For those of you who are interested, I uploaded Chapter 11 with some additional content because I forgot about Lu's accent thing...errrr.

I wrote this all in the course of about three hours, so I'm overall quite pleased with how this turned out. I had most of it written in my head, so it wasn't too hard. Hopefully I'll update "Finishing Touches" next but we'll see. I'm in a strange place with that (BUT I PROMISE TO FINISH IT OKAY).

Many thanks to Mackintosh-14, egyptian1995, Chloe, IslanderBib, EllaMichelle, Keefer, kb18142, Kathrin J Pearl, and Sexy. Lil. Emo for your lovely reviews to last chapter, and thanks to all of you for being so patient! I've had a hectic few weeks!


Lu woke up shortly after seven with a pleasant ache throughout his body. That in and of itself was unusual, but as he shifted beneath the sheets and opened his eyes, he realized he wasn't in his new room—he was in Balthazar's. He grinned at the sudden recollection of the night before rolled over to face the singer.

Except next to him, the bed was empty. Balthazar was gone.

Feeling more annoyed than anything, Lu sat up and looked around. Well, wherever Balthazar was (most likely making breakfast; Lu was typically irritated by "morning" people as Balthazar seemed to be, but none of them had ever made him breakfast before), he'd left Lu with the perfect opportunity to poke around his room.

He quickly located his boxers on the floor and wriggled into them, taking a moment to look around after he did so. His clothing—including his shirt, which he distinctly recalled being stripped off in the hallway—was strewn on the floor and he gathered it up. From what he could tell, Balthazar had already picked up his own clothes, as well as made his side of the bed. Lu set his clothes on the bed and rubbed his eyes for a moment.

Somehow, Balthazar had been able to wake up, clean up, and duck out of the room without waking him. He must have been exhausted to sleep through something like that. As he grinned at that thought—as well as remembering last night's events—he peered around at the posters tacked to the walls.

He hadn't noticed them during that first drunken, cursory glance that night they were all over here, but then again, the room's centerpiece had enraptured him. Now that he was alone, he was fully able to appreciate the Misfits poster that had obviously been moved several times (maybe from his home in England, judging by its battered state), Alkaline Trio next to the closet door, Sex Pistols at a rakish angle near the window, The Damned on the back of the door. The mirror had photos taped to it, photos mostly of Balthazar but with various other subjects next to him. Most of them were people he didn't recognize, but one had contained Balthazar and Castiel with what seemed to be Perdition in the background. Castiel had a stupid grin on his face, one Lu had never seen before, and Balthazar was kissing his cheek with an equally stupid grin. Lu felt a twinge of jealousy, but he reminded himself that Castiel was dating Dean and that dating a bandmate was inherently idiotic anyway.

The other photograph that he pinpointed was one of the full band in the midst of a performance. Lu grinned in spite of himself. Dismissing the altogether stupid look on his own face, they looked good. Balthazar seemed to fill the whole picture, and in the background, there was Castiel and Gabriel leaning against each others' backs and rocking out. Raphael had a strangely triumphant look; he'd clearly just nailed a drum solo. Lu couldn't recall the picture being taken, but he knew lots of people probably took pictures at their shows and someone had probably sent it to Balthazar, although how they'd gotten his email address or phone number or address was beyond him. Maybe he had another friend who attended shows. After all, there was still a lot of Balthazar's time that remained unaccounted for, time when he wasn't home or with the band.

Lu finally slunk out of Balthazar's room, half-surprised he hadn't already been interrupted, and went to his own room to put on some clothes he hadn't worn for the past two days.

Once he changed into a T-shirt and basketball shorts (not that he played basketball; he had the height for it but not the talent), he went to the kitchen, following the lingering scent of tea.

Oh. The kitchen was empty, too. There was a note on the table along with a spare house key, though.

Went to work early. Good luck on your interview. –B

The note was almost purposely vague. Those two sentences conveyed nothing but sheer neutrality, which didn't sit well with Lu. He couldn't get a gauge for how Balthazar felt about what happened the night before. Now more annoyed than before—not to mention a bit confused—Lu set himself to the task of preparing his own breakfast. It was something he hadn't usually done before starting to live with Balthazar, but the Brit had got him into the habit and now he was hungry. It was an irritating realization.

