Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man who has just discovered that his ex-wife is now married, is in need of a beer or two.

Especially if he has had the privilege of still maintaining a friendship for years after with the ex. Of still offering advice on her portfolio in the stock market, therefore helping her to earn a substantial amount of money. And now she obviously deliberately chose to withhold the news that she's married to man with a name that sounds like an extra-terrestrial being.

"Evlek Beeker," Castiel mumbled, scowling over his beer and Pete, the cheerful bartender with a pot belly, paused wiping down the counter to stare at his friend. "Who the fuck names their baby Evlek?"

"I've heard worst. Cupcake. Apple. Hitler. Donald…"

"I'm not politically affiliated," the dark disheveled hair man reminded the other man.

"Was talking 'bout Donald Duck. But okay," Pete offered a wide grin when Castiel turned flat blue eyes in his direction. "But look consider it a good thing that she's handed over to this guy so she doesn't have to call you at two in the morning to ask about how the DOW is doing."

"Her portfolio sucks," Castiel said bitterly. "So does her flat in Massachusetts. And her attitude too."

Pete was highly amused.

The man was an epitome for a deliberate high school dropout. Had chosen to act rebellious against his wealthy family to pursue his dreams as a journalist. Now, after knowing each other for close to ten years, Castiel Novak was still an enigma.

He had recently turned forty, never had a girlfriend since Hanna. Always wore those funny t-shirts with questionable slogans plastered on the front. Black sneakers. Tight black pants. And that damn black frame glasses that gave him the appearance of Clark Kent just waiting to rip off his basic attire to save the world.

Only in the newspapers business, Castiel was one of the 'Lead Journalists' which basically gifted him with his own office, printer and laptop. A decent view of New York Central Park. A bookcase crammed with magazines, Readers Digest, The Economist and newspapers from around the globe. And on his polished wooden desk, there was an antique lantern he had bought from a shop in Maine, three pens lined up with precision: red, blue and black.

Now Pete wasn't a brainer. But he was pretty good at reading people from their attire, countenance and demeanor. So, ten years ago when Castiel Novak stumbled into his bar, on the verge of breaking things after discovering that his wife was cheating on him, Pete offered both his ears and his heart.

He learned over the years that friendship bloomed the most when we find persons who genuinely cared enough to listen to our woes.

Collecting the remote, Pete turned up the volume on the television in the bracket above the bar.

"Hey," he said frowning at the headlines, "what's your take on the Prince?"

"Huh?" Castiel sipped his beer and glared at the television.

If he could have seen her now. Hanna. He would possibly flare up, spittle flying. But then his glasses would fog up from the fumes of his rage. And she would escape, slithering away like the snake she was.

Pete sighed. "Man, stop thinking about Hanna and her alien husband. You heard the Prince is getting married in two weeks?"

"Of course, I have, I'm a journalist, Pete. It's my job to know these things," Castiel's blue eyes barely remained on the screen before returning to his beer. He couldn't care less.

"Think he's going to do a runner again?" the bartender smiled as he resumed wiping down the counter. "Got to say, the Duchess is one fine looking girl. She's from Spain. Got to be one of those fierce types in bed too. I can just imagine the Spanish rolling off of her tongue…"

"Would you grow up?" Castiel asked sourly. "And while you're at it, hand me another beer. Better yet, make it two."

"It's your lunch hour and you shouldn't stagger into work drunk as a fish."

"I can consume a liquor store and walk in a straight line," Castiel said somberly. "And don't I have enough reason to drink? My ex wife has gotten married to E.T."

Handing over another beer, Pete sighed at his friend's blatant attempts to drown in his woes. "What's your take on Prince Dean? Got any idea why he ran from his first two weddings? Left the first one at the altar, did a run as fast as he could to Westfordshire Palace. Second one, he drove up to the church and then speeds away. With the money he's got, I'd figure that he'd have enough brains to know that when God gives you a beautiful woman, you take her."

"Rich, spoiled rotten," Castiel added in his gravelly voice with a shrug. "Gets money served to him on a platter. Has never worked his ass off like you and me. On top of that, he can afford to make all the wrong decisions because he has nothing to lose."

"I'm thinking that maybe he runs because he doesn't want to settle down, you know?" Pete's brown eyes took on a distant look. "Like me, I mean I'm pretty okay running my life by myself. Most people think I'm gay but there's happiness in working on yourself and accomplishing things by yourself. Guess you can relate."

"Maybe I can't. I have a cat that talks back to me. That's enough."

"Man, you're a lost cause."

"Evlek." Castiel rolled his eyes and sipped his beer. "It's possible that he probed her."

"Maybe he's gay," Pete frowned at the BBC reporter, blonde and busty. "The Prince. Maybe he's a hen. Are you a hen, Cas?"

"Are you asking me to come out to you during my lunch break on a wet Thursday?" Castiel tilted his head and stared blandly at his friend.

"Highly unlikely?"

"Far from ever knowing if I am perhaps entirely human at all. No, I'm not gay. I'm just socially awkward, a threat to society and a book hoarder."

"Fuck, you're weird," Pete laughed it off and tucked away his red rag under the counter. "Take the beers free and go, Mister…" he tried to make out the words on his friend's mustard color t-shirt, "…IDGAF what you think. What does that even mean?"

Thirty minutes after, Castiel briskly moved through the hallways at The Daily Scandal's command center as he loved to refer to it as. Vast number of cubicles comprising of proofreaders, editors, journalists, and empty desks of hypochondriacs. Then past the water cooler and towards his ugly gray door that always reminded him of the entrance to a prison cell.

"It's Zachariah," Morales, the asshole who was his boss' male delinquent secretary poked his head into Castiel's sanctuary. Today his curly hair was wild like a lion. "He wants to talk to you. Something about stashing the coffee filters down your trousers."

"Fuck off," Castiel warmly said with a smile.

He scrutinized the view of Central Park behind his desk through the wall of glass and felt contented that the weather was still rainy. He loved rainy weather. Bleak weather. Anything except the sun.

"Give me the time and place and I'd be happy to break your ten years celibacy. Just bring the lube," Morales winked.

"The only thing I'm ever going to give you is a restraining order," Castiel collected his notepad and red inked pen, knowing fully well that the color red pissed his boss off and he brushed past Morales. "Please tell me that's your phone in our pocket."

"No, I'm always happy to see you."

"Assbutt," he grumbled.

Perhaps the most questionable occurrence was always the attention he seemed to attract when traversing the halls at work. People would stare at him, mostly out of wild fascination because of his attire but he couldn't care less. He lived to be rebellious. Always on the precipice of proving to the world that normal was a terrible misjudgment in describing him.

Zachariah was the definition of a migraine.

He highly favored pinstriped suits and an air of babbling in a language that was somewhat a mixture of gibberish and English. Added to that, from the moment Castiel stepped into his office that was always cold as Antarctica, his boss laughed.

"Well hello Mister I don't give a fuck what you think. But you're going to give a fuck what I think because I'm the big kahuna around here. Have a chair."

"Should I take it to my office now?" Castiel asked sarcastically, attempting to collect one of the black leather cushioned seats. "Or should I wait until you try to tell me what to do but fail miserably at it?"

"My best employee," Zachariah was highly amused as always. "You know, without you around here, this place would be as boring as a convent during Lent. I want you to chase a story for me." Holding up his jazz hands, his symbolic display of trying to make sense. "Cas, I get the feeling this is going to be a life changer for you. Maybe you'll get laid in the process."

"Why does everyone around here think that I have not had sex in a while?" Castiel frowned, clicking his pen and leaving it poised above the yellow notepad.

"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?" Zachariah shrugged. "Anyway, I want you to cover the Royal Wedding for me. If there's going to even be a wedding to begin with because we all know what the Prince's rap sheet looks like. He's a bad boy flirt who loves to give his father more reason to feel like he's about to have a heart attack. Call it a vacation, if you want to."

"Okay," Castiel blinked, utterly confused.

"You don't want to do it?" Zachariah frowned.

"No, I'm trying to internally translate everything you've just said to me into English."

"All expenses paid!" Zachariah shook those jazz hands again like he was announcing a grand prize on The Price Is Right. "All you have to do is…and don't flinch…work with Ruby, the camera woman who has an undying crush on you."

Ruby. Dammit. Anyone else but the whore. "I will never sleep with a woman who has never read at least one Jane Austen novel."

"Which forces me to believe you will become a monk but that's not my decision to make. The decision I want you to sleep on and come back tomorrow to me with, is whether you're going to get your ass to London. Or if you're going to stay here and continue being a hermit." Zachariah glared at the red pen as it scribbled something on the notepad.

"Here," Castiel peeled off what he had written and handed it over.

His boss collected the note, stared at it and sighed. "A smiley face? Really? I've always liked the one with the tongue sticking out." He tried to do a bad imitation of it, instead appearing as if he was choking on air.

By noon the same day, whilst he was shaking Friskies into Whiskers' white bowl and talking to her in a soft nonhuman voice, there was a sequence of knocks on his front door. Pissed he was, to have his afternoon disrupted, but nevertheless, he had grown to memorize the pattern of those knocks.

It had been a while.

"Baby bro!" Gabriel came prancing in like a street dancer, dressed in a blue velvet suit. Accompanying him was a constipated looking Michael.

"I am not receiving mental patients at this hour," Castiel moved to the small living room with the caramel colored leather chairs.

He never liked when people frequented his apartment. It wasn't that he was suffering from OCD. But the nuisance of having his private possessions touched and fondled with by his clownish brother wasn't pleasing at all.

Michael on the other hand always kept his hands to himself. He had big hands. The size of a spatulas. Which reminded Castiel that he needed to stock up on some more pancake mixes.

"How are you, little brother?" Michael sat stiffly on one side of the sofa whilst Gabriel fully occupied the other chair. "We haven't seen you in over a month."

"Has it been that long?" Castiel asked dryly. "Merlot or water?" His feet padded softly on the wooden floor as he went to the kitchen.

Gabriel however was beaming at the interior of the apartment as if he hadn't seen the likes of it before.

"Bring us the bottle, would you? Let's try to finish it before Michael starts talking about his affair with the librarian."

"Again?" Castiel was impressed. "How many affairs have you had this year already?" He collected three glasses, the bottle and returned to the living room. It was his own space that was now invaded. Whiskers had retreated to his bedroom, possibly sleeping on the window seat.

"This is the third one," Michael announced proudly, pouring himself a heavy amount of wine. "I'm the only brother who decided to tie the knot with a woman my parents set me up with. Whilst you, Gabe, Luci and god knows where the fuck Anna is, are all living the single life."

"He's entitled," Gabriel nodded in agreement. "What about you though, baby bro? You rolled around in the sheets with anyone recently?"

"My pillows take many forms, like Anne Hathaway for example," Castiel pointed out. He sipped his wine. "Last night we were sailing in a yacht off the coast of Barbados."

"Hanna really did a number on you, didn't she?" Michael shook his head. He studied the glass wall on the northern side of his brother's apartment and couldn't detect a smudge of any kind. "You clearly haven't been romantically involved with anyone for almost ten years now whilst she's been frisking around with a man who looks like Kermit the frog."

"Is that what he is?" Castiel stared in awe at his brother, holding the stem of the glass between two fingers. "I thought he was a Martian."

"Close to it."

He briefly told them about Zachariah's proposal, whisking him off to London and into the arms of Ruby, the drooling demon. However, instead of appearing disgusted with the idea of having their brother taken away from their prying eyes, Michael nodded in approval. And Gabriel…well he seemed too impressed that for once, maybe his younger brother would fall into the arms of a foreign woman.

"Who will entangle you in the throes of passion…" holding up his glass, Gabriel toasted Castiel who scowled at him. "Look, all fun and jokes aside, you're not getting any younger. You have a substantial amount of income at your disposal—"

"Which he refuses to make claim to," Michael pointed out in a stiff tone.

"And you're fucking handsome as handsome can get. By a long shot, women would be drooling over you if you'd just lose the graphic t's, combed your hair and toned down the sarcasm."

"I think the hair has to stay," Michael disagreed. "I like the hair. It's wild and has a personality of its own. But your attire needs to change. Drastically."

A few seconds of silence elapsed and, in that time, Castiel was slowly scanning the living room. Then suddenly, he rested a shocked look on either of his brothers.

"Oh, were you saying something of import? Forgive me but I wasn't paying attention."

"You know, his problem is his ignorance," Michael pointed out boldly, helping himself to another glass of wine. He wasn't known in the family as the 'blotting paper' for nothing. "He's so full of himself, he doesn't believe that anyone suits him. He's lived by himself for so long, he's practically grown too accustomed to being alone."

"As compared to you twisting around in the sheets with a different woman every month," Castiel said in a clipped tone. He rolled his eyes. "Romance does nothing for me. It is simply an illusion created in the minds of people with low self-esteems who crave the attention of someone else to complete them."

"You better watch your tongue," Gabriel warned, "one of these days, someone is going to come into your life and change your whole perspective."

"Of what exactly? Castiel offered a dull look.

Gabriel sighed. "Of love! Of life. I mean, masturbating isn't that much fun, is it?"

"I think what Castiel's problem is, relates to much more than a simple case of not wanting to look for someone. I think he's the type that needs to be chased by someone. Harassed repeatedly. A major flirt to begin with. England might be a good idea. I've heard that European women are quite bold. They know what they want. They waste no time in respectfully going after what they want. And you, my brother…would be—"

"Eye candy," Gabriel completed with a smile.

Half an hour later, after his two brothers staggered into a taxi and left, Castiel needed to recharge.

He stretched out flat on the sea moss colored carpet on his balcony and studied the stars. The brush of color on the full moon. The soft kiss of the wind on his cheeks and then the roar of the traffic in New York, the city that never sleeps. And his mind couldn't rest.

What they had said to him had some truth, even if it was a sliver.

Lonely was an understatement.

For ten years, he had developed a routine that had become reflexive and boring. His mind had become as plain as vanilla and the only time he wandered out of his comfort zone was when he was writing an article or pursuing a story. Apart from that, the top tier of his most fascinating things to do was snuggling up in bed and drowning in a good book.

But London.

He'd never been to Europe. Mexico and the Caribbean were fascinating for a young nerdy kid who studied maps and obsessed over history. But those were the days when he went to those places with his wealthy family and their flashy lifestyles. Now, he would be travelling alone to one of the places that was rich in history. That was a hub for many things that he become passionate about.

Jane Austen. Downton Abbey. The landmarks. Most of all, the royal family and its substantial influence. It's glamor and daunting secrets. The inner workings of a system that was oiled by so much power and belief and money. He wanted to go to England. He really did. But why was he even second thinking this?

By the time he was tucked in bed with the BBC news on the television, Castiel had made up his mind. But then when the Top Stories were brushed through one by one, his interest was piqued further by the mention of a new scandal from the Royal Family.

"With two weeks left to being wed to the Duchess of Emmerdale, Prince Dean has yet again made a wild public appearance. Could this be a repetition of his history of being the Rebel of the Royal Family? Let's take a look."

Castiel collected Whiskers onto his lap as the screen transitioned into a crowd gathered around the gyrating figure of a man. He was obviously stoned. It was inside a dimly lit bar with the wild whooping of the crowd but then when the Prince's face focused on the camera, Castiel stiffed a little.

"Dear god," he said staring in disbelief.

"Who wants to dare me!" Dean's voice was high pitched and his eyes glassy, "I'd do it! I'd dance to Eye of the freaking Tiger. And I'd do it all with my father's crown on my head. Because he can't dance. I can! And who wants a King that can't dance?"

"He's done it this time," Castiel whispered, although a small smile spread across his face. Even the reporter was amused. "He's fucked." Whiskers peered up at him and meowed. "Hmm, I know, I know. He's quite handsome. But not handsome enough to tempt me."

MORE TO COME

Chapter Text

If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.

JANE AUSTEN, Northanger Abbey

Castiel's nipples were like icicles by the time he shoved his way through crowds and escaped the airport.

London was bitter cold already and he detested that a longtime hatred towards the sun was now a daunting feeling; the ball of orange wasn't in sight and it was barely after lunch.

But perhaps the most fascinating aspect was that the photos in magazines and the entertainment industry didn't deliver enough justice to the beauty of the city.

For him, he savored the simpler things in life. Like the tip of a hat from a stranger bidding a good day. To the clipped accents and the sophisticated air and manner in which most people seem to adhere to.

It was like stepping into a whole new world unlike the bustle of New York where taxis almost ran you over. Or where the sewers leaked and smelled and everyone was so occupied by their own little worlds inside their heads, they forgot about mannerism. Or maybe he was making judgments too soon. Maybe one needed to allow a twenty-four span of time to pass before gathering a substantial amount of evidence to use in comparison.

He had to suppress his glee after checking in at the Austen Apartments.

It was like waltzing into another era. With finely polished dark walls in the lobby. Paintings of Jane herself and Pemberley, and Derbyshire and several scenic views including Bath on the walls. Even the arm chairs were covered in red velvet and antique tables. Lamps. And the absence of an elevator with just the availability of a winding staircase.

Wearing his usual attire; a graphic black t-shirt with the slogan 'Straight Outta Downton Abbey', the receptionist immediately placed Castiel as a tourist. Or maybe it was the black leather jacket. And then they spent fifteen minutes debating on the ending of the show before she handed over a rather antique looking key leading into a room on the top flat.

After internally screaming over the fact that he had lugged his suitcase and bags into a space that was crafted from the likes of a scene in an Austen novel, Castiel locked the door. And stared. Refusing to believe that he was confronted with the likes of a small living room with a mantle, fireplace and a writing desk in the corner. Then with a heart that sighed, he carefully parted the red lace blinds and examined the beautiful view of a bustling London.

It was breathtaking to be there in the flesh. Like a wild exotic animal that was somehow returned to its habit; after immensely engrossing one's heart in books and tv shows.

By 3, Castiel was seated across the table from Ruby in a small café that reeked of cheese scones and coffee.

Two things she settled on ordering; a burger for her own guilty consumption of course, and then a serving of macaroni and cheese as if completely unaware of his hatred towards an excess amount of cholesterol. And after two cups of coffee later, Castiel carefully examined her attire once more but this time with amusement.

Black leather. Jacket, tank top, pants, boots, gloves. Nothing else to reveal except her heavy black eyeliner and blood red lips. And she kept mentioning to his dissatisfaction that they always had undeniable chemistry that was like fire and she liked to be burned. A lot.

"These are not for the public, but I know people…" those brown eyes blinked slowly at him as she pushed a paper closer to his brown coffee cup. "It's the Royal Family's General Itinerary. What events they have to attend. Where those events are. Which one of them has to attend."

"And you have this information readily available daily?" Castiel was suspicious of her sources. Always had been.

Ruby stared at him. "Duh."

"At what cost?" he sipped some coffee and never broke away a penetrating gaze into brown eyes that were reminiscent of the pits of hell.

"If you're asking me if I'm selling my body to get it, then it's none of your business." Ruby sat back and folded her arms. The leather tank stretched lower and exposed a hefty amount of cleavage.

"Well, clearly you've just provided the answer." Castiel shrugged. He carefully picked at the macaroni.

"Will you ever pull your head out your ass?" Ruby smiled nonetheless. "You haven't changed a bit in five years. God dammit. The last time I was in New York, you were still the same stuck up little shit. Do you still hoard books?"

"That's classified information."

"Since when?" She raised an eyebrow.

Castiel scowled and considered a large red bus, two levels, gliding by on the street beyond the window. "Since you barefacedly stole my 2nd edition copy of Emma."

"You lent it to me. You never reminded me that I had it. So, I left New York with it." Ruby's eyes caressed her partner's tousled hair and his kissable lips. "By the way, I'm still totally turned on by you."

Castiel, rolling his eyes, pulled the itinerary closer. Pushing his glasses an inch up the bridge of his nose, all attempts were made to ignore Ruby's bold manners of undressing him with quite the normal devilish gaze.

It was like old times. Five years ago, she was nothing short of a maneater and lo and behold, not much had changed.

She had a knack for knocking men down like dominoes. Her last trip to New York left a string of broken hearts and desperate men who called Castiel begging in tears for Ruby's number. He on the other hand, suspected that she was a witch of some kind. Because her eyes would seem to take on a fiery glow when she went into full predator mode.

However, she was a fucking fantastic photographer. Her blog on IG carried over 2 million followers and her stills mostly comprised of catching human emotions in its rawest form. A grieving mother in Syria, shadowed by the sunset. An arranged marriage in India with a sullen face bride and a prideful looking groom. King John shaking the hand of the Prime Minister and with a look of absolute disgust on his face.

"Please…to God…don't let anyone get their hands on this shit," Ruby said after peeling away every layer of Castiel's clothing with those brown eyes. "It's like drugs. It's worth someone's sanity. Other reporters rely on getting a whiff of when the next activity will be whilst I show up like a VIP, camera ready. So, you lose it, and I'll end you."

"I thought you wanted to have sex with me," Castiel smiled innocently whilst stirring his coffee.

"You know what your problem is?" she snatched the itinerary and tucked it into her jacket with a scowl, "you're too smug."

"I'm always aroused by your anger." He was enjoying it.

"I know you don't want to work with me. You think that I'm the spawn of Satan. But newsflash, buddy. I know the Royal Family more than anyone else because I was tangled up with them more than any of those other lousy reporters. If you want to get things done and to get a good story, then you'll have to work with me."

"Alright, fine," Castiel sighed and surrendered, holding his hands up. "You can give me the itinerary. But I can't make any promises that I will tone down my sex appeal. How about you pay the bill?"

He was still smiling over the memory of her string of curses after returning to the apartment later that day.

Castiel wasn't a prideful specie. But he liked to wind Ruby up enough to watch her dance.

Of course, he paid the bill. Always did when they teamed up. But she kept on presenting herself as vulnerable in his presence and it was amusing to prey on that weakness just to gain some kind of satisfaction.

Now, with the sheet of paper spread across the writing desk and a glass of merlot, Castiel perused the Royal Family's life.

His finger traced the lines and details.

VISIT TO SAINT ANNE'S MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

10am – 12 Noon

New hospital wing for children suffering from leukemia

Attendees: Prince Adam - Duke of Windsor, Carlie Clapton - Duchess of Edinburgh, Prince Samuel - Duke of Sussex, Eileen Leahy - Duchess of Cambridge.

BRUNCH AT PROMENADE GARDENS

12 Noon – 1pm

Discussions about the naming of Prince Adam's third child

Attendees: Queen Mary, Dame Elisabeth…

"Boring," Castiel downed the last drops of wine and the glass clattered on the table as he discarded it and went further down the list. "Come on, you can't hide from me."

OPENING OF EGYPTIAN PAINTER'S 'SCENES FROM THE CRYPT' GALLERY AT THE BRIGHTON'S HOTEL

5pm – 6pm

Attendees: Prince Dean – Duke of York, Princess Annalise – Duchess of Emmerdale

"Bingo," he was finally contented, those blue eyes flicking to the white round clock with black hands and black numbers on top of the mantle.

There was a fireplace made from red clay bricks, inside the small apartment. Enough flames licking logs to warm his heart of fond memories whilst drowning in an Austen book. But later.

It was just past four and if he managed it on time, he could get there before Ruby. Providing that she wasn't rolling around in the sack with some other lucky Londoner. But why on earth was he labelling anyone who slept with Ruby to be quite fortunate? Maybe it was that damn tight leather tank and the swell of her breasts.

"No," those piercing blue eyes glared at the view beyond the windows already fading into a smoky looking afternoon. "I will not, and I repeat, will not fall into her web of lust."

By the time the car spat him out at the Brighton Hotel, a light rain had wet the pavement.

Reporters were scattered everywhere under umbrellas and fighting with their cameras. It was like walking into a cave of hyenas, always hungry for the next juiciest scrap but still deeply vulnerable by the elements of mother nature. And it was marvelous to discover that their coats were blotched from rain whilst the leather that covered him was impenetrable.

"You're not making it easy. Looking so scrumptious in that damn jacket," was Ruby's first greeting, giving him a one over.

Castiel scrutinized his attire and smiled. "I thought we would match." He eyed her leather tank again, swallowed then glared at nothing in particular.

Ruby's expression was a mixture of pleasure and satisfaction from the reaction unearthed from the other man. She struggled with her black camera bag and gestured at the awning of the hotel's entrance that was brightly lit.

"Seems like the Prince arrived earlier than any of us expected." They walked closer towards the agitated reports. "Annalise just stormed out dressed in one of her mink coats. She wears sunglasses even in the nights by the way."

"Maybe it's to conceal devilish red eyes she sports from being Satan in disguise," Castiel studied the stone structure of the building stretching five stories upwards. "Are you going to tell me why she left in a haste? Or do I have to get down on my knees and beg?"

"I'd rather you do a lot of things whilst on your knees," Ruby snickered, adjusting her camera. "But not now. She stormed out because apparently, she and the scandalous Prince had an argument. The whole lobby heard them. But no one knows for sure what was the topic."

Interesting.

So, there was trouble in paradise. He could write a wonderful string of words about a love story that turned sour. Scratching his chin in earnest, Castiel scrutinized the interior of the lobby and tried to develop the many theories about how a quarrel might have been ignited.

Money. No. Infidelity perhaps? Over the years, if there was one thing that the Prince thrived on was attention. But never sleeping around. He didn't seem to be that sort of young man, twenty and nine and still hormonal.

In fact, he sported a good one in bars too many but the women were kept at bay. It was always the women that were kept at arm's length. Almost as if he had developed a phobia towards them.

"I got shots of her leaving," Ruby said, pressing their shoulders together unnecessarily. "Sam's inside. I mean…the Duke of Sussex."

"On first name basis, huh?" Castiel grinned. She shot a glare at him and turned away growling. "Please tell me you slept with him too because that would make our job easier."

"Try to play with fire," Ruby hugged her camera, "and you'll get fried crispy."

For half an hour they squabbled like an old couple outside as the light rain sprayed the paparazzi. Most of them were bored by then. A few had chosen to wander across the street to grab snacks from a café advertising a 5% discount on coffee.

Castiel highly suspected that there was no discount, only a ploy to draw in the reporters like flies to make business boom.

"Tell me about this plan," he said finally, sipping coffee from the café and trying to divert his attention from Ruby's leather covered butt swaying from side to side. She was purposely trying to toy with him. Diving into the bag sitting on the pavement to collect more rolls of film.

"It's simple. We meet Garth by the side entrance and he slips us in. Nice and easy."

Castiel rolled his eyes. He tossed the Styrofoam cup into a trashcan. "Why is it that everything about you is related to sex?"

Gawking, she collected the bag, and the two of them sidestepped the other reporters. "Maybe your mind is in the gutter."

The alleyway was clean. Unlike the ones in New York. So far, Castiel had developed a general assumption that the Brits could slip off their shoes and walk bare feet if they so desired. And maybe the Queen had funded more than enough to keep the city clean. Or maybe Brits were far more conscious of their surroundings than New Yorkers.

He was growing considerably biased to his hometown and hated that the likes of a place that had become a prison wasn't missed. In fact, the only substantial part of NYC that he longed to go back to was his cat. His books. His apartment. Everything else, even Zachariah could go fuck themselves.

From the moment he laid eyes on Garth though, Castiel thought that the man was entirely sketchy. The type of concierge that possibly slipped valuables from other people's suitcases. Or spied on them whilst they were in the shower or dressing. Or worst of all, picked their pockets.

"And all of that you gathered from the way he smiled at you," Ruby said after they had gotten into the hotel. "Unbelievable," she shook her head. "You know, you really need to stop judging people like books. Get to know 'em. Like me for instance. I'm a nice girl."

"If by nice you mean chains and whips and gags," Castiel was scrutinizing the interior of the kitchen and could have sworn he saw a rat scamper across the tiled floors.

"What's wrong with some BDSM?" Ruby peered around the corner of the hallway leading out into the large lobby. There were heavy whispers out there. And a waiter brushed past them.

Castiel plucked a stuffed egg from the tray and bit into it. "I rest my case."

"You're beginning to piss me off."

"What did I do now?" he smiled and tried to touch her prized camera.

Batting his hand away and growling, Castiel deciphered that maybe what men savored the most about Ruby was the fierceness. The way she boldly put herself out there without a care in the world about who criticized that honest streak of fire. And maybe he was being rather unfair at making judgments. But damn, she wasn't a woman to be reckoned with.

"Hey, all jokes aside," he tried whilst another waiter brushed past them carrying a tray of souffles. This time though, she snatched the merchandise. "I think that you're rather complex but entirely worth knowing."

"Coming from you, that's more than flirting," Ruby was more than a couple inches shorter than him. "But I'll take it. I'm not all that bad. It's what makes me a damn good reporter. Because I'm willing to do anything to chase a story. And I do it because I like my job. I like taking pictures and I like telling a story."

"Five years ago you told me that you were trying to find your father," he hated to bring it up in such a cramped moment like that. They were hiding behind a door and peering occasionally into the lobby, awaiting the Prince's appearance. "Any luck since then?"

"Well, I found him alright," she pressed her body onto the wall and hugged the camera, eyes downcast. "Turns out he's a multimillion-dollar business man in Dubai who would rather have more than one woman he spoils than accept the fact that he has a daughter. Me? I'm not worth it."

"Don't ever think that," Castiel squeezed Ruby's right shoulder. Their gaze deepened. A couple seconds passed and then he scoffed. "Oh come on, let's not make this awkward."

Smiling, she shoved the camera into the bag and gestured to the lobby. "I'm going to wander around, you coming?"

"Right after I use the washroom to powder my face." Grinning, Castiel ditched Ruby.

It was strange though.

Back in New York, he stood out like a sore thumb. The graphic t-shirts weren't likeable. Neither was the completely nerdy look apparently because everywhere he went, people stared as if there was some sort of an alien breezing through the city. And maybe Hanna had a type. Maybe she loved extra-terrestrial looking men like himself and Evlek.

But he often thought that his brothers weren't lying about the good looks a man such as himself possessed. If he ditched the black framed glasses and parted his hair on one side, maybe he would give Tom Cruise a run for his money. Maybe his body was also a weapon because of the good genes that contributed to a finely sculpted physique. So why weren't women crawling all over him?

The blue tiled washroom was unoccupied and contained five urinals.

Castiel chose the one further away from the door because of privacy concerns. And also because a stranger staring at his lovely gifted in length cock wasn't something he fancied at the moment.

Nevertheless, it was preferable to remain alone and unbothered until two men came into the space and approached the sink.

One of them left when Castiel was zipping up, grumbling to himself with an abundance of tattoos on overly bulging biceps. The other one stayed and continued to stare at that goddamn Halloween looking face longingly in the mirror. Almost as if he was having a conversation with God. Or maybe, eye fucking himself.

Either way proved to be something that Castiel did not want to intervene with. So, he carefully washed his hands, collected a paper towel and thanked the heavens when one of the other stalls opened up and another man joined them.

What was it about public restrooms and the appearance of weirdos?

Didn't they have somewhere else to express their insane lives?

The air contained a mixture of vanilla from the soap and a faint hint of Old Spice aftershave. Two things that softened Castiel around the edges, relaxed him somewhat. And he wondered why on earth the combination was so soothing until the man next to him stood up straight all of a sudden and walked stiffly towards the door like a robot.

Carefully fixing his leather jacket and trying to avoid making eye contact of any sort with the other male specie that remained in the washroom, Castiel balled up the tissue. Tossed it into the bin and stood before the mirror trying to make sense of his disheveled hair.

And he could immediately feel the other man's gaze like a spotlight.

The rude scrutiny.

A pair of eyes bold enough to pry without holding back. To take what he wanted in making his own assumptions without getting permission. Almost like standing in front of a painting and studying every inch of it. And Castiel was really and truly deeply moved. Almost…stunned beyond understanding that a man was deliberately checking him out.

Knowing fully well that something was happening though. Something that awakened his pores and washed him over in a sense of discomfort. It was nothing like he had ever experienced.

Nothing like the stares of mockery received on a daily basis. The men who snickered and shook their heads. The ones who abandoned all efforts on trying to tease his attire because they thought that he was obviously a lost cause.

But this…this was different. This was more like being on the receiving end of having someone walk all over you with their fingers in an intimate way.

Whilst washing his hands, the stranger was peeling away every layer, and helping himself to whatever was favorable. And Castiel felt…flushed in that awfully tight leather jacket.

It was unlike any other feeling ever experienced. And instantly, he was disarmed from wit, his sense of feeling comfortable and the ability to withstand any social awkwardness stronger than ever.

There he was, reduced to a man who stood before a wide wall mirror in a washroom. A man who couldn't even shift his eyes to decipher who the other person was. This other man who seemed to be entirely fascinated by an enigma like Castiel and who found him desirably…pleasing enough to scrutinize barefacedly.

Good God. Were all London men so deranged like the few that had left prior?

"Hi, Ocean Eyes," the man said finally, in a rather deep voice that was breathy and affected by slight humor. He flipped off the tap. Therefore, there was silence in the washroom between them.

But Castiel said nothing.

Instead, he stupidly pulled out another paper towel from the dispenser, folded it quickly and dabbed at his mouth. Then whilst his mind was screaming to will his legs into a stride towards the door, damned curiosity won over. And because he desired to at least justify his sense of feeling discomfort by glaring at the other man, Castiel allowed their eyes to meet.

At first, what he thought to be completely ludicrous was replaced by a sense of shock.

The familiarity of that face. The popular green eyes that reminded him of lush grass even when he managed to stare into them through a damn television screen. On BBC. On CNN. ABC. Aljazeera. 60 Minutes last fall. But the most injustice of it all was that none of the video footage or photos were capable of capturing what the Prince truly looked like in person.

And Castiel was stunned because Dean was possibly, no, decidedly the most handsome young man that he had ever laid eyes on.

He was ashamed by how stunned he might have appeared. In a public washroom, now boldly helping himself to an eyeful of perfect sculpted features on a face that belonged to someone who had to be well aware of how good looking he was.

No wonder the Prince was such a rebel.

"Billie Eilish," Dean said, this time with a look of amazement and yet a small smile. "Haven't you heard the song?"

"The…what?" Castiel blinked. Is he actually talking to a peasant like me?

"You're too cute." The Prince walked over and with his eyes locked on blue ones, boldly invaded the other man's personal space to pull out a paper towel. Then standing back, allowing a foot of space between them, perhaps intentionally, he sighed. "And starved of pop culture. Well then, have a listen when you get a chance."

Castiel smelled the strong scent of a cologne and aftershave that was…beautiful to inhale. And Irish Spring and couldn't understand why on earth his heart was racing.

Why his mind had grown so fuzzy. Why he was using the word beautiful all of a sudden to describe a man's scent?

He was so very much fucked.

Maybe something had been slipped into the damn coffee, that's why it was 5% discounted. Because what he was feeling in that moment couldn't be normal. It couldn't be…dammit. What was happening?

"Cat got your tongue?" Dean tried again, clearly puzzled by now but still amused. He neatly folded the tissue and couldn't take his eyes off of the other man. "Are you okay?"

"I…uh," Castiel tried to shrug off the magnitude of his embarrassing reaction. "I've never heard the song. But I will definitely check it out."

"My name's Dean, by the way. Or as the tabloids refer to me as 'The Royal Rebel'," the Prince seemed proud. "The Heartbreaker."

"I know who you are…" Castiel couldn't breathe. Get your shit together. Breathe. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Dean. Prince…Your Majesty…Sir. Shit. Sorry." Did he just…apologize? Castiel stared at the floor and hated how he could lose control of his senses.

"Just…Dean," the other man said chuckling. "Lighten up, will you? And the pleasure is mine. To meet you too. You're easy on the eyes. Maybe I can have a name?"

"Castiel."

"Okay, Castiel." Those green eyes were sparkling and lingering on his lips. "Uh, forgive me if I intruded."

The Prince gracefully plucked a gold pen from his left breast pocket on a blue and green plaid shirt and scribbled something on the folded tissue with a grin. Then Dean held out the bit of mystery.

"Here," he said softly.

Cas hesitantly took the square of tissue and in the process, their fingers brushed. Perhaps deliberately on the Prince's part, he couldn't quite tell. But the grand effect was achieved because he instantly felt little bursts of lightening travelling through his arm. And wondered if he was losing his damn mind, to think that what books often described, about the way love could affect someone's body from a simple touch, was happening really in reality.

"Call or text me when you're free. I'd love to get to know you more," Dean sounded so sure of himself. He stepped back and wouldn't break the gaze.

It appeared as if he loved to smile. He was carefree like that. "Nice t-shirt, by the way." The prince gestured at Castiel's attire with the words 'I'm Mister Darcy' printed in white on blue material. "I've read the book like what? Nine times? I bid you a good evening, 'Ocean Eyes'."

And he was gone, leaving Castiel with one thought ringing over and over in his head.

Dean Winchester, the Duke of York, had just flirted…with him. And now he was holding the Prince's goddamn number between his trembling fingers.

The Prince…the man who was scandalous and wild and loved parties. The Prince who was always extroverted and carefree and laughing. He had read Pride and Prejudice nine times. Nine.

Maybe he had lied about that one small bit. Maybe he had done it to seem more intriguing, more appealing. But why on earth did the Prince feel the need go out of his way to talk to a commoner like him?

Castiel turned to the mirror and realized in horror that a deep blush had covered his neck and cheeks. And for the first time in…forever, the first thing that captured his mind was the frivolous feeling of being on the receiving end of a man and not just any ordinary man, who had gone out of his way to flirt openly with an enigma such as himself.

"Maybe I'm really sexy," he said to his reflection in the mirror. "Holy fuck."

Chapter Text

I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.

JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility

---

"Where the hell were you?" was Ruby's first greeting when Castiel returned to the lobby. She gave him a strange scrutinizing look. "And why do you look so flustered?"

The bell on the receptionist desk dinged, as someone kept hitting it repeatedly and angrily. Then when a heavy gust of wind swept in through the whoosh of the front doors being pulled open, Castiel caught the familiar profile of the Prince just leaving a room where the paintings had been set up. And then Dean stopped.

It was instant and it was so dramatic. Because whilst everything around the lobby was hectic, the stillness settled between the two of them. As Dean slowly turned around, and without searching, he latched his gaze on Castiel, who was by then, seriously astonished as every second passed by; a full minute maybe. He couldn't ascertain the exactness.

But Castiel, in that moment, thought to himself that no one had ever looked at him the way Dean managed to deliver. And it was nothing short of astounding to witness the magnitude of interest piqued from the connection.

Then just after acknowledging him with a small lopsided smile, Dean winked and retreated down the hallway.

"Are you even listening to me?" Ruby's voice drifted towards his ears. "Hello!" she clicked her fingers in front of his face. "What's happening to you?"

"Nothing of import," he swallowed hard and avoided her eyes. The lobby was deserted, almost graveyard silent. "What did I miss?"

Ocean Eyes

Shaking her head, Ruby sighed and bent down to collect the bag resting on the ground. "Nothing really. Well, apart from me flirting with the receptionist and him rudely telling me that he's engaged to his partner Frank. And get this. It's hardly necessary for him to have shown me his ring when…"

Castiel could feel the square of tissue pulsating in his jeans pocket. Like a little, fierce living thing filled with so much life and spurring up many questions. Written by the golden pen of a man…a Prince as a matter of fact…who had sought out an introduction. Someone who held a completely high regard in the world; the Royal Family. And that particular individual had chosen him as an object of scrutiny.

"Good God! Reporters!"

He had no idea on earth what transpired in the next two minutes, except that himself and Ruby were snatched by the back of their jackets. Then deposited outside into the alleyway like two nasty scoundrels. And in the process, the right strap of Ruby's tank tore away leaving her to appear rather like a savage demon.

"I don't like to be harassed," Castiel complained in his low gravelly voice. "I avoid harassment at the expense of appearing like the professional I am."

"Which is why you get to write all the boring stories whilst the rest of us daring devils chase down the good ones," Ruby scowled at her tank and swore.

They then rejoined the diminished group of reporters outside once more. And Castiel was left alone to dwell on conflicting thoughts whilst his loyal companion sought out the interests of a rather intriguing looking man. The kind who was dressed like Sherlock Holmes, with the matching low voice and a wary eye.

Still sparing himself from the likes of becoming entangled in a crowd of gossiping people, he retreated to leaning against a lamppost. One of those very antique ones. The kind with a shade and a rather intricate looking box attached to the stem. That was set to ignite within the hour of 6 and that it did in just under two minutes.

It was advantageous for him as he quickly glanced around and slipped the square of tissue out of his pocket. Then holding his breath, Castiel studied the neat scrawl. Because penmanship was essential in the Royal Family. And Dean's handwriting didn't spare the beauty of a steady hand and purposeful message.

Scandalous was an understatement for what the Prince had done. Choosing to divulge his private number with a stranger. Someone he had met moments ago and obviously had gathered a rather finite judgment of character. But the boldness. The confidence in character. The effect of that gaze between them in the lobby was so direct and heavy.

Castiel was still trying to gather some kind of composure from the meeting that he lost himself for a moment. Because why was he holding the Prince's phone number between his fingers and what he should do with such valuable information?

Suddenly, the reporters in front of him sprang into action. Ruby, tugging away her hand from being kissed by the man in the long black trench coat, sprinted in his direction.

By then, he had tucked the tissue away and was back in reporter mode. Armed with his old fashioned yellow lined notepad and pen. Because it was very much a sophisticated look that boded well with his character. And then the two of them pushed their way, well Ruby mostly did like the tiger she was, to the front of the crowd in wake of protests peppering around them.

When the tall frame of the Duke of Sussex emerged from the lobby of the hotel, all hell broke loose. Even his companion, Castiel noticed, stared wide eyed at the lanky Prince who came down the steps dressed in a black tuxedo. And he was smiling.

He was also accompanied by the cause of Castiel's mini heart attack.

The sight of Dean awakened something inside of him that was not normal. Neither was it familiar. What Castiel felt when he studied the likes of the Prince was something that resembled an immoral attraction. Sinful, maybe. Perhaps misunderstood if he was chasing the notion of being completely delusional and fucked – possibly by whatever had been slipped into his coffee prior.

Because there was no way that he could be slightly inclined to believe that Dean was dashing and handsome. And his green eyes were beautiful. His light brown hair being caressed by the night wind was almost too picturesque. Something that caught Castiel's eyes and he held on to that moment as if it was the most precious part of the story.

But then all of the doubts were pushed onto the back burner when the questions began like rain.

"Prince Dean, will your brother's baby be named soon?"

"Will the Queen make an appearance at the Prime Minister's birthday celebration tomorrow?"

"Is Lady Eileen expecting a baby soon?"

Sam was beaming at the crowd as the atmosphere was peppered with numerous questions. Then shyly, he waved a hand and Ruby sighed against his shoulder.

What was wrong with her?

Was she experiencing some kind of a fainting spell?

"No comments at this moment, except that we would rather much like to thank Edith Pratt for displaying her wonderful collection of paintings in the Brighton Hotel," Sam said, rocking back on his heels and appearing quite contented. "Myself. And my brother," he glanced at Dean who was studying his shoes, "had the privilege of seeing the 'Scenes from the Crypt a very long time ago when our mother took us to Egypt. It has always been a favorite of mine. Um…" he glanced around. "Thank you."

"Prince Dean, are you prepared for the wedding?"

"Are you going to spend your honeymoon time in Europe as stated before?"

"Why are you not getting married in Saint Peters like your brothers?"

"You know," Dean stepped forward a bit and the questions died down immediately as cameras poked their way forward, hungry for scandalous footage. "I'm very much not in the mood right now to put on a show. But I…" his eyes met blue ones and the Prince's amusement died away instantaneously, "I will…perhaps…take one question." He seemed mesmerized, so much captivated that it took Ruby a few seconds to realize Dean's main focus was on no other than Castiel.

And when everyone else highlighted the cause of the Prince's delay in his next words, they stood there transfixed on what was occurring.

They were deeply confused, but not entirely affected, by Castiel who found that as much as he would have liked to act rather composed, he was falling apart. And his gaze could not be detached from the man who had pinpointed him once more as a source of interest. So, although he tried to swallow his surprise, he fell short of surprise.

"I'll take your question," Dean's voice softened a bit when he actually pointed at Castiel standing in front of the crowd of gawking reporters. "And yours only. The rest of you…" he made a rather bad attempt at laughing off his mockery, "can hang your hats up and call it a night."

For the stretch of a few seconds, everyone waited.

Sam was fully surprised by his brother's decision to separate one reporter from the crowd of people they both had grown familiar with. The newspaper agents from all around the UK like Penny and Billy from the BBC. Clarissa and Terry. And Terry was a rather trustworthy publisher from the Daily Mirror. They always answered questions from Terry first and foremost.

But now, his brother had focused the spotlight on a man who was obviously an American from his attire. The leather jacket and the wild hair. The funny graphic t-shirt. The owner of a pair of wide blue eyes…and he was entirely shocked as everyone else.

Who was this person?

Who had managed to soften his brother around the edges so much that his face took on a light flush and his eyes were sparkling?

Naturally, when this mysterious man refused to provide a question, the crowd of reporters groaned in protest. And Ruby, being the good Samaritan, she was, tugged Castiel down to her level and frantically whispered something in his ear.

Immediately he straightened up and cleared his throat. And the one thing Castiel remembered experiencing in that moment was nervousness. Quite unlike any other in his career. Because he never was afraid to ask questions. He had interviewed snobbish businessmen, and hammered sex offenders without remorse. But now, Dean's gaze locked on him was more than unnerving.

"Did you and…the Princess…Annalise," Castiel hated how gravelly his voice sounded, "…have a fall out of some kind? Can you tell us what happened?"

For a few seconds, the two of them just stared at each other.

Those green eyes that seemed calm in one instance suddenly flashed from a conflicting emotion. Then stepping back with clenched fists, the muscles in face twitched. And Sam appeared as if he was bracing himself for another display of his brother's public antics. But just as the storm washed over Dean's countenance, it faded.

"Look, I'm tired of being a pawn on a board," he said in a flat tone to the crowd of reporters who were recording everything, whether on their notepads or devices. "For once, I'd like to marry someone who I end up falling in love with. You know, the old-fashioned way. Someone I could suddenly meet and could feel something and it mattered."

Cameras flashed. Sam was holding his breath because it was almost as if he knew. He was certain where his brother's mind was wandering to. They had spent many years together, getting to know each other and they had become best friends.

And Castiel was losing his mind, whilst trying as best as he could to stay focused on his notepad. His scrawl was incomprehensible, even to himself and complete gibberish. But it was a coping mechanism. A kind of distraction. To seem like he wasn't unnerved by being favoritised by a member of the Royal family.

"The Princess has an equal amount of qualities that are rather attractive and memorable," Dean continued boldly although his brother nudged his arm. "But maybe I already have my mind set on what I find most ideal. Possibly," those green eyes found blue ones again and Dean didn't look away, "someone who possesses Ocean Eyes."

Without tearing his eyes away from Castiel, the Prince allowed himself to be captured by the flashes of cameras. The questions still followed. Many questions trying to pry the truth from him. Whether he was in love with someone else. Whether he could publicly announce his disengagement from the Princess.

But Dean answered no more questions. Instead, he had to be whisked away by his brother. The two of them briskly approached a black Bentley that was brought around by a staff of the Brighton Hotel. And then after climbing in the driver's seat, Sam and his brother drove away, leaving a wake of reporters chasing the vehicle and pounding the air with questions.

"How come you never told me that you're gay?" Ruby asked for the umpteenth time. A beer rested on the table between them.

They were in a bar called Southerns. Caramel colored seats with wide windows overlooking the bustle of London at 7:30pm. The smell of pizza, and burgers heavy in the air.

"I'm not," Castiel's blue eyes were distant. It appeared as if he was considering the street outside with some kind of intent. But he wasn't. He was still drowning in that afternoon's events.

"So how do you explain the whole gay thing that just happened?" Ruby pressed on, leaning over the table.

She almost…almost popped out her right breast. Castiel dully considered the wardrobe malfunction and didn't even seem impressed.

"You and the Prince had a moment."

"We didn't have a moment," Castiel sighed. "It wasn't. It couldn't be."

"Look, he's the kind of guy who loves to flaunt around his boldness, okay?" she resorted to sitting back with her arms folded. "If he sees something that he likes, he gets it. Last year alone, he bought two Audis and a Bentley. Then on his trip to France, he actually brought back a shitload of paintings that cost a million US dollars or more a piece."

"And your point is?"

Ruby stared at him in bewilderment. A red bus crawled by outside the window. "He wants you, Cassie Cas."

"Can you stop referring to me as such?" He rolled his eyes and collected the beer on the table.

Castiel couldn't believe the trail of their conversation. He should be in his room, sinking into the softness of the canopy bed. Possibly swallowing a few bottles of wine and trying to kill his mind.

"I like it," Ruby smiled and couldn't stop scrutinizing the changes on her friend's face. "It's cute. Just like you. And apparently Dean thinks you're cute too. Cute enough to want your body."

"He does not…" Castiel had enough. "Listen to me." He sat up and cleared his throat, appearing cross. "Whatever he said outside of the damn hotel has nothing to do with me. Nothing at all."

"So how do you explain his reference to your Ocean Eyes?"

"Plenty of people around here have blue eyes!" Castiel was getting worked up. His fists clenched and he didn't want to react. But the fury in his glare was convincing enough. "It doesn't mean that he was referring to me. And why would he? He's not even remotely interested in men. And neither am I."

Ruby kept on smiling, fingers laced on the table. Then she allowed a full minute of silence to settle between them. Enough to settle the flame in those pools of blue. Flames that reminded her of a passion in bed that she would love to sample. But evidently, her gut was now screaming that she probably would never be Castiel's type.

"He's been with loads of men actually. Five years ago, he had a fling with a painter from Ireland. Then two years before, there was talk about a man who was obsesessed with him. And 2008," she said softly after finishing her beer and calling for another. "He was caught with some Irish guy in a pub near Oxford. They were kissing. It was obvious that he wasn't drunk. Clearly the two of them had a thing."

"Unsubstantial," Castiel shook his head. "Nothing of that kind was floating around in the media and believe me, if it was, we would have known."

"That's because people were tipped off, paid lots of pounds to destroy whatever evidence they had."

"And how the hell would you know about this?" Castiel was getting frustrated now with the topic of their conversation. His irritation would lead to an abundance of sass. And the two of them would start fighting. "How the hell would you know if everyone was paid off to keep things off record?"

"Because I was on the inside."

"You screwed your way into the Royal Family? Wouldn't be a surprise. In fact, it's genius. I commend you on using whatever you can to chase a story. But don't for one second imagine that I would entertain the idea. I would never—"

"I was screwing his brother," Ruby shut him up, her eyes wide and shining. "Okay? Sam. The tall one. The cool one. And then he chose her. Eileen. Over me because I was obviously not who he wanted as a wife."

Castiel was so stunned, he softened up. Then he leaned back, blinked slowly and sympathized. Hating himself for being so snarky. Detesting how he had started to doubt himself so stupidly after what had happened between himself and the damn Prince. And in the process, he had forgotten that he needed to be a friend.

"I'm so sorry, Ruby," he said quietly.

"I mean, yeah I'm feisty and I want my own way most times," she continued, obviously wounded by the memories. "But he is the only guy who stayed after I showed him how broken I was inside. I could tell him anything about me. Even the bad parts. And he still loved me. It's like you. You get me. You really do and I don't have to hide anything from you."

"You never have to," Castiel tilted his head and smiled. "Even your breasts seem to think the same. One of them almost waved at me a few minutes ago."

"Dean though," she said in a friendly tone. "I get why he's into you. You're seriously drop dead gorgeous. You have a funny way of expressing yourself through your t-shirts. And you have a nice ass. Plus—"

"Ruby, can you stop?" Castiel was growing sour again.

"Okay, I'll stop. But just know this. There are many guys who have guy crushes. But please to god, don't fall for Dean. The Royal Family doesn't like people like us commoners ending up as one of them. And although he's fucking gorgeous, he has done some shitty things to hurt people. So, keep him at a distance."

"I would never ever fall in love with another man," Castiel said with pride, folding up his napkin. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

A stone's throw away at half past eight, and he was back in his hotel room. He had a bottle of merlot sitting on the polished oak table. And he was drinking from it, not from a glass.

Castiel hopped onto YouTube, debating whether he should listen to the song by Billie Eilish or not.

He wanted to flip a coin at one point. He even considered going to bed and trying to sleep away the tug of war going on inside his mind. About whether he should pursue the song or not. But then, his willpower was always tied to his stubborn streak.

"Here we go," he took a hefty swallow from the bottle before typing in the name of the song. Then bringing it up, Castiel settled into the chair, the laptop sitting comfortably on his thighs. And he braced himself for the lyrics.

But it only took the opening lines to captivate him. The boldness. The directness; referencing their first meeting and the way Dean had scrutinized him in the washroom. Had been gazing at him for a little more than five minutes before they talked to each other.

Burning cities

Napalm skies

Fifteen flares

And what about those pools of green that suddenly threatened to drown Castiel inside his own mind? The way Dean had locked eyes. Had done what many people never wanted to do. To engage someone like him in conversation. To find him interesting enough. Worthy of sparing a few minutes, trying to get to know him.

His mother used to replace fairytales with logics of life when he was younger. She oftentimes told him that he would grow up to be terribly boring. That his obsession with books and chasing his imagination would lead him into a life of nothing. A life that would restrict him from making anything of himself.

And then…

You're easy on the eyes

You are cute

Call or text me when you're free.

Billie Eilish's voice was soft like caresses on his heart. Her lyrics were haunting to him with so much depth. He was left to become too mesmerized.

I've never fallen from quite so high

Falling into your ocean eyes

Castiel quickly closed the laptop and pushed it onto the oak table. After collecting the bottle of wine, he sat back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to evaporate the thoughts fighting inside his head. Trying to chase away the lyrics. Hating himself for even listening to the song because it was clearer now that Dean's intent had been substantial.

He had gone out of his way to somehow get a rise out of Castiel. He had thrown out his bait, whilst possessing dashing looks, honesty and those goddamn captivating eyes. And he had caught Castiel in a web of self-doubt. Someplace that he was afraid of all of a sudden. A place where he had never been before and now its harshness seemed sharp like the blade of a knife.

He had no idea why he was staring at the square of tissue between his fingers. Had no idea why he saved Dean's number in his cell as 'Prince'. And the more he thought about what was happening to him, a dull migraine crept up behind his temples like a fever. Trying to perhaps warn him that he was venturing into murky waters. And he needed to turn around and run.

Castiel turned on BBC after collecting another bottle of wine from the cabinet polished to a shine. Then he drifted towards the antique wooden clock resting on the mantle. Caressing it with his fingers, noting the intricate rounded design and the swinging pendulum. There was a painting on the wall in the living room. A painting depicting a fiery sunset. And for a while he became lost inside of it.

"It would seem like Prince Dean will not be marrying the Duchess of Emmerdale," he tore his eyes away from the scenic view. "Moments ago, at the opening of Edith Pratt's 'Scenes from the Crypt' at the Brighton Hotel in London, the Prince referenced no other than Billie Eilish's song 'Ocean Eyes'. And the singer had quite a fangirl moment as well after learning about it all."

"I am touched. Really," the television filled with the likeness of the woman he had seen on his laptop screen. She was dressed in a bright yellow jumper. "Of all people, I'm glad that the Duke of York finds my song that much appealing. I've been a fan of him as well. He's not afraid to be who wants to be. And that's something that we have in common."

Castiel fell asleep with the words of the song replaying in his mind. Whilst the city slept and Westfordshire Palace lit up. Whilst a ferry crept along the River Thames. Taxis slowed to a crawl at a stoplight and then carried on.

And he dreamed of nothing more than fire in the sky and Dean's smile. The way his entire face softened as the most beautiful smile reached those mesmerizing eyes. And in that moment, he seemed so young and filled with life.

Castiel rolled over at a half past seven the following morning. Groaning, he crawled towards the bathroom, took a shower and went down for breakfast instead of holing up in his room.

But coffee didn't seem to chase away the jetlag. His head felt heavy and stuffy. His joints ached like he was coming down with the flu. And the toast and eggs were pretty tasty but couldn't settle in his stomach.

On his way upstairs, he stole a copy of the newspapers rolled up and abandoned in the lobby. Then after reaching his room, he pushed open the doors leading out onto the small balcony.

Shaking the papers out, his eyes briefly studied the bleak weather in London before he scanned the front page. Then and only then did he let out a small gasp and almost fainted on the spot from the headlines.

"Christ!"

Prince falls for American reporter who has 'Ocean Eyes'.

Says he wants to marry for love.

The LGBT community welcomes the Duke of York as their ultimate mascot.

"Fuck," Castiel sank onto the chair as his heart flopped around like a fish. Because it wasn't just the headlines in bold that was damning enough.

Taking up more than half the front page was a colored photo of the most scandalous thing he had ever seen. Perhaps the one kind of occurrence that washed Castiel over in a chill of shock and anxiety.

Someone had managed to capture the very moment when he had locked eyes with Dean outside the Brighton Hotel last evening. When the Prince had stayed a few seconds after commenting on Castiel's eyes. And Dean had gazed at him so deeply, he had been unnerved by the depth of what he had seen in those green eyes.

Now, there they were. On the front page. In a newspaper that was by then, in the hands of more than a handful of Londoners. And there was no way he could dull the shaky and overwhelmed state that had caught him in raptures.

If it was one thing Castiel loathed, was to become the main attraction out of something that was clearly against what he believed in. Something that was defaming and untrue.

He wasn't gay. Had never been. But why had he swallowed two bottles of wine the night prior after swimming in thoughts about Dean?

Why had he been questioning every single thing about the Prince's encounter with him in the washroom? And why the hell was he feeling like his heart was about to explode because of the magnitude of the headlines. When in fact, he should have felt angry and deceived?

Why was he caressing Dean's face in the photo with his eyes? And then his thumb?

Chapter Text

It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.

JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility

Castiel detested sunglasses like pineapple on pizza.

There was no general acceptance on his part to appear like a bug of some sort in public. It was like stamping on one's ego repeatedly. But he had to conceal his identity because the damn scandal had swelled into an abundance of stares and whispers whilst he took a stroll on the street or grabbed coffee and croissants. He discovered that many people latched on to the headlines about himself and Dean. And they chewed on it for a few days like chewing on a juicy steak.

What he desired initially though, was to jump on the next flight and bolt right back to New York. To put all of this behind him like a blip in a most miserable past based on bad decisions. But when Zachariah called two days ago to deliver congratulations on moving one step closer to getting shagged, Castiel's fury had no bounds.

He walked around evidently flustered and tight lipped. Furious and red in the face from the injustice served upon him without careful scrutiny into the defaming of his own character. And the more he thought about the tragedy, the more he hated how anyone could spin a story out of assumptions.

For two days, Castiel allowed Ruby to work inside his room.

He was guilty of finding her company rather satisfying. Especially after she voiced her distaste in the headlines and called it a fucking outrageous attempt to sabotage my Cassie Cas. But keeping her around meant that he had to constantly feed the demon with snacks. And she never craved anything that was even remotely considered as healthy choices.

Ruby ordered burgers and fries and shakes and pizzas with pineapples on them. Meals that made his space reek of oil and clogged veins. Death traps that he worked hard to avoid over the years. But an abundance of grease that she loved to shove into her body whilst still maintaining a slim figure.

"Maybe he'll stay in Italy for a week," she referred to Dean whilst chewing on her right thumb. Those fiery eyes were fixated on the laptop screen. "Hey, do you know that people are shipping the two of you now? They're referring to you as The Royal and the Reporter. I'd like to kick their asses. I bet Dean is enjoying this. Getting someone to share the spotlight with him whilst he's frisking around in Italy and swimming in money."

"Privileged," Castiel had positioned himself on a chair to admire a direct view of the Westfordshire Palace in the distance from his balcony. "The media is also prejudiced to distinctly highlight our different roles. Whilst I'm the underdog reporter, he remains…The Prince..."

Ruby sighed. "More reason why you should not fall for him. You'll always remain on the bottom of the ladder whilst he fucks you from the top."

"A very graphic analogy. But precisely the point."

"You know what I hate about Royals?" she adjusted herself on the chair, feet tucked under and scowled. "Their fakeness. They have to put on this show to the public whilst no one really knows who they really are."

"But you saw behind Sam's façade."

"Only because I was screwing him."

"How did you two collide, might I ask?" Castiel reached for his mug of coffee and sipped slowly, with his eyes on the swelling grey clouds that threatened rain.

Ruby debated before answering. She had been working on polishing a photo of Queen Mary standing next to the fountain sculpted from the likes of Cupid drawing his bow. Last month, she had chased the Queen to Scotland; where Mary had spent a few days visiting museums and collecting books to update her library.

"The Cat Nap," she finally said, all attention on the screen.

"Hmm?" Castiel had become lost in the view before him. Of being in another city. Another culture.

"I used to go there a lot. It's this hole in the wall place a few blocks from here. Like the love child of a pub and a small library. I met him there and we started talking. He's obsessed with folklore. Monsters. Aliens. One time he could have sworn he saw a UFO above Westfordshire Palace."

"Well bred," Castiel commented with a nod. "Have you ever been in the company of his brother?"

"Several times," Ruby sighed after accidentally blurring out the Queen's beautiful eyes. She clicked undo and continued. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"I told you not to think about him that way."

"I'm not," Castiel frowned. His coffee was growing cold. He hated cold coffee. "I'm just wondering if you managed to see the Duke of York behind his façade."

"He's obsessed with Jane Austen."

"Is he really?" Castiel didn't need to know that. He could feel his heart settle down in front of a small fire that was ignited within his chest. "I'm intrigued now."

"It's all he talks about. He also has a big cock."

Castiel choked on his coffee and spat out most of it on the tiled floor of the balcony. Rising up immediately, he considered the wet spot on the front of his black jeans and scowled. Then focusing his glare on Ruby, he mumbled something and strode into the kitchen.

"You're welcome!" she called out sweetly.

The National Flower Festival was to be held the next day at Westfordshire Palace. Or so Ruby's helpful itinerary pointed out. With special guest appearances by every member of the Royal family even the King and Queen. And Cas was hyperventilating after spending a few days gazing at the palace from a distance. Now he would be up close and personal.

It was the kind of event that segregated reporters behind a barricade. And their only choice was to observe from a distance. Surrounded by lush green grass under a sky that still swelled from promising rain. With the soft hints of flowers' intoxicating scents in the large garden behind the Palace.

The Royal Family's choice of reporter, Terry Wallis was allowed to go beyond the fences. Only because he had been known to color their lives inside his stories as respectful and truthful. And there was one round faced reporter who tried to fight her way through the guards.

"Meg," Ruby said shaking her head and smiling in adoration. "She always does it. Succeeded more than two times too. This one time," her eyes sparkled, "she knocked out a guard and kicked the other one. In his balls. Oops, here she comes." Trying to pretend as if she was fixing her camera, Ruby frowned at the buttons.

"And who is this handsome new face? Fresh meat, I take it?" Meg scanned Castiel's body from head to toe with a satisfied grin. Her hair was wild and she had on a graphic t-shirt with the words 'I love Scissorsing' in bold black letters.

"Castiel," he introduced himself without a handshake. The pair of sunglasses did the job satisfactorily. "I've heard you're quite a wild reporter."

"In bed also. You're not my type though. You know," she leaned in closer. "I can make exceptions."

"Alright, that's enough. Get your own sidekick," Ruby smiled at Meg and the other woman returned the gesture. "What story are you going to write now? I know you love the juicy ones."

After choosing to move away from the others who were growing quite bored and hungry. And agitated. The three of them found that a conversation in need was heavily relied on by what Meg had to contribute. Because apparently Dean wasn't the only brother who possessed a bad streak.

Adam, the eldest was supposedly having an affair with a Duke's wife.

"And she's pregnant. Two weeks. We think the baby is their love child," Meg tried to pry Castiel's sunglasses away from his eyes. But he batted her hand away, scowling deeply. "Hey, you have kissable lips."

"So I've told him. Constantly. How are you going to get proof though? Adam, I mean." Ruby was beginning to hate her Nikon camera. She wished she had brought along the other one. The Canon 90D.

"I'm going to use whatever little I have. Write a fictional love story. And give the press it to chew on. At least when it's released, he will be backed into a corner. Because he knows some of it is true. How much, we will find out soon." Her grin was sweet and innocent.

Castiel thought she was rather like an insane inmate from a psychiatric ward. What resided behind her eyes was obviously twisted and scary. She had no boundaries. But unlike Ruby, Meg had grown to use her charm to destroy and disarm anyone who fell for her weapons.

"Showtime," Ruby suddenly said, prepping her camera and focusing it on a group of people arriving through the concrete archway underneath the palace.

It was Dean, dressed handsomely in a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt coupled with black tailored pants. He was accompanied by Princess Annalise who was decked out in a long yellow sundress with her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail like Ariana Grande. Sam on the other hand, had come alone, leaving behind Eileen, his wife who was rumored to be pregnant.

From the moment Dean passed by the group of reporters that was larger than the crowd outside of the Brighton Hotel, he waved and smiled. And Annalise on the other hand seemed bored, detaching herself from his arm to walk the rest of the way alone. Although the camera flashed, capturing her willingness to separate himself, she could care less. Whilst Dean didn't even seem bothered by any of it.

"I'll give you a good story later on," he called out cheerfully before searching the sea of faces. He couldn't pinpoint Castiel though, who had concealed himself well enough behind a large pair of sunglasses and Meg.

It didn't take long for Sam to notice that his brother's mood had changed drastically after the cheerful welcome.

Dean sauntered into the gardens, seemed distracted throughout the ceremony and couldn't even offer any polite conversation to the other guests who tried to engage him in current affairs. Instead, he secluded himself by a table covered in delicacies and after stuffing his face with pastries, the Prince stared off into the distance, as if searching for someone in the group of reporters.

"You know, I don't get you," Sam sidled up to his brother and picked up a beef patty. He chewed on it and marveled over the taste. His brother remained silent, acknowledging his presence. "Why him?"

"Who?" Dean offered a confused look.

His brother's deliberate attempt to appear clueless was amusing. "The American. The reporter who has Ocean Eyes," Sam said smiling. "And don't tell me that he's a great guy and you have so much in common. Because you don't even know who he is. Not really. I've never seen you get so distracted by someone."

"I'm not distracted," Dean said without smiling back. He picked up another random pastry and walked off. Sam tagged along though. "Look, it's no big deal."

"It is a big deal when you single him out. You glue your eyes to his. And then now, you're looking for him out there with this hopeful expression on your face. It's funny," Sam wouldn't give up as he chased Dean through the garden heavy with smells of flowers.

"Would you leave me alone?"

"Not until you admit it."

"Admit what?" Dean rounded on his brother and stared back. His green eyes sparkled from a fire burning behind them.

Sam, on the other hand was never the type to get crossed easily. He maintained his softened look. "That you're one of the few people on earth who has become the victim to love at first sight and it's not ludicrous. Dean, come on!" His brother had turned on his heels and was taking long strides, away from the taller Winchester. "Nothing's wrong with meeting someone you like. I don't think you've ever liked anyone enough to look for them in a crowd and then get totally depressed when they're not there."

"Drop it, Sam," Dean had lost all humor like his normal self.

"You have to be careful. You know how things are for you. It's not easy and many people will not understand what goes on inside your head. So, you've got to take it easy, especially for your own safety."

"No chick flick moments," Dean mumbled, letting the actuality sink in. His brother's words were ringing with truth.

"All I'm saying is, fine. You met him in a washroom. Like you told me. He wowed you because there was something about him that you just couldn't shake off. Those are your exact words," Sam sought out a mutual understanding. "Something that you found interesting enough and you can't tell me why. Up to now. Except that he has these eyes that pulled you in and drowned you. Your exact words again."

"Are you done now?" Dean scowled, shoving his hands in his pants' pockets. The wind lifted his hair a bit. The weather was becoming more threatening of heavy rain.

"Dean, why are you getting so defensive?"

"Because I know what you're going to say to me," the other man said stiffly. It was quite unlike him. Always flamboyant. Smiling. Amused. "You're going to tell me that it's stupid."

"It's not stupid, Dean," Sam said softly. "Like I said, I've never seen you behave this way about anyone else. Ever. Based on the circumstances how you two met, with anyone else I would have laughed at it. Possibly called it off as something crazy that you could meet someone just like that and find them interesting enough to go out of your way…" his brother sighed. "…to openly make comments like the ones you did in front of the cameras."

"I have nothing to hide," Dean said with a shrug. "I don't care about what they write about me. Because they've written enough."

"I'm just worried that if you pursue this, and you do end up getting more involved, dad will step in," Sam said regrettably. "And he will do exactly what he did when I was in love with a commoner as he likes to put it."

"Can't I have a little fun?" Dean laughed nervously. "I mean, come on. I chase the booze and the thrills. I have a good time all the time. But when it comes to love, I've never been privileged to fall. Now, I'm actually chasing the feeling. And I like it."

Sam sighed. Playfully ruffling his brother's hair, he walked them away from the crowds. "Look, you can't just chase feelings, Dean. You remember what happened in Madrid last year? You had an episode and every time you have one of those, you chase something. Only thing different now is that you're chasing a person instead of a freaking million-dollar painting. Which by the way, you've tucked inside your damn cellar?"

Plucking a lily boldly, although such an act was forbidden, he studied it. There was a soft sensation inside his chest. Sam on the other hand, was quite aware of how his brother's mind worked and could figure out what was coming from a mile away after the flower was gazed at intently.

"Dean, don't do it. You know dad wants us to marry people with titles."

"I've never been the type of Prince who is so prejudiced that I judge people because they're not like us."

"I know that."

"I'm going to prove to him and the world that I can fall in love with someone who doesn't have a fancy title. I don't need a Princess or a Duchess. Or a Queen. I want someone who is down to earth and didn't grow up in a damn palace or a castle."

"Nonetheless, a man," Sam said, completely open and entirely amused by his brother's rebellious streak. Pissing off their father seemed to be Dean's life mission. "Who wears t-shirts with funny text on them, skin-tight jeans and his hair looks like he's just had the best sex ever. What if he's straight? What if he's one of those homophobic bastards? Those religious nuts?"

Dean stepped up closer into his brother's personal space and pressed their cheeks together. "Then I will willingly make him change his mind," he whispered into Sam's right ear.

"You saucy minx," the taller Winchester teased with a stunned look and watched his brother walk off in smiles, still holding the flower and on a mission.

By the time their mother had given her opening remarks to the gathering crowd of the Royal Family and other esteemed guests, Dean had consumed a little too much. The punch was gloriously fruity. He had hoped that something in the damn place would be spiked with alcohol but so far, his wishes proved futile.

Instead, he was now being bombarded by the likes of the King's right-hand man Bobby Singer; the Permanent Secretary. A man who was rough around the edges and refused to wear a suit on the job. He was also fantastic around cars, and telling people off if the King so desired. And most days though, he was like a father to Dean, more than John would ever be.

"He means well," Bobby was saying whilst Queen Mary stood in a royal blue gown and spoke about her favorite flowers. "Your dad."

"Really?" Dean offered the man a look of surprise. "The same ass who gave me a gun on my eight birthday?"

"Like I said," Bobby rolled his eyes as King John met Mary by the podium with a tight smile, "he means well. By trying to protect you. The crown ain't no easy business. But he's never done it right with you. And I'm sorry for that. Seems like you've been dealt a bad hand when playing with him."

"Being the middle son does that to you," Dean said with a smirk.

"And yet you fail to realize that if anything happens to Adam, you're next in line," Bobby stared into green eyes. "To become King. There's already talk going around about his affair with that damn…Duke's wife. Crap like that could knock him down a peg or two. And if it is in the crown's interest to take away his title…"

"Adam has always been the favorite son," Dean said warily, admiring how his mother gazed lovingly into John's eyes. It was a love he never understood. "He would do anything to keep me from becoming King. So, frankly, I'm not even thinking about that."

The crowd applauded Mary's remarks on the garden's bloom. The light in her eyes never faded. She was and always would be one of England's most loved Queens.

"What you should be thinking about is what John would do to you if you turn Annalise down," Bobby said after some time had passed. The wind lightly caressed the green grass. "First time you got off easily. Second time he threatened to kick your ass in public. Third time…we might not find a body. Get the drift?"

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes, something his mother always frowned upon from her sons. And then, there was a sparkle in his eyes, suggestive of so much mischief.

"You ever give a…woman your number and she never texted or called?" he asked the man by his side.

Bobby looked him up and down in disbelief. "You don't give them your number, you idjit. You collect theirs. Thought you had more sense than that. Always thought you were born feet first. Doing everything backwards in this world. But then it ain't your fault that you got a mind that can be your worst enemy."

But Dean had already walked off with a purpose to deliberate another scandal.

By then though, Cas has grown tired of the early afternoon sun and the dull whispers from the people around him. It was too damn annoying to strain one's ears.

Wasps, they all had become. Annoying creatures who had resorted to spreading themselves out, sprawling on the grass as if it was a picnic. Most of them were terrible gossipers. And Ruby had decided that Meg's interest in Adam was far juicer than their current project.

The main topic of the day among the reporters settled on the mysterious man who had stolen the Prince's heart. The man who had suddenly appeared and disappeared. The owner of those captivating 'Ocean Eyes' that bewitched the Prince into making bad decisions. And Castiel's mood had changed into a sour one after being forced to sit among them and listen to their incessant chatter on speculations.

A man they all recognized as Dean's bodyguard came towards the crowd who couldn't conceal their boredom in his arrival. The reporters cast the intrusion off as the security detail fraternizing with a friend in their midst instead of having anything substantial to feed their egotistical appetites.

He had a kind face, very boyish with simple brown eyes. And he was decked out in an all-black attire that gave him the appearance of a rather dangerous criminal. "Is that really you, Ruby?" he asked softly after approaching them, even as the feisty tiny human rose up with fisted hands.

"Depends on who's asking, Billy. And yeah, I remember you."

"Glad you do, Miss Ruby. Good times at the wine festival earlier in the year."

"Coming from the man who could hold his liquor like no other," she smiled sweetly. And there it was, the flare behind those brown eyes.

"Indeed. I was asked to inquire about Castiel Novak," the man said in a whisper, sparing the ears of the people around them.

He smelled faintly of heaven and Ruby was melting like butter. "Why?" she blinked slowly into his mellow brown eyes.

"The Prince. The Duke of York," he said calmly, "asked me to seek you out so that I may ask if Castiel is in good health since he seems to be absent today."

Ruby was impressed by the honesty. She admired the fact that Dean had actually noticed that her handsome friend was somewhat concealed from public scrutiny. Why? Because he was hiding. And for good reason.

