Balthazar has been in plenty of fights. There was the first civil war, Lucifer and a third of the Host rebelling and generally causing a fair bit of chaos. Oh and of course the rather lovely time the fourth gate to Hell broke open just before the birth of the Christ child. They never told the soldiers just how ugly the Hellish sentries were. Goat heads were the least of his concern. Why would anyone ever think fur and tentacles was a good mix? He owed Castiel a few debts after that battle and subsequent victory.
One could also never forget the second civil war, Raphael pushing for the apocalypse after a few puny humans derailed it. In his opinion, if three (technically four with Cas being fallen and all) humans could crash the party, it wasn't worth having to begin with.
In all his long life he'd seen much more than any human could comprehend. Even some of the younger angels looked at him in awe, though admittedly being the second in command for Heaven's general was probably also to blame for that. There were few battles he would categorize as splendid and even fewer that were downright glorious.
Sam Winchester? Now that fight was something else altogether. Seeing Castiel with Dean he thought he'd begun to understand why his friend fought so hard. Dean's soul was a rather brilliant spectacle. More than worthy of an archangel's attention. It miffed him that most of the host disregarded Sam. The demon blood, he supposed. Though anyone with willpower and loyalty enough to overpower an archangel was definitely worthy of praise and attention.
The first time he'd met Sam, the man had no soul. The first time they had sex was rough, wild, destroyed a hotel room and damn near made Cas run him through with a sword when he found out. He'd quipped that Cas may be the future king but he certainly didn't have exclusive rights to the Winchesters. If only Dean were so easily calmed.
One thing he would always admire about humans was their ingenuity. Doused in holy oil, bound with sigils and threatened with a zippo. It was a miracle Cas had lasted as long as he did if that was the way Dean treated every angel he met.
The sex with Sam continued and as it went on he went and did something stupid. He developed feelings for the little bastard. Ah, the grand caveat to his newly found freedom. Emotions. Castiel had used the words terrifying and confusing. That was a laughable understatement. The entire ordeal was only made worse by the fact that Sam literally couldn't reciprocate. So, in the end, Balthazar chose to do the smart thing, to keep his damn mouth shut and keep Sam alive as best he could.
Perhaps he grew curious whenever Balthazar decided to heal him, but the sex was usually enough to keep him from looking too close.
Enter Death, one of very few beings that make Balthazar want to piss himself. He would have stabbed Atropos herself, but Death was someone not to be trifled with. Yet another reason he was surprised Dean was even still alive, angelic aid or no. Seeing Sam complete with a soul was... startling, really. He'd grown used to the luminosity of Dean's, bubbling just below the surface and flaring when he was highly emotional.
But Sam's... even through the taint of Azazel's blood it was terrifying in its intensity. He was still such a good man, despite the sludge that could easily swallow him up. Why did no one ever warn him against emotions? Damned parasites. They grew like larvae in his gut and in his chest, souring everything he did. Of course Sam didn't remember him. Why would he? Death didn't make mistakes.
He worried for Sam when he started poking the wall, trying to regain his memories. Apparently Castiel left out the bit with the seven week sex streak, instead highlighting events such as the hunt that left nearly ten people dead in a building in some backwoods area. Maybe it would have been easier if he had known. No matter now.
He betrayed Castiel, told the boys he'd spy on his best friend for them. Why? Because Sam asked him to. Again, bastard.
Apparently that was what truly tipped him off. Perhaps at some point he'd tell them that summonings weren't pleasant, maybe then they'd decide to ask nicely and pray. The next thing he knew he was face to face with a very curious and insistent younger Winchester. He would have just flown off, if the moose's damnable wolf of a brother hadn't taught him the sigils to pin his wings to his back. Human ingenuity, stuff of nightmares.
Now, he'd expected a lengthy conversation in which he attempted to convince Sam that his attitude was just his angelic good will and the fact that he was friends with Castiel and—
"Why didn't you tell me we had sex?" Oh. Well then.
"What would you've liked me to say, Sam? Oh, by the way we were fucking for seven weeks behind our brother's backs while they did the same and judged us for it? Damned hypocrites." Sam grimaced at the mention of Dean and Castiel, but was looking at him oddly by the end of the sentence. "What?"
"You're angry." Balthazar resisted rolling his eyes. Winchester boys, both frighteningly intelligent and stunningly stupid all at once.
He sighed and took a moment to think, the situation was delicate. "You don't remember breakfast every morning."
Even as he tried for nonchalance he knew Sam wasn't buying it. "Really. Why didn't you tell me?"
Balthazar looked at Sam, the light mood he'd wanted to create just wouldn't stick. He sighed again and ran a hand over his face, the forced humor drained from his features. Sam was still just watching him, eyes searching over him and to anyone outside it may have seemed as though Sam was the angel, that he could reach in and read Balthazar's thoughts instead of it being the other way around. "You're a bastard, Sam Winchester." Sam's brows creased and his expression was a mix of confusion and offense. "You know I went billions of years without feeling a damn thing other than camaraderie and the love of Heaven. My every move was watched by an all-powerful dictator, but I was fine in my existence. Then you and your idiot brother got a bright idea to save the world and you rope my best friend into it. For the life of me I didn't know why Cassie did it. I couldn't understand what was so special. After you all succeeded and the war started, I had sex with more women than you've probably met in your entire life and I still could not understand Castiel's attachment to humanity. And then you." He stopped before he said something he'd regret, cursing under his breath as he broke Sam's stare to look at one of the sigils painted onto the floor.
