Dean's hands twirled about in the air in an effort to stall further communiqué from the two angels to sort out what had been so far imparted to him.

"Okay okay – let me get this straight," he interjected, before alternating a frown between both angels, "you're allies now?"

Both were prepared to respond, but Gabriel was swifter to sound off.

"Don't be so bleak, Dean," Gabriel rebuked, glowering theatrically, "We've always been allies. Allies who resented each other's presence along the same frontier, yes, but allies all the same. Now," he canted his head back to grin stupidly at Castiel, who didn't grant him so much as a glance, "we're friendly! Aren't we?" The grin coiled into a smirk at his deliberate silence, and he turned back to the brothers. "Strictly speaking, he's just not so indisposed to my natural charisma anymore."

It right away appeared that Dean was all set to commence mouthing off his angel, when Sam chimed in.

"Castiel, were you planning on telling us about your alliance?" he asked, electing a more permissive stance than his older brother.

The implication of the word had him grimly lowering his head. "This is not a diplomatic alliance," Castiel clarified bluntly. His austerity quickly lost momentum when he realized what he had to state next. It was a fact that he had yet to admit the reality of, even to himself. "This is a familial bond that has simply come to be amicable."

Foreseeably, a remark from Gabriel came forth without delay. "Tskawww, I love you too."

"This is just mental!" Dean burst aggressively, scowling critically at all three of them as though alone in this judgment.

"Why do you believe so?" Castiel was quick to challenge. "You know just as considerably as I do that he is immanently good-intentioned."

Again, the stupid grin maneuvered his away. "Sticking up for me? That's love right there."

For the first time in ten minutes, Castiel turned the darkest of looks to Gabriel. "I'm making an effort to absolve myself, not dignify you."

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean communicated with their eyes, seeking some form of conclusion or agreement but to no avail.

"Alright," Dean went on, awkwardly maintaining his authority, "well, then, what's all this about magic muffins?" At his regard, he seared Gabriel with a glare. "What's your game this time?"

His brow lifted incredulously. "What's my game?" he snorted, sweeping a look across each of them, "Who says that?" When no one joined him in laughter, he moderated finally. "'kay, that little trick o' mine? Benign," he declared decidedly. "And! Is it my fault that some halfwit of ample proportions ate one of my muffins on a high construction project? No it is not. It's not 1932! Construction workers aren't supposed to bring their tin lunch pails onto the crossbeams!"

Considering all three of their identically unmoved faces, he spat out a humorless laugh. "If it reassures you chaps any, the "curse" only lasts for three months." Curiosity tinged their features, to which he explained himself to. "I figured three months was how long it would take for the novelty to wear off. Comedy has its expiration date. Look at Eddie Murphy."

The inquisitive tinge on their faces receded, and he was in the presence of blank canvases again. "Guys!" he laughed, "I am harmless!"

"Uh, no," Dean disputed, frowning insistently, "no, actually, you are potentially harmful. Just with good intentions under all of that swagger, and a cosmic lust for fun."

"That is to say –" he lifted an eyebrow cockily, smirking, "– human?"

Unimpressed, Dean's brow lowered further, letting it persist for a few extra moments as he discreetly asked, "What do you think?" He looked to Sam. "What should we do?"

"He's an archangel. And the Trickster," Sam replied flatly through the end of a sigh, "What can we do?"

"Well this is fun!" Gabriel raved fondly to all, "It's like a gay, incestuous, double date, isn't it?" Wistfulness glazed over his eyes. "A thing of storybooks…"

"I know what I wanna do," Dean grunted his reply, "I wanna get the hell outta here. I hate New York."

Castiel, who had been devoting attention to the brothers and not Gabriel, asked, "Why?"

Momentarily surprised to find him listening, Dean replied, "This city is a place for hipsters. Pretentious douches who make these parts of America more sacred than Jerusalem with their entire "holier-than-thou" attitude. They pretend to like things like underground bands and Dandy Warhol."

"Andy Warhol," Sam corrected.

"Hipster," Dean sneered.

"Peasant," Sam scorned in jest. Dean glared.

"Oh and, here's the kicker. I had to pay fifty freakin' dollars to park my car – fifty!" he ranted on. "Why don't they just take my blood? I swear, this city will be screwing me so much I'll be leaving with some kind of venereal disease."

"How 'bout that. You really are a peasant," snickered Gabriel.

"I don't understand the reason for your indignation," Castiel said, tilting his head in an attempt to understand, "I recently provided you with ten thousand dollars."

"You're a tightfisted peasant."

Though Dean evidently had more to steam to blow, something occurred to Castiel.

"Wait." His expression was vacant until he looked at Gabriel, his gaze then seething. "You tried to sell Audrey one of your cursed creations?"