"Oh, he's in good health," she said sweetly to him. "Are you in good health, Billy? Would you be in good health later this evening for a drink so that we can—"

"I'm Castiel", he interrupted Ruby's flawless attempt to flirt, coming forward and revealing himself.

It wasn't something that he was ashamed of anymore. If the tabloids wished to defame him, then they had taken the first swing. But he had every right to be confident in his behavior proving that nothing was awry.

"Excellent. No wonder you weren't recognized. I see you've guarded yourself from the sun's rays."

"I have sensitive eyes," Castiel touched his shades. "Being a blood sucker sucks…no pun intended."

"Then I may tell the Prince that you are here and in good spirits?" Billy was impressed by the grand effect the news had cast upon the other man.

After considering Ruby's small nod. "You can tell him that his bold display of antics before the cameras caused a ripple. And I do not like ripples because I—"

"Cas is peachy," Ruby grabbed his arm and smiled at Billy who in turn was trying to tear his eyes away from the very unusual man hiding behind a rather large pair of sunglasses. "Is there anything else we can do for you? Maybe you can give me your number?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Castiel threw up his hands and strode off. Meg was watching the drama unfold with curious eyes and a smile to match her enthusiasm.

"The Prince hoped that he…may have your friend's mobile number. Or a number to reach him," Billy was very much enjoying Ruby's advances. She smelled like leather and lipstick and bad decisions.

"No, you may not have my number," Castiel stated with a scowl. "You know what? He owes me a public apology. Defamation of character, I'd call it. I can't even walk the streets of London, showing my face. This is harassment. Beyond my understanding why he would go out of his way to place the spotlight on someone like me."

"If I may interject," Billy cleared his throat and tried to ignore Ruby sniffing his neck like a tiger about to devour its prey, "the Prince's intentions were pure. He seems to genuinely like you."

"Are you his lap dog?" Castiel's disheveled hair and rather huge blue eyes made him appear like a madman. "Does he throw you treats and you fetch like a good boy?"

"I think…" Ruby said loudly, despising the escalation of the conversation, "that we should all calm down and think this through carefully. Give me a moment," she winked at Billy, strode towards Cas and tugged him away.

"Get your hands off of me. You're fraternizing with the enemy."

"Oh, stop behaving like a drama queen." Ruby placed him at arm's length and inhaled deeply. The look in her eyes wasn't reassuring. Instead it was suggestive of mischief. Of a plan. "I have an idea."

"And we both know that your ideas wind us up into some kind of trouble. I came here to cover a story as an onlooker. Not a damn toy to be trifled with. I will not be chewed on by a snobbish, rather…handsome…but nevertheless immature Prince."

"Just give him your number," Ruby pleaded. "And let him reach out to you. We can use this to our advantage. There's no harm in this because you don't have feelings for him. He obviously wants to fuck your brains out. So, why not let him be your toy? Tease the truth out of him so that we can get a good story and then dump him like his brother dumped me."

"No," Cas folded his arms indignantly although the offer was indeed tempting. He cast his eyes off into the distance.

"Alright, fine," Ruby collected her nerves, strode over to Billy and collected the bit of paper from his hand. Then with the pen he provided, she wrote down Castiel's number and handed it back. "Tell your Prince that my friend sends this with love."

"What?" Castiel was stunned as he ran towards them and wondered what Ruby had done. "You will deliver no such message," he warned Billy but the bodyguard was already walking off with a wide grin on his face. "You hear me?" Castiel shook his fists at the departing man. "Tell him that he owes me an apology!"

But everything changed half an hour later when the two Princes came towards the crowd of reporters. And whilst Sam seemed rather contented with a smile as always, the sparkle in Dean's eyes were more of a mischievous quality.

Even though the flower show wasn't quite finished as yet, it was always their trademark move to leave any event before their parents; trying to show the public that they had colorful lives and places to be. That they were young and always on the move.

Castiel on the other hand wasn't quite done with his sunglasses though. He was still scowling. Still mad at Ruby. And even Meg whispering sexual innuendoes into his right ear couldn't quite calm the simmering discontent.

How dare he?

Those blue eyes latched onto the Prince's approaching figure, in all smiles and confidence. They purposeful stride. The overly handsome features and those perfectly sculpted lips.

How dare he boldly request Castiel's number after creating such a stir in the media?

"It was a good day," Sam said into the phones, small microphones and recorders, hands behind his back and smiling genuinely at the cameras. "The garden looks lovelier than before. I know my mother takes pride in how it is tended to. She likes to boast about the gardens at Westfordshire Palace every single day. So, it is no surprise that…" his speech was stalled when he noticed that Dean had stepped away from his side. "It's no surprise that she promises to open the garden for public viewing next week."

If Castiel could have described the moment that followed in two words, he would have labelled it as 'tragically bewitching'. Or perhaps 'alarmingly pleasing'. Then again, oftentimes when he stubbornly tried to display a sense of disagreement on any matter, inwardly, his intentions were quite the opposite.

How else could he explain the racing heart and the butterflies awakened inside his chest when Dean sought him out? When the Prince came towards him in a steady pace, a spring in his step and those damn gorgeous green eyes alight with fascination as always? Or maybe his fascination was merely reserved for one man now. Because that was the intent; to pick a prize and constantly try to tease the living hell out of it.

As he approached the reporter who had tried to remain anonymous behind sunglasses that made him appear quite adorable, Dean stopped breathing. He couldn't contain his nerves. It was evident that he was overwhelmed and anxious and yet so sure of himself. That when he brought forward the freshly picked lily and presented it to other man, Dean's heart was trembling like a leaf inside his chest.

The entire crowd went wild. Cameras flashed as reporters tried to crowd around but bodyguards muscled them out of the way, therefore creating enough clearance for Dean's presentation to be unobscured and desirous. To be so romantic, that even his brother blinked in awe when he realized what was happening.

The flower filled the distance between them and it was so sudden and so romantic, Castiel died inside from the honest gesture.

"For you," Dean said softly, wishing that he could see those blue eyes again. "I have no intention of defaming your character. Nor do I enjoy you becoming the center of attention because of me. I'm so sorry."

Castiel was staring, completely dumbfounded from the apology. He couldn't even reply based on the current crisis occurring inside his body with the weight of a thousand natural disasters.

"Just know this," Dean leaned in a little closer and the scent of his perfume and an overwhelming rush of Irish Spring dizzied the other man's mind. His lips were inches away from Castiel's right ear. "You're not a toy. If you know what a lily means, you'll know what my intentions are. Take care."

And without sparing another second, he turned on his heels, waved at the crowd of reporters and joined Sam who clapped him on the back.

Whilst Castiel was steadied by Ruby's grasp on his right arm, no one realized that they were being watched. With as much interest as she could muster up. Queen Mary stood by the archway wound with vines and daffodils and she studied the man who had obviously managed to create quite a stir. Not only causing her son to go out of his way to display honest and pure intentions of a wealth of attraction, but also to let the world know that he was changing.

Dean had never done something like that before.

Romantic scandals were left to her two other sons. But not Dean. Never. He had never fallen off his pedestal to stoop before anyone because of love. And of course, there had been brief encounters of his own gender. But never with the intent of pursuing something so passionately.

Now it was clear to Mary that there was more than slight attraction because of the repeated attempts to pursue this one individual. Her son, had just given a man, a flower, for the world to see. And all the pieces were fitting into place.

Chapter Text

She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.

Mr. Darcy – Pride and Prejudice

When Castiel's phone chirped at precisely 7:45pm the very same evening, he was slowly chewing on a cube of carrot and fantasizing about Richard Gere in spandex.

Pretty Woman had been broadcasting on the small twenty-four inches television next to the hearth for the past hour and Castiel was abundantly distracted by yet another soppy romance movie.

Ruby's vanilla and leather scent still lingered in the apartment, and his appetite had been dulled to a garden salad. Collecting the mobile, a certainty settled in his mind on the actuality of her continuous laments on the flower. She kept pestering him to identify the importance of the gesture and Castiel stubbornly declined looking up the meaning of the flower.

But he wasn't prepared for a new message from the Prince himself.

Sliding his thumb across the screen, heart racing and frowning deeply, Castiel braced himself for the inevitable.

Hi, Ocean Eyes. Hope your cheeks aren't still crimson. Did you look up the meaning of the flower I gave you?

Of course, he had.

Obsessively.

From the moment Castiel flung himself warily into the confinements of the apartment that afternoon, he tossed his trench coat onto a chair. Then retrieving his laptop, spent half of an hour immersed in the significance of a lily. And when he finally poked his head above water to enter reality several minutes afterwards, he was still drowning in the meaning.

"I dare you to love me," Castiel played the words over and over in his mind whilst he ordered the salad. Whilst he waited and sipped some more merlot. Why on earth would anyone in their right mind dare an enigma like him to love them?

Ultimately it was decided that only a pompous ass would make such a direct gesture. Of shoving his obviously overrated affections into the eyes of the public, without perhaps meaning anything by it all.

Weightless, Dean's act of 'admiration' had come across as, an hour after the bold gesture occurred in the eyes of the public. And too fairytale like to be anything but premeditated and unworthy. Most definitely a rouse to settle a score with his overly protective father.

But how could he even explain the fluttering of his heart?

Castiel was an emotional mess.

He had shaky hands, a weakened disposition and had practically flung Ruby out the door in the process of unbecoming himself. After she had boldly announced that he was slowly falling into a web of desire that she would not rescue him from. And if he did beg for her assistance, there would be at least two casualties.

Now though, after staring at the text, he sighed, locked his phone and tossed it away into the depths of the chair. Hoping that at some point, his brain could pick sense from nonsense. Because there was no way in the entire universe that he was suddenly developing a sexual attraction towards another man.

Especially since that man had the entirety of a boastful character and acting on whims.

A few hours later, whilst he was swimming around in a field of lilies and surrounded by fluffy kittens of all shades, his mobile started to chirp.

Castiel vaguely remembered the exclusion of any birds in his beautiful dream and fought to wake up to silence the damn thing.

"Hello?" he hoarsely answered without checking the screen. Blame it on his fuzzy mind and the absence of flowers. And kittens.

"Cas?" came a soft male voice that wasn't familiar.

No one had called him that in years. "Who is this?" it couldn't be Edith from college. Their sordid affair was something he never wanted to remember. Ever.

"It's me."

"Me, who?" Castiel demanded rather gruffly in his gravelly tone. "You have five seconds to provide a valid reason for waking me up before I block your goddamn number."

"It's Dean!" came the enlightened reply, this time though, the familiarity of that voice caused ripples between them. "Duke of York? Prince? I hate those titles, by the way."

Castiel was struggling to breathe, finding suddenly that he was choking in a stuffy bedroom. "It's 2am," he crept through the darkened apartment, flipped on a light and sought out the small patio.

"I know, I'm sorry," Dean sounded genuinely apologetic as the other man stumbled out into the night and sucked in air through his lips. "I texted you earlier and when you didn't reply, I thought that hey, the dude must have given me a bogus number." The sound of his laughter was music to Castiel's ears.

He didn't want this.

It was unfair to be woken up so early, by the one person who was slowly beginning to blur his standards around the edges, whose actions had forced him to question a few things about his beliefs.

Like why the hell had he forgotten to switch his ringtone to silent? And why on earth was he standing outside whilst the streets of London were as silent as a grave, wearing a pair of pale blue boxers and not another stitch of clothing on?

"I kind of still have insomnia," Dean continued afterwards as if they had been acquainted for many years. "Anyway, did you find out what the lily means?"

"I did," Castiel sunk into the softness of the chair, feet tucked under. And he savored the kiss of the cool wind on his face. Trying to think of anything else but the actuality of who he was talking to.

"And?"

"And…what?" he asked softly, listening intently to the background noise on the other end of the line. He could hear soft music playing that sounded very instrumental and soothing, possibly Pachelbel or Mozart.

"I guess the first thing you thought about me was that I'm putting on a good show for the public," Dean attempted to explain.

"It's more your forte than mine," Castiel remarked stiffly. He held out his fingers and splayed them.

"Well, I can promise you that was never my intention. Hey, you work for a newspaper that's been covering me and my family's scandals for years now," Dean sounded humored, "have you ever seen me do something like that in front of the camera?"

In fact, he hadn't. Castiel sighed. "Why are you calling me so late…Dean?" using the other man's name, tasting it on his tongue was something so electric, he hated himself for feeling that way. "What do you want?"

"Wow. A man of few words and a short temper. Look," Dean sighed, "I'm really sorry I called you at this hour. I'm just down in the pits right now and you're the first person I thought of to talk to. Good night—"

"Wait," Castiel's tone was softer now. He sighed again and rested his head against the wall, blue eyes distant and unaware of the twinkling stars above. "Wait, I didn't mean to sound so bitter. Given the circumstances. You did manage to yank me out of sleep. I'm slightly irritated."

"Only slightly?" Dean's tone remained soft. He sounded though, as if he was smiling.

"Why are you down in the pits?" Intrigued, Castiel decided that he was sinking in quick sand and really didn't want to pull himself out of the situation.

"Well," Dean sighed, a sound that was rather much reflective of his burdens. "Cas, my life sucks because it's a perfect representation of how more than enough money can't buy happiness."

"You seem rather happy when you're putting on a show for the BBC," Castiel noted, hoping that a helicopter wouldn't fly by just that minute and capture him curled up in his boxers in the soft glow of the moon.

"That's just it. It's a show, really. I keep thinking about my life and what I want. I'm twenty-nine years old. And I have no idea what I want."

"To be fair," Castiel understood how bothered the other man was, "you're still young. At your age, I was…trying to stand on my own two feet. Now eleven years later, I'm still uncertain of what my purpose is. I think it has something to do with discovering the truth about aliens. But I am still a work in progress."

When he heard Dean's soft laughter, Castiel's toes curled from the satisfaction of dulling the other man's woes. He smiled. He…actually smiled and wondered why someone's laughter never sounded so beautiful.

"Aliens, huh."

"There is far more evidence for than against."

"I can't believe you're forty, or almost. You look like you're in your twenties," Dean said with good humor registering in his tone. "Maybe it's because of your rather expressive attire. Not forgetting to mention the wild hair and black frame glasses."

"Perhaps you need a pair yourself," Castiel frowned. "Crow's feet, a few grays and short temper are all afterglows from being middle age."

"I'm sorry, but regardless of those, you're the most handsome man I have ever cast my eyes on."

Try not to say something that would give away the soft blush on your damn face. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and took steady, slow breath because Dean had just remarked on his looks; labelling him as quite attractive and he couldn't remember any other man apart from his brothers dishing out compliments in that nature.

"I'm afraid you do need to take up a visit to your optician soonest," when he heard Dean's laughter again, his smile stretched from ear to ear. "I refuse to believe that I am such a fierce creature to behold."

"You are though."

When the amusement did die down though, a quietness settled between them.

It wasn't truthfully nerve-wrecking. But it was too pregnant of a pause for Castiel to feel comfortable about it. Until he began to fear that he said something wrong, questioning their conversation and what he unconsciously implied that had stolen Dean's willingness to fuel it.

"Did I lose you?" he asked after a while, feeling his heart sink lower like the sun on a gloomy day.

"No, you didn't," Dean sounded hoarser and down-spirited. "I was just thinking about how unfair life can be. You'll hear by tomorrow that my wedding is being brought forward a week earlier. And if I don't get married this time, my father has threatened me. Yet again."

"Christ," Castiel was stunned. "The wrath of King John."

"Being the middle child may be a curse. Both my brothers are married, and well off. Whilst I seem to be stuck with a life that pretty much resembles a bad joke." Dean's discouragement was reflected in his tone that sank lower as he grew sadder.

Castiel could recall, Dean was never his father's favorite, stemming from an incident when the Prince was younger. An incident that caused a rift in the family and an uncertainty on the future. Even the King and Queen were not on talking terms for over a month because of it. And even when the storm had died down, John still treated his son as if he was broken.

Castiel remembered the details clearly but he didn't want to voice them in fear of dragging out a demon from the Prince's closet that he had probably fought to bury.

When Dean was four, he was described as a quiet child who loved to laugh and chase butterflies in the palace grounds. Until one day, his father walked in on him dusting his eyelids with Mary's gold eyeshadow, a string of her finest pearls around his neck.

The Prince, as an insider had revealed, was dragged out of the room by the back of his shirt. He was tossed into the King's private chambers and flogged, called all kinds of names suggestive of being gay. And when the Queen returned from her trip to Scotland, she was greeted by a child who was so frightened and disturbed, that he had to be home schooled for a very long time.

Dean couldn't go outside to chase butterflies anymore. And he was scarred way into his teen years, choosing to never accompany his father on any trips or events with the two of them in each other's company alone.

He was constantly ridiculed in school, until he made a decision to work tirelessly on physically sculpting himself into a young man that didn't resemble that thin, weak model of his former years. And since then, he had been overcompensating with his testosterone amplified interests in obsessively chasing cars, and wild nights.

What Dean never seemed to make convincing though was his inability to appear remotely interested in another woman. But there had been one. In his teen years. Lisa. Then after she suddenly returned to Ireland without an explanation for the two of them splitting up, Dean resorted to a life in the spotlight.

"Your life isn't a joke," Castiel said reassuringly, feeling the injustice in the Prince's simple statement. "It's rather much important and you're worth, Dean."

"Thanks, Cas. I just want a normal life, without the title and expectations and the weight of a damn crown on my head," Dean said sadly. "I want to go out and have a good time and not have a thousand cameras chasing me. Or blogs posting up what I had for breakfast or which gym I'm attending. What the hell I'm wearing…I don't want my life to be publicized every bloody day."

Castiel was silent for a moment, really becoming worked up from the conversation they were having. The depth. The emotions rippling through the phone.

"Dean, why are you telling me these things?" he asked boldly, wondering why his chest felt like many live wires were writhing around inside.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Prince said softly as the instrumental music in the background continued. "I like you. Maybe too much."

"We are from two different worlds," Castiel said, hating that he was experiencing some regret and refused to understand why. "We have nothing in common."

"I think we do, Cas. Aren't we both outcasts in our family?" Dean suddenly said.

The air itself, as cold as was be, suddenly took on a sharper chill. And Castiel felt his fingertips turn into icicles and he was so stunned. He shouldn't have been though.

After all, it was only expected that Dean would conduct research on his life. The magnitude of that research though was what irked him. He had a few skeletons in his closet that a command from the royal family would dig up easily. And when he thought of Dean actually initiating a background search on him, Castiel felt violated.

He never liked to be on the receiving end of prodding eyes. It's why he had taken up the role of a reporter. To tell a story rather than having the camera turned on him.

"You had no right," Castiel finally managed to say, coldness seeping into his tone. "No right to dig into my personal life to find whatever the hell you wanted to. It is disrespectful to say the least."

Dean actually laughed in all good humor. "Come on, stop being so uptight about it."

"Uptight?" Castiel seethed. "Whilst you place yourself on a pedestal to be sketched by the entire world because of your actions, I don't live like that. There is a reason why I am secluded and introverted. It is because I do not like when I'm investigated."

"Okay, so you feel that it's fair for reporters to do what they do to me?" Dean sounded as worked up on the moment too.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but it comes with being who you are. And reporters have nothing but good things to say about you. You're the one who fuels those stories with your actions."

"So, you think that it's fair."

"What's fair, is you trying to get to know me without investigating me," Castiel was angry but tried to simmer his feelings. "Here is the opportunity for you to make an effort lawfully instead of violating my privacy."

"What is it with you reporters?" Dean clearly was upset too. "You're always easy once you can get the contents of the story you're chasing. Isn't that what this is? Don't you want my story? I'm willing to give it to you."

He couldn't believe the magnitude of the injustice delivered in their conversation all of a sudden. What Dean was obviously implying was far too hurtful than anything else.

Castiel was too stunned to even reply, and he felt so cold, so dead inside. Sitting there, riding on glorious sunshine because he thought that Dean's interest in him was genuine and authentic. But to listen to a young man he had begun to become interested in, even if it was beside the point of admitting any attraction, label him as easy.

Was it so convincing to suggest that he would do anything like Ruby to get the facts for a juicy story?

Then it struck him that maybe Dean had made the association with his female feisty friend who had a reputation of sleeping around and openly flirting to suck information out of people in high ranking positions. No pun intended.

"You know what," Castiel hated that his voice was wavering from being deeply affected by undeserving emotions. "You couldn't be more wrong about me being the easy kind. But I'm not going to waste my time proving anything to you."

"Cas—" Dean sounded so softer now, almost apologetic. "That's not what I meant."

"What the hell did you mean then?"

"I meant that I trust you and it's easy for me to tell you things!"

"You don't even know me!" Castiel's raised voice startled him. "How dare you even try to judge my character?"

Dean's long sigh suggested a frustration that resulted from the turn of their conversation. "You could never be more wrong about me, Cas. If you only knew the real me, then you'd realize that I'm not the person you think I am."

"You're toying with me. I get it now. How could I be so stupid?" Castiel laughed bitterly and felt his heart crack in many places. "You're only doing this, trying to wind me up, to help you fuel your hatred towards your family. Your father."

"No," Dean said quickly as his voice cracked, "Cas, I swear, I'm not. I'd never do that to someone like you."

"Maybe you're just as bad as they say you are."

"Maybe it's so stupid because," Dean said softly, his voice wavering now, "I have these feelings for you and it's making me say all the wrong things because I've never felt like this about anyone before and I—"

Castiel ended the call, and stared at his phone.

His hands were shaking so badly, that the phone slipped from his grasp and fell onto the tiled floor but it didn't shatter.

Castiel had no idea he was fighting to keep the tears at bay, until his view of London's skyline was blurred. Tears fueled by anger. By being misunderstood and walked all over by a young man who had been brought up as a spoiled brat. A man who was still a child in every sense of the word and who had no other excuse for his actions apart from being immature.

Why would Dean purposely try to pursue him without any kind of justifiable bond between them? Could it really and truly be that he was the punching bag and a source of mockery? Their differences in upbringing was identified as inexcusable.

But there was something else underlying Castiel's emotions. When he did figure it out, it was when his hand was desperately reaching for the bottle of merlot at 4 in the morning. And he barely registered his actions mirroring the woes of a heartbreak when Hanna had left him years ago.

When he was cornered by some kind of tsunami of feelings, Castiel tried to dull his pain with alcohol. So naturally, as he sunk onto the soft chair and held the fluke of wine between his fingers, he thought about what he was passing through. What the hell he was making himself suffer from.

It wasn't just fascination from coming into contact with someone as dashing as Dean, a Prince from the Royal family.

No. It was so much more than a reporter who had written about the same man from the other side of the world. Someone who had perhaps always been intrigued by his scandals and antics in public.

This time, he had come too close to the flame. Drawing near like a moth and becoming so starstruck like a fangirl.

He had fallen into the trap way before that night.

Maybe when they first encountered each other in the washroom and exchanged words. And because he had been captured by the web and pulled into it, Castiel hadn't realized the magnitude of how fucked he was until Dean's last words kept replaying over and over in his mind. Until every sip of wine he took was punctuated by the presence of his aching heart.

Of knowing maybe, that after all these years, someone collided with him and suddenly favored him. Whether honestly, he still questioned that. But Dean's tone from his last words uttered sounded so genuinely revealing and deeply affected.

Castiel couldn't sleep that night and when he did doze off at 6am, he resorted to a blackness that was occasionally streaked with Dean's voice calling out to him in the inky pit of nothing.

xoxo

"Just like that?"

Meg smirked at Castiel over her cup of cappuccino and purposely ignored Ruby's blatant glare. "Just like that. Two invitations."

"However did you manage?" Castiel was intrigued by her catlike eyes. The way she lived on being coy. "I can only assume that it wasn't easy."

"Of course, it isn't easy. Duh," Ruby rolled her eyes and felt pure sassiness building up. "This is like the most popular Ball of the ages. And you just managed to get passes. Two."

"Well, let's just say, I don't need to sleep my way into the palace," Meg winked at the other woman. "I can use my words. Like weapons. To get what I want. How are things with you and Sam?"

"Bitch," Ruby muttered under her breath, "I'll end you."

Smiling into his cup of coffee, Castiel usually detested adversarial encounters. But the two women in his desired company were always at each other's throats. And it was rather amusing to witness Meg's composure and her ability to smile withstanding Ruby's potent glares and words.

The weather, on a Friday, was rather rainy. The streets of London were so wet, and slicked from morning of showers, that pedestrians were wearing all colors of Wellington boots. Their umbrellas swirled outside of the window on Ruby's left like rainbows. And every so often, a clap of thunder punctuated their conversation.

"Anyway, Clarence," Meg kept on smiling. "Be ready at six. I'll swing by to get you."

"Do you drive?" he was fascinated by her dominance.

"A pink Miata. It's small and cozy. Just in case you start feeling sentimental," after Meg winked at him, Ruby rose up, phone pressed to her right ear and announced that she had to make a dash.

Without his sidekick, he felt exposed in Meg's scrutiny.

She never seemed to find his face less interesting as the minutes went by. And as he wrapped up the light midday meal and dabbed at his chin with a square of tissue, his newfound friend sighed.

"What?"

Meg shrugged. "The Prince and the Reporter. It's quite a name."

"Shut up," he scowled at the street outside and the buses passing by. "You know, I think he's an assbutt. That's what he is. A high-grade scoundrel. Are you going to stare at your cappuccino all day? Or will you at some point drink it?"

Meg considered her cup and laughed. "My mind is elsewhere. I'm trying to figure out how you do it."

"Do what exactly?"

"Women have tried. So hard to get into Dean's pants. But all it took is one look from you. And he's smitten. Do you know what's the talk of the town?"

"Enlighten me," Castiel stirred his coffee. He couldn't forget their conversation over the phone. No matter what he had done to override the feelings that had overwhelmed him two nights ago. He still kept going back to reaching for the wine and deliberately trying to drown his raw, unnerving attraction.

"They say that it's love at first sight."

"I don't believe in that kind of thing." He was furious. Angry that he could have built so many walls up and survived in that sturdy mind palace until a stupid pair of green eyes cracked the foundation. "I don't believe in whimsical things like that."

"Why?"

"It's nonsense," Castiel seemed passionate all of a sudden. "It is…a ridiculous notion of having two people meet and fall in love. And isn't love at first sight supposed to be a two-way thing?"

"You tell me," she kept staring at him, trying to pry the truth out of his mind. "Do you feel anything like dizziness? Little butterflies inside your chest. Your heart sinking low like the sun and then your feelings rising like the moon. High and radiant."

"Bullshit," Castiel shook his head diverted his eyes, knowing truthfully that her words had substance.

"You know what I think?"

"Utter nonsense."

"I think you're in denial," Meg said barely smiling. "I can see it all over your face. Do you know how long it took me before I realized I'd rather romance a woman? Thirty-five years."

Castiel was staring at her. "Are you telling me that you're…"

"Oh, go on," she laughed softly, leaning back. "Say it. But I don't like labels. I met her five years ago. On a train. We were both running away from our own kind of hell. From the moment our eyes met, I fell in love with her. And ever since, she's been my definition of a place between heaven and hell."

He was sympathetic, learning from a survivor of the tragedy entailing love at first sight. "Still am unclear of the point you're trying to make."

"Maybe Dean is your eyeopener, you dimwit. Don't sit there looking cute and deny it. You have those butterflies. They're multiplying. It might not make sense. But it happens. And just like that. You're falling in love with someone you never thought you would."

"I am not falling in love with…the Duke of York," Castiel made an attempt to punctuate his statement with a nervous laugh. Reaching for the cup of juice; a mixture of cherry and pine, he felt constipated.

"Your shifty eyes and blushing cheeks say otherwise," Meg touched his curled fingers on the table. "Tonight, your butterflies will turn into Monarchs."

"Oh shut up, will you?" he scowled at her grin.

xoxoxo

For half an hour, Castiel pawed through his luggage, trying to find something close enough to a formal attire.

He had brought along a black pinstripe suit to London. But the problem was what color shirt to wear inside.

White possibly. Although he looked more like an FBI agent rather than a dashing reporter. Royal blue on the other hand did the trick, bringing out the beauty in his eyes and the pun attached to the event. And he was a man who savored puns.

"I've never seen you in a suit," Ruby waltzed in at half past five, laptop tucked under her right arm. She eyed her friend from the disheveled hair all the way down to the evident bulge in his black tailored pants. "You've got to be at least seven inches tops."

Castiel collected his small black bowtie and fastened it. "My anatomy is not up for discussion."

"Yeah, but I'm a good judge of a man's cock even without seeing it out of his pants. And you my friend," she plopped onto the couch smiling, "you're packing. Then again, it's the nerdy ones that always have something yummy to hide. A wild rodeo side, a Christian Grey. Are you a Christian Grey?"

"I'm more of a…Mister Darcy." He checked himself in the oval shaped mirror and was thoroughly satisfied.

"I've never seen the movie but I remember someone saying that he's dark and mysterious," she recalled vaguely. "Yet pompous and conceited. It's all about the eyes."

"What about the eyes?" he turned to find her sprawled out on the chair, balancing the pink laptop on a toned and exposed midsection. She was fit as a fiddle and she contained the kind of fire he found interesting but not too tempting.

"I've come across many people with blue eyes. But yours are just so electric. It's like pools of blue water with lightening inside them. Like you have goddamn eels swimming around in there."

"Never pegged you as a poet," he smiled. "Good try."

"You forgot I actually am a reporter, just like you? By the way, how is your piece coming so far? Or are you too preoccupied by the subject to separate yourself?"

"You know what," Castiel collected his phone and keys from the mantle polished to a shine. "I'm just about done with everyone believing that I'm head over heels in love with someone I hardly even know."

"Oh, come on," she sat up and stared, "don't give me that bull. You've been writing about him and his family for years now. You know things about him that I bet I don't even know."

In fact, he did. Like the scars from Dean's childhood. But he wasn't prepared to admit defeat in Ruby's presence. She never should be allowed to have the upper hand. It was what fueled her to lunge at her prey and devour it. And so Castiel left her in the confinements of the very Austen themed apartment, comfortably editing photos and chewing on a burger she had dragged in.

By the time he and Meg pulled up, the front of Westfordshire Palace was busy from a variety of guests and sparkling spotlights. The stony khaki walls rose up to eight stories containing large glass windows with lights glowering behind red curtains.

"You've never been in, have you?" Meg asked after she comfortably parked the Miata and they were on their way to the front door crowded with guests.

Castiel was at a loss for words from the beauty, the splendor of finally entering a historical gem. "Only in my dreams and perhaps videos. 600 rooms as I can recall."

"I can't even live in a place this big. It's crazy," Meg took his arm and they joined the line of people all dressed in their best formal wear.

His companion for the evening had chosen a lilac gown with full long sleeves. Her dark hair was swept up into a messy bun and she had actually dabbed a bit of pink lipstick on for the occasion.

As they handed over their invitations and climbed the red carpeted grand staircase edged in white, an overwhelming feeling captivated Castiel from the grandeur.

Not a thing was out of place; every ornament and picture frame was polished to a shine and fixed in the most precise spot. And what a fleeting moment it was to witness so much history in a gallery that many guests had stopped to study.

The entire royal line dating back to over 500 years was all captured in photos. Ranging from the Winchesters to Queen Mary's family. But the one photo that pulled Castiel like a moth to a flame was of the three brothers: Adam, Dean and Sam.

Apparently, it was the only photo that captured the likeness of how amusing the subjects were as compared to their ancestors. Because all three of them were laughing whilst Sam reached over to tickle Adam's left ear.

Dean though, took Castiel's breath away with those remarkable sparkling green eyes and the entirety of how handsome he was.

It was like coming face to face with the likeness of a young man who could only be dreamed of from the many novels he read about Jane Austen's dashing male characters. And so far, Dean was proving to be as rebellious, lively and playful in his disposition just like Elizabeth Bennet.

Sam was more of a Mister Bingley, rather soft and comforting and loyal to his brother as Bingley was loyal to Darcy. And Adam was more out of sorts than anything else. Perhaps he was a lot like Captain Wentworth; gallant, independence and bravery from his time spent in the military. He seldom smiled though and when he did, it was a forced, comical expression.

"Like what you see?" Meg teased with a soft, playful nudge on his shoulder. "I have to admit. I was always a Sam girl. I hate Adam," she whispered the last bit into his right ear. "He's so sour."

Leading from the gallery into the ballroom were smartly dressed waiters offering up bubbly champagne. Castiel took a fluke, although he preferred wine. And Meg helped herself to two glasses, downing them in quick succession.

The ballroom was undoubtedly promising of everything he had ever imagined it to be.

The dull peach tones of the room along with the soft tunes of the live band contributed to the ambience. And what a grand ballroom it was with large concrete columns on the northern side, golden sculptures of vines racing up the walls. And a white marble floor without a scratch but polished to a shine.

Castiel was speechless. Then immediately he spotted Queen Mary amongst the guests, dressed in a very beautiful gown the color of blood with the prettiest green eyes and a golden crown resting on top of her shoulder length blonde hair.

"I like her because she prefers hugs over handshakes," Meg told Castiel, the pair of them sticking to each other's side comfortably. "Usually it's a curtsey or a handshake. But Mary is more affectionate that way. Adam takes after his father. They look down their noses at anyone."

"Is that the King in the corner over there?" Castiel jerked his chin and his companion followed his eyes. "Good God, he does seem like a rather uptight asshole in person."

"He never wanted to be King. His older brother chose to marry a commoner—"

"Jack. I can recall," Castiel interrupted with a nod. "I think I know their history like the back of my hand. Jack was forced to move to France, giving up the throne."

"And John was terribly upset that he had to pull his wife into this kind of life. This champagne tastes like bubblegum. Don't you think?" She smiled at him.

Very soon, the band struck up and a few giddy young women twirled around the large columns with wide eyed men in tow.

It seemed as if there were close to 5000 guests traversing the room and many others coming in. And he wondered how long the tradition to upkeep the hosting of balls would survive as the world changed. Because the fashions were different. But everything else remained the same.

"Dean has eyes on you," Meg suddenly whispered into Castiel's right ear. "And he is staring. Can he be more obvious?"

"Where?" his voice came out rather soft as his heartrate quickened.

"Over there. By the band. On the right with his chums. Oh look," Meg sighed. "He's wearing a black tux with royal blue just like you. How sweet. It's like fate."

"Can you stop it?" Castiel hissed, standing up as stiff as a poker and refusing to cast his eyes in the direction of the Prince.

"Can you just admit that he turns your knees jelly? I'm clinging to your arm. I can feel how tense you've become. He is doing something to you."

"He's doing nothing to me."

Meg sighed. "Alright, Clarence. Be like that."

After the ball was officially opened by a short speech from her Majesty, the Queen, what followed was a dance by the brothers and their significant others.

Sam led a glowing Eileen, Adam and Carlie followed; a ravenous redhead from Scotland. And then Dean stiffly joined his brothers with Annalise in tow.

After the applause died down, the three of them circled around the floor to the soft, beautiful tunes of Pachelbel - Canon In D Major.

It was the kind of moment that awakened something in Castiel he never was privy to in his forty years on earth.

To listen to the live rendition of Pachelbel by a band that was so skilled, and to witness the perfection of the Princes' dancing. Hands down though, Sam was by far the best of the three, leading Eileen who was light on her feet and in tune with her husband. And Dean…

He danced so beautifully, Castiel's heart sighed inside his chest from the music and how the violins seemed to make him drown. The likes of a young man, someone was so glorious and captured his attention through every second. Through every breath he took. By the next minute, Castiel was thoroughly jealous of Annalise because she was evidently skilled herself.

She kept laughing at Dean sweeping her across the floor and for a moment, just for a moment, Castiel felt like his heart was about to explode. Whether from the pangs of love, or from the couple's happy countenance; he was certain of one thing. He wanted to know what an intense love felt like, that could make someone's eyes sparkle and create an undeniable feeling of electric passion.

It was frightening to admit that no matter how hard he tried to swallow down his growing interest. And perhaps the depth of his attraction towards Dean, every single opportunity that they met or talked to each other, he was falling ridiculously in love with him. A feeling that was so new to Castiel, that he wasn't sure what all of it meant because he had never felt this way about his ex-wife.

Hanna never weakened his disposition like the way Dean succeeded in doing when he sought out Castiel in the crowd and held their gaze.

Around every turn of the room, Dean never looked away. Not once. Although Annalise was in his arms and the two of them appeared like the perfect fairytale couple, the Prince glued his attention to the one man who was standing there in awe and so much passed between them.

A bit of anger. A flash of disappointment in their last conversation. A sense of being rather saddened by their circumstances. Coming from two different worlds. And then…Meg caught on and she was stunned to witness the magnitude of love. The depth of their gaze and the way Castiel melted beside her.

The way he softened and his blue eyes blinked slowly, because he was mesmerized. Hooked on the moment like a desirous dream.

Meg was certain, as she had always been, of her suspicions that her new friend, her fascinating American friend who was obsessed with Jane Austen, had finally found his soul mate. And he was so arrogant and stubborn, he wouldn't admit that he was falling in love with another man.

A man who was ultimately the world's favorite Prince, was looking at her Clarence like he was the only person in the room that mattered. And not only did Meg notice, but Queen Mary did, and she couldn't believe what she was witnessing.

Her son, her favorite, was delivering all his attention not to his future wife, but to someone else. Someone he seemed so captivated by, she craned her neck only to discover that it was the reporter from America. The one her son had publicly complimented on his 'Ocean Eyes'.

"Well, enough of us dancing," Sam addressed the crowd after the piece came to an end. He clapped his hands along with the others. "Why don't you all have a go at the dance floor. Have as much champagne as you want. There's plenty of food. Here's to the Summer of 2020!" Loud applause followed.

And then Vivaldi's Allegro brought out many couples with smiles on their faces.

Just as Meg was tugging Castiel towards the table covered in tasty treats, Queen Mary was trying to trail after her son through the crowd.

He had easily released Annalise into the arms of her friends and was somehow on the search for someone, whom she could have only ascertained was the very same person he had been drawn to.

"Just a minute, you," she took his arm, a wide smile on her face. "Come with me."

When they were away from the crowd and just near a window with heavy red curtains, she stopped. Then coming face to face with her son who was obviously flustered and worried, she took his shoulders into her grasp.

"Dean, is there something you want to tell me?" Mary resorted to fixing her son's black jacket with a smile.

Studying her face, he pretended to be clueless. "Oh, I've just remembered. Did you hear that uncle Neil is now dating a woman half his age? It's marvelous how he seems to keep going although –"

"The reporter," Mary said softly, searching his eyes. "The one you made comments about in front of the camera. The one you were just gazing at throughout your dance with Annalise."

"It's nothing," Dean's entire disposition changed and he shook his head then looked away. "At least nothing for you to worry about. Not really."

"Don't be coy with me."

"I'm not," Dean sighed.

"Sweetheart, did something happen between you two?" She captured his face between her hands and forced their eyes to meet. Trying to search for those answers inside a mind that was always in turmoil from many years of battling against itself.

"Mom, it's nothing."

"You two were just looking at each other the same way your father and I looked at each other at our first Ball. And you're telling me that it's nothing? Dean," she took his hands into her gloved ones, "there's nothing wrong with you being different. I've made it my mission to teach you that since you were a toddler."

"I know that," he squeezed her hands and smiled, "and I cannot thank you enough. But nothing can happen to me that would come from my happiness. Not with a father like mine."

"Do you…want something to happen?" Mary's heart was being weighed down by her husband's disapproval of their son.

"Even if I did," Dean admitted softly whilst the cool breeze came in through the window, "because of who I am, I don't think that it will."

"What do you mean because of who you are? Who you are as a Prince does not define you, Dean. You have proven that to the world. You're loved because of that."

"Mom, it's not going to happen because he doesn't want it to happen."

"Your father or the reporter?"

"Well, both…" Dean inclined his head and agreed rather much with a disappointed frown.

"You forget that I am also Queen and I hold an equal amount of power as your father," Mary reminded him in a certain tone. "If there is anything that you want, and your heart desires it, I will always keep fighting for you. I've always told you, Dean, that your beliefs are justified by how pure your heart is. There is no shame in wanting to fall in love with someone before you marry them."

"Then why are you in agreement with dad about forcing me to marry Annalise?" Dean asked in a hushed tone, a question that was burning inside his head for weeks.

"Because up to this point, we thought you would never find someone special enough to marry out of love. So, we kept trying to match you. It's what Monarchs do. Although I was always against the idea, you're already aware of how terrible a job your brother is doing with this whole nasty business about sleeping with a Duke's wife. And we are trying to prep you because there are discussions that you will most likely be the next King of England."

When she said it, and he finally heard it, the entirety of the truth stunned Dean because he hadn't given it much thought up to that point.

Several times over the course of the year, Sam had mentioned to him what Parliament was discussing about the future. Sam had even encouraged Dean to pay a little more attention to most things he took for granted growing up but he had lapsed.

Until now, listening to his mother literally tell him that he needed to get his life together, to make the right decisions, to focus on prepping himself to be King. It was too much to process.

"Adam will pull up his socks," he laughed, lacking honest humor in the matter.

"That is a discussion I will need to have with you sooner than later," Mary smiled afterwards. "Now this man. Are you in love with him?"

Dean's heart ached from the question because it was unfair to even think about the hurtful truth. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

"Sweetheart," she squeezed his hands between her soft ones, imploring the depth of her words to come, "it matters when your eyes sparkle when you look at him. I want that sparkle to always be there."

Dean hesitated. He glanced down at their entwined fingers. "It's completely crazy. But I've never felt this way about anyone. I'm falling in love with someone I met less than a week ago."

"It happens. I fell in love with your father from the first moment we met. I think I've tried to tell you the story a thousand times but you've always turned me down because you never liked chick flick moments." Both of them laughed. "But when I first met him, he came here with many other top-ranking men from the military. And I think it was at the punch bowl where we first fell in love. He complimented my eyes and I told him that I hated the stuffy uniforms they wore. And afterwards, I chased him whilst parliament forced him to stay away from me. Along with his pride and him denying his feelings…" Mary savored the memories. "I get the feeling that you and I are more alike than you think we are."

Dean's downcast eyes was a sufficient answer because she wasn't doing him any favors.

"Listen to me," Mary said softly, lifting his chin. "I'm not going to ask you if he loves you again because I think to more than fifty people in the room and a large amount of England, by now we're all convinced that there's something happening between the two of you. But Dean, if he doesn't want to entertain your feelings, and he shuns you, then you need to step back. I don't want you chasing after a man, risking everything you have already, to have your heart broken. You've always deserved to live the best fairytale when it comes to love." She patted his face and smiled.

"God, you're going to make me cry," Dean sniffed, chuckled a bit and dabbed at his eyes.

"I'm always going to tell you the truth as it is," she hugged him, "because I'm your mother. Now go and have fun, you handsome devil."

For a long time though, the excitement of the ball and dancing and mingling separated the two men.

A Prince who kept hoping that he would brush shoulders with a reporter who was obviously going out of his way to avoid that kind of encounter. Or maybe, it wasn't fate.

Maybe whilst Castiel was introduced to Meg's friends and familiarized himself with the likes of members of high society, he was trying as hard as he could to swallow his feelings, to shake hands and talk about politics.

How his impression of England was as a tourist.

Would he like to have dinner with the Countess of Port Mount in December?

Would he like to tour a castle in Scotland soon?

Meg was a wonderful conversationalist. Everyone seemed to like her. And then when people started to acquaint him with the likes of the man in the newspaper, Castiel didn't flinch. He had long now gotten past that bit of publicity that was uncalled for. And it wasn't going to force him to live out his days in London as a figure behind a pair of awfully large sunglasses.

Instead, he tackled the occasion with as much vigor, considering how introverted he was. And by the time an hour had gone by, Castiel wished that he was back in his apartment, ready to recharge through reading and wine.

Meg was taking a turn around the room with him by her side after voicing his frustrations on meeting anyone else. The two of them stood by a column whilst she devoured her fifth éclair and he, a truffle.

"Give it two weeks. Tops," she said gleefully. "My girlfriend will be bringing in a new couch. Aquamarine this time. She knows that I love her. I'm willing to do anything. Except aquamarine."

"Cheers to that," Castiel touched their glasses together with a nod. "By the way, where will you be publishing your article?"

"On him?" Meg jerked her chin at the oldest Winchester standing by his father and sharing a laugh. "Hopefully TMZ. I'm going to send it to People. I think they might bite. Everyone knows, Clarence. No one is bold enough to write about it."

"But you are. I like that about you," he admitted with a wink.

"Oh, stop flirting. You're not my type. And I'm not yours. We both know that."

It was enough to shut him up because he didn't want to argue with her about a topic that would lead to a discussion he didn't want to entertain. Not when it would more than likely trail towards someone he was trying hard to forget.

Spectacular wasn't a word sufficient enough to describe the Ball though. With the finest pieces of cutlery and wares. The beauty in the intricate artwork on the walls and columns. The expertise of the band and the many elegant fashions of attires that graced the space. All of it was indeed plucked out of a book.

He had words to describe it all. But what Castiel didn't have was the composure to hang onto the setting he was captured in, enough to distract him from what had happened earlier. And no matter how hard he tried to smile and appear certain of his intentions to enjoy the evening, he kept searching the crowd for that one person.

But after their gazing match an hour ago, he had set eyes on Dean once afterwards. He was in the good company of his brother Sam. The two of them were laughing and entertaining two of their cousins who wore the funniest designs of hats at every occasion. Then afterwards as he was led around the room by Meg, Castiel had lost the likes of the Prince.

"Well, I think that he is handsome," Sam's voice suddenly drifted to them in close proximity. His loud laughter followed.

Searching for the Prince, Castiel couldn't locate him until Meg pinpointed the group of royals just a few feet away.

The King looked unfazed by the whole conversation, standing next to his wife who was always smiling like her two youngest sons.

"Can we not do this?" Dean tried to whisper to his brother, taking his arm for emphasis. "You're obviously drunk already."

"You've got to admit that this is the perfect setting for anyone to fall in love," Sam kept going gaily, sipping more champagne. "Look at them, finding each other. Dancing with someone who will most likely be in their beds tonight."

"In the wise words of Elizabeth Bennet," Dean held onto his glass of whiskey and shook his head, "humorless poppycocks. The lot of them."

"Ah, but that's what you think because there's only one person who's got you in his grasp with his Ocean Eyes." Sam danced his head closer to his brother mockingly.

"Who is this person?" King John suddenly entered the conversation frowning. "I keep hearing that phrase in the same sentence as you," his eyes rested on Dean.

"The American reporter who Dean thinks is very handsome," Sam wouldn't stop as his tongue got looser.

By then, Meg and Castiel were leaning into every word. Both of them were holding their breaths.

"Isn't he?" Sam nudged his brother. "You've got to admit it. He's the most handsome man in the room apart from you and me. And that says a lot."

With the watchful eyes of his father on him though, Dean stiffened. Because if was one thing King John could communicate effortlessly through his eyes was displeasure in a topic. Distaste too. Disagreement. And disappointment.

"He's handsome, I'll admit," Dean said without smiling. "But not handsome enough to tempt me." His brother's smile faded suddenly. "I've just been joking around. None of it means anything. Nothing important anyway. He's just an egotistical American. You should go over by Eileen's side. I think she wants you to get her something to drink."

But when he caught Sam staring at something just over his right shoulder, Dean followed his brother's line of sight, only to discover the glaring pair of blue eyes that belonged to the man he absolutely loved more than anything in the world. And in the moment, he hated that he had to say all those awful things to sway his father's mind away from the truth.

From the actuality of his least favorite son, falling in love with a man whilst he was betrothed to a Princess to be married.

Chapter Text

There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.

JANE AUSTEN, Pride and Prejudice

Of all the things that encompassed his world turning upside down, Castiel was still utterly amazed by the splendor of the Summer Ball.

Held once a year as a way to upkeep the traditional etiquette of social mingling, the Royal Family always delivered with ice sculptures of fairies upturning pales that sprouted water. Of Cupid aiming his bow towards the ceiling that was white marble with vines painted gold running like veins. And the miraculous quantity of food and drinks.

Everything was more than enough to leave the guests of higher society pleased enough to continue their passionate support for the Monarchy.

It was a pity that the poisonous part of the evening was embodied in a young man whom Castiel had begun to fancy. Until the terrible injustice, a blatant defamation of his character, caused him to reduce the magnitude of his respect for Dean.

Had he been so inclined, he would have left the Ball an hour ago. But Meg's demands that he proceeded as normal, as though the sordid affair had no effect on him was something that he was forced to comply with. Because why?

He needed to act his age.

A man of his stature, of forty and considerably independent and very expressive through his graphic t-shirts and wild hair; was not to be trifled with in relation to frivolous public displays of immaturity. But nevertheless, firm on his opinions and never quick to trust, Castiel still had standards and he had respect for himself. And there was no room in his mind for folly in the likes of a skittish Prince.

"Oh dear. Here comes the cavalry." Meg suddenly snatched Castiel's arm and tugged him a little into the nearest corner, shadowed by a heavy red curtain.

Her eyes were shifty, resting on the tall figure of Sam striding through the sea of colorful personalities with a purposeful intent. And he seemed a lot less giddy from half an hour before after swallowing an abundance of champagne.

His stride was long and his eyes sweeping every inch of the room. So that when he finally spied Castiel ducking his head over a platter of scones, Sam's destination was achieved.

"Look, here me out," he wiped his mouth afterwards in a desperate gesture as the other man tried to escape.

"No. This is not the time. Or place for an explanation," Meg stepped in front of him to block her friend's exposure. "One was already given. You know. You royals are all ice. And no warmth."

"Hi, Meg," Sam acknowledged her with a forced smile and it was obvious that they were previously acquainted. "If I'm all ice, then why do you and Peggie invite me to your home every Easter for brunch?"

"It's your brothers I don't like," Meg cleared up her statement. "I don't like their smugness."

"Well then…" Sam shrugged. "Go figure. As usual, I'm the one who has to clean up their messes. Can I talk to Castiel for a moment?"

She wasn't so certain of encouraging that kind of conversation. What was done had already created a significant amount of damage on Castiel, although he refused to allow any kind of fracture to show upon his disposition. But deep down inside, he was severely affected, eating his way through scones and mince patties like the world was about to end.

Meg was convinced that anyone would be bruised after such a quick brush of the whip on the heart of a man who was too kind and beautiful to be harmed.

"I know that we haven't met," Sam said when Meg decided to leave them alone just by an open window. He held out a hand with a genuine smile. "I'm Sam Winchester. Dean's younger brother. But I get the feeling that you already know a lot about me."

They shook hands and Sam's grip was soft and reassuring. "The pleasure is mine as well. And I get the feeling that you already know about me." Castiel stood with his hands behind his back, looking rather dashing.

"Yeah, well…it's not a lot to go by since Dean's opinions on you are really biased."

"This whole affair should be brushed under the mat."

"No," Sam shook his head and suddenly appeared stunned. "No, I really don't think so. Like at all. So, get this, he's a dick. That's already established well enough by everyone. And I'm going to apologize for what he said because I feel that I need to."

"Quite unnecessary," Castiel waved it off, eyeing the plate of minced patties without realizing that he had a tendency of binging when overwhelmed with nerves.

"It was my fault," Sam persisted and he paused when two guests passed by, whispering to each other in earnest. "I shouldn't have kept asking him questions about you in front of our father. I was…kind of strung up on too many glasses of champagne. And it's enough to get my tongue loosened up too much."

"It happens to the best of us," Castiel smiled after he had already made the general assumption that the younger Winchester was absolutely likeable.

"All I'm saying is, for as long as I can remember, Dean has never been our father's favorite. He always gets the worst end of anything and with his recent refusal to marry Annalise," Sam shrugged his wide shoulders with a sympathetic look. "Dad's pissed way past next week. Now on top of that, if he finds out that Dean's actually got a crush on someone like you—"

"Like me," Castiel pursed his lips, and folded his arms.

"Wildly mysterious and sexy as hell," Sam laughed and it was catchy to the other man who smiled from ear to ear. "But nevertheless, you're not what John expects. You're a commoner. You're an American and worst of all, you're a dude."

"You know, for a Brit, your manner of speaking is rather loose. In fact," Castiel allowed a wider smile, "I'm beginning to wonder if you've spent a lot of time in the USA."

"Blame it on tv, books and movies."

"Convincing," Castiel nodded. The two of them eyed each other with a sense of familiarity in lack of passing judgment and an immediate attempt to offer nothing but compassion.

"So, John would throw a fit. I think he already has started to mention something about bringing up the wedding a week and…" Sam's brows furrowed, "…sending Dean to military school. Which by the way, would ruin him, because he's so soft, and so kind and to toughen him up would be a waste on a man who I've always loved just as he is. He's lighthearted, I know. He can be frivolous and spontaneous. But he really is the best kind of guy. Trust me, I've known him all my life."

"Now you're the one giving me quite a biased recommendation," Castiel said with slight amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"He's just under a lot of pressure right now to marry someone he doesn't love. And I think when he met you, everything changed for him. In more ways than one, Castiel, my brother has been in love once in his life, so, to meet someone like you and watch him literally…lose his shit. It's kind of entertaining for me."

"Well, perhaps the truth behind all of this is that he is now trying to find someone to fuel his rebellion against your father," Castiel announced with certainty. "No, hear me out," he begged when Sam shook his head in disagreement. "It's only wise to ascertain that at some point in life, one decides that in order to completely change the way things are done, they will do whatever it takes. I might be just…perhaps…the means to an end."

"You aren't," Sam demanded passionately. The wind coming through the window lifted his incredibly stylish hair. "Believe me, you aren't. You should hear the way he talks about you. There's this look in his eyes that I haven't seen in ages."

Castiel was sinking into a softness that he wished not to experience. A look in Dean's eyes? What look? He fought against his mind to admit that he loved Dean's eyes but his heart won.

"Afterwards," Sam continued, "Dean's been putting on this show for the whole world to see, because sure, he wants to prove that the Royal family is becoming modernized by him. In this day and age, we can't even decide who we want to marry."

"It's just the way things are done," Castiel said softly to a brother who was much more in tune with his innermost feelings. "It's what you may call, strategizing to keep the essence of your family strong enough to live on."

"You seem to like us very much," Sam teased.

Castiel shrugged. "The very presence of such an institution in the world is beyond amazing."

Sighing, both of them studied the view outside of the window that comprised of the bustling activity in front of Westfordshire Castle. Guests were still arriving and some leaving, as cars crawled along the curb to swallow up people dressed in an abundance of styles.

"Dean's a wonderful brother," Sam pressed on. "I kind of got myself into a fix with a reporter about two years ago. And whilst I thought it was love, it couldn't last because she turned out to be just trouble." Sam didn't notice Castiel's change in demeanor. "Dean was the one who advised against the match because of her background. She was bad news for me."

"Who was the reporter?"

Sam sighed, never quite latching on to the stunned look on the other man's face. "The same one who works with you. Ruby. Meg's okay. But Ruby's bad news."

After the two of them had left the window in wake of fluttering blinds, Castiel felt as if his chest would combust.

He was presented with bit of news that seemed to fry his mind, pushing him into an angered mood that was not too long ago, softened as he was beginning to somehow let go of Dean's statements made to his father. Because Sam had cleared up that part; of Dean feeling like he needed to put up an act to conceal whatever he was feeling for Castiel.

But he had no right to defame Ruby's character in such a way.

Of all the things she had done; being reckless with men, trying to squeeze stories out of people by patronizing them. Ruby had always been the most genuine person he had ever met in his life because she never held back on the truth. She lived her life dangerously since she never had an easy one to begin with.

Ruby had spent her first six years as a frightened child in one of the cruelest orphanages that ended up being shut down by the government because of their methods of discipline. Then she was adopted by a couple from England and spent a considerable amount of time struggling with her demons.

Eventually, they had enough of the indiscipline from her rebellious character and kicked her out into a cold world at the age of sixteen. From there, she started to use her only means of escape; photography, to make money.

Then the worst part of her life ended up happening in quick failures of digging into the discovery of who her parents could be. Her mother turned out to be deranged inmate serving a life sentence in a prison in the USA. And her father wanted nothing to do with her.

It was unfair, to say the least.

It was enough to boil Castiel's blood because he was certain of one thing; since Dean had managed to dig up enough about him to figure out that he was an outcast, then he most definitely discovered everything about Ruby's life. And still, he deliberately chose to disregard her struggle, to advise against his brother's love and attachment to someone he viewed as a bad match.

It was a completely and utterly hurtful resemblance to Darcy's character from Pride and Prejudice.

For a long time, Castiel segregated himself within his mind whilst Meg led conversations with other people. He stood there in a stiff disposition, quite present but distant, clutching a fluke of champagne, downing it slowly and reaching for another. Then another.

He stared at the band's lively performance and thought of the kind of young man Sam was; very open-minded, compassionate and honest. And he bet that the youngest Winchester would have gone out of his way to encourage Ruby's affections.

When Castiel felt a tap on his right shoulder, he startled a little, coming out of that other wavelength consumed by thoughts. But then, turning around to immediately gaze into familiar green eyes only ignited more anger that had been brimming on the surface.

It was him; in all his glory, up close and an instant reminder of Darcy's inflamed flaws.

"Hi," Dean said lightly, with a cautious countenance.

As handsome as he appeared, apparently the tables had turned. He wasn't handsome enough to tempt Castiel with his arrogance and complete disregard for other people's feelings.

"Can we talk? I'm…" the Prince immediately detected the storm brewing inside the other man's eyes and swallowed hard, the light dulling in those sparkling orbs. "Cas, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"Forgive me but your apologies have become too ridiculous enough to bear. And I am in no mood to encourage a conversation," Castiel took Meg's right elbow lightly. When she discovered who his companion was, her eyes flashed.

"Right, Clarence. Let's be anywhere else but here."

"Certainly," Castiel allowed himself to be led away, without even throwing another glance at Dean who was left staring, obviously deeply affected and speechless.

But after taking several turns around the room and finally settling on a group of Americans who were enlightened to meet him, Castiel survived an hour more.

The light conversation on their community service and programs for the homeless in England more than piqued his interest. He was informed along with Meg's surprise, that they had met the Queen and spent an evening with her just this February.

"The loveliest woman I've ever met in my life," Bill Savory complimented in good humor. "You know, she actually visited a few of the sites where we were building shelters earlier this year?"

"The kids were ecstatic," Anne, his wife added. Her resemblance to Jennifer Aniston was uncanny. "She spent the entire afternoon playing with them in the yard. Then she spent the rest of it reading and telling them about her sons when they were younger."

"The Duke of York followed suit a few times too," Bill said, immediately capturing Castiel's interest although he didn't wish to care. "He comes out and checks up on what we're doing even if we aren't here. He's good with the kids. Always brings more than enough bags of treats for them on every visit."

"Well, we don't call him the world's favorite Prince for nothing," both her and her husband laughed. Meg followed softly and Castiel smiled.

The entire evening was beginning to tell on his nerves because there was nothing more insulting than feeling like he was someone else's chew toy. And when he was speared many times by injustices, Castiel entered a sour mood that was unbecoming. He grew restless and irritated. He knitted his brows more than before. His lips pressed into a fine line and he contributed nothing to the conversations.

Then if the whole damn chain of calamity couldn't get any worst, it did.

Just as he was by Meg's side, the Queen announced a preferred dance involving her sons to 'Jenny's Market'. And she allowed Adam, Sam and Dean five minutes to seek out someone other than their significant others, even a friend to share a dance with.

Whilst the room settled into a buzzing that resonated with those who were hoping to be selected, Meg tugged Castiel out onto a balcony. She was frantic. After meeting eyes with a man who she believed to be Peggie, her girlfriend's ex, she wasn't in the mood to entertain a sudden encounter.

"What's not to like?" Castiel tried to smile. "You have the girl now. He lost her."

"I stole her away from him. Hardly something to talk about," it was Meg's turn to appear entirely cross. "The only thing nice about Jeffrey is his very good sense of suits."

"Then again, you might not be a good judge of character in his case. The guy looks practically harmless. And well-endowed judging from the bulge in his pants."

Meg's spirits lifted. "You're not gay. Sure, Clarence. Keep fooling yourself."

"I was merely trying to lighten the—"

"There you are," someone said suddenly and breathless behind him.

Because Castiel was standing with his back towards the room, he tried to search Meg's eyes. But she merely stared at the person who had spoken with nothing but alarm. And when he did turn around and discovered that he was just a few inches away from Dean, Castiel stopped breathing.

Not because he was choking on anger. But he was suddenly washed over with a cold, nervous kind of feeling that weakened his knees and forced him feel like a teenager all over again, gazing into the eyes of someone that everyone had a crush on. And because he was so ridiculously captivated in the moment, Castiel had to fight to push through the haze of his undoubtfully tremendous attraction towards the Prince.

"Since you escaped earlier, I…have…been looking literally all over for you," Dean was smiling, maintaining his lively and playful disposition. "Where were you? Did you step out?" he seemed breathless still, his cheeks taking on a light flush.

Castiel on the other hand was slowly gaining back his composure. Whilst he was obviously deeply affected by the other man invading his personal space, there was nothing more annoying than the reminder of being considered as not handsome and egotistical.

His brows knitted and fists clenched. "No, why does that concern you?"

"Will you dance with me?" Dean rushed out, his eyes never even registering Meg who was standing behind her friend, in awe.

"I beg your pardon?" he hadn't heard right. Castiel hated that the damn butterflies in his chest flitted around like they had consumed ecstasy when the other man was in close proximity.

"The dance," Dean gestured with his thumb towards the interior of the palace. "We get to choose someone that's…special to dance with. It's Jenny's Market. I'm pretty certain you wouldn't mind because I'm going to show you the steps. All you have to do is follow my lead."

"I'm sorry," Castiel inclined his head and appeared terribly confused. "Are you really and truly asking me to…go out there and dance with you? As your partner?"

Dean's smile stayed where it was. Hands behind his back, he nodded. "Yeah. Adam is dancing with his buddy Marcus. It's fine."

"No," Castiel said almost too quickly. "I most certainly will not."

For a moment, those green eyes, the same pair of eyes that had managed to bewitch Castiel lost their sparkle. Dean's smile evaporated and then finally his gaze flicked to Meg then back to the man standing before him.

"Can I ask why?" Dean's tone had softened. "Although Sam told me that he basically convinced you that what I said—"

"What you said?" Castiel interrupted in a clipped tone. "Is that all you think there is to be remedied?"

The Prince appeared genuinely stunned. "I've acted recklessly, I know that. By my public embarrassments that are constantly treasured by me, believe me. I don't regret the things I did to prove how much I…" Dean paused, their gaze deepening. "I know that what I said to my father was wrong. It's not the truth. There has been nothing but admiration for you."

Castiel could feel the fire licking beneath the surface of his calm countenance. "Your views on everything thus far have been taken too lightly."

"Cas, come on," Dean pleaded, his chest heaving. Obviously, he was fighting to control his emotions.

They were only a few inches away from each other, Castiel realized, and he could feel the warmth radiating from Dean. The caress of his breath on Castiel's face. The way the Prince's eyelashes fluttered like a gift of nature. His features, as if sculpted by an angel were severely affected by the exactitude of their conversation and the intensity of their attraction that he was struggling to contain himself.

Castiel didn't fall short of whatever was happening to Dean though. But it had to be illegal for the Prince to just stand there, looking so dashing and clearly tempting, and he had to fight against everything; the urge to just encourage the conversation, and to forget his anger. His heart was trying to force him to ignore the injustices and to dance, just dance with Dean, because then he guiltily would be able to experience the overwhelming rush of stretching his boundaries.

"I'm just trying to not screw this up," Dean said, and he swallowed.

But then, Castiel remembered Ruby. He remembered how unjust it was for the Prince to interfere, to stick his nose in and base his judgments wrongfully. Of how he felt compelled to deprive other people of happiness whilst he really wanted it the easy way by pretending and acting so bold and reckless and immature.

"You know what," Castiel said afterwards, feeling his chest overwhelm with anger. "Go find someone else to dance with, besides this unworthy, egotistical American." And just like Cinderella on the night of the Ball, he excused himself from Meg, slipped past Dean and bolted to the exit.

Not in a manner of exerting energy by running though. It was more like an easy jog comprising of long strides through crowds of people who really didn't care for his intrusion because the dance had already started. Without Dean. And because Castiel was so determined to leave that godforsaken place, although the beauty was unforgettable, he descended the red carpeted stairs in a haste.

Then after being directed by the doorman away from the entrance towards a hallway, he took it and could already taste the cool night breeze coming in from a doorway fast approaching.

From the moment Castiel stepped outside, he was faced with the gardens illuminated by strings of yellow lights that wound around archways. And the air was heavy with the fresh scents of flowers, which only contributed to stirring up memories of an afternoon prior.

When Dean had handed over a lily in front of flashing cameras.

Now, he sought out what he believed to be the path leading towards the front of the palace. But he ended up trapped in a maze that forced him to come to a standstill and to catch his breath.

With deep mouthfuls of fresh air, Castiel tried to dull the ache in his chest. His vision blurred seconds afterwards from tears, becoming entirely frustrated and irritated. But most of all, disappointed in himself for the way he felt because tragedies like this never happened to him. These approaches never seeped through his walls that he had built over the years to keep out romances.

He wasn't the kind of man who brushed shoulders with a woman and fell instantly in love with her. So why was he flailing in the deep end now?

Why did he agreed to come to England without following Zachariah's warnings about 'finally getting laid'? Possibly, all of it had been a premonition, of coming here to fuck up what was already a normal life for him.

There was no way on earth that he was actually having these disturbing desires for another man. A young man who wasn't just an ordinary human being but a titled one.

Dammit, it was like being pulled into a newer version of a Jane Austen novel, where everything about his character, was being reassessed and changed because of Dean's advances. And he hated it.

Castiel didn't want romance. He liked being alone. He liked living with his cat and drinking copious bottles of wine. He liked living every day in the same routine. He liked being independent and sure of himself. And never in a million years would he have ever imagined that he would be standing in the garden of Westfordshire Palace, questioning his sexuality.

He was on the brink of crying out of frustration when footsteps pattered behind him on the concrete walkway. And Castiel felt his presence before he even turned around.

He felt Dean's warmth instantly, the kind of warmth that was supposed to anger him but rather much melted the ice slowly. And before Castiel could gather his wit, he started to drown in Dean's eyes and was completely convinced in that moment that he was really losing his damn mind. That he was in every sense of the word…fucked.

"You're not an unworthy, egotistical American," Dean was breathless, completely riding out a high. "You're…" he clutched his sides, chest heaving, "adorable and beautiful. You're amazing. And…completely –"

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel cut him off in a demanding voice that was a bit unsteady. "Would you just stop it? Stop saying these…things to me." He hated that he sounded as if he was pleading. In the moonlight too. It was so tragic.

Dean, however, caught on fast and his eyes softened. "I'm not going to stop because I can't."

"Are you trying to play with my feelings because you want to use me?"

"Cas, goddammit. No." Dean stared back in disbelief. His eyes widened and he took one tentative step forwards. Pleading. His chest heaved when the other man stepped back.

The tension between them was so electric. So thick and so alive. And it was everything Castiel had craved for; every single fleeting and dangerous emotion rippling between them. But at what cost?

"Why then?" he tried to square his shoulders and could literally feel his heart hanging on a thread.

Dean was still trying to catch his breath. Whether from running or riding high on a wave, there wasn't any kind of certainty established. "I told you before. I really meant it when I admitted that I'm attracted to you."

"Complete nonsense," Castiel waved it off and slowly turned on the spot. He also presented his back to Dean with the main intent to shield his weakened composure. "It's ridiculous, that's what it is. We hardly know a thing about each other apart from whatever it is that you dug up on me. We have nothing in common."

"We do," Dean said softly.

"We don't!" his voice pierced the silence. The sound of the band was faint from upstairs. Castiel was shaking. The windows were illuminated. This wasn't happening to him. Not like this.

Dean sighed from behind him. "I'm going to tell you about the things I like, and I'll let you make your own judgment on how similar we are. Because I can feel that we are. I see it in your eyes. And I just…know and I don't know how I could see all these things about you."

He needed to stop. Castiel wanted to plead with Dean to stop saying those kinds of words that had so much depth. But he couldn't. He didn't want to stop him.

"I am…obsessed with Jane Austen," Dean continued in a light tone. "I have read her books excessively, probably more than six times." He stopped and gathered himself. The light wind couldn't numb his face further.

"If you don't believe me and you think that I'm making it all up. I've always spent my summers since I was old enough, visiting all the places, trying to trace her steps. Hampshire. Her house. I was there. Where she…spent the last years of her life. Chawton House. Basildon Park. Belton House."

Castiel didn't realize he had stopped breathing until his head began to grow dizzy. And he remained turned away from the other man because of his weakened state.

"Chatsworth House," Dean said softly. "Do you remember it? Darcy's house from the 2005 film. The one that Lizzie visited? I modeled my castle into the likes of it. I've opened a Jane Austen Museum not too far from here. I'd love to take you to see it."

No. All of it was too much. He was so breathless, Castiel couldn't believe that he could survive the agony of finding someone who was as captivated as he. As fanatic as he was in Austen. But he still kept his back towards the other man because he couldn't face him with the tears streaking down his cheek.

"I love cats. Uh, 60s and 70s music…I listen to nothing else. Also, Helen Shapiro is golden," Dean laughed nervously. "Call me old fashioned but I love a good old soppy love song than most modern ones."

And Castiel finally turned around to stare at him, as the Prince kept wringing his hands. The two of them locked eyes and implored something that was beyond understanding but more like honesty in the depth of their connection.

"What's your favorite?" Castiel whispered, his voice barely audible above the rush of the wind around them. "Song, I mean. The one from her that appeals to you the most."

"Cliché," Dean bowed his head and seemed too shy. He looked so stunning in the moonlight that magnified the beauty of his flawless skin. The lights danced in his eyes. "But…I think I'll have to go with Queen for Tonight."

"Mine too," Castiel was still in awe. "But I'm still not convinced. You could have known all that about me if you easily asked my cat."

When Dean laughed, he melted the other man's heart further because the decision to include humor had slightly dulled the tension between them.

"I'm a sucker for fairytales, Cas. Since I was a kid, I've always wanted to meet someone, fall in love with them whilst defying society's norms. And then have this whole big wedding with carriages drawn by horses dressed in fancy gear. I'm just telling you this because I get the feeling that you want the same thing. You've always wanted that. I can see it in your eyes, the way you look around the palace. The kind of fascination that only means that you've dreamt about it."

"How on earth could you know…that," Castiel said rather than asked. He was stunned from the other man's honesty, the way he spoke with such certainty on his character.

"Also," Dean inclined his head and smiled, "uh, if you're like me as much as I think you are, you have always been waiting to fall in love with someone who is thoroughly versed in Jane Austen."

Castiel was shaking his head, becoming too dizzy, he was afraid of fainting. "You're trying to butter me up. And it's working. But I'm not…gay. I'm not…I've never been." He stumbled on his words.

Dean took one step closer. But it was too much. The air between them filled with so much warmth that was inviting.

"Don't," Castiel shook his head again and stepped back. He swallowed hard and diverted his eyes to their shoes. "I am most certainly not attracted to you. You're…not. You're a man. Who is…immature and light humored and too reckless…"

The silence that followed was painful between them, and filled with angst and a sufficient amount of uncertainty.

It reached a point where Castiel's gaze flicked towards the other man's parted lips, then lingered there because he had a sudden unbelievable urge to discover what Dean tasted like.

Champagne maybe. No, whiskey. The finest from Scotland and his lips. His mouth was beautiful just like the rest of him. All of it made Castiel sigh inside and he regretted what he had said, completely lying about his feelings in every possible way.

"Okay, fine. You're not attracted to me. But keep trying to convince yourself that I'm all of those things; immature and reckless," Dean said afterwards and he sounded terribly wounded. "And that I'm the worst kind of person. You're probably right. I am all of what you say I am. But I behave the way I do for a reason. And maybe if you weren't so arrogant and conceited," he stopped, squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply when Castiel stared back at him in disbelief.

"You would realize that I'm so far gone. I'm severely broken from my past because you know about my past, don't you? Of course, you do. I have a war," he gestured at his head, "going on up there that I always lose. And the only way I can cope is by chasing wild dreams and adrenaline. By finding someone that I am interested in and trying to pursue that person doesn't make me immature or reckless. Maybe I'm the kind of guy who wants to take the risk and fall in love because I feel that you're worth it."

"Dean," Castiel said softly, regretting everything he had the guts to utter before. "I didn't mean…"

"No, it's fine. After all I've done to you, I deserve this." Tears clouded green eyes. "I'm really a bad person."

Castiel was so embarrassed. "You're not a bad person."

"Then why would you go out of your way to avoid me, to turn me down and embarrass me in front of your friend and everyone else who caught on fast enough?" Dean's voice was so hoarse, and his eyes pleaded for understanding. "Do you think that I chose this? I didn't."

"Dean, this is ridiculous," Castiel returned in a soft tone, "and it can't ever happen."

But the other man was clearly upset enough to continue without sparing sympathy. "Of course, it can't because that's your choice, not mine and I have to respect that. I'm going to…go", Dean gestured towards the palace with tears in his eyes. "Thanks for proving to me that I'm not worth it to even someone as attractive and amazing and handsome as you are. Good night."

He didn't chase after him, just as he had been pursued though. And he hated himself for feeling the worst kind of pain as the distance between them lengthened. As Dean walked away in his black tuxedo and polished shoes with his hair ruffled by the wind. As he never looked back but climbed the steps and disappeared inside.

Later that night, when Castiel was sitting on the small balcony, almost at the bottom of the wine bottle, he kept replaying their conversation over and over again. He kept going back and experiencing the pain in his chest. How his heart was begging him to just let go of holding up his walls. To let the walls collapse and fall.

"Common sense leaving my body, Ruby would say," he muttered to the moon. "I'm evidently going through a midlife crisis. It's like high school all over again and this time," he gazed up as he spoke to the moon partially hidden by grey clouds, "I'm not the one who sits on the bleachers smirking at the girls who fell for boys and the girls who chased after the hottest guy. I'm the one being chased." He sighed, rested the wine bottle down and shook his head.

When his mobile chirped, he fished it out of his jeans.

Castiel stared at the screen for a long time before he opened the text.

Can we start over? I can't lose you. I want to get to know you. I want you in my life, Cas. Please give me another chance?

His lips trembled as he kept reading the text over and over again. And when the hot tears leaked down his cheeks, Castiel locked his phone and pressed it to his chest.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't give up everything he worked hard to achieve in his life for someone he shouldn't have feelings for in the first place. For someone he could never have even if he wanted him.

