Irony seemed to enjoy Castiel's company. Too bad the feeling wasn't mutual. There was once a time when he struggled for intimacy with Audrey, but in that campaign he had met more snakes than ladders. Now, he aspired only to sit her down and inflict her with the truth, but every time she saw him, she wanted … him. His mere presence keyed the ignition of her indomitable sex drive, and although he knew he shouldn't take it for a spin anymore, it was just such a nice ride. How's that for a metaphor.

It didn't help that he was, in many and most ways, being rewarded for his constant submission, so it had come to the point that he required reinforcement.

He knocked on the door of one of the many New York University study rooms, and it opened to him by Professor. As his accomplice-for-the-day, he didn't look at all surprised to see the angel.

"Is she in there?" Castiel asked intently, as though ensuring his side of an underhanded deal was being met.

The door was only opened enough to encompass a view of Professor, who peered over his shoulder. "She's, ah, right where you want her to be," he mumbled discreetly. His head turned back to the angel, now wearing a small sidelong smile. "She thinks she's here for a private study session." The smile persisted, but his eyes considered him pensively. "I–I know it's not my place to muscle in on," he began fumblingly, "but… are you, are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he grunted, a little irked to hear this question again after enduring it so much in his mind, "This seems to be the only method promising the intended effectuation without fail. At other times, she invariably insists on proceeding directly into sexual activity –" Professor immediately looked very uncomfortable, "– so I presumed, in this environment, she would have more reserve. My aim is to negotiate her attention in such a way that will allow me to be frank with her about who and what I am, with the guarantee that she will listen." He paused thoughtfully. Then sighed.

"She has been quite inconvenient of late," he gravely went on, failing to perceive the look of incredulity on Professor's face at both the word "inconvenient" and the disappointment in his tone. "On one occasion, she accidentally spilled wine on me while I was attempting to tell her, and then became determined to clean me off through very unnecessary methods —"

"OKAY, I DON'T NEED TO HEAR THE DETAILS!" Professor sputtered, chuckling awkwardly to veil his desperation. He extended the door further and stepped aside. "Well, uh, she's all yours, pal!"

Audrey sat at the study table in the middle of the modest room, head bowed and her back to him. He steeled himself. Here we go. The door shut behind him as he drew closer. Professor's presence remained. It had been agreed that he would stand by to vouch for his revelation if called for. He rounded the table, drawing into her line of vision, and once she caught sight of him, he spoke.

"Audrey," he said by way of greeting. She said nothing, but instead beamed brilliantly, surprised but delighted to see him. What a shame that he had to be the one to remove that smile.

"I am an angel of the Lord." She blinked. More substance was needed. "I am an angel of the Lord, which consequently means that God, indeed, exists. Nearly five years ago, God assigned me to earth to do everything in his best interest to forestall what was the impending Apocalypse at the time. Though it was only narrowly avoided, it left Heaven in anarchy, of which I was then assigned to rectify. Since then, I've been entrusted to keep a close vigil on earth, and especially Sam and Dean Winchester. You've met them. Perhaps you remember. They're hunters. They are the chosen vessels for archangels Lucifer and Michael respectively. I often operate with them in their missions to locate and dispose of dark creatures that walk the earth."

Every effort was trained to follow her expression but he knew she wasn't actually responding at all. Either she didn't believe him or she was willfully keeping her reactions in check.

"I hope you can forgive me for lying," he murmured evenly, his solemn expression melting into one of remorse, "I didn't know how deeply acquainted we would become when I first encountered you."

Finally, her eyes stirred, now contemplating him curiously. Then, she lifted her hands, disappearing them under her hair…

… and pulled our her iPod earbuds.

"I'm sorry, what?" she inquired, cocking her head ingenuously. "Cas?" she inquired again when he went ashen. He practically trembled with frustration as he flounced (yes, flounced) out of the room, passing Professor, who was straining to hide the amusement on his face. Her gaze saw him out and stopped on Professor. She shrugged at him. "Hm. Must not've been important."

Professor lifted his brow at her in a "You have no idea" sort of way before his cell phone chimed. "Oh shoot," he muttered upon inspection.

"What?"

