"Greetings, strangers.

Don't get mugged now.

I know a place
Where the grass is always peed on
Worn but in style
Let's hope you're ready for the slaughter
Sex and drug abuse
Not to mention all the STD's
(Oh and!) The noise
As you'd guess
Will drive you out within a week (Uh huh!)

You could travel the world
But nothing comes close
To the cold East Coast
You'll be causing a fuss
You've been mugged here enough

New York City, I
think you're regrettable
Slipped on puke
At the subway stop
Got mugged for
some drugs
I'm left with one nickel

New York City, you're
so unreliable
Racketeers
on Wall Street non-stop
Crooked coppers yell
"NOW PUT YOUR HANDS UP!""

"Well I'll be. Andy Samberg can really get down in that trench coat of yours. Shame he can't quite hit those high notes, huh?" Gabriel commented, sitting with Castiel in the farthest booth of Starbucks, empty save for his colleagues who he reassured were just figments of his own creation – which explained how they could speak so openly about supernatural concerns without reservation – watching his very own Saturday Night Live parody on the television. He threw him a sly smile. "And you know, this spoof actually makes me like that crappy Katy Perry song, so that'll do, Cas. That'll do."

Although Castiel's eyes were leveled on the television, where his imitator was earning laughs by writhing against a lamppost, he wasn't watching. All presence of mind had escaped him to dwell on something else. Becoming aware that Gabriel was moving from his seat ("Yech. Weekend Update sucks, I'm not watchin' this."), he divulged his thoughts.

"I sense she desires to lay with me."

Gabriel froze, but quickly recovered with a look of mock pity. "Aw. Having a pretty girl lusting after your loins." He tutted. "How unfortunate for you." He dropped the sarcasm. "So tell me, what lead you to such a presumptuous presumption?"

At this, Castiel glanced aside, privately recalling the peculiar little moment that ensued a few days ago, which had charmed the better part of his thoughts since.

They were in the toy department of Macy's, and he had been bulldozed into her pursuit to find a birthday gift for Nicky, even though he was indeed turning twenty seven. And the special type of toy on his wishlist most certainly would not be found in this department, let alone Macy's. Setting was unimportant anyway. His mind was so far-flung from reality he could barely register what she was currently saying to him. Not with those lips. And the brilliant tongue that resided behind them, presently all work and no play. Not yet at least.

Kissing was… interesting. Not in the same way he found with their discussions, but it was something worth exploring every time. In all senses – physically, in particular. So far, she had been the one to slip the tongue. Slipping the tongue earned first place, the gold medal, the whip hand, the trump card. He wanted it for a change, just to see what it's like. So, feeling decidedly experimental…

"The Tickle Me Elmos vibrate, right? Maybe Nicky will find some use with thi—mmmf!"

Cupping her face, he kissed her briefly before dancing his tongue inquiringly across the seam of her lips and then pushing into her mouth. It all startled her so much that her arm reflexively whipped out to find purchase on the shelves behind her, knocking over a few toys on the highest ledge in doing so. In a blink of an eye, he had detached from her and effortlessly caught all three of them.

She stared at him, dumbstruck. What left her mouth was not an apology, not even an "Oops!".

"You have really good reflexes."

He tilted his head and frowned, not expecting that but not abhorring it either. "Thank you."

As he turned to put the Mr. Potato Head and Woody doll back in their places, she continued to stare, starry-eyed.

"I'm a lucky girl." He turned to look at her quizzically, yet already knew what was implied on some vague level. At his regard, her focus revived and she turned away, blushing. "Come along, then."

She cast him a flirty look over her shoulder as she sashayed away, and the wings of the Buzz Lightyear figure in his hands promptly sprung up.

Gabriel, who had been left behind in the drab present to watch Castiel travel miles away without him to the glorious Land of Provocative Thought, intervened with a snap of his fingers.

"Hellooo?"

Instantly, he snapped to focus. "How can I be certain of what she wants?"

He stroked his imaginary beard. "A little mind breaking and entering couldn't hurt. She'll never even know!"

