/ / Back in business, I hope! I think I needed a good break from writing this fic, but I hope things can get back on track. We're nearly halfway through, so here's to hoping it'll all just flow. Again, thank you all so much for the continued support—I could never, in a trillion of the most detailed words, tell you how much I appreciate it!

11th of April

Friday

6:22 PM

It was truly amazing how fast two weeks could pass by. The calendar marked the days, the sun gave the signs of each new day, but when the time was spent with someone you truly considered your best friend, it was difficult to keep tabs on the passing time. As the saying went, time flies when you're having fun. And it seemed like only yesterday Custiel and Michelle had finally mended the breach in their friendship by watching several Harry Potter films in a row.

Not to mention, without so much as a word from Tenth, Custiel could almost consider these past two weeks to be far too comfortable and easy. Well, beyond the usual drone of his dull job, but that was a constant he was continually growing used to. Almost like he were digging himself deeper into the rut. Put someone deep enough into something and they won't know which way is out anymore. And Custiel really felt to that point, even if he didn't consciously know it.

Although Custiel was still understandably upset about what Tenth had done, it'd been such a smooth couple weeks that it was easy to forget about the incident more often than not. Even if Michelle had tried to bring it up a time or two, carefully attempting to coax Custiel into talking things over with his brother, it wasn't hard to swiftly decline. She'd been a bit bummed out about that, as well as Custiel's agreement to try and get along with Tenth falling through, but she seemed to be understanding about it. Maybe she was finally starting to realize just how much baggage their past carried and how much it affected them ever having a proper relationship. It was for the better. It had to be.

With how well the past weeks had gone, the past few days had been in stark contrast. They'd been dull, routine, and filled with nothing but an expected schedule. Michelle had a lot of extra work to pick up on lately, leaving her with very little time to do much of anything that wasn't related to her internship. So Custiel was left to the usual drone of work he'd come to know for the past four years, much to his displeasure. Any kind of distraction was better than this.

6:31 PM

Tap, tap, tap, tap; it was all that filled the room at that moment. Custiel's black ink pen bobbed against his desk nervously as he was on hold with a third party representative. Although the being on hold wasn't what made him nervous. Ida, staring him down with arms crossed, wavy hair (that was putting it politely; it looked more unkempt than anything else) down in black strands along her white button-up blouse is what made him nervous. Even on a Friday like today, Custiel could very usually call Ida orderly and tidy. But today, she almost seemed to be in a hungover state. Even coming in a bit late (as she had increasingly done so as of late), there was certainly not a single thing about her that was orderly or tidy. Maybe her intent gaze, but even that seemed clouded over with something like raw impatience.

There was obviously something going on with her lately. But Custiel didn't quite want to ask, knowing it was really none of his business and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know. If he had to deduct any kind of reason at all, signs certainly pointed to Bill, Ida's 'new man'. In her fervent ways, she would often mention that Bill would take her out some nights to a myriad of places, more often than not to have drinks. So he could only assume that she'd been spending a bit too much time with Bill, and it was beginning to show. In a way, he was beginning to worry. That if this were to continue, it would only grow worse, as it evidently had the more it went on. Yet, again, it was none of his business and there was nothing he could do anyhow.

It wasn't as if it was doing any kind of harm to her mood anyway. Ida always seemed to act like she was hungover; grouchy and snappy. Except he figured she was a little more moody this way. And that was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed that much.

"Right, yeah, still here," Custiel finally spoke up after a several minute long wait, almost caught off guard by the female voice on the other end. "Alright, great. 28th of April works great, she'll be there."

Custiel's eyes intermittently switched between the documents before him on his desk and Ida, still intently watching him, "Thank you. Bye."

The moment the phone clacked as Custiel hung it up, Ida was grabbing a nearby empty chair—a simple fold up chair they've kept in the office as some sort of backup plan that Custiel wasn't entirely sure of—and folding it out just beside Custiel's desk. Immediately, he was confused, opening his mouth to question just what she was doing, but couldn't find the right words until she'd settled herself into the chair.

"Ah… D'you need something, Ida?" Custiel asked cautiously, confusedly.

Ida remained in silence for a moment or two, her eyes still watching him intently, "I need you to do me a favor, Lungbarrow."

Custiel really wasn't sure what this approach was all about, but what choice did he have other than to nod and say, "Alright, I'll do my best… What is it?"

"Can you stay behind an extra hour or two? I need to take care of some things."

There was something about her voice. Despite her intent gaze, her voice was almost contrastingly pleading, almost as if she were begging for water after a drought-filled summer. Custiel figured he probably shouldn't ask just what these 'things' were, but after all the years of Ida poking into his business, he figured it was fair enough.