"Ummm," he waffled at his feet for a few seconds before stilling and holding a hand out to her, "Wait here."

Castiel had his temple rested against the wall – not bashing against it, but tempted to – when Professor stumbled out the door. Spotting the angel immediately, he hurried toward him.

"Castiel! I have to leave! I–I just remembered my church is having this thingy I have to attend to in, uh, approximately twenty minutes, so, heh, I'm gonna have to bail." He spoke right over any attempts the angel had made to speak, guffawed as though the turn of events was hilarious, and then began to hustle him back toward the door. "Go back in there and give it another try!"

"Absolutely not," Castiel shot back intensely, abruptly wheeling around and making him recoil. "If I am left alone with her, she'll," he paused, sifting out a phrase he's heard but never used himself, "throw herself at me. Do you know how many failed attempts I have had in the past week?"

"Please, for my sake, I do not want to know. J–just…" he sighed, searching for words of advice but finding he's run dry. "Okay, I'll tell her to behave."

Like that would work. Before Castiel had the chance to verbalize his pessimism, Professor reentered the study room. "Audrey! Hey! Sorry, I actually gotta bail; I just remembered I have this other really important appointment, church stuff, I'm so sorry. Castiel has volunteered to mind you for the hour."

Her initial reaction was of willing acceptance, but upon that additional piece of information, her eyes went straight to the angel. There it was, in no time. The gleam. Oh no. He was doomed.

"Oh. Okie dokie, then. That's totally fine, s'all good." With a tone that breezy, it was no wonder Professor couldn't grasp what Castiel could.

A cautionary edge was attached to his tone. "You promise to get your work done?"

She looked with great purpose to Castiel (who inwardly grimaced, knowing exactly what that meant for his future) as she answered, "Promise." Then back at Professor. "You still cool for tonight?"

"Affirmative. I'll be there with bells on!" he replied cheerily, backing out and exiting the room, careful to steer clear of the angel's beseeching stare. Audrey joined him at the door to watch him leave.

"Bye!" she shouted, waving fanatically at his shrinking figure. Once it became obscured by a door, her gaze adjusted back into the immediate foreground, where Castiel was, and a shadow full of suggestion pulled over her expression of childlike enthusiasm that very instant. "Pants off and get inside."

"The room?"

With a growl of appetite, she snatched a hold of his belt and used it as leverage to lug him inside, kicking the door shut behind her. She cradled his head with both hands and kissed him cravingly, her tongue slipping past the defense of his teeth a second later. It all happened so fast that he didn't have time to properly put up his defenses for this. Hence it became so, so easy to respond. Not so easy to stop. Not even for an angel who's known for his resilience.

The back of his legs met the study table he'd been maneuvered into, compelling him to sit down. He fumbled for purchase on the surface as she sidled onto his lap, straddling him. When she gave his neck a sample of her mercilessly talented tongue, he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his head.

Why must this feel so good? It wasn't fair.

He was losing himself so much that he allowed her to lay him down when she listed into him. His hands cruised up and down her back while she arched over to explore his mouth. He could do this all day if he wanted to. And he did, so much.

Though it would be painful, he had to embrace that shard of self-restraint being offered to him by his surviving good sense.

Gently, he pressed a hand to her chest, urging her away. Both were panting when they parted. "Audrey," he breathed, "I need to talk to you."

"Noooo, no talking," she mewled petulantly. Her eyes darkened and she added a suggestive note to her voice. "Unless," she sneaked her tongue over his lips and he shuddered at the ache it brought to his restraint, "it's a different kind of talking. Which you know I'm fluent in."

She thieved his mouth again in a competitive kiss, but this time, with all the force he possessed, he sat up, upraising her with him. A whimper spurt from her denied lips when he gripped her chin and held her away. The sound of her greed provoked him, tempted him to simply bring her starved lips forward to his once more, to satisfy both their appetites. But, he refrained.

Frustrated, his voice became nothing more than a growl.

"Stop it."

"How forceful you are, Brad. Such a perfect specimen of manhood. So… dominant," she purred the quote, welcoming the new position by caressing up and down his body with hers, appreciating. Her words confused him into sobriety, suspecting it was a quote but deciding not to ask, before he then shifted to his feet. She succeeded his place on the table.