Even if as he sat on the chair outside under the moonlight, his body began to ache so deeply and he began to long to be near to Dean more than ever. To savor the warmth of the Prince's breath. The depth of their gaze. The breathless pursuit to get him to dance. The honesty when he even told his brother about their connection.

For the moment, he realized…that he was falling in love so fast and so recklessly. And Castiel picked up the merlot, and drank and drank until he had consumed the entire bottle.

Chapter Text

There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

JANE AUSTEN, Persuasion

The two days that followed were filled with Ruby and Castiel frequenting each other's apartments. But not accomplishing anything in the process of being successfully annoying.

She continued to steal his snacks and suck up his expensive wines. And he retaliated by diminishing her Hunts chocolate puddings; at least one in every two hours.

It was a partnership that survived only on their mutual passion to work on a pain in the ass article. Yet, try as he might, Castiel couldn't seem to focus.

He was constantly bombarded by mini heart attacks from what had happened between him and Dean. And Ruby's incessant chatter on the television show 'Reign' wasn't helping.

"I mean, Bash is like so fuckable but then there's Francis. I can't make up my mind," she was chewing on Twizzlers, yanking at them like the feisty beast she was. "Who do you prefer?"

"Hmm?" he considered the two neat paragraphs on the laptop screen, serving as an introduction to the Royal family. Frowning, Castiel hit the BACKSPACE key and cleared all of it with a groan.

"Bash or Francis," Ruby tried again, rearing her head to consider him sitting crossed legged on her black leather sofa. "Which one is your type?"

"I don't…have a type," he said, quite distracted by the blank WORD document.

What on earth should be his opening?

Obviously something catchy. Perhaps, 'it all began with the sparkling green eyes that bewitched the entire world'. Or 'nothing could ever compare to the playful smile and soft boyish manners of the Duke of York'.

"Fuck," Castiel swore, yanked off his black glasses and tossed them aside. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, eyes squeezed shut. "I am absolutely fucked."

"Here," Ruby pushed herself up, and sauntered towards him, balancing her pink laptop in one hand. "This might cheer you up." She plopped onto the couch next to him and surrounded his space with the light scent of vanilla. "That's Bash," she pointed at a handsome dark-haired man on the screen. "And that's Francis." The other one was desirably good looking with blonde hair.

"Since when am I an expert on choosing the most appealing man?" he nudged her right arm and she playfully returned the gesture. "Oh, come on. Get out of my space. You smell too delectable." He ignored her mischievous grin and pointed at Francis. "Him."

"Are you serious right now?"

"I am in no mood for games," he squeezed out of the small space on the couch and went towards the dining table.

The view was stunning from where Ruby sat every morning to enjoy her bowls of oatmeal. The river Thames, from her balcony began just a stone's throw away and the water was flat and glassy at ten in the morning.

After the Ball two days ago, he managed to divulge just enough information to whet Ruby's palette. Purposely leaving out the bit about Dean's involvement in breaking up her ties to Sam because if there was one thing to consider about Ruby; she was vicious and he wouldn't put it past his friend to storm up to the palace screaming threats.

It wasn't the time or place for that sort of outburst since they were working on an article about the Royal Wedding. Mind you, a wedding that seemed to pull Castiel's head under water more and more as he kept latching onto whatever he was feeling for the Prince. The kind of fearful but fleeting feeling of not knowing what would happen but guiltily desiring it anyway.

When was the last time he had a little thrill in his life?

"I still think Bash is totally hotter," Ruby continued her childish lament on something Castiel couldn't care less about.

He had managed to type well into his third paragraph by lunch. Regrettably, after leaving her apartment with the promise that they would meet up for a night on the town later, he didn't feel up to it.

Castiel was so introverted, he desired the confinements of his room because he really needed to charge up his batteries after running in the danger zone a little more than expected. His brain was in overdrive. His heart was steaming from emotions. And no matter how many videos of Jennifer Lopez he watched, the strain on his sexuality still remained.

For the very first time in Castiel's entire existence, Dean was the one and only young man who had managed to cast a net on him. A web of lethal desire; if he was to concoct a painful phrase.

It's not that he was so infatuated by the Prince that he wanted to physically…well that was a blatant lie. No. This wasn't just an instance where he spied Zac Efron on the television and thought he was a damn good-looking man.

This was so much more than that. And he distinctly remembered standing under the moonlight, and gazing into Dean's eyes as the other man expelled his love for Jane Austen.

The honesty on other qualities that were admirable and mutual sparked up a fire inside of Castiel because they had a lot in common thus far and the similarities were entirely intriguing.

But the exactitude of these similarities was too prickly to hold and he regrettably ended up voicing his frustrations. And just in that moment when those green eyes were lit by small warm fires, Castiel had wanted to kiss Dean.

He had really wanted to close the distance between them and softly taste Dean's lips, curious to discover how another man's mouth would feel as compared to a woman's soft one. Knowing well enough that lips as beautifully formed as the Prince's, had to be worthy and an experience. And because he had lost all common sense and couldn't seem to grab it back, Castiel tried to blame Dean.

He was trying to burn away the love with the kind of hatred that stemmed from disapproval of Dean's advances and boldness, of his pursuit and constant need to prove a point; to push and push until he unearthed a reaction. And the more Castiel thought about it, he hated that he was being chased after by a man.

All the doubts that welled up seemed to never quite settle comfortably without proving that life's journey may never be predictable. Had he known a month prior that the pursuit of a young man to deliberately invade his personal space would eventually have him questioning his sexuality; then Castiel would have laughed and called the entire premonition off as frivolous.

Two knocks on the door yanked him out of the tank full of immoral thoughts. And sighing, he locked the laptop. Then his footsteps padded softly on the floor as he went towards the intruder of a very peaceful afternoon.

"A letter from the Westfordshire Palace, sir," a man dressed in the finest black suit and royal blue tie bowed and held out a white envelope that had very interesting gold trimmings.

"From where?" Castiel collected the mail and frowned.

"Her Majesty, the Queen."

"What on earth is—" but before he could continue, the fellow briskly walked off down the hall, never looking back.

Castiel's eyes followed him to the elevator five doors down wearing a confused expression. The hotel was extremely quiet. Maybe because it was just 2 o'clock on a Monday evening. But the delivery of a mail such as he was holding in his hand was completely suspicious in its nature.

He took the envelope to the small couch, poured himself two inches of wine and sat back studying the gold trimmings. The address was printed in gold too. And after he dared to sniff the stationery, he distinctly detected a faint scent of jasmine.

"Not bad at all," Castiel gave into his curiosity regardless of the doubts and gently pried open the flap. He pulled out a small off-white card. "Handwritten too. What sorcery is this?"

Dear Castiel Novak,

I sincerely hope that you are well and you're enjoying your stay in England. I would like to invite you to have afternoon tea with me at 4p.m prompt. A car will be waiting outside your residence at 3:30p.m.

Sincerely,

Mary Winchester

He read the letter several times, searching even between the ink for forgery. Holding it up to the light to assess the distinct watermark which turned out to be quite genuine enough. And afterwards, Castiel marveled over two things: actually receiving a letter from her Majesty, the Queen. And being invited to have tea with her.

But why on earth was she requesting his company?

When the burning answer rushed in like a tsunami into his mind, blaring all the truths, Castiel rose up from the chair.

Dean Winchester.

He stopped breathing, stared through the opened window as the red lace fluttered to one side. And because he was seldomly overwhelmed with nervousness, he frightened himself from feeling exactly that.

Why should the invitation speak of any other intentions other than the blatant advances and public displays of affections?

After deciding on a simple grey long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black tailored pants, he left his hair untamed and ventured downstairs at a quarter to 4.

As promised, a black Bentley was hanging by the curb with heavily tinted windows. And as he tentatively approached the vehicle polished and shining, a man politely stepped up and pulled open the door.

If he described the ride to Westfordshire Palace as uneventful and serene, it would be a lie, because as soon as he folded himself neatly into the backseat, Castiel came face to face with no other than a grinning Sam Winchester.

"Good golly, I didn't know we were taking the same car!" the Duke of Sussex offered up a wink.

"Very funny," Castiel shook his head, mild amusement showing on his face. Trying to contain his true feelings on the matter wasn't that difficult. Naturally, his disposition never quite reflected anything tied to his emotions unless the situation was too overwhelming.

"Geez, don't be nervous. Actually, that's why I came with the car," Sam cleared his throat and affectionately patted the other man on his back. "I thought you would be. So, I came to personally assure you along the way that my mother is the softest, kindest woman you will ever meet."

"That's not the only reason why I'm nervous."

"The topic of discussion."

"Exactly," Castiel nodded, folded his arms and squinted at the top of the driver's head. He detected a blue streak which was rather wild for a chauffeur of the Royal family to be sporting.

"If it makes you feel any better, the tea is exceptional at Westfordshire." Sam's legs were so long and cramped in the backseat, he didn't even seem to be uncomfortable though.

"I'm more of a coffee junkie. But I favor teas as my first cup in the morning. And before bed."

"You ever poured whiskey in your tea?"

Castiel stared. "A little bit goes a long way to begin and end the day."

"I like you," Sam smiled widely whilst nodding slowly. "A man who has his shit together, who has developed habits that are very admirable. And…most of all, a man who has standards that can knock my brother down a peg or two."

"I intend to do no such thing."

"Oh, but admit that it would be fun," Sam tipped his head and offered a teasing look. "So, so much fun. Anyway, enough about Dean. Have you been able to check out most of London as yet?"

Castiel used the rest of the time to decorate his experience thus far with visits to the London Eye, the Tower of London and the Zoo.

The first two were compliments of Ruby, to which he didn't include her name as the tour guide. And the last one didn't include anyone else whilst a group of teenagers kept calling him Clark Kent and laughingly asking where he hid his cape.

"You've got to let me take you to the other fun places," Sam raked his fingers through shiny locks. "Since all three of us are book nerds, I bet you'll like a few cafes and hangout spots in London. Like the Cat Nap for instance."

Castiel wasn't keen on the idea of spending time with Dean Winchester before sorting out his scrambling thoughts. The collision could be detrimental and the aftermath of a hurricane like the last time they came face to face.

He couldn't forget spending the entire night consuming two bottles of merlot and eventually numbing the small insecurities that wrapped around his heart like weeds.

"Just a minute," Sam touched his arm when they were on the steps of the palace. When their eyes met, he offered a sympathetic look. "There's more to Dean than even the BBC or any paper could ever know, including you. I'm not just saying that he is everything good in the world. But he has many demons."

"Don't we all?" Castiel frowned.

He didn't leave his newfound friend's side until the two of them were rung in to his mother's sitting room on the topmost floor of the palace. From there, Sam stole a scone from the table, remarked on the warmth of the room. And then he left a quite nervous Castiel who didn't know where to stand or what to say.

Queen Mary, on the other hand, offered nothing but a sense of calm and an abundance of smiles. "I always tell my Prime Minister to leave his nerves at the door." She gestured for him to have a seat opposite her. "You're no different. It's nice to officially meet you, Castiel."

"And you, your Highness," lacing his fingers together, he tried to take measured breaths. Come on. Keep the calm. The discussion could lead to Dean but that doesn't mean that he couldn't absorb the beauty of the room or the actuality of the invitation.

Tea with her Majesty.

How many persons managed to be fortunate enough to receive such a privilege?

Mary's gown was a beautiful shade of aquamarine. A color that he detested but adored on her because she wore the piece so well with its short sleeves and white gloves covered in the same color sequins. Even her blonde hair was neatly swept up into her signature look, twisted in place by two gold butterfly clasps that had been a gift from King John on their engagement.

It was remarkable how his wealth of the Royal Family could be tapped into in any situation.

"Do you like London so far? I hope you've been to the Eye."

"I love it," he felt obliged to express his awe. "I've oftentimes been mesmerized by the beauty of it on television. But to see it up close…"

The light in her green eyes was sparkling. "It's one of my favorites. And the chocolate cones that Billy sells by the gate. They're so yummy."

"I actually had two," Castiel shrugged. "Without regret. I intend to go back again soon. Before I leave."

"And I hope that you're not leaving soon," Mary looked saddened by the thought. She rose up, and poured them two cups of tea. "Sugar and milk?"

"Neither, thank you," he was awed by her willingness to step outside of what was expected of the role as a Queen to actually prepare his cup.

"A man who is simple yet oh so complicated," she was smiling, and carefully handed him the cup of fine white china with veins of blue. "Just like John. I have this way of judging people from the way they take their teas. Sam is more of a caffeine junkie. Adam is chai tea with no sugar. And Dean…"

When her eyes rested lightly on him, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Not because it wasn't soft enough. Dear God, it was softer than a cloud. And the armrest was solid oak painted gold. The carpet under his shoes was a beautiful caramel color. But they were eventually introducing the real reason why he was inside her sitting room and the nervousness would not evaporate.

"Well, Dean is all coffee, no sugar. To get him to drink a cup of tea, I have to bribe him with something else. But he takes teas for remedial purposes. Chai, for example is one of his favorites since it's a substitute for coffee. And he also uses honey occasionally."

"And what does that say about his personality?" Castiel was intrigued. As promised by Sam, a sip of the tea was reminiscent of riding into the sunset on a warm afternoon.

"I feel that it means more like…" she was searching the ceiling with a slight smile, "when he wants something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. Regardless of the cost. He doesn't sugar coat anything. He's always truthful."

Castiel was having a hard time not falling prey to reading between the lines. After all, he wasn't too clear on what the purpose of the visit was, but he was quite certain of one thing. The Queen was a smart woman who cared a lot about her sons. Most of all, the Duke of York. And if he was invited here on a Monday evening, then the topic would more than likely be about her favorite.

"Between me and you, I only serve tea because it's polite and expected of me. But if I had my way, you and I would be knocking down a glass or two of whiskey."

He had to laugh and she did too. He liked her already; her honesty. The way she exuberated a sense of warmth and liveliness. But every single time he tried to admire her traits, she reminded him of the one person he was trying to forget.

"Is being a reporter fun?" Mary kept examining his face as if prodding for something more.

"Well it has its ups and downs," he sipped some tea and rested the cup lightly on the saucer. "I've always liked the part where I get to sit down and actually work on the article."

"Instead of going out there and trying to squeeze it out of people of interest," she shared a look of understanding. "You're a great writer, Castiel. I read the article you wrote about Jane Austen's Love Affair. I think that was two years ago. And because I'm a huge fan of Bronte, I found it rather interesting. Especially how you used Jane's life experiences to explain why she might have picked those plots for her stories."

Had she only read it recently or indeed prior? He might never know because he wasn't going to ask.

"I think it's one of the many reasons why my son is so drawn to you," her eyes remained on his face. Her disposition remained cheerful. "He is so obsessed with Austen."

"That much I gathered from what he told me."

"So, the two of you have been talking to each other. That's nice. It means that you're getting to know him and I'm glad because that's why I called you here. Well, apart from showing off my scones and getting to see how handsome you are up close."

The humor in her eyes forced out a chuckle from Castiel but of course, the cold brush of the truth inside of his chest seemed to stifle him.

"Thank you for the compliment. And I'm now anxious to taste those scones," he offered nothing but a smile that felt stiff and quite unbecoming.

Mary leaned back, as if contemplating what to say next. She rested her saucer and teacup on the small table on her right, then their eyes met again. This time though, she wasn't smiling but exhibited a concerned countenance that unsettled him.

"Castiel, I don't know how to say this to you. Or how to put it lightly. But please don't feel as if I'm trying to be deliberately harsh." After taking two seconds to gather herself, Mary sighed.

"Dean is…falling in love with you by the day. You're everything he talks about when he's with me. And I've never seen him so caught up in someone. So, please. If you do not feel the same way about him, then I would like you to have a conversation with him about it. And then I would like you to leave." The look in her eyes was so soft and so saddened from the thought of Castiel doing exactly that. "I am hoping with all my heart right now that the attraction is mutual between you two. For his sake."

Castiel didn't know what to say.

Instead, he sat stiffly in one attitude for a prolonged minute whilst she offered him a scone. Then he nibbled on it and voiced his judgement on the truth in her earlier words about its quality. Mary admitted that the recipe had been passed down from her grandmother.

"You're probably wondering why I'm hoping that you love my son as much as he loves you when he's about to get married," Mary continued, taking another cup of tea. After Castiel declined, she settled into her chair again. "Well, to be honest, I don't even want him to marry Annalise. But we've waited long enough for him to find someone he likes and just when we decided for the third time on someone we thought would suit him, you happened."

Castiel gulped down a mouthful of scone and thanked the heavens that he didn't choke. She was being so direct in her statements that the honesty was refreshing but constipating his mind because he couldn't quite fathom the weight of the implications.

Did she really want him to interrupt a pending marriage?

"You not saying anything is making me feel like I'm scaring the hell out of you."

He actually snorted because the way she spoke was so relaxed like her youngest son, and very American.

"Forgive me, but I'm just trying to digest this wonderful bit of a snack whilst battling silently with my thoughts."

"Of which I hope are good thoughts…"

"I'm beginning to question my judgments. I've spent most of my days in London so far doing a lot of thinking instead of sightseeing."

"That's so tragic," she pouted and relaxed her shoulders.

"Heart and mind, I suppose."

"Forever at war," Mary admitted softly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually not enjoying having this conversation as much as you are." When Castiel laughed, she marveled over his openness. "You know what?" she held out her cup to cheer him, "I like that you're an old soul and I love people who understand that the most amazing things in life come from within."

At the moment though, he wasn't so certain that what resided within him was amazing.

He was still in doubt and even more so over Mary's honest attempts to safeguard her son's heart, which pretty much left Castiel feeling terrible about himself because here was a mother who cared for nothing more than to see her son happy. And there he was, sitting with his mind set on denying his growing feelings.

"Dean has had a terrible childhood," she said after some time had passed by. The light outside had dulled the afternoon a little into a shade of dark orange. "Most of it you probably know already. But the worst part of all is that I think the battle inside his head began with the accident."

Castiel's heart stopped. He stared. "The…accident?"

"You remember when the Bentley crashed in 2006? He was only five."

He could vaguely recall having a tough time with his ex-wife that year. Castiel had taken two months off from work to vacation with Hanna in Canada only to discover that she slept with a guest in the hotel. So, at the time, he wasn't privy to a lot of things that were happening in the world.

"I have to admit that I was away from work for a period of time," he told Mary.

She sighed, acknowledging the unfortunate occurrence. "It was tragic, Castiel. He was on his way to a birthday party and when the car hit a hydrant from swerving away from another car, he came out just fine. He went to the party, had a good time, came home, ate his dinner, went to bed. And then it was like a week after," her eyes were soft with tears as she looked at him, "he started complaining about these awful headaches. When we took him to the doctor, we found out that he was suffering from head trauma."

"I had no idea," Castiel said as his heart sank.

"Neither did we apparently. But he suffers from insomnia, he still gets these headaches and sometimes he…" she hugged herself as if chilled from the thought, "…gets really depressed, it scares me. Anyway," Mary inhaled deeply and tried to smile at Castiel, "if you love him, which I'm sure you do, you'll give him a reason to have hope. And you'll help him see that he deserves to be happy."

She was concealing something else though. That much was given by the way the Queen diverted her attention elsewhere and he wondered what the shadows in her eyes were hiding.

"I have no intention of depriving him of being happy," Castiel said sympathetically. He wasn't about to launch into a proclamation of self-denial on his feelings.

"If not lovers, then friends," Mary said finally, "because God knows he needs someone like you in his life. I would love for us to chat longer but I have this stupid party that I have to attend in Downing Street and I hate parties."

"Well, do what I always do since I hate them too," he rose up and she came towards him for a hug, "find someone who shares an interest with you and latch yourself onto that person for the remainder of the evening." They hugged and Mary was soft in their embrace.

"I'd beg you to become my future son-in-law, but then that would be too rude." She captured his face between her palms and smiled. "Give him a chance, Castiel. He's young. I know that he's young in your eyes. But he's a wonderful young man."

After she rung the bell to signal him leaving the room, Sam was waiting just outside the door. And when the youngest Winchester noticed his friend emerging, he sprang up gleefully.

"Come quick! I want to show you around," Sam rested his hand on Castiel's back encouragingly.

"I feel privileged."

"Don't be so modest. I'm only doing it because you're handsome. But not handsome enough to tempt me", he mocked Dean in an uptight manner.

Castiel chuckled as they rounded a corner and Sam pushed open heavy double doors covered in gold vines. And taking the other man's right hand, he tugged him into a space that was so grand, it couldn't be a sitting room although it contained a set of five sofas. A large plasma television was positioned on the wall and a gaming console rested underneath in a bracket.

"Adam's the video game type," Sam said standing back and smiling at the look on Castiel's face. "I'm more of a Netflix documentaries type. Occasional binge on TV shows."

"These most definitely must be Dean's collection," Castiel ran his fingers lightly over the spines of Disney movies ranging from Snow White to Frozen 2.

"Dude, if he's told you about his obsession over that, then he really must love you. Come," Sam gestured for the other man to follow him.

Castiel was in awe with the Prince's personality, he immediately thought that it wasn't so bad to make a friend in the Royal family. Maybe Sam was treating him in such a way because of his brother doting on Castiel, but it was genuine. And it was guiltily comforting to know that throughout the struggles the situation was presenting, some good could come out of it.

Pushing open another set of double doors, Sam led him down a short hallway that had three identical doors. Each was labelled with three names. But Adam's sign had a large red X across it and the severity was rather amusing to think that either of his brothers had done that.

"Brace yourself," the tall lanky Prince winked, and then he pushed open the one labelled 'Dean'.

When Castiel didn't comply in following him though, Sam was forced to reach out and yank him into the space that was so large, at first, he couldn't take it all in. He couldn't swallow the entirety of walking into a bedroom that was the definition of a bed chamber with a large king size canopy bed.

The curtains were green, the exact shade of Dean's eyes. And the walls…

It was like walking into another world. The walls were covered in a soft blue with twinkling stars and framed on them were pictures of each Disney prince and princess who were ever happily ever married.

In between them over the years though, as he bloomed into a young man with adapted tastes, Dean had added ACDC posters, Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, even Tina Turner.

He had a mini hall of fame over his bed with a poster of Helen Shapiro, The Ronettes, The Supremes, Paul Anka, Prince, the famous Freddie Mercury. But the most beautiful part of it all was the roof that was studded with all shapes of stars and barely glowing yellow in the faint light.

"Told ya," Sam spun around, arms wide open and scoffed. "Obsessed."

"It's…breathtaking," was all Castiel could say.

"Since we were kids, Dean always used to tell me that he wanted to fall in love and then get married like a fairytale. He always was the one who believed in finding love more than marrying for benefits. Which is why," Sam turned to the other man and smiled, "when he said the same thing in front of those cameras outside the Brighton hotel, I knew that something was happening to him. I mean, he's never been in love. All he does is one-night stands. But when he called you Ocean Eyes…"

Castiel was at a loss for words from the entirety of the room and what Sam had contributed, because all of it made enough sense to gather a clearer picture on Dean.

Growing up with these dreams. Trying to find himself through the trauma. It was like the worst battle ever for a child to want something so bad, to be different and then he was constantly told by his father that he couldn't be himself. That he shouldn't be a fairy as the tabloids had reported years ago.

King John went as far as telling the public that he had a son and a daughter before Sam's birth. And Castiel couldn't begin to imagine the hurt and shame Dean must have felt, contained in these walls. It must have felt like a prison so he designed his room as his escape.

He had a large castle in the corner, complete with a drawbridge and foot soldiers. Dean's bookcase was wide and stocked with titles that were very familiar to Castiel. He felt like he was connecting with the other man even without having a conversation with him.

Then there was the sound of soft footsteps on the carpet outside.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my…" the very man Castiel was thinking about strode into the room.

The actuality of having his space trespassed on was tragic enough. But when he fixed his attention on who it was. Those green eyes widened, his lips parted and Dean stumbled on the rest of his sentence.

"I was only showing our VIP guest around," Sam said smartly. "You know, the guest who is about to become family."

But his remarks were left unchecked as Castiel stared back, obviously dumbfounded. Overwhelmed suddenly with a rush of feelings that had been held back by a dam he thought was sturdy enough. Now was bursting forth with so many feelings for Dean, he couldn't even breathe.

And Dean…

He was so astonished to even encounter the other man, on top of that, the fact that Castiel was standing in his bedroom. His happy place. The only part of the goddamn palace that he had been most joyful in whilst growing up and still sought comfort in. Even at the age of twenty-nine.

I am most certainly not attracted to you.

You're a man. Who is…immature and light humored and too reckless.

The two of them blinked away their stares only to enact a prolonged gaze, one that expressed so many truths on Dean's side and so many doubts on Castiel's, that Sam had to clear his throat two times in order to announce that he was still present.

But even then, as Castiel gathered himself and exhaled slowly whilst his eyes flicked away, he still was losing all composure.

Maybe I'm the kind of guy who wants to take the risk and fall in love because I feel that you're worth it.

Thanks for proving to me that I'm not worth it to even someone as attractive and amazing and handsome as you are.

Castiel couldn't believe that he was trying to bury the magnitude of it all. When everything held a weight so heavy that threatened to crumble him with one look at Dean. And then the worst part of it all, possibly the most hurtful part came afterwards.

"I just remembered…I have to…check on something," Dean said in a voice deeply affected by emotions. And after throwing one last glance at his brother, he turned on his heels and left.

When Dean left though, Castiel felt like something inside of him died and if he was in desperate need to convince himself of the actuality of the connection between them, then the pain proved to be the blaring truth.

"No, shit, Dean, wait up!" the younger Winchester pelted out of the room and left Castiel standing there alone.

"In my room? Sam?" when they were out of earshot, Dean rounded on his brother. "Really?"

"Look, I was just showing him around. Stop overreacting." The two of them squared their shoulders but never quite reaching the breaking point consisting of tremendous anger.

"It's embarrassing," Dean's face contorted from his feelings. "The things that I have in there are…everything that I'm not supposed to be."

"But you told him about most of it already," Sam's tone softened. He patted Dean on the shoulder. "He likes it, Dean. He really likes those parts of you. I thought that I could help by making him see how amazing you are."

Dean licked his lips, glanced away frantically and was trying to hold back the tears. "Sam, he's already made it clear that he doesn't feel the same about me."

"Yeah, but he's lying…look, he's probably scared about how he feels. Just because he denied it, it doesn't mean that it's not there. Trust me, I've talked to him and I see the way his face changes. How much he cares."

"I wish you and mom would stop meddling in my life," Dean said in a stiff tone. "Both of you should just leave this alone."

"Oh, right. Because you're going to do this all on your own like you usually do," Sam stepped back.

"I can handle my own damn problems."

"With booze and wild parties?" Sam was direct. "Since when do you ever give up just like that? You're the one who told me that when you first met him, you felt something like you never did before. And you're going to give up on that?"

"Then what do you want me to do?" Dean's eyes filled with tears. "Keep trying to have a conversation with him whilst he shuts me down? Keep trying to get to know him, keep sharing personal things about me with him so that he could hurt me?"

"Dean…"

"I'm willing to run after him as fast as I can. But I really don't think he wants me. And I've asked him to start over but he never replied. So, there's nothing left to do but to move on."

"Oh, I've had just enough of this crap," Sam suddenly said in a frustrated tone. He strode out of the room, and returned a few seconds after, tugging Castiel like a puppet by his right hand. "Listen, I'm going to say this whether the two of you like it or not, okay?" he positioned both of them so that they were facing each other.

"Sam..." Dean warned, his heart racing like a train blasting through the night.

"No, shut up for just a second," Sam's tone was softer now as he squeezed his jaw, appearing pensive. "As an outsider, and more than half of England by now, it's damn obvious that the two of you are attracted to each other. I'm going to go low grade and say that I know so far for sure, that you at least like each other."

"Hardly mutual," Dean muttered, avoiding eye contact with Castiel.

"Now, this is the part that might cause both of you to hate me but thank me later," Sam shot a warning look at his brother who was about to interrupt. "Since the afternoon hasn't faded as yet, I want you two to take a turn around the grounds and talk at least. And if you say no," he stopped Dean who squeaked. "I will definitely get mom involved. And believe me, she will order the guards to make sure that the two of you do it. So, you decide," Sam folded his arms. "Guards or no guards."

For a full minute, Dean and Castiel cautiously allowed their eyes to meet, considered the floor and then looked at each other again. But every time they looked at each other, the anger slowly faded. The actuality of being in the same room, of having that one opportunity to push aside the pain and focus on hope…

Dean was so certain that all good faith died the last time they talked to each other, that being alone in each other's company would be too detrimental to his health. And there was no way that Castiel would comply with such a request.

After all, wasn't he immature and reckless?

Wasn't he too young to be considered as deserving company?

"I'd like that," Castiel said softly, after a while of pondering silently. And when he spoke, he drew the attention of Dean immediately.

The look of utter shock in those green eyes was enough to satisfy the quiver in Castiel's heart.

"You…would?" Dean croaked, already melting and he stared back, blinked slowly and his balled fists released into splayed fingers.

Castiel nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "Yes, if you would like that too."

"I…would. I'd like that. More than anything in the world," Dean's chest heaved. And Sam…

Well, Sam bounced on the spot, spun around and pumped his fists in the air whilst repeatedly shouting 'yes!'

Chapter Text

Why not seize pleasure at once?

How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!

JANE AUSTEN, Emma

After that night when they had collided in the garden at the Westfordshire Palace, something had changed drastically between them.

Castiel felt the magnitude of it like tidal waves as the two of them went down hallways. Quiet. No words spoken. The softness of their footsteps. The whispers of the wind and the doubts overriding anything else that felt comforting.

Dean was everything that Castiel thought he was not though.

The way he opened doors for Castiel was something that touched his heart and drowned the pain. The glances that offered nothing but a soft meekness and an abundance of hanging onto every single second. And as he followed the Prince, he realized that maybe he was living inside a Jane Austen novel.

Dean was light-spirited because of his younger years. But he had the kind of certainty that flashed behind those green eyes when his anger flared. And it was something Castiel couldn't wipe away from his memory.

Back when Sam had made the declaration that they both were attracted to each other, Dean's quick response was to shut it down as a lie. Of course, his underlying belief in the statement lacking honesty was derived from their last conversation, when Castiel had wrongfully voiced his disinclination towards the other man.

Now though, whilst the two of them passed by large windows exposed by parted heavy blue blinds. As they slowly moved through passageways and through doors, he felt the aftermath. He honestly did.

The storm that had gathered inside of Dean, the little ball of fury threatening to unfold into a hurricane because why? Castiel had deprived him of the simplicity of understanding and of being given a chance.

They fell into the same pace beside each other until the softness of the grass was under their shoes.

With his hands hanging down his sides, Castiel glanced at the Prince and wished he could pay to discover his innermost thoughts. The reasons why Dean was biting his tongue during their journey through the castle. He was always so talkative but the absence of a conversation between them was like standing inside a blizzard.

Really and truly. Was it out of anger? Or was Dean afraid to say something? And the more Castiel dwelled on the latter, he felt terrible because he had caused this.

Shouldn't maturity direct him down a better path of letting go of wrongs that had nothing to do with him and picking his own battle to fight?

The two of them kept on the concrete path that led to the gardens and a soft afternoon breeze was chasing butterflies.

The sun had dipped low in the sky. There was just one staff on the grounds fixing a green hose that snaked back to a garden shed. But they were completely alone and very soon, the silence started to eat away at Castiel's heart and mind.

"The scones are wonderful. I had two," he said with a forced smile that began to hurt his face. And when the realization kicked in of how dumb it was to remark on a snack, Castiel's eyes fluttered close.

"Yeah," was all Dean said, considering the ground as their pace slowed.

He smelled wonderful; fresh and dizzying. And Castiel sighed. "Are the fairy lights a permanent fixture? I recall seeing them strung across this arch."

"Huh?" Dean's tone was soft as he immediately gazed at the other man. "Oh, uh," he squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed. "The lights, right. They're just for the parties."

"I liked them. They created quite a nice ambience."

When the Prince didn't respond in turn, Castiel felt like his chest was exploding. Like he was about to lose both lungs from the tension between them, because it was so thick and resting like a heavy cloud around them.

Dean was having an effect on Castiel like no other man had ever achieved. The quick patter of his heart. The tingle in his fingers and knees turning jelly. The way he felt compelled to inch himself a little closer into Dean's space as they walked side by side.

It was new and electric and Castiel realized that if he savored it, instead of trying to drift into combat mode, a light and soft sensation settled on him like being sprinkled with stars and having the sky's velvet wrap around him.

This was what love must really feel like, he wondered to himself. The giddying feeling from racing down a hill on the back of a horse. The adrenaline rushing through your body like a drug, and chasing emotions inside your veins. The way he couldn't even breathe properly and felt like he was going to fly.

"We should head back," Dean said suddenly, his voice wavering. "I'm sure you have better things to do than to waste time with me."

Castiel instantly experienced the tragedy of suffering in agony. They hadn't even stretched a yard away from the backdoor and Dean was ready to withdraw from his company.

"No," his tone was barely audible. They stared at each other, then that deepened gaze was enacted, quite reminiscent of trying to find each other's souls. "I don't want to leave."

Dean blinked slowly, lips parted and his chest heaved from the incredible feeling of being drawn to the other man. And just like that, he turned away, hands still behind his back. "Okay, but I can't imagine why."

"I like your mother," Castiel rushed out, and forced himself to gather composure. "She's very sweet and kind. And we had quite an enjoyable conversation." Of all the ridiculous things to entertain in a conversation, so far he was losing awfully.

"I'm glad to hear that," Dean said with a small smile though. "She's not so bad."

They walked on some more and drew nearer to a beautiful gazebo made of wrought iron, a red shed and flat wooden seats painted black. "Should we…" Dean cleared his throat and jerked his chin at the structure.

"Why not?" Castiel opened his mind and led the way, curious of course by the intricate design. "This is beautiful."

He lightly ran his fingers over the bannister made of polished wood painted red as he ascended the steps. Castiel could feel Dean's gaze drinking up every move that he made. And it was so intoxicating to have someone admire him like that.

"It's actually over 200 years old, I think. My aunt, mom's sister, bought it from a lover she had in France." Dean stayed standing whilst Castiel continued to caress the bannister all the way around the gazebo. "They had to break it down into parts to get it all here. I think it was so beautiful."

"The gazebo or the story?"

Their eyes met and as Castiel drew nearer, Dean swallowed, obviously deeply affected by when they were in close proximity. "Mostly the story. My aunt's lover was a woman. Darla Hopper. Mom used to tell me the story when I was a kid. About…the two of them falling in love and writing love letters to each other."

"Go on," Castiel neatly lowered himself onto the bench, just a foot away from where the other man stood gazing down at him.

His green eyes contained so much depth in a warm shade that Castiel drowned in effortlessly.

"Well, she used to show mom the letters and it was their little secret for a while. They met each other in a parade then pretty much fell in love immediately. I guess you can call it—"

"Love at first sight," Castiel finished in a soft tone, their eyes never leaving each other. And he felt the tug between them. He felt it and he wondered where it would lead if Dean could just touch him.

He could do it without invitation, Castiel thought to himself guiltily. For the last ten minutes whilst they walked towards the gazebo, Dean's eyes had been touching him in so many places that becoming aware of the Prince's bold glances was too much to bear. And if Dean simply extended his right arm, he could reach Castiel effortlessly without trying.

"It's not something that you believe in obviously," green eyes flicked away. "But, that kind of thing runs in my family. My aunts. An uncle before my mom who was King. Adam and Carlie. Sam and Eileen."

For a moment, there was silence between them that was filled with the sound of the wind rushing through the trees. The flowers nodded their heads. The world around them was so peaceful unlike the hurricanes inside of their hearts.

"Why did you lie about Ruby?" Castiel couldn't bury down the bitter taste of not knowing. And when he looked at Dean, the other man was staring at him like a deer in the headlights. "Why did you advise Sam not to encourage her advances?"

"How did you…"

Castiel sighed though and shook his head. "It's none of my business, I've come to terms with that. But she's been my friend for a very long time. And all I've ever understood about her is that she's had a rough childhood and a tainted past. Something you can relate to."

Dean's eyes flashed. And there it was. The anger. "I don't want to talk about my past."

"I'm not asking you to, Dean."

"Then what do you want me to say?" the other man sounded wounded. "That I'm proud of what I did? Because I'm not and I'll never forgive myself. I was twenty-three and back then, I was a fool to even get involved but all I saw was my really amazing brother who deserved nothing but the best kind of girl. Whilst Ruby was wild and seemed like a bad influence."

"Don't you think that your judgments were a bit harsh though? Considering that you possibly couldn't have known her that well?"

"I knew her enough," Dean's tone was flat but his eyes glistened from tears. "For five years Ruby was always included in any hangouts we had because Sam insisted that she was his friend. But then I saw the way she lived life dangerously. And how she kept trying to get Sam to try new things like smoking weed and I couldn't stand it because my brother was never the type to like those things. But he tried them out because she was pressuring him to change. And me as the big brother had to stand there and watch her try to introduce him to her life."

Castiel nodded with a downcast look, and with his fingers laced, he licked his lips. "Completely understandable."

Apparently, it was enough to stun Dean. "Really?" the Prince asked in awe.

Who was he to judge? Castiel thought that the worst kind of mistake was to never understand someone's choices that they had to make.

"You acted just as any sibling would. In fact, as I think about it, my brother Gabriel did the same thing when I was going to marry my ex-wife. He warned me that she was bad news and that she was reckless and wouldn't settle for contentment with someone like me. And he did it because he loves me. Also, he was right."

"So, you don't hate me," Dean said, lowering himself onto the seat beside Castiel. Their thighs were less than an inch apart. And it was almost as if drawing nearer provided the kind of reassurance he needed. "For what I did."

"I could never hate you, Dean." Their eyes met and from the actuality of how close they were alone, Castiel was suffocating. "Hate is too strong a word for me to place an enormous amount of energy on. And I cannot hate you for loving your brother enough to protect him from going astray."

"I didn't want Sam to become like me. I didn't want him to start living on the wild side. To you know…throw his life into booze and nights on the town with a carefree spirit like your friend. And when I think about it now, do you know what the worst part is?"

Castiel hated the hoarse quality in the other man's voice. "What's that?"

Dean swallowed and wouldn't divert his gaze. He was holding onto that connection. "That it feels like karma because they just met one day and fell in love in a second. And if I didn't pull Sam away, he would probably be married to Ruby. And now, here I am, falling for you…" Dean was forced to look away, blinking fast to chase away the tears. "And it feels like I can't have you because you obviously don't want someone like me."

Castiel's eyes clouded with tears. No, please don't make those assumptions. He bit his lips gingerly, forcing himself to focus. To not collapse. "Dean…"

"No, don't," the other man shook his head and with those emerald eyes squeezed shut, he reached up and pinched his forehead. "Don't put another nail in the coffin, Cas. I'm going to try as hard as I can to take whatever you can give me. And if that means being friends, then fine."

Castiel stopped breathing "You want us to be friends?"

"There's nothing else we can be," Dean shrugged, legs spread apart and avoiding eye contact. "I guess this is what they call a compromise."

Castiel, however, was still suffocating. "I never meant the things I said to you the last time we met. You're not reckless or unlikable. I regretted what I said the second those words were out in the open and if I could take all of it back…"

"What would you say to me now then?" Dean tipped his head and studied the ground.

Swallowing hard and trying to push through the haze of emotions inside his mind, Castiel willed himself to remain calm. "The things we have in common make you immensely worthy of knowing. Everything else is just complicated."

"What does that even mean, Cas?" Dean's voice was hoarser when their eyes finally met and his gaze was pleading for the truth.

"It means…that I don't know what to think or feel. And sharing your sentiments, I'm afraid that I will say the wrong things. And then I will make things worse between us."

"Cas…"

"No, Dean, you don't understand. I don't think you ever could. You're so certain of what you want and you're brave enough to express your intentions," Castiel's tone remained softer although he was collapsing inside. "Those are qualities I absolutely admire in you in more ways than you will ever know. But—"

"I really don't want to talk about it right now. It's making my headache worst. I get these terribly headaches when I'm strung out. It happens." Dean suddenly stood up and his movements were deeply affected by how weakened he had become by their conversation.

"You're leaving me?" Castiel couldn't feel his heart anymore. It had probably died from the word 'friends' and then afterwards, from the thought of their conversation being the result of a headache. "I wasn't finished."

"Come with me," Dean sniffed, and dabbed at the corner of his right eye with a knuckle. He couldn't hide his tears and the sight of his weakened composure wounded Castiel so much. "I want to show you my car."

It took a while for him to rise up from the bench though.

He didn't know what had just happened that caused him to become such an undeserving person to Dean… that he was slow to fall into pace with the Prince. And as the two of them walked down the path they had trodden, something else squeezed Castiel's heart.

If he became Dean's friend, then the wedding would be successful. Annalise would evidently become Dean's wife and just the thought of that made him nauseous. Just the thought of not having Dean's eyes follow him, or never being able to share any more conversations with him about the things they had in common.

He had to go back home soon. And when Castiel thought about leaving England, all of a sudden, he stopped because he couldn't understand how love could come on like the flu so suddenly and then wash him over with symptoms so fast. With the lightness in his head, the dizzying feeling, the fast patter of his heart, the weakened knees and absolute desire to be near to Dean.

When they sat in close proximity, Dean was capable of awakening feelings inside of him that were never experience before. Feelings that were new and frightful, of course, but deserving of attention because of the honesty and rawness of discovering a new sense of love.

It had to be love, right?

"You coming or what?" those green eyes turned to blink at him, pleading perhaps for the clarity that was lacking.

Four feet between them became less than twelve inches and when Dean lightly took a hold of his right shoulder, Castiel sighed. And when he did, Dean's immediate response was to remove his touch like a burst of electricity had been transmitted between them.

"You okay? You look pasty. Do you want to sit down?"

"No," shake your head and appear composed. Come on. Get your shit together. You're too old for this. For feeling like a teenager in love. "I'm…fine," Castiel's voice deceived him though, with its gravelly nature that tended to suggest that he was deeply affected by some kind of emotion.

"Sure you don't want something to drink?"

How could he suddenly act so normal?

Castiel was staring at Dean and he couldn't understand why the other man was so certain of himself. That he easily reached out and touched him without showing any kind of emotion or restraint and then, Dean pulled back like he was diseased.

"I don't. Where's the car?"

"It's over there. Not too far. I've got to warn you though, I get very worked up when it comes to my car. She's my most prized possession." Dean's sudden enthusiasm was painful on Castiel, that he followed without uttering another word. "There she is!"

The mood could have probably explained a lot to Castiel after he discovered how Dean adored the Impala. The sleek car that was black and beautiful. Her engine roared to life as the Prince shot him a wide smile. And in that moment, Castiel understood what was happening.

Dean was forcefully latching himself onto a distraction, so that he wouldn't have to fall prey to his feelings. He said he didn't want to talk about it. It being what was going on between them. But all of a sudden, it was all Castiel wanted to talk about.

He wanted Dean to explain to him why he was so special and why he had fallen in love with someone as dorky and nerdy and simple as him.

What did he see when they met each other in the washroom at the hotel? Did he see a man that he was just attracted to and sexually desired?

Or did he really realize how Castiel was an enigma, and complicated and worn from years of distress? Years of being alone and faking his contentment because after finding this new fleeting feeling, Castiel never wanted to go back home.

He wanted to stay, to know that Dean was a stone's throw away somewhere in London that he could absolutely run into him at an event. Or they could remain as they were in that moment; standing desirably close to each other and breathless.

But he couldn't stay, could he? He had to go back home to his apartment that was leased for a year. His job where he earned a steady income. His cat. The many bottles of wine in his cellar and normalcy because anything else was chaotic.

Dean asked him with a wide smile to hop into the car. Then he leaned over and pulled a rolled-up copy of The Daily Mirror from in front of Castiel on the dashboard. And his scent was so soothing and comforting and awakened parts of Castiel that hadn't felt so warm in many years, if ever.

"Now, I've got a wild idea," Dean said as they pulled out of the Palace grounds. "And I know you'll like it. But I'm going to ask because I don't want to freak you out or anything." He turned the wheel smoothly as the gravel crunched under the car. "Remember I told you that I constructed my castle in the likes of Mister Darcy's home from the movie?"

"Chatsworth House," Castiel nodded, squinting his eyes at the scene before them as London opened into streets littered with people. Two security detail followed close behind, dressed in heavy black gear.

"Would you like me to take you there?"

"Right now?" Castiel turned to consider the other man's handsome face as he grinned.

"Do you have anything better to do?"

I just want to be with you. "No."

"So?" Dean's car gained a lot of attention as did the two bikers following them. And as people stopped to consider the Prince passing by, a few of them even waved.

"Take me there," Castiel held his breath, leaned back and hugged himself. And also trying to shield his face from the prodding eyes because he hated to be in the spotlight.

They drove in silence for almost fifteen minutes.

Castiel marked the time because between the seconds were filled with wisps of tension between them. Little wisps that snaked around his body and threatened to drive him crazy from knowing that the actuality of drowning was entirely too pleasing. Especially when he was drowning in his deliberate attraction towards the other man.

Just as the afternoon was fading a little more, the car nosed its way down a narrow road that gradually opened out on both sides by expansive lawns. Lawns that were lush and green and beautiful. Then after the large wrought iron gates slid open, Castiel suddenly sat up and couldn't believe his eyes.

He was so astonished, he gasped from being struck by the beauty of the castle in the distance. It was almost a replica of Chatsworth House but Dean had added four towers that gave the stone structure a shape of a crown. And the fountain was most of all spectacular as the car rounded the expanse of water and Castiel admired the two unicorn shaped stone sculptures.

"The national animal of Scotland," the Prince said proudly as he read the other man's mind. "I've always loved unicorns."

"I'm more wildly fascinated by rabbits, cats and guinea pigs."

"Well, you're just in luck. I have roughly fourteen rabbits and four cats."

Blue eyes turned to stare at the Prince in awe. "Do you really?"

"Yup," Dean smiled when the car pulled up near the entrance. "Remember I told you that I like cats?" he killed the engine and smiled at the other man. "Wait till you meet Nemo, Olaf, Elsa and Jasmine. And don't judge the names." He pointed at Castiel above the car as they got out.

"I'm not going to, it's just…"

Dean waited, admiring the other man's profile as the setting sun touched his hair. "What?"

Castiel exhaled. "It's so much to digest." His gaze swept the lawns, and then the house in all its glory. "Do you really live here, Dean? I can't believe you're actually a…"

"Prince?" That wide grin that was so damn attractive as he folded his arms on the Impala's roof. "I hate my title and what's expected of me. But goddamn it, Cas. I love this…my house. My library. Even the bloody unicorns. And the best part is that I can get to show it to someone who understands the meaning behind it all."

They stood there in silence afterwards as the lanterns flickered on. Electric lanterns that highlighted the roof and inside the windows. Then as the night settled in, the entire lawn was illuminated by floodlights that spotlighted the castle and made it appear even more fairytale-like.

Castiel was ecstatic when they eventually climbed the steps up to the entrance. He smelled fresh flowers and admired the pot marigolds in the window beds. The feel of the cool stone of the bannister leading up to the door. The way Dean kept glancing back at him with that damn sparkle in his eyes.

And then when they finally stepped into the castle, the sight took Castiel's breath away because if it was even remotely possible, Dean's home was more beautiful than Westfordshire Palace. With black and white checkered floors and black wall sconces that were lighted. The four majestic chandeliers tipped with teardrop crystals. And the paintings on the ceiling.

"Ian Waters," Dean followed Castiel's gaze, both their heads upturned. "I found him in Ireland five years ago. Brought him here to do all the ones on the walls and the ceilings."

"The intimacy in the details." Castiel studied every single realistic contour of a man's body on the ceiling, naked and flourishing in a field of roses. "Was he your…lover?" The painter?" Then after realizing how bold the questions were, he felt embarrassed. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be so intrusive."

"No, it's okay." Their eyes met and Dean blinked slowly. "Honestly, for him it was more. For me it wasn't there."

The brush strokes, finest details of a chaotic scene of a group of young men, draped in sheets in the dark, trying to reach for a door that welcomed a beautiful sunshine afternoon.

"If you're asking me if I slept with him, I did." Dean was exactly like his mother had promised; a firm believer of the truth. "I've slept with men and women, Cas. But I was only in love with one."

Castiel studied the shape of the other man's chiseled jaw as they ascended the grand staircase covered in carpeting the color of blood.

"Lisa," he said simply. "High school sweethearts."

"You mean the one year I tried out secondary school. It was so long ago though. We were sixteen and smitten," Dean's fingers played on the white railing as he went upwards before Cas. "She's been married for five years now and has a son. We haven't spoken in years."

"Forgive me if it seems like I'm prying."

"You're not," Dean said softly as they reached the top of the stairs and faced another work of art. This time, it was a beautiful sunrise between mountains. "Ian didn't do this one. I bought it from a street artist in Rome. He didn't want money for it although I begged."

"You have that effect on people," Castiel said with so much warmth inside his chest. He was trailing after a man who was driving him crazy. And yet, his mind warned him to slow down, to stay behind and pace himself. "After all," he found himself saying, "you're the People's Prince."

"You don't feel like that when you're buried inside a pit of blackness, Cas," Dean turned to him and walked backwards as they entered another room. His eyes were darker. "When you feel like you're going to suffocate and die by yourself from a storm that never stops."

"I know a bit of how it feels, Dean. Believe me, I do."

"I can see the cracks inside of you. I guess that's why I'm drawn to you so much." Dean led them through a hallway that was lit by sconces in gold brackets on walls covered in red velvet. "But there are things about me that you don't know along with the rest of the world."

"Tell me about them then," Castiel said as they fell into step again. And when their arms brushed, he felt the warmth on Dean's skin and his chest heaved.

"It's not that easy. It takes time. This way."

Dean pushed open brown oak doors with black iron handles and entered a room that was at first, dimly lit. But then after flipping a few switches, lamps on desks illuminated the interior and the first thing Castiel laid his eyes on was a grand piano made from solid cherry in the center of the room.

The rush of cool wind came into the large windows. The heavy red curtains fluttered. And as Dean danced his fingers across the keys, he created an eerie but beautiful ambience that captivated his guest instantly, not that he wasn't already bewitched.

But as the Prince tried out a tune, frowned then lowered himself onto a stool in front of the piano, the other man approached in awe.

At first, Castiel was simply amazed by the delicate caress of Dean's fingers on the notes, possibly imagining those same fingers caressing any part of him. And then when Dean started to play a song that sounded awfully familiar, Castiel became breathless.

It was Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish.

And whilst he played it, their eyes met and kept meeting after every line and eventually, Castiel was in raptures over Dean's skill; how he could play without a sheet because he was gifted in music and could feel the notes and hear the words and between every note.

So much of Dean's heart emptied out through his gaze, bleeding between the seconds and minutes.

It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done; to serenade him with a song.

The gesture brought tears to Castiel's eyes; tears that felt so warm as his heart felt elated, his mind relaxed and those fleeting thoughts were silenced as there was no room for doubt but only space for one person. And that one person was looking at him like he meant the world.

Like he mattered.

When Dean smiled during the chorus, Castiel chuckled, eyes wet and he held on delicately to the piano, leaning in and knowing that this was what love had to feel like for certain. That light feeling and then that crazy, lightning bolt that streaked across his chest. The butterflies and the warmth like sinking his toes into sand, like waiting for the tide to come in as his nerves were on fire.

He wanted him. Dear God, he did.

Castiel wanted Dean so much, in more ways than just physical and sexual.

He was drawn to him on a level that peeled back his levels and entwined their souls. The kind of attraction that was surreal and dangerous and reminiscent of moonlight nights and bottles of wine. Of gazing into the depths of green and drowning in them.

After a while when he was certain that he was too weak and too exposed, he went towards the window and his fingers lightly touched the blinds. Then as the sound of the piano died down, and the stillness of the night returned, Castiel tried so hard to find fascination and beauty in the fountain spurting up water from the tips of the unicorns' horns.

But he couldn't.

He felt Dean behind him, coming nearer and studying his silhouette, perhaps breathless, Castiel wasn't sure but what he sensed between them was powerful.

They were more than attracted to each other and he couldn't understand why it had taken him so long to know what the depth of love encompassed. What the words in his novels lacked in substance was now being experienced.

"Cas…" Dean croaked.

The skin on his left arm was covered in little dots of electricity that raced through his body because he could always feel Dean first. He remembered during the Ball when they were in close proximity, he sensed Dean nearby before seeking out his location. And Castiel stopped breathing when he suddenly felt Dean's palm on his lower back, just resting there reassuringly as if he was trying to steady him.

Castiel was unsteady, had been his entire life without realizing it until he had collided with Dean. And he was so certain that when Dean touched him, the world felt more vibrant and surreal.

The heat escaping through Dean's pores was sensational and it dizzied Castiel's head when the Prince turned him just a little. But enough so that they were looking into each other's eyes. And Castiel remembered gazing into those eyes and becoming amazed by the swirls of different emerald shades, by the way Dean's thick eyelashes fluttered and his hair.

His hair lightly fell onto his forehead and he lightly touched those soft strands. Castiel couldn't help himself when he lightly caressed the tumble of tendrils swept to the right of Dean's perfect brow, giving him that playful boyish look and yet, he was entirely handsome still, as a young man who was evidently certain of what he wanted.

And then there was no escape.

Dean inched closer and as he did, Castiel didn't retreat. He stayed where he was, drowning and his mind started screaming. And even though he wanted so badly to allow it, to oh so much drown in the first instance of a kiss, Castiel turned his head away.

"Dean, we shouldn't," he said softly, still leaning into the other man's warmth and pressing their cheeks together.

"Don't…think…" Dean's breath kissed his face as he wrapped an arm softly around Castiel and slowly brought their bodies together for the first time. "Just…feel me." He tenderly hugged him, burying his face into Castiel's left shoulder and drowning in the moment.

And Castiel really did feel him.

Every inch that was honestly enough to drive him crazy was so intoxicating because Dean's body was on fire and his heart was racing.

The hug was comforting and yet electric and then Castiel realized the magnitude of how much Dean was sexually drawn to him. And when he felt how hard the other man was in his pants, how on fire he was, Castiel stiffened in his grasp.

"I can't," he said in a voice that was not his own.

The military. King John's wrath. He knew well enough that the Queen's words wouldn't suffice enough to save her son. And Dean would be scarred if they even ended up together; they would be pulled apart as quickly as their first meeting and falling for each other.

But Dean didn't seem to understand the harsh reality that awakened Castiel's mind because he held him tenderly still and just after their eyes locked an intense gaze, the Prince pressed a chaste kiss onto the other man's forehead.

"If you could see yourself in my eyes," he said, his lips moving against Castiel's brow. "You would understand why I'm in love with you. Why I keep falling and I can't stop myself."

Castiel's eyes were closed. And Dean was so goddamn hot and hard between his legs and he could feel himself following suit. But it was becoming too painful because of the many years behind him that lacked this kind of intimacy that he craved for but couldn't have.

"I can't do this. Dean."

He managed just to separate them, even though the feeling of distance was suddenly excruciating and Castiel felt terrible and confused all of a sudden because what he wanted was standing right in front of him.

Dean really looked like he wanted all the things Castiel desired. Like he would be as gentle and patient and kind. Like he knew what he wanted and how he wanted it.

But Castiel couldn't will his mind to soften up to everything so easily. And because he was suddenly seeing clearer through the thick haze of desire, he realized that they were going too fast and if he didn't stop them, then they would crash.

"We shouldn't do this," he said in a voice that was too gravelly. And his hands were shaking. "We need to…stop."

But Dean was falling apart in front of Castiel.

It was the worst sight of all to watch those green eyes lose their sparkle. The Prince, his composure weakening already so much was completely wounded. And it wasn't a beautiful sight, it was tragic to realize that his words could disarm someone

"Is something wrong with me?" Dean plucked the question from the swirling ones in his mind and asked it whilst he was on the precipice.

"What?" Castiel frowned, after stepping back and instantly remembered Mary's words. The low self-esteem. The headaches. The depression. "Of course, nothing is wrong with you. Nothing at all."

But Dean shook his head and remained where he was and there wasn't anger behind his eyes. There were tears, soft tears and he could feel the fall happening but he didn't want it to happen now. Not like this.

"It's me, isn't it? It's my age. I'm too young for you."

"Dean, no," Castiel felt terrible and he wanted to leave, to run, but he couldn't. "You're…not too young. You're amazing and…you're intriguing and beautiful."

"But…" Dean lowered his eyes and bit his lips.

"If you think about this, we can't possibly entertain the idea."

"Because you're not gay."

Castiel inhaled deeply. "Even if I am not and I'm attracted to you…" when he said that, those green eyes latched onto him with so much hope, his heart cried. "There's no way we can be together. First of all, the monarchy would crack from the weight of the disapproval from the people who love you. The people who have grown to respect you. Can you imagine what they would say if you end up with a nerdy American reporter such as myself that has no money, is a divorcee and on top of it all –"

"Just stop," Dean said suddenly, there was a chill in the air. He felt the weight on his chest grow heavier. He was falling and fast. And was just moments ago so elated, so excited and happy, so hopeful. But now, he felt like someone had flipped off a switch in his damn head.

Green eyes turned flat. The two of them were staring at each other as opposed to not so long ago when they couldn't stop drowning in each other's gaze.

"All my life, I have been anything but normal," Dean said. "You know that. You know about my past and what happened to me. Dammit, Cas. I lived through it and so did the entire world because they've always known that I'm the only member of the Royal family that actually gives a shit about showing who he really is –"

"Dean—"

"I've had lovers. Men. When I was with Ian, do you know what they did? They knew me so damn well and who he was to me that they posted a photo of us in the newspaper and captioned it The Prince and the Painter. Why? Because my sexuality doesn't matter to them."

The passion in Dean's disposition was enough to keep Castiel silent. "I really feel something between us, Cas." Dean stopped, his chest shuddered and he squeezed the tears out of his eyes. "But it's clear that you're trying hard because my mother asked you to. And I don't need you to do that."

"Dean," Castiel was choking on his emotions. "That's not why I came here with you. I came here because I wanted to, even before your mother spoke with me, I've wanted to see you. To get to know you."

"Because you're writing an article about me and my wedding," Dean said stiffly, his tone icy. "That's all I am to you, an article. I was right, wasn't I? You're just like the rest of them. All you care about is getting your story. You're using me."

"I'm not!" Castiel said heatedly because he was stunned. "You claim you hold me in high esteem but do you honestly believe that I'm using you? How is that fair?"

"Just…go," Dean said, turning away with his eyes lowered. The silence between them was so damaging. And the Prince's profile was so stiff and tense. "There's a car waiting for you downstairs."

"So, you're going to just make me walk away," Castiel said through tears, "like I mean nothing. Like I'm not worth it anymore to you."

"I can't do this too. I can't chase after someone who doesn't even know who he truly is," Dean said with his back still to the other man. He balled his fists. It was a gesture that wasn't unchecked by Castiel. "When you figure that out, then I'll be here."

"I know what I want. But I'm not to be blamed for what you started by leading me on in the first place. You can't expect me to change my entire self in one week just to give you everything I've worked so damn hard to survive with."

"Well then I'm sorry for leading you on," Dean said bitterly. "And I'm sorry for causing you discomfort." He wanted to stop saying those things, those hurtful things but he couldn't.

"Dean, if you could just…stop being so immature right now and see reason," Castiel's voice was trembling as the two of them looked at each other. "I'm asking you to be patient with me. I'm asking that you let me get to know you."

"And if I give you time, can you honestly guarantee me that you will not break my heart?"

The two of them stared at each other for a long time and in that time, Castiel couldn't even formulate an honest reply because Dean's question drenched him in cold sweat. Facing the truth was like standing in the middle of a highway in the path of a roaring lumber truck, knowing that he was just going to get smashed to pieces.

"I'm leaving in less than a month," he finally found himself saying robotically whilst Dean stared at him. "I have a life in another country. You know this. A job. I've built my life from the ground up and I don't intend to leave it all behind so suddenly. I need time. This is all happening so…fast. And I can't just take a leap without at least thinking this through—"

"I wish I never met you." Dean's face was pasty, his fists balled as he fought the tears. "You've ruined me."

No. Possibly, it was the worst pain Castiel had ever experienced in his life; the actuality of literally feeling for the first time, his heart contained in a grasp that was squeezing and killing him. His emotions bled into the space between them in bold colors.

"Wow," Castiel scoffed, stepped back and he literally felt as if his knees would give out on him. "You're unbelievable. I've ruined you? What about what you've done to me?"

His face contorted from the wave of emotions coursing through his body, from dying inside.

How could someone lift him up and then drop him down so fast? How could someone give up on him just when he thought that he meant something. That he was even thinking like this made Castiel realize how naïve he had been in the first place.

"I'm glad I met you, Dean," he said hoarsely, although it took every ounce of strength to speak. "You've proven to me that love is indeed the most painful feeling of all. At least I'm the adult here. I'm not willing to fly away with wild dreams. I'm thinking rationally for the both of us. Why must I give up my life to be with you when you can't even acknowledge the discomfort you would cause me if I did? This is why I've been hesitant from the beginning. It's because I didn't want you to dig yourself deeper. I didn't want that kind of tragedy for the both of us. And now you're talking to me as if I don't care about you. I care about you. Immensely."

When Dean didn't reply, Castiel stood there and wondered why the other man had suddenly turned his back on him. Maybe he was the problem. Maybe he was thinking inside the box as always instead of reaching out and holding onto the stars.

"Can you look at me?" Castiel asked after some time had passed. "Say something to me at least. I don't want to remember your last words as wishing that you never met me."

But there were no other words. Nothing at all but the silence and the pain and Dean's refusal to turn around and look at him.

"Very well," Castiel finally said after there was a bitter taste in his mouth. "We've just lived through our own Jane Austen novel. And I hope that it's not the end because I don't want to leave you. I don't want our story to end tragically like this. But if you refuse to understand me, to understand that I'm doing this because you're special to me, then there's nothing further for me to do. Good bye."

Dean was so cold.

He was shaking and he was stunned. When he heard the doors open and close with a loud bang, he sunk onto the floor. And he stayed there for a long time whilst the tears anguished him and his migraine grew more severe. And he felt like he was about to die because he had done the most hurtful thing ever. He had said the most hurtful things.

And he wished that he could take it all back.

But he couldn't because Castiel was gone.

Chapter Text

I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.

JANE AUSTEN, Pride and Prejudice

"Have you been taking your medication?" Rowena asked from across the very spacious room with a view of a beautiful garden of flowers. The temperature was entirely cool and should have been comfortable.

She never needed to take notes during their sessions. They had been acquainted for close to twenty years. And even though she had been seeing him for so long, Rowena still needed to retrack, and to make some mental adjustments during every session.

Dean was fidgeting. He crossed and uncrossed his legs five times in ten minutes. "I've been busy."

"That's not an answer, dear."

"No, okay?"

Rowena's raised eyebrows marked her surprise.

This wasn't a simple lapse in his judgment. What she detected from the moment Dean walked into her office was the heavy burden of depression weighing him down. The downcast eyes and sullen looks were not new. She had seen these signs before and knew them all too well.

"Dean, you can't just decide to stop taking your medication. You're quite aware of why they were prescribed to you. And what happens when you don't take them."

Sighing, he hugged himself and appeared like a petulant child. But he didn't really care. Not anymore. Not when the world seemed duller and he felt like he was living in a black and white tragedy.

"I know that you're under a great amount of pressure right now. With the wedding coming up and everything you've told me about not wanting to get married," Rowena was concerned by the pasty look on the Prince's face. "Has something happened?"

When he refused to answer but chose to stare at his boots, she sighed.

They had been seeing each other since he was nine years old. And twenty years after, he still entertained the awful habit of refusing to speak to her until she practically demanded the truth from him.

"Did you talk to Castiel?" she tried and immediately, there was a reaction resembling a tremor.

He flinched. "I don't want to talk about him."

I don't want to remember your last words as wishing that you never met me.

"Dean, this is not the time or place to pack away your feelings. I want to help you fix it," Rowena said in a comforting tone. "Two days ago, you missed our session. You've never missed a session in over five years."

"Yeah, well I'm not a kid anymore and I have things to do."

"Don't be smart with me, boy," Rowena sassed.

It was one of the things Queen Mary had used to determine who would be able handle her son. To get him to open up required someone with a fierce streak who wasn't afraid to push and push until she managed to unearth the truth. And over the years, because of Rowena's guidance, Dean had been able to weather through any storm.

"I met him, okay?" he shrugged, sinking into the chair as if he wanted to be swallowed by it. The memories alone were so painful like vice-like grips tightening around his heart. "I took him to my place and then everything went to hell."

"Tell me what happened," Rowena urged softly. The bangles around her wrists tinkled as she reached for her glass of water. Sipping, her eyes remained on him and she was studied cautiously by green eyes that tried to seek out distrust. "And don't think for one moment that you're leaving here without telling me everything. You know very well that I care about you like you're my own boy."

"I know that. I'll never forget it," Dean said, regretting his behavior. She saved him too many times before in his life. "I feel moody. Irritated. Like I have a fever and I can't shake it off."

"That's because you haven't been taking your medication."

"Yeah, but they make me sleep when I take them," he offered her a strained look, writhing in the chair. "And when I sleep, you know what kind of nightmares I have."

"The car crash. I'm very well aware, yes. But Dean, you have been battling with something that you can not fight off on your own. I know that it is too much but if you take your medication, at least you will feel calmer. Do I have to remind you what being bipolar can lead to? Do you remember when you trashed your father's chambers and was sedated?"

The feeling of losing his ability to do nothing, of slipping into a world where he kept on reliving the blinding lights of the crash. The hydrant spurting water onto the window of the car and the goddamn awful sound of a blaring horn and then he was screaming.

In his nightmares, he wasn't a kid anymore but old enough to know that when he hit the plastic shield between him and the driver, something cracked inside of his head. Something that opened a dam and changed him forever.

"Tell me what happened between you and Castiel," she urged again. "And why you missed our session."

"Whiskey first," he rose up weakly and his footsteps padded softly on her caramel carpeted floors. Retrieving the bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold, he poured a finger, then another, and the feeling of it burning down his throat was soothing.

At least he was feeling something apart from the hysteria inside of his body. The crashing of waves against his skull. The hammering of a migraine that wouldn't fade, because painkillers never worked. And because he couldn't look Rowena in the eyes whilst he related the disturbing tale, when he lost control, he went to her window.

The view was always stunning.

The river Thames with boats tied to the docks below her apartment and men were throwing nets in the midday sun. Their skin sweaty and their hair slicked back. And the smell of fish still seeped through the cracks of the closed window, a scent that reminded him of coming to her office at the age of nine for the first session when he felt like everything was wrong with him.

Dean elaborated on his mother's intervention, about how she always liked to stick her nose in even when he wished that she wouldn't.

Then his brother's suggestion that they take a turn around the gardens, that he and Castiel entertain each other's company. Although he had been dying inside to act against the whole idea and to retreat to his room and stay there until the world ended.

"You didn't want to see him," Rowena said, studying his profile by the window. Dean was evidently filled with so many emotions at that point, she needed to empty them out so that he could start healing again. "Why?"

"Because he didn't answer my text. I asked him if we could start over and he never said anything."

"And it made you feel like he didn't want to start over."

Dean nodded. He collected the tumbler that was resting on the sill and knocked back the last of the whiskey. And then he told her about their conversation under the gazebo. The way Castiel kept looking at him, like he was terribly frightened, like he was afraid of what was happening between them, and of what was going to happen maybe.

"Do you think that he was forcing himself to talk to you?" Rowena fixed her red satin dress neatly over her lap and pursed her lips.

"Yeah, because mom asked him to." Dean shrugged. "And Sam."

"Or maybe…" she sighed. "Because he really wanted to talk to you. You and I know very well that you're the kind of person that never dulls a conversation. You always have many fantastic stories to tell. But perhaps…Castiel was trying because he wanted to."

"If you could see his eyes," Dean stared at her with widened green ones. "Rowena. His eyes were so blue. Electric. They're so…" and stopping himself, he diverted his gaze to the outside world.

"Say it. Go on," she urged him. "Better out than in."

For a full minute, Dean watched the fishermen fight with a net, gathering it up and rolling the mass between the depths of two white boats.

"His eyes are beautiful," he said softly, trying to blink away the memory. "He kept looking at me, asking me questions like he really wanted to have a conversation with me but I was so uneasy about it because I kept, I don't know," Dean shrugged, "remembering how he said that he didn't want me in his life."

"No," Rowena remembered what was revealed to her in their last session. "He never said such a thing. He perhaps revealed that he is not attracted to you sexually but he never said that doesn't want you in his life."

"It means the same thing."

"Dean, it doesn't mean the same thing."

"He said that we're…whatever we are is complicated and he doesn't know what to feel about me. How can he not know what to feel about me?" Dean's eyes pleaded. "I've been telling him exactly how I feel because I can't hold it inside of me. I can't—" His words trailed off and Rowena blinked slowly. "I've never been this crazy over someone. He's like a damn drug that keeps seeping into my skin and messing with my head and I don't know what to do."

The silence that settled afterwards was filled with the possibility of becoming friends with a man he loved more than understanding the reasons why.

"Maybe it was one of my episodes again," Dean said to her. Thinking about taking another shot, he almost did but stayed by the window. "I've been sailing on a high for close to two weeks now. All the partying and booze. And then I met him and flaunted myself in the media, bringing him into it. Now, look where it got me."

Because you stopped taking your medication.

He looked at Rowena and could read the disappointment in her eyes from his refusal to continue the dosage. It was a little over three weeks now since he stopped swallowing down those awful pills.

"Why did you stop, Dean?" she asked the question that was burning inside of her mind. "The medication. It's not really about the nightmares when you sleep. Why did you suddenly decide that it wasn't necessary to arm yourself against the war inside of your head?"

Dean swallowed hard and stared out of the window. "Because I felt like I couldn't fight anymore and I wanted to give up. Those nights riding on that kind of high?" he gave her a wild expression, "When I stopped taking the meds, I was so close to jumping into doing a lot of crazy things and remembering nothing afterwards. And I just wished that I would…" he trailed off, his tone growing softer.

"That is not a decision you've ever made," Rowena said softly, worrying completely now. "You've always wanted to fight this, Dean."

"Yeah, but you reach a point in your life where you just can't take it anymore. I felt empty and worthless and like I'd rather die at the end of a gun because I couldn't keep fighting my mind. It's a battle I can't win."

"And I've always asked you to come to me the moment you reach that point," Rowena softened her gaze. "I don't care what the time is, you call me. I'm going to drop whatever I'm doing to come to you."

Dean sighed. "You keep moving through the motions, you know?" his disposition was deeply affected by the memories. "Waking up every day, putting on a show at public events then hitting the clubs. And in the middle of all of it, I kept seeing everyone fall in love and feel something special and it never happened to me since Lisa. Never. And I thought something was wrong with me."

Rowena blinked slowly, "Dean, nothing is wrong with you."

"I'm not a teenager sitting in front of you, completely clueless about what bipolar disorder is. I know what's wrong with me. And don't look at me like that," Dean pleaded, and his eyes watered. "You have no idea what it's like to keep flatlining, to feel like you're never going to mean anything to anyone."

Biting his lips, he glanced at her bookcase but wasn't really considering the endless volumes trying to dissect the mind.

"Dean, you're not worthless. Castiel doesn't think that you are. In fact, he's been entertaining conversations with you because he wants to get to know you, doesn't he?"

His face contorted as if struggling to pick sense from nonsense. "No, don't…don't do that. Don't turn it around to make it look good when it's bad. He's just pitying me because I'm young and I do all the wrong things and then I met him and now I've screwed it all up."

"How?" she urged in a light tone, dipping the spoon into the cup and stirring her tea slowly.

He told her about what unfolded at his home a week ago, how he was riding on the adrenaline and could feel the rush. The wildness pumping through his veins of knowing that he could do anything. That he was capable of astounding, of romancing anyone he wanted to if he felt like he should and the other person involved was worthy enough. And then when he thought that maybe there was a chance…

"I tried to kiss him," Dean said, arms folded as he remained seated on the window seat. His face was shadowed. "And he turned me down."

"And how did that make you feel?" her voice remained soft although her mind was unsettled.

"At first it was like…sure I know I'm pushing and I'm going too fast," Dean admitted with another shrug. "But it's like I had no control of myself in that moment. It was like surfing on a wave, knowing that you are climbing and the moment you get to the top, you have to fall back down. So, I felt that I was doing something wrong but I couldn't stop because it hasn't been like this with anyone, especially another man."

"Tell me what you feel when you're with him," Rowena got up to make herself another cup of tea. Chamomile was her preference and the conversation was very common to her in patients who were suffering from bipolar depression.

What she was clearly saddened about was Dean's decision to stop his course of medication.

"It's not just sexual. It's so much more than that. I don't think I can explain it."

"Try." She settled down on the chair and followed his form clad in navy blue jeans with a red and black plaid shirt. And she loved him even more for the man he developed into. Withstanding his mental struggles every day, he was always been a wonderful young man, someone who was so loving and inhabited the capability of being completely happy if he could just pace himself with his acquaintances.

"Um." Dean sat on the chair again and blinked at her. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Of course, I do. It has nothing to do with magic." She smiled. "Contrary to popular belief, it does happen. And less often than it should. Relationships built on love at first sight happen faster and stronger than any other kind. And why I'm asking you to describe how you feel when you're with him is because you need to figure out if this is just a whim, in a sense, or it's more long term."

It was a whim because it happened suddenly and then Dean remembered being pulled into a sensation that was surreal.

"When I first met him, I couldn't take my eyes off of him because of how different he seemed to be. He was wearing this…ridiculous t-shirt," Dean's eyes were touched with a smile and then he chuckled. "It said 'I'm Mister Darcy' and you know how I'm literally obsessed with Austen. So, I started studying him. I mean, I'm not going to lie. He is attractive in every sense of the word. He's…so handsome with his wild hair and his tight jeans. And then he always wears these beaded bands on his wrists."

"What kind of bands?" Rowena loved to admire the change on Dean's face. And when he talked about Castiel, she was marveled by how bright and beautiful he bloomed like a butterfly stretching its wings.

"Um, nothing special really. Just two of them. One with black and white beads. And the other one has like four or five colors."

"Chakra beads. It sounds like your Castiel is a believer in diffuser bracelets. Did you smell any kind of fruity scent on him?"

Dean frowned. "Tangerine…I guess? Old Spice. Yummy?"