"What things?" Custiel asked tentatively yet curiously.

"Bill wants to meet up for a drink," Ida said almost curtly. "I need you to stay."

If Custiel had to be honest, he absolutely didn't want to stay any longer than he needed to. In fact, he should already be leaving just right now. Adding onto how dull and mind numbing these past days had been, this wasn't a way he wanted to start his weekend. Then again, how would he start his weekend? Going back to an empty flat for tea and telly? Not exactly ideal, but it was better than this. But he feels like he can't say no.

Custiel began again after a pause, "Well, I mean, I don't know, I kind of have a, ah… Thing I need to get to." He could only hope she wouldn't ask for more details. He wasn't even sure what that pressing thing was.

"Lungbarrow," Ida insisted with a stronger tone than before. "I need you to stay here and take care of things for just a while longer."

He gave a sigh, "Why not jus' go after work?" Like everyone else, Custiel added silently.

"Look, Lungbarrow, if I don't go now, then Bill won't want to go out tonight. At all."

She was using his last name quite excessively. And she only did that when she really meant something. So it wasn't like he could see her as using this as an excuse for something else. She was being completely frank about it. It almost seemed desperate and pleading, something really new and unexpected. Custiel had never quite seen her like this before. Maybe she's still drunk, he thought to himself, really starting to ponder such a possibility.

After a moment of hesitation, he gave in, "Alright, alright. I'll.. Stay."

"Think of it as repayment for allowing you to leave early last month," she said with a bit more of an upturn in her voice that could only be interpreted as victory, the small curve of her lips only cementing that.

There was no way he could get out of that one. So here he would stay for the next couple hours, resigning himself to a fate he'd created a month ago. He couldn't say it wasn't worth it, though. Because it was. That was the day he'd gotten to see Michelle again after more than ten years. Definitely worth it.

"Remember to lock up the office before you leave," Ida warned him, her sense of authority remaining firm despite her previous desperate demeanor. She was quick to pop into her portion of the office, emerging not a minute later with a pea coat as black as her hair, bag around her shoulder, and a discerning eye watching Custiel as she stepped to the door. "I expect you'll do just fine on your own."

"Yeah, 'course," he agreed with a small, unenthusiastic nod. "Have fun."

What looked like an attempt at a smile formed on Ida's lips just moments before she slipped out of the door, leaving Custiel alone in the office space. He waited, one second, two seconds, three…

A deep breath entered Custiel before it quickly left his lungs, with it, his body seeming to deflate and relax—more like slump—into his chair. Hazel hues penetrated into the stack of organized chaos on his desk, almost as though his stare would will any extra paper work to just be done and dealt with right then. But, of course, that would only be in a perfect world. Or perhaps a comic book world. Was it sad that Custiel wished to have a super power of willing work to be done with his mind? It was petty, but right now, he could go for a bit of that.

"Why do I still put up with this bloody job," he muttered to himself under his breath, almost as though he were afraid his desk was wired up to catch the stray confession. Really, though, he meant to ask why he puts up with Ida for a boss. But 'job' just seemed to be a catch all for his current daily woes. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about her ordering him about. Until Monday, that was. He'd take what he could get.

Sitting up a bit straighter, he looked about the small space, the greyness of it all seeming to blend into one mesh. His eyes wandered until they'd met with the small doorway to Ida's portion of the office. Seeing as each their workspaces connected to one another, it was no more than just a few feet away from where he sat now. And he'd gotten an, admittedly, silly idea. But he'd always wanted to try it.

Custiel stood, making his way to the threshold of Ida's office, looking about to make sure no one would see what he was about to do, despite knowing full and well no one could. He took the leap, stepping into Ida's office and rounded over to her chair behind her expensive looking desk. Certainly much nicer and sturdier than his. And the chair was as well, of course.

Without another moment of hesitation, he sat down in the leather swivel chair, not disappointed with how comfortable it was. His plan had come to fruition. Now to bring it to life.

His body urged the chair forward, legs coming to rest under the desk, hands on the top of it, he spoke with an authority he could have only imitated from Ida herself, "Lungbarrow! Coffee! Black!" And then, after a small pause, "I am the boss."

It might've been completely and entirely ridiculous, but he was feeling it. He was enjoying the mock power. He never was the leader type, but at least he could enjoy this. Giving a small huff, he pushed himself back and spun around in the chair.

So this is what I'm reduced to, Custiel thought as he came to a stop, fingers tapping on the desk. He gave a sigh and reached for a stack of papers held together by a rubber band. Freeing the rubber band, he began to twirl it between his fingers, bending and stretching it. Playing in my boss's office. Could be worse, I 'spose.

