The blessing of a wide, perhaps infinite vocabulary in every language ever existed was different to having working knowledge of words. For example, one may be familiar with the verb "run", but they are not acquainted with the act of doing so until they get up and hightail it. It all resounded their discussion about experience and knowledge.
This whole concept was an interesting thing when it came to Castiel. Well. Interesting for observers, compromising for him. Presently, however, this concept coupled with his recent supposed development of pubescent qualities (which, considering the situation, merited a dropping of that "supposed") had him unmindful of the new words he was becoming experienced with. His qualities were still in its infancy, and that's when they hit the hardest. They had him doing things without conscious thought and inhibition. He was "running" for the first time, and didn't even realize it.
Metaphors aside, he was unconsciously flirting and, as above told, was in a position where he could compromise himself, and, with his hand where it was, such an event could easily, easily befall.
Luckily for him, Audrey was also blissfully uninhibited. Her temperament was very much like a teenager, while her judgment was suitably matured. That happy-go-lucky temperament had her indifferent to the location of his hand - mainly because she put it there. However, it was that matured judgment that had her discreetly side-eying him in regards to the way he was currently "holding" her.
It started with the initial, overly-ambitious grab, which startled the both them. His surprise soon subsided as he recalled the limousine ride, when he had explored her body, only by sight. And now, he was doing it literally. Though, he wasn't exploring per se, but rather he had figuratively "set up camp". As they wove through the highly bred mass together, with her engrossed in her epic quest for Oliver, the angel decided to embark upon a little adventure of his own. He saw no harm in it. Mainly because all risks had been blurred into obscurity.
What began as a firm, possessive hold of her took a lewd downwards spiral as his nails seemed to hitch into the fabric and he languidly dragged his fingers inwards. Facing ahead rendered him unable to see it happening, but he could imagine the hem of that dress slowly riding upwards —
"Hey!"
Glowering at him, she reached behind herself and smacked his hand, but did not detach it, and modestly tugged down the back of her dress. He merely responded with a look of innocent bemusement.
Ensuing was the current situation in which they were forced to sever their attachment, when a trio of overexcited guests tore between them after spotting the arrival of their equally overexcited friends. Audrey stopped to amusedly observe them and their bouncing ball of urban hollering ("YEAH BOYEEEE!") while Castiel - who achieved the following without second thought, as though it had become his sole duty the moment they were forced to part - sidled forward with sensuous grace, snaked a hand around her to reclaim its earlier anchorage, and hauled her flush against him.
That certainly ripped her attention away from the screaming guests, eliciting a high-pitched "Oh!" of delightful surprise from her also. He was beginning to find surprising her oddly indulging.
"Um –" Not knowing where else to put them, she laid her gloved hands on his arms, "– we're not gonna find him if we just stand idle."
"I know."
She frowned and smiled, seemingly disapproving and approving of his behavior at the same time. There was no struggle against his one-armed embrace, but neither was he the fixture of her attention, as proven by the way she maneuvered about in his arms, trying to inspect the perimeter. Just when he was about to remove himself from her, she stopped dead, before doing just that herself.
"I just saw him!" she hissed frantically, towing him behind a cluster of people.
He inclined to one side and extended his grace, working to detect the presence of Oliver something-or-other. It magnetized straight to a figure across the room, and he was immediately unsurprised that she fell for such a man. Non-threatening, boy-next-door good looks - the kind normally seen on the formulaic love interests of female primetime protagonists - black hair mussed into a charming disarray, and, as he stood alone nursing a colorless beverage, somehow achieved in airing the alluring dignity of a "lone wolf", as opposed to the pitiful stigma of being the "loner".
"Okay. I can do this. Get it together, you girl scout." As Castiel turned to the sound of her belligerent self pep talk, wide eyes flicked up to him. "Do you remember your story?"
"No."
"Good. Let's go."
As they crossed the room, a foreign line of thinking stole its untimely way into the foreground of his mind. This man he was walking towards had been involved with Audrey. Straightaway, his fastidious mind could not refrain from taking the loose term of being "involved" and measuring its implications. The one that stood out the most was the comprehensive "taking the traditional five senses and regarding them as deeds to do to/with/for her".
Luckily for Castiel, he literally had the composure of an angel, otherwise he would have appeared before the man with a sneer as relentless as that very implication sitting in his mind.
He waited until Oliver's faraway stare fixed onto him before speaking; "Hello."
Briefly confused by a greeting of obvious reluctance, he smiled tentatively. "Hiya?"
Even silence was a reluctant participant of this exchange. Castiel turned to prompt Audrey to fill it, who he assumed was at an uncharacteristic but justified loss for words. Hard to do so when, as it turned out, she had been absent from his side the entire time. Twisting around, he tried to spot her, unknowingly mirroring the way in which the Winchesters would do when he vanished into thin air.