"A calming oil. Hmm. The white beads could very well be Howlite beads," Rowena smiled at his descriptions. "They're made from a calming, soothing stone that dispels anxiety and stress. And the other bracelet…well, chakras, by definition, are energy points within your body that help to regulate organ function, immune system and emotions. Seven chakras are found throughout your body, from the base of your spine to the crown of your head. Each chakra has its own frequency, energy and color. Maintaining its balance keeps you psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy. So, if he has on these bands, it can more than likely mean that he tends to suffer from depression, anxiety, stress… very tricky mix." She sipped her tea and peered at him over her cup. "He wants to balance his life and anything that upsets that balance will scare him."

"Like me," Dean settled back into the chair and stared at her. A moment ago, he hadn't the faintest idea what a chakra was but now he was equipped with enough knowledge to question Castiel's behavior.

"Well, don't blame yourself for all of it. People who are more in tune with their spiritual selves are more than likely to crave deeper connections with someone else. I've always thought that you are a spiritual person. You always had a problem with connecting with your lovers because they just wanted you in a physical sense. And now you've found someone who obviously wants the same thing your soul craves for. But he is terrified by you because you're very forward. And I can guess that he might be turned on…as you might say…by getting to know you on that same deeper level whilst placing anything sexual on the back burner."

"No wonder he didn't want to kiss me. But I couldn't help it."

"Of course, you couldn't, my dear boy," Rowena smiled at him. "You have needs like everyone else. He's a very handsome one too, like you said. It's only natural for your body to react. Now, tell me what happened afterwards."

When Dean finally ended up talking about what transpired, he leaned back in the chair and hated himself. And the more he opened up about accusing Castiel of using him, of wishing that he never met him, Rowena's face didn't change, but rather, she appeared sympathetic.

"Do you feel like you were getting rather upset too fast? Like you were racing ahead and the things coming out of your mouth weren't what you wanted to say?"

"Yeah. I hate myself."

Rowena frowned. "Dean…"

"I keep thinking that I'm not what he wants because I'm too young. And like he said, I come from a world that he only writes about and they talk about on tv. And I just want to make everything better for him by being with him. By showing him that there is so much more, and that I can take him places and we could have all of it."

"And do you think that he wants that?" Rowena asked softly, the cup resting on the saucer on her lap. "A life away from the life he has built?"

"Had I been a woman, he wouldn't have hesitated."

"Dean, don't say things like that. We've talked about this before. You need to stop putting yourself down just to accommodate everyone else. It's never about making them happy first. It's about your happiness. You have a tendency to spoil anyone you're in a relationship with and shower them so much that they never appreciate in the first place because they really and truly only want you. They need you to put yourself first. They want to get to know you."

He was displaying the symptoms of going through a mixture of manic and depressive episodes and the best way to describe it would be as close to climbing a tree, feeling the excitement of being up there. And then after the branch broke off, after you fell and hurt yourself, you're aching and terrified. You're sad and broken with low self-esteem.

"I love him, Rowena," Dean said in an uneven tone and his eyes lowered. "He's not like the others. With him, he fights me back with the same fire and he…he gets me. He gets the simple things like Jane Austen and the 60s. He doesn't judge me and I don't understand why he doesn't want to let go and just…be with me. I want to risk everything for him."

He was expressive and continued to talk excessively. When Dean was on his medication, he measured his speech. He was calmer and composed.

"This is why I need you to start taking your medication," Rowena said with a frown. "You're thinking too rash. I think you're up and down again and it's getting very dangerous because based on your patterns, Dean, you're always on a high wave for more than two weeks. And anything that tries to pull you down from that height is seen as a threat."

"I know what being bipolar feels like, dammit," his voice was hoarser. "I've lived my entire life with it."

"And when you don't take your medication, you will go back down the path again that leads you to nothing but pain. Just like how you snapped at Castiel."

Dean met her eyes and stared back.

"You should have never told him that you wished you never met him because it isn't the truth. And why did you do it? Because you were on a rush. That's what being bipolar does to your mind. It makes your mind soar and then just like that, you're very sad again in the same moment. You could feel like you're not worth it, like you're being hated when you're not. Dean, don't cry."

Rowena rose up, crossed the room and held out her hands to him. He took it, and rising to meet her in an embrace, Dean cried softly in her right shoulder.

She hugged him tenderly because he was fragile in that moment. Very fragile, Rowena didn't believe that anyone else in his family could understand what Dean was experiencing.

It was one of the saddest parts of her job; to shelter a young man who was broken and was trying to fix himself when he shouldn't be alone. When his mind was controlling him and the only way he could regain that control was to rely on pills. And after treating him for twenty years, she kept thinking that she could develop the perfect combination but Dean's condition changed constantly, it was rather impossible to ever prescribe something that would completely settle him.

"Start taking your medication again," she stroked his hair lightly. "You have to promise me that you will."

"I tried calling him," Dean croaked. "Left him messages. Texts. He never responded to any. I fucked up."

"No, you didn't." She hugged him tighter and it was evident that he didn't want to let go. "I think he is giving you time to breathe. You mustn't think that everyone is against you, my dear boy. There are some people who will love you and some who will not. And you will know the good ones from the bad ones. I think Castiel is a good one. But you need to give him time. He will come around."

For two days after resuming his pills, and after Rowena added another one to the pile of four, two times per day, Dean slept through the nights.

He didn't dream but immediately sank into a pit of blackness and rose in the morning feeling calmer and level, almost as if all the tension and the irritation and the doubts were slowing draining from his body. Like he was detoxing himself.

And then the letters started coming in.

At first, there were only two or three per day but then Dean was receiving a little over forty a week. Most of them asking after his health, reporters wishing that he was well and others reminding him that he was loved.

But during the week prior to him resuming his medication, he did at least done two admirable but reckless deeds.

Dean wrote two hefty cheques. The first being a considerable amount donated towards the AIDS fund that his best friend Benny sought help from. And the second one to the Children's Hospital, after selling five of his cars because the material things in live were mattering less to him the more he thought about them.

Every time he did something good, he felt good about himself.

The very next day, the entire country and world lit up with the news.

His father appeared in the library at Westfordshire Palace one evening when it was raining. And when their eyes met, Dean sat up as stiff as a poker and immediately returned to that small boy who was always angry and terrified by a man who didn't love him.

"Well done, son," John smiled stiffly as though the very effort was making him constipated. "What you did, your donation to the hospital was a good sign that you are finally on the road to maturity."

Right. Dean inwardly shook his head and sighed. He stared at the wall in front of him and thought of nothing more than forever being considered as the broken mistake in John's eyes. "Thank you."

"And selling those cars was a good move. You don't need all of that trash sitting in your garage. In fact, whilst you're at it, you should get rid of all those fairytale portraits and sculptures in your castle. It's not becoming for a man. Sell them and use the money wisely."

He said nothing. Dean sat there and felt a sense of calm that was covering his body like a mist.

"I'm glad you stopped the wild horse play at these clubs," John moved to a shelf and plucked a book out. He considered the cover. "Also, this disgusting news I've been privy to…involving a reporter. A Castiel Novak."

When his father said that particular name, Dean immediately felt a streak of pain within his chest. "It's nothing to worry about", he said stiffly.

"Good. Because I will never allow any son of mine to disgrace this family by fornicating with another man. It is scornful. And if I ever hear about this again, I will not hesitate to intervene."

"The military," Dean said sourly, glaring at his father who appeared contented by his son's reaction. "Sending me away because you've always wanted to. Because you can't stand the sight of me. You know what, dad? This is why I've always hated being a part of this family. It's because you've never been proud of me. You never understood the things I suffer from."

"The door is always open when you're ready to leave," John said without smiling. "The problem with you is that you cannot man up and take control of yourself like your brothers do. You've always been messed up in the head because of these fairytales. They've turned you into a Princess. And I will not entertain the thought."

"Why does he upset you so much?" Dean asked bitterly, snapping his book close. "Huh? I've been with men before. Men that did paintings for you, that work in Parliament and come into meetings with you and you still do business with them. Why does this one reporter upset the hell out of you?"

"Because from what I've heard, you have feelings for this man. You claim to have fallen in love with this…person. The rest that came before him never even tormented you as he does. And I will prevent it from happening if it is the last thing I do."

"Then you'll be happy to know that I took care of that without your help," Dean stood up and was on his way out of the room when he was snatched by the back of his shirt.

John whipped him around like a rag doll, and the two of them faced each other, breathing hard.

"You listen to me, and listen to me good, boy. Parliament is arguing about Adam's claim to the throne because of this babbling nonsense about infidelity. But if he has to step down, and you continue with this behavior, I will personally see to it that you're removed from being next in line, do you hear me?"

"I don't want it," Dean seethed, his eyes flaring. "I never wanted any of this. I don't care about a damn crown on my head. And besides, why would you even consider me as an option when I've always been nothing but a daughter to you?"

"You disgrace me," John shoved him away and squared his shoulders. "You're lucky that your mother favors you or else I would have buried you in a military camp somewhere in the middle east years ago. You wouldn't have no choice but to grow up and become a man."

"I hate you," Dean said through tears, although he fought to hold them back. His heart was racing and he wanted to do anything, to throw punches, to fight. But he couldn't because something inside of him was holding him back.

"I didn't ask for sons to love me," John said moving to the door. "And I sure as hell didn't ask for a daughter."

And sinking into the chair by the window afterwards, Dean listened to the rain and he stared through the haze of it, feeling cold, and stunned.

Until the door groaned open and there was the sound of clipped steps of someone entering the library again. This time though, it wasn't his father returning. John's footfalls were heavier.

"The man is an ass to speak to you like that," Adam said, scowling as he came over and perched on the edge of the desk next to Dean. "I was outside. I heard every word."

The younger Winchester sighed, diverted his eyes and wished that he could just be left alone to read his damn book.

"Listen to me, Dean," Adam's tone was sterner. Ducking his head, he tried to meet his brother's eyes. "And listen to me good. I might not always be here for you, but I will not let anyone make you feel as if you're not worth it."

Dean was staring, wondering what brought on the change. And maybe he was being selfish for wishing that his brother would not intervene in his life.

But he had to admit one thing. Over the years whenever he was hospitalized or was ever sick, Adam and Sam always pooled their allowances to buy him anything that would make him happy again.

He remembered the shitload of candy and the toy cars. The bouncy castle they secretly blew up when he was restricted to dwelling inside the castle because of his manic episodes. And whenever he was angry, Adam would pull out two pairs of boxing gloves and challenge Dean to beat the crap out of him until he felt better.

"You are a fighter," Adam said to him in a level tone. "Always remember that. None of us will ever understand the war you're fighting inside your head. But Mom, Sam and I…we will always be here to help you fight it. And…" he lifted his brother's chin up so that those green eyes could meet his, "I just want you to know, bro. That I will love you no matter who you end up with."

Dean sighed, nodded and felt so much better. "Thanks. I needed that."

"I'm not going to ask what happened between you and the reporter," Adam said without smiling. "You just need to follow your heart and if you give him your everything and he still doesn't want you, then my bro, know that you're too awesome to be anything but the best. And walk away."

"I can't."

"Then…" Adam flicked his nose playfully, "don't. Get him like you chase after anything else you want, you dumbass." He laughed. "Out of all three of us, you stole the damn good looks. There's no way anyone would turn you down so, stop sulking. Have you texted him? Called?"

"Yup."

"And?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing."

"Hmm," Adam was knocking around his thoughts. "Have you told him about how hard it is for you because of your magic?"

"Man, come on," Dean actually laughed and stared incredulously at his brother. "You're really going to call it magic after all these years? We were kids."

His brothers came up with the idea of referring to his bipolar disorder as a result from not being able to use his magic. Meaning that because he was suppressing his powers, he suffered from terrible ups and downs. And it could have stemmed from their mother trying her best to get her sons to understand what was happening to their brother. But he never found out if she was behind it.

"You're a wizard. Whilst the rest of us are muggles." Adam seldom laughed but he did afterwards and it was so refreshing for Dean to see the light in his brother's eyes.

"No, I haven't told him. I don't want to use it as an excuse for my behavior."

"It's not an excuse. If you love him and he loves you, he has a right to know about that part of you. It would explain a lot. And you can't keep it a secret until it ends up ruining your moment someday."

Which it already did because he was stupid enough to stop using his medication.

For a long time after Adam left, Dean sat, curled up in a heap on the floor of the library.

Whilst it rained outside and the drops hammered onto the window beside him, a place that he used to come to many times when he was smaller, Dean softly cried from the memories. When he gazed out at the palace grounds, he remembered how he always imagined the kind of freedom only young boys do when they felt caged in.

Running away, and living in another country. Having another father. Leaving on a horse and never coming back.

He pulled out his mobile and tears wet the screen but he couldn't stop himself from going into his messages. Dean kept scrolling and reading them over and over again, wondering more than ever where Castiel was and if he was still in London.

Had he left?

Was he sleeping with someone else right then?

Who was the lucky woman? And he hated that he felt so damn calm so fast as the medication kicked into overdrive.

I'm so sorry for the things I said to you.

I didn't mean it when I said I wished we never met. I felt like a fool.

Cas, are you getting my messages? I miss you. I can't do this.

It's hard for me to say those 3 words when I know that you don't want to hear them from someone like me because I screwed up everything. I shouldn't have let you go. I should have let you come to me, and give me as much as you could give me.

Can we be friends? It hurts to think of you as a friend but if I can have you as a friend, then I will treasure that.

Now though, Dean tapped the bottom of the screen in the text box and although Rowena warned against it, to give it time, he started typing.

I've acted so stupid and so full of pride and arrogance, exactly like Mister Darcy. It shocks me when I think back of how bold I was with you, Cas. I wanted to push you into something that scares you. And I'm a hypocrite for wanting to pluck you out of your life to live in mine. Why must you leave your life because of me?

Cas, I suffer from Bipolar Disorder. I'm not using it to pardon what I did to you. But when I was with you that night, I was riding on a high. I stopped using my medication and I was chasing the way I feel about you recklessly and I wanted you to feel the same way too.

I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life. So, when you hit me with the truth, the consequences, I didn't want to face it. And just like I've done with everyone else in my life, I tried to push you away.

I am so sorry that I acted the way I did and I let you go. I'm pumping myself with these pills everyday that numbs me to a point where I end up sleeping for more than twelve hours. And the rest of the day I spend reading a lot about history because any kind of fiction reminds me of us.

This is not easy for me, Cas. The ones before you were never more than flings. But you mean so much to me that when I think of you or I hear someone say your name, I am reduced to something so soft, my father refers to it as unmanly.

Can you please let me know that you're okay? Where are you? I will keep on trying day by day to get over you. It might take me years or a lifetime, but I'm willing to try because I'm trying to put my happiness first. And if I can't find happiness in myself that I can't make anyone else happy.

Best wishes.

He clicked SEND and settled into the chair and then for the first time in many years, Dean didn't rush to undo what he had done. He felt contented with his message. There was that damn calm feeling again, almost like he was sedated and his feelings were covered down in a pot and left to sizzle.

Never before did Dean ever tried to explain his mind's downfalls to anyone he was attracted to because the efforts were never substantial in the first place. If lovers like Ian craved anything else than sex, it was always the gifts and never the time to sit down and understand how chaotic his mind could become.

But with Castiel he felt compelled to at least try to make the effort of introducing the topic.

When his phone beeped, Dean's eyes blinked at the view outside the window. Then he unlocked the mobile and his heart leapt from the one new message flashing on the screen.

It was from Castiel.

I'm not ok. Nowhere of import. Been reading all your msgs but can't reply. This is hard for me as it is for you. Thank you for explaining what happened. Bipolar disorder is a terrible battle to fight alone. PLEASE TAKE YOUR MEDS. I care about you and always will. You have a supportive family. Please stop hating yourself. You are not unmanly because you have feelings. You are even more amazing because you do.

Dean was smiling, his tongue tucked between his teeth when he happened upon the last bit of the text. Cas…had actually replied…to him. He thought that he was amazing. He cared and always would. He hadn't given up on him. Not really.

Rowena had been right as she always was.

Cas was giving him a break. Both of them. And the worst part of it all was knowing that Cas wasn't okay, that both of them were going through this differently. Whether Cas felt the same about him or not, it didn't matter at that point. What mattered was that he was slowly beginning to find happiness and calm again and that was the most important achievement.

Thank you. I care about you and always will too. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?

Cas replied an hour after, just when Dean was tucking himself into bed. He switched off the lamp, and surrounded by fairytales in his childhood room, he sighed after reading the message.

No. Do what is best for you. I can take care of myself. Good night.

He stared at the message for a long time without feeling anything.

Good night, my Mister Darcy.

Even when he already sent the text and stared at the boldness, Dean still didn't regret the honesty. Then as the rain pelted onto the roof and the windows, as the world outside was flooded with a white haze, Dean turned on his side and stared at the portrait of Beauty and the Beast. And he spent a long time reconsidering the meaning behind the story.

He fell asleep thinking honestly that he was like the beast, cursed by his depression and a disorder that was his enemy.

Cas, was obviously Belle, frightened by what he was, never seeing the possibility of them ever ending up together. And when Dean thought about how the beast was cured, he ended up wetting his pillow with tears.

Chapter Text

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; --it is disposition alone.

Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.

JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility

“The finest cottage in all its glory,” Castiel remarked with a forced smile. He had been faking all of his smiles for more than three weeks now. “How does that sound?” he considered Ruby’s smirk. “Too British?”

“It sounds like you’re having a mental breakdown.”

“Sweetheart, don’t talk to your friend like that,” Ruby’s aunt scolded, bringing chocolate chip cookies into the living room.

They were far from London, somewhere in East Anglia and had been for a week now, but it wasn’t his decision.

His friend who was now smirking at him from across the room, came up with the brilliant idea of dragging his ass away from the chaos that was threatening to fuck him up real good. And not a day went by without her repeatedly trying to cheer up.

Castiel figured that at some point they would have to face reality; that almost a month had gone by since he last saw Dean.

A little over two weeks since Dean admitted that he was struggling from bipolar disorder.

One hour since Castiel last checked his phone for new messages (those stopped two weeks ago). And a second since he last thought of those beautiful green eyes.

So, because he wasn’t anywhere close to riding out this tragic wave of being in love, holing up in the countryside was not going to help. Not even the abundance of rabbits or the fluffy cats that slept on his lap. Not even the actuality of sitting outdoors and reading a novel whilst occasionally gazing into the grassy lowlands as the breeze caressed the weeds.

“I swear she has a crush on you,” Ruby hissed when her aunt sauntered out of the room. “She’s seventy-nine and she still has game.”

“In what sense?” he peered at her from above the newspaper.

“Dude, she eyes your ass like any chance she gets. Plus, she can’t stop staring at your crotch. I bet she baked you these cookies just to watch you eat them. To see how your lips work.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he yanked off his black frame spectacles and scowled. “Am I to always be a sex symbol to you?”

“Not my fault I have a horny granny aunt.”

“Good God,” Castiel snapped up the newspapers and continued reading. Ruby’s snicker caught his ear but he still refused to look at her again.

The breeze was refreshing on a warm summer’s day, coming through the window and caressing the wind chimes. The view was astounding from the window he liked to sit by. All of it was so tempting to become lost in. If he tried, he just might be able to forget the heartache that was threatening to kill him.

But he didn’t want to forget.

Castiel discovered, that after trying to suppress those awful feelings, he was most happy when savoring them.

When he sat down almost every day and remembered how they almost kissed; the soft feel of those lips resting on his forehead. Occasionally, he would press his index finger just between his eyebrows and it was almost like he could still feel Dean on his skin. He could smell him; that faint Irish Spring scent intermingled with a fruity shampoo.

Dean’s aftershave was definitely Midnight & Two ‘The Study’.

How was he familiar with such a product?

Castiel only needed to ask Ruby, who possessed a wealth of knowledge on the three musketeers: Adam, Dean and Sam. And after her little tip, he desperately went in search of it, discovering that a shop in London stocked the same brand.

Dear god, he should have bought a bottle, just to keep that scent nearby. Sandalwood, vetiver and lavender. Most of all though, his memories of that moment were kept alive by constantly reliving the feel of their embrace. And at nights, when he was snuggled in bed, Castiel thought of other things about Dean too.

Things that were too much to forget like the softness of the skin on his arms when Castiel held onto him by the window. The sense of security and comfort that washed over his mind when Dean held him so close. And Castiel had never been so close to a man and so conscious of those little details.

But above everything else now, he kept remembering how hard Dean was inside his pants. So hard and so hot and real.

When he thought of how the other man was definitely so attracted to him that he reacted in such a way, Castiel felt an indefinite sense of warmth because no one in his life managed to ever put all the things together just the right way to make him feel so special.

To make him feel so loved.

And after almost a month, Castiel still wanted Dean so much, that he started to crave him sexually as well. And he thanked the heavens that Ruby’s aunt tucked him up in a room by himself or else the results of his dreams would have entertained Ruby a little too much, and would have sent her into a frenzy had she seen what thinking of Dean did to him; writhing and touching himself like a sex deprived demon.

“Psst!” he felt something hit his forehead. “Let’s go skinny dipping.”

“I’d rather stick needles in my eyes,” Castiel said in his gravelly voice, “than peel my clothes off and hop into a stream with you.”

Ruby pouted, folded into the chair and groaned. “You’re no fun. If that’s what forty turns you into, I want to stay thirty-six forever.”

“Says the woman who humped a tree yesterday after watching a dashing farmer ride by on a stallion.”

“I was bored,” she whined like a child. “I have needs.”

And thus the bickering continued as always, each and every day until the afternoon turned into a silent and dead night, until the world outside grew black as ink and the cottage colder.

The day after, something quite unsettling occurred that perhaps would remain in Castiel’s memories forever.

As he was sitting down, ready to tune into a radio station that played a beautiful selection of 60s and 70s songs, there was the sound of a vehicle approaching, maybe two judging from the abundance of lights through the pink blinds.

Ruby had left to help an old woman not too far away since she was down with the flu. And her aunt was in the kitchen preparing supper and humming to herself.

So, naturally, on the first three knocks, Castiel was deprived of having to answer a door that wasn’t his when the old woman energetically rushed to it.

He heard voices, that was all. The wall that separated the living room from the hall by the door was a blessing most times because it was made of eighty percent glass. And if it was one thing he despised was a lack of privacy because the damn kids around the area were very nosy.

“This way,” he heard Ruby’s aunt ushering someone into the room. “He’s right in here. Whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I can’t believe it. I am honored to have the King in my house.”

The…what?

Immediately snapping a copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’ close, Castiel sprang up by reflex. And was just in time to witness no other than King John buried inside a coat of white fur and blue velvet coming into the living room.

He moved with purpose, his eyes were hard and instantly sought out Castiel who was simply clad in a black jersey with the words ‘Angel’ in white bold print and faded blue jeans. His feet were bare though and the concrete floor felt cold as the King came up and squared his shoulders.

“So, we finally meet,” John didn’t offer a hand, as he never would. But chose to scrutinize what seemed like his opponent from head to toe. “Castiel Novak.”

“To what do I owe this honor?” his mind was racing, his heart too and Castiel soon realized that John perhaps managed to pick the one son who resembled him the most to detest.

“There is no honor in my visit. I was nearby and I happened to fall upon the news that you were in the vicinity. So, naturally, I gravitated towards the opportunity of coming here to tell you a few things.”

“Very well.”

“Stay away from my son,” John said immediately, his eyes burning a thousand fires.

Castiel, of course, was so stunned, he stepped back. “To whom are you referring to?” And he asked the question because the one person he was thinking about, they hadn’t crossed paths in weeks.

“Stop playing smart with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about,” John held his ground. “Stop interfering with Dean’s mind. Turning him into a pansy, a young woman instead of a man. I want you to consider this as a warning that you should leave him the hell alone. He’s whisked himself off to Scotland to disappear in one of his phases because of you.”

Nothing caused him greater distress than being on the receiving end of utter disrespect when it was not needed and ridiculous to begin with.

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly,” Castiel was never the type that faltered under such power, “you wasted your time coming all the way over here. Just to threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you,” John said although his tone was reflective of the same. “I’m asking you to do what’s best for him.”

“And you know what’s best…” Castiel couldn’t believe it. “For Dean. You know what makes him happy. When you’ve basically wounded him all his life. You’ve never had his best interests in mind.”

“I don’t need a lecture from someone like you. Someone who chooses to lie in bed with another man. It is distasteful to say the least. Your sort.”

“Christ! This is exactly like Catherine and Lizzie. I don’t need to stand here and listen to this,” Castiel shook his head, could feel his temper flaring and he began to leave. “Good bye.”

“If the two of you ever end up together,” John said bitterly, his voice rising, “if Dean ends up in a relationship with you, I will personally see to it that his incentives from the Royal Family are all taken away. I will take away his castles, his cars, his passport. And I will hide him in the toughest military camp I can find so that you will not find him. Do you understand me?”

Castiel didn’t realize he was trembling, that he was biting back the tears until his vision clouded and he had to fight, literally battle with his emotions to gain composure.

“I have no intentions,” he said in a stiff voice, “of interfering with your son if it means that your wrath will destroy him. I am perfectly fine with staying away, just to ensure that he still gets to live the life he does.”

“Good,” John nodded. “You’re smart. The next time you see him, end it forever or else I will end if for you. Most of all him. You see, he has this brain disease that lessens his worth of a man. I would hate for something to happen that would push him over the edge.”

Castiel was so astonished by the suggestive words of driving Dean to suicide, he instantly grew angrier by the second.

He couldn’t care less about being disrespectful when he was completely disrespected in the first place. “What you’re doing is unjust. It is unfair to deprive your son the right to be with whomever he chooses. He never had an easy life. And your interference, your hatred towards him has never helped him along the way. In fact, he constantly acts out in the hopes of angering you.”

“You have no right talking to me like that!” John bellowed.

“I have every right to say what the hell I want to say. The last time I checked, I am an American and where we come from, we have more than enough freedom of expression. And you can threaten me all you want, you can try to do whatever the hell you want. But you have no power over me. I am not a child. And I will not be spoken to like I’m one.”

“Get out of my house!” Ruby’s aunt suddenly said in such a stern tone, both of them startled from her entrance. “God dammit. No one comes into my house, not even the bloody King and threatens anyone in here. You need to leave.”

After spending a full minute trying to burn holes into Castiel with his eyes, King John finally left with a flip of his coat.  By then, Castiel was trembling like a leaf from the wrath, from John’s blatant threats and the actuality of depriving his own son what he was entitled to.

Taking away everything Dean was privy to latching himself onto? The act alone would drive the Prince into a destructive state that Castiel didn’t want at all. And because he was caught on the precipice of making an awfully painful decision to either walk away or aid in the process of destroying the life of the man he loved the most, he almost fainted.

“Oh, sweety,” Margaret rushed towards him. She wrapped Castiel into a hug and he distinctly remember the smell of sugar and spices. “Don’t you pay any attention to that twat. He deserves nothing but a good thrashing for what he just said to you.” She held him at arms’ length and frowned. “Oh, you poor thing you. Sit down and let aunty Marge get you a warm cuppa.”

When Ruby returned, exhausted and beaten, she was greeted by the two of them seated before the fire.

The radio was turned down low and Castiel’s face was nothing but pleasant. In fact, he looked so wounded, the last time she saw him in that disposition was when he tumbled into her apartment after leaving Dean’s castle that night.

He ended up being a complete mess and spending the entire night crying into her arms over the pain of love, broken into a million pieces. His heart still couldn’t heal and might never heal because she wasn’t stupid.

She knew that he was holding on to that fleeting feeling still and he was still hopeful. But she allowed him because when Castiel was thinking about Dean, he was so happy and soft. And when she tried to demand that he didn’t think about it, her Cassie Cas became a soppy heap of tears.

“I have never,” her aunt began, resting down her cup of tea immediately and staring at Ruby, “been privy to such disrespect. The nerve of him.”

“Who?” Ruby pulled off her leather jacket and went to sit next to Castiel.

“The King!”

“Was he on the radio?”

“He was here!” Aunt Marge cried. “In my house. God knows if I had a gun,” she said this to the man sitting across the room, “I would have put a bullet in him and buried him in the sewer pit.”

“What the hell happened?” Ruby searched Castiel’s face, and he shook his head, still appearing completely troubled.

After the two of them briefed her on the exchange of words, she rose up. With her fists balled, Ruby paced the floor then strode into the kitchen. From there, the two of them heard her punching her fists into the straw bag where her aunt kept the potatoes. And when she returned, her eyes were dark and dangerous.

“The King is a piece of shit that needs to fucking die. Because it’s the only way Dean will be free. He keeps setting him up with these women. Like he’s auctioning him off at the highest price or something. I’m surprised that he has the capacity to love,” Ruby sighed. She threw a glance at Castiel who remained silent all along and was staring at the floor.

“Poor love is smitten,” aunt Marge jerked her chin at the man across the room. “Look at him. He wants nothing but to give Dean all the love he deserves. Don’t you, dear?”

“If I could, I would,” Castiel said hoarsely. He sighed. “But honestly, time will tell. That’s all I can do at this point. I cannot trifle with those threats and the fear of what would happen to Dean if I even think about pursuing anything with him.”

Ruby sighed. “Time will tell. So what? You’ll give it up? Because you can’t.”

Castiel sat there and stared out the window.

“Look, you need to fight for what makes you happy!” Ruby exclaimed eventually. “Since when do you give a fuck about what anyone asks you to do?”

“Since I don’t want the man I love to end up…dead?” Castiel’s eyes filled with tears and he refused to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” Ruby said softly, whilst her aunt sent over a warning look. “Okay, so cool, I get that. But you can move here. You can be close to him and be there when he needs you.”

“I can’t do that,” Castiel said stiffly.

Aunt Marge frowned. “Dear, why?”

“He doesn’t want to even give up his condo in New York to come live in London with me,” Ruby said to her aunt. “He loves this place. Believe me he does. Plus, there’s an office right over here for the Daily Scandal. But he can’t leave his damn cat to come here.”

“Oh, love,” aunt Marge leaned forward and frowned at him. “You can easily transport the kitty in a carrier. If there is one thing I’ve learned in life, Castiel, is that I know when someone is pining for someone else. The best thing is that you always have to follow your heart. It may lead you into making hard decisions. But the hardest decisions are the best decisions.”

“I understand,” Castiel said quietly, trying to swallow down the painful words she offered to him. “Whiskers would adore London.”

“Do you love him?” aunt Marge asked in earnest when the fire in the hearth was low. “Dean. Do you love him?”

With Ruby by his side though, after all the time she spent trying to help him get over the Prince, he was hesitant to answer. But then when their eyes met and he discovered that she was softly looking at him, as if desiring that he answered truthfully, he inhaled deeply.

“With all my heart,” he said in an unsteady voice, then swallowing hard, Castiel sat back, folded his arms and stared out the window. “It happened so…fast. One minute I was chasing a story and the next minute…”

“You were being chased by the topic of your story,” Ruby said smiling. “And along the way, you fell in love. I’m not angry,” she touched his arm. “All I want is the best for you. But if it’s hurting you, I want you to let it go.”

“What nonsense are you telling the young man?” aunt Marge asked crossly. “Love, if it hurts you, then let it consume you until there is no more hurt. And if the love comes back, then you’ll know what decision you need to make.”

The three of them sat without talking afterwards, listening to the radio playing the soft tunes of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. Then as Castiel gazed out of the window, he wondered what Dean was doing. If he was in bed. If he still couldn’t sleep. And the more he thought about him, he longed for him.

Castiel was on the brink of letting go and swan-diving all at the same time. And he was caught in between two terrors that were unjust and painful.

On one side, there was an empty life of returning to New York and fitting into a world without sunshine. A world where everything reverted to normal and normal was boring. But drifting to that side would be painful and would possibly kill him inside until he couldn’t recognize his face in the mirror. And what would become of Dean? He would be alive and away from the military and any kind of harm.

Then there was the most beautiful life in London he could snatch up like a blade between his fingers, falling into Dean’s arms and loving him in fear. Regardless of the pain their attachment would bring and the obvious threats from John. And because he was standing between these two places, Castiel needed a rainbow.

“I’ll be right back,” he excused himself as Ruby perused the newspaper and aunt Marge nodded off.

Then after going into the room and locking the door, Castiel pulled out his phone.

Maybe he was influenced by aunt Marge’s words. Maybe he was just dying inside to hear his voice but without second guessing it, Castiel tapped on Prince and dialed the number and after three rings, he was about to let go when the line was picked up.

Castiel could hear him breathing. His heart was hammering away in his chest and he felt the same elated sensation of flying. They were finally connected in a small but significant way that spun his head and threatened to drown him because now, Castiel wasn’t about to speak to the other man with doubts in his mind about what he wanted.

Now he knew what he wanted.

“Dean,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “Is that you?”

A small gasp. Him exhaling. “Cas.” It was really him. And knowing that they were so far apart, nothing else mattered.

The instrumental music that drifted through the phone during their first phone call was replaced by the sound of Helen Shapiro’s Cry My Heart Out. And just the thought of him listening to that song, brought tears to Castiel’s eyes because it was one of the songs that never unearthed a reaction from him. Never. One of those songs that someone could listen to and enjoy the pain behind the words but never become consumed by it.

But now, it was like slowly being poisoned and feeling the words seep through his skin.

“I was just thinking about you,” Castiel said, “wondering what you’re doing.”

Four seconds. The sound of Dean breathing was so ecstatic. “You wouldn’t believe if I told you.”

“Try me,” Castiel slipped off his shoes, and climbed onto his bed. He reached for the windows and opened them. The phone was nestled between his right cheek and shoulder.

“I’m in Scotland. And I’m sitting on the roof of my castle. And I have my phone up here. Nothing like Helen Shapiro and whiskey to numb the brain.”

Sinking onto the sheet and on top of the pillow, Castiel smiled. And he was certain that he was blushing. Deeply. “Shapiro is golden.”

“She is a goddess.”

The two of them chuckled and then the phone was filled with the lyrics of Fever.

For the entire song, the two of them didn’t say anything and the silence was so comfortable. Castiel closed his eyes.

He could just imagine what it would feel like to be there with Dean, to curl up on his chest like a comma. To feel his heart beating. The smell of him. The softness of his hair and the warmth of his breath.

“Where are you right now?” Dean finally asked, his voice a low husky quality. “You’re not on Baker Street. I’ve checked.”

“When?” Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. Surely the other man hadn’t swung by his apartment.

“Sunday. And the Wednesday before.” Dean sighed. “Mom fixed a basket of scones for you. She sent Sam over but you weren’t there.”

“Dammit, I love those scones,” Castiel groaned. He fiddled with the edge of the blanket.

“Are you in New York?” Dean’s voice was deeply affected by so much emotion all of a sudden. “Please tell me you’re still in England.”

“I’m still in England. How are you feeling? Are you taking your medication as prescribed?” he couldn’t help but sound worried.

“Yeah, I’m taking them,” Dean sighed. “I’m in Airplane Mode. Have been for a week now. You know, I disappear sometimes. I draw blanks and go under the radar. Right now, I feel like I’m sailing among the stars.”

“Why? Is it the whiskey?” Castiel was hanging on to every word. Helen was belting out Look Who It Is.

“No, Cas. I’m sailing because I’m talking to you.” Dean was silent for a moment. “After four weeks and two days, why are you calling me now? Just curious.”

Because I miss you. Because I’m in love with you. Because I keep falling in love with you and it’s stupid, really.

Castiel sighed because he could think those things but he couldn’t say it. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he said softly. “I wanted to know that you’re okay and nothing happened to you.”

“Does drinking almost an entire bottle of whiskey, and listening to Helen Shapiro sound like I’m doing okay?”

Castiel squeezed back the tears. He swallowed hard. “No, Dean, it doesn’t.”

“But hey, I’m trying to be happy,” Dean forced out a laugh. “Although you took half of my heart away with you. And you own it. I’m trying to survive. One day it will get better. Meaning that when I think of you, I wouldn’t cry like a baby. But until that day comes, I’ll drink by myself and listen to love songs and think of you.”

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice cracked. “I don’t want you to drink because of me.”

“What do you do then?” Dean sounded so far away, his voice slightly muffled by the connection on the phone. “Do you even miss me?”

“I think of you every second of every day.” Castiel’s throat ached. He was crumbling and felt like achy all over. “And I can’t…get over. I can’t.” He stopped because there was no light in his life suddenly. “I can’t let you go, Dean.”

“See, now you’re going to make me cry,” the other man said through the phone as his voice lowered to a strained whisper. “I hope it’s only good thoughts you have of me. Dammit, Cas. I want you so much. It’s…killing me. No. Shit.” Dean swore under his breath. “Forget I said that. I shouldn’t have said that. Friends first, right? We can be that.”

I don’t want to be your friend. I want you to want me. I want you to kiss me and to love me.

Castiel’s face contorted from angst rippling through him. “Sure, Dean,” he said in a voice that wasn’t his own. “Friends.” The word ripped through his heart and made him bleed out painfully.

“I think I’m drunk,” Dean said after a while. “The world is legit spinning and I can count a million stars above me.”

Castiel was pinching the bridge of his nose, tears wetting his cheeks and trailing beneath his ears onto his neck and the pillow. Maybe this was a bad idea; o call Dean, because he wasn’t in control of himself anymore. The very essence of heartbreak was consuming him in its ferocious fangs.

“You should get off the roof then,” he said in a small voice. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“What if I can’t get off?” Dean gasped dramatically and fumbled around with something. “What if…I have to stay here until morning.”

“I don’t know, Dean. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so stupid to go up there in the first place.” Castiel was growing irritated and he hated himself for feeling that way and for losing the quality of his voice to emotions.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes,” Castiel said through his tears. He felt so soft, like he was sinking into warm water in a creek under the moonlight. “I’m mad. At you. So much right now.”

“Why are you mad?” Dean slurred the question. “I’m going to lie here until the buzz wears off. Johnnie always does it.” There was the sound of him adjusting his position. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Because you made me fall in love with you,” Castiel’s chest was heaving. The wind that came through his window made his tears feel like icicles. “You came into my life and changed everything for me. There is nothing else except you now. And I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

“I love you,” Castiel lost control of his tongue somewhere between losing his breath and drowning in tears. “Dean. I…want…” but again, he couldn’t admit it because the weight of John’s words hung in the air like a noose hovering next to Dean’s neck

“Aw, I’m kissing you through the phone.” The sound of Dean doing exactly that was supposed to be funny. But it wasn’t.

“You are an adorable idiot,” Castiel smiled through his tears. “Do you know that?” His chest shook from chuckling.

“I’m your adorable idiot.” Dean laughed. He was really and truly wasted because he sounded like it. “It’s been four weeks that feels like a lifetime and the feeling gets stronger. Like every day. I’ll marry you some day, most likely this year or early next year. I promise.”

“Dean…” Castiel croaked, “stop.” The actualization of jumping so fast, and imagining something so special between them was more than he could process. And Castiel felt so numb inside from loving a man who contained all the belief in the world about their future whilst he couldn’t entertain the idea but kept dreaming.

“Adam is getting thrown off. He’s not going to be next in line. Guess who is? Me,” Dean was on a roll as he chuckled in good humor. “And I’m going to be the first King who marries a man he loves. I’ll give you any title you want because Sam doesn’t want the crown. He wants me to have it.”

“I don’t want a title, Dean,” Castiel said softly, his heart crying out in his chest. He tasted his tears. “I just want you.”

“You can have me,” Dean said simply. “You’ve just decided that what you have in New York means more to you than I do. And I’ll never understand it because you can have all of me and I’d give you anything you want. But you don’t want me.”

“It’s the hardest and most painful choice I have ever made in my life,” Castiel said defiantly, but his voice was unsteady. “If you could only put yourself in my shoes, then you would understand how difficult this is for me.”

“Choose me, Cas,” Dean said softly. “You don’t have to chase me. I’ll chase you.”

The silence that stretched out after those words was filled with soft sobs. Castiel felt agony like he never felt before, like every time he tried to dwell upon his life in New York, it felt like poison was coursing through his veins and he didn’t want that life anymore.

Every single day he drifted further from that life and more into the arms of a man who was flawed and wounded and beautiful. He was dreamy and soft and playful and lighthearted. He wanted freedom, the ability to stretch his wings. And he wanted a reporter, from across the world that was stupid and arrogant and wouldn’t feel with his heart.

“Good night, Dean,” Castiel eventually said in a whisper. His chest wouldn’t stop shaking. His tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

Dean was silent for a while like if he dreaded their conversation ending. “Just like that, you’re going to leave me. You don’t want me, do you? I’m so messed up, and I have a shitty disorder that probably makes you see me as a psycho who you can ever be with. But that’s okay –”

“Dean, that’s not true,” Castiel’s voice was so small. “Stop saying those things. Stop…thinking like that because it’s not the truth at all. All the things I’ve said to you before, admitting that I love you, have you forgotten?”

“It’s the alcohol talking. You’d never say those things to me. Good night.”

When the call ended abruptly, turning into his pillow, Castiel cried. Curled up in a comma, he balled his fists and shook from sobs, from knowing that he was being pushed into a corner. And that he was forced to make the hard choice of staying away because he wanted Dean to keep having his best chance in life, to stay with his family and to put his family first and the crown.

Not him.

He wasn’t worth it. He was a man who was many things wrapped up in one. A tragedy who wasted most of his life married to a woman who didn’t love him as much as he tried to love her. A woman who turned away from him in bed and never sexually wanted him. And she hammered the belief inside his head that he wasn’t appealing and could never be a beautiful thing.

But to Dean he was all those things. To Dean he was so much more.

And when Ruby started calling out to him, he only managed to wipe the tears away quickly before springing out of bed.

“Come listen to this!” she patted the seat next to her but didn’t ignore the redness in those blue eyes. And when he came to sit down, Ruby pulled him into a warm embrace.

“What is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“BBC is on and Princess Annalise is in the goddamn headlines,” she squished him into a hug. “Let’s wait and see.” After sometime though, she pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “It will be alright, Cassie Cas. It will get better.”

“It just…hurts. Really bad,” he admitted, wishing now more than ever that the phone call was never made. Perhaps guiltily, the distance between them was hurtful but needed. A connection only worsened the longing and anguish of making the toughest choices.

“Let it hurt,” she actually said to him, their eyes lingering on each other. “Cry on my shoulder. Tell me things about him. Tell me anything about how you feel and what is happening to you. In other words, fuck me with your angst and I’ll try to hold you for as long as I can.”

“Very…poetic,” Castiel buried his face into her hair. “Thanks, Ruby.”

“Now breaking news tonight from London. It came as no shock when Princess Annalise of Emmerdale announced this afternoon that the royal wedding has been called off. Here’s the Princess’ message from the Westfordshire Palace.”

Ruby was staring at Castiel who was staring at the radio as if it was about to explode.

“It’s nothing to be alarmed about really. Please believe me when I tell you that the Duke of York, Prince Dean has done nothing but treat me as a best friend. He is the kindest man I have ever known. But I don’t believe our marriage would benefit either of us at this time in our lives. We have come to realize that we will be putting our happiness first. That we will give each other something special. And that is, a chance to fall in love and marry someone we choose to love. And I wish him the best of luck. As we part ways soon, I look forward to helping him in any way I can to achieve his heart’s desires as he continues to be the Prince the world adores.”

For a while neither of them said anything.

Castiel was stunned. He had no words.

And then, Ruby sprang up from the couch and faced him, hands planted on her hips.

“Get as much sleep as you can,” she said softly. “I know that it hurts but we’ve got to haul our asses back to London first thing tomorrow. We’ve got to cover this story more than ever now.”

He didn’t think he could. But he wasn’t ready to tell her that as yet.

It was like working a case and having a conflict of interest because the topic of the case was the reason why he couldn’t sleep at nights. The reason why he cried. And if he was to even attempt to write an article about Dean, then his words would be biased and too prejudiced from love.

Chapter Text

If one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.

JANE AUSTEN, Mansfield Park

Castiel couldn’t believe that he was successfully persuaded to accompany Ruby and Meg on a tour of Northampton Castle, which was evidently the official name for the Duke of York’s castle; his humble abode.

Neither of them had the decency to inform him of this outrageous plan, until they removed the blindfold and clapped their hands in glee at his stunned countenance.

It seemed like small details that should have meant something to him were being bypassed recently, because it’s not like he wasn’t aware of the name of Dean’s castle. The name should have flashed on a red light immediately after they mentioned it to him at breakfast the day prior.

But because he was busy trying to bury his mind in a Downton Abbey marathon, Castiel was utterly and absolutely fucked.

“I hate you,” he said to Ruby first, scowling at her saddened puppy look that was mocking. “And you too,” he pointed at Meg who was always a ray of sunshine. “I hate both of you for bringing me here. I’ll wait in the car.”

“Told you it was a bad idea. Look at him,” Meg gestured at Castiel neatly and angrily tucking himself inside the pink Miata. “He’s like a kid. That’s been bitten. By a dog. And the dog owns this castle.”

“Can you be more fucking depressing?” Ruby, hand planted on her hips, glared at the other woman.

“I can do the fucking. But I’m never depressing.” With a glint in her eyes, Meg went to the window of her car and bent down. “Hey, Castiel. Guess what? He’s not home. So, we can break a few things and get revenge.”

The last update she received was Dean leaving him inside the garden after the Ball like a defeated soldier. So, her judgment of the situation wasn’t too clear. To Meg, Castiel probably tucked away his feelings by now and should have been interested in a tour of one of the most beautiful castles in England.

But Ruby on the other hand, she was definitely privy to his woes and he couldn’t understand why a tour of the castle seemed like a good idea, knowing fully well that if he went inside the replica of Chatsworth House, he would feel things.

More than feel things.

He would probably retrace his steps, trailing after Dean, then winding up by a window that captured the most hurtful conversation they ever entertained and when the anxiety attack would kick in, Castiel would have to run. Again.

Even though Dean was out of the country in Scotland, going into his castle felt wrong, like trespassing although it was open to the public for tourists to take a look. And he didn’t wish to be so bold by invading the Prince’s property because more than likely the very same Prince wouldn’t want Castiel to be there.

“Get out the damn car,” Ruby strode up after losing her patience, then she checked to ensure that Meg wasn’t in earshot. “You might think that I’m the worst friend right now for doing this. You being a love sick puppy and all. But you need to do this.”

“Why?” He stared at her through the window. “It’s like returning to the scene of the crime!”

“A crime you didn’t commit! There’s nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty every now and again. I mean, come on. You’ve always been an Austen fan and if this place comes as close as it can to the real deal, then you have to see what it’s like,” she hissed. “Man up and get the fuck out.”

“Why are you doing this? Hmm?” he pushed open the door and climbed out angrily. The two of them glared at each other. “Are you trying to dangle this place in front of me. Trying to show me what I can have if I just make the decision to be with him. As if it’s so easy for me to do?”

“Your apartment in New York is a shithole,” Ruby poked him in the chest. “You’ve turned the damn thing into a bachelor’s quarters that is plain. And ugly and boring. Stop trying to push yourself down the ladder when you can climb up and live a better life.”

“If I can recall correctly, you were against this idea of the two of us even remotely pursuing each other. You told me to stay away from him.”

“That was because I had no idea you would fall in love with him,” she hissed, as Meg idly climbed the stone steps. “You’ve been crying yourself to sleep for over a month now. I can be having a conversation with you and you zone me out. Then on top of that, you’ve given me the damn article to write. So, I know that coming here is part of the process.”

“The…process,” he folded his arms. “Of what exactly, Ruby?”

“Of healing.”

“How is bringing me to his castle going to help me heal?” He gestured at the expansive place that remained breathtaking to behold. “You do recall his father’s threats. We can’t be together. It’s a tragic tale that will have to die.”

“Come here,” she growled and tugged on his arm. “Get your ass into the castle before I end you.”

“No!” He fought to remove her grip on him and couldn’t succeed because dammit, Ruby was like a ferocious tiger and demon wrapped up in one. “Let me go.”

Meg’s musical laughter drifted to them from the entrance. “How cute. Two adults fighting. You know what?” She cried down to them. “I’m going to head in. Whilst you two make out in the car.”

“Let go of me!” Castiel wrestled her playfully whilst gravel crunched under their shoes. He caught her around the middle and she twisted in his grasp. And she was laughing, tears sparkling in her dark eyes. “Good, God, woman! I said release me.”

Fifteen minutes later found all three of them being ushered into a large room with beautiful paintings and sculptures of all varieties. White stone. Marble. Even the paintings were very intriguing, well at least to the three of them because a group of four people took one look at the subjects that were either naked or wrapped in the throes of passion, and they turned their heads and strode away.

“Paint me like your French girl,” Meg purred at Ruby as she positioned herself in front of a watercolor depicting a naked woman draped over a chair. “No. I mean, take out your camera and capture me in my lewdness.”

“You tease,” the other woman eyed Castiel lingering near a sculpture of a naked man without a face, sitting on a bench, by a window draped in heavy red curtains.

“The Prince marvels over unusual art,” said the tour guide who was a short and stocky woman dressed neatly in a pinstripe suit. “This one was imported from Damascus,” she explained to Castiel. “We have no idea who the sculptor is but it was hidden away in a church.”

“A church?” He marveled over the realistic veins in the arms. “Christ. The details are very lifelike as far as white stone can achieve. But a church? Who on earth would hide this away in a religious place? It’s blasphemy.”

“That is the exact thing the Prince said when he brought it here,” the woman smiled. “And this one,” they moved to two lovers sitting on a bench, gazing at each other, “was bought from Paris. Elliott Parker.”

The name rang a bell in Castiel’s mind. But he couldn’t pinpoint from where until Meg came across to join them.

“The French man. He was infatuated by Dean. He dressed like a woman to get Dean to seduce him. At a party. Can you imagine?”

He remembered it all at once.

The scandal in the newspapers roughly nine years ago. The story wasn’t covered by him but it was explosive because Elliott was a spy for the Russians. And if he succeeded in getting Dean into his grasp, the Royal Family would have been under a lot of pressure.

The amount of people who only wished that Dean possessed their hearts, and caressed the idea of him being romantically inclined could be too vast to account for. When by all means, he was fortunate enough to succeed without trying. But love was never an easy fete, was it? One could entertain the notion of becoming entirely devoured by the fangs of love and passion but there were always obstacles.

“It is said that he mixed a potent love potion into the paint,” the tour guide said. “No, don’t worry,” she laughed when Castiel plucked his hand away from caressing the woman’s small nose. “We’ve done many tests on it. There’s no harm in the coating. But this…” Emma, as her name tag introduced, led them to a white stone shaped like a suitcase with a unicorn standing on its hind legs. “This was used in the 1400s to hide someone inside for transport. It’s called ‘The Unicorn’s Package’.”

“Incredible,” Castiel noticed the latch that was almost hidden from view. And he wished more than anything in the world that the tour guide could be replaced by Dean.

If the request was achieved, then his experience probably would have been more intense, and perhaps too exhilarating for Castiel to maintain composure. But the Prince’s explanations, intermingled with good humor would have been entertaining.

Just imagine how many books I can hide in there, Cas.

I bought it because of the unicorn. I love unicorns so much.

Cas, do you want to see if you can fit inside?

“And this here,” Emma smiled as they walked up to a bust of a man from the midsection and upwards, “is the Prince. Isn’t he handsome?”

The delicate shape of the lips. The perfect jawline. The way his hair swept upwards at the front into a short wave. And his ears; rather tempting enough to nibble on. The perfection in the details was just beautiful and immediately seemed to uplift Castiel in ways he could never vocally admit.

“Actually, my friend here met your boss,” Ruby said smiling proudly and nudging the man by her side. “More than once.”

“Really?” Emma stared at Castiel. “Then you can tell that the features are as close to the real subject”

“Very much so.”

For a long time, he simply stood there, gazing and becoming lost, knowing that if the world was best suited for less tragedies, then the two of them could be living their best lives with each other.

“You coming?” Ruby tugged on his arm. Meg already left the space along with the tour guide and the temperature suddenly transitioned from a warm fuzzy feeling to a rather cold draft seeping in from the threatening weather outside.

“Yeah,” he was still dazed, and exactly in the state she described earlier. Zoning her out. “Just a moment. Go on without me.”

After clapping his ass playfully, Ruby sauntered away, as usual decked out in leather.  And there Castiel remained, feeling completely rooted to the spot, captivated and the room widened making him feel absolutely smaller and lost in a world that belonged to Dean that told so many stories.

Could it be possible to feel desirously comfortable in a place such as the one he was standing in? The wealth of artifacts ranging from paintings to tapestries obviously imported from several places around the world was enlightening to say the least. But as rapturous as each room proved to be, Castiel couldn’t help but inwardly wonder if any satisfaction was gained from never sharing that kind of wonders with someone else.

For years Dean inhabited the castle alone, occasionally bringing in lovers but no one ever stuck around long enough to build a home. Come to think of it, wandering inside the rooms of a place as gigantic as Northampton could prove to be a lonely experience after a while. After all, the castle came into Dean’s possession when he was roughly one and twenty so remarkably, for almost ten years, everything inside the walls were preserved and absolutely virgin to someone else’s touch.

But he could have it, Castiel thought to himself.

When he finally decided to run along and join the other two, he couldn’t locate them. Castiel wounded up climbing a dimly lit staircase covered in the same blood red carpeting and beautiful sconces behind cages but these weren’t ignited.

He guiltily danced his fingers along the smooth bannister as he wandered upwards and ended up on a landing. The view from the window right in front of him was so breathtaking; the beginning of a vast forest that stretched out and then a sliver of the river Thames in the distance and the colorful roofs of boats as they passed by.

Ruby was right. His apartment could never compare to inside the castle with the rich history captured inside its walls and the intricate details of the fine carpeting and tapestries. The absence of dust and the precision of placement by all things seemed to be something that was quite heavenly to Castiel.

He couldn’t imagine himself living inside a place as large as that and as beautiful as its owner, built to Dean’s specifications and upkept from his meticulous personality and staff. But maybe self-denial stemmed through his mind like veins in his body, affecting every single corner with doubt because Castiel favored a life inside a place like Dean’s castle.

After all, which Jane Austen fan wouldn’t want to live such a life?

Dean entertained everything in the likeness of his favorite author; there were drawing rooms to receive guests, warm fireplaces and cozy armchairs made from fine dark oak. Not forgetting the fountain in front in the likeness of the memorable scene when Colin Firth emerged from the waters like a heavenly being. Or Matthew Macfadyen’s famous alternate scene shared with Keira Knightley after he kissed her repeatedly on her face whilst whispering ‘Mrs. Darcy’.

Those fond memories curled Castiel’s toes because he wanted nothing more in the world than to experience as much as he could from those favorite books. From knowing that he could be living his own Austen story coupled with the woes of sense, sensibility, pride, prejudice, persuasion. And now, a bit of Alice in Wonderland falling down the rabbit hole and ending up in a place that never really seemed real to begin with.

Just then, as he rounded a corner and ended up in a small hallway, the soft tunes of a piano greeted him. But it wasn’t coming from the room that he ventured into on a prior night. That room was tucked away somewhere upstairs, on the top floor.

No, this room, as he drifted towards it, was in the back of the building where the view of the river Thames was just barely there but evident. And when he drew closer, Castiel held his breath.

His heart was hammering away, wondering if Dean was indeed home, and back early from his trip because for some odd reason, Castiel felt his presence in the castle but disregarded it as the owner’s essence captured in every room. And he was entirely nervous when he stood bravely in the doorway and cast his eyes inside.

But it wasn’t the Prince. It was the likeness of no other than Princess Annalise sitting before a finely polished black piano, playing a quick tune that kept her fingers dancing like fireflies and skillfully performing Jenny’s Market from the 2010 BBC series adaption of Emma. And yes, he was thoroughly versed in Austen like that.

When their eyes met eventually, she didn’t stumble on her piece, but kept on playing with a warm smile gracing her pretty face; a smile possibly arising from capturing an audience that seemed to be lost in the song. Then after her fingers started to soften the tune and slowed the pace, Annalise sighed.

“Hi, Castiel,” she said dreamily. “Your eyes are like oceans and skies.”

The greeting wasn’t expected and he hadn’t the faintest idea how she could have figured out his identity.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” her footsteps were light when she came towards him with arms extended. They hugged warmly as if they were well acquainted. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.” Taking his right hand into her small one, Annalise pulled him towards a fine piece of red furniture that was positioned by the window.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” he said as she glanced out the window and sighed.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” her voice was so soft and calming, as she was delicate in features and physically. Even her gown was a soft blush of pink and her hair was swept up in that signature high ponytail that always reminded him of Ariana Grande.

“I find it to be one of the most beautiful views I have come across thus far,” he remarked. “Every window seems to offer nothing but the finest ideas for a painting.”

“I’m really going to miss it,” she seemed saddened, hands resting on her lap. Their eyes met. “By now I guess you’ve heard of the wedding being called off.”

“Two days ago, I was privy to your speech on the radio. I’ve never heard a better one in a long time. Your speech, I mean.”

“Well, I spoke from the heart,” Annalise bowed her head and still kept smiling. “It’s not like we will part as strangers. Did you know that Dean and I have been friends since we were nine years old?”

Her willingness to provide information was slightly unnerving but refreshing at the same time. “I did not know that,” Castiel liked the color of her eyes. It was a very rich honey that appeared golden when she turned her gaze out of the window. “How did you two meet?”

“A birthday party. The Prime Minister’s son at the time was our age. And as common courtesy, my father being an Emperor in London, well he was asked to take his awkwardly shy daughter to the event. From the moment I walked in there, I can remember freezing up from fright because I knew no one. And then I spied this little boy in the corner who was staring at a brown teddy bear. I wanted that teddy bear.” She laughed and he realized that her humor was contagious.

“When I thought that I’d have to fight him for it, he just gave it to me. And I remember asking him why he did that. And he told me that his mother always taught him to show nothing but kindness to a girl. Over the years, Dean has done exactly that. I come here every summer to visit him. We’ve become the best of friends.”

Castiel frowned. “Forgive me if I might sound too forward, but I’ve witnessed that on more than one occasion, you seemed to be put off by being in his company.”

“Hardly,” Annalise smiled. “I was angry. But not with him. I was angry with his father for trying to force us to marry each other. Imagine being told that you were expected to marry your best friend whom you’ve never developed feelings for.”

“That is quite an injustice.” He could never forget the fire in John’s eyes like a large cobra ready to strike.

Annalise sighed. “Dean has told me so much about you, Castiel. I feel as if I know you already. You’re all he talks about.”

“I’ve not done him any favors in trying to ease the situation,” he said carefully, not aware of how much information she was privy to.

“I know that it must not be easy to think of leaving your home to come here and be with him. Believe me, I know how it feels. I was uprooted from my country, leaving my father behind. And if the marriage was successful then I wouldn’t be able to see my sisters and brothers for a long time. You see, King John threatened me to remain here after the wedding because he knew that if I went home, I wouldn’t want to come back. But I will tell you this, Castiel,” she took his hand into hers and squeezed it. Their eyes met. “Dean is a gift. He honestly loves you. And every day you take to decide whether you want him or not, he’s trying as hard as he can to get over you.”

The weight Castiel’s heart felt before walking into the castle was nothing compared to what he was experiencing after her last words, after knowing now that efforts were being made to let him go and to forget him.

But then, wasn’t it only fair that Dean should be allowed to do that? To safeguard himself? To seek his own happiness, especially since he was trying to battle a disorder that could destroy him if he only allowed his mind to win?

“It’s frivolous,” she said studying his face and perhaps wondering what her best friend found so intriguing. “To just meet you like he did and to fall in love. I’ve never seen it happen to anyone I know except him. Maybe the two of you are soul mates and you’ve found each other and when you met…your souls recognized each other. Do you believe in reincarnation, Castiel?”

The openness on her face was so catchy, he slowly shook his head though. “I can’t say that I do. But I have given it some thought. Recycled souls…”

“Yes, so what happens is,” she adjusted her position on the chair to face him, hands animated, “in a prior life, your soul and Dean’s soul, regardless of which body you inhibited, met, fell in love and were perhaps together for a long time. Now after dying, those two souls came back down on earth, and have found each other again. It sounds really ridiculous, but there are plenty of stories that prove that someone has suffered déjà vu and wondered why.”

When she mentioned the part about his soul falling in love with Dean’s in a prior life, Castiel was severely moved. He thought that if it were true, then maybe it would indeed explain how everything happened so fast and now the two of them started experiencing these feelings and emotions so suddenly.

But if he was skeptical, then there were still so many things that could cushion the actuality of love at first sight.

The more he thought about it, Castiel remembered on the day in question when they first met, he was wearing a t-shirt with ‘I’m Mister Darcy’ printed on the front. And Dean’s interest would have been piqued from the moment he looked into the mirror and noticed the Jane Austen reference.

In fact, if Castiel related himself to that instance, he would have been ecstatic as well. He would have struck up a conversation and asked the person what was their favorite book.

But Dean’s response had been to openly comment on his eyes, to flirt and give him his number, maybe to get to know him because an Austen fanatic meeting another fanatic is quite something.

“He hasn’t spoken about you in over two weeks,” Annalise said, rising lightly from the chair and returning to the piano. “I’ve asked him about you. But he said that he doesn’t want me to mention your name because it makes him angry.”

“Did he say why?” Castiel’s chest felt too compressed from emotions all of a sudden.

Annalise played her fingers across the keys. “Dean is complicated like that. If he wants to forget someone or something, he starts finding all the flaws and hating those. Then when he’s consumed by hate, he somehow wakes up and completely turns against what he used to love. I’ve seen it a million times.”

He was consumed by weakness of nerves and wounded by her words. Castiel couldn’t help but return to gazing at the view beyond the window because the cracks inside his heart were opening up like wounds and like stabs from a knife. And just thinking about what Dean might have told her was tragic and hurtful.

Eventually, he gravitated towards the piano once more. Annalise played a haunting tune, one that could lure a broken heart in and kept him there in a trance. One that wrapped around him like a web and brought tears to his eyes from reflecting on losing Dean’s love, of being so stubborn about what he truly wanted, and in the process letting go of the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Was Dean really turning against him?

Had he been working tirelessly to forget how he felt?

How he almost kissed him?

How he held him close and didn’t want to let go?

Perhaps this was what happened with all the lovers Dean ever had the misfortune of knowing. The boredom of not having the same kind of thrill returned, the passion he needed to keep the flame alive and if it wasn’t there, he moved on quickly.

Dean drowned himself in alcohol for as long as the pain was there, and then just like that, one day he woke up and the pain was just a tickle.

Watching Annalise play was soothing to Castiel, and after a while, the two of them smiled at each other until she found something quite interesting behind him. Then her smile faded a little and was back on her face again just as Castiel felt him before he cast his eyes on him.

Dean’s presence was always capable of taking his breath away, of weakening his knees and dizzying his head. And the occasion was no different as Castiel stood there leaning onto the piano and his heart choked on terror because he was stunned and quite nervous and couldn’t alter his position near the instrument at first. Then slowly but surely, as Annalise rose from her seat to greet Dean, Castiel turned around to face him too.

Sometimes a book might try to capture a moment, but it might never be able to do any justice in the magnitude of a moment from actually living it. And that was exactly what it felt like between them.

Dean latched his eyes onto Castiel and instantly, a gaze was enacted that prolonged into a look that was so intense, everything else disappeared and was muted as the two of them spent possibly a full minute reliving every single tragedy that happened between them.

The first time they met. The conversations. The meeting by the window when they almost kissed and Castiel broke away. The argument that pushed them apart.

Dean wishing they never met. The texts. His bipolar disorder and his medication. The call when Dean was absolutely drunk and Castiel took advantage of the moment to admit how he truly felt.

But then Dean broke the gaze with a blink as if he suddenly turned off a light and he softly embraced Annalise.

“I thought you weren’t coming back till tomorrow!” she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks feverishly. The bond between them was something that instantly stirred up a bit of jealously inside Castiel that he was never conscious of until that moment.

“The weather is horrible over there,” Dean’s smile was forced, his tone flat. “Always rain and it’s not good for my mood. So, I decided to come back earlier.” His fingers played fondly on her cheek as blue eyes turned flat from feeling entirely invisible.

“Well, I’m glad you did. Look who’s here,” Annalise gestured at Castiel standing with his feet still rooted on the spot. “He’s touring the castle with his friends.”

“Cas.” Dean’s green eyes lacked the sparkle, in fact, he was too calm, like the eye of a storm.

And Castiel was already certain of one thing; a lot had changed between them and the ripples from that storm would be felt sooner than later.

“Dean,” but his tone was more pleading than a stiff acknowledgement. “I’m sorry to intrude. I was dragged here against my will.”

“I can tell,” Dean moved to a small table by the window without a smile. “Because why would you even want to come here? If not to look at my house as if you’re a stranger to it.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Whiskey?” Dean interrupted and admired Annalise standing by the instrument. “Anyone?” He barely glanced at Castiel.

“I’m fine with some sparkling water,” she said wringing her hands as her worried stare bounced back and forth between them.

When green eyes that were flat met blue ones, Castiel shook his head and stared back in shock. He was suddenly treated as if he could perhaps be a fly on the wall, as if nothing between them mattered at all. And the hurt Castiel felt was so excruciating, he wished he hadn’t come upstairs in the first place.

Dean poured himself a finger of his favorite poison and handed Annalise her water in a crystal glass. Then downing it in one go, the Prince stood there and barefacedly scrutinized Castiel, from his disheveled hair all the way down to his shoes. And whilst his eyes roamed, he offered no display of contentment or being thrilled to see the other man.

Instead, after returning his glass to the table, he went to stand by the window in an attitude that suggested the depth of too much thinking happening all at once.

Annalise on the other hand drifted towards him, and lightly touched his arm. “Did you eat lunch as yet?”

“Had a few sandwiches on my way back,” Dean said, smartly dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with black jeans. He was wearing comfortable riding boots, brown and laced up. “I’m so exhausted right now. I could sleep for a week.”

“Then you should rest,” Castiel tried to find his voice although tears burned behind his eyelids. Dean was so handsome. So…perfect. He missed him terribly, to a point where he wanted to touch him, to hold him and to feel his warmth but he couldn’t. “How was your trip?”

“Uneventful. But needed. Gave me time to focus on what’s important and what’s not. And you know what I’ve been thinking about a lot lately?” Dean turned, and leaned against the wall by the window, arms folded. “That you should never make someone a priority if all you are to them is an option,” he said looking directly at Castiel with an unreadable countenance.

And there it was, the fear of knowing since the Prince walked into the room that everything changed between them and he had long ago passed the breaking point and was on the verge of shattering. And Castiel was obviously the object of his hatred and his ultimate enemy in more ways than one because he felt like that.

Really and truly, Castiel felt like he deserved as much pain and anger as Dean was willing to shove at him.

“If you’re referring to us,” he didn’t care that they weren’t alone, “you are a priority.”

“Really?” Dean actually chuckled and shook his head. The sound was heavy with mockery. “You have the nerve.”

“Dean, do you have something to say to me?” Castiel’s voice was uneven and his fingers felt so cold as he stood there and felt like a thousand arrows were piercing his chest. “If you do, then say it.”

“You claim that you have fallen for me,” the Prince said suddenly, his eyes flashing. “That you…love me, as you said.” He pointed accusingly at Castiel. “And every step of the way, you made me feel like I’m an option. Do you think that I was so drunk that night I wouldn’t remember our conversation?”

“Dean…” Annalise rushed towards him and took his arm. “Don’t get worked up. You know what happens when you do.” She rubbed his back and he leaned into the touch.

But Castiel could say nothing in return.

What could he retaliate with when there was enough truth in Dean’s statements? That every day, he was reminded of how he was suffering because of his arrogance, because he simply could not risk it all to follow his heart and to take love by the hand and let it lead him on.

But there were valid reasons. Oh, how those reasons burned like bullet wounds.

Had his feelings not developed into so much more, then perhaps he would have justified his decision to place the life he built in New York on the top rung of the ladder. But now everything inside of him was consumed by Dean, to a point where he stood there and felt so small and so broken that under the Prince’s glare, there was nothing left to do than to leave.

As he turned to the door and was on his way towards it, he didn’t notice the fire behind those green eyes soften with the regret Dean felt from expelling his frustrations into the open by voicing his feelings.

“Wait,” Dean said softly, stopping the other man on his way out. “No, wait. You can’t leave without telling me why you said those things to me. And why it’s so easy for you to stay away.”

When Castiel turned around and glared at him, Annalise sighed and returned to the seat by the window. She said not a word, because her intervention would not be given this time. Instead, the two of them needed to level the score by themselves.

“I said those things that night because it is the truth. I couldn’t lie,” Castiel said in an uneven tone. “When you love someone as much as I love you…” his voice cracked and he needed to stop to compose himself. “The only thing you want, is to give that person their best chance at life.”

“And my best chance isn’t with you?” Dean asked, angry and emotional at the same time. All the fire and disappointment hardened that handsome face. It was too much to bear.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel shook his head as tears filled those blue eyes. “I love you…so, so much. Not being with you kills me every single day. But I would rather you exist in my world within all this glory and peace,” his gaze swept around the room, “than to have your father destroy you in every sense of the word. And he will do whatever it takes to break us apart. The military. Burying you somewhere where I can’t find you.”

“Did he…” Dean swallowed hard as he took a step closer, appearing stunned because Castiel quoted the last conversation he had entertained in the library with John. “Did he pay you a visit? My father. Did he get to you?”

Castiel though, lowered his eyes to the floor and it was enough to answer the question.

Annalise gasped. “Wow. Just…” she turned away and blinked, “…wow. The nerve of that man! I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so much in my life. He’s trying to destroy you, Dean. Just as Cas said. He hates you so much, he would rather you die alone than be with the one you love. Can’t you see what he’s doing to the both of you?” she glanced between both of them. “He’s trying to tear you apart. To make you hate each other eventually.”

Dean sighed, his chest trembling. “Every goddamn time he does it,” he said on the verge of tears. “Every single time he tries to take it all away. And I am just done. I’m…” shaking his head, those green eyes watered and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “I hate him.”

“His threats were substantial,” Castiel tried, his heart breaking from the Prince’s crumbling disposition. “And I can’t do it.”

“You can’t do what?” Dean suddenly stared at him and there were a thousand flares behind his eyes. “Do you honestly think that at this point when I know that you feel the same about me and I can have you, I’m going to give in to my father’s threats?”

“Dean, he will do whatever it takes to keep us apart!”

“I don’t care, Cas!” Dean slammed his fists onto the piano and rattled the keys.

The silence that followed was deafening and Castiel was stricken with the kind of shock that washed over his face and destroyed his composure all at once.

He took a shaky breath and tried to implore reason. “I’m just trying to figure out how I can do this with you. But it is so hard for me. You don’t seem to understand,” his voice shook terribly.

“Then make me understand!” Dean was wild eyed and fatigued. “Do you know how painful it is to know that every single second of every day, I keep thinking about you and loving you more and more?”

“Dean, don’t you dare believe that I’m not experiencing the same kind of emotions.”

“Then let’s do this together,” the Prince pleaded. “Cas, this hurts me so much. It’s goddamn unfair that you could think that I don’t understand.”

“I am…scared from how I feel about you! Because it is so strong and so new to me. And the worst part is, I know…I know what it is like to have your father hate you. Both of my parents hate me,” Castiel’s blue eyes were so bright. “They’ve taken away everything from me since I was a child. Leaving me to start over and to find my way. And it was so…hard. I don’t wish the same thing for you.”

“I’d have you, Cas,” Dean said softly, “by my side. I’d have you.”

“Where would we go, Dean?” Castiel looked around the room and realized that Annalise suddenly disappeared. “Where would we live? How long would you keep running from your father until he finds us? Do you know what my worst fear is? Not losing you by letting you go. But waking up to the news of you winding up dead somewhere in the middle east. Or anywhere for that matter. It would kill me too. I…can’t…” choking on his tears, Castiel turned away, “I can’t do that to you.”

“Cas,” Dean closed the distance between them and reached for the other man’s hands. He took them gingerly into his and squeezed. Their eyes met and for the first time, maybe since they met, Dean discovered that the depth of love in the other man’s gaze was genuine and warm and yet Castiel was afraid and in pain. “We would make it. We would try.”

“No,” Castiel said, shaking his head. The feeling of their fingers entwined was so amazing, he never wanted to let go. He savored the softness of Dean’s hands, knowing that if their lives were different, then they could be holding onto each other easily.

“Look at me,” Dean pleaded, his thumbs reassuringly massaging the other man’s palms.

But he couldn’t look at him because Castiel knew that he would give up everything in that moment to be with Dean. He would run away with him. He would go wherever he wanted them to go, do whatever Dean wanted him to do and he would regret it afterwards.

Dean, however, released the other man’s hands and swallowed hard, his eyes filling with tears. “So, that’s it then,” he croaked. “You’re going to give up on me. The one person that keeps me sane. Knowing that I can love you and I could hope. Now you want me to give up that hope and the happiness I feel when I think of you and me being together.”

“Dean…” Castiel was crying softly, because he was too far gone. Possibly, it was the worst feeling of all to stand so close to someone you loved more than anything in the world and choke from having to make the hardest decision.

“You’re going to break…my heart. Cas, look at me. I’m begging you.”

“Please…don’t.” Castiel ended up looking into those pools of green and he felt naked. “I don’t want anything terrible to happen to you. If it did, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” when Dean inhaled deeply, eyes closed and face upturned to the ceiling in anguish, Castiel died inside. “We can’t just be friends, Dean. And if I stay, the consequences will do more harm than good.”

“And when you leave?” those green orbs revealed so much pain.

“When I leave, I’ll feel the pain, oh I know I will. But at least I’ll be able to survive knowing that you’re alive.”

The Prince held Castiel’s face between his palms. Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears away slowly and tenderly. And Castiel wanted to touch him. But he knew that if the chance was taken, then he wouldn’t want to leave.

“I’ll still keep on loving you. I always will love you, Cas,” Dean said softly, although his chest felt like it was on fire. “Because I know one day you’ll come back to me. I’m meant to be with you. And I’m going to wait for you. No, don’t say anything,” he shook his head fast, intimately rubbing a thumb across parted lips. “My sweet, Cas. Let me have hope, because if I don’t have hope, I’m afraid of what my mind will do to me. My father might not be the one who kills me. My mind will. But if I hold on to you. Just a little,” his voice trembled, and their gaze deepened. “It will be enough to keep me alive.”

“Dean, I love…you,” Castiel whispered, his cheeks wet as the other man’s touch still remained on his face. “Please, will you always remember that? I don’t want you to hate me, because…”

“I would never hate you. When I think of you, there is only love and like I promised, I’ll love you forever.