"No," he rebuffed without a beat, "I wish to avoid that breach of privacy." A smirk and arched eyebrow arose, Gabriel challenging the truth of that, but it seemed he was being let off the hook this time.

Knowing Castiel would follow, he sauntered to the front counters as he attended to the question. "If she wants you inside of her, she'll find reasons to touch you, her tongue will be deliberately more visible than usual, she'll laugh at anything, she'll lean into you, stare at certain parts of your body with a curious level of interest, drop one Freudian slip after the other, she'll have that come-hither look in her eyes, yada yada blah blah and all that jazz…" He looked remarkably flippant when he whirled back around, finding Castiel nodding away mental notes with the intensity of a diligent student.

"And then there's the whole "I need help with something inside" shtick," he added, with such apathy he may as well have been inspecting his nails. Castiel's head tilt compelled him to elaborate.

"Oh, you know," he flourished a hand frivolously, "the broad cooks up some half-baked story like, uh, "I think my dishwasher's broken; think you could come up and take a look at it for me?", or "The light in my fridge is flickering, do you wanna come in and check it out?", or the not so subtle "I'm arranging my room and I need help positioning the bed; you think you could assist me with that?"" He made a wry face. "If you ask me, in some way, they're shooting themselves in the foot by pulling that gimmick because it only encourages the belief that women rely on men to do everything." He raised his palms defensively and teetered around the counter. "But hey! If it leads to a lay and a raise in virility as a whole, you better believe I ain't complainin'."

His gaze became cautioning as he raised a finger, withholding attention for an additional moment. "Ooh and, here's a word of warning from your brother Gabe: if you don't butter up that muffin real fast, she's gonna peruse other joints to glut her hunger."

Frown. "What do you mean?"

With a tight smile, he pitied his brother. "A non-virgin would giggle at my metaphor," he sighed. "Let me put it this way for your virgin ears: your –" he paused, momentarily lost for the word before deciding on one with a smirk, "– let's face it – girlfriend, is a sexually liberated young woman in Manhattan. She thrives on sexual energy. If and when she doesn't have a creative outlet to dispense said energy, where do you think it goes?" He fixed him with a meaningful glance. "It goes to you. So the question is, are you prepared for that? 'Cause you better be."

With a profound air, he straightened upright. "I get the impression that she is the type of girl who knows her own sexuality and will use it against you, and all her efforts will fly right over your head. One moment she's standing next to you, innocently showing you how to make a banana daiquiri," his tone suddenly darkened, "next moment you're very conscious of the way she's pressed up against you, breathing your air as she tells you the instructions, of which all translate suggestively in your head. She makes you think you're thinking that way because you want it, when really she's planting the idea in your mind with her sensuality." Another thing hit him, inspiring a grin. "Erotic Inception!" he proudly dubbed. Then, to himself, like an afterthought, "That would be one helluva sequel…"

Castiel frowned further, reluctant to comprehend all this. "I think you're wrong about her."

"Fine! Prepare to be surprised. You just keep doing what you're doing and she might, she just might go off and…" he paused meaningfully as he winked, "… slip into something more comfortable." The wicked smirk vanished as his entire expression deadpanned. "Like a coma." Castiel simply blinked wearily at him before eagerly resuming his journey to the Land of Provocative Thought.

There was silence for a while, the discussion apparently ending, before Gabriel poked his head around the farthest side of the counter. "You wanna hear something funny?"

Although a disinterested look was droned his way, he told him anyway.

"A little birdie told me where most of the demons in New York live!" He flashed a very exaggerated smile as though it would prompt Castiel's excitement. Naturally, it sparked the opposite.

After frozen for a moment, he stormed over to his brother, scowling. "Demons are not a laughing matter."