Custiel pulled the rubber band taut, aiming it upward at one of the ceiling lights. He pulled it back farther and farther, the rubber just ready to fly the moment he let it go, just a little closer…

Ring, ring.

Jumping at the sudden intrusion of sound, Custiel's grip on the rubber band disappeared, but in the wrong direction. Instead of flying upward at his intended target, it flung backward, snapping him directly in the eye. Swearing in a hiss, Custiel's head ducked down, palm quick to cover the pained area. He supposed his goofing off just came back to bite him in the arse, and he hoped it wouldn't leave any kind of lasting mark. Because blimey, did that hurt.

Ring, ring.

The second sounding of his mobile caught his attention more fully, his hand removing itself from his eye to retrieve the ringing device from his jacket pocket. Without bothering to check the ID, he answered it, bringing the mobile to his ear opposite his stinging eye, "Hello?"

"Hey, mate, what's up?" Rory's voice greeted on the other end.

"Oh, nothing," Custiel responded, looking around for a mirror to assess the damage but, unfortunately, finding none. "Jus' stuck at work."

Confusion swirled through Rory's tone, "Work? Shouldn't you be out just 'bout now?"

"Yeah, I should." Custiel tossed the offending rubber band. "But m'not. Ida's gone 'n made me stay a few extra hours while she goes out drinking with her new bloke."

"That's what you get for being her secretary," Rory said with a laugh caught somewhere between amusement and pity.

Custiel leaned back into Ida's chair more, "Thanks for that support. Anyway, what'd you want?"

"Well, I wanted to see if you'd like to hang out, but that's obviously not gonna happen. Wanted to talk to you 'bout some things."

At least today seemed to be trying to break away from the usual drone of routine, although that was quickly trampled by Ida asking him to stay.

"'N what things would that be?" Custiel inquired, truly curious and knowing there might've not been anything else better to do at the moment. At least Ida wasn't around to shoo him away from talking to Rory.

Rory gave only a small pause before answering, "It's about the wedding."

"Ah, yeah," Custiel perked up a bit with recognition. "That'll be this month, right?"

"It would've been, but plans changed a bit," Rory said with what Custiel could only recognize as slight disappointment. "It's gonna be in June instead."

Custiel's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he sat up in the chair a bit, "Something happen?"

He hesitated, "Amy's just been having some… Anxieties over it all."

"She's not backing out or anything, is she?"

"No, no, 'course not," Rory was quick to reassure, although Custiel wondered if it were more for his own benefit than Custiel's. Not that Custiel quite blamed him. Custiel never really pegged Amy as the type to want to be swift in getting married. At least that's how he'd always seen her as in high school. Maybe some things just never changed.

"Alright, June then. I'm sure it'll still work out," Custiel said, trying to sound as encouraging as he could about it.

Rory huffed a bit of a small chuckle, "Yeah, 'course it will! Absolutely. Definitely. June. On the 26th. And you'll be there, right?"

Custiel slowly smiled, "C'mon, you know I will. You're my mate! Been through too much to not go."

Rory was beginning to sound a bit more at ease, the past subject being left behind, "Y'know, you should bring Michelle along as a date. I mean, I've already invited her, but you two should come together."

Suddenly, Custiel could feel his throat tightening. That word simply rendered him to a slight moment of rigid nervousness. Rory's suggestion of bringing Michelle as a date certainly caught him off guard. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Nor was he sure what proper reaction he was supposed to have in that moment.

"Oh, ahh—I don't know," Custiel began, stumbling and trying to grasp onto the right words. "I guess I could, ah.. Ask her to come along. But I mean not as a date, jus'—jus' friends."

Well, that was completely smooth and well executed. And Rory certainly wasn't deaf to hearing his nervousness, his laugh indicating that much, "You're joking, right?"

Fight the blush, fight the blush, fight it, dammit. His face grew warmer, whether it had his permission or not. "No, why would I be joking," Custiel countered quickly, his tone still terribly stiff. What was wrong with him?

"Just friends hang out as much as you two have lately?" Rory added another laugh. "Come on, Custiel."

Custiel took a long pause, swallowing roughly and trying to get over whatever sort of embarrassment he seemed to be suffering from. Why was he reacting this way? It wasn't that big of a deal. People brought friends along to weddings all the time, didn't mean they had to be a date. And even if it was considered a date, it didn't mean anything. He took a slow breath, willing the nervousness away from him.

"I, ah—talked to Clara a couple weeks ago," Custiel said, the first thing he could think of to quickly change the subject.