And without saying another word or waiting on a reply, Dean torturously decided to walk away first because if he didn’t, he would have felt like there was no hope.

Instead, he chose to make the first move because he wanted to feel like he still had some control over something.

But he left the other man in a state that was far worse than death.

Castiel felt like he already died, like he was incapable of regaining control of himself.

A long time afterwards Ruby found him still standing there. And after he turned into her shoulder and cried whilst his sobs shook his entire body, she held him.

She held him for a long time afterwards.

Chapter Text

Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

Do not give way to useless alarm; though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.

JANE AUSTEN, Pride and Prejudice

People often like to underestimate the substantial amount of destruction that a heartbreak can cause.

It is like tethering on the edge of insanity and becoming overwhelmed by an out of body experience because inside your body feels like the worst kind of hurricane of emotions.

The cold sweats. The nausea. The ripples of pain and the poison coursing through your veins. And the actuality of having all those terrible feelings slowly trying to suffocate the source: the heart.

But if one could perhaps upkeep a stolid countenance, to suit what society approves of instead of falling prey to the collapse of an empire built from pure love within; then maybe you could survive.

After a month, Castiel was sitting in his office, watching the views on the article climb by the minute. But he wasn’t okay in a general sense of asking about his health. All of a sudden, people at work were concerned about his welfare, as if he was an exhibit on display that was completely ruined by a bad weather.

Within 24 hours, the Daily Scandal’s website almost crashed from an excess of 15 million visits. The rate of subscriptions reached a whopping 10 million. And Zachariah stopped by to drop off a box of jelly filled donuts and a promising raise.

Twirling his red ink pen around two fingers, Castiel studied the article. And he wondered whether he could manage to read it some day without the words bringing tears to his eyes.

Once upon a time, there was a Prince who wanted nothing more than the freedom to be everything that he wanted to be. A man who was gifted in his generous heart as well as his loving soul.

But he was not able to live without the pain of being deprived of the one thing he wanted the most. He was constantly deprived of his freedom to choose who he would like to love by being tossed into arranged marriages. And every time he ran away from those situations that added more bars to the cage he was in, he was threatened by a father who never loved him.

The King was the kind of monster who didn’t care about the Prince. In fact, he, for many years, tried to kill the Prince’s belief in himself. He tried to erase him from the Royal Family. He punished him for being a butterfly and trying to stretch his wings. He flogged and shouted harsh words at the Prince who was constantly suffering from his own battles.

But the Prince had a wonderful mother who wanted everything the King didn’t want his son to be. She sheltered him and loved him and kept him close to her heart. The Queen smothered her favorite son in kisses and tried the best she could to keep the sparkle in the Prince’s green eyes. And when she couldn’t be there for him…

He had his brothers that believed in him. His youngest brother was his best friend; the one who picked him up when he was down. And his older brother armed him in his battles to help him fight harder and win.

One day, the Prince met a man who was from a faraway land that had taller castles. He thought that he had the most beautiful pair of eyes and he fell in love with him instantly. Not only because of those eyes. But because they shared so much in common. And he had never met anyone in his life that managed to see through his darkness. This man reached into his heart and started to remove those bars that caged it.

The Prince wanted to give up everything he had to be with this man. He wanted to give up his castle. He wanted to run away with him because his father did not want him to marry another man.

The King did not want his son to step up on the throne with a man by his side. He thought it was disgusting because he was a monster and he could never love his son, so why would he give him the opportunity to be with the man he loved more than anything in the world?

“The Press Secretary has denied that the article is in any way affiliated to the Royal Family,” Zachariah poked his head into the office with a wide smile. “Can you imagine what it must feel like to them? Like being fucked from behind.”

“I can’t imagine how you would know what that feels like,” Castiel said without a smile. “But I will take your word for it.”

“The glory,” his boss came into his space and the intrusion terribly upset him. He had a tendency to touch things unnecessarily. “The smart move you made was to post it under an anonymous writer. They can’t use this against you. It’s been on the minds of every goddamn person in the world to ass ream the King.”

“I suppose.” Moving around his mouse, Castiel tapped some keys and seemed rather distracted. There was an empty space where his heart used to be. It was a space that looked like a city after war.

If Zachariah wasn’t a good judge of dispositions, he would have made a terrible joke. But he couldn’t. Not when, for the past few days, Castiel literally changed everything about himself and he recognized those signs all too well.

The t-shirts were replaced by long-sleeved shirts. He even wore a tie and appeared almost as if he was trying so hard to drown his former self because being the old Castiel was painful. And he stopped trying to piss Zachariah off.

Now that was the biggest insult.

“I miss that rainbow inside of you,” Zachariah said softly, tilting his head and offering a sympathetic look, arms falling to his sides. “Is there anything I can do to make this less painful?”

Castiel sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. “Just get out of my office and leave me alone.”

“Sure,” Zachariah turned, and headed towards the door.

“Thanks,” Castiel returned softly from behind, just as his boss was reaching for the knob. “For noticing.” He heard the soft brush of the door on the carpet under it and then he was alone again.

This time, returning to Google was a guilty pleasure. Castiel repeated the search on the same name that remained imprinted in his mind from staring at it all day.

DEAN WINCHESTER

And once again, the results page brought nothing new, just the same old news about donations to the Children’s Hospital, the AIDS Foundation and photos of Dean’s old life of partying wildly.

Castiel begun to hate that there were no leaked nudes of Dean. He had become that desperate with nothing to survive on but his imagination that created a world of dreams around the two of hugging and what Dean felt like. So warm in his arms, in those brief moments, and maybe ninety percent of those memories were concocted from dreams too painful to erase, but Castiel needed the fuel to keep on going.

“Goddammit,” he groaned as the migraine crept up again behind his temples, bringing on nausea. And reaching for the bottle of Tylenol, he downed four, wishing he there was a bottle of merlot in hand reach.

“Dean,” he whispered in a weak tone, staring at the screen as the tears burn behind his eyelids that were heavy from a lack of sleep. “I miss you so much.”

The worst part of it all was the destruction that came from regret, from believing that he achieved the ultimate wrong because he was the one that didn’t want to try. But when he thought about trying to live with the man he loved, Castiel only started to cry.

He began to hate himself too much to even remember how to smile.

For one month after returning from London, Ruby holed up with him in his apartment. Like a tornado swirling around his space, upending things that were of no concern to her, his best friend kept trying to be there for him because he didn’t have friends.

After coming to New York, she vowed that she wouldn’t leave him until his head was above water. And her promise was a solid one.

Pulling him out of bed. Running a bath and chucking him under a warm shower. Cooking for him. If not cooking, ordering take-out. Doing his laundry. Getting him into yoga so that he could release his pain. Taking him shopping with her. Helping her to take photos.

But in everything Castiel did, he kept trying to look for Dean.

He wondered what kinds of food he loved; heavy on the cholesterol or vegan?

He kept remembering the way he dressed; sometimes in his plaids, and on special occasions, his fancy crisp shirts.

The way he smiled; that lopsided smile that scrunched up the right corner of his mouth. Or that beautiful Colgate smile, tongue tucked between perfect rows of teeth that brightened his disposition tremendously. God, how Castiel loved that smile.

And the way he smelled; Midnight and Two; a mixture of sandalwood and lavender, Irish Spring, fruity shampoos, whiskey, his breath warm and minty.

Dean claimed that he would always love him, and that he would wait for as long as it took. And maybe that’s why Castiel couldn’t get over their love story, because as much as Dean wanted to live on that kind of hope, he survived on feeling the same thing.

It was six o’clock, about three months later when his mobile chirped repeatedly from the living room.

Castiel had fallen into a routine by then.

Coming home from work. Preparing dinner; microwavable or something he dragged in, most times soups or sandwiches bought from the deli across the street. Then he would retreat to the television for two hours, turn off the lights and slip into bed.

He would read until the clock struck 1 because then and only then did he get up in search of the moon. And when he found it, he would cling onto the feeling of Dean on the rooftop of his castle, or somewhere else looking at the same sky sprinkled with stars.

It was boring.

The routine drove him into a sickened and nauseated state and even Whiskers couldn’t contribute any cheer, because she kept looking at those blue eyes as if she knew that he was heartbroken. And Castiel began to detest everything about himself and the daunting life in New York more and more.

When he collected his phone and stared at the PRIVATE number, he was prepared to deny the call.

In the line of reporting, taking those kinds of calls only led to trouble. But his gut told him to answer. Maybe it was like a premonition, and when he did, Castiel was not disappointed.

“Yo, mate. My best friend who dumped me,” Sam’s familiar voice immediately softened Castiel’s heart. His sour mood instantly disappeared and was replaced by fireworks on Guy Fawkes day.

“Hi!” he settled onto the sofa and rested the bowl of vegetable soup on the coffee table. “Forgive me but I managed to dump myself too.”

“If you know how many times, I wanted to call you. But I didn’t want to because I kept thinking that if you hate my brother then you will more than likely hate me too.”

“I…don’t…hate…your,” Castiel swallowed. It had been a long time and no one, not even Ruby would entertain a conversation about Dean because she was really afraid that he would suddenly combust into tears and shakes.

Sam sighed on the other end. The moon was full just outside the glass wall. It was so beautiful and cast him into a nostalgic mood.

“Dean’s not…Dean,” the youngest Winchester said, “I know you want to ask but you can’t. Not really. I mean, I guess that when he told me he would love you forever, he kind of meant it.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that the feeling is mutual?” Castiel asked softly, reaching for the wine glass. He took a sip and licked his lips. Merlot never disappointed in fact, drinking in the light of the moon was fantastically toe-curling.

Sam sighed again. “I believe you. I just wish that he knew you still love him. He’s locked himself away. He never comes out only when forced by mom to have tea with her. And when I look into his eyes, I don’t see my brother in there anymore. I see pain. Like if he’s holding his breath.”

Castiel wasn’t amazed by how easily his eyes welled up with tears. But he didn’t want to entertain the conversation since the very thought of Dean was capable of murdering his already suffering heart. “How’s your mom? Is she doing okay?”

For a long time, Sam didn’t say anything. In fact, Castiel thought that the call ended up being disconnected. But then he heard the traffic passing by and realized that Sam was probably somewhere in the town. And thus Castiel waited patiently because at that moment, the other man on the line was his only connection to the love of his life.

Thinking such a thing felt so strange; the love of his life.

“John’s dead, Cas,” Sam finally said in a flat tone. “Died roughly four hours ago from a heart attack. Between you and me, I feel nothing about it. I hated him. I can’t mourn the loss of a man who wanted to kill my brother.”

“My condolences nonetheless,” Castiel said, wondering why his heart was suddenly taking light leaps. No one in his life thus far had contributed to him becoming entirely enlightened by their deaths, except for the parents, maybe: the Novaks.

“I think his heart attack was brought on by Adam running to Scotland to be with Lacey. The Duke’s wife. You heard the story, right?”

“I did,” Castiel was impressed by the eldest Winchester’s bold move to elope into the arms of a married woman. “So, what now?”

Sam chuckled. “Well, Adam isn’t going to be the next king, that’s for sure. Your soul mate is next in line. And he’s going to come and get you if you don’t get your sexy ass down here first.”

Soul mate.

The same description used by Annalise on a prior occasion that could possibly be the worst experience he ever entertained in his life.

“And your mother?” Castiel tried to ignore Sam’s words but he couldn’t. He was elated and terrified and nervous at the same time. “Isn’t she still the Queen? That right is still hers.”

“Mom can’t do it alone. Believe me I think she can but as soon as the funeral is over, she’s made plans to retreat to Scotland to live with her sister. For how long, I have no idea. But parliament is prepping already and talking about it.”

“I can just imagine the hysteria occurring now. The chaos. The Press Secretary office must be in a frenzy.” Castiel noticed Whiskers slinking in the shadows by the bookcase as if she was eavesdropping.

“Cas, Dean is officially a Prince Regent. Can you imagine?” Sam seemed more enthusiastic about it. “Everything he has ever wanted; he can get now. And that includes you, you lucky bastard.”

But could he really? And if Dean could get everything his heart desired; what was that? Did any of it include what they had? Had.

Castiel stared at the television now bringing live coverage of the BREAKING NEWS of the King’s death. And he felt nothing but hatred for the man the force that caused strife and so much pain in both their lives was now dulled to nothing but a blip in history.

“Will you come and get your Prince?” Sam asked afterwards, eager and hopeful. “Cas? Will you come back to London and fight through the bushes to get to him? He needs you to save him. He needs his Prince Charming to chop down those thorns, open the glass coffin and plant one on his lips. You need to wake him up from his sleep. Will you do it?”

But he couldn’t provide a reply.

Castiel kept staring at the email on his screen the next morning and wondered whether Sam was behind it. Whether Sam had actually pulled a few strings to achieve this outcome.

Good news, team!

It’s your favorite boss here, the sexy one with the weirdly attractive brows.

Allow me to introduce our recently appointed NEWS EDITOR, no other than Castiel Novak!

He will be assigned to the London office for four months and afterwards he will decide whether he will stay or come back to New York.

Personally, I think that he will find the job in London to be a new start in life.

Join me in congratulating him!

“The fucking nerve,” Castiel rocked back in his chair just as Morales peeked in with a wide grin.

Was it everyone’s deliberate choice to intervene in his sordid life all of a sudden? Back when he was living quite gloriously, ramped up on a life of crazy slogans on t-shirts and awfully tight jeans, everybody stared and lamented on what an enigma he was. But now they were all coming in with praises or condolences as if Castiel died.

“Congratulations, you hairless bastard.” Coming in and closing the door, Morales couldn’t help himself. The man was constantly a grinding reminder of Chevy Chase from Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. “The news must have your breasts so perky now.”

Castiel scowled and gestured at the computer screen. “He didn’t even consult with me. The bastard.”

“I heard that somebody asked for you specifically from the Royal Familia,” Morales perched himself on the edge of the desk. “I wonder if it’s your boyfriend. The Prince.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” The term was so glorifying and yet so excruciating.

“Well you can hook him up with me then. Dean has always been my man crush. The things I would do to a hunk like him…”

Groaning, Castiel squeezed his forehead in frustration. “Get out.”

“That, my friend, is you being a bitch because you need to get laid. I can’t believe you were so close to Dean and you didn’t screw him when you had the chance.”

“Call me old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned, my ass,” Morales rose up and shook his head as if terribly disappointed. He was smiling though from getting under Castiel’s skin as usual. “Judging from those photos of him in tight jeans, he’s packing. I heard he has a nine-inch monster.” He measured the size between two palms that appeared so tempting to blue eyes.

“I’m calling security,” Castiel swallowed hard and reached for the phone.

“Speaking of monsters, I’d like to see yours before you go,” Morales folded his arms.

“Get…out,” Castiel demanded, scowling deeply but thoroughly missing Zachariah’s assistant’s humor.

“I’m so aroused, Mister Novak!” Morales pulled open the door and cried loudly into the cluster of cubicles outside, “you’re…so big. Give it to me. Oh! Harder!”

“Jesus Christ.”

Castiel rubbed his forehead in shame and felt terribly alone when the door closed, leaving him all by himself to dwell in his thoughts of Dean and what was concealed inside of his jeans. And just because he couldn’t help himself, guilty curiosity got the best of him. But instead of using the company’s network to do his dirty deeds, he laid it all on mobile data.

DEAN WINCHESTER IN TIGHT JEANS

This time though, Google did not disappoint and there Castiel sat in awe, totally embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of running the search ages ago because the photos colored in all the parts that were blurred in his dreams. The awfully tight black jeans when the Prince was out partying, when he was dancing on tables and having a wild time.

He was packing.

And for the umpteenth time since their first heated conversation, since the feelings became more evident, Castiel felt himself becoming terribly turned on at work, terrible because of how painful it was to sit there in his chair, feeling his cock straining in his pants, as no other than Zachariah came tumbling in with a gleeful expression. And terrible because he realized that he hadn’t had sex in ten goddamn years.

Maybe all of that contributed to making rash decisions and possibly was a small part of it, very small as compared to uprooting Whiskers from her habitat. But the very next day, Castiel jumped on the bandwagon with the crazy certainty of moving to London.

Permanently.

“Until further notice,” Ruby said, showing up at his apartment on a Wednesday morning. She grinned as they started packing books into boxes. “You bought the carrier for the pussy, right?” her maniacal laughter filled the air afterwards. “The pussy puss. So, so soft.”

“I did,” he kept eyeing her with the pile of books. They were too precious and he felt as if Ruby was violating each copy with her tainted fingers. “And the apartment?”

Holding up a copy of Pride and Prejudice, she winked at him. “Sorted. You’re not too far from where you were staying. Right in Baker Street. Hey, guess who I saw yesterday and he said hi to me. And no,” studying those widened blue eyes. “It wasn’t him. No one has seen him for ages.”

Castiel returned to packing the suits he bought not too long ago from JC Penny. He stumbled upon his graphic t-shirts and blinked slowly at them. Then tugging out the blue one, Castiel tenderly opened it up and stared at the three words that held so much meaning.

I’m Mister Darcy.

Touching the material softly, the tears stung but were held back and he was more anxious to get going than to dwell on the past. But the memories were so damn painfully beautiful, so tragic. And deciding that those memories were to stay with him forever, he packed his shirts into the suitcase.

“Who?” naturally any kind of attempts to continue conversation with Ruby resulted in a full-fledged debate these days.

But she seemed to be in good spirits. “Sam. He was in Baker Street hanging around I guess. And it was like so awkward when I said hi to him, knowing that we shagged. I mean, he has the most glorious cock ever.” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. “But I’m not into cocks at the moment.”

“Please God, save me from this hellish demon,” he whispered in prayer.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” Ruby kept on going, fueled by her innermost pleasures.

“No!” he cried hoarsely, fumbling with the clothes in the suitcase. “I will not ask you about such a thing. Leave me alone.”

“I know what’s wrong with you. But I’m not going to say it.”

“What’s wrong with me? Hmm?” he reared his head and glared at her pawing through his books. “And don’t you dare crease any of them.”

“Or else what?” Ruby’s eyes were on fire. Her smile was wickedly amusing. “You’ll start throwing random Austen lines at me? Thy. Thee and thus?”

“For your information, she never used those terms.” Castiel sighed and returned to hauling a suitcase of clothes towards the front door. “What’s wrong with me? I’m curious to know.”

“You’re a forty year old virgin, Cas and Hanna doesn’t count because she never showed you a good time. Listen, there are guys that I know that could really show you a good time if you let them,” Ruby eyed him cautiously. “There’s this guy, British accent and all. He’s a gentleman and into poetry. I bet I can make a match if things don’t work out with you and—”

“Don’t,” Castiel suddenly warned in a bitter tone, shocking himself in the process as tears blinded his eyes. Then after realizing the magnitude of his threat and how Ruby stared back in awe, he returned to fumbling with a bunch of clothes inside a suitcase that meant nothing to him in that moment.

“Look,” Ruby sighed and softened, moving around the books slowly into a box, “I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean that, and sure I’m being selfish but maybe all I want is to see you happy and at this point, I totally support you going back to London to try to be with Dean. But suppose it doesn’t work out, Cas? Suppose he just moved on and you’re stuck way behind?”

Remaining silent but glaring at tears slipping onto folded clothes, Castiel gingerly bit his lips and tried to stop his chest from trembling.

“Anyway, I’ll help you try to get him back, even if I have to drive up to Northampton and bang on his damn door.” For a long time the two of them said nothing to each other, and then slowly, she rose up, approached him, nudged his thigh.

He sat on the ground still, head bent as if in prayer and Ruby lightly settled next to Castiel’s side. Then wrapping her arm around him, they hugged for a long time whilst he cried, wondering if he was heading towards a dead end or the top of a waterfall.

It took forever to make arrangements, three days and a half. Then Ruby helped him to make the hardest decision by trading in his suits and a few other items to ease up the shipping process. She promised that they would get their hands on even better clothing in London. But letting go of his life was so difficult in the end.

Castiel tucked himself into the plane next to Ruby the evening they departed from New York, and silently cried again. It seemed as if he would never stop shedding an abundance of tears. Over the past three months, nothing terrified him more than falling into a state that resembled a coma.

He couldn’t believe that saying goodbye would be so difficult. The place that he called home for over twenty years was now being left behind. After running away from home, after deciding that he wouldn’t go into the family business, he had spent all his energy building a life from the bottom.

There were times when Castiel would just remember the awful days before he was eighteen, when he lived in the Novak mansion in Los Angeles and attended the finest schools.

They were filthy rich, could get anything they ever wanted; him, Luci, Michael, Gabriel and Anna. Every single thing; cars, fancy clothes, the best of the best.

But then there was that one fight that rose above all the rest he had with his father.

Of course, Gabriel managed to step in and part the two of them. But Castiel was flaring at eighteen. He was so full of rage when their mother came in calmly; Naomi Novak and asked him to stop behaving like a juvenile delinquent.

Then after moving to New York with Michael and Gabriel’s help, Castiel remembered walking into an apartment that was bare except for a refrigerator and microwave. From there, he worked so hard to add every little thing that mattered. At one point, there were three jobs; the newspapers, filing in a hospital and tutoring two kids on Literature.

He never ever thought that in a few years’ time, every single thing in that apartment would be traded back for money and he would be moving to the home of Jane Austen to try to desperately find a way to be with his Prince.

“I think you kind of have it mixed up,” Ruby said along the way. She tugged off her headphones and jerked her chin at the phone in her lap. “As I’m watching the film. The 2005 one. I think Dean’s a lot like Darcy. He swayed Bingley who is Sam, away from me who is nothing like Jane, by the way.” She started ticking them off on her fingers.

Providing nothing but a nod, Castiel hugged himself and tried to drift off into many scenarios of meeting Dean again. What would he say to him? And would the Prince even look at him the same way he used to; with so much love and admiration in those green eyes?

“He asked you to dance at the Ball, right? Darcy asked Lizzie and she turned him down. Not forgetting that Dean lives in the same place Darcy lived in—”

“A replica,” Castiel said, inwardly agreeing with her on the other points.

“It’s the same crib!” she stared at him incredulously.

“It’s not. The original is called Chatsworth House, located in Derbyshire. Dean built his castle to resemble Chatsworth because of how much he adores Austen.”

“Like I care about that. Anyway,” she flicked her hair and reached for the can of Pepsi, “He practically lives there. Annalise is his best friend and she kind of looks like Georgiana. You freaking…walked in on her playing the piano and it’s the exact scene. Dude, you’re living inside this movie right now.”

“Dear God,” Castiel sighed, stared out the window and couldn’t deny her truths. But the honesty hurt more than healed his woes. He had been so captivated by the entirety of his own heartbreak and woes, that the resemblance to the famous plot had gone by unnoticed.

“His dad going to my aunt’s house to tell you off. Classic Catherine de Burger.”

“de Bourgh,” he was barely listening to her though.

“He’s not really arrogant like Darcy though. Dean’s more like Lizzie with the way he behaves. Like playful, smiling, lively. Whilst you’re more like Darcy; serious, quiet, soft spoken, stiff—”

“I’m not stiff!” he heard that part of their conversation clearly though. Their eyes met and his widened, trying to implore reason.

“Plus, you always look like you’re going to bite someone’s head off if they talk to you. You’re kind of intimidating the way you look at people too. Like the way you’re looking at me now.” She laughed and playfully punched his arm.

“You’re actually looking at Pride and Prejudice,” he remarked calmly, trying to appear less stiff. “That’s a start to a beautiful recovery path for you.”

“Oh, shut up, you Austen tug.”

By the time the plane landed at Heathrow, she managed to devour the entire BBC’s version of Emma and asked a ton of questions, which were the main topics of conversation all the way to Baker Street.

But Castiel couldn’t ignore the blatant refusal of London to mourn the King’s death because everyone was up and about and in cheerful spirits. Shopping, having a spot of midday tea in cafes, laughing gaily, and tipping their hats to each other. And as the two of them settled Castiel into his apartment for the rest of the afternoon, he kept feeling like there was a kind of warm energy in the air.

Almost as if the place had become a new kind of home; a place where his heart leapt and soared.

“Feels good, huh?” Ruby noticed him gazing out the window as Westfordshire Palace loomed with a black flag billowing at the topmost tier. “Being near to him like he’s just so close now instead of a million miles away.”

“It’s been too long,” Castiel grabbed a bottle of wine and offered her a glass. “I can’t believe that I’ve done something like this. It’s not in my nature to make these big changes. I’m a creature of habitat. I don’t like change.”

“But love requires change, you douche.” She sipped the merlot and joined him on the couch. “It’s the reason why loving him changed you so much. At first you were like…aw nah, that’s not love. I’m totally not gay. Then when the feelings started hitting you, you were like shit! But on a serious note though.” Ruby tucked her head onto his shoulder. “You two would make the most adorable couple ever. I can’t wait to see that kiss.”

Castiel groaned. Parting his copy of Jane Eyre, he started from the beginning. It had been many years since he last read the book.

“What will you say to him,” Ruby asked after a while, “when you see him. Have you thought about it?”

He did give the topic much thought about their meeting; too much thought. “I think I will be too speechless in his presence; I wouldn’t know what to say. From the moment I see him, I’ll come as close to fainting like a fan who is seeing his idol for the first time.”

“That is so cute!” she eyed the opened suitcase in the corner by the fireplace. Then the box that contained other one and two oddities. “Cas, I have something to tell you. It’s like…huge. And I wanted to tell you so long ago but I didn’t know what to say or how to say it.”

“Out with it,” he kept his arm wrapped around her shoulder and stared into those dark eyes that suddenly became too mellow. “But I must warn you that if you’re about to tell me that you want to sleep with me. Then I’ll have to disappoint by admitting that there is only one person on this entire earth that is reserved for that privilege.”

“It’s not that,” her tone grew softer and it was a tone that only resurrected when she was deeply affected by emotions. “Cas, Meg and I kissed.”

He blinked in shock, sat up as stiff as a poker and stared. “Christ almighty! You’re not kidding, are you?” And when her gaze lowered as if she was ashamed, he sighed, honestly not knowing what to feel or whether to pass judgment. “Ruby, how did that happen? I need details.”

“She left her girlfriend about a month ago and was ruined,” Ruby began, her hands animated and it was also something Castiel noticed immediately. Whenever she gestured a lot, she was deeply affected by the topic. “Then we hung out at a bar and got shit-faced. And we danced to this stupid…fucking song by Cascada. And it just…happened. Like we both kissed each other at the same time.”

“Well, apparently London is trying to fuck us both, isn’t it?”

Ruby couldn’t help it. He watched her tumble off the couch, curl up on the floor and erupt in a fit of giggles. Perhaps she was losing her marbles. Nevertheless, he joined her, pushing his black frame glasses up his nose and remarking on the beauty of drowning in good humor.

“Do you love her?” Castiel asked after a while, as they were both catching their breaths from laughing hysterically.

Ruby sat up, reached for the wine and drank heavily from the bottle. “I’m crazy for her, Cas.” She dabbed at her lips and shrugged. “We are two demons alike. She has this leather fetish and her pink Miata is the cutest shit ever.”

“Have you been in her pink Miata?” his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Have you actually seen under the hood?”

She eyed him with fire lit behind her pair. “Not as yet. I’m waiting on you to get into Dean’s pants. I heard he’s amazing in bed. He’s also a biter. And he’s an A grade kisser on all areas of the body.”

“Ruby, don’t,” he croaked, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as if trying to distract himself from the thoughts of the other man.

“He’s also a top.” When Castiel swallowed hard, she winked. “But I know that once my Cassie Cas gets the hang of it, he’s going to be riding his Prince into the sunset. Hey! Don’t touch my hair!” she tried to wrestle him onto the ground whilst he grabbed for her long dark locks.

The next day, he prepped for the funeral by wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, and black skinny jeans under his khaki trench coat. Running his fingers through his hair, Castiel admitted that he looked wild, and very wide eyed. And he was entirely bewildered by the possibility of meeting Dean.

If he met him, what on earth would he say to the Prince Regent?

Hi? I missed you so much?

Should he hug him? Dear god, no. Castiel thought that kind of gesture would be too forward. No. He would stand a considerable amount of inches away and try to appear composed.

But when he joined the group of spectators in front of Saint John’s Cathedral, nothing miraculous happened. There weren’t the spread of a rainbow and a colorful mirage cast on the scene to prep for the most amazing moment to come when the two of them collided.

In fact, the only glimpse he managed to capture of Dean was when the Winchester brothers carried the polished casket into the church. And he remembered feeling like his chest was vacated of organs and replaced by a lightness that resembled the coolness from applying vapor rubs.

Standing by Ruby’s side, Castiel reminisced on when Dean pleaded that he give in to them being together and there were tears in his beautiful green eyes. Begging. Promising that they would try to make things work and that Dean was confident they could make it. And then Castiel had turned him down because of valid reasons.

But he kept thinking about how far along they would be by now, more than two months after. How they could have kept that bond, stayed in touch, wait out the reign of John and persevered nevertheless.

Castiel felt so terrible from realizing that he was the one who closed the door without locking it. And more than ever, Dean was willing to leave it wide open.

“Shit, they’re coming out,” Ruby hoisted her Nikon up and the two of them shoved their way through the reporters. “Here, hold this. I want a good shot of the three of them together.”

He felt for her bag, all eyes glued to the three men dressed in black suits. Then Castiel stopped breathing when he finally managed to capture the entirety of Dean’s profile emerging from the door of the church where few family members were gathered.

For the first time in three months, his heart sighed. It wasn’t just the Prince’s appearance but so much more than the black pinstripe suit, the polished shoes, windswept hair and a face that had been sculpted by an angel.

No one on earth ever successfully managed to catch his eyes the way Dean always did.

Castiel melted as Sam tugged on his brother’s arm then jerked his chin at the group of reporters and without a smile on his face, his older brother followed. Adam, noticing that the two of them drifted off, decided that he would escape the questions about his affair. And as the two Winchesters approached, the reporters started firing.

“Dean, how do you feel now that your father is dead?”

“How does it feel to be Prince Regent? Are you anxious to be King?”

“Sam, is Eileen in good health? Is it a girl or boy?”

“Are you glad the King is dead?”

“Did he really die from a heart attack or was he murdered?”

“How was Scotland, Dean?”

“Are you happy that you’re finally freed from the wrath of your father?”

“Oh, would you just all shut the fuck up!” Ruby cried crossly, glaring around at the reporters who grew silent immediately. “Show some damn respect!”

However, her outburst was the dying point for Castiel because it pinpointed who she was and the identity of her companion. And he hated the revealing moment because everyone around them, including Penny from the BBC and Terry from The Daily Mirror turned their attention into their direction.

The actuality of the man with the Ocean Eyes standing right beside them was so stunning. And he could see it in their eyes.

Castiel could decipher the questions burning inside their minds; asking after his disappearance and what had happened to the sordid love affair between the Prince and the Reporter. Where did he disappear to? Could it be the next best scandal to scoop up and gossip about?

Sam, from the moment he noticed Castiel, sent him a toothy grin that was reminiscent of his clownish personality. After all, the two of them had no bounds in regards to a brotherly love that needed to be treasured for good reasons.

But Dean…

Boldly, he broke away from his brother and approached the reporters. Then, he stared at Castiel with wide emerald eyes; a look that meant so much between them because of the substantial destruction of distance. The unfairness of their circumstances. Anger. Then hurt, so much hurt in Dean’s eyes. And there was just about three feet of space between them that felt like a million miles still.

Castiel stared back with parted lips and his chest heaved because his entire world was turned upside down and muted and the flashes of the cameras, everything around him died down and went into slow motion. He was drowning and dying between every single second and he wanted to say so many things.

I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry I left but I’m here now. There’s nothing more valuable in my life than you. I’m still absolutely falling in love with you.

He couldn’t believe how wounded Dean appeared and Castiel could see so many cracks behind those green eyes and could feel how broken the Prince was. But he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even climb over the barricade to reach him because Dean didn’t want to be reached in that moment.

Whilst everyone was taking pictures of him, the Prince’s eyes welled up with tears; a sight that ripped open the wounds in Castiel’s heart and forced him to bleed from the pain. Because Dean was looking at him as if he couldn’t ever forgive him, as if he never would forget how he walked away.

Then before the whole world, Dean said something that was inaudible whilst staring at the man who was reaching for him with everything he had through their gaze. And after reaching up to dab at the tears on his cheek, he backed away. Slowly at first, dramatically in all its exactitude, dragging his feet along and then Sam sent Castiel an apologetic look and followed after his brother.

“That was…beautiful,” Ruby said in his ear whilst Penny fought her way towards them. “Fucking…beautiful.” She collected her bag and laughed.

“Then why do I feel like my heart just died?” Castiel asked, watching Dean climb into the Bentley without looking back. The crowds were rearing their heads to get a good look of the source of the commotion behind the barricade containing the media personnel.

“No, that’s the feeling of your heart waking up. Come on,” she tugged him through the crowd so that no one could get to them for questions.

“What are you talking about? He looked at me like he hates me.”

“That’s not hate, Cas,” Ruby tossed him a helmet and hopped onto her bike. He climbed on behind her, staring and confused. “You’re just swimming in guilt. That’s Dean being totally shocked that you actually came back for him. Didn’t you hear what he said?”

“What?” he held onto her as they sped away, washed over with pain and anxiousness.

“He said your name,” she cried as the wind whipped their faces. “When he was looking at you. Dean said ‘Cas, you came back to me’. In front of everyone. That’s why that bitch Penny was coming for us. The BBC will eat that shit up. You wait and see.”

Chapter Text

Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.

JANE AUSTEN, Emma

Dean was quite aware of the capacity of his heart to love, to be beaten down many times by others that came and went but never completely closing off to the actuality of more because there was always enough room inside of him to love.

In terms of Castiel though, he was deservingly shattered to a point where Dean could not understand what caused it all and why Castiel had chosen to give up on them although he loved him so much.

He could have seen the world in those wide blue eyes.

The kind of eyes that spoke volumes from years of being alone and fighting from the many injustices and awful prejudices linked from his parents, to his failed marriage and then nothing except being in his own company without anyone ever loving him back.

But Dean spent days trying to figure out what he did wrong. Many nights he never slept from blaming himself for everything. Then there were days when he couldn’t even look at his face in the mirror because the person staring back at him was the person he began to hate.

After all, why did everyone leave him in the end except his family? Why was his castle so empty and bare when people kept complimenting his heart that he was their favorite Prince they loved to dote on and he was so special and adored since he was born?

He felt like Lisa struck him with a lifetime of bad luck and because he wronged her, the cards on the table all turned against his happiness, and every single time afterwards when someone fell in love with him, the feeling was never really mutual. It was fleeting in one minute because of his desire to be satisfied with pleasure and then they were packing up and leaving.

But Castiel…

Castiel wasn’t like anyone else and he never would be like any of his exes. And maybe that is why Dean constantly felt terrible over the whole tragedy from the first time they met to when he was given up like a worthless experience, was told that they would never work and that no matter what, he wasn’t worthy enough for Castiel to stick around and try.

Dean wanted more than ever to do anything for Castiel in those days to follow if he chose to give up his fears. He would have taken him into his arms and kissed and loved him every single second of every day, given him everything he deserved and shown him what was missing for so long. He would have done all of that if Castiel only gave him the chance to.

But he walked away.

Three months. Ninety-nine days. Spent silently inside the castle walls that felt like a prison. Crying into his pillows and drinking heavily for one of those months, then overusing his painkillers and suffering from the lapses in his medication because most days, he just really and truly lost track of time.

Some days felt like years and he would lie there staring at the tapestry in his bed chambers, listlessly, silently and dying slowly. The maids came and went, bringing him food he couldn’t even stomach and occasionally there were flashes of his mother’s face, pleading and urging him to wake up. Then Sam came around and talked endlessly, trying to get him to talk back but none of it worked.

In July, Dean started a crazy routine that involved over-excessive exercise like trying to kill his punching bag in the gym on the bottom floor, lifting weights and doing more than twenty-five laps around Northampton. And he began to binge eat like crazy, which pretty much meant that by the end of the thirty-one days, he more than compensated for the weight loss from the months prior.

He kept going at it well into September, stopped drinking though and picked up his medication after a terrible manic episode forced him to rip some priceless paintings to shreds. In that moment that perhaps lasted for five days and felt like a minute, Dean found the window where he and Castiel suffered through their first argument and he completely sealed it off.

The room where Castiel turned him down, Dean went into it and hammered on the walls until he was discovered by Sam; broken and dead inside. Then when his brother tried to comfort him, he flung the hammer out of the window and dented the Bentley’s roof. And after having a physical altercation with Sam, Dean enacted a strict regime of sticking to his medication like it was a life or death situation.

The weirdest part of it all though, was that it didn’t really feel like heartbreak. Lisa broke his heart before and he remembered the pain inside his chest; the ripping feeling that gnawed away the happiness. But when Castiel left him, the many days and nights afterwards was filled with the simplicity of painfully waiting and holding onto that sliver of hope.

A heart couldn’t break if there was an abundance of hope, could it?

But when the hope started to fade away, he replaced it with hatred and anger, lots of anger that blackened his mind because anger was the only thing he thought of when John’s haughty face floated up from the pits of hell.

John did the worst thing by scaring away the man he loved away. And because of his paranoia seeping in through the cracks, Dean started to direct that anger towards Castiel. But that small episode though only lasted one week that felt like a day and it wasn’t even significant.

Rowena told him to feel every single emotion and to live it until he felt raw inside.

She was good at opening him up and examining the pain but was even better at stitching up those wounds and mending him. Just as she predicted, the pain and the anger he felt towards Castiel faded away like a mist and the overwhelming feeling of love came back like a tidal wave.

Sam was the one and only person who believed no matter what that Castiel would come back to him. Even during the third month when Dean felt like all hope was lost and he would have to bury his feelings in one-night stands; something to get by because he honestly felt like nothing would ever bring them together again.

Now as he jogged up the staircase, his two security details armed and following close behind, Dean’s heart was beating like a ritual drum.

He kept remembering the day before when he thought he saw Castiel in the crowd and honestly believed it was an apparition, possibly a side-effect from his medications. And when Dean finally realized that Castiel actually came back, something crazy started to happen inside of his body.

It was like dipping his entire soul into a warm bath, plucking out the thorns one by one and stretching his wings again.

There he was now, standing before Room 34 on the third floor wondering if coming to the apartment was the right thing to do.

The air was contaminated with the smell of strong sour coffee at one in the afternoon and a cat meowing loudly. An old lady hobbling towards him wearing tinted glasses and dragging a bag of laundry. And the A.C unit down the hall rattling loudly like a monster.

It was a shitty place to stay in, that much Dean determined and as soon as he returned home, he would start making arrangements for a better room somewhere with the view of the river Thames because Castiel loved that view. Dean remembered the simple things Castiel liked and he always would.

Holding the bouquet of fresh flowers consisting of lilacs, pastel carnations and orchids, he felt the nervousness wash over him. And Dean turned to consider the two men who took up their position by the door.

“Wish me luck,” he pleaded.

They nodded at him, offered a smile and then turned themselves into flies on the wall.

God, he was shaking. Dean was so nervous and couldn’t even breathe properly. He couldn’t even knock at first because his hands were trembling. And he felt as if a panic attack was coming on, so naturally, the three steps that Rowena provided about twenty years ago kicked in.

Close your eyes and slowly breathe in.

Hold it for four seconds.

Then slowly breathe out and open your eyes.

It managed to calm him down a lot more than his previous state so, licking his lips and feeling hopeful, Dean knocked three times and whilst he waited, one of the security details glanced over.

“Boss, if he turns you down, we got ya.”

The other one snorted. “You mean to tell me there is anyone on this planet that would turn his Royal Highness down?”

Both of them stiffened when the doorknob rattled.

At first, Dean was puzzled to find Ruby staring back at him, dressed in a blue tank top with black shorts and her hair was messed up, almost as if she fell out of bed.

“Jesus,” she was completely awake after two seconds. “Look what the cat dragged upstairs.”

Dean blinked. “Nice to see you too,” he said and cleared his throat. “Is, uh…” then the realization kicked in that he hadn’t said that name in a long time, his heart leapt. “Is Cas in there?”

“Nah,” those brown eyes fell onto the bouquet and Ruby seemed impressed. “And now I’m hating myself for sending him with Meg to shop for clothes.”

When Dean appeared quite downcast from the news, she sighed. The scrutiny of his disposition spoke volumes.

Dean contained so much hope in his eyes, Ruby was consumed with happiness to know that this was it. This was what she always wanted and just when the damn moment arrived, she was responsible for spoiling it.

“Well don’t stand there looking all handsome, your Royal Highness,” she smiled at him. “Come in and wait.”

After he protested against it though, she was left with no choice but to reach out and yank him into the apartment. The security details followed immediately but when they noted that there wasn’t a threat in sight apart from Ruby, approval was sought from the boss and then they returned to their post by the door.

“If he could see you now, he would die,” she went to the couch and plopped onto it, all the while, tracking where his emerald eyes followed and also, admiring his attire.

Dean was wearing a long-sleeved maroon colored shirt and his arms were toned more than ever. The muscles in his back rippled when he turned around to scrutinize the apartment which was completely lacking in anything but warmth. And she tried not to admire Dean’s ass and crotch in his pair of black jeans but failed miserably.

“What?” he stared at her and frowned.

“Nothing,” Ruby eyed him up and down. “Well, okay. I’ll say it. Dean. No, your Royal Highness, you are one fine motherfucker.”

“Thanks,” he found himself smiling. “Which isn’t a bad thing?”

Dean confessed to himself though. The first thing he thought after seeing Ruby at the door was that Castiel had moved on and then that sinking feeling in his gut wondered how long he was attached to Ruby.

Did it take him more than a month? Maybe two?

Was it instantaneous after Castiel realized that loving Dean would only lead him into a dead end?

It was a result of two things; the manner of her revealing attire and the fear that crept into his nightmares for weeks now. Castiel was so damn good looking and so perfect, anyone would find him appealing enough and Ruby was a woman that posed no difficulties in the match.

“You and Cas,” Dean asked because he would suffer from not knowing. “Are you two…”

Immediately she frowned. “Oh, god, no,” Ruby shook her head quickly. “Although for many years I craved him, after he fell in love with you, it was over. Well, not over over. But there’s no attraction there. Not that he’s not attractive. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. But we’ve become the best of friends through all of this.”

“You mean…him and…me.” Dean was relaxed a little more but still consumed with nerves.

“Yeah, so what’s happening here?” she gestured at him, “you’re not going to sit down with a commoner like me because you’re the next King?”

He would have preferred to leave but Dean realized that no matter what, he really needed to see Castiel more than anything else and he would wait. But whilst doing so, it meant that he would have to suffer in the company of a woman he wronged many years ago.

“Who’s Meg?” he asked after choosing a chair across from her.

“The reporter who floored Adam with that article that exposed his affair. And no, Dean. Geez. She’s not Cassie’s girlfriend. Look, you want me to say it?” Ruby sat up and stared at him. “It’s been three frigging months and he’s even more in love with you. So, relax.”

When Dean breathed out a long sigh, eyes fluttering close, she shook her head and still had no idea what his life was like and what he suffered through to get where he was in the moment to still be alive.

“Why didn’t you call him?” Ruby asked after a while. “He was literally dying over there, crazy hurt because the hardest decision he made was to leave you. I spent the first month with him, trying to get through to him. All because he couldn’t be without you.”

“He didn’t want to be with me,” Dean said although tears burned his eyes. He held the bouquet between his thighs and the scent brought on a slight migraine. “I tried so hard to make him stay but he didn’t want to.”

“Why the hell did you even start this in the first place?”

“Huh?” Dean stared back, wondering why his brain felt like he was running on overdrive.

“The whole chasing game by pulling that Billie Eilish stunt and then coming after him when you know what your father was like. You can’t sit there and tell me to my face that you thought it would work. You kept chasing Cas like everything was so easy when all the time you’re the one who should have known that John would try everything to keep you apart.”

Dean swallowed and sighed. He was being hit with the truth from a woman who was fierce enough to deliver it.

“He’s a grown ass man, Dean,” Ruby said after there was no response. “Duh, he had to make the hardest decision for you both because you were busy living inside a fairytale.”

“Just…don’t,” he said shaking his head. Dean could feel the pain welling up inside of his chest. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“But you have to go back if you want to meet him where he is right now. You have to know what it was like for him when you weren’t here because people like me and Meg; we hugged him through it. And it’s not fair that we did it alone.”

“So, you think that I’m selfish because I stayed away when he asked me to,” Dean stated in a clipped tone.

“He had every right to ask you to stay away. You know why?” Ruby leaned in closer to him and her eyes were fiery. “Because you were trying to set him up.”

“What the hell?” Dean sat back and appeared stunned. “What are you even talking about? Everything I did was because I love him.”

“Then how the hell could you love him and ask him just like that, in less than a week, to give up his entire life to be with you?” She was angry and hurt. “Admit it, Dean. You would have never done the same thing. Never in a million years. That’s the thing about you royals and why there is always a problem with your type marrying common people like us. It’s because you like your castles and your fancy cars and your money. And you try to find someone who will be stupid enough to give up their lives to have what you have. But what you will never understand is that everything we have, as simple as it seems to you, we work damn hard to get it and it means a lot to us.”

Dean inhaled deeply and diverted his eyes to the window.

He was becoming terribly flustered by her boldness but she would never understand that he had been more than willing to give up everything to be with her friend. After all, wasn’t he the one who begged for them to do whatever it took to be together, to run away and go anywhere whilst leaving it all behind?

“Now, guess what,” she sat back, folded her arms and was enjoying the effect her words possessed on Dean. “He just walked away from his entire life that he built in New York from the time he got kicked out of his parents’ house twenty-two years ago.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes showed nothing but utmost amazement because he couldn’t have heard correctly.

“His apartment. His clothes, flat screen tv. The mini cellar where he kept his wines. Cases of them. His comfy bed he slept in for years. A lot of his books. His view of New York City. He gave everything up to come back here. Just to be with you.” Ruby sighed and stared out the window on her right. “I hope you’re happy now. Cas doesn’t do well with change but none of it matters because he’s batshit crazy in love with you.”

For over fifteen minutes, the two of them said nothing to each other. Dean kept checking his watch and dreaded the next words to come out of Ruby’s mouth. And when a white fluffy cat with blue eyes finally stretched whilst coming out of the bedroom, his heart instantly melted.

“Who is this?” Dean immediately rose from the chair and slowly drifted towards the cat as every single emotion in his body calmed down.

“That’s Whiskers,” Ruby said eyeing how soft Dean became. “Cas brought her here from New York. She’s the love of his life. So, get used to it.”

He slowly eased his way in to earn enough respect by scratching behind her ears. Then when Whiskers softened up to him, Dean collected her and sat on the floor. And after running his fingers through her thick white fur, tears welled up in his eyes, tears that he was holding back from sitting across from Ruby and listening to her whip him with the most hurtful truths.

But he kept his back to the her and whilst he cried, Whiskers bumped his nose and reached up with those soft front paws to touch his tears.

It was almost as if she could detect how wounded he was. Animals always latched onto him because of his pain. His cats never left his side during the years and more so within those three months and Whiskers was no different.

It was so easy for him to hold and hug her and when he thought of Castiel doing the same thing, keeping her close to his side, Dean didn’t want to let go, burying his face into soft white fur.

“I’m sorry for breaking up what you and Sam had,” he confessed after drying his tears. Whiskers curled up on his lap and started to flex her claws whilst purring.

“It wasn’t all your doing, Dean,” Ruby was admiring the way the cat bonded with him. “John threatened me just like he threatened Cas. Yup,” she nodded after he offered her a stunned look. “Came to my apartment and told me to give up or else I’d disappear. And then he told Sam all the bad things he could come up with about me and my past.”

“I have never hated someone as much as I hated him,” Dean said stiffly.

It began to rain lightly beyond the window. The sky dulled to a soft gray.

“He made your life a living hell,” she sympathized. The two of them looked at each other. “Look, I’m sorry about hitting you with the stuff I said earlier. I just felt like you needed to know.”

“It’s all fine,” he said, bumping noses with Whiskers again and smiling. “I’m glad that Cas has a friend like you. Especially when I wasn’t there for him. I wish I had the same thing.”

“You have Sam.”

“Yeah, well Sam was there for most of it. But you know me. I like pushing people away.”

Ruby smiled warmly. “I do the same thing. You know, back in the days when we used to hang out. You, me and Sam. I really liked you. Especially when you would throw those wild parties at the Davenport House. And there was all this booze and snacks and we would hit the lake at like 2 in the morning.”

The two of them laughed whilst the sound of the rain grew heavier on the world outside. Rising up, Ruby went to close the windows and she turned on some more lights.

“The good old days,” Dean shook his head. Whiskers was staring at Ruby as if she was a monster, her blue eyes as wide as saucers. “I don’t think she likes you very much.”

“It’s my laugh,” Ruby hissed back at the cat from across the room. “She loves you. She doesn’t even like Cas’ brothers; Gabe and Michael. I’ve never seen her like that with anyone else.”

“She senses my pain I guess.”

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Ruby said suddenly with saddened eyes. When he looked at her, she appeared wounded. “All the time I kept hating you because of what Cas was going through. But you’ve never had it easy. All the years of living in your own nightmare. Does it get like…really bad?”

“My mind?” he softened up to her as Whiskers pawed at his fingers playing lightly on the floor.

“Being bipolar.”

Dean sighed. “For most of the time when I was growing up, people thought that my dad’s abuse was the hardest part. But to be honest, what was going on inside my mind was too much already to make his threats insignificant. Sometimes, I would run a high or a low for two weeks straight. And the worst part for me is, when I’m having one of those, it feels like a really bad day.”

“Jesus,” she shook her head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like.”

“Yeah, and I don’t push people away willingly. My mind makes me. You know, it’s so hard to explain it to most people, that most times if I’m not careful, I have no control of my mind because if I skip my meds for two days, I can take a turn for the worst. I’ve had this crap for years and it never gets easy.”

“You remember that asshole Evan Tank? I punched his face in when Sam and I were together.”

“I remember him,” Dean was looking at her with a soft smile. “You made him loose some teeth and broke his nose.”

“Because he kept telling everyone that Sam had a nutcase for a brother,” Ruby said angrily. “He was ranting on and on about how you were fucked up in the head. And I just had to beat the shit out of him. Because I have honestly felt your struggle for so many years.”

Dean admitted in a soft tone as the streets of London were hammered with a heavy thunderstorm, “thanks for sticking up for me like that. No wonder Evan never came around again.” he laughed. “You are something.”

“I don’t like when people make fun of mental disorders,” Ruby said scowling. She settled into the chair and her eyes grew distant. “My mom suffered from post-partum depression and never ever recovered after. She did a lot of bad things because people kept telling her that she was fucked up.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Dean felt like the injustice attached to the topic was never something that he had the time or energy to dwell on because most of his time was spent on silent battles.

The two of them stayed quiet for a while and then when Whiskers let go and slinked into the kitchen, Dean got up.

He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think he’s coming back soon.”

“I’d give him a ring but he forgot his damn cellphone,” Ruby smiled back. “And knowing Meg, she’s probably going to take him to every damn store she can think of. And afterwards they’ll hit some café for snacks.”

Returning to the couch, Dean picked up the bouquet of flowers. He fingered the card with Castiel’s name and felt slightly disappointed.

After all, spending an entire morning trying to prep himself for their reunion after so long hadn’t been easy, now he needed to leave because it was almost four and his brother made him promise to meet up at Westfordshire to choose a name for the baby.

“He loves you so much, Dean,” Ruby rose up and came towards him. “Like, I’ve been around people who fell in love but I’ve never seen any of them struggle like he did. At first, he was so scared and in denial about his feelings. He couldn’t believe he was falling for a dude. Then he said,” and she laughed, “it hit him like the flu. All at once he was so smitten, he couldn’t turn it off. You’re lucky to have someone like him.”

“I know I am, Ruby,” Dean said softly, handing her the bouquet. “Will you?”

“I’ll leave it right here,” she rested it on the table. “So, when he comes in, it’ll be the first thing he sees. And you. Dean, don’t ever give up fighting. You’re a strong motherfucker.”

When she hugged him, Dean was entirely shocked but after one second, he realized that the moment was perfect because her hug soothed him. It made the situation bearable since he had to leave and they parted as friends, after all those years.

But just as the Bentley drove away from in front of the apartment complex, Castiel and Meg hopped out of a taxi, then dragging the bags up the stairs, they both let out heavy sighs after depositing their purchases by the door.

“Come with me, let’s go buy me some Chinese take-out,” Ruby pushed Meg’s leather jacket onto her as she was shrugging out of it. She tugged the other woman towards the door.

“But we already brought you a snack. Why are you touchy? You know it makes me tingly,” Meg smiled.

Castiel silently observed something secretive pass between them and he sighed. “Can you two be more obvious? You can kiss in front of me.” He picked up one of the bags containing his new shirts and appeared sullen. “I’m not exactly homophobic, am I?’

“He’s sad. We didn’t get to catch the Jane Austen store in time,” Meg told Ruby.

“Well, that mood will change soon. Let’s go!”

“What does that even mean?” Castiel yelled as the door closed behind them. Groaning, he toed off his boots and decided that the unpacking would be left for later.

First thing he needed was a glass of wine, and an hour on the couch then a shower. But it was only after he took the merlot from the kitchen counter and was returning with a glass, that he came across the bouquet.

Surely Ruby wasn’t so direct. She wasn’t the type who gifted him with fresh flowers, more like punches and hugs and wet kisses on his cheeks but this…

Castiel picked up the bouquet and sniffed it. It was so beautiful. The scent of the lilacs and orchids and pink carnations melted his heart, and carnations were his favorite flower. But then he spied the gold card attached to the plastic and with his fingers lightly caressing the soft petals, he found his name and started to read the note.

Cas,

I hope that you came back for me.

I feel like I’ve waited a thousand years already.

And I still completely and ardently love you.

Body and soul.

Yours always, as promised.

Dean.

He sank onto the chair.

There were no words.

Castiel’s knees weakened and he stared at the note whilst tears slipped down his cheeks, and he kept rereading Dean’s neat handwriting over and over again. As he savored the moment, he brought the card up to his nose and held on to it and there it was; the distinct smell of the man he loved more than anything in the world.

Dean still…loved him. Oh, god, he still wants me, Castiel thought to himself. After all this time, he kept his promise. He held on to me. He still…wants me. As much as I want him.

He remained stunned until Whiskers came over and hopped onto his lap. Castiel scooped her up and buried his face into her soft neck but when he caught an abundance of Dean’s perfume on her fur, he felt like his heart would explode.

Dean had been there in the apartment and he spent enough time to collect Whiskers and to hug her.

Dean had been waiting on him for three months and more.

And more than ever, Castiel couldn’t wait to see him again.

Chapter Text

You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago.”

JANE AUSTEN, Persuasion

Perhaps the most fatiguing part of those three months for both of them was the deletion of each other’s cell numbers from their mobiles.

At times when they did desire to pick up the phone and call, neither could. When it rained and the atmosphere created a gloomy, reminiscent mood, Dean couldn’t reach out to Castiel to ask him how he was doing. And when he lay awake at night staring at his ceiling and finding more and more cracks, Castiel couldn’t send a text.

Sam’s number was registered as a PRIVATE one which was so unfortunate for Castiel. He wanted to call and ask the youngest Winchester for a number he shouldn’t have deleted in the first place with the intention of expressing his sincere gratitude towards Dean for the flowers and the note.

Therefore, both of them suffered immensely the day afterwards when the jolting feeling kicked in like being drenched with buckets of ice water because Dean was suddenly invited by his grandfather to Scotland to discuss his future duties as the next King. And Castiel endlessly perused any material and source he could find to locate the Prince’s mobile number.

Ruby didn’t have it and neither did Meg. Of course, there was no public listing. A Google Search was like hitting a blank wall. And the more he searched, the more he wounded himself up into a fatigued state.

He could go to Northampton Castle or Westfordshire but what would he do after reaching the entrance and being confronted with the Royal Guards? Ask kindly to speak to the next King of England or Sam? It would never work because for a normal civilian, it wasn’t that easy to penetrate the outer barrier of those places.

So, they both suffered without contact for a week; seven days that felt like they were waiting on a crystal ball to drop and shatter into pieces because it was so easy for paranoia to kick in. And whilst Dean thought the worst of his gesture via the bouquet to mean maybe that the other man didn’t wish to speak to him anymore. Castiel thought that Dean’s bouquet meant that he was interested but perhaps still needed time to process it all.

It wasn’t only the bouquet though that sent a well-established message of the Prince’s affections towards him though.

The very next day, he received a receipt and a letter declaring that an apartment on Northing Street was opened up to him, fully paid for a year and ready with immediate effect. And after Castiel discovered that Dean indeed did all of that for him, he couldn’t recover, especially when the place was the most beautiful space he ever saw.

“It’s gorgeous!” Ruby leapt into the living room and spun around, arms wide open. “Jesus. It’s so big!”

“Come see the kitchen,” Meg’s voice was muffled, “it has a view of the Thames.”

The entire northern wall was covered with large windows and a breathtaking view of the river. It was the size of a condo. Literally. Fully furnished and carpeted in a beautiful maroon color. The walls were a lovely caramel and the ceiling held onto a brown teardrop chandelier. Then there were antique lamps on tables and...

Castiel was so in raptures, he stood there gaping, blue eyes roaming every single piece of beauty. His heart dulled to a low heavy rhythm; mind dizzied by the feel of the soft brown leather chairs as he ran his fingers over the back. The king size bed, a walk-in closet and a finely polished chest of drawers.

It was all too much, by the time they checked out every inch of the apartment, Castiel developed a heavy migraine behind his temples. He couldn’t believe that Dean would stretch his affections in such a way to definitely prove that he meant every single word ever promised between them and that his love was endless and pure and forever.

Castiel would be lying if he claimed that he wasn’t blushing like a teenager with a crush for the remainder of days in the week. Whilst he packed away his clothes and stored his shoes inside the closet, the realization would kick in. Then his face and neck would grow warmer until he was covered in sweats of the warmest kind and when he caught himself, he was smiling in the mirror.

But he wished that he could have found a way within that week to thank Dean from the bottom of his heart. Castiel wasn’t even sure how on earth he would reach the Prince unless he was sought out in Northing Street. But then on the third day when the BBC announced that Dean was in Scotland on a few days of consultation with his uncle, his heart tamed a little from worry.

“He got me a condo, Gabe,” Castiel told his brother on a Thursday night, sipping wine with his feet curled up on the window seat overlooking the river. “Can you imagine? Is this even real?”

“It’s real, baby bro,” Gabriel was just as thrilled. “You’re getting back all that you deserved from the time you left home. You’ve always been cheated and why? Because you wanted out from that goddamn prison.”

“He’s in love…with me,” blue eyes became mellow when the wind caressed his face and the view from the fourth floor provided nothing short of everything breathtaking. “I still can’t believe that he still wants me.”

“Believe it. You know, back in the days, if you were a woman, this conversation would have been different. First, you needed to get him to marry you the right way. Could be simple with witnesses. Then you’d have to sleep with him and get pregnant so that your kid would be the next heir to the throne. After that, he would have no choice but to keep you there forever in his pocket.”

“Do you think it wouldn’t last?” Castiel frowned, resting the wine glass on the window sill and gazing at it. He felt a bit worried.

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t,” Gabriel sighed. “But he’s known to get bored easily. So, you have to keep your game up to keep him hooked on you. Speaking of which. You’ve never slept with a guy, right?”

“Um, no,” Castiel stared at the river with distant eyes. “Only in my dreams, truthfully.”

“Why I ask is because you’ll need to keep the sex extra steamy to keep him hooked.”

“I’m not even sure that he is even that kind of man.”

“Bruh, he is a man. And 99.9% of us men keep going on sex. He wanted to kiss you first, didn’t he?”

For ten years, he found his books and wine orgasmic and endless binges on British television shows. Castiel thought of it and his chest felt so electric from the memories of the kiss that almost happened. “Yes.”

“Good! Well, he wants your body. And I don’t even think that you know how to twist around in the sheets with a guy. Good thing he’s well-versed so he can show you the ropes.”

“Gabriel…” Castiel sighed.

“I’ve done it loads of times before, baby bro. Just remember, giving your first blowjob will feel weird as hell. But gagging is normal.”

“Must we do this now? Can you just—”

But Gabriel was on a roll. “Then tease his nipples. Just as you’re going to tease the tip of his cock—”

“Good night. And goodbye!” Castiel ended the call and continued staring at the lights on boats below docked and rocking on the river.

Sex.

He never really thought of his inexperienced disadvantage before, possibly awkward to envision the whole thing but now that his brother pushed the idea into his head, Castiel sat on the window seat. And he thought about how Dean possessed a wealth of information under his belt, literally whilst he was never that intimate with another man.

For the most part of their marriage, Hanna accepted the bottom. She grew to desire other men because she was never attracted to him physically in the first place. So, on more than one too many occasions, she reached the precipice and pushed him off like he was a burden. Like he wasn’t another human being who wanted to be loved and appreciated just as he always loved and appreciated her.

They never ever did anything spicy. Their sex life was so mundane and turned into a routine, like an appointment at 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She never even gave him a damn blowjob and after all these years, he wondered why on earth he proposed. Probably to boast about it to his parents and to show that he could survive without them and he could have a normal life.

After the age of twenty-five, he started to become immensely captivated by his books. His wine helped him achieve a feeling of euphoria that wasn’t normal, especially during his phase when he experimented with ecstasy whilst studying journalism. And the kind of high that was accomplished from using his hands on himself was fueled by the inability of Hanna to finish him off during sex.

Now when he thought about how many years passed by without sleeping with a woman, Castiel wasn’t entirely embarrassed. There were women who showed genuine interests, who varied from cultural to wealthy to bland. But he never was the kind of guy who slept with someone after the first date and because he was always bored by their inability to connect with literature and poetry, nothing ever stretched past date one.

When he just thought of Dean though, he was able to accomplish a kind of sexual feeling that was like no other. It was like his entire body would strain to be touched, longing to be explored by just the softness of the Prince’s hands, for those amazing lips to smile around certain parts of his anatomy. And every single time he managed to allow those thoughts into his mind, he became so hard, it was painful to even touch himself because his body was craving for Dean alone to touch him.

When his mobile started chirping inside his pants pocket, Castiel almost tumbled off the seat. He felt guilty, as if caught watching porn. And after discovering that it was a PRIVATE number, the situation worsened when he started to fear that it was Dean.

Lo and behold, his pants were too tight in the front to entertain a decent conversation with the man who caused the discomfort in the first place.

“My bro!” Sam’s voice was always so cheerful. “My man! Well…you’re not my man. But my brother’s man. How are you faring?”

Castiel sighed, eyes fluttering close from being relieved that it wasn’t Dean. “Hi Sam. I’m peachy. Thanks for the push, by the way.”

There was silence on the other end then heavy laughter. “God, I thought you wouldn’t figure out I was the one who recommended you to take the job here.”

“It had your name written all over it.”

“All for the best. So, get this, I pretty much heard that the position was open and I handed them your name. With my name attached, of course. When do you start?”

“Next week,” Castiel was smiling. “You are a very amazing friend, Sam. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.”

“Don’t mention it. But I’m not done just yet.”

“Just thread lightly. The situation is delicate still.”

Sam sighed. “One step at a time. Listen, did you by chance delete Dean’s number? Because apparently, he deleted yours whilst he was having a terrible episode last month. Now he keeps checking his phone every minute to see if you’ve texted or called. And I know that after he gave you flowers, you’re the kind of man who would give thanks so…”

It was Castiel’s turn to sigh. He pinched between his brows. “So, that’s why I haven’t heard from him. Sadly, I deleted it and I couldn’t call you to get the damn number again because you’ve blocked yours.”

“The two of you would be hopeless without me, huh?” Sam laughed, promised that he would text their numbers and then he cleared his throat. “Okay, so why I really called is because…well since dad died, we haven’t gotten together as a family because we’re mourning. But Dean becoming the next King is a big deal to us. And we have a family dinner tomorrow evening at 6pm at Westfordshire. Mom, Eileen, and I have all agreed that we want you there.”

“And Dean?” Castiel asked, as his heart raced from the invitation.

“Well, we want to surprise him. It’s kind of like our way of saying that we officially support the two of you being together.”

“But we’re not together as yet, Sam,” Castiel said softly.

“I know, I know. But we want him to know that he has our warmest love and blessing to court you. I mean, even without our approval, he still would court the hell out of you. But it’s just to show our love because God knows he deserves as much support as ever. He’s had a rough time these past few months. Going up high. Hitting rock bottom. Both of you, I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like.”

“Closest resemblance to tossing your mind and heart into a blender.”

“Ouch. But good analogy,” Sam winced. “So, you’ll come.”

He was washed over by nerves of being privileged enough to be involved in one of their family occasions. But he couldn’t turn down such a beautiful invitation.

“I’d be more than thrilled to be there. Thanks, Sam.”

After Castiel ended the call, he stored the numbers and although the urge to call Dean was so strong, he turned off the lights. Then after climbing into bed, he decided to save his thanks for when they were face to face.

When he arrived the next day at the Palace after the Bentley dropped him off, Castiel’s nerves were too active.

His hands were trembling, he noticed, when he held them out for inspection and whilst walking up the same staircase he took the night of the Ball, his knees weakened from being inside a building that held a wealth of history. He was invited as a member instead of a guest of the family and was so overwhelmed about seeing Dean, knowing that he would get to talk to him and hear his voice. To look into those green eyes and to know for certain this time if their love was still as strong as he thought it was.

When Castiel was shown into the largest sitting room he ever stepped foot into, the first person who recognized him was the Queen and he was more than elated.

“Look who it is!” Mary rushed towards him, eyes sparkling. She was wearing a beautiful midnight blue gown with back gloves.

They embraced and he smelled whiskey on her, something that instantly reminded him of her son who was so far, nowhere in sight.

“Your Majesty,” Castiel met Sam’s eyes by the window.

“It’s been too long,” Mary captured his face between her palms. She frowned. “Do you know how many times I wanted to find you? Dean never told me exactly what happened but I know that you left. And I kept wondering what I could do to make you stay. Then, when I realized that I shouldn’t get involved, I stepped back. But we still need to knock back some whiskey.” Her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

Sam drew nearer with another man by his side. Eileen waved at Castiel from her seat by the window and he waved back and wondered when the baby was due.

“This…” the youngest Winchester beamed, “is Benny Lafitte. He’s been Dean’s best friend for what? About twenty years now?”

“I’d think so. Missing too many times when he needed me. But I still come through,” Benny’s accent was definitely from Louisiana. “And who might this handsome fellow be?”

“The one and only Castiel,” Sam stood back and smiled contentedly.

Benny was so impressed, his eyes widened. “Well, good thing you said something fast. Or else I’d be trying to flirt with my best friend’s man. The pleasure is mine,” when he took Castiel’s hand, he winked.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Sam said, slapping Castiel on the back affectionately. “My wife’s calling me.”

“Go on, go on,” Benny was studying Castiel like he found him rather amusing an intriguing at the same time. “You’ve got those soulful eyes, and I know that’s why he fell for you. Where you from?”

“New York. And you…Louisiana?”

“The very same. Nice to have an American around here.” Benny gestured for them to walk towards the window where another man and a woman with flaming red hair were standing. “This here is the man Donatello who has been tutoring Dean for all these years. And this fine lady is Rowena, Dean’s psychiatrist. Folks, this is the Castiel we’ve all been hearing about.”

“Call me Don,” the pleasant looking man with white hair held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you but if you’ll excuse me, I need to discuss something quickly with her Majesty.” And he rushed off with as much energy as a four-year-old.

Rowena was visibly astonished and displayed nothing but wild happiness. “Castiel!” she embraced him into a tight hug, “it is so nice to finally meet you! I’m glad that you’re back.” She leaned in close to his ear. “Does Dean know you’re here?”

He nodded and noticed that Sam was bringing another girl over with red hair and wondered if she was related to the woman he was speaking to.

“Well then, this is fantastic news,” Rowena said, touching his arm. “I must say, you are as fine as he described. I have known Dean since he was nine and I know enough about him to tell you for sure that above everything else in his life, you matter to him very, very much.”

“And he matters very much to me,” Castiel said with a nod.

“Holy smokes, is this him?” a young woman with the large eyes approached them as if she was too mesmerized to process his presence.

“Charlie, this is Castiel,” Sam did the introductions. “Castiel, this is one of our cousins.”

“Dude, I’ve been dying to meet you like for ages now!” Charlie couldn’t contain her excitement. She took his arm. “You’re so freaking dreamy! Just like he said you would be. Most of all, I heard you’re an Austenite. Which is perf! I think I’ve read all the books at least five times and Persuasion is so underrated.”

Her enthusiasm was so catchy, Castiel thoroughly was enjoying it. “Very underrated,” he contributed with a smile.

Rowena was still drinking him in.

He wondered what Dean told her about them and their encounters. Was he colored as the bad person? Was she silently trying to find the same flaws in him that Dean previously revealed to her?

“Are you a Potterholic too?” Charlie was deeply engaged by his presence.

“You know, to be honest, I read all the books but because my ex-wife was the one who introduced me to them, I never went back. The movies are quite nice though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had a girlfriend who bought me all the Percy Jackson books but after we broke up, I never could read them without thinking of her.” Their eyes lingered on each other and a mutual understanding of sexuality passed between them.

“So, you’re divorced,” Rowena said after sipping her cherry brandy. The light humor in her eyes still remained. “Oh, don’t think that I’m judging you,” she brushed off his look of uncertainty. “I have five ex-husbands. The lot of them are all dead. People think I killed them. But I’d like them to keep guessing.”

It was obvious that Charlie didn’t fancy the psychiatrist. The glint in her eyes was more than menacing. And very soon, she dominated the conversation enough to lead him away, as they rounded topics on books too many to pass through in one evening.

There were eight people in the room and all of them were in conversation, good humored and laughing. Then just as Charlie was explaining a plot hole from Deathly Hallows to him, Sam held up his hands and shushed everyone.

“Hide! All of you!”

“Where? Under the furniture?” Benny raised an eyebrow. “God knows I can’t fit.”

When Dean came through the double doors, he wasn’t alone but was accompanied by Annalise. And although Castiel never really wanted to place weight on their bond, he immediately felt a pang of jealousy because the two of them were laughing gaily with their hands around each other.

“Really, guys?” Dean’s eyes swept the room in good humor, “what’s all of this? A party? Why are you all…” when he pinpointed Castiel though, the look of utter shock on his face couldn’t be restrained. Blinking slowly with his mouth agape, his chest heaved and the room grew instantly quiet.

Castiel on the other hand was entirely overwhelmed as well. Even with Charlie by his side, everyone else in the room disappeared when their eyes locked and he realized that it was the same look the Prince revealed at the funeral.

Now, the abundance of genuine happiness displayed by seeing Castiel was entertained with a smile, the kind that affected his entire disposition and caused everyone in the room to react in admiration. Even Annalise who clapped her hands in glee.

“Well, now that we know you’re really happy to be here,” Sam patted Dean on the back to awaken him from a trance, “let’s eat. Because we’ve been waiting an hour for you to arrive and everyone’s hungry.”

“Speeches after dinner,” Mary said by Don’s side.

After Dean diverted his gaze to listen to Benny’s whispers, the two of them considered Castiel and smiled. Then even though he wanted to just walk over to where they were and say something, to express thanks, Castiel felt rooted to the spot because Dean looked even more handsome than before. And all he could do was offer a smile in return.

His shirt was a deep green that made his eyes appear even more bewitching. His black tie matched his black tailored pants and there was something else about the way he moved. Castiel realized that in short sleeves, Dean’s arms were a little more defined from working out. Perhaps feverishly during their absence and it was something he didn’t noticed at the funeral because the Prince was wearing a suit.

“Well, go over and say something,” Charlie urged him. “Don’t make me drag you there.”

“I…can’t,” he said honestly, heart racing and he couldn’t breathe from just thinking of being anywhere near the other man. “I don’t think I can right now.”

“Come on, you four,” Mary waved at them and gestured towards the door leading into the dining room. “Plenty of time for more conversation after we eat.”

“Why?” Charlie kept conversation as they drifted after the Queen. She was glued to his right arm. “Is it like nerves or you genuinely don’t know what to say to him? Because I totally get it. You two haven’t talked in a long time. How do you even start? By saying hi? But what you really want to tell him, you don’t want anyone else to hear.”

“That is exactly it,” Castiel liked her already. She was bubbling with energy. “I’d rather wait for the moment.”

“Don’t wait too long,” she said, taking up a seat on Benny’s right.

Don followed on the left and then Rowena. On the opposite side of the table, Sam eyed where Eileen and Annalise sat and looked for his mother’s approval on the seating arrangements.

“Castiel,” Mary said smiling, just as he was about to find a place by Eileen, “come sit next to Dean. And I…” she lowered herself at the head of the table, “will sit here judging all of your conversations from the hot seat.”

Everyone laughed except two people. Dean, who was suddenly awkwardly pulling out a chair on his mother’s left. And Castiel, as he approached that side of the table, completely washed over by nervousness and feeling so lightheaded all of a sudden, certain that from the moment they sat next to each other, he would melt from anxiety.

And he was oh so right.

Dean’s aftershave captured Castiel into a state of mind that resembled nothing but bliss with the warm but overwhelming lavender and sandalwood scents.

The Prince actually stood there holding out the chair and waiting with a damn smile on his face. And it was the most beautiful gesture to behold, even the party gathered noticed when Castiel sat down neatly but shaking from nerves after Dean helped him in.

Then when the two of them were literally five inches apart, Castiel became so conscious of how drawn they were to each other, he still couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t understand how the two of them could have such a grand effect on one another that was so damn intoxicating, it was almost as if their pores were calling out to be touched as if they couldn’t survive the distance already.

After the meal was served, a fine spread from all food groups, conversation dwindled down to threes or twos which pretty much left the two only silent people propelled to believe that if one of them didn’t say anything to break the tension, then they would both self-combust.

“Dean, thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Both of them rushed out together, evidently breathless and running high on their attraction towards each other.

Afterwards, their eyes met and whilst green ones sparkled as usual, blue orbs became lost from such beauty.

“You go first,” Dean said, his voice light. He stopped eating and waited.

When Castiel discovered that he couldn’t say another word without looking elsewhere, the fine cutlery was considered instead. “Thank you so much…for the flowers. The note. The words are forever imprinted in my mind.”

Dean smiled, melting as he bit his lips.

“And the apartment. It is so beautiful. You didn’t have to do that,” Castiel’s voice was so soft, his heartbeat even louder.