Gabriel's face deadpanned completely as he folded his arms on the counter. "Alright, I gotta know: what is? Either you have a really pretentious sense of humor… or none at all." Castiel did not respond, and his uncompromising glare only inspired a mirthful grin to emerge in response. "See, this is what I like about demons. They actually have a sense of humor! Angels are so… dull. With the exception of moi, of course. And maybe Uriel. Could be 'cause we're both dicks to some extent … dicks, demons," he teetered his head, weighing the words. "This is also why humans are so entertaining – they have a bit of both in them. Angels and demons, I mean. Though I guess you could say a dick could be insi — let's not go there."

His rambling did not shake Castiel's tenacity. "Tell me where they are at once," he commanded.

"Why? So you can go and smite them? Huh? And let you have all the fun?"

"You offered to tell."

"I offered to tell you something funny," he knowingly cornered, "not something you could use."

"Tell me," he ground out.

Slowly, Gabriel leaned forward furtively. "Okay. Here we go. The demons in New York –" A quick, heedful scan of the empty room, "– live in Hell's Kitchen!"

His scowl waned into his typical confused frown. "Hell's Kitchen…" he echoed to himself, the words still not clarifying. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a neighborhood in Manhattan. Nice place, far better than it used to be." He frowned when Castiel moved for the back exit. "Where are you going?" he growled, all levity vanishing from his voice.

"To carry out my duties."

"The hell you are!" When this did not halt the angel, he picked up the nearest thing he could find from his side of the counter and threw it at him, which happened to be one of his cursed muffins. It bounced right off the angel's head, but succeeded in drawing his full attention. "You, sir, are acting of your own volition! And didn't I tell you not to?"

"The bidding was to restore order on earth," Castiel argued, storming right back to the counter.

"Uh huh, and in what way does that translate to "exorcise demons left and right"?"

"I was unaware of the disadvantage in doing so," he countered, his tone dryly sarcastic.

"But there is a risk! They're harmless, honestly! They're like tamed serpents, I tell you! Sure, they still possess the poison, but they'll only attack if provoked!" As he was still unconvinced, Gabriel snapped his fingers, eyes alighting with an idea. "Know what? Know what? I'll prove it to you!" Fingers in his mouth, he blew out a whistle. A beautiful brunette with long, sensual curls and eyes to enhance emerged from the staff only doors, strutting to them wearing what was probably an intentionally indecent version of the Starbucks uniform. "Castiel. I'd like you to meet Brandi, with an 'i'."

He studied her with unmoved curiosity. She didn't seem the type one would extend their hand to as much as she was just a figure made to stand around and look attractive.

"She's a demon."

His fixed gaze became aghast and she smiled, glad to be the cause of it. "Gabriel! What is the meaning of this?"

"And we're doing it."

Gabriel and Brandi proceeded to share the most graphic, open-mouthed, tongue-prominent kiss; an image that was to brand itself in Castiel's subconscious and replay periodically like a Nam flashback.

"This – is – abominable!" he snarled, succeeding in prying them apart without having to make contact.

"Don't be such a Debbie Downer," he laughed dismissively, "it's two weeks into 2013! Get with the times!"

"This situation is not comparable to the racial integration of the mid-twentieth century. This is a case of two sides of a spectrum that are never supposed to touch – save your insolence, I'm aware of my choice of words," he added curtly in the appearance of Gabriel's smirk. "How forbidden and consequently exciting you find this affair to be is inconsequential. The bottom line is that it's wrong." He straightened up his spine. "I'm leaving to see to those demons immediately," he stated with an authoritative air, moving for the back exit, "I strongly suggest you wise up and do the same with yours."

"Don't do this, Castiel," Gabriel intoned, the strain in his deceptively playful voice suggesting his patience was near breaking point. He stalked him into the backroom, Brandi obediently following. "No!" he ruptured finally, "No, ohhh, I didn't want it to come to this, I really didn't, but I am blackmailing you!"

Castiel stopped. The foulest glare was seen on his face when he turned to them. "With what?" he sneered.

"With this!" And suddenly, he was staring not at Gabriel, but at a clone of himself. Castiel 2.0 glowed of Gabriel's undying bravado, underlined by the habitual smirk he wore. He wagged his eyebrows.

He imposed his duplicate with a withering look. "That… is despicable."