After microwaving the remainder of the tea that Balthazar had so kindly left for him, he scrambled some eggs and made toast. He wasn't as skilled a cook as the singer, but he figured he wasn't half bad, considering he hadn't lived by himself in two years. Eve had tried to teach him how to cook a few things besides grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, but she hadn't been the greatest teacher and everything she said fell out of his head before he could internalize it. Somehow, though, he'd been able to pick up on the few things Balthazar had done while hung-over and exhausted. Admittedly, breakfast wasn't complicated, but even marinating chicken had been beyond him before this.

Lu drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited for the toast to pop up. The smell of Balthazar's menthol cigarettes still hung in the air, but far from making his stomach turn, it just emphasized the blonde's absence. He should have been there, but he wasn't—and Lu couldn't figure out how he should feel about it. He did know that he didn't like it, though.


After breakfast, he showered, shaved, and changed his clothes again—this time, into khakis and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. He left his hair alone since he was going to have to put a helmet on anyway and slid the house key into his pocket. He made absolutely sure to clean up what little mess he'd made in the kitchen and, with a quick pat-down of his pockets to ensure he had his wallet, phone, and keys, left the house at nine. It would take him forty-five minutes or so to bike to the Radio Shack that Castiel worked at, but he wanted to be sure he made it with time to spare. Showing up late for a job interview was definitely not good.

Although if he did end up nailing the job, he was going to start making the trip in street clothes so he didn't fuck up his work clothes. A round trip of an hour and a half left quite an opportunity to wreck his clothes, and then there was the possibility of unpredictable rain. No, all in all, unless the insurance company coughed up for a new car soon, he'd be biking until they finally got their signing bonus.

Still, the thought of a signing bonus perked him up enough so he actually sort of enjoyed the trip into the city. It was a pain in the ass going up the two hills and the sun was starting to gain a bit of intensity, but it didn't get bad until he was about eight blocks away from the store, and by then, he had buildings to keep him in relative shade.

He found a bike rack about a block from the store and locked his bike, slipping the helmet onto the chain as well. He walked the rest of the way, arriving with five minutes left, which was fortunate since Castiel had stationed himself outside the store to presumably keep an eye out for him.

"Hey, Cas. What's up?"

"You cut it close," Castiel said, and Lu couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. If the guitarist had a sense of humor (and it sometimes seemed that he did), he'd mastered the art of the deadpan delivery.

"I prefer to think of it as I kept everyone in suspense," Lu joked.

A small twitch at the corner of Castiel's mouth indicated a smile as he turned back to the store. "My boss is a man named Joshua. He's in the back." Castiel pointed to a slightly-shorter man with a serene sort of face. "Just tell him who you are and that I sent you."

Lu nodded once, tucked in his shirt (he suddenly wished he'd thought to wear a belt; he looked like an unemployable mess), and went to the back.

Joshua turned to look him over before Lu could even speak. "I'm assuming you're Lu Pellegrino?"

Lu nodded. "Yeah—yes. That's me. Castiel sent me over."

"Hmm." Lu didn't know what to make of the "hmm" but waited until Joshua nodded once. "Joshua Milligan. It's good to meet you."

"Good to meet you, too."

"So, Lu, if you don't mind, what caused your current unemployment?"

Lu hadn't been expecting this question until a little later, so he blinked in surprise. "Oh. Um, the store was making cuts and I was on the short list."

"So if they weren't making cuts…"

"I'd still be working there."

"What kind of store?"

"Grocery store. I worked produce. I was there for about two years."

"Do you think they'd recommend you if I were to call and ask?"

Lu very nearly said "probably" until he remembered that, as positive as it sounded, it was still a flaky answer. "Definitely. They never complained about my work performance."

"Never late?"

"Maybe once, but my ex had just totaled my car."

Joshua chuckled softly. "You have an alternate means of transportation now, I'm assuming?"

"Yes. I have my bike."

"Tattoos?"

He had ten counting the huge FUCK emblazoned on his arm. He made a mental note to dig out all his long-sleeved shirts to wear under his work polo—assuming he got the job. "I keep them all covered up."

"So that's a yes."

