Chapter Text
“Becky’s working the front desk today, isn’t she?” Castiel said when Gabe slammed open the door to his office.
“How’d you know?” Gabe said, followed immediately by, “Happy b-day, Cassiopia!”
“She’s going to take all the flirting seriously one day,” Castiel added, still not looking up from his computer. “You need to tell her you’re pining after someone else.”
“Cold, man. But I’m gonna forgive you because—“
“It’s my birthday, yes,” Castiel cut in. The volume of his keyboard clacking swelled. Gabe leaned on the desk, and Castiel discretely nudged a teetering pile of binders away from his cousin’s elbow.
“Listen,” Gabe said. “The band’s doing a gig at the Cage tonight. Cheap booze, completely laid back, small crowd. It’s like training wheels.”
“If it’s my birthday, that means I get to do whatever I want.”
“If it’s your birthday, that means I get to give you a present.” Gabe grinned. “And that present is contact with the rest of the human race.”
“It’s not like I don’t have friends,” Castiel pointed out.
“Sure.” Gabe ruffled his hair. “I’m picking you up at six.”
Castiel watched as Gabe winked at him, spun around on his heel, and strode out of the office like he’d just won an argument.
That afternoon, Castiel asked both his supervisors whether they perhaps had some last-minute, massive project that absolutely needed to get done that night. Linda gave him a strange look; Benny asked whether it wasn’t his birthday today.
“Um. Yes,” Castiel admitted, scuffing at the marble tiles. Above where he and Benny stood, two workers installed a Pre-Raphaelite painting with painstaking slowness.
“Ain’t kids your age supposed to be going out and getting drunk, then?” Benny said distractedly, turning to the rest of the gallery piled with crates and half finished construction work. His eyes narrowed. “You know what, this isn’t gonna work. De Morgan can’t be next to Sandys; their styles are too much at odds.”
“I can come up with a new exhibit order tonight,” Castiel tried, which only earned him raised eyebrows.
“Go home, Milton,” Benny ordered. “And tell that damn cousin of yours to stop flirting past our secretary. Becky is going to take it seriously one of these days.”
***
The Cage wasn’t what Castiel would have called classy, but the bathrooms were clean and the glasses didn’t show obvious grime. So Castiel resigned himself to his fate and allowed Gabe to station him in one of the giant, squishy couches and stick a bottle in his hand. Anna kept him company while the band got its equipment set up on the tiny stage. She smelled vaguely of stale sweat, and her hair was in a ragged ponytail.
“Hard day?” Castiel asked.
Anna shrugged. “A little,” she said, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. “Had two major car accidents this morning and this kid fell off his ladder and shattered his leg. Screamed bloody murder the whole way back to the hospital.” Anna snorted. “Then, right at the end of my shift, we get a call from some little old man, and when we pull up, he asks us to give him a ride to the hospital for his hip surgery. We had to explain to him: ambulance, sir. Not taxi service.” Anna took a pull from her beer. “Michael called and left a message while I was driving over here.”
“Did you listen to it?”
“I already know what it says. Some bullshit about how I’m ruining my own life.” She took a second, longer pull.
“You didn’t have to come tonight,” Castiel said.
“Shut up,” Anna said warmly, throwing an arm over Castiel’s shoulder. “What, I’m supposed to miss my baby brother’s birthday?”
Castiel shrugged and watched Balthazar test the acoustics on his bass. Behind him, Gabe and Meg bickered about something to do with the evening’s lineup while Lilith perched on top of a speaker, absorbed in her phone.
The Cage steadily filled as the evening wore on. By the time the band got going with its first number, Castiel had drunk enough beers for a pleasant buzz to overtake the gnawing anxiety. He recognized enough of the faces that drifted in and out of the bar’s gloom. Mostly friends of Gabe and Balthazar’s as well as various cousins. Even Raphael appeared briefly, still dressed in her workday pantsuit. She stayed by Castiel and Anna’s side for the twenty minutes she was there, enquiring about work, telling them that Michael was busy tonight but sent his love, and glancing at the stage every so often like she still wasn’t sure how to process her little brother and cousin doing a cover of the Sex Pistols.
At one point, Hannah called, and Castiel spent nearly five minutes assuring her that college was hard enough without trying to drive halfway across the country on a school night, and no, she wasn’t a horrible person for missing her big brother’s birthday, and honestly, she wasn’t missing anything special, and did she know Michael hadn’t shown up, either? So stop worrying.
Sometime in the evening, right after Hael appeared with a round of Jell-o shots, the band finished its last number and the crowd whooped.
“Thank you, thank you guys for coming to see Heaven’s Devils. We have demo CDs in the back,” Balthazar announced.
“That name still sounds like a cheap rip-off of Hell’s Angels,” Anna muttered to Castiel.