“You’re welcome and I had to,” Dean said whilst his mother glanced over and nodded from acknowledging them finally conversing. “After I saw the place you were staying in. In Baker Street. I had to do something about it.”

“Well, you took my breath away.”

“I hope that I can do that a million times more from now.”

Castiel felt warm tears cloud his eyes and smiled in abundance. He couldn’t look at him, not when he was so thankful and felt so loved.

Dean, evidently, couldn’t eat anything else from his plate.

When Castiel admired his hands though, he realized that the Prince’s fingers were trembling slightly. And in that moment, he wanted to hold his hands, to press those perfect hands to his lips and to kiss them until they stopped trembling.

“There are so many things that I want to say to you right now,” Castiel tried to keep his voice low in fear of anyone else listening in.

“Not now,” Dean eyed Charlie gazing at them from across the table. “Cas,” he turned his head a little so that their eyes met again. “I missed you so much.”

Castiel drowned in their gaze. “I missed you too, Dean.”

“Let’s talk about something lighter because my cousin and my psychiatrist,” Dean’s tone was low as his warm breath kissed the other man’s right ear, “are both trying to eavesdrop. The former craves a good romance story and the latter is hell bent on knowing every damn thing there is about me.”

Castiel chuckled, trying hard not to look at the two women across the table. “Okay, so Austen then.”

“Lighter, Cas,” Dean whispered frantically, picking up the cutlery and trying to appear as if he resumed eating. “Austen is too heavy in terms of us.”

“Helen Shapiro then?”

“Really, Cas?”

“Then what?” Castiel was enjoying the humor that was erasing the tension between them.

“I’m so…nervous right now,” Dean admitted in an uneven tone. The garden salad on his plate was prodded with the fork.

“Don’t be,” Castiel said softly. “I am too but one of us has to suck it up.”

“Most times, that’s you.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

Dean cleared his throat and appeared as if he was struggling to gain back composure from Castiel’s words. “Uh, how is Whiskers?” he chewed on a cube of potato, eyes lowered.

“She is quite fine. She’s taking a liking to the window seat. I think she loves the Thames as much as I do.”

“She is so soft and loving.”

“Just like her owner,” Castiel bit his smile and observed Charlie glaring at Rowena after she remarked on the dullness of Star Trek.

Dean reached for his glass of water and sighed. “There you go again teasing me.”

“How am I teasing you?” When the other man didn’t produce a reply, Castiel shook his head and chuckled to ease his nervousness.

“It’s overrated,” Rowena said with a dulled look.

Charlie gasped. “What did you just say?”

“I said it’s rather overrated and too far-fetched.”

The conversation around the table erupted into a full fledge debate on Game of Thrones to which Dean sighed, seemed less interested and turned to Annalise on his right to whisper something. The two of them laughed and it was in that moment that Castiel hated himself for feeling so stupidly jealous.

After all the things Dean did to justify his feelings, there he sat detesting that Annalise was being talked to. Filled with so much humor, the conversation prolonged between her and Dean and very soon, he was left with no choice but to listen to Charlie explain why she loved Daenerys.

“Now, since everyone is finished,” Mary said after the war died down and glancing at Sam, “I want to say a few words. Dean,” she locked eyes with her son and smiled. “We’re all here because of you and I want you to know that we are so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished. Now I know that you have a very challenging future ahead but I’m confident that you’ll be the best fit for the crown when the time comes. In the meantime, I want you to learn as much as you can. So that when you take over, no one will be able to defeat your power. Cheers!”

All of them raised their glasses, even Dean who comically toasted himself.

Sam shook his head whilst laughing and went next. He unfolded himself and his wife nudged him playfully. “I think after that fight we had two months ago, Dean knows that no matter how much he tries, he can never get rid of me.”

Everyone laughed. Castiel, on the other hand was curious about the origin.

“Most of all though, I want you to keep remembering the good things in your life instead of the bad. Because the weight of those good things is far more than anything else. I want to say this because it’s one of the main reasons why mom, Eileen and I arranged this social.” Sam cleared his throat.

“You are a blessing, Dean. Your daily struggle to come out on top despite everything that’s happening to you is something that we all admire. And as your brother, I know that what you’ve always wanted to be happy just like the end of your fairytales. So now that you have found someone who makes you so damn happy, just the mention of his name…look,” Sam gestured at his brother and shook his head laughing, “just look at how he gets.”

Charlie’s fists were pressed onto her mouth as she gazed at Dean across the table blushing deeply.

“I swear, and mom and Eileen, I think everyone can agree with me on this one,” Sam continued, “every time we mention Castiel’s name, my brother becomes this blushing, soft ball of mush that I’ve never ever seen before. Like ever.” The laughter was soft around the table.

Whilst Castiel felt his neck grow warmer from the truth, he glanced over and his heart melted. Dean was trying to shield his softened countenance from the table. The Prince’s eyes were soft with tears that he didn’t want anyone else to witness. And in that moment, Castiel was so certain of one thing. If there was any doubt in his mind, there was none now.

“Bro, up to this morning you told me that when you find your soul mate, you can’t ever let go. And since you’ve met him, you wouldn’t shut up about him,” Sam’s tone was soft. “So, I want you to know that I believe you. From the bottom of our hearts, we want you to know that you have our blessing.”

The applause that ensued was prominent enough for Sam to take a bow and after he toasted whilst Dean dabbed at his eyes, Sam sat down.

They all returned to the room they gathered in earlier.

It was funny though, because Castiel never noticed the cherry wood piano sitting in the corner until Mary remarked on the absence of music and she boldly asked Castiel if he could play.

You can just imagine Dean’s surprise as well as Annalise when the instrument was approached. And as Castiel sat down, quite nervous and trying to steady his fingers on the keys, he took deep breaths. Eyes fluttering close, he thought of a tune, a song, any song that reached out to him.

Then when he started to play Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, Dean couldn’t contain himself. He stood there whilst everyone marveled over Castiel’s skillful hand, and his heart melted.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him. If he only knew…he wondered what else Castiel was hiding as he poured his heart, and feelings into the tune, even Mary felt it. And after being wantonly impressed, she turned to Sam and smiled.

“The way your brother looks at Castiel,” she said softly, “is the same way I looked at your father when he played for me. The two of them remind me so much of John and I when were younger. That kind of love is rare.”

“He deserves it,” Sam said, admiring his brother’s soft countenance. Dean drifted towards the piano. “God knows he deserves it more than any of us. I hope that it lasts. In fact, I will make it last.”

Loud applause filled the room when Castiel ended the song and then whilst Don gave the piano a go, Sam and Mary watched proudly as Dean stunned Castiel by taking his hand. The latter gazed up into green eyes before rising up slowly and the two of them approached the window seat further away from the guests.

There they sat alone, away from everyone so that their conversation could be private. And finally, after being in the company of each other, both of them were breathless.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Dean said softly after some time passed. He kept the other man’s hand between his and wouldn’t stop gazing into pools of blue. “When I turned away from you to talk to Annalise. I was so…Cas, I…” lowering his eyes, he swallowed, “…I couldn’t keep it light because everything I feel about you is so powerful. And I needed to try and distract myself…”

Castiel tenderly entwined their fingers because physical contact was so stimulating after spending so much time away from each other. “I was actually jealous of Annalise,” he admitted.

The Prince shook his head. “Don’t be. There’s nothing between us except friendship. She’s married now to a Duke in Wales. They’re actually expecting their first child six months from now. So, there is no reason…” Dean smiled a little as he placed emphasis.

“I know, I know. And I’m ashamed of it. But then there is so much certainty and then so many blank spaces. I’m not sure where we are…. what we are to each other at this point. And I keep getting these doubts,” Castiel’s voice weakened.

“Don’t be doubtful, my dear Cas. You’re here. We’re here. And what we are to each other is everything that we dreamt of. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe that I finally have you. I just knew we would work out for the best and now that you’re here, I can’t hide how happy I am. Your hands are cold,” Dean lowered his gaze and squeezed them between his soft ones. His fingers were so warm and comforting. “Why are your hands so cold?”

“Dean…” Castiel’s tone was pleading in its gravelly quality. “Please look at me.” When the Prince slowly raised those beautiful green orbs, his chest heaved. “I’ve missed your eyes. And your voice. And your smile. But do you know what I’ve missed the most?”

“What? Tell me. All of it.”

Castiel couldn’t stop his heart from hammering away. “When you almost kissed me.”

The light in those green eyes mellowed enough to produce a warmth between them that was contagions. “Cas,” Dean swallowed hard and lowered his gaze to their hands.

The reactions he could accomplish; Castiel wasn’t stunned. In fact, he was thrilled to know that every single emotion that passed over the Prince’s countenance was caused by his words.

“The silly and shameful things I’ve done during those three months we were apart like…googling your name constantly just to see if something new about you would show up. Or trying to find pictures of you in tight jeans.”

“What?” Dean’s humor was immediate. All the tension in those green eyes disappeared as he stared back in amazement. “And were you disappointed by what you saw?”

“Hardly,” Castiel tilted his head and smiled. “It was rather uncomfortable for me.”

Emerald eyes blinked, as if shocked. “You’re going to talk to me like that now. When we’re surrounded by people. Do you know what you do to me, Cas?” Dean leaned in and his warm breath kissed the other man’s lips.

“I felt it when we almost kissed,” Castiel was losing his mind from how close they were near the heavy curtains, partially hidden from prying eyes. “It was more than three months ago and I still remember how you were...”

Dean swallowed hard and inhaled deeply. He bit his lips and glanced at someone behind Castiel, then offered a small smile at whoever it was. “I heard that Sam got you a job at The Daily Scandal’s office over here,” his voice was deeply affected by emotion after clearing his throat. “Uh…you start next week?”

The other man’s deliberate attempt to sway the conversation away was slightly hurtful. Castiel immediately felt completely foolish for saying such things.

“Forgive me for being so direct with my advances,” he said, diverting his gaze beyond the window where the night was sprinkled with lights. “Yes. I start next week.”

Dean, however, was staring. “Are you…happy about it all?”

“I’m anxious,” Castiel sighed. “It’s a new life for me.” Why did he sway the conversation? Was it that terrible to remember the times they were close to each other?

“You gave up everything,” Dean said softly. “For me. I know that. Ruby told me. We kind of parted as friends after I dropped by. She and I had a very open conversation.”

“About what?”

There were tears in Dean’s eyes, something Castiel missed within the two minutes of becoming lost in another scene. And the sight alone was enough to crack his heart further.

“You,” Dean said hoarsely and their gaze was deepened. “Is the view out there more breathtaking than when you look at me?”

There was so much depth in their conversations, in fact, it wasn’t unexpected.

“Of course not,” Castiel’s tone was strained from never really wanting to deliver that kind of impression.

“Did you miss me?” Dean’s voice was terribly low as his chest heaved. “These past three months? Did you find someone else to distract you? You know, someone who wasn’t…me. Did you sleep with anyone or tried to get over me?”

“Dean…” Castiel’s eyes clouded with tears. The doubt; that he could have even achieved it something like that, was painful enough to see in the other man’s eyes “Why on earth would you ask me something like that?”

“Maybe I kept thinking that you wanted an easy life and there are plenty of people who would be so lucky to have you. They probably asked or…wanted you as much as I do when you weren’t here with me. And I spent so much time wishing that you stayed. But you left me.”

“You know why I did what I did, Dean,” Castiel said in a wounded tone. “So, don’t try to relive the past as if it wasn’t as painful for me as it was for you. Walking away from you killed me in every sense of the word. I couldn’t return to a normal life. Instead I had to take time off from work to recover from the worst pain that I have ever felt. And I made the decision to come back to you because I never stopped loving you. I thought…” Castiel shook his head, “I thought that if I just waited, then something would happen. And when Sam called me to tell me that your father died…”

“So, if my father didn’t die,” Dean searched those blue eyes he loved. “You wouldn’t have returned.”

“No. I wouldn’t have. Why are we dwelling on the past and ‘ifs’ when we’re here right now?” Castiel frowned. “I’d like to feel nothing but love for you instead of pain, Dean.”

“I’m sorry. I’m such a fuck up.” The Prince lowered his gaze and bit his lips. And in that moment, the kind of tragedy revealed from how broken they had become was too much to conceal.

“No, you’re not,” Castiel took Dean’s hands between his and rubbed them gingerly. “Dean, look at me.” When their eyes met, he pleaded. “I didn’t sleep with Ruby. I didn’t sleep with anyone but you in my dreams. In fact, I haven’t slept with another goddamn person for maybe over ten years,” a tear ran down his cheek and he dabbed at it.

There. He admitted the truth out loud to someone besides his two brothers. And maybe it was embarrassing afterwards, so embarrassing that he looked away and wished he would disappear. But then the Prince squeezed his hands.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone either,” Dean croaked, breaking down his walls just to be exposed too. “The last person was Ian. And really that was five years ago. Contrary to popular belief,” he sighed, “I’ve never enjoyed being intimate with anyone. They could never…make me go there.”

“Where?” Castiel asked innocently. He blinked and waited patiently wondering what kind of storms whirled around the other man’s mind.

Dean’s eyes widened and his lips parted as if shocked. “Uh, you know. Where it all ends after you jerk off?”

“Oh,” Castiel nodded quickly and swallowed, obviously ashamed from not being able to catch on. “There. Understood. Okay.” He kept nodding with a distant look as the guilty fantasy of the Prince using his hand on himself was…more than pleasing.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean stared back, searching the other man’s face. “You’re killing me.”

“How?” Castiel’s voice became so hoarse as his body yearned to be touched so much by the other man. It wasn’t normal to have those kinds of desires, to loathe the inches between them.

“It was hard for me to love you without being able to touch you.”

“Serves you right after what you’ve been doing to me for these past months,” Castiel scolded. “You know what? I had those moments…at work,” he said through his teeth. “And you can’t imagine how embarrassing it was.” Dean was chuckling. “No, don’t laugh. You don’t get the right to because you shouldn’t be so goddamn handsome in the first place. Nor ever wear tight jeans in public. Those things should be illegal.”

Dean captured Castiel behind his neck and drew their faces closer. Then whilst chuckling, those green eyes wonderful and smiling, he rested their foreheads together. “You should see me without clothes, Cas.”

“You…tease. You…handsome and wonderful man,” Castiel’s eyes fluttered close when the Prince brushed their noses together affectionately. He could almost instantaneously feel the pull between them strengthen. “Christ, you smell so good.”

Their lips were so close, he could taste Dean’s breath and his mind was turned upside down as barely, their lips brushed and Castiel was on fire like a flame ignited and burning inside his chest too and then…

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Sam’s voice forced them to pull apart as if touched by an electrical wire. He stared wide eyed and his face grew pink. “Fuck,” he offered an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. Guys, I’m…”

The moment so perfect was snatched away and gone with the wind through the window instantly.

Dean sighed, leaned back, rested his head upon the window and his eyes fluttered close. “You just…ruined my fairytale moment, Sam,” his voice was so pained. “So much for your frigging toast this evening.”

Castiel found himself smiling.

“Look, no offense but by a window?” Sam gestured outside and considered his brother, still mesmerized. “Come on, you could do better than that.”

“Shut your face,” Dean swallowed hard and he locked eyes with Cas. The two of them could still feel the moment when their lips brushed softly like two flickering flames. And they were still living through it.

“Don’t settle for anything less than perfect, Cas,” Sam turned on the other man now. “The next thing you know, the two of you could tumble out of the damn window. It’s three floors down.”

And thus, the lamentations continued until they were all called over to join a game of cards. From there, no conversation was entertained between the two of them but the enacted gazes from across the table and the reaching of their hearts and desire and passion between each other.

When Castiel was leaving, he bid everyone a good night and had the privilege of Dean taking him downstairs.

They didn’t say anything on their way down, but sent each other shy smiles all the way, blushing glances and bitten lips until the very last staircase was reached and Dean for some odd reason, jogged ahead towards the door. From there, he stood waiting without opening it.

Castiel approached quietly, frowning at the other man standing with his hands in his pockets. And as he drifted closer, the inches being eaten away by their desire for each other, he dreaded that he needed to leave. He wanted to stay, to be asked to stay and to spend the night with the Prince.

Then just as he reached for the knob, Dean grabbed Castiel around his waist and flatted him in one smooth move upon the door.

Breathless, he softly clamped his right hand over Castiel’s parted lips. And Dean brought their bodies flush together, staring wild eyed into blue eyes that registered nothing but shock and a thousand torches burning.

Castiel’s mind was soaring when the Prince tilted his head and grazed his teeth lightly across his neck. Then Dean was kissing the soft and tender spot under his right ear like no one ever did before, trailing pecks down the contour of Castiel’s neck to the crook of his right shoulder and he moaned into the soft bites, a sound he never thought he could unearth.

Little bites were delivered that were so ecstatic to feel on the receiving end, that curled his toes and turned his knees jelly. He could feel Dean’s hot body on him and how hard the Prince was inside his pants, on fire and no less than promising on inches and perfect. He was so damn perfect and they fitted together blissfully.

Castiel snaked his left arm upwards under Dean’s right and he felt those muscles rippling in the other man’s back whilst he moved and Dean kissed anywhere but on Castiel’s lips, teasing the hell out of him by moving to his earlobe, biting then pulling softly. And his warm breath kept caressing Castiel’s blushing face pressing a soft kiss on the wrinkle by his eye and then his temple.

“When I finally have you all to myself in bed,” Dean suddenly whispered into the other man’s ear, driving him insane. Castiel writhed between him and the door and could feel every part of him as he dug his fingertips into muscle. “I’ll make you pay for what you did to me these past three months. In pleasure. So much pleasure. You’ll wish that you never left me in the first place.”

When Dean finally released him and stepped back, those green eyes were on fire as Castiel stayed flattened on the door with his chest heaving uncontrollably.

He watched in awe as the Prince shifted uncomfortably whilst he retreated, the outline of his cock definite in his pants still. And Castiel felt as if he would collapse on the ground and die from desire from his mind racing and his heart hammering away and the piercing pain inside his lungs.

“Good night,” Dean said softly. He pressed parted lips to those beautiful fingers and blew a kiss. “Sweet dreams. Of me.” And then he swiftly ascended the staircase, never looking back.

Chapter Text

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

― Mr. Darcy, Pride And Prejudice

It was a simple question really done over the phone on a Sunday morning whilst he was just washing his teacup in the sink with the view of the Thames glistening from the fresh sunshine.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” Dean’s voice drifted from the mobile resting on the countertop. “Say…one-ish?”

Castiel answered immediately after spending a considerable amount of time since their last encounter, aching to hear from the Prince again. And it was almost close to four days with no contact because Dean was being tutored on his future roles as a King.

“Where?” Castiel reached for a red and white checkered hand towel and wiped the teacup, thoughts flying all over.

Dean chuckled. “I’ll send a car around.”

“At least tell me where we’re going,” Castiel’s tone always softened when they spoke. “So that I can dress appropriately.”

“To my castle. Can you wear the I’m Mister Darcy shirt?” Dean sounded breathless as birds chirped in the background. “I love that shirt.”

Thank goodness he decided to pack those shirts to bring along to London when the initial decision was to throw them all away.

“Fine.” Castiel put the teacup away. “But how about this since you’re making demands. I want you in the thinnest jersey you can find and a pair of your tightest jeans.”

“You can’t handle me in my tightest jeans,” Dean’s voice grew hoarser. “Believe me. It would be torture for you.”

“Comply or I stand by my window and watch the Bentley wait downstairs until it gives up and leaves.” The very thought of the Prince in tight jeans was pleasurable. Castiel was grinning like a fool by the window and he savored the feeling.

“You’re so sexy when you’re bossy,” Dean chuckled on the other end. “Alright, cool. I’ll see you soon. Bye, bye huggy bear.”

“Bye, bye huggy bear,” Ruby suddenly appeared by the doorway, dressed in leather and arms folded.

“Jesus!” Castiel almost dropped his bowl of pretzels. He tried to compose himself by taking deep breaths. “Would you at least knock instead of picking my damn lock?” Her hellbent decision to torment his life was rather annoying.

“So, he uses pet names now?” she smirked as Castiel brushed by, heading crossly to the living room. “That’s fast! What else does he call you, huh? Hunk? Hot ass? Tight ass? Did you two screw already?”

“You know, my Sunday morning was going quite well without your interruption,” he turned on the television and channel searched. “Why are you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be at Meg’s helping her redecorate?”

“She cancelled,” Ruby plopped herself on the couch next to him and stole a pretzel. “You didn’t answer my question. Did…you…fuck.”

“The last time I checked, it’s none of your business,” Castiel decided on the Food Network and crossed his legs on the pouf.

“What happened the other night that left you as white as a sheet and all trembly?” she asked with a teasing smile. “When you came back from the party.” Ruby barefacedly licked the pretzel. “Did he blow you?”

“It wasn’t a party, it was a dinner. And nothing…happened.” But he was never a good liar, ever, in his forty years on earth.

“He used his damn hands on you!” she bounced on the chair. “I knew it! Because if it was a kiss, you wouldn’t look that constipated. Goddammit. Did he make you—”

“I will throw you out,” Castiel warned whilst pointing at her. “I swear. He invited me for lunch. So, you’ve got roughly two hours left before vacating my damn apartment.”

“That gives me up to 12. He asked you to be there by one-ish.” When he turned to stare at her in shock, she shrugged and smiled wide.

“You were eavesdropping? That’s low, even for you.”

“It’s not like I knew. As soon as I walked in, I heard you and thought you were talking to yourself. Then there you were asking him to wear the tightest pair of jeans he could find. And by the way,” she poked Castiel in his chest whilst he glared at the television, “was I wrong?”

“About what?” he was already in a crossed mood from her intrusion.

“His monster cock. Come on, don’t give me that look,” Ruby folded her arms when Castiel’s lips parted but he shouldn’t have been stunned by her directness. “We go way back, remember? We used to go skinny dipping. And maybe that’s why John hates him so much. Because he was oh so well-endowed in that department.”

“Thank you,” Castiel swallowed hard whilst chewing his pretzel and he stared at the television. “For putting that painfully arousing image into my damn mind.”

“Any time,” she settled into the chair and smiled. “So, you haven’t seen it as yet. Poor baby. You’ll see it soon though. In all its glory.”

He kicked her out sooner than expected and she left in her wake torturous thoughts that didn’t bode well when he tried to zip up his pants a little after midday.

Castiel stiffly slipped into the Bentley, wearing the same navy-blue graphic tee with the words imprinted in white. Then when the car drove away from the curb, he spied Ruby lingering by the corner, eating a hotdog and chatting up the vendor. And he wondered how a creature such as herself could maintain a relationship or if there was even a relationship between her and Meg.

When the Bentley took another scenic route towards the back of Northampton Castle though, his interest was piqued.

As gravel crunched, he spied Dean with the same catchy smile plastered on his handsome face waiting under a maple tree.

The Prince looked very dashing as always, and he was hanging onto a picnic basket. And from the moment Castiel realized that the other man’s attire fitted his earlier requests, there was nothing short of a surprised look between them.

“Hi,” Dean came forward to greet him. “How was the drive over?”

The Bentley crawled away and left blue eyes with enough room to wander guiltily.

“Uneventful. So, you complied.”

Castiel couldn’t help but walk his gaze all over Dean because the tight black jeans really did accentuate the Prince’s well-endowed regions.

“I did and so did you, Mister Darcy.” When Dean noted the lingering gaze, he sighed and shrunk his shoulders. “I warned you. Now you’ll keep looking at me like you really want to eat me instead of what I have in the goddamn basket.”

“Keep that up,” Castiel warned, scowling as he regretted requesting the choice of attire for the other man. Now his mind would forever be swimming around in the gutter. “Where are we going again?”

With a wink, Dean simply led the way onto the rolling grasslands behind his castle and then down a trodden path that was lined with clay bricks.

“Huggy bear, huh,” Castiel discovered that he fought to maintain at least two feet of distance between them.

After their last encounter, the effect was still grand. All the memories were still stimulating and the threat of devouring him was still a bit wild and threatening to remember.

Dean noticed the deliberate inches between them immediately and shook his head. “The nickname just came to mind. You’re warm and cuddly, I guess. And why are you staying away from me like that, Cas?”

“Like how?” the other man tried to look confused, instead, he could feel his neck grow warmer from the intensity of the Prince’s scrutiny from being found out so quickly.

“Like you’re afraid to come closer. I don’t bite.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel shyly considered Dean who smiled back with teeth.

“Don’t fret. You thoroughly enjoyed it.”

After the path ended and they were both faced with the river Thames, there were no words.

The beauty was phenomenal to Castiel, he silently stood there in the midst of a dream. And he was trying to compose himself whilst Dean wandered off towards a square grey color top gazebo with thick bronze privacy curtains drawn back.

“This is like a photo from Home Entertainment. Christ. This is…” Castiel’s eyes rested on where the Prince ventured off to and he stared in awe. “Am I living in a dream? I feel as if I’m in a coma and I’m inside some sort of…wild fantasy.”

“So, your wildest fantasy is to have lunch with me under a gazebo with a view of the river?” Dean rested the basket on top of the glass table and slowly relaxed on the two cushioned bronze colored armchair covered in soft plastic.

“That’s just the beginning of that fantasy,” Castiel admitted with his back towards the other man.

The view was too addicting. The rippling surface of the water. The Tower Bridge downstream. And he could also detect the flags billowing in the breeze but the best part of the ambience was the soothing effect because its exactly what nature tended to do to him; wash him over in a kind of sensation that was too toe curling.

“If I knew that the river would be more captivating than me, then I would have just let us eat in the castle.”

When Castiel turned to stare at Dean, fearful that his attention drawn elsewhere was hurtful, he was met with sparkling green eyes.

“Take your time. I’m kidding. Then…come sit with me,” the Prince gestured at the chair, “I’m waiting just as I’ve been since we met.”

“Or else what?” Castiel’s eyes narrowed at the towers of the bridge. “You’ll make me pay with pleasure?”

Dean swallowed hard and was impressed. “You have a pretty good memory. Do you remember anything else?”

Castiel’s gaze rested now on the houses across the river with the most beautiful architecture. “If you’re referring to the way you felt, then yes. I do remember. All of you, Dean.”

“I…was…” the Prince’s voice hoarsened, deeply affected by the other man’s words, he cleared his throat. “I was talking about the kiss I blew you. But okay.”

When Castiel finally decided to approach the gazebo, he marveled over the beauty of it. The structure was wonderfully crafted. The bronze columns shone in the sunlight and the light curtains of a midnight blue were drawn aside by bronze sashes.

And then there was Dean.

He chose to sit in a position on the soft chair that was rather revealing to say the least, of exactly what his tight jeans could expose. Turned sideways, one leg folded and the other meeting the ground, Dean had his left arm strewn over the back of the chair and he was smiling up at Castiel, as if daring the other man to come and sit beside him.

So, naturally, Castiel complied, choosing to sit awkwardly on the other end of the chair with a foot of distance between them and keeping their eyes locked. He knew that if he even lowered his pair, then there was no going back because Dean possessed the kind of eyes that were very revealing of his intentions.

When those green orbs sparkled, he was rather much playing on mischief or humor or happiness. But the moment those flames licked behind emerald, he could become so bold, Castiel wasn’t afraid but rather nervous from what could be accomplished from those advances.

“I hope you like tuna,” Dean smiled. “If you don’t, there’s just the garden salad and chicken. Oh! And beer,” he reached hastily for the flap of the basket and pulled out two cold ones, then twisting the corks off, he handed one over. “Cheers,” he said holding out the bottle with a smile. “To us. Good health. Good times. And good sex.”

“Is that all?” Castiel’s eyes were as wide as saucers and when Dean snorted over the mouth of his beer, he sighed. “If you really want me that much, then why don’t you just ask nicely?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” the Prince sipped on his beer and only rested his eyes on the other man. “And I intend to court you the old-fashioned way first.”

Courting was all glorious and wonderful when reading the process in books. But after living his wildest dream of falling in love with another man, learning to love him in every single way there was to love, then completely desiring him physically until he craved to be touched and kissed, Castiel wasn’t sure that he was going to survive.

But then he realized in that moment how much Dean changed since he last saw him from the man he knew three months ago that wanted to kiss him, to take things fast instead of slow, hasten their pace into a life of fire and danger and so much more. And now there was a sense of calm behind those green eyes that reflected nothing but composure and his full intent to keep his promise.

And Castiel didn’t think it was possible, but he loved Dean a lot more because of that. He wanted to love him forever, to treasure every single second when they were together, to have other encounters like the one they experienced at Westfordshire and to go home breathless and shaking.

“Talk to me,” Dean said softly, his hand from on top of the chair lifting, allowing curled fingers to lightly caress Castiel’s right cheek. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Ocean Eyes.”

He couldn’t tell him about the change. It just might come out the wrong way. “Well, I keep remembering what happened the last time we saw each other.” Reaching up, he pushed his black framed glasses a little up his nose from being nervous.

Dean lowered his eyes and chuckled. “I shocked you, huh.”

“I wasn’t expecting it for sure, but it was rather enlightening. Do you often do things like that to the people you’re with? Or was it a moment that was spurred by your feelings for me?” Castiel searched those green eyes.

“The latter. You…drive…me…insane,” Dean said in a low voice. He sipped his beer and swallowed. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s a wild kind of feeling that makes me live in a considerable balance between a high and a low and it’s so close to beautiful. Because I’m hardly ever level, Cas. All I’ve ever been is either manic or depressed. But with you…I feel like I can finally walk a straight line without toppling over the edge.”

Castiel blinked slowly, feeling every single word. “I’m glad that I can balance you, Dean.”

“It’s not just about balance,” the Prince lowered his beer near his shoe polished to a shine. “It’s more like…okay so the average person settles on that balance. Sometimes things happen to drive them up or down, depending on the situation. For all my life, I’ve been either extremely high,” he lifted his hand, “or in the pits of hell low,” Dean demonstrated by touching the mouth of his beer. “Now, the first month after you left, I was on a decline. I’m talking like literally feeling like I was going into a coma. And I stayed there for days without even knowing what the hell was happening around me because my mind was drawing blanks.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel said in a pained tone. “I was low but I can’t ever compare my experience to yours.”

The two of them gazed at each other. “I went up high in the second month. Had a manic episode that made me kick Sam’s ass. He found me beating my anger and frustration into the walls of the room where we last saw each other. It was like…I was trying to destroy every damn painful thing about us. In the end he had to restrain me and then in the third month, I found that balance. I started flatlining when the anger faded and was replaced by the same love I felt for you in the beginning. The same kind of fleeting feeling that makes you feel like you’re about to jump off a cliff and spread your wings…”

Castiel smiled. “I know that feeling.”

“I bet you do. It’s where you keep me. Like right now, I can sit here and look at you and fucking…love you with all I have. And I don’t have to worry about sailing up or falling down because I finally have you here.”

When Dean said those things to him, at first, he clearly didn’t know how to respond. He was always speechless and hated that he couldn’t find the perfect answer.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” Castiel said in his gravelly tone. “I’m here to stay for as long as you’ll let me.”

“I kind of went a little hard on the weights though,” Dean flexed his right arm and his muscles bulged beautifully. “Is it a turn off to you?”

“Dean, I’d have you any way I can.”

The Prince reached for the bowls in the basket and handed one over to Castiel. Then Dean poked his fork into some tuna and suddenly smiled around the prongs.

“What?” Castiel was amused by the adorable expression. He loved how the wind played with the other man’s hair, a few strands curling over his left temple.

“I just want to tell you everything about me. I’ve never felt so much like an open book with anyone. Not even Rowena.”

“The psychiatrist with the flaming red hair,” Castiel admired the Prince’s appetite and how he could devour his meal in a short span of time because he moved at a glacial pace. “She seems rather intimidating to me. The night at the dinner, I felt as if she was peeling back every goddamn layer in my mind.”

Dean shook his head and offered a shrug. “She’s good like that. Like…really good.”

They sat there in solace for a while, admiring the light afternoon wind playing with the curtains. The whispers in the trees and the dance of the weeds like a thick carpet leading back to the castle. The soft lapping of the water on the edge of the river. And the pealing of a bell somewhere in the distance.

Those were everything else apart from the song of Dean Winchester though.

The sound of him breathing measured and suggesting a relaxed state. The way he would chuckle when their eyes met, soft and flirty. That honest blush that covered his neck and his beautiful face. The sound of him sighing once and a while as something breathtaking captured his attention apart from the man sitting across from him.

“When I was a teenager, about fourteen, I started using meth,” Dean said, after Castiel packed away his empty container. “I know, it was a crazy idea but at the time, I wanted to find anyway to cope.”

Castiel sighed. His beer was growing warm. “I completely understand that.”

Emerald orbs widened. “You do?”

“I had an ecstasy phase in my twenties after the divorce. Believe me, it was a way of coping.”

Dean silently observed the other man’s countenance and then he slowly sipped his beer. “How did you get yourself off of it, Cas?” he asked softly. “Did you just stop? Or…”

“No, no, I…” Castiel shook his head, stared at the forest behind Dean for a while and then he sighed. “My addiction lasted for two years simply because I had an abundance of it at my hand reach and I constantly lived for the euphoria. But then one morning I woke up naked and shivering on the balcony outside my apartment and I had an epiphany. That one day more and I would possibly find myself flattened on the street below. Tell me about your meth phase.”

Dean lowered his gaze. “Well, I was sent to Scotland when my father found out. I think it was the one thing that he did for me that was good in a way because the school was like a manual labor camp for boys. Had us grinding day and night to build fences and work machines. Plow grass and dig trenches. And along the way, I got into fights and had experiences with boys that made me so sure that I wasn’t straight.”

Castiel smiled and shook his head. “Why is it that these experiences happen mostly at schools for boys? You know my brother said the same thing to me? He went to a Catholic school for boys and actually had many experiences too.”

Dean was blushing. “It’s kind of unavoidable. You know, being around your gender whilst your hormones are raging. And whilst most boys did it to ease sexual tension, I kind of did because I wanted it. That’s how I got the nickname ‘Prince D’.”

“As in d for dick?” Castiel chuckled. He always wanted the light in the other man’s eyes to stay.

“Kind of get ashamed when I see my mates now after all these years and they still use that name on me. Even Benny started calling me that after a couple of times. Hey, do you want another beer?” when the other man declined, he closed the flap on the basket.

“How did you meet him?” Castiel asked, his insides melting when Dean’s curled fingers caressed his arm lightly. The flame was low in those emerald eyes but still ignited. “Benny, I mean.”

“So, I was nine. And…” Dean’s eyes lingered on the other man’s neck and boldly, he played his fingers on Castiel’s blushed skin. “My mom had to make a public appearance at the HIV/AIDS Ward at Saint Andrew’s Hospital. She’s always been more active than John when it comes to caring for people and showing it. Anyway, so she told me to wait in the car because I was throwing a tantrum. And I got out of the car and ran after her.”

“Always the rebel,” Castiel’s eyes sparkled with humor.

“I know, right?” Dean returned the smile, showing teeth; his signature Colgate look. “So, we go in, and for the first time ever, I come face to face with the number of people in the ward to begin with. I’m talking like close to fifty. And whilst she was giving her speech in front of everyone, I walked up to this guy. And I was like “hey, is it true that if I touch you, I’ll die?” and…”

“Jesus, Dean,” Castiel stared back in shock as the Prince snorted. “Why on earth would you?”

“In my defense, that’s what Adam told me.” The two of them laughed and they reached out for each other’s hands without realizing. “So, the guy was like “no, if you touch me, you wouldn’t die. You want to try?” and I remember when I poked his arm, this nurse, like raging, runs up to me and she’s throwing a fit. Screaming, “Benny, you can’t do that! Do you know who this is?” and then Benny…he turns to her and he’s like. “Damn right I know who this is. It’s the little Prince”, and the very same afternoon, like every radio in the country kept replaying the story over an over again. And since then, Benny has never stopped calling me Little Prince. Well, apart from Prince D.”

Castiel’s heart was melting, and he entwined their fingers, desiring so much to touch the other man in any way he could. Their eyes were on each other and he squeezed the Prince’s soft hand that were warm and beautiful.

“I remember spending my entire allowance on taking care of him when he was hospitalized. They wouldn’t let me see him. And over the years, he’s been more of a father to me than my own flesh and blood. Family don’t ever end in blood, Cas.”

Sighing, Castiel shook his head and lowered their entwined fingers onto his lap. “Tell me about it. Your care for Benny is so admirable. I’m sorry to hear that he is positive.”

Dean, after considering the meeting of their hands, inhaled deeply. “He got it from his partner Alex, about six years ago. They’re still together.”

“Were they together when he contracted it?” Castiel was curious.

“Yeah, it’s complicated. But he always keeps telling me that when you love someone, you make the hardest choices. And I never got that before but after meeting you, I finally understand.”

Castiel realized something; that when he played with Dean’s hands and his fingers, there was something inside of him that lit up like a small lamp. It wasn’t his heart. Maybe there were empty parts inside of him that were created by Hanna and everything else that deprived him of love and now Dean was filling those spaces with the softest warmth.

“Walking away from you was my second hardest decision in my life, Dean,” Castiel admitted whilst he rubbed his thumb affectionately across the other man’s palm. “The first was running away from home.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Dean asked softly, melting inside from the intimate caresses. “If you don’t, then it’s okay.”

“Didn’t you find enough information the first time you dug up my skeletons?” Castiel was calm. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m way past that intrusion. Don’t apologize. It was understandable and the reason why I felt so wounded by it was because I’ve never been proud of my past.”

“Us both.” Dean tilted his head and offered an apologetic smile regardless. “I never dug into your past, Cas. I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“You…idiot!” Castiel reached out and softly squeezed the other man’s upper arm. What he felt was an abundance of muscle and it was so damn appealing. “Why would you tease me like that?”

“Because you’re so adorable when you get worked up,” Dean smiled mischievously.

“Then how do you know I’m the rebel in my family?”

The Prince shrugged. “You have that look in your eyes. The rebellious look. The aura of independence. It’s quite sexy. It’s what mostly drew me to you in the washroom at the Brighton, apart from your t-shirt, of course. And I’ve got to tell you, Cas,” their eyes met. “If my father didn’t die, I wasn’t going to wait this year out. I was going to fly to New York to get you, no matter what the cost to me because you’re like a drug that I can’t live without.”

They gazed at each other for a long time whilst the afternoon settled into a quieter Sunday. The surface on the Thames grew glassy and the bells stopped pealing. Then when the two of them were quite bored from sitting in one attitude, Dean led the way, and Castiel followed, both of them ending up a few inches from the water.

“I left home when I was eighteen,” Castiel said, growing dizzy from the actuality of Dean standing a little behind him. Their hands were still entwined and when he glanced behind him, the other man was smiling warmly like he always did. “It was my time to go off to college and I didn’t want to study law like they both wanted. It was their money and therefore they obviously made the choices.”

“So you walked out,” Dean slowly snaked his arms round Castiel’s hips whilst keeping a few inches of distance from behind.

“I…did,” his mind was spinning, knowing how close they were and dying to be touched so much more. “I spent five years putting myself through night classes at a community learning center to become certified in journalism. I remembered sleeping in Gabe’s dorm room and then at Michael’s…my brothers. And then I started writing articles for small newsletters until I wrote a piece on an affair a popular businessman at the time was having with a married woman.”

“And you were hired by The Daily Scandal.” By that time, Dean felt himself drawn to Castiel, so drawn to the other man, that he closed the distance between them, eating up the inches and bringing their bodies together.

“Is this what it feels like to be courted by a Prince?” Castiel’s gravelly voice was hoarser; terribly affected by the desire, by the warmth and the feel of Dean glued to him from behind and the way they fitted so perfectly together.

“Yeah,” when Dean kissed behind Castiel’s neck, his entire body awakened. “Do you feel me?”

“I feel you.” Castiel stopped breathing, when he savored warm breath replaced by soft kisses. Dean’s chest and arms enveloped him into so much comfort and love and security.

“All of me?”

Castiel swallowed hard from the exactness of that statement. “All of you. Deannn,” he moaned when the other man pressed a chaste kiss below his left ear, sending little warm waves through his body and it was something he never felt before in his life. “God, that feels…incredible. How do you…”

“Shh,” the Prince grazed his teeth on flushed skin, then trailed a pathway to where Castiel’s neck met his left shoulder. And softly, he sucked on that tender spot, right where he could feel the other man melt like butter in his arms.

Castiel was opening up like he never did before because no one ever touched him the way Dean did, kissed him in places that felt so tender. Those spots were so sensitive, he wondered how on earth Dean knew where to go with his mouth and how to hold him so close in just the most perfect and blissful way.

They swayed a little on the spot and the Prince buried his face into Castiel’s hair whilst he lowered their entwined hands. He waited on permission to touch Castiel where he was already aching and hard. And when Castiel guided their hands below his waist, Dean held him tighter as he grew weaker.

Castiel’s knees were jelly, that’s what he remembered. Dean was doing all the right things, touching him tenderly where he only dreamt of being touched through the front of his jeans. Then the Prince kept breathing into his hair, exciting his pores and he could feel Dean’s heartbeat; so quick and strong and he was certain of one thing.

No matter what happened, he wanted nobody else but Dean Winchester.

“What do you…think,” Castiel couldn’t even form a proper question when he felt those bold hands slipping between his legs. “Austen,” he was breathless when Dean traced the outline of his cock from the outside of his jeans. And he was so hard and so breathy from being touched like that.

“What.”  Dean chuckled with his face still buried into the other man’s neck whilst he caressed him.

Castiel inhaled deeply with his eyes squeezed shut. “What do you think our Jane Austen novel would be called?” he rushed out in one breath and then completely let himself go, drowning again as Dean wrapped his hands around his waist and pressed their bodies closer together.

“Pride…” Dean whispered into Castiel’s neck. “…and Prince Charming.”

“Because?”

“Because we both have pride in what our pasts built us into. Naturally, I’m the Prince Charming.”

“Who’s prideful now?” Castiel laughed but his breath was taken away when Dean helped himself to an abundance of touches, slow needy touches that were delivered from the waist of his jeans to even lower.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone…ever…Cas. I’m so…high on you. Do you feel what you do to me? I’m…a million miles away with you right now.”

“No, come back. I…” he could say it so easily now. “I love you, Dean.”

But then they swayed some more and Castiel kept waiting for the Prince to return the same three words that were never spoken, not even when Dean untangled himself and pulled away, Castiel turned around and stared as the other man walked backwards with a look of utter admiration and love on his face but still those words were never said.

Then they were sitting again under the gazebo and Castiel just remained silent.

Dean retrieved an apple from the basket with a knife and after cutting it into pieces, his eyes were like pools of green to drown inside, to become lost and Castiel stayed there in those eyes.

He forgot what he was longing to hear when Dean reached out and offered a slice of the apple, boldly sliding the slice between Castiel’s parted lips.

Their eyes never left each other. They were holding onto that feeling and chasing it. And as he chewed, Dean rubbed his thumb so seductively over his lips, slowly and certain. Castiel’s eyes fluttered close as a soft sigh escaped his body.

The journey towards Northampton was possibly the most captivating feeling of all because he felt like their souls were still sitting under the gazebo. He felt like they were tethering in that moment in time and he would suffer from jetlag soon enough. But then Dean reached out and took his hand and entwined their fingers reassuringly again and almost immediately, Castiel found his balance again.

“I have to leave for a week,” Dean said regrettably whilst they passed through the trees and listened to the leaves rustling. “My flight’s at midnight.”

Castiel instantly felt like his heart sunk lower. He swallowed. “Oh. Where are you going?”

“This time to Spain. I have to finalize an agreement of trade that my father lapsed on for months.”

“Is Annalise going with you?” Castiel meant it as a light question but hated how he felt so burdened by the thought.

And Dean noticed immediately. He studied the other man’s disposition. “No, she’s not. By the way, my Spanish sucks. I never took the classes and although she tried to teach me, I only know a few phrases like…te amo, Cas.”

He could still feel Dean’s eyes on him, waiting for a reaction and was melting inside from the return of the words he uttered earlier, even if those words were spoken in another language. But he couldn’t say anything. He just couldn’t breathe.

“You shouldn’t be jealous of anyone else, Cas,” Dean said in a soft tone. He inched closer and bumped their shoulders together. “Come on, smile for me.”

Castiel sighed, eyes lowered as they walked. “I can’t help it. Just being who you are is enough to earn you a billion admirers, no matter where you go or what you do. People will always want you just as much as I do. Women…men,” he couldn’t stop. “And then there’s me who…gets to be touched by you and told so many things about who you are.”

“Cas, look at me,” Dean stopped as they neared where the journey started off earlier just behind the castle. And he reached for the other man’s hands, taking them and squeezing them gingerly when blue eyes found his. “I…love you, alright? I love you. Not anyone else because there will never be another person. And do you know why?”

“Why?” Castiel held their gaze and became lost in emerald.

“Because when you left London three months ago, you didn’t take half of my heart with you. You took the entire thing, and that’s why I was lost without you. I couldn’t think or breathe. I couldn’t eat or sleep. Now you come back to me and you honestly believe that there is anyone out there who is worthy of my love? Who will make me feel the way I feel about you?”

Dean took the other man’s face tenderly between his palms, his fingers curling into soft hair. “Cas, will you have me?” he asked in a soft, but steady tone. “As yours? Will you let me court you? Will you…as you say in most parts of the world, be in a relationship with me?”

That small smile melted the Castiel’s heart and he sighed. His chest heaved uncontrollably. “In every lifetime,” he whispered. “I’ll always be yours, Dean. I’ll take you any way you are, for as long as I can have you.”

“Okay, so when I go anywhere and my crazy fangirls ask me if I’m free, I’ll tell them that I’ll never be available in any lifetime to come because I’ve found a king who owns my heart. My own special person who I can’t live without.”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel’s face softened as tears clouded his eyes. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t,” the Prince drew him nearer and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “I love you,” Dean said softly, kissing Castiel’s left eyebrow. His lips lingered there. “I love you,” he continued, kissing the tip of his nose and slipping off his glasses. “I love you,” Dean pressed another kiss onto Castiel’s right cheek and felt the other man hold onto him like the ground was about to open up and swallow them both.

“Dean, Castiel whispered hoarsely.

“I love you,” the Prince brushed their lips together, their eyes fluttering close.

This time though, there were no interruptions but the pounding of Castiel’s heart and the weakening of his knees as he held onto the man he loved. He kept feeling Dean’s warm breath and becoming flushed, thinking nothing else other than feeling. And when his parted lips were finally tasted by Dean, Castiel moaned deeply.

His toes curled in his boots, as Dean’s hands wound around his waist and deepened their first kiss. Castiel tilted his head and felt Dean’s passion; how he was so damn good at moving in and capturing his bottom lip and pulling, teasing him with a soft smile and then coming in again like the rains after a hot summer.

When those green eyes fluttered open, there were flames behind them and Castiel crushed their lips together again because he wanted to be burnt.

He kissed Dean back like he was trying to search for something inside of him and was so hungry for what Dean tasted like, never wanting to stop.

Castiel never wanted to let go. He never wanted Dean’s fingers to slip away from holding him nor feel the absence of those fingertips digging into his back. So Castiel kissed him with everything he possessed; all the pain and tears from their three months apart.

The doubts of falling in love with him. The lyrics of Helen Shapiro in the background when he first confessed that he loved him. The way his heart skipped beats when Dean played ‘Ocean Eyes’ for him on the piano.

Castiel give him his all, every single emotion he emptied into their kiss and although his mind was growing so dizzy, and they were barely pulling apart to breath a little, he didn’t stop.

They both wanted to die from suffocating as their tongues found a sensual flow. Dean kept smiling into their breaks, kissing like the goddamn pro he was with so many soft pecks that fitted their mouths perfectly together. Then when they finally found the strength to pull away, it took them a while to catch their breaths.

It was fleeting, like falling from the sky with their arms flailing and Dean didn’t want to let him go. He kept Castiel’s face between his palms and the two of them breathed into each other’s parted lips because the passion between them was so strong.

“I’ve waited too long to do that,” Dean’s chest heaved uncontrollably. “I feel like I’m going to have a goddamn heart attack. Cas.” He hugged the other man as tight as he could, their bodies fitting together again and buried his face into the warmth of Castiel’s neck.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

Castiel squeaked. “I can’t feel my legs. I think I’ve lost them.”

“Here they are,” Dean wound one of his around the other man’s right leg and tugged him in closer enough to sandwich their bodies together.

Immediately, Castiel melted into Dean’s arms, burying his face deeper into the other man’s neck and never wanting to let go.

Dean chuckled. “Can you imagine what will happen to us when we finally make love to each other?” He allowed their eyes to meet as the actuality of how awakened they were from being so near was felt immediately.

“Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” The Prince smiled and offered a look of uncertainty.

Castiel swallowed. “Don’t leave me like you did the last time we parted ways. It was an uncomfortable ride back to my apartment and I had to take a long cold shower.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded and rested their foreheads together. “Next time, before you take that shower, call me.”

“You’re not helping right now,” Castiel groaned, refusing to let go. “Why do you have to leave for a week? I want to go with you but I have to work from tomorrow.”

“Next week time like now,” Dean said as he slipped on the other man’s glasses, “I’ll be coming back and I’ll can’t wait to kiss you again. I promise you that I’ll make up for not being here by calling and texting.”

“Every chance that you get?” Castiel found that he could become so soft in those moments.

“Every single chance that I get.”

“Will you send me selfies of you?”

Dean was blushing so deeply. “I will. I hope that you enjoy your new job. If they give you a rough time, just let them know who your boyfriend is.”

“And who is that again?” Castiel frowned. “I keep forgetting.”

“Me,” Dean chuckled, overly happy. “My huggy bear.”

“No, don’t,” whining like a petulant child, Castiel tugged the other man closer, “don’t leave me please. Dean.”

When the softness in those blue eyes signaled that a grand amount of affection still needed to be tenderly savored, the Prince smiled and pulled Castiel into his arms again. Slowly, the two of them hugged each other and swayed as the leaves rustled in the trees and the world around them was silent and beautiful. Just the beating of their hearts filled their minds, as well as the rush of desire welling up.

“I want…you,” Castiel moaned into Dean’s right ear, “I want you so much and I don’t want to take things slow. We’ve already been through three…months without each other. You must know what that feels like to dream and have nothing left but a ghost.”

Dean carded his fingers into Castiel’s hair and pressed their cheeks together tenderly. “I know. Believe me I know what that feels like but we can’t go fast, darling. We really can’t and you’ll need to trust me on that because I’ve been there before and I know that the rush is all exciting and gets things going but the feelings die down too fast. Remember when I was chasing you like there was no tomorrow?” When Castiel nodded slowly, Dean wrapped his arms around the other man tighter. “Well, I kept wanting you until it was driving me crazy and then I began to realize that I needed to work on so many other things first before getting there.”

“Aren’t you the wise one now.”

“It’s not like that,” Dean chuckled, “I’m just more aware of how much I have to lose now by rushing things as compared to how much could be gained by taking things slow. I want to get to know you,” he rested their foreheads together and their eyes met. “I want to have more conversations with you before we see each other…naked. How I feel about you scares me, Cas. It’s so strong and I’m afraid that if I take what I want from you, then I’ll leave us wanting each other mostly in a physical way when…truthfully, we didn’t start out like that.”

Castiel melted and sighed. “You’re right. Absolutely right. Fuck, I feel like a teenager who is horny and regretfully begging when I should know better.”

“Don’t be regretful about it. You deserve it. I’m just asking you to let me love you and show you some more of me before we go there, okay?”

Castiel rubbed their noses together and nodded. “Okay, got you crystal clear. Now I should leave before we break that oath and we wake up naked next to each other tomorrow.”

“I really am loving how that sounds, Cas.”

The two of them parted a good night kiss and then light hearts running free.

Chapter Text

I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be…yours.”

― Edward Ferrars, Sense and Sensibility

Castiel came to the conclusion after a week in his new post that he was suddenly appealing to a lot more women than before.

Maybe it was expected; after all, there is a general saying that a man or woman who is tied down seems to be rushed more than when they have no attachments. But goodness, the flow of praises and flirtatious advances were bothersome to say the least because if it wasn’t Sally Kendall from the office checking out his ass by the water cooler, it was a random group of women giggling and blushing whilst he took a stroll down the street.

He couldn’t label the experience as anything short from annoying. But there were times when the gratitude of his sexiness on their faces were motivating especially after Dean never really delivered on his promise to keep in touch during the week of absence.

Castiel had to admit that he tried to gain some satisfaction from sending his first attempts at flirty texts. Simple at first and nothing too forward, but more like messages related to their last time spent together and their first kiss because he couldn’t ever forget the kiss; the first blissful moment he ever experienced in his life, and shared with another man. And it was beautiful to live through over and over again, even when he was settling down at work.

But Dean’s lack of responses terribly worried Castiel in the days to follow because the paranoia just wouldn’t evaporate.

He kept thinking that maybe the other man hadn’t really enjoyed his company. Maybe Dean was consumed by second thoughts about their connection. Maybe the kiss really sucked or Castiel wasn’t appealing anymore.

On the third day after Dean proposedly left to visit Spain, Castiel discovered two shocking bits of news from Sam. Firstly, Annalise did indeed accompany the Prince on his trip out of the country. And secondly, the purpose of the trip wasn’t business related but more of a recreational purpose; to help his mother settle into Scotland.

Evidently, the emotions that consumed Castiel weren’t too tremendous because of his natural composure. He allowed the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps the plans were changed in the last minute and Dean had every right to make decisions on his own.

However, when the final blow hit him on Friday whilst he was sipping on some merlot, Castiel started to worry tremendously on the substance of their commitment to each other.

Ruby, after coming in from the rain and shaking off her leather jacket, cast one look at him and sighed. After all, she was frequenting his apartment every afternoon in the hopes of keeping his company whilst Dean was away. But when she stumbled onto a depressing scene of her friend lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling and unresponsive, Ruby shrugged off her jacket and darted towards him.

“What in living hell happened?” prying the bottle of merlot from Castiel’s right hand, she rested it on the table and checked him for a fever.

Letting out a long sigh, as if he was holding his breath for over an hour, Castiel blinked. “He’s been lying to me.”

Ruby, at first was confused. “Who?”

“Dean,” he sounded so lifeless and really and truly didn’t know how to feel or what to think anymore.

When she stared at him in disbelief, Castiel provided her with the details on Annalise and Scotland. Then slowly rising from the sofa like a corpse, his complexion pasty, he simply gave in to Ruby’s embrace. And for a long time neither of them said anything whilst she stroked his hair and debated inwardly on what could have happened that serve as a justifiable excuse.

“You know, maybe like you said, it was last minute. But it’s weird because Mary had to make preparations from way before to leave that night. So, he needed to know that he’d be heading over there.”

“Then why would he lie to me?”

Ruby sighed. “I don’t know, Cas. You should ask him. Have you even talked to him since Sunday?”

Castiel felt like he was reaching for something in the dark and couldn’t find it. “Make your judgments from these,” he opened his mobile and showed her the messages.

Monday

Castiel: Hi, I miss you already. I miss your kiss. Did you arrive safely?

Dean: Hi. I did. Miss you more.

Castiel: Can I call you? I’d like to hear your voice because I kind of had a tough day at work.

Dean: Can’t talk now.

Castiel: Oh, okay. Call me when you can.

Tuesday

Castiel: Dean, I love you.

Dean: Love you sm. I’m so sleepy. Meds…

Castiel: Love you more. Sweet dreams. I’ll call you tomorrow.

“Did you call?” Ruby’s heart was aching from the simple messages but the depth behind those words. “After Tuesday?”

Castiel sighed. “I was so swamped in work, editing articles and getting them ready for posting, that by the time I got a break to breathe, it was after 5. And when I came out of the shower that afternoon, there were two missed calls from him.”

She experienced a sinking feeling inside her chest. She really didn’t like the coincidences. “Did you call back?” Ruby asked with a frown.

“I did. I called him four times and he didn’t pick up,” Castiel’s voice took on a hoarser quality. “I was so worried. On Thursday I called again and no answer. Then check what he sent me today.” He gestured at the phone.

Castiel: Hi, I’ve tried calling you several times. Dean, are you okay? I’m worried.

Dean: Why didn’t you pick up when I called you? I needed you.

Castiel: I’m so sorry, I was in the shower and only saw your calls after. Talk to me now.

Dean: I’m not ok. You wouldn’t understand how I spaced out. Do you know that after I kissed you, I realized that you’re the only person who makes me feel anything good about myself? Everything else just hurts and I don’t want you to be burdened by me.

Dean: I want to be with you all the goddamn time and I had to leave because I don’t want to overwhelm you and make you feel like I’m too clingy. I’ve been back since yesterday.

Dean: Do you even want me anymore? I bet you don’t because I’m too much to handle.

Castiel: Dean, you will never be a burden to me. If you want to be with me, all you have to do is call me or text. And I’ll be there for you. I promise you that I will drop everything I’m doing to be there. Because I love you so much. Are you really back in England? I’d like to see you now.

Dean: No. I don’t want you to see me like this.

Castiel: Okay, can we talk then? I’m going to call you. Please pick up.

“That was six hours ago,” Castiel’s eyes glistened with tears. “I’ve tried calling what? Twenty times so far and nothing. I…fuck! I feel helpless,” he pulled out of her embrace and stood up. “So damn helpless like I can’t even do anything to make him feel better because—” when his mobile started to chirp, Castiel’s heart leapt.

“Nah, it’s not him,” Ruby frowned and handed over the phone. “It’s some other number. Go ahead, I’ll just try to sit here and mull things over.”

When he answered the call though, Castiel wasn’t prepared for who was on the other end. And after their brief greeting and Annalise asking if he could spare her some time to talk, he wandered towards the window seat. But although the view beyond the panes was breathtaking with the sky splashed pink and orange, he couldn’t even find the beauty.

“Have you heard from Dean?” Castiel asked right away, still fearing the worst. “I’ve been trying to call him but he’s not picking up. Is he okay?”

Annalise sighed. “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” the worry laced in between her words weren’t undetectable. “I haven’t seen him since Monday night when I left Scotland. I didn’t know he was going with Mary until I got there and then Dean just ditched us. Well, it’s nothing new.”

He waited on her to continue and when she didn’t, Castiel pressed on. “What do you mean?”

“He ghosts people,” Annalise said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “It’s his thing and he gets like that because of being bipolar. For years I’ve had to cope with him disappearing on everyone.”

“But weren’t you ever worried that his depressed state might be detrimental?” He couldn’t understand why she was so calm about the entire ordeal.

“It never is, Cas,” Annalise sighed. “Not for Dean because he’s not suicidal. I’m just really willing to help you understand because loving him will never be easy, Cas.”

“I know that, and thank you,” Castiel said as his throat tightened because the last thing he desired was to be reminded that anything about loving Dean or being in love was easy. It never was from the beginning.

“No, I don’t think that you do. He will ghost you,” she said softly, “he might not talk to you for three days or even a week. Sometimes he might lie in bed and he wouldn’t get up, no matter how much you try. But when he gets like that, all you can do is give him space. Give him as much time as he needs and respect his boundaries because if you try to force him to get up or get better, he will become worse.”

Swallowing hard, Castiel stared out the window and felt soft tears wet his cheeks.

He loved Dean so much, that he was willing to do anything to help him. But here was Annalise, asking him to stay away when Dean was in his lowest moments.

“So, I can’t even talk to him? I can’t…hold him? Or be there for him?” his voice cracked and Ruby drifted nearer. “Forgive me but I can’t comply.”

“Of course, you can, Cas,” Annalise said softly. “That’s what I want you to do. Just…find him however you can and stay with him because sometimes he will need you so much, Cas. He might want you to hug him in the middle of the night and when you’re not there, he has no one else to turn to. And you need to know that whatever happens, if he fights you or says hurtful things whilst he’s having an episode, he will always love you in the end.”

Castiel couldn’t even spare a few words.

Instead, resting his face onto the window frame, his chest cracked from the pain of never being able to understand how Dean was struggling with his mind. He could collapse suddenly and then keep trying as hard as he could to fight his way out of that pit of darkness.

“I can’t be there for him right now, Cas,” she said after a while. “I need you to take over from me. I’m in Spain again. And Cas? Just know that he loves you endlessly and because he does, it’s easier for him to fight this. But he needs you there with him in any way you can manage.”

When he ended the call, Castiel related as much as possible to Ruby. And she in turn, immediately rushed for her jacket and handed his over with one clear intent; to find Dean.

They took a taxi and by the time Northampton Castle loomed in the distance, Castiel was consumed from a rush of nerves.

He kept fearing the worst even though Annalise warned against it because since yesterday morning, Dean did return from Scotland and was possibly drowning inside his room all alone.

Castiel never thought that he would take the steps two at a time in the fashion forced upon him at nine pm on a Friday night. The rain came down heavier by the time the doorman bowed him into the depths of the castle that was dimly lit. And because Ruby decided against accompanying him inside, Castiel felt more relieved that he was on his own for two reasons.

Firstly, to safeguard Dean’s privacy, because an intrusion by anyone else except for himself might be detrimental. And secondly, he wasn’t quite ready for Ruby to witness how deeply affected he was by Dean’s presence, how the other man tremendously weakened his composure. And because of these things, his friend departed in the taxi with the promise that he would call her if assistance was needed.

The castle was never traversed before at night by Castiel, so that when he was accompanied by one of the staff through the dimly lit corridors, the walls seemed to close down on him. And the sconces flickered greatly from the heavy gusts of wind through the opened windows.

The entire ambience was generously haunting and eerie and by the time he was ushered into Dean’s bed chambers, Castiel couldn’t even remark on the size of the room. The tremendous grandeur that was contained in a space the size of his entire apartment couldn’t even unearth a reaction from him.

Immediately, the young lady whose name was Paris, went in further towards the large canopy bed. The heavy blue drapes were barely drawn and Dean’s balcony doors were still wide open, letting in an abundance of wind. So, naturally, Castiel rushed towards that direction of the room and pulled in the heavy doors. He then latched it as Paris hovered by Dean’s bedside and from where he stood, the drapes blocked his view from what she stumbled upon.

Her eyes darted about nervously. “He’s sleeping,” she wrung those small hands and approached him cautiously. “What should I do?”

“Nothing for now, thanks,” Castiel slowly pulled off his trench coat and draped it over the back of a black leather chair in the corner.

“If you need anything sir, please pick up the phone and dial 001”, and then after checking on her boss one more time without intruding, she left, closing the doors behind her.

It took all the energy inside of him to wait on her departure before rushing towards the bed because he really didn’t want to reveal his concerns in front of the young woman.

There may be nothing to worry about, and stirring up fear would be the last thing he wanted to achieve at that hour of the night. And when Castiel finally drew closer, holding his breath, he was instantly softened by the scene.

Dean was wrapped inside a heavy caramel colored blanket from head to toe like a taco. He was sleeping on his right side, facing the balcony and large windows overlooking the river Thames, only recognized from the sprinkle of lights through the heavy rain. And his face was so peaceful by the glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

Castiel’s heart melted when he lightly caressed the other man’s cheek. He was so cold though, possibly from the heavy winds that were tumbling into the opened doors. And as much as he tried to refrain from awaking the man, Castiel lightly perched on the edge of the bed and he kept on tenderly touching Dean’s face.

There wasn’t enough room to describe how he felt in that moment; possibly a mixture of fear and sadness and absolute love. But one thing was for certain; he was relieved to be there with the man he loved. To be so close to him and to touch his face, knowing that he wasn’t crying at the moment, nor hurting from the demons inside his head and Dean was sleeping and peaceful and he was okay.

For now.

For most of the night though, Castiel didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, he silently curled up on the window seat and lost himself in the passing lights of ships.

When the rain lightened, he quietly unlatched the window and pushed it open enough to let some fresh air into the room. Then at some point after three in the morning, Castiel tucked himself into the nearest chair by Dean’s bed and he fell into a deep slumber.

The soft feel of someone brushing their fingers upon his face caused him to lightly stir sometime in the night. But he was too exhausted to lift himself out of those blissful dreams of Dean. Then Castiel barely opened his eyes when thunder rolled above the castle and a heavy shower hammered on the world outside. And he pulled his cold feet under the heavy blanket, not even realizing that he didn’t fallen asleep under one.

Castiel finally woke up to the smell of scrambled eggs and coffee and birds chirping. And at first, his mind was dazed from the likeness of the light peach tapestry, the soft black carpet and double doors leading onto a wide balcony made from white stone. Then pulling his feet out of the blanket, those blue eyes finally realized where he spent the night after gazing at the canopy bed and the remarkable room.

Dean’s room.

There were wall sconces behind black brackets and finely polished oak tables with antique lamps. The heavy darker peach curtains were pulled away to reveal an overcast Saturday. And when he sat up further, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, Castiel spied the framed photos on the opposite wall from Dean’s bed; of the most beautiful famous quotes from Jane Austen’s novels.

There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love

It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do

Know your own happiness. Want for nothing but patience – or give it a more fascinating name: Call it hope

“Huggy bear,” Dean startled Castiel after appearing by a doorway. He cheerfully came towards the other man with a warm smile upon his face, fetching a tray that contained fine china cups and a teapot. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

At first, of course he was taken aback by the cheerful disposition; the way those green eyes weren’t brightly sparkling but just enough to match the small smile on Dean’s handsome sleepy face. But most of all, Castiel was deeply affected by how adorable the Prince appeared still dressed in his hot dog printed pajama and a long dark grey outer coat.

“Good morning, I did. And did you?”

“Managed as much. Tea,” Dean carefully lowered himself onto the chair next to Castiel, balancing the tray on his thighs. “Now you’ve got to tell me what you think of this blend,” he continued as his countenance reflected nothing from the prior night or days. “It’s kind of like chai but not so much chai. Mostly missing the spices but with a lot of chamomile and honey.”

After pouring two cups, he handed the first over and briefly their eyes met. But it was enough to reveal the truth; that Dean spent a considerable amount of time crying because his eyes were slightly reddened and he looked terribly fatigued.

The messages between them since Wednesday still replayed over and over in his mind. The depth of Dean’s woes and the disbelief that his love for him was substantial enough lingered in Castiel’s mind. But looking at the other man’s face didn’t reveal those tormented words or the frightful state he was in prior. Instead, Dean was forcefully cheerful, abundantly talkative and absolutely open.

“Dean,” Castiel took the other man’s left hand and squeezed his fingers. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, really,” Dean inhaled deeply and rested the tray on a table nearby. Then he slowly sipped the tea whilst they still tenderly held hands. “Go on,” he urged, feet curled up under the blanket and turning to consider Castiel. “Taste it. Tell me if it isn’t the best tea you’ve ever had.”

The first sip was a small one, but just enough to discover that the taste was exceptional. “It is. Did you make this?” Castiel asked softly.

“Yep.”

For a while, Castiel simply glorified his worried mind by gazing upon the other man’s disposition.

There was so much of a struggle happening in every single action; whether it was the slight tremble of Dean’s fingers, or the shifty eyes. Whether it was the light, breathless tone and the overly chatty mood to somehow serve as a distraction from reality. And whilst he wasn’t equipped with enough as Annalise over the years, Castiel was learning that Dean could be the most amazing warrior he ever met in his entire life.

“Are you taking your medication?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean carefully rested the teacup on the tray. The soft flip of hair resting on his right temple was too tempting to caress. “Yeah I am. Shit happens. I’m sorry. You know, for making you come all the way here to babysit me.”

“That’s not what this is. I came here because I love you,” Castiel took the other man’s hands between his and squeezed them. “Look at me, Dean.” When their eyes finally met in a deepened gaze, he implored understanding, “there is nothing else in the world that I want more than to be with you. Can you please remember that?”

Dean smiled wryly and twisted the end of the blanket between his fingers. “I’m trying.” But his voice cracked tremendously under pressure that was concealed behind a wall.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Castiel tenderly reached out and caressed Dean’s cheeks that instantly flushed and he studied the color dusting the other man’s neck curiously. “What is it?”

Biting his lips and appearing bashful all of a sudden, Dean shrugged. “You…just called me sweetheart. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Do you like it?”

Dean nodded and smiled as thunder rolled above them. “I…do.”

“Good,” Castiel softly folded the other man’s right hand between his and pressed a soft kiss onto Dean’s fingers. “I’m here for you.”

“But don’t you have to go to work?” Those emerald eyes searched blue ones. “I can’t make you miss work.”

“It’s Saturday, remember?”

Dean frowned. “Oh, right. I thought it’s Friday. Most days seem the same to me. Well except for Sunday last when we…”

He couldn’t help it. Castiel felt his neck growing warmer from a blush and he smiled.

So, the Prince was thinking about that moment as a glorified one, that was memorable and beautiful and not one that he regretted.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice was softer.

Swallowing and gazing intently, Dean nodded slowly. “You never have to ask, Cas. I like the element of surprise. So, go ahead and take my breath away.”

Leaning in to the soft scent of lavender and spearmint toothpaste, Castiel suddenly grew slightly dizzy from being driven to a state of raptures. The inches eaten up between them contained those beautiful green eyes magnified and Dean’s eyelashes fluttering. Then tilting his head, Castiel allowed their lips to barely brush in the most delicate way and instantly, Dean let out a small gasp because in all its entirety, he must have felt the same way Castiel did; the swelling of his heart and the excited and warm feeling of tasting each other again.

When Castiel took Dean behind the neck and drew him in closer, the other man welcomed the deepened kiss with everything he could offer and it was like coming home again.

Dean melted immediately into Castiel’s touch and softly moaned from the two of them finally coming together again, a sound that was unearthed from deep inside him like his heart sighing, and releasing all the pain and fatigue and worry. And Castiel tasted like heaven; like all the beautiful things that were taken for granted and never loved.

When Dean leaned into him even more, Castiel wrapped his other arm around the Prince’s upper back and kissed him like he didn’t want to ever breath again. He clung to Dean as if he was the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His insistent mouth constantly parted Castiel’s shaking lips, sending wild tremors along his nerves. Dean’s warmth excited his pores and enlightened his mind into an explosive state.

By the time Castiel realized that he was falling onto the softness of the chair, Dean’s body followed on top of him. And it was the warmest feeling of all between the twisted blanket, the most blissful when Castiel played his fingertips on Dean’s temples, capturing the most handsome face between his palms.

“I love you,” Castiel said softly, caressing Dean’s light stubble. “Looking into your eyes gives me the best feeling in the world.”

“I love the oceans in yours.”

The two of them couldn’t stop tasting each other’s lips over and over again and Castiel couldn’t stop his body opening up under Dean’s warmth and comfort.

But he didn’t want to stop. He kept reaching for something beautiful inside of the other man, and when his lips and tongue and soul latched onto that wealth of love, Castiel held onto it. And he reminded Dean that he was worthy and beautiful and amazing and loved.

It was remarkable how their bodies fitted together perfectly, how their legs wrapped together and Dean’s dark grey coat covered them inside an additional warmth that was desired from the bitter cold weather. Dean sheltered him like no one had ever done during those intimate moments. And just when Castiel thought that they both deepened their kiss enough, Dean trailed soft ones from his jawline all the way down to his flushed neck.

Castiel writhed under him, moaning from the other man’s expertise with his tongue. The way Dean played his lips upon his skin like he was trying out a delicious flavor of ice cream and he couldn’t get enough and wanted so much more.

Castiel gave him the opportunity by taking Dean’s hand and guiding it between them to that part of him that had been longing forever for the other man’s touch. And when Dean finally found that part of him hard and aching for release, Castiel arched his back and those blue eyes took on a listless look.

The feel of another man’s fingers so intimately capturing him inside his pants was an experience he could never fulfill in dreams. The magnified sense of contact, of exactitude in knowing what needed to be done and how to do it; Dean was more than capable of driving him over the edge in quick succession.

Castiel could feel the other man’s hand doing things to him that no one ever did before, and he didn’t need a length of time to let go. Instead, as Dean jerked him off whilst deepening a soulful kiss, Castiel came hard between those skillful fingers.

He wrapped his hands around Dean and drove pathways through the other man’s hair with his fingertips on fire. And through it all, Castiel’s moans were felt through the depth of their kiss. His entire body gave up everything, all the love and pain from being deprived of for so many years.

As the lightening flashed and the thunder rolled and the heavy rains rushed down the drains and pipes, Dean made Castiel come over and over again.

He gave him as much as he could in that moment, and sucked the soft tender skin between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, knowing that he was guiltily marking his territory and desiring nothing but to leave marks. And Castiel allowed it because Dean’s soft bites were toe curling and mind-blowing.

He knew all the places to taste and all the rhythms to use whilst jerking him off that Castiel lost himself inside the scent of Irish Spring and coffee and tea. Just when he literally felt like his entire body was about to explode again, Dean bit on Castiel’s bottom lip.

In that moment, Castiel seized the opportunity to grab Dean’s ass and arch his hips upwards so that their bodies grinded together deliciously through their clothes. He wanted more, so much more and tried so hard to obtain that kind of climax. Then their eyes met in a deepened gaze before a loud moan escaped from the Prince’s parted lips and whilst Castiel held onto him, Dean came hard inside his pants, both their hips grinding together.

The music between them contained in the sounds they unearthed from each other was a tune that Castiel would never forget. He kept looking into those widened green eyes when Dean shuddered from every single release. Castiel was mesmerized by the depth of the other man’s orgasms, by realizing that he caused Dean to reach that point and the experience was nothing short of overwhelming for him.

“Cas,” Dean buried his fingers into the other man’s hair and pressed their cheeks together. Then entwined inside an embrace that was comforting, he savored the feel of Castiel’s arms wrapped around him and stayed there.

By the time they were both capable of detaching themselves from each other, the rain died down outside. Then Dean weakly rolled over, plopped onto the chair and Castiel pressed a soft kiss onto his parted lips before heading towards the washroom not too far away.

“I’ve never ever reached that kind of release,” Dean admitted whilst they were helping themselves to the scrambled eggs and toast about half an hour later.

Castiel smiled and stole a slice of tomato from the other man’s plate. “Neither have I. My head is still spinning.”

“I feel like I’m floating,” Dean chuckled when their eyes met. “You realize that you made me come without even getting your hand inside of my pants?”

“I do, and I like how we can have a conversation about sex whilst comfortably eating breakfast. It’s very domestic.”

“If it grosses you out then we can talk about anything else…”

Castiel shook his head and savored the taste of the eggs seasoned with black pepper and onions and pepper. “Believe me, it doesn’t. Having a friend like Ruby tends to make conversations about sex more bearable after a while. It’s all she talks about. The amount of terms I’ve heard her use about a man’s anatomy. It is quite diverse.”

