A little fluffy piece between Castiel and Balthazar. No slash, just cuteness.

I don't own Castiel or Balthazar -sobs-

'Castiel!' Balthazar landed on the soft grass and looked around. Apart from the trees swaying through the almost silent breeze, there was no one here. He made a small noise of annoyance and took to the air again, mahogany wings guiding him as he cut through the air at a speed faster than light, careful not to collide with another passing angel. He dropped and touched down lightly, bending his knees as his bare feet felt the cold stone of the ground. He turned around again, searching quickly yet thoroughly. Ah, there it was.

Balthazar reached out and touched the dry bark of the tree, identifying a dimming residue of grace. One he recognised well. He closed his eyes and searched his own grace, internally, trying hard to picture where the rest of the grace he had found was now.

His wings took to the sky again and followed the grace and it took him to snow covered plane; bare of any life... Except one bright spark in the distance. Balthazar flew easily through the frosted wind and touched down behind a dark figure.

Balthazar looked at the figure with pity, stroking the cocoon of black feathers which shifted under his warm touch but didn't unravel.

'Balthazar,' said the voice inside the feathers quietly.

'What's happened?' Balthazar asked, releasing some grace so that the wind stopped howling.

'I want to be left alone,' said the muffled voice.

'That's not an answer,' Balthazar sat down next to the figure; black feathers tickling the side of his face and hair.

'Castiel, talk to me,' Balthazar pleaded, stroking down a feather. Castiel shifted his wings again, allowing Balthazar to see him, but still covering himself from the outside world.

Balthazar wasn't shocked to see that Castiel's face was red and his cerulean eyes were swollen and moist. His bottom lip trembled. Castiel's gripped his knees tighter underneath his chin. Balthazar wrapped a reassuring wing around Castiel's own.

'Who was it?' Balthazar knew what this was about. He wanted to know who had been teasing Castiel again.

'It doesn't matter,' Castiel wiped a hand to his eyes. He rarely cried anymore, now that he wasn't a child; he was meant to show more backbone in these types of situations. When he was younger, he thought he would grow up to be strong like Michael or Lucifer, but instead he grew up to be an outcast. He hadn't cried in a long while, but that was because whenever he was teased he had reminded himself that his older brothers would never have cried. They would stand up for themselves. Be the bigger seraph.

Instead, Castiel was back in his lonely field, crying like an infant.

'It does matter,' Balthazar said in a harder voice. Castiel was lucky to have a friend and brother like Balthazar. He had never teased Castiel. He had always been there for him.

'Was it Uriel?'

'No.'

'Jophiel?'

'No.'

'Then who?'

'Gabriel,' Castiel said and his voice shook again.

Well that was a shock. Usually Gabriel was the only one apart from Balthazar that stuck up for Castiel.

'Did he actually say that to you?'

'Well... No... Uriel told me that Gabriel said to him-'

'Oh well there you go. Since when do you believe anything Uriel says?'

'But-'

'He was lying to you Castiel. You know Gabriel would never say anything bad about you. Ever.'

'Everyone else does,' Castiel mumbled, looking at his toes.

Balthazar pursed his lips looking at Castiel's wings; the source of the teasing. Castiel had deep ebony wings with a hint of blue on his softer, down feathers. They were slightly too big for his body at the moment, making him seem smaller. But, in Balthazar's opinion, they were strong and beautiful. He looked at his own mahogany wings. They were the perfect size for his body and though he didn't know the meaning behind the colour, he loved them all the same. The ends of his primary wings were sharp and eagle-like, with a wide wing span. His down feathers were almost honey coloured, reflecting his hair.

He had never seen wings as dark as Castiel's. No one had. And that's why Castiel was teased.

Because he was just too different.

'Everyone else needs to learn to shut their traps.'

'Traps?'

'Mouths.'

'Oh,' Castiel looked at Balthazar's wings longingly.

'Cas, your wings are perfect. There isn't anything wrong with them.'

'They're ugly.'

'I think they look beautiful.'

'They're black. And dull. And too big.'

'Hey now, have you seen Michaels? His are huge. And you know what? He isn't complaining. His big wings make him strong. And his are blue... A dark blue. Almost black,' Okay maybe now Balthazar was stretching the truth, but it did seem to make Castiel feel better.

Castiel half smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

'But Michael is an archangel. No one says anything bad about his wings... And of course they're big; he has six of them.'

'Well... maybe he's overcompensating,' muttered Balthazar.

Castiel looked confused.

'Forget it. Look, have you ever thought that perhaps Uriel is just jealous?'

'Why would he be?'

'Cas, don't tell anyone this... But I'm jealous of your wings,' Balthazar lied but it worked. Castiel's eyes went wide.

'What?'

'Yeah,' Balthazar feigned embarrassment, 'I never really told you, did I? Well I've always been jealous of yours. They're... intimidating. If I didn't know you, and you crossed my path? I'd probably cry for Dad.'

Castiel looked dumbfounded, and then a small, genuine smile crossed his face. He looked around his cocoon and stroked a hand down the wall of black feathers, down to the tinted blue down-feathers. Balthazar gave him a little smile.

'You have nothing to be ashamed of. You might not have golden wings like Gabriel or six of them like Michael, but yours are absolutely perfect for you. You should be proud of them,' Balthazar's smile grew wider as Castiel let his wings stretch out, his left black wing curling around Balthazar's mahogany right.

'Thanks Balthazar.'

'No problem, Cassie. So, wanna go kick Uriel's ass?'

Castiel rolled his eyes and jumped up, pulling Balthazar with him, wings expanding to take flight.

'I have a better idea.'

'Which is?'

The Host woke up the next morning to a thunderous yell that echoed in the form of thunder and took the shape of black lightning. Uriel stormed through, causing the ground to shake, cursing almost to the point of blaspheming... bright fuchsia and purple wings trailing after him.