Balthazar grinned, his lips bumping into the mic. “Listen, before we sign off tonight, I just need to send a huge birthday wish to my baby cousin over there—“ Castiel groaned as the bar erupted into cheers and bright laughter, “—and I need all of you in on this, just to see how red we can make him.”
Anna was laughing as she tugged Castiel’s hands away from his face. He had to plaster a grin onto his mouth and hope it looked genuine as a roomful of family and mostly strangers jangled out a drunken, uncoordinated version of “Happy Birthday.” Finally, the last chord from Lilith’s guitar faded and the bar fell back into a loud swell of chatter.
“I’m going to smack both of them,” Castiel muttered to Anna.
“Lighten up,” she ordered, patting his shoulder and handing him another beer. “What’s family for?”
Castiel grunted.
“Hey Clarence,” a bright voice came from behind him, and a pair of lips landed on his cheek.
“Hi Meg.” Castiel turned. “You sounded very good.”
“I sounded incredible,” Meg agreed, hauling herself onto the bar stool beside Castiel’s. “Vodka,” she told the bartender, then flashed Castiel a wide smile. “You handled that like a trooper; I’m proud of you.”
Gabe, Lilith, and Balthazar arrived then, and Castiel’s world descended into loud talking, alcohol, and eventually a half attempt at dancing, courtesy of Meg.
Castiel couldn’t have guessed what time it was when someone led him outside, and the cool February air cleared his head a little. He stared unseeingly at the orange glow of a streetlight as voices bubbled somewhere behind him. He heard snatches of “—said he’d be there—“ and “—not too drunk, is he?”
Before Castiel could turn and ask what they were talking about, he was being shepherded into a car that smelled like Meg’s. Gabe sat beside him and laughed too loud. Castiel rested his temple against the cool car window and closed his eyes. Some blurred time later, the car rolled to a halt, and Gabe shook Castiel’s arm.
“C’mon,” he said. “Get on out.” Castiel peeled his eyes open and frowned at the scene outside the window.
“This isn’t my house,” he said.
“It’s your last present,” Balthazar called from the front seat. “We all pitched in!”
Castiel squinted at the line of doors and slowly pieced together that he was looking at a motel. That…that wasn’t a good sign, and yet Castiel’s brain was too fuzzy to come up with a good reason why.
The car door opened, and Meg helped him out. “Here,” she said, pressing a water bottle into his hand. “Just relax, okay? He came on a recommendation from Ruby, and she has great taste. He’s supposed to be really sweet.”
“What?” Castiel asked dumbly, but by then Meg was steering him toward one of the doors. It wasn’t a nice door. Faded by sun, a few rust spots. Castiel didn’t want to go past it. Balthazar appeared to pop it open, and the darkness inside made Castiel nearly buck against Meg’s grip.
“Hey, hey,” she muttered. “I swear, Clarence, you’ll be okay. Don’t do anything if you don’t want to, but give him a chance.”
“Give who a chance?” Castiel asked, his voice coming out a little wild.
“You crazy kids have fun,” Gabe said. Meg’s hands disappeared, and Castiel found himself nudged through the door. It clicked shut behind him, leaving him in shadow. He gripped his water bottle and squinted into the dark motel room. He wasn’t alone; he could tell. There was someone breathing in there. A mattress squealed.
“Shit!” Castiel yelped and chucked his water bottle in the direction of the noise. He heard a thunk followed by an, “Ow.”
He shouldn’t have thrown his water bottle, Castiel thought frantically. He’d lost his only weapon, and now this person was going to murder him and hide his body parts somewhere on the side of the highway.
The person hissed, and the mattress groaned again. “You play baseball or something?” a man’s voice asked.
“No,” Castiel replied automatically. He snapped his mouth shut.
“You should consider it.” A shift of bed sheets, a click of a lamp switch, and Castiel found himself staring at a man with shoulder-length hair and far too much leg sitting on the bed. He wore a simple button-down and dark, fitted jeans, and he was rubbing at his forehead.
“Who are you?” Castiel demanded, his voice coming out in a slight rasp.
“You’re Castiel Milton?” the man asked, his hand dropping.
“…yes.”
The man nodded. “You’re in the right place.” He studied the expression on Castiel’s face. “Hey, did they not tell you…they said they’d let you know before.”
“What?”
“Uh. I’m your birthday present.” The man shrugged and grinned, and he had a lovely grin, but Castiel didn’t have the chance to process that.
“You’re my…” It clicked with a sickening thud in Castiel’s brain. He looked again at the shady motel room, at the tall man with the dark jeans, and any fuzziness in his head evaporated.
