A/N: So yeah these are my wing headcanons beoop (From the archives!) Also, this takes place around season 9. Enjoy!
“And how does this work again?” You stare down at the glasses, furrowing your brow. “Is this another trick?” you grumble, flicking your eyes to Gabriel.
“Dipped in holy oil, just trust me,” he nods his head, smiling as you slide on the glasses. You blink a few times, flinching back when you see his wings. Bright white, golden speckled fluffy feathers that look soft enough to sleep on. “Well?”
“They’re…wow.”
“Right? Wait till you see the rest,” he smiles, snapping his fingers. When you turn around you’re in a fancy hotel room with a view of twinkling city lights.
“Nice of you to stop in,” Balthazar says without looking up from his glass of wine. “Actually I was lying, seeing you is always dreadful.”
“Always the gentlemen,” you chuckle. As he stands from his seat his wings flutter; long and smooth silver feathers all laying flat down. Balthazar frowns, following your gaze until he lands on his left wing.
“Lovely, aren’t they?”
“Yeah but I guess that goes with everything about you,” you chuckle, grinning as he cracks a smile.
“Was that flirting?” Balthazar crosses his arms, cocking an eyebrow. You shrug, groaning when you’re glitched out of the room.
“Watching my bro flirt is literally worse than everything,” Gabriel grumbles. You stare around the black plain, furrowing your brow when you see a single cage. You lower your eyes to the ground, realizing… there is no ground. Gabriel guides you forward with a small grin.
“I coulda skipped seeing Lucifer’s, I’m pretty sure I know how they look,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Black and gnarly and…” you let your voice trail off as you see a pale white light. Lucifer looks up, furrowing his brow, nudging Michael with a scoff.
“Visitors – didn’t I kill you?” he chuckles, pointing to Gabe. “Why’s the other one staring at me?” He looks down at himself, perplexed. You keep your eyes on his wings, words lost to you. Long white feathers that reach the ground, each of them seeming to have their own glowing light. Lucifer smirks, running his fingers over his feathers. “Oh, these?” he asks. You nod, turning your gaze to Michael’s wings. Bronze, metallic, fanning out almost like a peacock. Michael barely acknowledges your presence. Instead, he drums his fingers on the cage. Gabriel whistles and snaps his fingers. When you blink, you’re in the bunker, staring around in confusion. You pause as you see a deep blue feather float past, gently falling to the ground. You follow the trail of feathers until you find Castiel wrapped in a blanket and watching TV. His wings are thin, almost bare, with deep blue feathers falling from the bones. But as he chuckles at the sitcom on the TV, a collection of smooth blue feathers sprout like flowers blooming. You smile, raising your hand to the glasses.
“Had enough?” Gabe asks.
“I figure that’s a good note to –”
“Hey Y/N,” Sam cuts you off, patting you on the back as he passes.
“Hey Sam – Sam?” you frown, staring at the sky blue wings stretching behind him. He frowns back, his face going blank with a flash of blue light.
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“Gabe,” Balthazar calls absently, wandering into the kitchen where he can smell cookies baking. The children are playing at the fairy court today, guests of Titania and Oberon’s daughter, Lily and son, Ash. “What if we put a tree bed in Thea’s room? Like a loft bed, but we make it look like a treehouse? She’s getting too big for her flower bed,” it’s low to the ground, a lotus blossom of pillows and soft padding from toddler days, “and I think she’d love it. Thoughts?”
Gabriel’s sitting on the kitchen counter, idly levitating a mixing bowl to prepare some particularly unearthly-delicious blondies. The whisk stirs the batter by itself, like some comically whimsical scene from a Disney animated feature sporting the very type of fairies with whom Balthazar’s kids play.
“IIIII think that c’n be managed with a little snap-snapping,” he ventures, “unless you wanna go native an’ do it manually....?”
Playfully, his Grace flickers alight behind hazel eyes, promising heavenly might to fuel this extremely crucial activity.
Or “I over-identify with a fictional character, what’s new.” Some random ass thoughts because it’s two in the morning and why not.
I’ve always been bugged by that scene when Balth and Freddie are talking about love and Balth says he just wants “that moment” when you don’t need words, you just “get” each other (sorry for the bad paraphrasing; haven’t seen the ep for a while). And Freddie says, “You don’t want flowers. You want to be wooed by telepathy.” Balth says yeah, but it’s clear that that isn’t really what he means. I’ve always felt weird about that conversation, because it sort of ignores the fact that communication is really important for a relationship (romantic or otherwise).
But now I’m starting to think about communication as a broader way of describing understanding each other. And I don’t think it has to be verbal. Yes, Balthazar probably should try to talk to Peter. But I’m also thinking about how even when they are talking they’re both misinterpreting so much. Like when Peter asks Balth out to coffee and Balth assumes it’s a friends thing so Peter invites Freddie and Ben. Or the disastrous conversation about “potential.”
Also, it’s honestly EXHAUSTING trying to make someone understand what you mean, like confronting them, telling them what you need from a relationship. Balth says, “You can’t sit someone down and tell them how to be” (or something like that). I think he’s wrong. I think you can. But it’s so hard and frustrating and just exhausting.
People just want to be understood. They crave it I think. And it sucks when it feels like people aren’t making the effort to try to understand you. Honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I guess I’m just thinking about how Balth is talked about as being so “passive” in the fandom. And he is a lot of the time. But I think it stems from insecurities and communicating with others in a way that’s not necessarily verbal. And yeah, he’s passive aggressive and he’s kind of shit at being open to people about what he needs. But it’s so hard and it’s exhausting. More so for some people than others I think. Anyway, this has been a great ramble of over-projecting. I love Stanley Balthazar Jones. Good night.
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