"That! Is despicable!" Gabriel mocked, testing Castiel's voice. "Hey, you know, we could go up to Little Red, or any girl for that matter, and say we're twins." He winked. "Some people get off from that."

Castiel's scowl grew petulant. "This is unfair. I cannot go against the allegiance I've made to our Father."

"Ah-ah!" Gabriel nixed with a point of his finger. "You said so yourself, His bidding was for you to maintain order on earth! Nowhere does that imply that you absolutely must expel demons to achieve this. If they were to attack, by all means, dispose of them at your leisure." He glanced at Brandi, who barely responded to anything. "Sorry dollface." Back to Castiel. "You demand order, but it's already here. Don't go thinking that I'm trying to sway you from your day job, 'cause that's not what's happening here. I'm just sayin': don't try to fix things that ain't broke."

Castiel looked helplessly conflicted. A smirk blossomed on Gabriel's – er, Castiel 2.0's face when he spotted something out the staff door's circular window.

"And if that little speech didn't seal the deal," he sing-sang, his tone discouragingly mischievous, "guess who just walked in."

Castiel moved to stand next to him and peered out. It was Audrey. Realizing what he'd meant, he narrowed his eyes at him. "No."

His duplicate beamed diabolically. "Oh yes."

Gabriel reached for the door handle, only to be swiftly gripped by Castiel. "Don't you dare!"

Castiel 2.0 knitted his brows theatrically. "Do you solemnly swear you are not not up to no good?"

"What? Gabriel, don't —"

"Time is of the essence," he tapped the nonexistent watch at his wrist, "and it's up!" Wrenching his hand away, Gabriel moseyed right on out the door, a playful sway in his step.

"Gabriel! I urge you to stop this!" Castiel hissed from his side of the door, gripping it so hard he was making fresh scratches. Heaven help him – he could not watch!

Tongue friskily poking out of the side of his mouth, Gabriel approached an unsuspecting Audrey, granting her a shameless once-over. "Howdy sweetness."

"Oh, hey!" she smiled, speaking through a lollipop in her mouth. "We fortuitously meet again."

"Yeah!" Gabriel, ever the sweet tooth, plucked the confectionery from her mouth, slipping it into his own. "Speaking of meetings, I think we're long overdue for another type of meeting, you feel me?"

She peered at him very studiously for a moment, belatedly perceiving the odd behavior. "What?"

"Y'know what I'm talkin' 'bout," his voice simmered to a seductive purr, putting on a sexy face while inwardly sniggering at what it may look like. "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight?"

It was then that a waiter, Brandi, burst from the staff only doors as though against her own will and staggered towards Gabriel. Audrey's eyes darted between them as she whispered something in his ear, until a smile stretched across his face.

"Thanks, kitten," he nodded, dismissing her with a charming grin.

"What was tha —" He shushed Audrey by returning her lollipop into her open mouth.

"I'll be two seconds, child —"

"Child?"

With a click of his tongue with a lecherous wink, he flustered her one last time before spinning at his heel and swaggering away.

"Wait, Cas, what are you – hey, you can't go in there, that's staff only!"

"Is it hot in here," Gabriel hollered, still bearing Castiel's visage as he entered the backroom, arms outstretched in triumph, "or is it just me?" He found him in the corner of the room, looking violated. "Having said that, I warmed her up real nice for you. Now, time for serious business." He folded his arms and adopted what was intended to be a mockery of Castiel's solemn scowl. "Do you promise not to go to Hell's Kitchen and wreak devastation on the demonic race? I want to hear you say it with those words."

"I promise not to go to Hell's Kitchen and wreak devastation on the demonic race," Castiel recited flatly.

"And you know if you break that promise, Little Red'll be encountering two very different Castiels. So unless your lady friend's into some seriously kinky stuff, I think it's safe to assume that she wouldn't be too thrilled about that. And you also know you can't keep an eye on me all the time."