"Um, I'm Oliver Stagl," he heard him say accommodatingly, as though he was trying to conduct him through the already waning, mutually undesired conversation.
Still peering around, he responded, "I know who you are."
Oliver flinched, struck by bewilderment. Castiel noted the silence and turned back to him. "Audrey has informed me of you," he elaborated.
"Oh," he sounded surprised and wistful at the same time, his expression reading likewise. "Huh." Pause. "How, how is she? Is she here?"
He began scrambling for the pieces of his story. "I'm a professor."
"What?"
"I don't have a surname."
"Uh –"
"I'm engaged."
"... that's nice?"
"To Audrey."
"Oh."
Another random snippet of fiction was just about to haphazardly tumble out of his mouth when, upon the look of reminiscence on Oliver's face, he decided that that was a fitting detail to close on. After granting him a half-courteous, half-begrudging smile (knowing he wouldn't perceive the latter half) he walked off, leaving him alone looking vaguely constipated in the wake of this new revelation.
It didn't take long for him to feel out her presence. She was in the neighboring room, where there were dozens of round dining tables, all in immaculate alignment. He took five steps to the left. Three steps forward. Another two to the right until he stood just by a table. In a very studied manner, he descended into a seat, and when he was confident no one was looking, he hoisted up the tablecloth.
When she saw him, she started so violently she hit her head. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, wincing. His fingers twitched to relieve her of the pain almost imperceptibly, but kept his hands to himself.
"Your protruding shoes left little to the imagination," he replied. Though it was true, it wasn't how he found her of course. As she wrinkled her nose at her blunder and drew her legs further inward, he asked, "Why are you under the table?"
"This is what I do at parties. What, you've never done it before?"
"If I ask again, will you tell me the truth?"
The feeble smile on her face split into an expression of dread. "I'm not ready to talk to him!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't do this, Cas! I can't, it's too painful!"
Trepidation was such an ill-fitting expression on her face, and wearing it made her look unrecognizable. He disapproved of it immediately.
"We can leave if you wish, Audrey," he said softly. A smile quivered its way onto her face, and he couldn't help but do the same for her sake. The private moment was interrupted by his grace alerting him to a presence. Head whipping upwards, he spotted Oliver searching the room. "I suggest you hide. I believe he's looking for me."
"Why?"
"Just –" He would have rolled his eyes curtly, but instead he nudged her head back under the table and adjusted the tablecloth.
Despite the dozen or so other people in the room, Oliver's steps within were hesitant, as though uncertain of whether or not he was permitted here. Then, spotting Castiel, who, upon recognition, glanced away inconspicuously, he progressed forward with enterprising verve. A few feet shy of his table, he stopped when the angel convincingly pretended to notice him.
"Hi again," he said with an awkward smile. "We met earlier?"
"Of course."
Oliver's mouth moved, testing various sentence openers to no avail, before pulling up and settling on a chair. "I hope you don't mind me asking about her - about Audrey - but, uh, you know, how is she doing, really?" Not even allowing him a beat to answer, he quickly threw in, "And, and I guess congratulations are in order for the engagement, hey?" he chuckled, brilliant smile at full wattage.
It was then that Castiel was reminded of her sinful abuse of acting ability. With the unmistakable intent for Oliver to see, she crawled out from under the table, and assumed her best mien of shock.
"Oh my goodness, Oliver?" she gasped melodramatically.
Both men wore matching expressions, though Oliver's sloped more towards "horrified" while Castiel's mingled closer to "morbidly excited". He saw the way Oliver looked to and from where she had emerged and where he was sitting, no doubt putting two and two together and gleaning the most obvious, most raunchy scenario. The angel's mouth opened to illuminate what was purely coincidental and totally innocent, but of course, this was all part of her plan.
"Damn, this sure is embarrassing!" she giggled, crawling onto the seat next to him and across from Oliver. Tongue between her teeth, she elbowed Castiel, who was grimacing at her with his eyes the same way Tyra Banks would smile with her eyes, or "smize". Grimize? "We gotta stop doing this in public!" she whispered loudly.
"I - you – were —" Both men uttered the same in unison.
It was to Castiel that she responded, "Incredible? Dexterous? Nothing's too good for my man." She patted him lightly on the leg, or rather, deliberately missing and making him jolt in his seat, as she smiled at her paralyzed, former beau. "Anyways. How are you, Oliver?"
They talked. A lot. One would presume that he would grow weary of the chatter between two exes, when really, their exchange fascinated him. Mainly because the substance of their dialogue was very alike to those that he and Audrey would have. Casually intellectual without stretching into pretentiousness, with a mingling note of flirtation in the air. However, he noticed with some satisfaction and curiosity, their element of flirtation seemed contrived; as though it was an old habit that, upon revival, seemed alien to them now.