"Audrey, I must say something," he said, finding his grim tone disproportionate to the situation. Especially when she was peeling off her gloves with her teeth.

"Mhm, me too," she breathed. With bare hands, she clawed the air at him in a fluid motion, while making a purring, growling sound. The sight was so silly, but uncomfortably silly, as he had grown to find most of the silly things she did rather charming, and therefore tempting. He tore away his somewhat diverted regard, forcing on a face of absolute solemnity. It took more effort to walk away.

"No," he managed stiffly, "something must be said, and it must be said n…" His word of "now" trailed off when he turned back around and saw that she too had gotten to her feet and was now prowling after him. As they circled the table in a sort of one-sided pursuit, a slow grin spread itself across her face, as though she knew he would be hers in due course. She was a predator hounding its prey. And a part of him wanted her to catch him and do with him what she will.

"I suggest you take a seat," he said, gesturing one of the four seats framing the table they were orbiting.

"I'll need something to sit on. I choose you!"

"Audrey, stop this immediately —"

"I love it when you get bossy."

"This must end at once —"

"What's the matter? I don't bite. Much."

"There's something I need to do —"

"Yes, and that's me!"

"No, there's something that's needed to be said —"

"I'll let you put it anywhere."

"And it's crucial that you listen to every word I say —"

"Come here, Cas."

The torrent of words serving to separate them fell flat to her unyielding tenacity. At this point, she had driven him into a corner, indulging attention to his neck. It slit the throat of discipline and spilling from it was his restraint, and he tried every manual method in closing the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut. Bit his lip. Held her, feather light, at her shoulders; too opposed to push her away but futilely enforced a show of control. The effort was negated altogether when his body reacted in the worst of ways. Oh, the things she did to him.

A frustrated groan began to build at the bottom of his throat, rising with intensity and emerging through his lips by way of savagely kissing her.

His hand slid down to the small of her back, seeming so graceful in comparison to the rest of her body, which was clinging keenly around him as her peak took her by surprise. Since the force of his erratic movements kept pushing her further back on the table, the purpose of this hand was to hold her in place. As it turned out, being in an academic environment didn't stimulate more reserve in her, but only the obligation to keep noises to a minimum, which she was barely adhering to. If he hadn't been finding pleasure in it similarly, this whole outcome would have irritated him.

A ragged sigh poured from her lips as her head limply fell back into his waiting hand, basking in gratification. Both equally spent, they sagged onto the table beneath them.

"Sex on a study table," she mused breathlessly with a lazy but satisfied smile, "That's off my bucket list." Her fingers ventured up to brush through his hair that was always conveniently messed for the occasion, and along the way she spotted the murk in his eyes, influencing hers to appear the same. "Hey. Is something wrong?"

It was odd how quickly brought down to earth he had been after such consuming acts of intimacy. The beating heart under the floorboards was haunting him in every second of clarity. Gabriel was right; this really was a tale worthy of Edgar Allan Poe.

His hands, which had been gripping her waist for support, wafted up to cradle her face tenderly.

"What am I to you?" he asked, his gaze searching. Her expression of warm patience wilted into one of discomfort, to which he questioned, "What?"

He felt her body urge to sit up, so, to accommodate, he rolled off of her to sit on the table instead, and she soon did likewise. She fidgeted a little, awkwardly adjusting her clothes from her seated position, while glancing bashfully at him.

"I'm not good with this sentimental stuff," she admitted, smiling wryly. She glanced down at him. Lifted an eyebrow. "Well, firstly." She reached over, tucked him away and zipped his fly. "And secondly," the same hand roamed aside to knead his thigh fondly as she drew in his gaze to hers, "You are my boyfriend. And I'm mad about you."

"Why are you mad?"

Her affectionate gaze flattened momentarily before finding amusement in it. "No, it's an idiom, it means that I really, really like you."

He peered down at her hand on his thigh, frowning as he pondered her words. "I don't deserve this."

Her brow shot up and she peeled her hand away. "Offense taken!"

"That's not what I meant," he said, taking her hand before it could get away and contemplating it. "I've been meaning to tell you that I… I am…"

"Oh," her face slumped sympathetically, "Oh Cas, babe," she patted his thigh, almost in consolation, "I think I know what you're gonna say."