"Oh please!" Gabriel cried in genuine disdain, shrinking Castiel's temper. "Give me some credit! Why would I waste these past couple of months in brotherly rehab with you, listening to you lust after this broad, meanwhile giving you my words of wisdom – which, at the rate you're asking for it, I should start charging – only to then turn around and do you an injustice." He eyed him scathingly. "What is it, Castiel? Do you have zero faith in me, whatsoever?"

That translated to an emphatic "no". Castiel lowered his eyes ruefully. Reluctant to apologize, he feebly hit back, "For what it's worth, I did not betray you to Sam and Dean."

There was a flicker in his eyes in response, an indication that he was scouring his mind for the truth. Satisfied to find that it was, high spirits resurfaced with a smirk. "It's cool. I believe you."

Somewhat disturbed by this exchange, Dean whirled around to Sam. "Okay, seriously, dude, what do we do?"

Sam listlessly threw up his hands with nothing to offer. "Find another case?"

"I mean now. With them. With this damn city!" he raised his voice especially for the premises. He examined his watch. "With the fact that I have to recharge my parking meter soon."

"Just head back to the motel, I guess," Sam replied, fast resigned to this plan, "Maybe give Bobby a call?"

Both brothers looked at Gabriel when he snorted derisively. "Sacré bleu, your plans are just as pitiful as your earlier demonstrated acting skills. You're in New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of! There's nothing you can't do! So, have some fun!"

Sam huffed a cheerless laugh. "Yeah. We renounced the whole idea of fun a long time ago."

Dean nodded drearily. "Yeah, let's be honest, our fun only lasts as much as whatever beer bottle we're sipping from."

"Beer, huh? I know a good place." At their attention, Gabriel elaborated. "MacLaren's Pub. You should check it out." They regarded him oddly, as though hesitant to take suggestions from, well, him. He beamed, and wildly gestured the door. "Go on! Scoot! Get your drink on!"

Sam, almost reluctantly, peered at Dean. "You wanna?" he asked lamely.

"Couldn't hurt," Dean shrugged, an underlying trace of delight present. "Maybe I'll wake up in some girl's bed," he mused wistfully, beginning to smirk, "Beats the ones we're paying for."

"What about you, Castiel?" Gabriel questioned slyly. "Do you also see yourself waking up in a girl's bed tomorrow morning?"

Both brothers' regards snapped to him widely, thoroughly disturbed by that notion but curious to hear his answer.

"This conversation just got weird," Dean mumbled to Sam from one side of his mouth. Gabriel heard it and grinned smugly.

"Obviously he doesn't talk to you peasants about his extracurricular activities as much as he does with me!"

"If this "peasants" thing is gonna stick, I'm suing that girl," Dean muttered moodily.

"Legal action? I encourage it. It's the only kind of action she'll be getting in a while." Gabriel glanced back at Castiel. "Unless you have something to do about it."

"So that was Audrey?" Dean interrogated in disbelief. "Dude, when you mentioned her having red hair, I thought you meant, like, ordinary red hair. Like little orphan Annie, or Conan. Or that kid from Harry Potter." He paused, staring into the distance as he recalled it. "Seriously, that hair is just insane."

Gabriel pressed a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if she's natural red head." His eyes lit up. "Ooh. Here's a thought." He looked at Castiel. "Why don't you go find out for me?" The curtain of his theatrics began to fall as his slyness began to seep through. "I know a place you could look to learn the answer."

After much patience, Castiel's gaze flared at him. "Why are you pushing this?"

For a moment, Gabriel simply smiled dryly at him, as though the answer needn't be said. Instead, he began to sing, in the tune of a certain Grease song:

"Look at you, you must agree, you're lousy with virginity! Won't fornicate 'til the millionth date, you're a prude as it would seem!"

A death glare was fired his way before turning to the brothers, ignoring the shade of amusement on their faces. "What are your plans?"

"That depends." Dean turned a suspicious scowl onto Gabriel. "What are your plans?"

"My plans go the flow of my instincts," Gabriel replied airily, fluttering a hand to illustrate, "so God only knows," he smirked, "Ask him."

Eyes contemplating him, Dean dithered, looking insufferably conflicted. He whipped around to Sam. "This doesn't feel right. You know? Just leaving him here and doing nothing?"

"Well… it's not like he's totally under the radar. Castiel's around," Sam argued weakly, gesturing the two angels.

"I guess," Dean granted thinly. Said angel stepped forward with an air of great duty.

"He will be under my constant vigilance," he said.

"Right, whenever you're not chasing that skirt," Gabriel quipped, rolling his eyes.

"Audrey is beyond her skirt," Castiel retorted.

"As in, outside the physical confines of? I'd have to disagree with you there, but hey, feel free to prove me wrong. Send pictures too."

As the angel brothers shared their usual look – one scowling and the other grinning mirthfully – the human brothers paralleled the look with equally discomfited expressions. Together, they chorused:

"I need a drink."