What reigned his curiosity over the content of their conversation was the manifestation of evidence that vouched for Audrey's recrimination of him. His exterior was non-threatening, but in reality he was patronizingly condescending, if possible; he would mask all condescension with a handsome smile. Castiel could tell when it stung her. He saw the slight wince in her eyes, the struggle in her smile, and the occasional moments where she was literally biting her tongue. Even with just a short time under the sun, the glass of milk that was their relationship had already begun to go sour.
As they spoke of pop culture, wars and the holiday season, he could only silently watch him tear her apart with gilded words, with that handsome smile serving as a shield. He wanted to help; he spotted all his contradictions and contextual errors as much as Oliver had for Audrey and therefore possessed the ideal ammunition, but at her periodic sidelong glance of defiance at him, he held his tongue. She wanted to fight her own battle.
"I have to say," Oliver began, in a tone that smirked despite the amiable smile he bore, leaning back on his chair with audacious pride, "I'm a little surprised." His gaze fell to Castiel in what was probably the first time in half an hour. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I never took Audrey as the marrying type."
"Oh, we're not getting married," she interjected, her hastiness betraying a trace of her repressed indignation. "We just like the whole package that comes with being engaged. The implication that we're being serious, the new relationship honorifics – y'know, fiancé instead of boyfriend and girlfriend..."
Oliver quirked an eyebrow snobbishly. "So... you're just gonna stay in engagement limbo forever?"
Her beam was poisonously sweet. "You make it sound like a bad thing."
"I think people who stay engaged forever have commitment problems."
"It's okay Oliver, you can say you're referring to me."
"I wasn't, 'cause I believe that your circumstances are maybe different."
"You didn't say that."
"I just did."
"It wasn't attached to your original statement."
"Nor was any evidence pointing to the assumption that I was referring to you."
"The evidence was in the absence."
"Yes, Audrey, the evidence was in the absence."
Castiel, who was massaging what had become a visible headache, turned his head up to them and donned his very sober expression of divine splendor.
"May I speak?" he asked, his gruff, professional tone clashing dramatically with theirs.
The intrusion of his voice took them both by surprise, as though they had forgotten his presence. Then, with perfect synchrony, pageant smiles were pasted on their faces, and he briefly wondered who initially inspired who with that sort of smile. They appeared as though they suspected his first words in the discussion would be modest and timid, and they wanted to be supportive. They were wrong. The angel was about to bring out the big guns, ready with ammunition. For both of them.
"Audrey and I are not engaged to be wed."
She instantly looked the opposite of supportive. "Cas!"
Not even presenting her a glance, he focused on Oliver. "Nor are we involved in such a way. She fabricated a story around me as material to spite you."
He barely responded to the way she was lividly smacking his arm. "How could you sell me out?"
The stunned Oliver began to grin like a Cheshire cat before regarding her with abstract sympathy. "Audrey, we brothers look out for one another."
As he spoke, Castiel finally shared a look with her. His was apologetic, yet purposeful, tacitly promising something valuable. The way her eyes narrowed told him that whatever he had prepared better be worth it. It being her dignity, of course.
"Not necessarily," he replied tightly, gaze shifting back to Oliver's as something calculative seeped into his eyes. When his grin dimmed, Castiel calmly laced his fingers together on the table. "I feel it's time that I call attention to some of the faults of your side of the exchange that I had noted in my silence."
"Wh-what?"
From the corners of his eyes, Audrey allowed a shadow of interest to surface. He recalled their earlier conversation about war.
"Oliver, to berate Audrey for estimating the death toll of the Cold War to the nearest ten and then to do the same with the 9/11 attacks is hypocritical. Moreover, it's unsurprising that Audrey, or anyone for that matter, has only a vague understanding of the Cold War."
At the offhand slight to her intelligence, she exclaimed, "Hey!" He ignored her.
"One must take into account the debatable involvement of the Korean and Vietnam wars in relation to the Cold War. Some argue these wars were not a part of it, but rather loose ends of the second World War. Therefore, it somewhat depends on whether or not you see eye to eye on that political ambiguity that, more or less, will determine your reliability of which you deem is high enough to criticize her convictions, and if my impressions are correct, the expression on your face informs me that this political ambiguity is unfamiliar to you, thus belying your immoderate perception of your own intelligence of which you have only been able to provide a mild demonstration of."
At a loss, Oliver's mouth opened and closed helplessly like a fish. Evidently, Castiel had been underestimated again.
