Ok, Dean admits to himself, it is kind of funny.

He's sitting on the couch next to Balthazar, with Castiel and Sam sitting opposite – because like hell was he going to let himself be left alone with Balthazar (and like hell Castiel was going to leave them alone together). There's a tray of brandies and coffees on the table between them and the levels of awkwardness in the air would probably be able to power the sun.

Sam, for his part, is clearly not very comfortable with the way Balthazar is looking at him and Dean by turns – the look a cat gives a particularly fat and trusting canary.

Castiel is not happy about that look being given to Dean, his death glare has made that quite clear – the kind of glare an enraged racoon would level at a canary thieving cat before it skinned it alive and ate its liver.

Castiel however also looks a little guilty, probably because he isn't getting pissy over Balthazar eyeing Sam like the aforementioned delicious canary.

Sam seems not to have noticed this.

Dean feels a little shamefully cheered by Castiel's fury at Balthazar on his own behalf, but also guilty about feeling happy about it, guiltier still because of Sam's presence, and unnerved by Balthazar entirely.

Balthazar, for his part, seems to have correctly judged all their interpersonal hiccups and is finding the whole situation appallingly hilarious.

So yes, it would have been funny, if Dean was anyone else but himself, and if this was all happening in a movie that someone else owned.

Then it would be freaking hilarious.

"Fancy another?" Balthazar pours Dean another brandy without waiting for a reply. "So, Sam – tell me about Stanford, it sounds a fascinating experience."

"Well it was..." Sam starts, slightly put off by the site of Balthazar's hand sliding over Dean's thigh to squeeze it lightly.

He should try feeling it, Dean thinks sourly at Sam's bug-eyed expression.

"It's a great school obviously." Sam splutters, glancing sideways at Castiel for support, Castiel hurriedly rearranges his features, to signify that of course he wasn't going to leap forwards and remove Balthazar's hand from Dean's thigh through the medium of teeth. "But it uh...well, it didn't have that many...there wasn't really a..."

"Throbbing gay scene?" Balthazar supplies, fingers now idly stroking Dean's thigh, and...ok so he's only fucking human, it does feel kind of nice.

"Not really." Sam says embarrassedly, looking anywhere but at Balthazar's fondling hand.

Castiel can't seem to tear his eyes away. He swallows and his throat rolls dryly, his eyes carrying a mixture of fascination and anger.

Dean squirms under Balthazar's hand, trying to get him to remove it without causing a scene that he'll have to explain later. The hand moves higher up.

"Such a shame." Balthazar takes a sip of warm brandy. "But then, you got lucky anyway, didn't you?"

"Yeah." And the way Sam beams makes Dean shrink with shame. Castiel blushes and downs his own drink. "I guess I kinda did." Sam touches Castiel's hand and links their fingers together – and Dean aches with a loneliness much sharper than thwarted lust could ever hope to be.

"If it's alright with you two." Balthazar addresses Sam and Castiel but quirks an eyebrow at Dean. "I think I'd like Dean to show me the view from the back porch."

Castiel looks like he doesn't know whether to kill Balthazar or maim him first.

Sam blushes like a fourteen year old boy being shoved into the girls room. "Yeah...sure – we were turning in anyway." He smiles at Castiel, lighting up like the proverbial lantern.

Dean takes Balthazar's hand (mostly to get it off his inseam) and leads him out to the decking at the back of the cabin. Balthazar leans on the porch rail and grins like a Cheshire cat.

"Well, that was almost an Oedipal level of awkwardness." He purrs. "You, my friend, are in trouble."

Of course. Dean's inner nihilist sighs. Of course Balthazar would be the one to notice.

Damn the unusually perceptive English. Damn them to hell.

"Yeah, it's a shit load of fun." Dean growls. "Course, the being groped by a stranger part? That just added to the rollicking good time."

Balthazar smirks lasciviously.

"Well, I'm clearly not getting a second date out of this, thought I'd at least give myself something to think about later."

"You're a pervert." Dean's glare is only half admonishing, Balthazar is kind of amusing.

"I'm a bloody saint – compared to the looks that, oh so conflicted friend of our mutual mate Dorothy was giving you – I'm practically a nun."

Dean is sure he only understood about twenty percent of that, and that Balthazar is being purposefully and obstinately British in order to fuck with him.

Balthazar gives him that catty grin again. "You're in love with your brother's squeeze, and he looked like he wanted to bite my hand of for touching you." Balthazar rolls his eyes. "Not that I don't see the attraction, mind you." His eyes glaze in appreciation.

"Cut it out."

"Oh, Never." Balthazar curls his tongue. "But, if you ever get the nerve up to steal Cassy away, let me know in advance so I can get my taffeta out of storage."

"Not happening." Dean drops into a cane chair, feeling drunk and tired all of a sudden.

"It should." Balthazar leans back against the rail and looks up at the sky. "In all seriousness, him and Sam – it's not going to last."

"Yes, it will. If I've got a say in it." Dean glowers at him.

"You haven't and it won't." Balthazar licks his lips. "They haven't slept together yet – you can tell...well maybe you can't – but human beings like me can."

Dean can't deny the thrill that gives him. He'd like to, but he just can't.

"Grin all you like, Casanova." Balthazar leers, "Nothing's happening until one of you realises the obvious."

"Which is?"

"That Sam, much as you both love him, is not in this relationship – you and Cassy are." Balthazar drops off of the rail and shivers artfully. "That or that I would make a great alternative."

"I'll pass." Dean smirks. "but thanks."

"No problem. Better than the Royal Variety." Balthazar winks.

"Are you even English? Or did you just get hit with some kind of ray?"

"Limey through and through." Balthazar salutes. "And I'll be taking my leave now I think."

Dean shows Balthazar to the door and closes it behind him, leaning against it afterwards.

"I was kind of waiting for him to leave."

Dean turns around and Castiel is standing in the darkened living room, terry cloth robe open over his cotton tee and sleeping pants.

"Really." Dean's throat is dry all of a sudden.

Castiel pads towards him on bare feet. "I'm really sorry for being...well, I know I didn't handle that well."

"Maybe just bit of a carnivorous stare." Dean mutters.

Castiel shrugs his thin shoulders. "I couldn't help it." He licks his lips and Dean's heart stops. Castiel is right in front of him, sleep mussed and smelling softly of clean pyjamas and warm skin. "I just wish..." Castiel touches the front of Dean's shirt lightly. "I wish I had the right, you know? I wish I had the right, to tell people like Balthazar where to go...that you're mine."

Dean's chest feels tight.

"But you're not."Castiel frowns. "But I wish..."

And then Cas's lips ghost across his, and it's just a slight rub of warm, rough lips and a slip of wet skin. But it sets Dean alive and alight, and all he wants right now is to take Castiel up to bed and curl up next to him.

Castiel moves back and lips his lips again, chasing the taste of Dean across his skin.

"I'm so sorry...but you know I can't stay." Castiel says sadly. And Dean knows what that means.

"No..."

"I know, the worst thing I can do to you is hurt Sam...but this will get worse the longer I leave it." Castiel steps backwards. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight and...tomorrow I'll tell Sam I have to go."

"You know that's it right?" Dean says. "I can't...not to Sam."

"Hence the kiss." Castiel smiles sadly. "Take care of yourself Dean. I mean it." He says gently.

Castiel goes back out into the other room and Dean goes down to the utility room.

He supposes he should be relieved.

But he can't really feel anything beyond the prickling in his lips and the shiver of deprivation in his chest.