“I,” he said in a flat voice, “am going. To murder them.” The man’s grin dropped a fraction. “Listen,” Castiel said, drawing himself up and doing his best to look dignified. “I’m going to have to apologize. My idiot cousins clearly thought this was a fantastic idea, and whatever they told you, I can assure you they were probably lying—“
“They told me I needed to de-virginize you.” The man paused, and the edge of his mouth quirked. “Their words, not mine.”
“Right.” Castiel’s face flushed, and he hoped the room was dim enough to conceal it. “Well, like I said, they’re idiots, and I’m sorry you got dragged into the middle of all this—“
“They told me that you like to play hard to get.” The man stood, and oh lord, he was tall. He was way, way too tall. Castiel’s mouth went dry and he would have taken a step back if he wasn’t already bumped up against the door.
“Don’t,” he tried, but his voice left him halfway through, and instead he made a thin exhale. The man froze, his fingers hovering over the top button of his shirt. For several excruciating seconds, they stared at one another through the dim, muddy lamplight.
“Oh,” the man said, his voice suddenly an octave higher. “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, I thought—hell.” His hands dropped from his shirt and instead starting hovering toward Castiel. “Do you need to sit down?” he asked. “You look pale. You should sit.”
Castiel blinked then nodded once. He pushed himself from the door and managed a somewhat straight line toward the single queen bed. He heard the man shuffling around, and a moment later a water bottle dropped into his lap. The water bottle he’d thrown.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, and Castiel dragged his head up to find him wiping his hands on his jeans. “Listen, I still have the cash. I’ll give that back, and then I can go and…they told me…I really am sorry.”
“Hang on,” Castiel said. He unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long sip of tepid water. When he lowered the bottle, he found the man staring at him with what resembled full-blown anxiety. “What’s your name?” Castiel asked.
The man straightened. “Sam,” he said.
“Did you drive here?”
Sam shook his head. “Bus. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Castiel glanced at the clock and winced; it was nearing three in the morning. “Not really,” he said, reaching for his back pocket. “Ok, I’m calling—“ His jeans were flat. Castiel froze, then slapped at his pockets as if to make his phone or wallet magically appear, but that got him nowhere. Without speaking, Castiel stumbled to his feet and moved to the door. When he flung it open, the parking lot was dark and silent with no sign of Meg’s car.
“They took my stuff,” Castiel said in a flat voice. He turned to Sam. “I can’t—they took it.”
“Here.” Sam fished a cracked phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. Castiel grabbed it before thinking and ducked outside. He folded his arms against the chill as he dialed Anna’s number. When he got her voicemail, he made a low, pathetic sound that he hoped Sam didn’t hear.
“Anna,” he said when the tone beeped. “Listen, Gabe and Balthazar and Meg ambushed me, and now I’m at…some motel. Fuck, I don’t even know where.”
“We’re on the corner of Jackson and Clayton,” Sam said from the doorway. Castiel whirled around, and Sam ducked back into the motel room with a grimace. Castiel stared after him for a moment.
“Right,” he said. “Corner of Jackson and Clayton. They took my phone and wallet, Anna. I, uh. Please come pick me up. Seriously, please come.”
Castiel hung up, thought for a moment, then tried Meg’s, Gabe’s, and Balthazar’s numbers. None of them answered, the bastards. After that, he was temped to start calling cousins, except he wasn’t keen on any of them catching wind of his situation.
“No one awake?” Sam asked when Castiel reentered the room and handed the phone back.
“Um. No.”
“That’s fine. Listen, I know this place isn’t great, but it has a bed and running water and it’s paid for. You go ahead and sleep here, and I’m sure one of your friends will be here in the morning. I’ll head home.”
“They’re not my friends.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “The buses aren’t running at this hour.”
“No, yeah, I know. I’ll just…go to the nearest corner and call a cab. Or walk home; it’s not that far.”
“You’re going to get mugged,” Castiel said. Sam tilted his head, and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, you know, if a bunch of them gang up on you. If one person hangs off each your shoulders, I think the third person could slip in there and pick your pockets.”
“This sounds like an elaborate mugging,” Sam said. A grin hid somewhere in his voice.
“I’m drunk,” Castiel said. “And deeply…deeply bewildered, to be honest. I should be home right now and instead I’m here with—“ He stopped then because he knew, despite everything, that he shouldn’t be blaming the seven-foot call boy. Hell, he’d been the only one so far to act decent.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Sam said. He grinned again, and this time enough of Castiel’s brain was on board to note that it was, in fact, a very nice grin.
“You shouldn’t go,” Castiel heard himself say. “Or, I mean, call the cab and wait here for it. It’s also cold out there. So you’d be cold and mugged.”
Sam exhaled a light laugh but didn’t actually make a move to pull his phone out. “I’ll just go to the corner,” he said.