He straightened up, surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah." Her lips pressed together pityingly. "And I'm not sure if it's really wise that you say it."

"What difference does it make if you already know?"

"I really like you, Cas, but if you say it, it will complicate things."

He sized her up in challenge. "I'm prepared to face that."

She gave him a humored look. "I don't think you are. Don't say it now. I'm not sure I'm ready to hear it."

"But if you know it, what's the difference?"

"Because I'm not sure if I'm in love with you!"

Pause. His head tilted questioningly. "What?"

Another pause. Her eyes widened, realizing her misinterpretation. "What?"

"What were you talking about?"

"What were you talking about?"

His eyes narrowed, sweeping them up and down at her. "I'm hesitant to believe that we were talking about the same matter."

"I don't think we were!" she exclaimed, aghast.

Yet another pause. He studied her. "What were you discussing?"

"No no!" she cried, leaping to her feet and scuttling away. A finger was shook desperately at him. "I–I wanna know what you were going on about!"

"I'm more interested in your concerns."

"Well I'm more interested in yours!"

And yet another pause. This was so awkward. Thankfully, his (new) cell phone began to ring (and the ringtone once again had been sneakily set to the song from his Saturday Night Live spoof; dammit Dean Winchester!). His eyes never left her as he pulled it out and answered. Even from across the room, he could feel her blush as she inspected the floor with an undeserved amount of interest.

"Hello? … Yes. … Where are you. … I'll be there immediately."

"Who was that? she asked with forced casualness the instant the phone left his ear. He did not answer.

Knowing she would miss it, he only responded with the slightest of knowing smiles, before moving toward her. It was as if she thought avoiding his eye would refute whatever she thought he gleaned from her earlier misinterpretation, as she continued to stare determinedly at the floor when he stood before her. One hand gripped her chin and tilted her head up, compelling her to look at him.

It was then that he allowed her his most amused of glances he had never granted anyone else.

"For what it's worth, I, too, am mad at you."

It made him smile when she blushed at his words, and she still ventured to correct him. "Mad about me."

"Yes."

When she smiled, he found himself unable to leave. It took some effort to get himself moving toward the door. Her voice stopped him at the door.

"You wanna come over tonight?" she asked, seating herself back on the table and swinging her legs coyly.

"Of course," he replied to her legs, before properly giving her one last lingering glance as he left.

It was evening. Castiel knocked on her door. For the second time that day, Professor was the one to open it. Both appeared bemused by each other's presence but spoke nothing of it. In the back of his mind, he could belatedly recall Audrey confirming Professor's apparent visitation for tonight, and that he had replied that he would be there with bells on, which, incidentally, he was without.

"Is Audrey here?" he asked. Professor was about to answer when he added, "I need to tell her the truth. I was … subdued, again, today, by her," he struggled.

His brow furrowed slowly with grave disapproval. "Now… is not the right time for all that," he told him delicately, attempting a polite smile which instantly faltered under the angel's severe stare.

"There never will be a right time, not anymore," he growled bitingly, despite his rather jaded expression. "Professor, I need to be relieved of this burden immediately. Let me in."

With all the courage he could contrive, he straightened himself up to respond, "I–I'm afraid I c–can't do that, Castiel."

"I was invited," he stated. His scowl darkened as he took ominous steps forward. "Let – me – in."

Despite the look on his face suggesting he feared to be smote on the spot by this angel, he shook his head adamantly. "N–not going to happen."

He raised his head, eyes shining dangerously but with a trace of admiration for the boy's quivering but existent backbone.

"I'll let myself in."

Professor's mouth opened, head cocked with the subtext of "And how exactly are you going to do that?" when the angel vanished. He grimaced, realizing what had happened. He had teleported inside somewhere. When a scream ripped from the kitchen, he knew where.

Well damn. That was one staggering drop in reviews in the last chapter. Perhaps I should have left the sexual content out, lol. Thanks to all who did though! BTW, I envy all of you having a white Christmas. Christmas, here, in the heat? And the storms and the rain? NOT CHRISTMAS. Someone get me out of this hell hole that is the Southern Hemisphere.

Read and review :D