Sam's face turned soft, open, he was being sympathetic and Balthazar didn't know if it pissed him off or endeared him to this human even further. "You knew I couldn't feel anything for you, why'd you stick around?"
"What was I supposed to do, Sam? Let you die? Then I'd have nothing, which, don't get me wrong is just fine when if you've never had anything but..." He let the sentence die, trying not to catch the way the man's soul sparked in his eyes and made them glow. Human perception must have been so dull to miss that kind of sight.
"But when you have had something—"
"Then it's just entirely unacceptable." Sam smirked at him and Balthazar was half tempted to root around in his head just to figure out what the hell was going on. Under any other circumstances he would, but not only had he made a promise to Sam weeks before that he wouldn't, he also wasn't sure he wanted an answer to the questions he had.
"You know, I uh... I was worried you didn't tell me because it just wasn't important to you. Seems kind of stupid now." Sam laughed humorlessly and met his eyes, only holding his gaze for a few scant seconds before glancing down at the same sigil Balthazar had been eyeing. He produced a pocket knife and scratched away just enough paint to break it. It only took thirty seconds at most to have the room unbound, but watching made it seem so much longer. The incremental shifts of power as he was freed sent a shock through him. Every feather that was lifted from its place only made him more keenly aware of Sam moving around him.
It had been three weeks since Sam's soul was returned to him and in all that time Balthazar had been respectful, he'd stayed away and kept to himself. If he'd known how much that would hurt he'd never have teased Castiel for his fledgling pining over Dean.
Sam walked by him, the last line of paint scraped up and he reached out to him, his fingers not even able to meet as they circled his wrist. The young man's face was questioning, uncertainty bleeding from his eyes into the worry lines carved into his skin.
When the silence stretched on Sam decided to speak. "No one told me, in case you're wondering. I just started remembering a few days ago. At first it was just small stuff, praying, you healing me. Yesterday I remembered our first time." Balthazar didn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them Sam had stepped closer. "I was too rough." He sounded so apologetic it painful.
"I could handle it." In fact Balthazar was probably the only thing that really could handle however rough Sam wanted to be.
"Doesn't make it right." Sam leaned forward and their lips met, soft and tentative, the exact opposite of how their first kiss was. In truth, that small press of lips felt more like a first kiss than it had any right to.
The softness didn't last more than a few seconds before Sam's tongue was squirming into his mouth. Balthazar relented, letting his body relax under the pressure of the tension breaking. Large hands slid possessively down his flank, pulling at the hem of his shirt. It was all but ripped off, the kiss broken to accommodate the action.
"Sam, you don't have t—"
"Shut up, Balthazar." Those were the last word spoken by either for a while.
Sam's shirt ended up thrown across the shed they were holed up in, the zipper of his pants literally ripped apart at the bottom. Balthazar wasn't sure if he'd fix it or let Sam walk out like that. Dean's glare and threats would be well worth it. His own pants were hastily shoved down his thighs, Sam's thumb nails scratching him harshly as his underwear were given the same treatment.
His knees came close to buckling when thick, warm fingers wrapped around him, squeezing and rubbing in a way he'd missed more than he cared to admit. After a moment he returned the favor, grabbing Sam in kind and getting to work. Sam groaned and smiled viciously, nipping at Balthazar's lips before moving to kiss and suck on his neck.
Sam's mouth latched onto his neck, slight pain contrasting the pleasure further south on his body beautifully. Balthazar could feel the bruised forming beneath his partner's lips. "You little bastard you better not mark me."
Sam laughed, the tail end caught on a gasp when Balthazar's thumb circled the tip of his cock. "Who's fault will it be if it stays?" So damn smug. The man was on the dangerous border between being perfect and being an abomination. Balthazar wasn't sure which prospect excited him more.
He could feel that familiar, wondrous heat building at the base of his spine, a feeling so close to free fall in flight that he was sure his wings were flaring out to catch him. Sam kissed his ear and breathed softly against the shell, a soft moan undid him, the heat in his belly spilling out onto Sam's hand. His grip faltered and Sam took over, his come smearing over the man's skin in the handful of strokes it took for him to finish. A shaky groan was all the warning Balthazar got before Sam was coming on him, sticky white fluid dripping slowly down his skin. It was arousing and nearly insulting and he enjoyed it far too much.
Sam was smirking at him when he finally looked up from the ropes of come dribbling down into his pubic hair. "You came on me."
Sam's smirk widened into a grin and he kissed Balthazar, laughter bubbling up when they parted. "Gonna smite me for it?"
"It's a thought."
They both smiled, the threat so empty it may as well not even have been said. "We're doing this again." He was so sure, so confident. After three weeks of uncertainty it was a nice reprieve.
"Of course. You know how to reach me." Whatever battle he was fighting with Sam Winchester was surely going to be the death of him.