"Having said that, to disparage her words not only makes you appear a fool, but to then subsequently do likewise and estimate the death toll of 9/11 to the nearest ten - which, if I may add, is not long past in comparison to the Cold War, which ranged between the years 1947 and 1991, which accordingly means that Audrey had to approximate the death toll of forty-four years, as opposed to the September 11 attacks, of which the death toll is determined by events occurring within eleven and a half hours - not trivializing the incident in any way, but only to highlight the unfairness of your criticism - makes you, as mentioned earlier, a hypocrite. And although I cannot necessarily correct you with your estimation, as figures of the death toll are always conflicting as provided by various sources, I must still point out that your erroneous sum of, and I quote, "in the ballpark of six thousand" is, as a matter of fact, the toll for those injured. And, the following is going to give every indication of being incredibly insensitive to those who've passed, but it has been reported that only approximately two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-six people died."
Silence. Audrey, despite the annoyance still lingering behind her eyes, looked rather impressed. Oliver simply looked horrified, but fairly thankful that his onslaught was over.
But it wasn't.
"Furthermore –"
"Oh God," squeaked Oliver.
"– I very much dislike the tyrannical control you feel you need over word context. I understand grammatical perfectionism is a common characteristic for many people, but I resent the way in which you encounter these syntactical errors and rather than offering a correction, you use it against the person. For example, earlier, Audrey used the word "gifted"; you echoed the discourse in kind but with the word "expert"." Slightly, Castiel leaned forward, speaking furtively and ominously, "Oliver Stagl, I saw in your eyes, in that very moment, securing an opportunity to take her supposedly imprecise word choice, stretch the definition and put words in her mouth. You indicated that "gifted" came with the implication that - in following the factors of which you were discussing at the time - one possessed a quality they've always inherently possessed. You then proceeded to argue that the correct word choice would have been "expert", as it implies that said quality was earned. There is nothing flawed in these arguments, but why you see to argue them after you've embellished your debate beyond recognition is something I cannot make sense of."
Leaning back to his original stance, Castiel allowed his unanticipated profusion of words to hang in the air, coercing them both into a deafening silence as they sat in the wealth of it. He looked to and from them, sensing both their thoughts turning a mile a minute, but also their unwillingness to be the first to speak. He decided he needed to give them a reason to speak.
"Forgive me if this is too personal," he began, and neither looked relieved to have the silence broken by him, "but considering how neither of you appear prepared to speak, I believe it wouldn't be too bold of me if I were to address the - to put it colloquially - elephant in the room." With a stare, he pinned Oliver into his seat. "Your relationship with Audrey, in regards to as far as I've heard about you from her." Oliver gulped, as Castiel tilted his head inquisitively. "Do you not believe that what I have just clarified about you was the detrimental factor of your relationship?" He glanced briefly at Audrey, who was looking particularly vulnerable with this new subject. "Do you not believe, that knowing how highly she holds her pride, that your incessant fault-finding, as well as the patent gratification you receive in said fault-finding, would upset her?"
Oliver looked at Audrey for refutation, but found the opposite. "I didn't... but..."
Castiel watched as they communicated silently with their eyes, something he assumed they had mastered long ago. After a minute or two, still without a conclusion, he spoke again.
"I've known Audrey for a very short time in contrast," he said carefully, "and either I have more tact or you never knew her at all." He directed an expressive gaze to Oliver for a moment, before leaving the significance up in the air and fixing his gaze to the table instead. "That is all I have say."
It was then they both knew that was the last they would hear of it. Oliver and Audrey were left in the wake of the damage left by the elephant in the room, while Castiel just sat, for once not suffering under the press of a burdensome silence. He did, however, steal an oblique glance at her when Oliver rose from his chair and brusquely marched off, leaving them to be afflicted with the final condescending impact of the dismissive snort he sounded.
She was doing an admirable job of clinging to her composure until she turned to him, slowly doing so as an illustration of the emotions that were currently ricocheting within her. A man would fear that look hugely, as men habitually found great difficulty in having to approximate just one emotion at a time. Castiel, having safely felt justified, felt nothing.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice quiet but simmering with emotions.
"I've learned, from experience, not to strictly take sides, but to take action."
At this, a couple of emotions escaped her: anger and indignity. "By making us both look stupid?"
"You both deserved it," he said bluntly. Her appalled gape didn't faze him. "You're on even ground now, unlike before, where you were both floating in equal obscurity. Constructing an image around you within that obscurity does not make you any more grounded. Perhaps you'll fool him, but the real fool is yourself."
Her face soured, comprehending his logic with aversion, as she grumbled, "Okay, Gandhi." She took to her feet and he was in no hurry to follow.
"Where are you going?"
She snatched her clutch off the table as if it had insulted her mother. "I need air now that I'm not floating within the scary bubble of foolish obscurity!" His expression remained impassive at her blatant display of condescension as she gave an uppity toss of her hair before flouncing out of the room like a drama queen, with him unabashedly eying her lower body as she did so.
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