“She’s very colorful. It’s one of the things Sam loved about her,” Dean smiled from the memories.

Castiel however was surprised. “Really? Sam?” The bearer of mischievous eyes and an abundance of humor was exactly the kind to possess a wild side.

“Yeah, he likes that. Shy on the streets, freak in the sheets. That’s my brother.”

“And you?” he couldn’t help but be immensely intrigued. “What are you like in bed?” Castiel held his breath, knowing that the answer would alter his dreams severely.

Dean on the other hand, reached for some more toast and blushed even deeper. “Would you like to find out?”

“Of course, I do,” Castiel leaned in and pressed a soft kiss onto the other man’s left cheek. His scent was warm with sandalwood and lavender from his aftershave. “In time. Hopefully sooner than later. Why are you blushing?”

“Because…” Dean’s voice was suddenly hoarser as he tried to smile, “I want to know the same thing since I met you. Are you more of a slow, deep and passionate lover? Or are you kinky and rough and playful?”

“I asked you first,” Castiel chuckled. He rested his plate on the tray and reached for a tissue.

Dean took his time answering though, clearing their plates away and then pouring two cups of tea. By the time he lowered himself next to Castiel, the weather darkened beyond the windows again and the air was chilly. But it couldn’t break the warmth between them as they sat facing each other with loving eyes.

“I love foreplay, like a lot of it,” Dean said finally, with a shy smile and shrug. “I also like to leave marks; well you can tell by how much of a biter I am. And I’m very good with my hands. And my…mouth.”

Castiel swallowed hard and nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“Well, there’s not much I can tell you without showing you,” Dean laughed. He lightly caressed the other man’s jawline. “But since we’re taking things slow whilst I try to give us a chance to get to know each other first, I’ll let out a few hints.”

“Oh, by all means go on and torture me by reminding me that courting is slow and painful.” Castiel smiled. “Very Jane Austen-like, by the way. Now give me those hints and don’t be stingy on elaborating.”

“It’s more like I’m…slow and I’ll take my time with you,” Dean’s gaze deepened. “You know, trying to get to know where to touch you that drives you completely crazy. Then when I find out, I keep using it to my advantage.”

“Just like how you keep kissing right here?” Castiel pointed to where his neck met his shoulder. “Or behind my neck?”

“Yeah, exactly. And Cas,” Dean’s voice grew huskier as his green eyes darkened.

“Mmm?” allowing his fingers to be played with by the other man, Castiel searched the intense gaze between them.

“I promise that when that time comes…when we finally get to go all the way, I’ll make up for all the bad experiences you’ve had. I’ll show you how amazing it is when a man makes love to you. And you’ll never ever leave me because you’ll always want more.”

Castiel stared back, and couldn’t breathe. “Christ. You keep that up and I’ll tear your damn clothes off, I swear, Dean.”

The other man collapsed on the chair in a fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Castiel scolded, poking Dean’s thighs through his hot dog pajamas and feeling nothing but muscle. “You’re quite aware of how I’m tormented by you. Every single inch of you that I haven’t seen as yet. I want to see what’s underneath your damn clothes.”

Curling up into a ball, Dean laughed until tears leaked from his eyes. Then after his fit of giggles eased down, he sat up and embraced the other man in a soft hug, burying his face into the crook of Castiel’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, smiling into the warmth of Castiel’s skin. “For coming here and being with me when I was literally drowning inside my mind.”

The honesty was simple and treasuring.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Castiel lightly touched Dean’s soft hair. He ran his fingers through soft strands and savored the other man curling into his arms. “I’ll do it as much as I can. Do you feel any better?”

Sighing into Castiel’s neck, Dean never wanted to let go. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas,” he said softly, avoiding the question. “Just keep…holding me until I ask you to let me go, okay?”

Realizing that there wasn’t a definite answer provided to justify if Dean was feeling better, Castiel savored the small things still. Like those little smiles and the fit of laughter. Their first time letting go of a lot of tension. The way Dean came without his touch. Getting him to open up a little more. And Castiel held those small things inside his heart as tenderly as he held Dean.

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss onto the other man’s head.

Loving Dean was like holding the most colorfully painted box made of any material that was quite tough to penetrate; but all that was inside him, was so soft and fluffy and adorable and warm.

Castiel spent the entire morning in his company whilst perusing the grandest library he ever cast his eyes on.

There were first editions of most classics like Bronte, Dickens and Mark Twain. The Invisible Man, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Frankenstein, Middlemarch, Great Expectations, The Hobbit. Then there was a wide selection of horror from Stephen King and Dean Koontz just in the darkest corner that contained one of many comfy sofas with two pillows.

But the most pleasing corner that captured Castiel’s attention was Dean’s ‘Jane Austen’ bookcase; climbing to eight shelves and stocked. He didn’t spare the first editions of her books, and over the years, the Prince collected every single novel that was Austen related.

He also possessed a wealth of Philippa Gregory and so many more interesting reads, Castiel was immensely contained in raptures that he wouldn’t have known where to start after Dean pleaded with him to borrow as many titles as he wished.

“When you move in with me,” the Prince pressed their shoulders together whilst they stood together observing the grounds darkening by the threatening rain, “you’ll have all of this. Dammit,” he chuckled lightly all of a sudden.

Castiel turned to smile into Dean’s warm cheek. “What’s so funny?”

“Beauty and the Beast. I feel like I have so much in common with the beast because being bipolar makes me feel like I’m not worth it and I’m ugly. Then I have this huge library and I live inside a huge castle all alone like he does. And you basically came to me from another realm and I wanted to trap you by forcing you to stay.”

Castiel was amused but intrigued by the analogy. “You’re anything but unworthy and ugly. And you’re right. Maybe I am a lot like Belle because I see past the barriers and then there’s only you; raw and beautiful and special. There’s so much to love about you, I’m surprised no one else ever managed to claim you before I came along.”

“They tried,” Dean snaked an arm around the other man and walked them out of the library. “But they never really wanted to stick around because they always thought I was too much to take care of.”

“That is selfish and they don’t deserve you.”

They rounded a corner and ended up at the beginning of a long passageway made of stone with wide windows on the right overlooking the garden that was vibrantly colorful after the rains.

“Cas, I didn’t lie to you on Sunday,” Dean said softly as he leaned onto the ledge of the window and the sky streaked with lightening. “About going to Spain. I was supposed to briefly follow my mom to Scotland, spending half a day to get her settled in. Then I was going to go to Madrid to meet with the Ministry of Trade and I…” elbows resting on the ledge, he ran his hands over his face and kept them there. “I couldn’t do it, Cas. I felt like I was going to suffocate and die.”

“Does that usually happen?” Castiel needed to understand him and wanted to, more than anything else.

Thunder rolled heavy above them and the entire castle felt gloomier. “I’d be lying if I told you that the medication makes me normal. Because they don’t and Rowena has known that for years, that no matter how much I take or what course I’m on, there are still cracks that will never close up.”

“I can understand that—”

“Cas, you can’t,” Dean said in a frustrated tone, turning to provide a weakened disposition. “I’m never going to be easy to love and that’s why I don’t have many friends and none of my lovers ever stayed; men, women—”

“Dean,” Castiel held up his hand and provided a calm countenance, “you should have let me finish. What I was about to say, is that I can understand that you’re complicated. But above all, you’ve proven to me that you are a fighter and if there is something you want, you go after it with everything you have. And you apply that same vigor whilst fighting your mind. It’s not going to be easy to love you, I know. But the best kind of love isn’t ever easy. Isn’t that what Jane Austen taught us?”

There were tears in those green eyes. “She never ever dealt with mental disorders, Cas. Darcy and Lizzie’s struggles were pride and prejudice. Knightley’s struggle was living with his feelings for Emma for years whilst watching her match everyone else but the two of them. Anne wanted a man she thought had stopped loving her. All of those struggles were pains that were solvable at the end of the books.”

“You must never think that the war inside your mind is a tragedy you have to fight alone.”

“I can’t do this to you,” Dean shook his head. “I can’t keep you trapped.”

“So, if I’m understanding you correctly,” Castiel never diverted his intense gaze, “you’re really trying to tell me that you don’t want me permanently?”

“I do,” Dean’s face contorted from a severity of emotions. “I just don’t want you to stay with a beast like me.”

“That’s not a fair judgment of your character.” Although his voice remained level, Castiel was hurting inside from the other man’s low beliefs in his worth.

“This is not a soppy romance story, Cas.”

“Dean, don’t push me away,” Castiel suddenly said in a hoarse tone that gave away his weakened composure. “Don’t you dare try to convince me that I’d be better off without you.”

“Maybe you would be, Cas—”

“Then you really don’t understand the magnitude of my love for you. I’ve told you before, I would do…anything for you. Just to be with you. I’ve proven that by giving up everything I built in New York to come back to you because there is nothing else in this world that makes me happy than being here. You might not be able to imagine to what extent I would go, but you will never ever convince me enough to leave you.”

“Cas,” Dean closed the distance and captured the other man’s face between his palms. A tear leaked down his cheek. “I don’t want you to get tired of me being a roller coaster ride.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” Castiel said simply, wounding his arms around Dean’s waist and maintaining their gaze. “The more you push me away, the more I will stay with you. I want to know everything about you. Your ups and downs. I want you to show me those cracks and let me hold you when you feel worthless. Do you love me, Dean?”

When he asked the question, Castiel was fearful of the answer. In that moment, the words they exchanged were completely persuasive of a one-sided belief in their affections and the worth of their love.

But when Dean pulled him in and pressed their lips together, Castiel sighed deeply and gave in.

He thought that the entire world could fall down on them and still he would fight with his last dying breath to have Dean hold and kiss him because he never believed that the kind of love he sought out would ever be easy. Instead he would be covered in so much intensity that was reflective of the books he tried to read to find that depth of love. And all of it, he found in a man who looked at him like he meant the world.

“I love you,” Dean said against his lips in the softest whisper whilst tears stuck to those eyelashes that were beautiful. “And thank you, Cas,” he rested their foreheads together and his lips quivered. “I want you to stay…I really do. I’m not going to push you away and if I try…please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Castiel rubbed their noses together affectionately and he savored the warmth of Dean’s breath through his parted lips.

Chapter Text

“A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

While it was evidently the most satisfying feeling of all to be in love, and to desperately need each other constantly, there were other important matters at heart.

Eileen, after entering her last month of pregnancy, was subject to an abundance of rest in the most suitable place of quietness and bliss. Therefore, on accompanying his wife to their home in Hampshire, Sam invited Dean and Castiel along. And although Dean’s depressive state still persisted, there was an honesty in declaring that Castiel was holding him upright along every step of the way.

Dartmouth Castle was finely constructed in the 1800s by one of their uncles from Mary’s lineage who had been swimming around in the luxuries of living as a hermit. Finely built from stone and spread across a rolling grassland that stretched as far as the eyes could see; their home offered nothing but tranquility, wide windows and a wealth of books ranging from lore to fiction.

But Sam had remodeled the interior to resemble a much more modern lifestyle. Flat screen televisions, a lounge room with lazy boy chairs, an inside pool, a large kitchen made of marble and finely polished black equipment. It was one of the few luxuries Eileen reveled in whilst inhabiting the castle because she had grown fond of cooking. And even though she was ordered to bed, Eileen prepared a warm lunch for all three men consisting of minced pies, baked beans and honey glazed potato scoops.

“One of the many things I love about my wife,” Sam handed over the dish of beans to Dean, his hazel eyes dancing with humor. “And there are so many, I can fill an acre of parchment with those.”

Eileen signed from next to Castiel and Dean laughed.

“Oh, yeah,” those green eyes twinkled, “tell me about it.” Then he remembered that Castiel wouldn’t grasp the conversation. “Oh, uh, basically she’s saying that Sam has a tendency to overexaggerate and –”

“I can understand, Dean,” Castiel’s smile affected his entire face from the other man’s concern. When Sam and his brother gaped in response, he shook his head and chuckled. “Hanna, my ex-wife, suffered from a severe throat infection in her younger years. Therefore, all of her voice was lost, so naturally, signing was most efficient.”

Dean’s countenance registered nothing but open disappointment that he had never been privy to once again, another one of Castiel’s abilities; firstly, he discovered the other man’s expertise in playing the piano and now his perfection in signing. Perhaps there was so much more he was yet to learn. And he was hoping that the wealth of surprises would be as satisfying as the ones revealed prior.

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudged his brother’s shoulder and laughed. “You two still have plenty of time to learn about each other. What he likes, what he doesn’t like.” Eileen’s hands fluttered as her cheeks flushed. “Right!” Sam gestured at his wife with remarkable amusement. “Also, what you both like in bed!”

“Can we not…” Dean swallowed down his mouthful of potato and stared at Castiel who was delivering a gaze that resurrected their first intimate experience. “I’m trying to eat here.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam absolutely adored teasing his brother. “Cas, did you also know that Dean has these dress up girl games on his phone? He plays them all the time.”

“Shut your face,” the older Winchester warned.

“Combing the doll’s hair, putting on a bit of blush and lipstick and most of all!” Sam batted away his brother’s hands whilst grinning at Castiel, “he dresses them in matching outfits and shoes. Goddamn it! Don’t touch my hair!” Sam ducked away and held up his hands as if forming a shield over his luscious locks.

Are they always like this? Castiel signed at Eileen who seemed unfazed by the banter.

She offered him a smile. All the time. You’ll get used to it. They even wrestle each other like big babies.

How are you feeling, really? He smiled back, collected the glass of water and sipped whilst the banter continued across the table.

Eileen sighed and shrugged. The kicking has eased down. Most of all I feel really tired and exhausted but I want to do so many things. I hate lying in bed. How are you?”

Castiel adored signing with her because it was like returning to a part of his past that didn’t ache as much to remember. I’m elated by being here. Your home is lovely and fairytale-like.

“You two!” Dean’s voice interrupted them and both pairs of eyes turned to him, widening from the intrusion. “Back me up, here, will you, Cas? Sam’s saying that I’m not a good kisser. Tell him that he’s wrong.”

Castiel welcomed the pleading green orbs and sighed. The table fell silent, awaiting his verdict. “In all honesty, based on my limited experience, I have no choice but to disagree but I will admit that there is something about your kiss that always blows my mind.”

Instead of delivering a whoop of triumphant satisfaction, Dean’s humor slipped from his countenance and was replaced with a look of complete adoration. Eileen and Sam sent each other a warming smile from across the table and both of them resumed eating, leaving the other couple to deliver as much love as they could manage through the meeting of their eyes.

After leaving his brother and his wife in privacy upstairs, Dean sought out Castiel and wrapping the other man into an embrace that justified his desire for some alone time, the Prince led them both downstairs. From there, the two of them ventured outside into the weather that wasn’t bothersome hot but slightly overcast and windy. Then whilst the breeze howled through the castle and licked heavy blinds, Dean surprised Castiel by inviting him to go horseback riding.

At first, he was hesitant because in truth, Castiel never partook in the activity before. The idea of horseback riding had always been fueled from reading immensely and imagining the fleeting rapturous feeling of soaring across a pasture. But to actually get on a horse and add substance to his dreams? He stared at Dean and grew entirely nervous.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

Dean’s face was always consumed with the liveliness and youthful light spirit of a boy. “Well, I have. And I’m not asking you to do it all by yourself.” He led the beautiful chestnut horse closer, nuzzling her nose. “I want you to ride with me.”

Possibly, it was one of the most romantic gestures Castiel was ever on the receiving end of; to be invited by someone he loved to partake in galloping through the breathtaking scenic grasslands on the back of a horse together. Especially when he realized that the story itself contained so much resemblance to an old-fashioned love story of being asked by a Prince, the two of them standing no less that ten feet away from a castle.

It was like being dipped into the essence of the ideal fairytale with nothing more to experience than the most blissful events of love.

But then there was the exactitude of the depth of that connection between them. And the more Castiel gazed up at the horse and recognized the intimate proximity the seat would place them in, he felt faint. His heart fluttered like butterfly’s wings from knowing that if he ever happened to place himself in a position behind Dean on a horse, then there was no way to conceal his body’s reaction from the other man’s nearness.

So thus, Dean proudly demonstrated whilst the stable help stood nearby, how to easily mount the horse from the mounting block positioned on the left side. Then when he was safely tucked into the seat, Justin, a man who possessed a tanned body sculpted from rigorous exercise guided Castiel’s left boot into the stirrup and helped him on the animal who whinnied excitedly.

“She’s just glad to be getting out there again,” Dean’s breath caught in his throat when Castiel fitted snugly behind him. Then releasing his grip on the reins, he reached back and felt between them for the other man’s hands.

“Dean,” Castiel’s wrapped the Prince into an embrace without further guidance. “I’m scared,” he buried his face into the other man’s left shoulder and Dean’s comforting scent of sandalwood and lavender dizzied his mind.

“Don’t be, love. Just hold on to me like you never want to let me go. Ever,” Dean eased Nessie into a slow trot and he could feel Castiel’s heart hammering away. “That should be easy for you to do, right?”

“Of course,” wrapping his arms tighter around the Prince, Castiel gave in to the warmth and the contours of Dean’s body. And gradually, he was overwhelmed with a sense of security and comfort from knowing that when they were together, nothing else mattered but their love for each other.

But the experience was, in fact, the most thrilling one Castiel had ever chased in his entire life. The sensation derived from almost flying was beautiful as he leaned into Dean’s back and admired the grasslands roll by like a film on fast forward. Even the sky although grey was sparkling from the sunlight that peeped through the clouds.

Dean’s laughter mirrored a bubbling stream whilst they kept on galloping across the castle grounds. His entire body was like a live wire, so consumed with positive energy like electricity and all of it stemmed from being able to take control of something and knowing that he was directing his life the way he desired without falling prey to a whispering mind.

When Nessie was urged into a slow trot once more, Dean’s chest heaved from riding out the moment on a wave of adrenaline he had been aching to drown in. The moments when he could simply tap into that rush of power and hold onto those experiences coupled with the racing of Castiel’s heart against his back and the flush of warm breath caressing his neck and the feel of Castiel’s body and his thighs squeezing into his.

Dean was on fire by the time the horse slowed to a pace beside a stream tumbling over rocks and surrounded by an abundance of trees. He could feel how intimately they fitted together perfectly and the depth of that thirst inside of him to discover more.

There was nothing he wanted more than to take things slow but from the friction of their bodies rubbing together with Castiel’s cock like a blaring reminder of what he absolutely desired; Dean couldn’t breathe. He guiltily imagined so many times what Castiel would feel like inside of him.

In that moment, he wanted the two of them to tumble off the horse and into each other’s arms. Naked, most likely, beside the stream and wrapped together, exploring Castiel’s lips and every single inch of his body.

Dean wanted to taste all of him inside of his mouth, and he was growing frustrated from surviving on how Castiel felt between his fingers when they moved on the chair a week ago. When all it took was for Castiel come, the light inside those blue eyes becoming so mellow, and then Dean was following suit so easily.

Getting off the horse was painful for both of them because of the tightness in the front of their jeans. Then with bashful eyes that showed nothing but honest acknowledgement on how aroused they both were, the two of them wandered towards a tree by the stream’s edge. From there, whilst Dean leant onto the thick trunk that was slightly dampened from the rains, Castiel carefully fixed the heavy blanket onto the dry grass and he lowered himself onto it.

“Do you dream about us?” Dean asked in a husky voice that was evidently affected from screaming his lungs out during their ride. Those green eyes couldn’t quite latch themselves on to blue ones because he was certain that all of his thoughts would become reality.

“Every time I’m not with you,” Castiel replied, searching the tumble of waves over smooth rocks. On the opposite bank, he spied a farmhouse in the far distance surrounded by an unpainted picket fence and an abundance of cows. “Why do you ask?”

“I just never stop thinking of you. Things that would make you blush.”

“Do elaborate,” Castiel’s chest felt warmer. “Sit with me.”

“I can’t,” Dean’s tone was faint as the wind chased leaves through the surrounding trees around them.

“Why?”

Prying a bit of bark from the tree, the Prince squeezed it between his fingers over and over again, his gaze resting on nothing in the distance. “Just give me a moment.”

Castiel leaned his back onto the trunk and gazed up at the other man.

The grass danced along from nature’s song, a soothing sound that was severely calming. Then even though he tried to spy the castle from the route they had taken, Castiel couldn’t pinpoint even the roof. And he wondered how far they travelled and how wide was Sam’s estate.

But no matter how long he waited for those green eyes to seek out his gaze, Castiel was faced with the Prince leaning against the tree with nothing but a faraway look on his handsome face. And he seemed to be entranced by a moment that was either imagined of what could be or recollected from prior.

However, the silence between them was growing rather uncomfortable all of a sudden and reaching up, Castiel hooked his finger into Dean’s pants’ pocket and tugged lightly.

“Do I have to beg for your attention now? Is this what being submissive feels like? Because I can beg for many other things if my pleas will be effective.”

Immediately, Castiel sparked up the meeting of their eyes whilst green ones widened from the openness of his words.

Dean’s expression was nothing short of honest amazement by the other man’s blatant attempt to unarm him of his composure.

“Good, I have your attention,” Castiel’s smile was warm and he patted the blanket next to him. “Now stop behaving like you’re the only one who should feel guilty about your thoughts and come sit with me.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what I’m thinking right now,” Dean complied hesitantly, stiffly positioning himself about two inches away from the other man.

Castiel immediately ate up the distance and pressed their shoulders together. The instant heat that originated from the Prince’s body was awakening and fueled his desire.

“Dean, I’m a man who is absolutely attracted to you in every possible way. Do you honestly think that my thoughts are anything but sexual after riding behind you on a horse?”

“I just…” Dean’s chest heaved when Castiel planted a definite hand on his left thigh. Contact. That was the first step and then it was like flipping a switch on inside of his body afterwards that could lead to a chain of events long now craved for. “I’m trying to take things slow but it’s really not that easy.”

“Then by all means, go ahead and make love to me,” Castiel boldly stated. Their eyes met and green ones delivered a look of amazement. “Dean, I’m telling you now that if we keep this up, we’re going to drive each other crazy.”

“Cas…”

“You yourself said that you haven’t had sex in five years. And for me, it’s been ten,” Castiel scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d like to be fucked by you in any way you can have me and –” he squeaked when Dean’s palm flattened over his lips.

Something passed between them that was phenomenally laced with an abundance of lust.

Their souls tried to reach each other in that moment, pulling and yanking inside of their bodies and yearning to become intimately entwined that it took every ounce of energy Dean possessed to settle his expertise. He wanted to pace himself in fear of pushing too far because there were warning bells ringing inside of his head ever since they started exploring each other.

If he pushed and he ended up hurting Castiel, then he would never be able to forgive himself because Dean understood how his mind worked. He always wanted things instead of needing them out of necessity.

Desires were not to be trifled with because riding on a high whilst pumped with desire was possibly the worst way to lose control of himself. And he learned the hard way before, in several situations when his lovers stretched his infinite itch in bed until there was nothing more than a physical bond.

But Dean realized that after all they experienced from knowing each other, he didn’t just want Castiel. He needed him. Castiel was a necessity and in his arms, Dean found the kind of balance he savored from their first meeting. And there was something about the other man that was so damn mysterious, almost as if Castiel was hiding a wealth of mysteries gathered from reading behind his gaze that unshackled him.

“Goddammit, Dean!” Snatching up the other man’s left hand, Castiel planted Dean’s cupped fingers onto the bulge in his jeans and from there, both of them lost any kind of control.

Something inside of Dean ignited, possibly from the scratch of a thousand matches and as blue eyes stared back in awe, he smoothly planted himself onto Castiel’s lap whilst maintaining his hold between the other man’s legs.

Dean could feel Castiel just under the coarse denim, hot and hard and definite in glorious inches that tormented his dreams every chance his mind allowed.

He was ashamed of his thoughts when they were near to each other; but then during those three months apart, his hands had replaced Castiel’s hands in his low episodes and then nothing could compare to the actuality of what the real touch would feel like.

Dean was certain of that much, judging from the brave energy captured inside those graceful fingers. And the sight was breathtaking to behold when Castiel kept his grip tight around Dean’s wrist, the same hand that was cupping him between his legs and the two of them eagerly searched each other’s gaze.

“What are you waiting for?” Castiel was breathless, “for the sky to…burst…and the rains to…wet us?”

Dean’s chest heaved uncontrollably. “Keep on talking to me like that, and I’ll lose my goddamn mind,” his voice was huskier as he ducked his head down, dragging his tongue along the curve of Castiel’s shoulder to taste the salt on his skin.

Back flattening further into the trunk of the tree, Castiel’s chest heaved and because his hands were desperate to do something; to become as engaging as his mind was begging to, he felt for the bottom of Dean’s shirt and drove his fingers up and across smooth sweaty skin on Dean’s back that rippled from muscle. And when the other man melted into him, their foreheads pressing together, Castiel bent up his knees to sandwich Dean closer.

His bites were filled with more passion than before though, and would evidently leave marks on his neck but Castiel liked every inch of skin Dean’s teeth and mouth claimed. He drove pathways through Dean’s hair with his fingers and felt the wind wrap them in a soothing blanket whilst the leaves in the trees rustled. And his toes curled inside of his boots whilst Dean made love to him slow and desperately.

He fitted like a comma on Castiel’s lap, with his knees digging into the blanket on either side of their embrace, going in over and over again.

Dean pivoted his hips in further and savored how Castiel’s body trembled from the friction unearthed by rubbing the front of their jeans together. Had he known that the two of them could torment each other so much just from grinding their hips together, he would have been bracing Castiel up on walls every chance that he could steal.

When Castiel finally crushed their lips together, he gasped from the depth of the other man’s desires, tumbling over them like a warm wave of bliss.

Neither of them cared enough about intruders because Sam’s estate hardly entertained any strangers and by then, the staff who tended to the gardens had gone home to their families.

So naturally, the privacy offered between trees and captured in the grasp of nature’s sounds was advantageous when the two of them kept trying to build up a rhythm that wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t and possibly never would be.

“More,” Castiel barely managed to plead for after their lips brushed without meeting fully again. His gaze implored so much desire and passion. “Dean, I need…to see you.”

After green eyes gave him permission, the Prince gazed back intently because he wanted more too. Oh, how he wished they were in the confinements of the castle where he could fully have everything he desired without holding back. And because they were restrained from ripping off each other’s clothes, Dean settled on whatever was happening between them as his mind threatened to tip over and overpour.

“Go ahead,” his voice was rusty from desire, capturing Castiel’s shoulders in his grasp. “Unless you want to wait until we get back.”

“No. I can’t ride back on a horse with you without filling in the blanks.”

“Neither can I,” Dean sensually grazed his right thumb across Castiel’s parted lips and leaned in to steal a kiss. “I’ve felt you, but I need to see you.”

Castiel hooked his finger through the loop in front of Dean’s jeans and he fumbled with the zipper. Then after tugging it down, when he stumbled upon no underwear but the bareness of Dean’s cock tucked sideways into the folds of his jeans, Castiel stared at the other man with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he croaked, staring without shame.

Dean chuckled hoarsely, peering between them to consider the element of surprise. “Do you like what you see?”

“I’m talking about you strutting around full commando style. Christ.” Castiel tugged the front of Dean’s jeans further open and couldn’t breathe. “Is this how you walk around all goddamn day?”

“Maybe?”

“Dean! Don’t you have any consideration for my nerves?” Castiel swallowed when their eyes met in a haste. “I’ll never look at you the same again after this. Possibly, you’ll have my hands aching to get inside your pants every chance I get.”

“That’s kind of the point?” Dean chuckled, his breath hitching when Castiel pressed a palm upon his stomach and pushed him away a little.

Then with trembling fingers that were absolutely eager, Castiel, for the first time in his life, released another man’s cock from the constraints of his jeans. But his dreams could have never filled in the blanks enough on the entirety of what was contained in Dean’s pants, because he was gifted in size just as Ruby remarked as well as thickness. And when Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean, he was hot and firm between his fingers.

“Shit,” the Prince folded into Castiel, squeezing his shoulders whilst their lips danced closer. “I’ve…dreamt what that would feel like…a thousand times.”

Castiel marveled over the effect his intimate hold on Dean unearthed, causing the other man to heave uncontrollably as he slid his grasp lower into the depths of Dean’s pants until the warmth was like fire.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered when their foreheads met, their noses nudging together affectionately. “Dean, when we get back, I want to see so much more.”

“You will. If you promise that I will get to see you too. Now…” taking the loop on the front of Castiel’s jeans, Dean breathed into the other man’s mouth, “can I see you instead of living on just what my hands felt before?”

“Oh, believe me,” Castiel couldn’t let go of the other man’s cock between his fingers, “I’m short on two inches maybe.”

“I don’t care. I want to fit all of you inside of me when the time comes.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice trembled from the bold statement.

Capturing the Prince’s face between his palms, he crushed their lips together and left Dean to fumble between them with his expert fingers whilst a light drizzle began that neither of them cared about.

They were sheltered under the thickness of the tree, and the horse was tucked away in the distance, chewing on grass whilst the two of them gasped from the depth of their kisses and the invasion of each other’s pants.

Very soon though, their moans filled the air as the wind rustled the leaves when Dean removed Castiel’s back from the tree and flatted him onto the blanket. Going in for a kiss so deep, encompassing their tongues searching and exploring each other’s mouths, Dean lifted Castiel’s hands above his head and entwined their fingers, all the while kissing him like he wanted to steal his breath away. Like he wanted to unarm Castiel in every possible way whilst he grazed his teeth across Castiel’s jawline and bit down on his neck once more.

Because of the rawness already developed from his prior bites, Castiel writhed under him from the reawakened ache inside of his skin. The way their hips kept grinding together as Dean planted his thighs on either side of Castiel and the two of them tugged their jeans down to allow as much as they could manage.

Dean’s mind spun dangerously when their cocks slotted together between them. And he kept grinding their hips together, lacing their fingers and pulling away from the kiss just enough to take control.

He wanted that control more than anything else in the world. But he would never allow himself to take over without consent. Not when Castiel was inexperienced and reliant on him to go easy and to be patient and slow.

Dean was appreciative of the other man’s advances but then he also understood his own thirst for pushing and taking more and more. And in the moment, whilst he drowned in those blue eyes like widened pools of beautiful and limitless skies, Dean thought to himself that he would never ever let Castiel go.

His mouth kept searching for the other man’s weak spots and lingering there, like the soft skin below Castiel’s ear. When he licked right there, Castiel writhed under him and moaned sinfully, just as he did too when Dean rubbed the tip of his cock with an eager thumb. And in those small spaces of time when they both opened up, Dean still didn’t want to let Castiel go.

Not even when he came harder than before, his hoarse cries containing Castiel’s name over and over again did he stop giving him all he could in that moment. Not even when Castiel grabbed his ass and grinded their hips harder together did he ever believe that he could breathe and survive without him. Because loving Castiel was limitless in all its glory and the power contained in their attraction towards each other.

Tasting Castiel was like sipping from a fresh fountain of water and knowing truthfully that if he couldn’t have him completely, then he would crumble and die. And because Dean was starved from going all the way with the man he loved, he compensated by grinding them up to a crescendo and supplying just enough bites in the places that mattered.

“Dean!” Castiel writhed under him and kept coming over and over again. “Look…at…” he tried to capture the other man’s face between his trembling fingers, “look at me. I want to see you.”

“I’m here,” Dean panted into those perfect parted lips. “I’m right here.”

Then just when he thought that he was entirely spent, Dean’s orgasms rippled through him with such force like never before, that he tumbled forward and buried his face into Castiel’s neck whilst their bodies emptied all of the pent-up passion from sitting too close, or gazing too intently.

Or never getting to touch each other every second of every day, or driving all the way to Hampshire, aching to kiss, but holding back because of the two other passengers in the backseat.

Now though, Dean had Castiel all to himself and he didn’t want to let him go. Not when they were so intimately involved with each other, whilst their souls kissed instead of just the meeting of lips and tongue. Because when Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, drawing him in, there was just bliss and no manic episodes or extreme lows. He leveled Dean in ways that no one ever could, like an equalizer that Dean had been searching for so long to contain his mind.

“I love you,” he whispered on Castiel’s parted lips when leaves fell around them like soft petals in nature’s love for her creations. Dean nuzzled their cheeks together and the other man moaned under him.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Castiel’s gravelly voice was filled with so much love.

Dean smiled into the other man’s cheek. “Call me that again. I like it.”

“When you make love to me, you erase all the pain that I’ve ever experienced in my life, sweetheart,” Castiel tried as a small smile played on his lips. “All of it, stemming from my childhood to those three months spent away from you.”

“That’s what I want to do,” Dean rubbed their lips together and tilted Castiel’s head upwards. He pressed soft kisses all the way from Castiel’s chin to his soft skin exposed between the unbuttoned shirt that smelled faintly of honey and vanilla. “I want to keep showing you how we’re meant for each other in every possible way.”

“Believe me, I don’t need convincing on that,” Castiel hummed when Dean tugged down his shirt and started sucking on his left shoulder. “I think that in all honesty, so far you’ve proven to me that being loved by a man like you, is by far the most amazing experience ever. I will never be the same again. Especially after you keep sucking on me like I’m a damn lollipop.”

Dean’s laughter into the crook of Castiel’s shoulder was musical. “I’m sorry but that’s the way I am. I like tasting you and marking you because when I look at you, I want to be reminded that this wasn’t a dream inside my head. And that I have you and I can keep having you just as you’ll keep having me.”

“Yeah but with the rate you’re going, my neck will be flaring red by the time we get back. And I can just imagine the lengths Sam will take on teasing the hell out of me. Are you sure you’re not partially a vampire?”

Dean rolled off of Castiel and tugged up his jeans that were soaked on the inside but he couldn’t care less. “Maybe I am.”

On prior occasions with other lovers, he detested the aftermath of sex with another man, becoming uncomfortably prickly about what remained behind. But with Castiel, none of it mattered, and was just comforting enough to recognize that after the struggles from being separated, they survived and were together again.

Although they promised to peel away their clothes and expose every single contour after returning from the horseback ride that afternoon, what greeted them instead was Eileen slipping into labor.

Sam, of course, was busy wringing his hands outside the door although the midwife assured him that everything would be okay. And after failed attempts at trying to draw his brother downstairs with him and Castiel to at least relax, Sam decided to drag a mattress outside Eileen’s bed chambers and from there, he rested until she needed him.

For the remaining two days, whilst Castiel spent a considerable amount of time reviewing articles that filled his inbox for approval before posting, the two of them only managed a few hours together in each other’s company.

It was painful enough to gaze at Dean’s downcast disposition whilst Castiel perused paragraphs about topics that suddenly weren’t even appealing. But what was even more disdaining was Dean’s struggle to let go of whiskey consumption after Rowena barred him from his best choice of poison.

“She keeps saying that alcohol doesn’t mix well with my pills. And fine,” Dean sulked across the table whilst Castiel read an article on Red Light Districts in Europe. “I get that. But after all these years, I’ve taken to my whiskey like an escape I crave for when my mind just wouldn’t shut up.”

Castiel eyed Dean over the laptop and frowned. “Perhaps you can replace your craving for whiskey with me,” he suggested.

The effect of his words was immediate as a deep blush crept across Dean’s neck. “Cas, that’s…wow.”

“What?” blue eyes widened. “Too forward? Drink me like you drink your whiskey, Dean Winchester. I don’t mind at all.”

“Don’t make me get under the table and drink you right now.” Dean’s gaze was intense. “I take long and hard pulls from my bottles.”

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” Castiel smiled with as much wicked intent, teasing for the other man to comply with his wishes. “Especially in that accent of yours.” They remained silent for a while and then the earlier sentence dawned upon him. “What do you mean when you say that your mind wouldn’t shut up?”

Dean’s gnarled fingers hovered over his head and he groaned. “Static. Trying to get in and I’m using you as a shield to keep all of it out. Works like a charm most times coupled with the meds. But then it starts to get wild.”

Castiel frowned and slipped off his glasses. “Dean,” his tone grew softer, “forgive me for prying so suddenly but I’ve been perusing as much content as I can about what it’s like being bipolar. I’m certain that it’s only expected of me to learn as much as I can. But I’d like to hear you talk about it to me.” His blue eyes pleaded. “Can you do that?”

Dean’s countenance softened and he slowly nodded. “Dammit, Cas, when you do that, you make me fall in love with you all over again.”

The other man sighed. “When I do what exactly?”

“You know, show that you care about me on a deeper level apart from the intimacy and hugs and kisses. And don’t tell me that any kind human being would do that because I’ve been with people who were kind but they never gave a fuck about what it’s really like. They might have cared a little but not enough.”

They gazed at each other for a full minute and after pushing aside the laptop, Castiel reached for Dean’s hands. When their fingers entwined, the depth of their gaze muted the world around them.

“Talk to me about it, sweetheart,” Castiel pleaded in an uneven tone. “What does a high feel like? Does it feel like reaching the precipice on a roller coaster?”

Dean nodded slowly and bit his lips, then he shrugged. “More like hanging on the precipice for four weeks straight and waking up to feel like it’s just one bad day. I think that the worst part is that I wake up one morning…” he scratched the back of his neck, “and I’m suddenly pumped. I’m on top of the world, like a King armed with smiles and plenty of adrenaline to push me through. For instance, I can get so fucked up that I’m driving my car and my foot hits the pedal and it’s like the race of thoughts in my mind wants to match the speed. It gets pretty wild, Cas.”

“And do you do things like that when you’re on your medication or off of it?”

“Off of it. I’m telling you how I feel raw and unarmed.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes burning but he kept fighting the tears. “Okay, and when you’re on medication, how does it help with those feelings, sweetheart?” his voice cracked.

Dean inhaled deeply, intently studying Castiel breaking down and he swallowed hard. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“I want you to tell me. Please. I want to know.”

“But it’s making you soft and sad. I don’t want to make you cry, Cas. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“Dean,” Castiel shook his head and the tears leaked out anyway because as much as he wanted to fight them, there was no way someone who loved Dean could hold a straight face whilst learning about his nightmares. “What does the medication do?”

“It makes me numb.”

“Numb like…cold? Without feeling?”

“Numb like no mania and no depression, just as you would feel or maybe someone normal would feel…I guess this is what normal feels like. I’ve never felt like this for a long time so I keep forgetting what it’s like. But there are people who can survive with bipolar without using meds because they fall into a predictable pace like okay, two weeks they know they’ll be depressed and two weeks they will ride that roller coaster to the top. But for me, I’m unpredictable.”

“Meaning?” Castiel was holding his breath and he squeezed Dean’s hand inside of his.

“Two weeks, three weeks, four weeks. I can have manic episodes and be okay for a month or more and then fall down on my ass. Which is why Rowena keeps seeing me every week because my medication changes. Lithium mostly works when I’m in a manic episode. It’s an antimanic pill; the pink ugly looking ones that I walk with all the time just in case the shit creeps up on me.”

“I remember them.”

“Well, those also chase away the suicide thoughts. But don’t worry, I don’t get those now. I think the last time I felt like that was just before I met you actually. Like I was telling Rowena in one of our sessions, I could be out partying with Sam and our buddies and I’m sitting there watching everyone have a good time. And then all I’m thinking is that they’re happy, and I’m not. Like, why did they get to laugh and feel good about life and I couldn’t? Dammit, I can’t believe how I was so jealous of people who found love and stuck with it whilst I had no one to love me. All I kept thinking was hey, if I could jump in my car and run a red light, it would all be over.”

Castiel’s face contorted from the agony of listening to Dean’s honesty.

“Now I have something to live for.”

“Thank God for that,” Castiel’s voice trembled. He smiled weakly and lifted the other man’s cupped fingers to his lips then pressed a soft kiss onto Dean’s knuckles. “And what about the depression? When you disappeared from me and I found you in your bed so cold and closed off from the world. Does that happen as often as your manic episodes?”

Dean sighed. “Honestly, I can’t take meds for my depression because it brings on a manic episode so it’s a choice. And because I do more damage when I’m going through that phase, Rowena decided a long time ago that I should be treated mostly for those.”

“What are you like when you’re going through one of those though?”

“I hope you never see me in one but chances are that you will. The less scary signs are mostly like I talk a lot and I get completely breathless. Or I can spend a lot of money, you know, make rash decisions. Or I hit the gas or I can’t sit still. Laughing like I’m crazy when the joke isn’t that funny,” Dean chuckled and shrugged. “Or trying to do a million things at once and never finishing any. But what separates me experiencing those from any other person is that my behavior gets out of control and it lasts for more than normal.”

“And the…scary signs?” Castiel tried to absorb all the information and realized that none of what he read online prepared him for the truth from Dean’s own experiences.

“You know, you’re making me feel so comfortable telling you all of this,” Dean laughed. “And although I pay Rowena to listen to me talk about all these things, I hate those sessions.”

“Maybe it’s because you love me more intimately than her?” Castiel tried a smile. “Maybe it’s because we’ve gotten into each other’s pants?”

“I guess so. Huh.”

“Focus!” Castiel slapped the table and laughed when green eyes took on a dazed look. “Stop thinking about having sex with me. And tell me about the scary signs.”

“Okay, fine!” Dean chuckled in return and shook his head. “You know, I’ll never stop thinking about making love to you, Cas.”

“Deannnn.”

“Scary signs. Right. Uh, I think I mentioned before to you that I broke down some walls and tossed a hammer out a window. And that was before I rumbled around the ring with Sam and blackened his eye.”

Castiel nodded. “This happened when we were separated, right?”

“Yup. Before that, I wrecked John’s office at Westfordshire; burned a shitload of documents and ripped up a couple of paintings on his walls worth like over four hundred million U.S dollars. That was when I was off of meds,” he frowned. “And I only have those moments when I don’t take them. I guess signs would be highly irritated, suddenly trying to pick a fight, mostly with Sam. I suddenly get offended and raise my voice, saying a lot of terrible things that anyone who knows me know that I don’t mean.”

But would you hurt me. Castiel stared at Dean and literally became so cold that he despised the feeling. What if during one of those episodes, Dean’s aggressiveness climbed too high and he couldn’t do anything to stop it? What if he wasn’t enough?

“Dean, would you be willing to ask Rowena to talk to me about these things?” Castiel asked. “I’m not saying that getting the information from you isn’t enough but I need to know as much as I can.”

Dean nodded slowly. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea. Cas, just promise me two things and I can guarantee you that I’m going to be okay.”

“Tell me.”

“First,” Dean’s expression became strained, “I know that it’s my responsibility to take my meds but I can’t do it alone because I have so much weighing down on me because of my duties. Maybe I’ll slip up and then something happens. So, can you please,” he squeezed Castiel’s hand and pleaded, “make sure that I’m on track with those? If you notice those mild or scary signs, get me to take Lithium as soon as possible. And secondly…”

“Secondly,” Castiel eagerly awaited the next advice. “Go on.”

Dean tilted his head and smiled. “I will get spaced out. I’ll sleep for hours some days and then wake up and not say a word to you. I might be grumpy and moody like I’m suffering through PMS. Or I might cry suddenly and hate the world and start to say crappy things about myself. But Cas, please. Please don’t think that you’re to be blamed because I want you to remember that I love you and there will be times when my mind wants to convince me that you don’t love me back. And I don’t deserve you. But like you promised before, you’ll stick around and you wouldn’t let me go.”

“No matter how hard you push me away.”

“Right,” Dean’s voice grew hoarse. “I’m worth it and if you have any doubts, just remember that we still have a long way to go in bed and even when we go all the way, we’ll need to do it over and over again.”

“You sexy ass,” Castiel picked up a towel from the table and pelted it at Dean who ducked and laughed. “And by all the way you mean…”

Green eyes sparkled. “I don’t know what you think I mean. I think you should tell me so that we’re on the same page.”

“You know,” Castiel’s voice grew smaller as his cheeks flushed. “Sticking things inside of…things. They never taught us that in biology or how sex works in school. But human instinct kicks in when pleasure is mostly desired. And I’m assuming that sex involving two men is as orgasmic as the alternative.”

“Believe me, it is as orgasmic and it’s nothing you can ever imagine in your wildest dreams. Whether you’re giving or taking.”

“Right now, I’d like to take all of you,” Castiel smiled as Dean swallowed hard from across the table. “And I’m going to keep saying that until you give me all you have.” But his mobile rung and he groaned. “It’s Ruby. Give me a sec,” he answered and searched Dean’s green eyes that suddenly took on a mischievous look. “Hello, kitten. How are you?”

Ruby purred. “I’m peachy. And you, my sexy minx?”

Castiel’s chest burned when Dean slipped under the table and out of view. “I think you caught me at a bad time. Can I call you back?”

“No way!” Ruby groaned. “I’ve been aching to talk to you for so long. Now that Dean’s got you all to himself, there’s no room for your best friend. Do you even remember me at all?”

“Mmhmm, I…remember you,” Castiel swallowed hard when the front of his pants was touched tenderly and then the sound of the zipper being undone sliced in the room like the warning sound to a disaster. “I miss you too.”

“Miss you more. Where’s Dean? Tell him I said hi.”

“Well, at the moment I don’t know where he is,” Castiel lied, “but I’ll let him know that you said hi.” He gasped when Dean, hidden from view, tasted him for the first time and the exactness of how lovely those lips felt around the tip of his cock was glorifying.

“Meg has been going on and on about us throwing a party or something with you, me, Dean, her, and maybe Sam. But I think Sam’s occupied with Eileen and the baby so…”

“He is…” biting his lips, Castiel tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear and the chair scraped back a few inches. But then when he witnessed firsthand what Dean’s mouth was doing to him, he forcefully swallowed a moan.

“Listen, if you bail on me after I dragged you here to snag your boyfriend, I’m going to hunt you down and end you,” Ruby warned.

“I’m not going to…bail on you…” Castiel’s tone took on a hoarser quality. He ran his fingers through Dean’s soft hair and started suffocating. “I have to go, Ruby. I’ll call you in half an hour. Christ!” quickly, he fumbled with the phone and ended the call as Dean took all of him into his mouth. “Are you insane? How could you even…fuck!”

Those green eyes sparkled and taking a hold of Castiel’s hips, the other man started to deliver the best blowjob he had ever been on the receiving end of. Running those wet lips over the length of him and sucking with just the right amount of vigor that was enough to turn Castiel’s mind upside down, Dean kept on going on his knees.

By the time he was flicking his tongue on the tip of Castiel’s cock and awakening an abundance of moans, Dean was immensely pleasured. Not only from Castiel reaching behind him to hold onto the chair, but the way he tossed his head back and stared up at the ceiling with listless eyes, lips parted and breathing hard.

Castiel was slowly becoming undone and in it for the long haul, well at least until the ride towards his mind shattering from pleasure drove him crazy.

And Dean…

Well, there was no bounds to what he could manage when drowning in the purest kind of passion fueled by love. He kept taking all of Castiel into his throat and over and over again, Castiel’s loud moans filled the room.

Dean was certain that although the walls were thick enough, the soft cries unearthed from Castiel would seep through the cracks and reach the staff outside. But he didn’t care whilst he drove Castiel towards the edge. There was nothing that could hold him back, not even defamation of character from making love to the man he loved from the first time he laid eyes on him.

Oh, how he had fallen in love with Castiel and he wanted everyone to know that finally, he found something worth living for.

Dean was completely aware that when Castiel came inside of his mouth, the walls would remember his name for as long as possible. The chair strained under the weight of Castiel’s hips jerking after every release and his moans were sinful and rumbling from a place inside of him that was never awakened before.

The way Dean kept sucking and tightening his grip eventually tormented Castiel enough to ride that high again. This time though, he was writhing on the chair as if the very touch of his ass on the seat was like being scorched fire.

Then when his hands left Dean’s hair to grab onto the edge of the table, Castiel pleaded for the other man, not to cease whatever he was doing, but for a reason he had no substance to. Just that he was fully aware of struggling away from the immense pleasure rippling through him, from Dean’s mouth latching onto his cock and pulling his hips closer, that Castiel was driven to weakly stand up. And he bent over the table, suffocating whilst mumbling in a language that was not English anymore.

When Castiel came again, folding over, Dean hugged him tight around the waist and swallowed him whole. And with his jeans bunched around his boots, Castiel almost stumbled backwards but he was held in place by a mouth that was hot and relentless on its pursuit to keep on going until he kept coming over and over again, weakening himself from being overly spent.

Dean eventually had to ease Castiel onto the chair again after pulling away and he marveled over the other man’s disposition that revealed nothing but complete exhaustion.

“I’m…dead…aren’t…I?” Castiel tilted his head back, eyes closed and his chest wouldn’t stop heaving.

“Nah, you’re going to be fine,” Dean helped tuck Castiel back into his pants and then he perched himself on the edge of the table with a wide grin. “By the way, you taste absolutely delicious.”

“I can’t feel my…legs. Did you detach them from my body?”

Dean laughed. He bit his lips and admired how flushed the other man’s skin had become. “You should see how you look right now.”

Their eyes met and the gaze intensified. “Do tell me exactly what you see, you savage beast.”

“A snack,” Dean’s handsome face revealed nothing but love and honest desire. “Do you think you can stand up as yet?”

“God no,” Castiel protested, arms falling lifelessly down his sides. “I’m going to sit here for at least another four hours whilst trying to gather my mind.”

“Good,” afterwards, Dean’s shoes lightly squeaked on the polished wooden floor as he dashed towards the door and fastened the bolts. Then whilst blue eyes followed him around every turn of the room, the Prince checked the two remaining doors.

“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Castiel stared at Dean as he slowly approached the table. “You’re going to drive me insane. Have me picking up the pieces of my goddamn mind from the floor after you’re done with me. I’ve become your chew toy and your lollipop, is that it?”

Unbuckling his belt, Dean smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“That’s a stupid question and you know it,” Castiel eyed the other man longingly.

“I’m going to restrain you.” Dean captured the belt between both his hands and displayed it with an open disposition.

“Goodness, why?” Castiel’s eyes were as wide as saucers when the distance narrowed between them.

“You’ll see why,” and without sparing a second, the Prince tugged the other man’s hands behind the chair and wounded the belt around Castiel’s wrists to serve as a restraint that wasn’t too tight but adequate enough.

“Okay, now I’m beginning to wonder. Not worry,” Castiel nodded whilst Dean stepped away with a look of utter mischief on his handsome face. “But out of curiosity. Dean…”

The Prince’s low chuckle was accompanied by his boldness that followed afterwards when he started to slowly unbutton his red, long-sleeved shirt. Torturously slow though, whilst those green eyes latched onto blue ones that gazed back in amazement as Dean kept on going, keeping an adequate amount of distance between them. And then, after shrugging off his shirt, he tossed it onto the table and admired the way Castiel’s chest heaved.

“Do you want me to continue?” Dean teased with a smile, the tip of his tongue tucked between his wide display of teeth.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Castiel’s adam’s apple bobbed then gripping the seat of the chair, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the show that was being put on in front of him.

Dean moved on to unzipping his blue jeans, but painfully slow though as if the weight of the world was on every second. His boots followed next as he toed one after the other off and all the while, Castiel was suffocating.

“Take it all off,” his voice was breathy when the Prince’s arms rippled from muscles and the contours of his body were sculpted to perfection.

When Dean slowly tugged down the waist of his jeans, their eyes latched together again. This time though, Castiel reflexively pulled at his restraints from once again being confronted by the other man keeping up his promise of going commando. And from across the room, Dean’s cock was already erect and greeting him almost like a bold attempt to tease and mock the hell out of Castiel who kept on struggling with the belt looped around his wrists.

“You can’t do this to me!” he implored in a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to him. “Dean, I command that you let me go. Dammit.”

Standing there with his jeans pooled around his feet, Dean stepped away and naked in all his glory, he offered a wide grin. “Think of me as a painting. You can admire me on the canvas but you can’t touch me. Not really.”

“Dean!”

Laughing, the Prince closed the distance between them and swung a leg over Castiel’s lap. “We have exactly five minutes to spare before I take you out of here.”

“To a bed?” Castiel licked his lips and leaned into the other man’s waist, pressing a soft kiss onto the smooth and perfect skin under Dean’s navel.

“Nah, to Highclere Castle where Downton Abbey was filmed. It’s not far from here.” Capturing Castiel’s soft hair between his fingers, Dean savored the feel of the man’s lips on his torso. It was all he wanted; to be kissed so softly and intimately.

“As much as it’s one of the places to visit on my bucket list,” Castiel nudged his face closer to Dean’s cock, “right now, I feel like declining because I can’t really turn down what’s in front of me.”

“Five minutes, Cas.”

“Fuck you and your five minutes,” Castiel growled, and when the other man chuckled, he finally managed to capture Dean’s cock between his lips but was quickly deprived of the accomplishment.

“You know, I can get used to this.”

“It’s like bobbing my goddamn head into a barrel for an apple. You’re going to pay for this, Dean Winchester. I swear, you better make sure you’re a mile away when I get out of your restraint.”

“This is what courting me feels like, Cas.” Dean’s smile was gracious as his caresses on the other man’s face that was completely flushed. “Do you want me to make it easy for you?”

“It’s no fair that you can blow my mind like you did less than fifteen minutes ago, no pun intended,” Castiel scowled. “And now I’m deprived of returning the favor. Why are you tormenting me?”

Dean took a hold of his cock and whilst running his fingers slowly through Castiel’s hair, he brushed the tip onto those perfectly parted lips. Immediately though, Castiel was so fueled by frustration that he moved in and took most of what he could in inches into his mouth. And after tasting Dean on his tongue for the first time, Castiel was too breathless to even focus.

It was like his brother had mentioned over the phone many nights ago; novel and unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life, because Castiel was so much in love with Dean and attracted to his body, that he really moved past any other discomfort from reflex to settle on savoring the moment.

Castiel kept doing the things Dean had done to him prior and then he realized there was one weak spot that when focused on immensely, the other man leaned in closer. And all of the moans emanating from Dean turned into the hoarse cries of his name when Castiel kept playing his tongue over and over again on the tip of Dean’s cock.

Possibly what was more enticing was to discover how much of Dean he could accommodate inside of his mouth and it wasn’t too long before he discovered the meaning of the word gagging.

But he did it perhaps with the best intent as Dean tensed up and his fingers drove deeper paths into Castiel’s disheveled hair. Which obviously meant that he was just nearing the edge, and whilst Castiel swum in the dizzying scent of Midnight & Two; Dean’s perfume and the heavy scent of Irish Spring, he relaxed. Because it was his first time and although all of the nerves were tightened inside of him like little balls of uncertainty from whatever he was doing, Dean’s body was opening up like a box of rainbows.

“Cas!” he suddenly cried hoarsely, his breath hitching over and over again and just when he was on the brink of release, Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulders and tried to steady himself.

He came over and over again whilst Castiel swallowed him after every thrust, after ever shout of his name to the ceiling. And then when he was completely spent, Dean lowered himself weakly onto the other man’s lap and crushed their lips together, tasting himself in Castiel’s mouth and driving the two of them breathless.

By the time they joined the tour at Highclere Castle, it was already past four o’clock and the blue and red flag of the Herbert family was flapping wildly in the heavy winds brought on from the threatening thunderstorm.

Castiel couldn’t be more elated after the turn of events and even as they entered the depths of the castle, he could still taste Dean in his mouth and it was something that glorified him in a guilty way he couldn’t quite fathom.

Maybe it was a triumphant feeling of earning yet another star in his achievement book from making love to Dean, the man who he loved completely and would do anything for. Or maybe it was the actuality of the scene he lived through; of finally bobbing for that goddamn apple and coming out as a winner.

But Dean wasn’t short of intense gazes during their walk around the interior of Highclere. He kept looking at Castiel like something really and truly changed between them; something that resembled the peeling back of their layers one by one and after coming so close to being completely and truly intimate with each other, Dean was really becoming immensely emotionally attached to him.

Castiel noticed it from the moment they left Sam’s castle, that Dean couldn’t stop touching him in the softest way; whether it was pulling him into a warm embrace, pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek or entwining their fingers during the car ride.

All of it was reminiscent of a kind of love that Castiel never experienced before. And he was amazed by the pull of their bodies towards each other; desperately needing Dean to touch him and to look at him.

When they talked to each other afterwards, Dean’s tone was softer and his green eyes took on a gaze that not only lingered, but sought out a deeper part of Castiel that no one had ever been allowed to touch. And maybe it was the boundaries shattered from making love to each other, but it was so beautiful to Castiel, to wander around the castle whilst Dean lingered a few inches away from him.

Whilst he listened to the tour guide explain the modifications that were done to accommodate the filming of Downton Abbey on the castle, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Castiel.

It wasn’t intimidating though; Dean was now capable of touching Castiel through the wandering of his eyes without physical contact and it was too blissful to stand there in the presence of others and feel so entirely exposed by a man who had become so much more than his lover.

By the time they were shown onto the grounds and took a turn around the castle, Castiel separated himself from the group as much as he could to confide in Dean because he had to say something to him. The gazes left him craving their deep conversations that could be satisfying enough to fill in the blanks. And almost immediately after seeking out Dean’s company, the other man entwined their fingers and delivered a deepened gaze that felt like coming home.

“Thank you, for this,” Castiel allowed the crowd to move on a little without the two of them joining in. “And for these past two days away from work. It was more than I deserved.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dean’s voice was uneven as he squeezed their fingers together. “I’d do anything for you.”

He was so handsome, dressed in a royal blue short-sleeved shirt with black pants. And whilst there was the absence of a tie because he only wore those on formal occasions, Dean was extensively good looking in any attire. Coupled with his youthful features and the soft strands of hair that side swept onto his right temple; he was wildly attractive enough to capture anyone’s attention.

“Why did you restrain me?” Castiel still wondered on the truth when he searched green eyes. “Didn’t you want me to touch you? What were you afraid of?”

Dean’s chest heaved and when the group of tourists moved around the castle towards the entrance, the two of them remained under the shade of a tree.

“I did it because I knew that I would lose control if I didn’t. And then I would be taking your clothes off and you can just imagine what else could come afterwards.”

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly,” Castiel frowned, “we’re still taking things slow.”

“I guess…” Dean shrugged.

“And we’ve made out three times in two days.”

Castiel had no idea how appealing his disheveled hair was in all its entirety. The strands couldn’t even be tamed no matter how many times Dean ran his fingers through them, trying to settle the wild after sex look. And whilst he stood there attired in his Downton Abbey graphic t-shirt and a pair of tight blue jeans, Dean was even fonder of their attachment to each other. And absolutely yes, he had packed the t-shirt into Castiel’s luggage deliberately knowing that their paths would lead them to Highclere Castle.

“Dammit, Cas, I feel like I’m in high school again running on adrenaline because I can’t stop…wanting you. All of you,” Dean’s voice grew huskier. “And if you really want to know why I’m so hesitant to go all the way with you, it’s because from past experience, everyone that I’ve slept with…they left me afterwards. After we…” his eyes implored understanding. “And I can’t go through that again. Especially not with you because it would kill me.”

“Dean,” Castiel took both of the other man’s hands into his and wondered how people in the world could be so unfair to someone that was deserving of nothing less that absolute love and care. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what they all said, Cas,” Dean’s eyes glistened with tears. “That’s what Lisa…” his words faltered and he lowered his gaze to their shoes. “That’s what she did when I gave her everything that I could give her. I mean, sure I was a teenager hellbent on finding someone who could love me and understand me and I thought she did. But…after a while, after we went all the way, something just faded inside of her. And I was left to make the hard choice of either walking away or staying and trying to make her feel as in love with me as she was before.”

Castiel was astounded by the depth of Dean’s confession, and maybe all of it painted the doubts inside of his mind in darker shades that were too painful to swallow because he couldn’t understand it all. He couldn’t understand how someone could love Dean and then let him go without fighting. Without trying to remember that he was completely worth it in so many ways; all the struggles and all the turn downs.

Perhaps Lisa and everyone else had been too consumed by their wants instead of considering Dean’s needs that they chose to fade away. Or maybe they were too young and unequipped with the knowledge of being bruised from a world that took advantage of certain people and then discarded them like dolls the way he had been tossed aside by Hanna, by his parents and people he thought were his friends.

Castiel understood all of his struggles as much as he saw through the cracks into the Prince’s heart.

“I’m never going to be like them and do you know why?” Castiel captured Dean’s face between his palms softly, his fingers curling into the soft tendrils. “Because for the first time in my entire life, I’ve found someone who looks at me with eyes that don’t judge my flaws or my past. Or my peculiarities in my attire. I’ve told you before, Dean, and you’ve shared the same sentiments; that we’ve always been searching for someone who shared the same love for Jane Austen as we do. And it’s not just as simple as it sounds.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist and didn’t care about anyone’s prying eyes. “We understand what it’s like to defy all odds because of how much we love each other. Just like in her books. Relentlessly fighting against obstacles to hold on to each other.”

“Exactly,” Castiel pressed a chaste kiss onto Dean’s forehead. “Also, I cannot deny that sex plays a significant part in being your lover. But…” he kissed Dean’s lips whilst he chuckled, “it is not substantial as compared to everything else that encompasses how beautiful you are to me. I love the depth of your heart, Dean. You’ve proven to me that love has no bounds by keeping your promise after we parted a little over three months ago. It’s something that I will never forget. And believe me, whenever you’re ready for us to go all the way as you keeping teasing me constantly, I’m not going to leave you afterwards.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dean was still doubtful and he had every right to be. “I need to hear you say it, Cas. I know that I might sound so stubborn right now. But I need you to tell me.”

For a long time, the two of them gazed at each under as the wind rustled the leaves in the tree sheltering them. As the tour ended and everyone lingered inside whilst enjoying refreshments and snacks. As the rolling grassland around them remained unoccupied and breathtaking.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart,” Castiel rested their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him in close. “I want to…as crazy as it sounds…get married to you like you once promised me on the phone when we were so far away from each other. And I want us to live inside our own Jane Austen fairytale. I want to wake up next to you every day after I move into Northampton and eat breakfast with you whilst having tea.”

Dean’s soft chuckle was coupled with tears in his green eyes. “Cas…”

“I want to be there with you when you have your highs and your lows so that I can remind you of how beautiful and worth it you are. And then when we are ready, I want us to have a child that we can raise to become as obsessed with Jane Austen and Disney movies as we are. Do you see how far into the future I’ve thought about us?” Castiel’s tears leaked onto Dean’s cheeks. “How on earth could you even think that I’m going to leave you after I’ve mapped so much of our lives out already?”

“You’re going to make me cry,” Dean chuckled through his tears. “And I hate chick flick moments. You know that. Dammit, Cas. You make me so goddamn weak from loving you. I want…all of those things too. With you.” He rubbed their noses together and sighed.

“Good, I’m glad to know that.”

“Can we just stay here?” Dean held Castiel close and the two of them swayed together in each other’s warmth. “For a little longer? I just want to hug you in the midst of a building thunderstorm.”

“Because whilst the entire atmosphere around us is filled with static and threatening rain, we’ve found love in the eye of the storm?”

Dean’s chest melted from their souls bonding so well. “Exactly, Cas.”

“Is there a limit to how many times I can tell you I love you?”

Castiel pulled Dean in and tasted his lips. The depth of the kiss was breathtaking and weakened his knees. “There will never be a limit.”

“I love you,” Dean croaked, as the two of them swayed slowly in the wind. “Should have been my opening line when I first met you.”

“It might have come across as creepy,” Castiel smiled. “What you could have done was quote Austen to me and then show me your library right afterwards. Honestly, we would be fucking right there on the floor in Northampton without conversation.”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean laughed, completely amazed. “You really want me that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” melting into the other man’s embrace, Castiel moaned. “I really want you Big D.”

“It’s Prince D, you tease!” Dean’s laughter filled the air afterwards.

Chapter Text

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies

JANE AUSTEN, Northanger Abbey

Sam and Eileen’s baby daughter was born twenty four hours after she slipped into labor, on a warm and sunny morning that came after the thunderstorm.

By then, Dean and Castiel were already in London again; the former supervising extensive renovations in his gym and the latter trying to focus on editing several articles at once, whilst Sam kept bombarding him with the cutest baby photos on Messenger.

Her name was Salena, as proposed by her uncle who would evidently become the next King of England. And she possessed the widest hazel eyes and dark hair that was constantly a torment to Castiel for the entire morning whilst he sipped his coffee and scrolled through the baby swathed in a soft blanket and sleeping on Sam’s lap.

After all, Sam couldn’t wait to capture the baby into his possession the moment Eileen slipped into a restful state. He was sleeping on the mattress Dean helped him drag upstairs until the wee morning when the midwife bustled out to deliver the news. And immediately afterwards, Sam called his brothers then his mother and Castiel to inform them that Eileen was in good health and so was the baby.

Whilst almost forty photos were received on Castiel’s phone at ten o’clock, Dean barely had time to unlock his own mobile because of the construction work on the bottom flat of the castle.

He decided to relocate the gym to the third floor because of the lack of proper ventilation provided on the lower levels of the castle. But it wasn’t an easy fete since every single piece of equipment needed to be manually carried up the winding staircases and down hallways by men who didn’t complain because of the abundance of wages promised. Then after the space was cleared downstairs, the next plan was to remodel the bottom flat into extended living quarters for the staff that he always held close to his heart.

Dean also was desperately in need of a sufficient distraction.

On the trip back to London in a taxi, he fell into a deep slumber, his face buried into the crook of Castiel’s left shoulder, dreaming of their intimate moment by the bubbling stream and how Castiel’s kisses tasted like honey and vanilla. Then he drifted into memories of their last conversation; the promises Castiel spoke of freely and how he expressed his wishes to be involved in Dean’s future.

But when he was lightly shaken awake and immediately felt the absence of those warm arms tenderly hugging him, Dean discovered that the taxi was parked outside of Northampton. There was no Castiel in the depths of the backseat smiling out at him, and the sense of dread that washed over him was unlike anything Dean ever experienced in his life.

For the entire morning, he kept wondering why the other man left him alone after it was presumed that the two of them would return to his castle together.

Did he say something wrong? Did Castiel have an epiphany on the journey back that forced him into reconsidering their future together? Or was he stupidly overthinking everything as the honest hints of anxiety captured him inside of a net of doubt?

“Boss, up against the wall or right next to the treadmill?” one of the beefy guys that worked on Benny’s construction team stared at him.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts and he gestured by the window. “Not too close though. Let at least three feet remain between them.”

“Where’s the other half?” Benny waltzed over and nudged his arm. Arms bulging in a black tank, his ripped black jeans gave him the appearance of a buffed man who shouldn’t be trifled with.

“Work,” Dean checked the clipboard and realized that ten pieces of equipment had already been moved upstairs in less than an hour. “Hey, where did you get these men from? A steroid camp?”

Benny threw back his head and guffawed. “Naw man. It ain’t like that. These folks here been with me a couple years now on and off. Although Joe over there is a street fighter,” he gestured at the tanned figure of a man who resembled Hulk. “You good though? I see you looking distracted.”

The last thing he needed at the moment was to continue worrying about waking up in a taxi all by himself. “Yeah, I’m good. Just got plenty on my mind.”

“Listen here, Big D,” Benny took a hold of Dean’s right shoulder, “relationships have their ups and downs. It takes a lot of work but you got to hang in there. Best days are to come and Castiel seems like the loyal type. I don’t think he’s going nowhere. But most of all, remember that you deserve all the love you can get.”

“Don’t start getting soft on me,” Dean playfully chucked his best friend’s beefy shoulder away and smiled although the sides of his face ached from a strained amused countenance.

By eleven thirty, the Steroid Team began to vigorously knock down the concrete walls on the bottom flat and Dean resorted to sitting at the top of the concrete stairs just outside of his castle in the warm sunlight.

The amount of times he checked his mobile for new messages couldn’t be labelled as anything but obsessive, and although Dean was privy to many of his shameful habits, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the newly formed one resulted from one truth.

That he was absolutely and utterly and completely in love.

Should he call Castiel who was probably swamped in work as always? Maybe he should text him and ask how his day was unfolding so far? Was there any other excuse to refrain from texting or calling except that he guiltily felt clingy and mushy and soft from love, when he never in his entire life found himself flailing in a pond of feelings quite extraordinary for someone else?

Dean was always a hopeless romantic but he loved with the kind of depth that many of his lovers lacked understanding. They would come into his life like a wide eyed stranger eager to discover a mutuality that could fuel a passionate and close bond.

But every single one of them bolted out the door when they began to listen to the whispers of Dean’s mind. The shadows that lurked and tried to crawl into their spaces between lovemaking and conversations. And although he could never deny the tremendous efforts made to maintain those relationships, none of them were ever substantial enough to last beyond satisfying a physical need.

Now though, Dean flipped his mobile around two fingers, emerald eyes strained on the unicorn spurting water that sparkled in the sunlight from its horn, and he really wondered if he was allowed to be contented.

How on earth could someone like Castiel sweep into his life, upturn it, leave and then come back with these heartwarming promises and definite commitment? And maybe he was pulling himself down lower than his worth but could someone like him ever find true love?

The essence of love between him and Castiel was nothing like he ever experienced in his life. Their conversations contained so much depth, leaving him thirsting for more, as well as their mutual interests that seemed to be boundless. Books, music, a desperate need to be loved in an old-fashioned sort of way that didn’t entail parties and wild hangouts but mostly gained from the beauty of being surrounded by nature.

He sat there, legs spread out on the topmost step and Dean could still feel Castiel’s touch lingering on his skin like a ghost, his kisses warm and tingling his pores. His hugs were definite and offered a sense of security, and their intense gazes…

Dean could gaze into those eyes forever; those ocean eyes that expressed so much love and admiration, loving him because he was fragile although he was fighting desperately to keep his head above water for so many years. And now Castiel sheltered and washed him over with a sense of comfort that was phenomenal, that left his fingers feeling empty from the spaces between them.

Tears clouded his eyes, blurring the distant fountain and the line of trees around the grounds because he couldn’t ignore the truth.

Dean understood that being bipolar was tragic enough to chase away those people who could never understand that loving him was like holding a tender mess of broken shells between their fingers.

But then there was Castiel, who hugged those jagged pieces close to his heart and never wanted to let them go. There was someone who came into his life with the intention to learn about his highs and lows and determined to stay by his side.

Castiel sat in one attitude at his desk for a long time staring at an article that was obstructed by the handsome features of Dean’s face; his beautiful green eyes that always sparkled, and the little lopsided smile or the adorable habit Dean adopted by tucking his tongue between his teeth.

Then those beautiful thick eyelashes that fluttered slowly when flirting and the sinful smirk on Dean’s perfect, kissable lips. The absent stubble that still felt godly when their faces rubbed together affectionately and the soft strands of brown hair that loved to become unsettled by the slightest wind.

If Castiel was forced to remark on Dean’s hugs, he would perhaps settle on the word heavenly because blissful seemed rather like an understatement.

If he was asked to describe Dean’s disposition, then there were no other words but light-humored, loving, playful, energetic, affectionate, generous, tender and bold.

But most of all, when Castiel thought of Dean, he reflected on those bold advances that upended his belief in anything normal. And if Dean never swept into his life constantly like a hurricane equipped with a sense of certainty, then the two of them wouldn’t be together at all.

After his mobile began to chirp, he welcomed the distraction from staring at a brick wall of an article.

“You said you’d call me back in half an hour!” was Ruby’s response. “It’s now twenty fucking hours later and I’m still waiting.”

“Shit,” Castiel swore, pinched his forehead and sighed. He was too overwhelmed lately to even remember his best friend’s sympathies and concerns. “I’ll make it up to you. Me being a crappy friend. But you caught me at bad time yesterday.”

“Are things okay between you and Dean?” Ruby’s immediate thought would always settle on the worry because she cared too much about his fragility, after all, she had seen him hit rock bottom.

“Everything is peachy,” he said in his gravelly voice as a train rolled by outside, rattling the shutters on the window and the coffee cup sitting on the desk. “Dean was kind of…under the desk when you called yesterday.”

“Doing what? Ohhhhh.” Leave it to Ruby to immediately decipher the sexual references. Her laughter was raw and wicked. “So, how was your first ever blowjob?”

“Why on earth would you believe that it was my first?”

“Cas, I can detect a virgin a mile away. And no!” she interrupted him immediately, “your ex-wife doesn’t count because she never made you come, remember?”

“Christ, we’re having that kind of conversation at lunch,” Castiel could literally feel the warmth creep up his neck and onto his face. Then it suddenly dawned upon him that maybe Gabriel and Ruby were two peas in a pod. “By all means, let’s examine my sex life.”

“How was it?” Ruby sounded too pleased for him to disconnect the call and blame the network’s faulty signal.

“Toe curling, now can we stop talking about it? I’m at work.”

“Did the two of you reach third base as yet?”

“Huh?” Puzzled, he stared at the colorful bubbles dancing across his laptop screen.

“Castiel, I thought that after hanging out with me, you’d be versed in all these things! Well, for you it would be different but…” Ruby sighed. “Okay, so there are like four bases in a relationship.”

He was still confused, leaning back in his chair and silently observing the shadows passing by the glass on the door. The constant tapping of keys could be quite annoying after spending a full minute in what they called The Hub. But the most gratifying part of relocating to the office in London was an absence of Zachariah and the likes of Daphne Hatchet, possibly the exact replica of a sixty-five year old Violet Crawley from Downton Abbey.

“First base is just tongue, basically,” Ruby kept on going, obviously determined to corrupt his virgin mind. “You know, kissing and using tongue. Which I bet Dean’s done to you already. Second base is you feeling him up, him feeling you up…in other words, getting frisky.”

“Are you ever going to realize that none of this sex talk matters to me?” Castiel was practically pleading for her to stop. “I don’t need to talk about it.”

It was enough to persuade Ruby to continue. “Now third base for two guys I guess would be blowjobs and rubbing your privates together –”

“I’m hanging up now, dammit –”

“Fourth base!” she raised her voice to capture his attention, “is just plain old fucking. I’m guessing you’re only at third base, unless he’s fucked you and that’s why you’re missing for days because you’re so hung on the moon in love with the monster cock.”

“Can you just shut up?” Castiel’s fingers were trembling, either from an abundance of memories washing over him from those intimate encounters with Dean, or a definite signal that he was hungry and his blood sugar level was too low. “Dammit, Ruby, there’s so much more to a relationship than sex.”

“What is black and white and is red all over? A goddamn boring newspaper just like anyone’s life would be without sex. Did the big lug and the short dumb get the baby as yet?”

“Would you look at the time,” Castiel heard a series of soft knocks on his door and stared at it. “I have to go and find something for lunch.”

When he ended the call with Ruby though, there was that uncomfortable ache between his legs that was reminiscent of suffering through arousal spells in the New York office. Just when he thought that most of the bad habits were left behind in his old life, those were obviously packed and transported here to London with the aid of his dearest best friend.