"Wait, you mean that one girl that would always call me Nina?"

And it seemed to work, much to Custiel's relief. Rory seemed to drop it easily enough.

Custiel could feel himself growing a bit more at ease, a laugh even escaping, "Yep, that's the one."

The only way Custiel could describe the noise Rory made was a scoff. "What were you doing talking to her?"

Without so much as skipping a beat, Custiel explained the whole situation of running into her at Tesco, their small talk conversation, then their parting. It wasn't much of a story, really, but it was something to change the subject. And being able to share the random experience with at least someone seemed to be freeing, in its own way. It made Custiel realize he really didn't have that many people to talk to like he could with Rory.

"Well," Rory began once more after Custiel finished, "if you two start dating again, she better not call me Nina anymore."

Custiel laughed, a doubtful hint in his tone, "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry 'bout that. Trust me."

There was only a small pause before Rory spoke, "Alright, well, I've got to get going. I made a deal with Amy if you weren't around to hang out, I'd help her with the wedding invites."

Custiel chuckled a bit, not at all able to stop the widening of his smile, "Yeah, alright. Good luck, Nina."

"Hah hah," Rory mockingly said, his tone largely unamused. "See you."

"Later."

Pulling the mobile from his ear, he hung up, turning the device in his hands over and over. His thoughts circulated around the conversation, especially the subject of the wedding and asking Michelle along. Custiel had to wonder if Michelle mentioned how much they'd been spending time together recently to Rory. Not that he minded that bit, but it definitely seemed to give the wrong idea to Rory.

At any rate, surely she was going to the wedding already, so all he had to do was ask if she wanted to go with him. It would be nothing more than that, right? The word 'date' never had to come into the conversation. Just two friends going to another friend's wedding. Simple.

But why didn't it feel simple? Custiel gave a sigh, shaking himself from those thoughts. He returned his mobile to the pocket where it once resided, finally remembering that he was still at work. Stuck. For another two hours to cover the rest of Ida's shift. The last time he'd stayed so late was well over a year ago. If anything, at least he could be thankful this wouldn't be a recurring thing. At least he certainly hoped so.

Getting up from Ida's chair, he made his way back to his own desk, settling within and setting himself to working on some paper filing. Oh yes, his top favorite thing to do.

With a heavy sigh accompanying the soft click of the front door, Custiel tossed his shoulder bag onto the couch within his flat. Never did he think a simple two hours could drag on for so long. It left him much more tired than usual, as well as that much gladder it was the weekend. It made the very idea of tea and telly extremely appealing. And that was exactly what he would do.

In a single movement, his dark blue jacket slid from his shoulders and off his arms, soon landing on the couch as well. Tie loosened, shoes kicked off near the door, he could feel the warm welcome of the weekend settling over him like a careful tidal wave. And the first order of business was setting a water-filled kettle on the stove.

Knock, knock, knock.

Well, so much for not being disturbed. Although Custiel couldn't quite find it in him to really complain. He was simply too tired at this point. So after setting the stovetop on a low heat, kettle filled with water on top, he stepped over to the door, swinging it open. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but he couldn't really say he was surprised.

"Hello there, Custiel."

A less than pleased expression quickly worked its way onto Custiel's features, the sight of a brown pinstriped suit-wearing Tenth not how he'd wanted to start his weekend, "What d'you want, Tenth?"

Instead of receiving some kind of stupid grin, Tenth just watched him with a relatively serious expression, "Listen, can we talk?"

"No," Custiel responded curtly, beginning to close the door on his older brother. But the action was unsuccessful and stopped short as Tenth quickly extended his hand, stopping the door.

"Why not?" Tenth demanded, his hand remaining firmly planted on the door.

Mockingly, Custiel tilted his head, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling as if he were truly thinking this over, "Well, blimey, I don't know—it must be so convenient for you to forget the answer to that so easily."

Looking back to Tenth, Custiel continued before he could speak, "What happens at a stag, stays at a stag. That sound familiar to you at all?"

Tenth's gaze hardened just slightly, "I'm not here to talk about that."

"'Spose we've got nothing to talk 'bout then." Custiel tried to close the door once more, but Tenth wouldn't allow it.

Tenth's eyebrows raised as he spoke, "I heard what happened with dad."

Seeming to give up on trying to close the door, Custiel pulled it open wider as his raised his own eyebrows, "Alright, and?"

"And I think you owe him an apology."

Custiel barely contained the scoff and the shake of his head, "Oh no, no, don't tell me you're trying to do the 'big brother thing' 'n act like you're on a moral high ground to judge the situation, are you?"