"Yes, I know. You have my word," he grudgingly muttered. Gabriel stared at him with humorless eyes, either weighing the sincerity of that response or aiming straight for the mind. If he had intentions to penetrate Castiel's mind for the truth, he would have let him. Eventually, he raised his chin graciously, content with what he'd heard, and reassumed his usual self.

"I'll see that you keep that promise, Castiel." Then, the gleeful gleam returning in his eyes, he motioned the door with a grin. "Now go! Go play!"

He really didn't want to face her after that. There was the possibility that whatever he said would sound most disproportionate to whatever hot damn mess Gabriel had left in his wake.

After being virtually kicked out of the backroom like a sack of rubbish, he drew in a dignified air and advanced toward her. Already, he saw that she had caught sight of him from the corners of her eyes, but played at being wholly meticulous about the way she stirred her coffee. Once at her side, his initial intention to open with a greeting was forgone, and instead, he voiced exactly what he thought.

"What did I say?" he asked warily, not knowing if wanted to know the answer.

Practically heaving the plastic stirrer into her drink, she resounded in disbelief, "What did you say?" She turned to direct her words straight to his face, and it was then that she began to … smile?

"You propositioned me!"

He knew he didn't want to know the answer. His eyes swept up to the ceiling and trained an intensity towards it, his substitute for glaring directly at Gabriel.

"Of course I did," he grumbled discreetly to himself. His expression skewed with chagrin when it sunk back to her. "Please think nothing of it, I didn't mean it." He stopped, contemplating his words, before adding, "That's not to say that there's anything wrong with you." Unthinkingly, his eyes raked all over her. "There is … most definitely nothing wrong with you," he said lamely. "You are a very desirable young woman and naturally I would want to." He considered his words. "Not that I do." And considered them again. "Not that I don't." His mind offered nothing but static. "Uh —"

"I'm," she began, stalling him with a gloved finger to his lips, "going to give you the very, very," she took a deep breath, "very generous benefit of the doubt."

Unable to comprehend either his immense luck or her immense lack of sense, he stared at her. "You are unbelievable." Even he was unsure if he meant that with a positive or negative tenor.

She was noticeably wavering as to how to take that, before smiling. "Thank you."

So she took it as a compliment. A part of him reasoned against it. "That … wasn't quite a compliment," he said awkwardly.

She blinked owlishly at him, truly at a loss with what to do with him. "You are … a very mystifying," her perturbed expression grew oddly affectionate, "but lucky man, Castiel."

That he was. In fact, he was so taken aback by his own luck (or again, her complete lack of sense) that he was unprepared for her lips being sweetly pressed to his. He was close to responding when she pulled away. But only slightly. Right away, it became apparent to him that she had intended to pull away completely and leave … but something was pinning her right there.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired lowly, staring down at her, not minding the proximity at all.

It was as though she failed to hear him for a heated moment. Then, she caught herself in this abandonment, blushing at whatever thoughts that had flitted through her mind as she staggered away.

"Uh-hum, n–nothing! Just, um…" The most concupiscent smile peeked to surface, "… my imagination running off somewhat."

As she granted him a stomach curling smile, she thumbed down his mouth and slipped the lollipop inside (which, to be frank, was rather gross, bearing in mind it's been in Gabriel's mouth too). Mouthing a coquettish little goodbye, she turned and left, and his gaze lowered on her form to indeed watch all of her walk away. Earth existence had never been more pleasant. Then reality dawned.

Castiel turned around to Gabriel, who was watching not-so-discreetly from the staff doors. Pointing at him accusingly with the lollipop, he said one word.

"You."

Gabriel's eyes flew open comically, looking over his shoulder at Brandi as he jolted to flee. "RUN!"

If it wasn't obvious, the opening parody song goes to the tune of Katy Perry's "California Gurls". BTW, nu-Castiel is dead to me. Hate the new costume. Hate the lack of James Dean-esque hair. In my story, the season four/five wardrobe and season four hairstyle prevails. Nu-Castiel can die in a fire. Unless the new costume I saw was just for the one photoshoot. In which case this rant is irrelevant.

Read and review :D