Delivering the Winchester brothers to MacLaren's Pub meant staying for an additional ten minutes to watch Dean have all his women stolen from him by a very familiar looking blond in a designer suit. Just when he had warmed up to a nice brunette by the name of Robin, the blond coolly approached, swung his arm around her and navigated her away without further word.

"Hey! Armani!" Dean had barked. The blond had turned, eyebrow raised in that typical overweening New York yuppie manner. "Did it not occur to you that we were having a conversation?"

The blond had simply looked at him up and down and derisively snickered, "Please."

Unable to retaliate as he had turned away from the Winchester, he had spun around to Castiel and Sam, who was nursing his own drink and not at all bothering to hide a smile. Sam clinked his glass against the one Dean held numbly in his hands.

"Let's hear it for New York," Sam said dryly, as Dean plunked down on his seat, grumbling something about yuppies under his breath. Not too soon after, Castiel had left them to their own devices, and was now standing by elevator doors that lead to Audrey's apartment, monitoring the revolving threshold of Bloomberg Tower. Finally, who he had no doubt been waiting for walked through.

"Cas?" Audrey acknowledged, her surprise slowing her step for a moment and delaying a smile, "What are you doing here?"

"I apologize for earlier," he said simply, pushing off from the wall and approaching her. "I want to give you this," he stopped before her and held out a muffin.

Immediately, she smiled open-mouthed as she gushed, "Oh, that is so sweet! But," the smile crooked awkwardly, as she raised the paper bag she'd been holding, "I kinda already went to another place to get my hands on some, but I'll take it." Accepting it from him, she squinted at it. "This is a cupcake."

"What's the difference?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, placing it inside the bag with the others, "Muffins are just ugly cupcakes, anyway." She smiled wryly for a moment before tapping him on the arm. "So how did things go with your brother and your…" she fumbled with the reality, "…friends?"

"It was all a misunderstanding," he replied, following her to the elevator doors.

"So I could have had my muffins?" she lifted an eyebrow, her tone vaguely annoyed.

With his silence, he stopped her from walking further. He fixed her with a conflicted gaze. "I still recommend that you don't go there anymore," he told her carefully.

"Yeah okay," she passively agreed, shrugging. Clearly, her concerns lied elsewhere, becoming clearer when she grinned. "What an interesting night. I learned that you've had a brother at the Starbucks place I frequent, and your friends and colleagues dress very unalike to you. And apparently," she narrowed her eyes, "you're a powerful guy." There was a pregnant pause as her narrowed eyes became a look of suspicion. "Taking into account your colleagues, and what they wear, not to mention how they were handling your brother…" her eyes resumed normalcy, her smile sheepish, "… I'm honestly without ideas." She inflicted him with an imploring look. "Will you ever, ever tell me your job?"

He gave her a look that would be received as one of painful admiration, when in fact he was apologizing silently but profusely to her. And although he knew he didn't deserve to, he pulled her closer by the shoulder and kissed her tenderly. When he pulled away, he stayed close, neither looking at the other but between them. He said one word when the elevator doors ding!-ed open.

"Goodnight," he said, turning to leave.

No more than five steps were taken before he heard her shyly call out for him. "Castiel…"

He stopped and turned to her. "Yes?"

She had yet to turn back around to him, facing the open elevator cart and tapping a finger on the door frame, contemplating. Moments later, the tapping stopped, and she turned to face him with an air of resolution. Something different was banked in her eyes.

"My TV's been playing up lately. You think you could come up and give it a look-see?"

Had he been holding something, he would have dropped it. That was it. The bluff. That was one of the signs Gabriel had versed him about. She wanted it. She wanted him.

That fact was being admirably masked, as she merely looked at him evenly, awaiting his response. Her eyes gave her away. With enough effort – and Castiel was always one to do his utmost when it came to obtaining what was required – one could glean her ulterior intentions from her eyes. Whatever simmered hotly behind them could have easily been misinterpreted for mild impatience, but in context to what her bluff indicated, it most certainly was something more carnal.

It was in his hands now. Shall he take that statement and make it literal? One would think that that guilty conscience of his was obnoxiously overriding any other impulses that were fighting for authority, but frustration – a novel sort of frustration that stirred low within him, inflaming furiously with every little thing she did – barred any chance of it consuming him. Thus, he was left with nothing but the exact same feeling she no doubt reflected behind the veil in her eyes, clouding the depth of her desire.

So, he joined her in the elevator.

I really didn't want to post this chapter because it's 80% completed, but I have to wake up in about six hours to catch a plane. I'm jetting off to Sydney for a few days with my best friend for her acting school audition, so I wouldn't be able to update until I got back. So, sorry about that, lol. Might edit it a bit more when I return; I'll let you know if I do. Anyways. Wish my best friend good luck! :D

Read and review :)