Tenth's features scrunched up, "What're you talking about? I always have to do the 'big brother thing'. Not sure if you've really noticed, but I kind of am your big brother. And I am telling you to apologize."

Silence passed between the brothers as Custiel just watched Tenth, his gaze slowly turning into a glare. "Look," Custiel finally began quietly, "I think it's great that you can get along with dad. But I can't. 'N you know that. So why should I waste my time?"

"Because it's your father," Tenth urged. "Our father."

"Yeah, well, our father has done nothing but put me down 'n I don't want to be a part of it anymore."

A small sigh escaped Tenth's lips, "Custiel, can I just come in and—"

Custiel quickly interjected, "'N what? So you can get more shit on me to try 'n steal my best friend away from me again? I don't think so."

Tenth almost looked surprised. He gave a laugh to match his surprise, lips turning up into a slightly amused smile, "Do you really think I'm trying to do that?"

"No, I don't think, I know," Custiel said sharply. "I know that you can't stand that I've got something special with Michelle that you can't possibly have, so you've got to take it from me."

A pause ensued the moment Custiel stopped speaking, the small hint of a smile still staining Tenth's features just as he raised a single eyebrow higher than the other, "Oh? And what's this 'something special' between you two that I'm trying to take from you? Do tell, Custiel."

A knot started to form in the very back of Custiel's throat at Tenth's words. He hadn't realized just what he'd said until Tenth repeated it, his expression expectant as well as a bit smug. Shit. Did he really mean to say that?

Looking off to the side, Custiel cleared his throat and swallowed roughly. "Nothing. She's just my friend," Custiel said far too quickly, feeling the knot growing.

Slowly, Tenth's smile grew, "Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" Custiel answered as he looked back to him, still too quickly.

There wasn't a sign of Tenth's smile ever diminishing now. "Maybe you should be asking yourself that."

A frustrated sigh escaped Custiel's mouth, "Think you can do me a favor?"

Amused, yet a touch confused, Tenth slid his hands into his pockets, "I'll do my best, sure. What is it?"

"For once in your life, try to stop being such a prick."

Slam.

This time, Custiel was completely successful in closing the door on his brother, much to his pleasure as well as relief.

"Oh, yeah, that's real mature, Custiel," Tenth called through the door, his voice still just barely audible. "Apologize to dad. I mean it."

Custiel didn't bother to reply, simply waiting for several long moments until nothing but silence greeted his ears once more. It was like a wave of momentary relief, leaving him in the form of a sigh. He had to wonder, why was it he couldn't have a balanced day? Somewhere between routine and unexpected? It always seemed like it was all or nothing, never in-between.

The tea. He could still have tea and maybe call Michelle. And that certainly sounded like a better ending to the day than dealing with his brother. What was with that visit anyhow? Surely Tenth didn't think he could convince him to really apologize. He was done doing any kind of apologizing toward that man. And he wasn't looking to change that, especially not if Tenth was being sent as some kind of sympathetic messenger boy to beg for an apology.

As the water began to boil, Custiel grabbed a mug from a cabinet, placing the tea bag within and pouring the water. He had to wonder just what would happen if their father was no longer around. That maybe it would somehow transform Tenth into the brother he'd never gotten the chance to have. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. As terrible as it was to think that way, he almost wanted it to be true.

Finally having fully prepped the tea, he sat himself down onto the couch, turned the television on to a random program, and took a small sip. Already he could feel himself calming and trying to wash away today's hectic nature. And there was just one last little detail he knew that could really start the weekend right. A call to Michelle.

Digging his mobile from his pocket, he sat his mug of tea down onto the coffee table, thumbing through his recent calls to find Michelle's number. Highlighting the digits, he hesitated and stared, eyes flickering over the bright screen. He was suddenly torn. Custiel wanted to call Michelle to check up on her, have a better ending to his day. Yet at the same time… Maybe he shouldn't bother her. Sure, it had been a couple days since they'd spoken, but for some reason, he was finding certain excuses not to call her. It was getting late, perhaps she was busy, or she even could be sleeping.

Whatever it was, it stopped him, causing him to put his mobile down onto the table next to his cup. If he had to rationalize it, there wasn't much he would know to talk about anyhow. Not beyond asking her how she was and what she was doing. Maybe it was a mistake, but that was yet to be seen. Reaching forward, Custiel took hold of his cup, taking another sip of his tea before setting it back down, and finding himself drifting.

After such a long day, he quickly fell asleep, long before his tea could even turn cold. And he was none the wiser to a text lighting up his phone from the very person he'd doubted he'd ever hear from again.