in and tell him everything. “It’s late,” Castiel says. “Go home and get some sleep.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll be dropping by to see you tomorrow, though.”
Castiel just nods, not bothering to protest. It won’t do any good, anyway. “Good night.”
“Good night, Cas.”
Balthazar heads off down the hall, and Castiel goes back into his apartment. Dean’s still lying down when Castiel reenters his bedroom.
“Hey, lazy ass. Get up,” Castiel says.
Dean grumbles something unintelligible and burrows under the covers, feigning sleep.
Castiel sighs. “I know you’re awake, Dean.”
When Dean doesn’t move, Castiel reaches over and tugs at the blanket, but Dean’s prepared for him and is already clutching two fistfuls of it.
“Dean,” Castiel says, exasperated. “I have a class to attend tomorrow morning. You have to go.”
It takes about five more minutes of coaxing, followed by a brief wrestling match, to get Dean out of his apartment. Castiel falls asleep and has nightmares about an interrogation, Spanish Inquisition style, with Balthazar grilling him about his faith in Dean. There might be something about a war. And Celine Dion may be singing in the background.
Castiel almost jumps when Balthazar’s voice comes from just behind him. “So, what’s his name?” Balthazar is asking in a cheery voice.
“Please stop pestering me,” Castiel says, taking a sip from his coffee as Balthazar sits down across from him. “I wouldn’t bother you like this if our situations were reversed.”
“Well, of course you wouldn’t. That’s why you’re you and I’m me. It’s also why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has no clue how you feel.”
Castiel sighs. “Don’t try to get in my good graces with Harry Potter references. It won’t work.”
Balthazar smiles. “Honestly, I’m still surprised that you like Harry Potter at all. And besides, I don’t have to try to do that. I know for a fact that I’m already in your good graces.”
Castiel shrugs and wishes he had more work to do. He finished the last of those research reports on his free day yesterday, and now he’s wondering why he didn’t think to save a few, just to look busy.
“If you won’t tell me his name, then tell me what he’s like.”
Castiel sees no point in doing so and doesn’t bother saying it.
“Oh come on, Cas. Work with me,” Balthazar says.
“I’m busy trying something new,” Castiel says, eyes on the table.
“What is it?”
“Pretending I don’t see you so you’ll take the hint and leave.”
Balthazar laughs at this. “Oh, you’ll have to work harder than that to get rid of me.”
“Yes, I’d anticipated that that would be the case.”
“So just tell me. What’s he like?”
“Dean.”
Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“His name is Dean. That’s all you’re getting,” Castiel says.
“Cas—” Balthazar starts, but Castiel just fixes him with a steady, unyielding stare, and he stops. “All right,” he says finally, conceding. “I’ll leave you alone, then. But just tell me one thing. What are you going to do when he’s done with you?”
“What?”
“What are you going to do when he’s done with you?” Balthazar repeats. “When he’s tired of you, when he’s moving on to fuck the next pretty face in line? What then, Cas?”
Castiel hasn’t thought much about it, because he’s always assumed that everything would go back to normal, that everything would be fine. But thinking of it now causes his gut to twist and his stomach to clench painfully. Because he doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want it to be over.
“And he will get tired of you, Cas. If I’m reading you right, this Dean isn’t interested in you at all. What’ll happen when he meets the guy of his dreams and leaves you out to dry?”
Castiel doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have a response that would shut Balthazar up. Not satisfactorily, anyway. He takes another drink from his coffee cup and waits for Balthazar to leave.
Finally, Balthazar sighs and gets to his feet. “Cas,” he says, and his voice is softer now. “I don’t know your opinion of me, but I know it isn’t the best. And that’s… fine. My behavior hasn’t warranted much respect, and I’m aware of that. But I just… if nothing else, I just want to be able to look after you. You’re going to end up heartbroken over this man, if you aren’t already, and—”
“Who are you to say that about me?” Castiel says suddenly, and there’s something chilling in his voice that even he himself doesn’t recognize.
Balthazar lifts both hands in front of his chest, palms facing out, surrendering. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…” he starts, but then he shakes his head, brows furrowed in anger. “No. No, damn it, you’re not scaring me off. Cas, Castiel, I meant what I said. And even if you won’t let me be anything else to you, I am your friend. I’m allowed to care about how you feel, all right?”
Castiel has no rebuttal to this. Because Balthazar is his friend, and he does have the right to care. And it does feel nice to have someone who’s concerned about how he feels, for once.
He looks up in time to see Balthazar sigh, see the flare of anger dying out in his grey-blue eyes, replaced by all-too-familiar resignation. And that’s… that’s wrong. It’s wrong for Castiel to be the cause of this look, because he’s seen it too many times when he looked in the mirror.
“Sorry,” he says.
Balthazar shakes his head, and the weakness vanishes instantly, as though he’s remembered himself. “No, no, don’t be sorry,” Balthazar says, a smirk beginning to form on his lips.
But Castiel’s had enough, doesn’t want to hear the lies. “Stop,” he says. “Just… stop.”
His friend’s expression sobers. “All right. I’ll just go, then.” Balthazar gives him a brief smile before walking past him and away from the table.
“No—Balthazar, wait.”
The sound of Balthazar’s footsteps stops. “Yes?”
Castiel turns to see Balthazar’s back facing him. He takes a deep breath. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”
Balthazar stiffens. Slowly, he turns back around to face Castiel, and his expression is guarded, like he isn’t sure how to react. Like he doesn’t trust Castiel’s sincerity.
“Just as friends,” Castiel says, so that Balthazar knows he isn’t promising anything.
“You’re not fucking with me, are you?”
“I wouldn’t.”
Balthazar nods, then. “Six thirty all right with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up from your place,” Balthazar says, a tentative smile stretching his lips.
Castiel returns the smile. “See you then.”
Balthazar starts walking away again, but he turns back and adds, “So, you said that tonight’s dinner is going to be ‘just as friends.’”
“And I meant it.”
He grins. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until next time, then.”
“Who said there was going to be a next time? I’ve only agreed to tonight.”
The grin widens. “Oh darling, I take that as a challenge.”
With that, Balthazar departs, and as Castiel turns back to his coffee, he finds himself smiling.