Castiel frowned. “Is this because I hit you with my bottle? I swear I was acting out of self defense.”
“No, it’s really—“
“Or because I don’t want to have sex with you?” Castiel barreled forward, clearly having lost control of the entire situation. “Because it’s honestly not you because obviously you’re very good looking it’s more like I’m not…” He waved an arm as if that translated into anything.
“Right.” Sam nodded. “Here, I apologize again, and I’ll just wait on the corner. Your money’s on the bedside table.” Castiel glanced over and found a small pile of bills. Which, hang on, that was money.
“That’s not even my money, that’s my dumb cousins’ money,” Castiel realized out loud. “Why didn’t you say you had this?”
Sam furrowed his brow. “I did?”
“This solves everything.” Castiel went across the room and scooped up the pile, sifting through it and finding several twenties and tens. Lots of them, in fact. He glanced at Sam, who had gone red around the ears.
“Here,” Castiel said, and split the pile into what he guessed were even halves. He shoved one half toward Sam. “They still owe me a birthday present, so let’s go ahead and take it. Do you know any good burger joints still open?”
***
It was the greasiest greasy spoon diner that Castiel had ever set foot in. He could see the sheen floating on the top of his coffee.
“They say not to mix alcohol and caffeine,” Castiel said, scooting his mug a few inches to the left. On the bar stool beside him, Sam took a large swallow from his mug and slapped it down like he’d just taken a shot.
“Might not be caffeine,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Might possibly be jet fuel.” Before Castiel had a chance to crack a smile, the waiter arrived to slide two plates in front of them. The smell of grilled red meat hit Castiel like a ton of bricks, and he felt for the bottle of ketchup on autopilot.
He and Sam ate in silence, which suited Castiel fine. He was finally starting to sober to the point that he could question his judgment in gallivanting around town with the guy Gabe, Meg, and Balthazar had hoped would take his virginity. Castiel cast a sidelong look at Sam taking gigantic bites of his turkey club and felt a small frown run across his face. His eyes then shifted down to the battered backpack sitting at the base of Sam’s bar stool. It was half open, and Castiel could see the edge of a thick textbook. He craned his neck to try and read the title.
“I’m in law school. Second year.” Castiel dragged his eyes up. Sam was wiping mustard from his fingers. “I don’t usually bring my school stuff to work, but I was told I might be waiting for a while, and I have an exam on Friday.”
“Yeah,” Castiel said. He sensed this was an opening for a polite round of conversation wherein he’d ask Sam what kind of lawyer he wanted to be and how he’d gotten into it. But the words got mucked up on the way from his brain to his mouth, as per usual. “What else did they tell you?” he asked.
Sam gave him a smile through his chewing. “I’m a little embarrassed to say it at this point,” he said.
“Do it before I sober up completely.”
“Yeah, okay,” Sam snorted, leaning back. “Um, I guess Ruby gave my number to her sister. Megan?”
“Meg.”
“Right. So she called me about a week ago and, uh…” Sam huffed and shook his head. “Said she had a really good friend who needed to get laid.”
Castiel didn’t say anything, but his fingers curled in, his nails digging into his palms.
“Then I guess she got your other friends—“
“Not friends,” Castiel cut in. “Cousins. Idiot cousins.”
“Right. Your cousins on speakerphone with her, and uh, told me you were a virgin? Who was too insecure to get any?” Sam glanced at Castiel with raised eyebrows as if waiting for a comment, but received none. “So they sort of told me that you’d act like you didn’t want it, but that you were desperate for it.” He exhaled hard and leaned back. “You know, saying it out loud, I’m not sure why I believed them.”
“It was the combined forces of Meg, Gabe, and Balthazar,” Castiel said dully, flicking at a salt packet. He suddenly wasn’t hungry for the remaining third of his burger. “They could each talk their way into the Oval Office, I bet.”
Sam hacked out a laugh, and Castiel glanced over, startled.
“My brother’s like that,” Sam said. “So, anyway, I’m sorry again.”
“No, it’s…” Castiel grasped for the right word then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is what it is.”
Sam tilted his head and his lips parted, but something heavy had settled into Castiel’s bones, and he stood suddenly enough to bang his knee against the counter.
“Here.” He slid his plate in Sam’s direction. “You have the rest.” Sam ticked his head down at the remaining burger. “And here,” Castiel said after a beat. He fetched the wad of bills from his pocket, extracted $40 to cover a ride home, then held the rest out to Sam.
“Dude, no, I can’t,” he protested.
“You’re the one in law school, not me,” Castiel said. His words seemed to be jumbling on the way out. His heart rate starting to pick up, he leaned over and stuffed the wad into Sam’s front pocket. “Bye,” he said before turning and hustling toward the diner’s door.