"Yes. Ten."

Joshua nodded again, and for a second, Lu worried that he'd just damned himself. "Well, Castiel speaks highly of you, so I'll tell you what. I'll put you on the schedule for next week when he's working. He'll give you some training and we'll decide after that if we're going to keep you or not. It's a big difference between the produce department and the iPad rack. Sound fair?"

In Lu's opinion, it was more than fair. Then again, he'd been getting fucked over at nearly every turn for the past few weeks, so getting a break like this was a relief. He nodded with a grin. "Sounds great. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Talk to Castiel on your way out and find out when he works. Be here a half an hour before the shift actually starts on the first day—I'll have some paperwork for you."

Still grinning, Lu nodded again. "No problem."

Joshua turned away, the end of the conversation clear, but Lu barely noticed. He nearly skipped over to where Castiel had just finished up with a customer.

"How did it go?"

"He says I'm going to be working with you all next week. Training and all that crap." He could hardly contain his excitement. "When do you work next week?"

"Monday, at eight-thirty."

"Alright. He told me to be here a half an hour before then, so…"

"For the legal aspect?"

"Yeah. Paperwork, he said."

Castiel nodded. "Wonderful. I look forward to it."

Lu's grin widened. "See you at practice."

"Tonight at seven, correct?"

"Yep." With one last wave, Lu sailed out of the store and back down the street.

Relief had flooded through him at the realization that he'd found a new job so quickly. He was practically walking on air as he crossed the street and finally stopped about a block away from the store. He leaned up against an empty bike rack and checked his phone, which contained a new text from Ray.

How'd it go?

Lu grinned again. I start training next week, he sent back and pocketed his phone again.

And then it hit him. No fucking way. He stood up and turned around, staring at the spot where his bike should have been.

It wasn't there anymore, though. In place of his bike was the remnants of his bike chain, lock included—why whatever motherfucker it was had cut the chain and not the lock was beyond him—with his helmet laying on the concrete next to the rack.

Some fucker had stolen his bike!

Rage bubbling up, he picked up his helmet and nearly screamed in frustration. Great, not only had his locked bike been jacked, but the asshole had cracked his helmet in the process.

Just when he thought his life was on an upswing, shit like this happened. He picked up what was left of his bike chain and was sorely tempted to whip it against the closest wall in frustration, but he balled his hands into fists until he was able to calm himself down. It would figure if he accidently clipped someone with the chain and ended up getting arrested.

Once the proverbial red had faded from his vision, he gritted his teeth and called Ray. Unsurprisingly, the call went to voicemail. Ray was working this morning, too. He knew Castiel was working, so he called Gabriel next. He didn't answer, either, but Lu had no potential explanation for that.

He sighed and finally called Balthazar. The motherfucker picked up on the third ring.

"What happened now?" Balthazar asked without preamble.

"My asshole ripped off my bike."

There was a beat of silence. "I see. Have you already had your interview?"

"Yes," he practically spat. "I got the job, thank you very much."

"Congratulations. So I'm assuming you need a pickup, then."

"Yeah. I do."

"Alright. The one on 32nd Street, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Give me fifteen minutes."


He was only ten minutes in arriving, but Lu had managed to work himself back into a frothing rage again—this time, at the world in general. He had to figure out how to get to the store now, and he was hesitant to ask Castiel, who got a ride from Dean anyway.

"There's always the trolley," Balthazar suggested, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lu was having none of his shit today. He was actually fairly close to punching Balthazar in the face at that comment. It wouldn't solve anything, but it would make him feel better, at least for a few minutes. Still, he restrained himself. The man was driving, and it was possible that a punch to the face would cause him to veer off the road. "I guess," Lu finally ground out. He didn't relish the idea of taking the bus to the transfer station and then the trolley from there, but unless he got his car money…

"Don't worry," Balthazar said quietly, the mirth fading away. "You'll be fine."

Lu felt himself finally slumping back in his seat. He didn't know how or why, but Balthazar's gentle reassurance soothed him a bit. "Yeah, I know. It's just irritating."

"That's life," the singer said, and as Lu ran his thumb over the chain in his hand, he wondered why those words from anyone else would piss him off, but from Balthazar, he could handle hearing them.