Castiel, however, was not entirely prepared when the door slowly swung inwards and presented Dean in the doorway, looking rather dashing as always and possibly delicious.

“Hi, love,” he came in smiling and holding up two brown paper bags whilst the entire setting inside The Hub was transformed into complete chaos. “I brought you some lunch.”

“Dean,” Castiel stood up, as stunned as he was from the sudden appearance, and instantly realized that The Daily Scandal’s office would be in raptures over the Prince’s visit.

“I hope you don’t mind pasta, uh,” Dean pressed the door close behind him and appeared severely shy, “I mean, do you mind me being here? I know that you have a ton of work to do and I’m probably intruding but I couldn’t—”

“I don’t mind at all,” Castiel smiled warmly and gestured at the only other chair in the room that was rather comfortable unlike the ugly wooden ones in his old office. “Bring it around next to me. Let’s admire the world outside the window whilst we eat.”

Perhaps the most delightful part of it all was that he detested surprises but Dean showing up unannounced meant the world to Castiel. And as small as the gesture was, bringing lunch and saving him a trip across the road oozed bliss from a romantic story.

Dean positioned the soft cushioned chair easily next to Castiel’s black ergonomic one. Then whilst he handed over the paper bag, their fingers brushed barely at first. But Dean couldn’t help himself. He hooked their index fingers together and tugged a little, their eyes locked in a gaze that grew with intensity as the second slipped by.

Thank goodness the glass window on Castiel’s door was opaque or else when they brushed their lips together, there would have been a thrilling audience outside.

Dean tasted like a warm summer day, and trembled like a leaf caressed by the wind when he kissed Castiel deep and long. Their heads tilted to accommodate so much more than enough and by the time their minds were dizzied from the blissful moment, their stomachs reminded them that love couldn’t quite fill the absence of food.

“I swear, Sam’s sent me like one hundred photos of Salena,” Dean pressed a square of tissue onto Castiel’s lap, still unable to fight the paranoia from waking up alone in the taxi.

“All morning for me too. It’s only natural. He’s a happy father.”

“The two of them had been trying for over a year,” Dean confessed whilst he admired Castiel’s smile of approval on the taste of the pasta. “Since we were kids, I always thought that Sam would grow up to be the best father because he’s always been the nurturing type.”

“I know you’d be a wonderful father too, Dean,” Castiel savored the warmth emanating from their arms pressed together as they ate. It was so comfortable and soothing to bond with someone else after so many years.

“I guess,” the Prince lowered his eyes and shrugged whilst he chewed. “Sometimes I don’t feel like I’d be good at it though.”

“Why?” the gaze enacted was filled with nothing but open honesty and love. “Because more than half of the world would disagree after your continuous interactions with children. Your visits to the hospitals, and orphanages; they cling to you because they latch onto that inner happiness that you possess.”

“My highs and lows?” Dean’s question cracked his voice, the fork poised in midair over the bowl of pasta resting on his lap. Their gaze was intense and immediate and he savored the honesty in the connection.

“Dean, you wouldn’t be on your own. I’ll be there with you, remember?”

Just to hear the confirmation once again about Castiel’s belief in their future together brought tears to Dean’s eyes.

“And anyway, even if you choose not to have me, then I’m certain that you’ll be a phenomenal father.”

“Wait, what?” Dean’s eyes widened. He dropped the fork into the bowl and was filled with confusion that felt like cotton balls stuffed inside of his chest. Studying Castiel’s face, he detected a slightly downcast countenance. “What do you mean if I choose not to have you? I’ve already chosen you, for as long as it takes.”

“But have you really thought about this, Dean?” Castiel’s pleading eyes suggested nothing more than uncertainty. “Of course, I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me but you yourself voiced your disbelief in our attachment lasting more than just a season. If I could really, and I mean really,” his cupped fingers caressed the other man’s jaw tenderly, “be included in your future as your everything, I wouldn’t mind at all. But…”

Dean was staring, and it was like waiting on a glass ball to fall down on him, shattering into a million pieces. “But…” his voice cracked, the pasta already forgotten of because he was too consumed with doubts.

“I just thought on our ride back in the taxi that maybe I could be depriving you of finding someone younger…or spritely or…” Castiel was shaking his head, tears clouding those blue eyes all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” he confessed hoarsely, picking up the fork again. “I’m so sorry for being like this.”

“Cas…” Dean quickly reached for the other man’s hand, slipped the fork out of his grasp and entwined their fingers. “Look at me, okay? Just…” he tenderly tipped up Castiel’s chin, so that their eyes could meet, “…tell me what brought this on. What happened? We left Hampshire completely hopeful and then I spent the entire morning wondering why you left me in the taxi alone, and you didn’t go home with me like you said you would…”

“I…” Castiel battled with his feelings, trying to gain composure whilst avoiding Dean’s soft, green eyes and when he couldn’t manage to stare at his pasta any longer, he stared out the window. “Sam and Eileen are so happy and young. And when I was sitting at the table having lunch, it dawned upon me that out of the four of us, I’m the eldest and…”

“And what, Cas?” Dean cradled Castiel’s face into his palm and the other man leant into the touch.

“A little over ten years.”

“My parents are ten years apart too. When John met my mother, he was thirty-three and she was twenty-three. Our age difference doesn’t matter.” Dean felt nothing from a gap that was so insignificant and always would be because his generation could never quite express the maturity that Castiel exhibited.

“Okay, fine. But the birth of a baby from their bond and love…”

“Nonsense. You were the one who promised me that we would have a child of our own someday, remember?”

“But procreation, Dean,” Castiel’s eyes implored understanding, “don’t you want that with someone? Don’t you want to produce an heir to the throne?”

Dean’s green eyes sparkled and he chuckled, whilst his fingers played with the strands behind Castiel’s neck. “No. I’ve never wanted to be King. I don’t want to force that kind of pressure on any child of mine and I don’t care about procreation because there are plenty of babies out there who are alone and in orphanages and are hoping so much to have a home. This is different, Cas, can’t you feel it?” Dean squeezed their entwined fingers. “It’s magical, what’s between us.”

Shaking his head and offering a small smile, Castiel blinked slowly, still leaning into Dean’s caressing fingers. “It most certainly is. Now let’s eat up because I have ten articles to proofread for tomorrow’s print and I can’t do that with your bewitching eyes cast upon me.”

Dean’s smile was golden, tongue tucked between his two perfect rows of teeth and he resumed eating. But not for long though, because spending the entire morning worrying about their commitment to each other fueled so much tension inside of his body. He worked himself up physically and emotionally to a breaking point that tipped right over just when Castiel followed him to the door.

“I’ll pick you up at four,” Dean offered. “Or five. Whichever time suits you.”

“Five,” Castiel eyed the Prince latching the door, his back pressed onto the glass and the fire in those green eyes suggested nothing but growing desire. “Dean?”

“Kiss me, Cas.”

It was like ticking off another item on his bucket list; having an intimate moment in the office. “You’re quite aware of what happens after we kiss each other, right?” Castiel’s eyes widened. “We can never just kiss.”

“Then let’s try hard to restrain ourselves,” Dean captured Castiel’s shoulders in his grasp and tugged him in. “Come here, I want to feel you inside your work attire. Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in long sleeves and tailored pants?”

“You know, you’re going to drive me—” Castiel squeaked when Dean planted a soft kiss onto his parted lips. Just like that, in mid-sentence, forcing his mind to turn upside down from the taste of warmth and comfort and bliss.

The two of them gazed into each other’s eyes, their chests heaving and then Castiel remembered how Dean accomplished the most unfair teasing the day prior; tying him to a chair. And in that moment, he wanted payback desperately, to observe the light in those green eyes turn into wide pools of electricity.

So, he did that one bold thing that immediately unearthed a loud moan from Dean’s lips; cupping between the Prince’s legs and pressing him into the wall with a firm grip on Dean’s right shoulder.

The effect was grand; as Dean gasped and all of his words to follow were silenced when Castiel pressed a palm to his parted lips. He took control and he was savoring the rush and damn it felt so glorifying.

Dean fought back though, oh, he most certainly did; grabbing onto Castiel’s hand between his legs that wouldn’t comply from sparing him the torment. Those damn fingers were relentless, tracing his cock through his faded blue jeans upwards and then…

Castiel slipped his hand inside of Dean’s pants smoothly all the while directing his clear intent through the meeting of their eyes, delivering a message that caused the younger man to lose self-control immediately from the fire sparking behind blue orbs.

“Do you know what I dreamt of last night, Dean?” Castiel’s voice was hoarse, and he teased with his thumb until the other man was panting for air. “Of you…” he removed his palm from Dean’s mouth and rested their foreheads together, “inside of me. Hot and hard and making love to me until I cried out your name over and over again.”

“Cas…” Dean’s lips quivered when their hips grinded together and although he fought to kiss him, Castiel firmly kept a hand on his chest, forcing four inches between their mouths. “Kiss me, please,” he begged, “I want to…”

But the torment continued inside his pants, until Dean was so close, he bit his lips and prayed to the heavens that he wouldn’t have to stiffly walk out of the building, pants wet and ashamed. And just when he felt like he was losing control, Dean spun their positions in reverse and flattened Castiel onto the wall just near his bookcase.

“Feel me,” he whispered into the other man’s ear, grazing his teeth behind Castiel’s neck. Dean fitted his cock through the harsh fabric of denim between Castiel’s ass and every single time he grinded their bodies together, the other man moaned into the wall. “Because when I finally have you, you’ll become hoarse from screaming my name. I can guarantee you that.”

“Then take me,” Castiel pleaded, reaching behind him and taking a hold of Dean’s hips, pulling him closer. “What are you waiting for.”

Dean wanted to bite Castiel’s neck so badly, to claim him over and over again. But he wasn’t going to leave marks that would be too inappropriate in the office. Not now, not when Castiel was just transferred over and needed to build a reputation that wasn’t tainted. But he was tempted to have him right there and then because of the torment, and the boldness and the fire in Castiel’s eyes.

“Not here,” Dean said, completely thirsty and hungry to taste every inch of Castiel. “Now back to work,” he stepped away slowly and awaited their eyes to meet.

Immediately though, Castiel turned to stare at him, the amount of desire building up inside those blue orbs was quite grand and tempting. Chest heaving, he appeared like a wild savage, hair disheveled and white long-sleeved shirt crumpled in the front and his tie knot was as always turned the wrong way purposely. And taking tentative steps towards Dean, Castiel felt the sexual tension between the two of them.

“Don’t,” Dean chuckled nervously, keeping an even distance between them. “I want our first…time to happen at least on a bed with soft sheets, where I can take my time with you. Without forcing myself on you I want…”

“I’m so turned on right now,” Castiel’s voice was barely audible beneath the rumble of noise inside The Hub. “I don’t think I can proofread those articles. And this is all your fault, you handsome…assbutt.”

Dean’s laughter was so musical, low and contained inside his throat. “Ass reference so not helping right now, love. I’ll be downstairs at five. Cheers then.” And with a small wave, the Prince ducked into The Hub.

Immediately the whispers died down, tapping on the typewriters faded and the only sound escaping through Castiel’s cracked door contained the rumble of vehicles down on the street honking their horns.

Castiel, as flustered as ever, faintly alighted on the edge of the desk and stared longingly at the place just by the bookcase where not so long ago, Dean successfully managed to pin him like a remarkable specimen on the wall.

The distinct scent of lavender and sandalwood lingered on Castiel’s neck and throughout the rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t quite concentrate on proofreading the articles. But by three o’clock, Daphne Hatchett came into his office in the likes of a headmistress, bifocals perched on the tip of her nose and equipped with an abundance of sass.

“Almost done,” Castiel’s narrowed eyes scanned the last paragraph. “Two more to go.”

“Distracted, are we?” his boss caramel colored skirt suit didn’t reveal not a single crease. She smirked at him. “Your lunch mate caused quite a stir.”

“Believe me, the commotion out there didn’t go unnoticed,” he spied the glitter of mischief in those brown eyes and sighed. Castiel sat back, entirely defeated, “go on,” he said dramatically, “ask away since the question is burning holes in your bifocals.”

“I have no need to pry,” Mrs. Hatchett came closer and rested a neat stack of files upon his desk, offering a small smile. “But is it true that you were fortunate enough to snag the richest man in the world?”

“Not the richest in the world,” he corrected her, pushing back his chair and reaching for the knob on the heater. Castiel cranked it up a little and rubbed his hands together. “That’s Bill Gates, of course most of his wealth was obviously funded by extra-terrestrials…” their eyes met and he narrowed his pair.

“You are a work of art, Castiel. Now answer the bloody question.” Her clipped tone could have been considered as snarky to many others, but those who were familiar with the abundance of good intentions behind the façade were never quick to pass judgment.

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

“I’ll catch you,” Mrs. Hatchett pointed her finger accusingly, “believe me, I will. I smell a rat and it will only be time before the carcass is revealed. And when I find it, Castiel,” collecting the files, she moved to the door, “you’ll owe me all the information you have on Bill Gates working for E.T.”

When she departed, Castiel sunk into his chair and painstakingly pushed through the articles whilst glaring at the clock. He kept willing the time to move faster with the most outright guilty intentions. And possibly, still ignorant of the truth that encompassed his undying desire to touch and to be kissed because he craved Dean like an alcoholic.

How could another man taste so good, and still linger on his tongue and lips?

When his head softly hit the pillow at nights, Castiel smelled Dean on the sheets and wondered how such a thing could be possible. The scent of Irish Spring kept clinging to his clothes and burying itself into his pores, hugging him in a warm and sensual embrace. And most of all, the distinct shade of Dean’s green eyes was forever imprinted on the back of his eyelids, so those orbs were the first gift he fell asleep to and the last parts of his dreams when he stirred in the mornings.

By five o’clock, he practically flew down the steps, heart racing, knees jelly and feeling like a wide-eyed teenager in love. Then even before reaching for the doorknob, soft, warm and reassuring arms wrapped around him like a velvet blanket. And he instantly drowned in Dean’s arms and the familiar scents like coming home.

“Hi, handsome,” the Prince buried his face into the crook of Castiel’s shoulder, their bodies glued together.

“Hiding in the shadows? Really?” he moaned after feeling the light stubble grazing upon his neck. “Wait,” Castiel pulled away just enough to gaze into emerald, “please don’t tell me that you were waiting here since lunch.”

Dean’s handsome and playful disposition was forever warming. “A portal opened up right…here,” with Castiel still captured in his arms, he turned them slightly towards the coat rack and pointed, “and I actually spent four hours in Emma keeping Knightley company.”

“Oh, really?” blue eyes sparkled. “And might I ask what the two of you were talking about for four hours?”

“Jealous, are we?” Dean tugged Castiel into a tight embrace and softly pressed their lips together.

Then in the process of reaching for the doorknob and turning it, the two of them immediately drowned in a deep, blissful kiss that should have been stalled. But the build up of tension between them was so intense that neither could refrain from falling into the taste of each other’s mouths. And after tumbling out of the door, the flashes of cameras came in quick succession.

By the time they pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Penny from the BBC and her camera man managed to capture the scene in the most perfect shot. Whilst three other reporters stared back in awe as the rest of persons passing by on the sidewalk stopped to consider the small crowd gathering. And although Castiel was immediately braced with a sense of fright, Dean’s countenance quickly moved from stunned to cheerful.

“Busted,” he tugged Castiel closer and winked at the most famous BBC reporter, “hi, Peggy,” Dean was breathless from a rush of nervousness, “I guess you can stop bombarding me with questions about my relationship status now.”

“I was only…” Peggy laughed and the two of them smiled warmly at each other like old friends, “you know, I’m only doing my job and I do have a reputation to maintain.”

“Cheers,” folding Castiel into his side, Dean slipped them past the reporters and ducked into the backseat of the Impala after Sam hastily pushed open the door.

“Serves you right,” the younger Winchester scolded, firing up the engine and hitting the street without sparing a second. “I told you to wait in the damn car until Cas came out. Now…you two will be on the front page.”

Dean, already sensing that Castiel’s silence was weighing heavy between them, turned his gaze upon the other man’s face. Still buried into his embrace, Castiel was staring ahead with a stolid expression.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Dean lightly said. He pressed a kiss onto soft hair that smelled faintly of honey and coconuts.

Sam’s prying eyes studied his friend in the backseat and he sighed. “I think you’ve hurt his feelings.”

“Are you mad at me?” Dean tried to meet Castiel’s eyes but the latter only turned to stare out the window. Immediately, his cheerful disposition faded into a worried state as he softly caressed Castiel’s right cheek. “Hey, talk to me. Are you mad?”

“Of course, I’m mad,” feeling prickly all of a sudden, Castiel hugged himself and tugged at the elbows of his white shirt. “You…can’t just…do that.”

“Do…what?” Dean was clearly lost and Sam had enough of his brother’s ignorance on the topic.

“Dean, Cas isn’t used to being in front of the camera like the two of us. Look,” Sam sighed and turned down another street, “I can understand why he’s upset because it was the same thing with Eileen. She hated having her picture taken everywhere we went and she hated it even more when we were kissing and a thunderstorm suddenly rained on us with flashes from cameras all over. Cas is obviously not okay for the same reason.”

“Can you stay out of it, just for one sec?” Dean’s tone was soft though. “Cas,” cupping the other man’s cheek into his palm, he turned those blue orbs on him.

“Sam’s right,” Castiel’s gravelly voice was low. He detested when their eyes met because every part of him softened.

“But we couldn’t control it. I had no idea that they would be outside waiting on us,” Dean pleaded to be forgiven.

“It was what you implied…”

“Cas, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“It is, but we don’t need to broadcast it to the damn BBC, Dean,” Cas’ voice cracked. “It’s not okay.”

“I’m sorry then,” Dean was clearly wounded as well. “I just want the world to know that I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head. “You don’t have to prove how much you love me to anyone else but me.”

For a while, Dean simply held him, tenderly and detesting the diversion of their gaze that always seemed to soothe his fears. Then, after the car nosed its way into a parking space in front of The Cat Nap, Castiel finally detached himself from their embrace and left a bruised Dean in the depths of the car as he followed Sam inside.

“Why are you even here?” he asked the moment they were inside of what Ruby labelled as the love child of a pub and a small library. “Shouldn’t you be with Eileen?”

The taller Winchester sighed, “yeah well, her mother showed up and I know better than to intervene when she’s around. She’s very…robust,” he led the way through a café that consisted of bookcases in the walls painted a lovely peach, “and loud and demanding and she hates me.”

“But you have every right being there,” Castiel glanced behind them and felt relieved when Dean followed a couple paces behind.

“I’m just here until tomorrow midday then I’ll travel back. Initially I came here to grab a few things Eileen asked for so I’m off tomorrow. This place,” Sam gestured around them as he climbed a flight of stairs that led into a top level, “is where Dean and I have been coming since we were kids. Well mostly me whilst Dean hit on every girl downstairs.”

“Did not,” the older Winchester grumbled from behind them. He couldn’t help himself, reaching for Castiel’s hand and entwining their fingers whilst they climbed the steps. “Believe it or not, I was actually talking about books only without the flirting.”

Sam gestured at a round table surrounded by comfortable cushioned seats, “that’s like trying to convince me that you’re not obsessed with Austen.”

Castiel’s seat gave him a direct view of the café below with a horseshoe counter covered in black vinyl. The waitress behind the counter was carefully fixing a coffee machine and the cash register was one of those older models, giving the place an immediately classic look from the early seventies. Coupled with the small booths and older folks plucking books off of shelves whilst slurping up pink smoothies; it was almost like a scene from The Frosty Palace in Grease mixed with a slice of book nerd heaven.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said to Castiel after Sam got up to take a call by the window. “And you’re right. Of course, you’re right. I shouldn’t have to prove what we are to anyone but you.”

Castiel lifted their entwined fingers up onto the heels of their palms on the table and studied the connection. The meeting of hands was enough to create a light flutter inside of his chest. “It was all so sudden. Was it the same with all of your exes?”

Dean’s silence perhaps ended up delivering a sense of uncertainty but when Castiel looked at him, he detected nothing but humor. In fact, Dean was smiling as if there was a joke swirling around inside of that beautiful mind of his. And the more Castiel pondered on the origin of the amused expression, he was so sure that only a mischievous thought could bring about that look.

“Dean, why are you looking at me like I’m the funniest thing you’ve ever seen?”

The Prince snorted, glanced away and his body shook from trying to contain a bout of giggles. “Yeah, it was the same with all of my exes.”

“Why are you laughing?” Castiel’s smile coupled with a flushed face. “Dean! What is it?”

“Bobbing for apples,” Dean’s burst of laughter sent him rocking back on the chair, eyes running water.

“What?” Castiel realized that the other man’s humor was so contagious, he started chuckling too.

“I can’t forget your face...It was so…When I tied you to the chair, remember? You kept trying to…” Dabbing at the corners of his eyes, Dean admired the narrowed blue eyes and he sighed. “Ah, good times.”

“You know what?” Folding his arms, Castiel turned away, biting in his laughter, “don’t talk to me Dean Winchester. I will make you pay like I promised. I swear I will.”

After Sam returned to the table bearing smoothies of pink and blue shades, he studied their countenances and offered up a bitch face.

“Really? What did you do? Play with each other under the table? You’re both red and obviously awkward as hell.”

“This is the part where you shut up about it,” Dean tried to warn in a serious tone but after glancing at Castiel, he bit his lips and looked away quickly as if entirely satisfied.

Sam, however, wasn’t going to let it go because it wasn’t in his nature to refrain from teasing his brother. But then after considering Castiel’s obviously ashamed expression, he faltered and detested a discussion that might possibly make the other man severely uncomfortable.

“Alright, so get this,” clearing his throat, he swirled the pink and white straw around in the smoothie and avoided making eye contact with either of them, “you two have no idea how terrified I am right now about being a dad. Like suppose I screw this up big time?”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Dean frowned, immediately falling into big brother mode. Like he told Castiel earlier in the day, his brother happened to be the best candidate for a father.

“She’s so…tiny,” Sam measured a little over twelve inches between his big palms. “And I’ve read a ton of books and looked at a ton of videos but nothing compares to actually holding this soft, precious life in your hand, you know? Eileen’s mother is a natural with Salena whilst I’m just so awkward and maybe that’s why I wanted to come away for a while because I’m just so scared that I’ll do something wrong or—”

“Sam, listen to me,” Dean rested a reassuring hand on his brother’s back, “you’ve got this.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re the one who looked after me since I was a baby. At least you know plenty about changing diapers and burping and…you’re a natural with kids.”

Castiel’s heart was melting from the younger Winchester’s disbelief in his ability to tend to his baby. When he considered the two brothers across the table, he detected nothing but honesty and love and it was something that he related to with his own brothers but between Sam and Dean, there was something more; something, perhaps deeper than he would ever understand.

“I watched my brothers tend to our sister when she was born,” he contributed in a soft tone, swirling around the crushed ice in the glass. “My mother suffered from post-partum depression so naturally we were left to look after a newborn baby. But the one thing we always survived on was knowing that she relied on us to do whatever it took to keep her safe. I guess, you should look at this in the same light. Salena relies on you to do what it takes to ensure that she’s happy.”

“Cas is right,” Dean’s heart melted when he listened to the other man pour out his thoughts on the matter. Their eyes met in a softened look. “All the baby needs you to give her is love. It’s not about changing pampers or burping. It’s just about doing what makes her happy.”

Sometimes Castiel would simply astound him with the depth of his experiences in life. He couldn’t wait to know more, thirsty for what was to come and everything else between them. And the more he thought about it, Dean couldn’t find anything else worth living for than to learn everything about Castiel in due time because he was amazing and soft and caring and beautiful.

“I guess you’re right,” Sam sighed, feeling a little better, “which makes me so sure now that the two of you will be the best choices for her god parents.”

“Wait, what?” Dean stared back, smiling in awe and Castiel’s heart swelled from joy. “Are you sure? What about Forrester and Andrea?” They were two of his brother’s best friends since primary school.

“Dean, you can’t be serious right now,” Sam turned to offer his brother a confused look. “Do you really think that after you’ve been like a dad to me since I was born, I’d trust anyone else? If anything happens to me and Eileen, I want you and Cas to take care of Salena. And we plan to have two more so gear up to be their god parents too.”

“He’s going to make a damn football team,” Dean told Castiel, shaking his head.

“Well, I guess when you have the finances to tend to as many kids as you would like, it’s understandable. There’s nothing wrong with putting together a football team. And thank you, Sam. I’m honored.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else but you. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way,” the younger Winchester eyed his brother slurping up the smoothie like a child and sighed, “I have something else to say that might come as a shock but…”

“You’re going to cut your hair,” Dean stared back with wide eyes. “And I endorse it completely.”

“No, you idiot,” whilst Castiel chuckled, Sam raked his fingers through the forever stylish locks and tossed his head back for emphasis. “The hair stays. Don’t you dare talk about the hair. Eileen would kill me if I cut it anyway. She likes something to hold onto in bed.”

Choking on a mouthful of smoothie, Dean doubled over the table, then after composing himself, he threw a glare at his brother and sighed.

“It’s just payback,” Sam said with a shrug. “Screwing your boyfriend on my turf, huh? What? You think I didn’t know? The two of you riding off into the sunset and then coming back with creases on your damn clothes? Then,” he chucked Dean’s shoulder playfully whilst Castiel concealed his face in shame, “when I went in search of you the day after, the doors were locked and there were moans coming from the walls.”

“Cas can’t help it if he’s loud,” Dean grinned, appearing quite contented with his statement.

“Hey!” Castiel warned although smiling. “Keep going and see where it gets you.”

The three of them settled into a very delightful conversation that lasted the rest of the afternoon and blossomed into a new definition of family.

Chapter Text

A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals.

JANE AUSTEN: Emma

Cas,

It’s been twenty-one days since you came back to me. Can you believe it? Yesterday I sat outside in the sun on the steps and I just felt so happy and so calm. And I’ve never felt like this for more than a week.

All my life there have been two things; highs and lows. I either climb up high or then I fall back down. But with you…

I’d like to think that you’re my equalizer. In a sense, flatlining has a new meaning to me because instead of feeling nothing like I’m dead inside, I feel everything that can ever define BLISS.

You know, the weirdest part of this is that every single day brings something new to me and it all comes from you.

I take my medication without worrying about my dreams since you came back. Because you’re all I dream about at nights. I feel you hugging me and kissing me on my face, my neck, my knuckles. I can always feel you with me when you’re at work or when you’re in your own bed at nights.

Gone are the days when I felt so unsure of where my mind would take me. With you, I’ve taken back control because when I love you, there is nothing more powerful. It’s like you help me arm myself to fight effortlessly and without realizing it, I get up every day smiling because I have you.

I don’t think of being bipolar as a curse anymore, Cas. I don’t think of it at all. And you know what’s funny? I used to love my bed, you know, sinking into that pit of nothing and never coming up back for air for days. But now when I look at my bed, I don’t even want to be there for two reasons;

I’d rather be anywhere else with you.

I want to fall asleep in your arms.

I know I suck at writing down my feelings but when you’re at work, I have a lot of spare time on my hands. So, I’m trying to do this. Maybe I’ll start a journal, writing down my thoughts but then I’ll end up writing an entire journal about you.

Cas, you’re perfect, do you even realize that?

You have the most amazing pair of eyes, that unarm me and drown me.

Your smile is rare but effortless when I tease you or hug you.

Bed sex hair wasn’t a thing before I met you.

Your hugs, Cas, your hugs are so soft and you have no idea how much I long to feel your arms around me.

And your kisses are so innocent and pure and deep and blissful…

“…so naturally, the first thing that came to mind was switching to Samsung,” Dean sighed from the front seat of the car, “but then you know how that goes.” The chocolate color of his sunglasses became richer from the sun’s rays.

The driver nodded in agreement. “Like groping around in the dark. The OS isn’t that bad though. Just funny to get used to. What type though?”

Castiel sunk into the backseat, legs stretched out under the warm caramel colored blanket and he couldn’t help but become lost by gazing at Dean’s profile.

The letter had been written on traditional white parchment lined in gold; his customized stationery as a member of the Royal Family. And Dean’s penmanship was so exceptional, Castiel thought that the words were printed instead of written.

“J7 isn’t bad,” the driver entertained the conversation from the moment they hopped into the car at the airport, and wasn’t losing enthusiasm after two hours. “My wife has a J5. Not too bad to work with. Me? I have a S10 but when I’m working on the road, I use my Nokia. Because nobody is going to steal that from me.”

The two of them laughed and Castiel couldn’t help it. He was absolutely mushy and melting from the actuality of holding a letter between his fingers, written with so much love and honesty. The words curled his toes when he perused the lines and he had possibly read the letter about ten times since.

After they boarded the plane in England, Dean slipped the folded bit of paper into Castiel’s hand luggage with a smile. Then when the Prince fell asleep on the flight to Scotland, Castiel’s curiosity piqued and he discovered that his heart was capable of melting from love between every single line. If it was even possible to fall in love again and again with someone, then Dean continued to prove that to him.

“He’s kind of iffy about iPhones but then again, it would be nice to Facetime each other,” Dean was saying whilst Castiel leaned his head back and gazed up at the sky through his black sunglasses. “I’d bother him every single chance I got if we both have Facetime. Cas would get so annoyed.”

Dean hadn’t the faintest idea that his boyfriend was wide awake because the tint on the sunglasses provided nothing but blackness whereas as opposed to gazing through them, Castiel was clearly able to detect the depth of the blue sky.

Vampire shields, Ruby liked to refer to them as or Spy Shades because their purpose really was to protect his eyes from UV rays, coupled with concealing his piercing gaze whilst questioning interesting persons for articles.

The car nosed its way through a winding road that offered the most beautiful rolling grasslands on either side. For most of the last hour, the sun hid behind a threatening raincloud, but after showing its yellow face again, the soft warm rays played on the caramel colored blanket. And ever so often, they moved through an abundance of trees lining both sides of the road that buried Castiel into a very nostalgic mood as he dreamt of sheltering in a cozy cottage with Dean comfortably lying in his arms as the rain pelted down on a zinc roof.

Castiel always was fascinated by Scotland because of the scenic landscapes; the majestic mountains and breathtaking lochs and castles buried between deep, lush forests. The refreshing smell of fresh grass and the rustle of the leaves from winds; all of these things suddenly experienced in reality instead of on television gave him an out-of-body experience. He couldn’t wait to cast his eyes on another one of Dean’s castles situated in the Scottish Highlands and nestled next to Loch Laggan.

The mountains were so beautiful, Castiel couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from following the peaks along the way and he was entirely amazed by the serenity of the journey. They stopped once at a small gas station and after Dean left to use the washroom, Castiel stood outside facing the highlands and he became lost in the expansive beauty of nature unfolding in all its glory.

“Do you fancy a square of chocolate?” Dean appeared smiling by his side. Wearing a black ACDC tank and faded blue jeans, coupled with a pair of chocolate brown Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses that probably cost a fortune, he appeared even more handsome. “Here, open your mouth.”

“You’re lucky that I’m too tired to provide a sex reference,” Castiel parted his lips and hummed when the other man slipped the square of chocolate into his mouth. When Dean’s thumb softly caressed his bottom lip, Castiel’s eyes fluttered close.

“The things you do to me…”

“Me?” Castiel collected Dean’s curled fingers into his own and pulled him close. “What about the things that you do to me? Hmm? The letter? Killing me softly with your words?”

Dean chuckled and snaked his arms around Castiel’s hips. Tugging him in and pressing their lips together, the moment was so perfect, surrounded by the beauty of nature, mountains in the distance, and peacefulness.

“Do it again,” Castiel’s gravelly voice filled the inch of distance between them as he held on to Dean and didn’t want to let to. “Kiss me with your chocolate lips.”

Giving in, Dean initiated a deep, searching kiss that contained all the love in the world he could offer. Just in the moment though, there was nothing else that mattered except the man in his arms. And he kissed him with as much passion and patience whilst Castiel moaned and clung to him like the world was ending.

For the remainder of the journey, Dean welcomed the backseat because it meant that he really could wrap the only person who meant the world to him so close to his heart. The two of them savored the embrace and whilst Castiel buried his face into the Prince’s chest, his short nap entertained the soft scent of Irish Spring and sandalwood and everything was so perfect. All of it; the softness, the protective arms wrapped around him, the rolling scenes and gathering thunderstorm, and when lightning streaked the sky, Castiel never felt so close to Heaven like he ever did before.

Dean kept pressing soft kisses onto his forehead, occasionally playing those reassuring fingers through Castiel’s hair like soft tunes on a piano. Then gradually the warmth built up between them, like any other moment when their bodies were glued together. And because Castiel’s proximity allowed him to settle his hand on Dean’s thighs, he playfully sought out the bulge in the Prince’s pants.

Touching Dean through the dark denim was perhaps a kind of thrilling feeling that sparked up a fire inside of Castiel he shouldn’t have ignited. And naturally, what followed was the inevitable soft moan from Dean as he shifted uncomfortably and squeezed Castiel in his embrace. It was like desiring so much more and because of sitting in the backseat of a car with the anticipation of prying eyes settling on them, the feeling of ecstasy kept climbing to a crescendo.

“Cas, don’t,” Dean whispered into the other man’s ear. He entwined their fingers and drew Castiel’s bold hand up to his lips. “Soon, we will have all the privacy we need.”

“That’s what you told me a week ago when we returned from Hampshire. Now,” Castiel’s hushed tone flushed Dean’s neck with warmth, “we’re all the way in Scotland and still I keep hearing you say the same damn thing. You’re purposely dragging this out, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Dean chuckled, leaned his head back and those green eyes fluttered close. “Because when we start, I don’t think we will ever want to stop.”

“Is it that good?”

Dean’s chest shook from soft laughter. “You should ask, if I’m that good. And the answer is absolutely yes.”

“Overly confident, are you?” Castiel laughed, playing with the collar of the black tank. “Dean, exactly how many castles do you own?”

The car stalled as wrought iron gates pulled away and then they crawled down a long road that was bordered by tall trees.

“Two castles, a manor in France and two cottages; one in Italy and the other in Wales. The one in Paris is more like a museum though but the upstairs has an apartment.”

“Can you take me to all of them?” Castiel splayed their fingers and studied them.

Dean softly pressed a kiss onto the other man’s left temple. “Of course, I will, love. And we will make love in all of them.” The last bit he whispered as the looming castle came into view in the distance.

At first, Castiel wasn’t certain whether he was still drowning in a dream or facing reality because the traditional beauty of the architecture between the trees was simply breathtaking.

It was like opening a Disney book and coming across a photo of a fairytale-like castle that contained so much splendor, there was no way a place like that could exist in reality. But it really did and as Castiel stumbled out of the car and gazed up at the tall grey towers constructed from stone with triangular roofs clustered together, the glass windows and the absolutely gorgeous trees blanketing the castle, he had no words. None at all, after realizing that they were a stone’s throw away from the loch and through the trees, he could detect the darkened mountains and the rustle of leaves was heavenly.

“Northampton or here?” Dean admired the amazement in the other man’s disposition whilst he collected the bags from the trunk of the car.

“Hmm?” Castiel continued to crane his neck, wondering how tall were the towers.

“Where would you prefer to live? I want to give you one as a gift, but I’m not sure which one you’d prefer so –”

“Dean, no,” widened blue eyes stared back in disbelief. Hands falling to his sides, Castiel literally felt as if his chest would explode. “You simply can’t.”

“Why?” the Prince frowned and closed the distance between the two of them. Burt, the taxi drive, had drifted off towards the kitchen at the back of the castle. “I thought you like castles.”

“But you just can’t…give me one,” Castiel collected two bags from the other man and still couldn’t breathe properly. “This is beyond priceless. I would feel so guilty…so…unworthy.”

“Stop it,” Dean shook his head as he led the way, gravel crunching under their boots. “You’re priceless to me and no matter how many things I give you, I don’t think I can ever repay you. It would be a pre-wedding gift.”

Castiel stopped walking and immediately felt faint, he almost dropped the bags. “Dean, are you…” when the Prince stopped and smiled back in all sincerity, blue eyes remained as wide as saucers. “Are you proposing to me?”

The wind lifted the sideswept strands on Dean’s forehead and he sighed. “Soon enough. Although, I’m not sure how or when to do it. So, you’ll have to be patient with me. But I already have the ring and everything.” Offering a lopsided smile, he turned and started to walk towards the castle.

“Dean, are you serious?” Castiel chased after him, weak in the knees. “Or are you fucking with me? Hey! Look at me!” catching up after jogging without taking full breaths, he bumped shoulders with the other man and kept continuously gazing at Dean’s blushing countenance, obviously revealing that he was absolutely serious. “Dean…”

“Cas…”

They approached the double doors that were immediately pulled open to reveal a finely dressed older man who distinctly reminded Castiel of an FBI agent offering nothing but professional and curt manners. Funny enough, he appeared to be out of place, almost as if he was on a mission and just from the thought, Castiel found himself smiling guiltily, wondering if James Bond wasn’t fictional after all.

“Hi, Ketch, all’s well?” Dean bumped fists with the man as if they were long time partners in crime.

“I suppose, your Royal Highness. You’ve made it just before the storm.”

“This is Castiel,” Dean introduced the two men after they stepped into the comfortable interior of the castle. “Cas, this is Arthur Ketch. He basically takes care of the place when I’m not here. Keeper of keys, that sort of thing.”

“It’s my pleasure to finally meet the man who has captured your heart,” Ketch shook hands with Castiel and smiled. “And yes, I am the keeper of this place as best as I can manage. But then all thanks must go to the rest of the staff as well. How was the trip?” This he directed at Castiel who was still contained in the misery of wondering whether Dean’s earlier statements contained any truth in them. “I take it the three hours were filled with enough enjoyable sceneries?”

“I’m still digesting it all,” Castiel offered, lingering by the door and admiring the Prince’s profile by the bottom of the winding staircase. “Are thunderstorms frequent in the area?”

“Oh, indeed. The storms come right before winter that begins as early as three days before Christmas then the snow keeps on going well past February. I hope you don’t mind heavy thunder…”

Dean immediately turned around and laughed. “He loves thunderstorms. Cas likes to sit on the window seat and watch the storm for hours if he’s allowed to.”

Ketch smiled, hands clasped and entirely thrilled. “Then brace yourself for the beauty of a storm from the topmost tower. It is nothing short of memorable.”

By the time they climbed the stairs together, Dean and Castiel were still fueled on adrenaline but the tiredness from the journey rested inside their bones. Then after the kind young man who brought up their bags left with a nod, the two of them studied each other in a deepened gaze that was uncomfortably filled with so many emotions.

In truth though, all Castiel desired was to fall onto the bed and drift into a long nap, but the actuality of being in a castle in Scotland, was too exciting to digest all at once. So, he tore his eyes away from Dean who was absolutely silent and consumed with desire, and Castiel wandered to the large window.

“Fuck,” he gasped afterwards when the view was revealed to him, and spectacular felt like an understatement.

Loch Laggan’s surface was rough from the harsh caresses of the wind, and the mountains on the other side were darkened and appeared so haunting but beautiful. The clouds darkened to a shade of grey that cast a shadowed atmosphere on the forest below the window and then a bright bolt of lightning streaked the sky just beyond the window and Castiel’s soul trembled from the glorifying sight.

“Dean, I’m dreaming, right?” he was breathless.

“When I look at you, I ask myself the same question.”

Castiel turned to let their eyes meet whilst his fingers still clipped the heavy red blinds apart. “I’m just ordinary compared to everything that you are. Do you realize how rich you are, Dean? I mean, do you really? Perhaps you’ve become accustomed to it all but for someone like me to come into your world…it’s so…” his gaze settled on the view from the topmost tower again. “It’s so unbelievable.”

Dean sighed. “Maybe to me, it just proves that I can have all these things and live my life without feeling happy at all. Money can’t buy happiness, Cas.”

“I understand. Especially to someone who just wants to find another person to love him unconditionally. Regardless of the castles and the fancy cars.”

“Cas, I’ve spent all my life waiting for you,” Dean’s voice was so soft behind him. “Twenty-nine years might not seem like a stretch but it felt like a hundred years suffering through most of it buried beneath the rubble inside of my head.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” tears filled blue orbs.

Dean’s eyes glistened from tears. “All I’ve ever wanted is someone like you who sees me for who I really am and still doesn’t run away or try to take all the gifts as if storing away the experience with the intention of making me an experiment.”

“I would never…” Castiel shook his head as his heart cracked, “…ever do that to you. Maybe you might attach the significance to my age and maturity but I don’t believe that it’s that alone. I think that what we most love about each other is just beauty in simplicity of having someone who will not let go. No matter what happens, we always find each other’s souls and love that part of us that is raw and flawed and broken and needs nurturing. I don’t need a castle, Dean,” Castiel said shaking his head slowly. “All I want is you because unlike all your exes, I fell in love with you first and not the glamor.”

“When do you think you first started to fall in love with me?” Dean drifted closer, slowly wound his arms around the other man and pulled him in close. When he felt Castiel shudder from the physical contact, Dean kissed the soft spot under the other man’s left ear.

“When we first met and you boldly checked me out for more than five minutes,” Castiel’s laughter was soft as the wind caressed his face. “I thought to myself…this idiot…has no damn shame. And what’s so interesting about me? Me. The guy who everyone ignored or stared at with nothing but humor in their eyes. And there you were, obviously finding something appealing about me and then when you gave me your number, I kind of died.”

“Biggest mistake ever, according to my uncle,” Dean chuckled whilst the wind whipped the trees outside the window and the dark sky streaked with lightning. “He said I should have taken your number instead of giving you mine.”

“My hands were shaking after you started flirting with me,” Castiel admitted, leaning onto the side of the window. “I don’t think my handwriting would have been legible.”

“I couldn’t tell that you were nervous. You looked like you hated what was happening.” Dean stared back in awe.

“Did you always flirt with men so boldly though?”

“Women, but not men. Men just…happened.”

“But you felt compelled to make the first move with me,” Castiel’s heart melted. “Thankfully, you did. Or else you’d be single and I’d be inside my apartment in New York, lonely and irritable.”

“A tragedy,” Dean sighed. “Do you know what I regret the most though? Telling you that I wish we never met and then letting you leave…two times in a row. But then everything needed to happen just the way they did for us to end up here. And when I think of it like that, I feel better knowing that love isn’t always easy, but if it’s meant to be, it happens eventually.”

“Exactly,” Castiel followed another streak of lightning and savored how their bodies fitted together.

Dean was hard in his jeans and even more defined than in the car, straining between them and although he wanted nothing more than to rip their clothes off, he paced himself. Going fast would never lead to a favorable outcome, but when they moved at a slow pace, everything happened beautifully. And Dean felt so comfortable with his arms wrapped around the other man, whilst the sky ripened to burst forth with rains that would probably last well onto the next day.

Castiel melted from the feel of the Prince’s lips on his skin, tasting and searching. And when the thunder rocked the skies above them, he suddenly felt so warm and alive and there was nothing that could prevent him from turning into Dean’s embrace, and pressing their lips together in a kiss that eventually spiraled into a deep and slow and passionate journey.

The darkened tones of the room shadowed the contours on their bodies as the black tank and pale blue shirt littered the red carpet. Their gazes were bold and searching and their chests heaved uncontrollably from the anticipation of the moment. Then whilst the two of them fumbled with belt buckles and zips, their kisses and bites became fueled with the kind of passion that had been building up from the week, and since their last encounter in Hampshire.

Castiel wasn’t prepared for the feel of Dean’s skin on his own; the fire escaping from their pores and the muscles that rippled beneath Dean’s arms, all of it caused him to lose his mind. It was the kind of electric feeling that he never experienced before, knowing that when Dean’s teeth grazed over his right shoulder, they were almost naked everywhere else. And just the realization of arriving at that moment when they would be fully captured in the moment, Castiel didn’t hesitate.

He collected Dean’s hands that were raking pathways through his hair whilst they kissed and Castiel guided the other man’s fingers towards the waistband of his boxers. From there, of course Dean took control, gently, although their bodies trembled from the many fires burning inside, warming them from the cold winds that gushed through the windows and flapped the blinds wildly. And after the two of them were naked and feeling nothing close to nervousness or being self-conscious of their bodies, Dean did the one thing that took Castiel’s breath away.

Stepping back and perhaps putting at least two feet of distance between them, he still kept their fingers entwined but Dean didn’t hold back on drinking in every inch of Castiel’s body. From the other man’s disheveled hair to the rise and fall of his chest, and then settling on how turned on Castiel was below the waist; Dean’s lips parted.

He led Castiel to the soft King-sized bed covered in sheets of differing tones of caramel and then afterwards, well there wasn’t any coaxing required. Castiel crawled over Dean’s form and he hungrily went in search of a passionate kiss that settled him on top.

It was the kind of kiss that he was willing to take all of what was given, going in over and over again as if trying to find Dean’s soul. Tasting chocolates and warmth in between small gasps and when their eyes did meet, Dean gazed up at Castiel like he was willing to open up his mind, body and soul no matter the costs. And that is exactly what was accomplished in their first full round of love making.

From the time Dean handed Castiel the small bottle of lube, the other man took over, compelled to give in to the passion consuming their bodies. It was like Castiel tapped into a part of him that had always been lingering there since the first time they met.

The curiosity long ago replaced the anxiousness of making love to a man for the first time, because Castiel discovered that everything he desired Dean to do to him, the reverse was no different.

Dean wanted him in so many ways, practically begged Castiel after the thunder kept rolling outside the castle. Although inexperienced, he just wanted them to unravel each other in every possible imaginable way. Castiel craved that kind of love, and the ability to pour out all his feelings into the heat between them. And when they were finally connected in the most intimate way, the two of them stared at each other, eyes wide and lips parted, gasping for air and chests exploding from coming together.

“Keep…looking at me,” Dean could barely push out his words when Castiel moved inside of him, slow and hot and hard. “I want to…remember your…eyes.”

Collecting Dean’s hands and pinning them above his head on the soft pillow, Castiel fought to breathe. His chest heaved uncontrollably from the intensity of delving into the unknown and realizing that the experience was proving to be absolutely outwardly. And he buried himself fully inside of Dean in one smooth thrust, unearthing a loud moan that forced the Prince to tilt his head back, body arching upwards.

The amount of times Dean cried out his name until the quality of his voice broke, Castiel lost count but he was certain of one thing though; making love during a thunderstorm contained a depth and drive that felt close to riding on a wave of ecstasy.

It was so mind-blowing, that Castiel came hard over and over again and with every thrust, he emptied himself until Dean was writhing under him. Until Castiel buried his face into Dean’s neck, breathing hard and biting into the other man’s shoulder when he kept nearing the edge.

“Cas, look at me!” Dean pleaded in a husky voice that didn’t sound like his own. Then capturing the other man’s face between his palms, he locked their eyes. And in that moment when the two of them came together, their hoarse cries were drowned underneath the crash of thunder and the heavy rainfall.

Dean’s orgasm consumed his entire body in a warm wave that was so toe curling, he had never reached that kind of crescendo in his life. It was like every part of his mind and body awakened into a new rapturous kind of elated feeling that was too powerful to contain. And every single time Castiel came inside of him, Dean followed, peeling away his layers and revealing everything that he fought to conceal to everyone else.

Afterwards, they simply held each other, Castiel still buried inside of Dean and the thunderstorm raging outside. And it was the most tragic feeling of never wanting to break that connection between them, of never wanting to pry themselves apart because when they were so intimate with each other, it was as close to reaching for a bolt of lightning and literally feeling like your entire body curled into the moment, never close to dying but almost like you were unbecoming, leaving behind the hurt and pain and welcoming the change into bliss.

Dean slept into the late afternoon and although Castiel didn’t want to leave him to wake up alone in bed, his curiosity piqued, and just like Nancy Drew, he slipped out of the room and did an abundance of sleuthing on his own.

None of it proved futile though. With the wealth of corridors and rooms, the weather shadowed every single corner of the castle and provided enough eerie vibes throughout his journey.

He counted twenty eight rooms on the three top floors and then after stumbling into the dining room downstairs, Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tapestry on the wall, depicting the Loch Ness monster appearing as real as ever, poking her head through the water with the high rise of mountains in the background and the sky dusted orange and pink from a beautiful sunset.

Sinking onto the window seat, Castiel couldn’t help but relive every single minute he shared with Dean in bed. The waves of pleasure, coming together over and over again, the wide gaze of green and Dean’s parted lips that trembled just as his body kept awakening. And then the echo of his name, cried out continuously…

Castiel hugged himself and wondered if he accomplished the deed to a satisfactory level. Well, at least Dean’s responses were more than adequate but as inexperienced as he was, Castiel had to admit that he surprised himself. After all, he was wrecked from nerves prior, spending many days terrified of experiencing his first time with Dean, and wondering if he would even like the feeling of making love to another man.

But now, he was so certain that there was no going back for him and when he reminisced on the time when Dean promised exactly that; that Castiel would keep craving for more and more, he chuckled to himself. Feeling warm and emptied to satisfaction was the kind of bliss that he never dreamed of and the experience was nothing compared to what he shared with his ex-wife.

How could two men reach that kind of climax if the act was considered immoral?

Nothing was immoral about loving Dean; kissing him, holding him close, making love to him. In fact, because he loved Dean so much, Castiel could finally forget all the pain in his past, so why would that even be considered as something bad.

He stopped questioning himself when the object of his heart’s desire entered the room.

Dean dragged his bare feet into the space and scrubbed those sleepy green eyes with the heels of his palms, then pouting, he joined Castiel on the window seat.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” tenderly touching the other man’s cheeks, he started to drown in the mellow pools of green that blinked slowly at him.

“Did we have sex, or did I just wake up from the best dream ever?” Dean’s voice was so hoarse as he rested his face onto the frame of the window.

Castiel actually snorted. “Well, I think the answer to your question lies in the quality of your voice.”

Immediately the truth dawned upon the other man and he settled into a wide smile that brightened his sleepy face. “Oh, Cas…”

“What?” his tone was so soft though, as Castiel lightly caressed Dean’s left cheek with cupped fingers. His skin was warm and the absence of a light stubble gave him a youthful appearance that was always even more handsome and playful to admire.

“The answers are all over your neck too,” Dean chuckled, tucking his feet under him. “And your shoulders. And your lips.”

“Must you always mark me for the world to see?” Castiel shook his head whilst smiling. “Hmm? Everyone will eventually know that you like to chew on me like I’m a gummy bear or a Twizzler or your most prized cut of steak.”

“I don’t like steak.”

“Oh, really?”

“No, I like you though. A lot. I want to devour you completely,” Dean’s eyes sparkled. “How was your first time by the way? Did you enjoy it? Because I did. Being on the receiving end never felt so good. Like ever.”

When Dean expounded on what the experience was like for him, Castiel couldn’t help but blush deeply. He reached for the other man’s hands and took them tenderly between his own. Then trying to steady his composure, because the memories were in fact, intense and beautiful, he sighed.

“It was…phenomenal.”

“You and your big words—”

“Just like your big—” biting his lips immediately to cease the tumble of words out in the open, Castiel stared as a soft blush crept across his face.

Dean’s surprise spread across his countenance like a ray of sunshine and eventually, he initiated a bout of laughter that was musical.

“I can’t believe I just said that. What is happening to me?” Castiel felt feverish all of a sudden, as if caught in the spotlight and completely embarrassed. “As I was saying, it was phenomenal and more than what I dreamed of. I want to do it over and over and over again.”

“The most amazing part was that I didn’t have to tell you what to do at all. You’re a natural. I’ll let you in on a secret,” taking Castiel’s hand, Dean pulled him up from the window seat, “I’ve never allowed another man to screw my brains out before, meaning that this is the first time I…you know.” He led Castiel to the table and pulled out a chair. “So, in a way, we both experienced something for the first time.”

Perhaps curiosity was the mood for the entire day because as they ate dinner and the storm continued outside, Castiel wondered about many things.

The roast chicken was exceptional, as was every other dish displayed in the finest ceramic bowls; steamed greens, and rice. But through it all, sitting across from Dean, he kept batting around the questions inside of his head. And eventually when their plates were cleared away and the room illuminated from the yellow glow of lamps on the walls, Castiel thought that he needed to entertain the discussion. But all hopes of having that conversation drifted away for the time being.

After Dean hurried into the steamy shower and left the door open, Castiel pawed through his bag and listened to the rumble of the thunder in the distance drawing nearer. Then it dawned upon him as he reached for Dean’s bag; that the two of them were slowly falling into a domesticated state.

There he was, leaving his own bag to carefully dig through the Prince’s own, in search of his pajamas. And when he located the soft purple fabric patterned with white unicorns, a small smile spread across his face.

“Oh, you adorable idiot,” Castiel pressed the pants and t-shirt onto the pillow, then Dean’s red toothbrush followed along with his bottles of pills, purple hairbrush imprinted with the faces of Ariel and Flounder and Sebastian and lastly, a pair of black socks.

By the time Dean hurried into the bedroom tucked into a midnight blue robe, Castiel couldn’t contain himself. Taking the other man by the shoulders and fueled by a sliver of passion that slowly warmed into a fire, he had one intention only.

“Cas, what are you…” but Dean’s words drowned into a gasp when the other man pushed him into a sitting position. Then boldly, Castiel parted the soft fabric of the robe, and fell onto his knees, their eyes never leaving each other. From there, well Dean lost his mind.

Castiel pressed soft kisses along his inner thighs like butterflies alighting, and after his mouth reached the base of Dean’s cock, he returned the favor by sucking on soft skin until the faint hint of a hickey remained. By then, the other man couldn’t help but rake his fingers through Castiel’s hair, trying to draw that beautiful mouth closer until his wish was granted. And in that moment, when Castiel took as much as he could into his mouth, Dean curled around the other man like a comma.

The hunger inside of him was dangerous though, and no matter how many times he drove Dean to the edge and swallowed, he still kept pushing. He could feel the muscles in the other man’s abdomen contract, bulging under his palms and gradually, Dean fell back onto the bed from exertion, losing his mind as Castiel latched onto him.

The release he yearned for earlier was entirely achieved and as his pores awakened, the scent of Irish Spring clung to the sheets, his robe and hung in the air long after Castiel left to take a shower.

Dean couldn’t move, chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath but failed miserably. And by the time he managed to slip into his pajamas, he had no choice but to fall back onto the bed, burying himself into the blanket and listening to the rain outside.

The next day was spent in all its glory traversing the grounds in bright yellow Wellingtons boots and warm long coats.

By midday, Castiel familiarized himself with all the bunnies in the small house behind the castle and the two of them returned to the gazebo near the loch where butterflies kissed rain droplets.

The storm hung above them though, darkening the towers and the forest but only lightly did it rain. And whilst Dean fed him slices of tomatoes and cucumbers, Castiel laughed heartily and never wanted the moments between them to ever end.

If it was possible, he suddenly realized why soul mates kept finding each other in every lifetime because obviously the connection was too strong to ever let go of. And if loving Dean could wrap him in a warm fuzzy feeling that continued through every second of every day and night, then Castiel didn’t want to feel anything else. Ever.

“You’re looking at me like you can literally see inside my head,” Dean’s voice shook him from daydreaming. “Is my mind more like…filled with rainbows and unicorns or roses, vines and thorns?”

“Hmm,” Castiel narrowed his eyes and attempted to penetrate green orbs. “I see…an abundance of Skittles and flowers and summer and…rainbows.”

“I have been dying to get my hands on Skittles for the longest while,” Dean sighed, legs planted on either side of the bench with the bowl of salad between them. He stabbed the prongs of the fork into a cube of carrot then a bit of chicken and fed Castiel. “I can tell that you’re aching to ask me something, so can you just get it over with?” his humor reflected all over his handsome face. “Before I kiss it out of you.”

“Then I should just continue being petulant.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean pleaded, dragging the end of the fork across the other man’s bottom lip. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I don’t like question marks between us.”

“Alright, fine,” Castiel pried the fork out of Dean’s hand and poked the salad around, avoiding eye contact. “Why did you give me that kind of control over you yesterday? In bed, I mean. You admitted that it was your first time being on the receiving end but why didn’t you just…”

A spray of rain settled on them from the wind rocking the branches of the trees next to the gazebo and the two of them brushed off the droplets from their coats and hair.

“I did it because I wanted you to know what happens and how amazing it is,” Dean replied softly after. “I couldn’t just take control of you. It’s not the way I’d ever make love to you.”

“Suppose I wanted you to take control of me,” Castiel dipped his head slowly dragged his gaze from the bowl to green orbs. “Suppose I trust you that much.”

“It’s because of that trust that I didn’t dive in without thinking. I think that sex is so much more than being reckless and blind about what is happening. To me, it’s supposed to be done the right way and with you, obviously it’s different.”

“Because I’ve never done it before?” Castiel’s intention wasn’t to sound too offended but Dean read a little too much between the question.

“No, of course not. Cas, with the other men that I slept with, it wasn’t because I fell in love with them and wanted to express all that love through sex. I went in to it and I took what I wanted and they let me,” Dean shrugged but still appeared crestfallen. “It’s not like I forced myself on them though but they wanted that kind of control. We both wanted to feel something and when it was over, there was nothing left.”

“But with me…” Castiel removed the bowl from between them and throwing his leg over the bench to mirror Dean’s position, he pulled the other man closer.

“With you,” Dean collected Castiel’s thighs and pulled them over his own so that they were even closer, the front of their jeans touching, “there is so much love. I laughed at the definition of love before I met you but now that I understand what it means, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

Castiel brushed their lips together, and their coats pooled behind them onto the bench. Dean’s arms around him felt like a shelter he did not ever want to leave. The kind of comfort between them was reassuring and beautiful and the most amazing feeling of all was never caring about anyone else spying on them or what others would say. Because all Castiel wanted was to share the love that bubbled up inside of him with the man he loved.

“Even if you begged me to take the top, I would have taken you inside of me,” Dean’s warm breath kissed Castiel’s face. “Because I want you to take all you need before I can do the same to you. Which, by the way, you don’t have no problem doing. You’re really a fast learner. And that goddamn mouth of yours…”

Castiel kissed Dean suddenly and a soft moan escaped from deep within the Prince. Both of them melted from the proximity of their bodies pressed together, Castiel’s thighs wound around Dean on the bench and gradually, the rains came. But by the time the downpour covered the Highlands in a blanket and the wind rocked the trees, bending the branches and howling around the castle, Dean tugged Castiel into a passageway leading into the back entrance, and the two of them laughed.

“Your hair has a personality of its own,” Dean tried to tame the wild strands but failed. “Did you get the sex hair from your mom or dad?”

“I have no idea. I was adopted,” Castiel said without smiling but his tone was tender.

Dean though, wasn’t quite certain if the other man was being truthful or not until he lowered himself onto the ledge of one of the large windows covering the eastern side of the passageway and noted that Castiel’s countenance remained serious.

“And now I feel crappy because I jumped to conclusions and never asked about your family before,” Dean was wounded, his heart aching. “I had no idea, Cas. I thought that you ran away from your biological parents.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Castiel caressed the other man’s face with cupped fingers. Closing the distance, he sat next to Dean on the ledge and the Prince wrapped an arm around his waist. “It’s not something that I like to talk about. But truthfully, I was adopted. Me and my four brothers; Balthazar, Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel. Our sister Anna became the only offspring from our adopted parents’ union. Naomi struggled for years to produce a child but had more than enough miscarriages. So, she decided to collect orphan boys one after the other that she could nurture into men that would continue the business. Well, at least she tried. Michael dabbled a bit in law but never stuck to it. Lucifer owns more than half of the firm and lives up to his namesake. All Gabriel cares about is gambling which he is successful in, might I add. And Anna is married to a man who owns a farm in Texas.”

“And Balthazar?” Dean could already feel the pain seeping through Castiel’s pores. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, Cas.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. He…died in a car accident ten years ago. He was actually the only one who proved to be a father more than our adopted one.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean cradled the other man’s head into his right shoulder and pressed a kiss on top of soft, wet hair. “Your life had to be so hard. No wonder you relate to Ruby so much.”

“We both spent a considerable amount of time in cruel orphanages,” Castiel said softly, listening to the rain and trying to see through the haze as the loch was blurred before them. “My mother was taken in by the nuns when she was in labor and died shortly after giving birth to me. That’s as much as I will ever know but I guess that my childhood is just a blur which suits me. The rest of my life came as more than a struggle but it was so worth it.”

“You keep telling me that I’m a warrior,” Dean held Castiel in his arms tenderly. “But you’re one too. I can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up without having at least one parent who cares about you. For me, it was always my mom. If I didn’t have her, Cas, I would have probably died or ended up in a mental asylum somewhere.”

“When I think of it, the paths we took to get here,” Castiel entwined their fingers and savored the warmth between them that chased away the bitter cold, “I don’t really hate our journeys.”

“But you’ve got to admit that you hate my father.”

“I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead…”

“He tore us apart, Cas,” Dean’s voice was strained from the painful memories. “He forced us to make the hardest choices we’ve ever had to make and still he couldn’t keep us apart in the end. I know he’s rotting somewhere deep inside hell but I hope he knows how happy I am.”

Castiel always thought that if aliens were real then perhaps spirits roamed the earth too, restless and angered. And the last thing he desired was to be haunted by the ghost of John Winchester.

Later that evening, the conversation still lingered on his mind, and as he watched Dean proudly build a pillow fort in front of the door leading out onto the tower from the bedroom upstairs, Castiel tried to ignore the wrath of John. Effortlessly the fear of an angry spirit was chased away when Dean pulled the blinds apart and kept the glass door closed because the view was stunning through trees.

The loch was visible in all its glory and through the light drizzle, Castiel detected a few blinking lights on the mountains, dark and solid in the distance. He could even hear the faint sound of bagpipes drifting through the trees and wondered who the player was. Perhaps someone nearby or more intriguing to him was whether the sounds came from across the loch.

“I’m such a big kid,” Dean plopped down onto the soft mattress and tugged the blankets around him with a wide smile. “You know, when we were younger, Sam and I had sleepovers inside each other’s rooms and we would imagine that we were somewhere far away. We read scary stories and used flashlights and sometimes we would creep around Westfordshire and it would feel like an adventure.”

“Did you two ever solve mysteries?” Castiel stretched out next to Dean and the two of them admired the lightning streaking the sky outside the glass door.

“Oh, hell yeah. The Mystery of the Woman in the Painting. The Whispers in the Walls…that turned out to be rats by the way.” Dean admired the other man laughing into his left shoulder. “The Disappearing Horse…which my father sold. The…missing cutlery…and you can stop laughing because Sam and I actually found out that the maid was stealing the knives and forks.”

Eventually, their conversation drifted into a comfortable silence and Dean pulled out his phone then the soft tunes of Helen Shapiro’s Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow filled the room.

“Of course, I will,” Castiel dove his hand under Dean’s soft blue jersey and sought out the contours he had grown to love. “Will you?”

“In every lifetime, I will find you,” Dean imitated Liam Neeson, “and I will…kiss you. Until thy is breathless and thou is well-spent after the throes of passion.” The last bit he said upon Castiel’s laughing lips.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Your British accent is quite a turn on and always has been. Keep going.”

Dean laughed, and within two seconds, his amused face loomed above Castiel who shifted under him so that their bodies fitted together comfortably. Then whilst he remained propped up on his elbows, those green eyes mellowed into a soft color. And finally, he found the balance between being completely nervous and utterly happy.

“Dear Castiel,” Dean begun, whilst the other man’s chest heaved under him, “my affections and wishes have not changed. But one word from you will silence me forever –”

“Dean—” The Prince pressed a finger to his lips and silenced the rest of the sentence.

“If, however, your feelings do end up changing, I will keep on reminding you that you’ve bewitched me, body and soul,” his heart was as light as a butterfly, “and I love,” Dean pressed their lips together softly then pulled away an inch whilst they gazed at each other, “I love you,” he went in again and captured Castiel’s bottom lip and pulled teasingly. “I love you.”

Castiel wasn’t certain though, whether the moment was too perfect or his imagination was chasing him away on a dream. But it crossed his mind before the most beautiful thing in his life happened. And when Dean pushed himself up and remained on top of Castiel, he reached for something inside of his pajama pants, and Castiel’s eyes filled with tears.

Dean swung himself off of the other man, and pulled him up, the kind of look on his face that suggested a severity of nerves although he was fighting to remain composed. And after ensuring that the two of them were settled comfortably on the blankets, with the rain beginning outside, he presented the small red velvet covered box and pried it open with trembling fingers. When Castiel covered his parted lips and stared back in awe, blue eyes widened, and the Prince inhaled deeply and smiled.

“Cas, I wish never to be parted from you from this day on. Or…I should say…night because it’s dark outside and it’s raining. And I’m talking too much, oh god,” squeezing his eyes shut, chest heaving, Dean said a silent prayer before continuing. “Uh, here goes. Cas, will you…marry me? Will you…” when their eyes met after he opened his, Dean studied the tears in blue ones and his vision clouded. “Will you be mine through all the good and bad and as long as it takes?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispered, nodding and his smile was immediate. A soft gasp escaped from his lips. “I want to marry…you. And I want to be yours.” He was crying and shaking and happy at the same time, and so was Dean who nervously plucked the beautiful gold band from the box and tenderly, he took Castiel’s left hand.

“I measured your finger when you were sleeping…”

“When was that?” Castiel’s tears leaked onto his lap when Dean slowly pushed the ring onto his finger and it ended up fitting perfectly.

“Remember that night you came over when I was having an episode?”

“Oh, right,” his laugh trembled inside of his chest. “When you covered me with the softest blanket and I woke up wondering where it came from. Dean…” capturing the other man’s face between his palms, Castiel rested their foreheads together. “I love you so much. I just want you to know that you’ve changed me in the best ways possible. And I’ll love you forever. You’ll always be my number one priority.”

“I love you too,” Dean whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks. He tasted Castiel’s lips softly at first, then the two of them couldn’t contain themselves.

They kissed each other deeply until Castiel was back on the soft blankets and Dean on top of him and then everything else happened so beautifully.

Their clothes were peeled off in the warm yellow glow from the lamps and as the rain came down in sheets outside the glass door, Dean made love to Castiel for the first time.

He was patient and slow and tender and kind and the soft sounds of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away filled the room and intermingled with their moans. The promises he made before played out just enough to take the other man’s breath away over and over again. And after he buried himself inside of Castiel, he kissed him deeply as their bodies adjusted.

The two of them moved together when the water gushed down pipes outside and the wind howled, crying out each other’s names and opening up in every possible way. Until they were exhausted and still, Castiel pleaded with Dean to have him all over again. He drove the two of them crazy, sweating as they moved as sensually as their tongues whilst kissing.

Dean kept thrusting, building up a rhythm, spending all his love inside of Castiel until he had no voice left to cry out. And when they thought that they couldn’t go another round, Castiel switched up their positions and manned the top, tightening around Dean, hot and hard inside of him.

Entwining their fingers, Dean never thought that he would ever feel the kind of climax he did in those moments. It was so powerful and rippled through his entire body as Castiel kept accommodating all of him, and riding him like he wanted to never let go. And gradually, after descending from the precipice, the two of them remained in each other’s arms and Dean weakly managed to tug the blankets around their naked bodies still hot and sweaty but shivering from the bitter cold outside.

“I feel pretty weird asking this again,” Dean cradled Castiel’s head on his chest, “but how was your first time?”

Chest still heaving, blue eyes fluttered open. “My soul is still chasing lightning and rolling after the thunder.”

Dean chuckled, stroking Castiel’s cheek with cupped fingers. He pressed a soft kiss onto the other man’s hair. “Come back down. Be here with me, okay?”

“Forever. My throat hurts when I talk.”

“That’s because you’re very vocal when we make out. I like it though. I like when you keep crying out my name. It kind of gives me motivation to go faster and faster. Hell, I’m talking too much again, aren’t I?” Dean tugged Castiel’s right hip into his left so that they could feel each other just enough below the waist. Both of them were well spent but still considerably hard and with their legs entwined, distance remained the worst enemy.

“Keep talking. Tell me anything you want,” Castiel croaked.

The downpour kept going on and on and the wind became more aggressive, ripping through the trees and cracking branches. Even the lights from the lamps flickered every so often but the most definite warmth remained inside their hearts like a small fire. And Dionne Warwick’s I Know I’ll Never Love This Way Again rested on them like a soft blanket, comforting and soothing between the silence.

“I want you to move in with me at Northampton as soon as we get back to London,” Dean said after the two of them rested their cheeks on the pillow and locked eyes. “I’ll drop you to work every day and pick you up and when I can’t do that, I’ll assign your own car and chauffeur, oh! And you have to get a security detail. At least one, no objections,” he said when Castiel started to shake his head. “The media will want to catch you so a security detail will be there to beat them off like snakes.”

“Very protective fiancé,” Castiel smiled wryly. “In less than an hour.”

“I don’t want those asses harassing you. I’ll give you one of my cars. Anyone you want. In fact, you can drive any one of the ten I have in the garage or you can ride a horse. Whichever one suits you.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s left arm affectionately and smiled warmly. “I need to buy you a ring.”

“You don’t have to worry about that and it doesn’t have to be anything expensive. You can tie a rubber band around my finger and I’d still be the happiest man alive. Oh, and we need to do a few other things –”

“Dean,” Castiel pressed a finger softly on Dean’s parted lips, “slow down. Please…don’t overthink this, you know how anxiety is one of your worst enemies. I’d hate for you to spiral up or down right now because for a while now, you’ve been doing so well. All that matters is you knowing every single second that I love you, okay?”

Trying to take measured breaths, Dean nodded. “Okay. You’re right. No panic attacks.”

“No panic attacks,” Castiel repeated, caressing the other man’s left cheek. “Now tell me one thing about you that I don’t know, and I’ll do the same in return. We’ll do that until we fall asleep.”

Green eyes sparkled. Reaching for the top of the blanket pooled around their waists, Dean tugged the soft caramel colored material up and around them. He buried their bodies underneath so that half their faces peeked out.

“My favorite color is blue,” he said chuckling lightly.

Castiel blinked in surprise. “And mine’s green. What a coincidence.”

“No way,” rubbing their noses together playfully, Dean brushed their lips together. “The movie that I’ve watched like a hundred times is The Untouchables with Kevin Costner.”

“You’re really my soul mate, aren’t you?” Castiel’s face flushed. “Mine is The Bodyguard. I absolutely love Costner.”

“What about your favorite Austen movie?”

“Hands down, Pride and Prejudice, the 2005 adaption. And yours?”

Dean shook his head. “Same although BBC’s Emma comes second. I like Jonny Lee Miller as Knightley. And then my favorite book has to be Persuasion. It’s her most underrated book which sucks because it’s the one book that Austen really touched on emotions and the angst.”

“That’s mine too and all for the same reasons. I find that Anne’s struggle was beautifully written in all honesty. But the films never did the book as much justice as I expected. Although the 2007 version came very close but I still was somewhat disappointed. Hmm, what is one thing that you’re most afraid of, Dean?”

The rain had eased down and the steady rhythm of the drops hitting the roof outside was musical and soothing.

“Losing you most of all. And then not having control of my mind, I guess?” Dean adjusted his head on the pillow and sighed. “When my father was alive, I was afraid of being sent off to war. I don’t think I could deal with the trauma. You?”

“Firstly, you don’t need to be afraid of losing me. When I make promises, I always keep them and I’ve promised you since I came back that I’d never let you go. I’ll also fight with you to help you keep control of your mind. We’ll do this together. As for what I’m most afraid of. I’d say…an alien invasion. The battle of the spaceships and earth’s low graded war weapons. Perhaps we should have been trying to reason with them for many years instead of locking them up in Area 51. I have this theory, a fantastic notion that they’ve been walking among us, studying our habits and when the time is just right…”

“They’ll strike with full blown laser beams and probe us into submitting to them,” Dean’s eyes sparkled even more and his entire countenance lit up like fairy lights. “The Men in Black are real, aren’t they, Cas.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Castiel’s blue eyes filled with intrigue. “Do you know that there was once a theory that the entire Royal Family was brainwashed and taken over by aliens?”

“I think you’re talking about Adam and John. When we get married, will you invite your brothers and your parents, Cas?”

“Definitely not my parents. Even if I don’t invite Michael and Gabriel, believe me, they will be here. Anna is Amish. She wouldn’t come at all and Lucifer is literally in his own hell, so he wouldn’t either. Did you ever sleep with Ketch?”

“Woah,” Dean snorted, blinked in disbelief and couldn’t process the question. “Where did that come from, Cas? That one hit me like the Hogwarts Express.”

“I was only wondering since he seems rather taken by you,” Castiel laughed, resting a palm onto Dean’s left cheek. “He kept checking your ass out when we first got here.”

“Well I do have a nice ass, don’t I?” Dean winked. “And no, god no. Ketch is actually Rowena’s husband.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Castiel stared back with widened eyes. “Dean, are you serious?”

“Believe it. And they are thirty five years apart but it works, honestly it does, because she’s very youthful and fiery and he is capable enough to keep her calm. Ketch is actually the same age as you are but of course he looks much older because of his deeds.”

“Dean!” Castiel scolded.

“What? I can’t. No! Cas, don’t!” the sound of his laughter filled the air as he was buried into the softness of the mattress and blankets and tickled until tears filled those green orbs.

Within an hour, the two of them were fast asleep, fingers entwined, foreheads resting together and dreaming about each other. And whilst the storm raged outside in Scotland, a light rain settled on London.

Ruby, shaking off her coat, slipped into The Cat Nap with the intention of grabbing two smoothies to take back to Meg’s apartment. As she sauntered up the counter, a very tall man with shoulder length hair lingered by the smoothie machine, with his back to her. Barely, she recognized him, and then after Sam turned around to check what his new customer wanted, their eyes locked.

“Hey!” both of them said, staring and completely speechless. It took them a full minute to regain their composure.

“Um, I’m here to actually grab two smoothies,” Ruby’s eyes shifted to find the regular cashier, tucking her hair behind an ear.

“What kind?” Sam beamed at her suddenly, wiping his hands between a red and white checkered rag. “I’m actually…working.”

“Yeah right,” Ruby laughed. “You’ve never worked a day in your life except in the kitchen and in bed.”

“I’ll have you know,” Sam collected two plastic cups and returned to the smoothie machine, “that this guy right here,” he gestured at himself proudly, “is now the official owner of the place you’re standing in. And…” he rested the cups down carefully and reached for the lids, “I’m bringing back the candy machines. They arrive next week.”

“No freaking way!” Ruby hopped onto a stool, obviously flabbergasted by the news. “That’s great! Congratulations, well, on becoming a dad too. I don’t envy you because I hate kids but you’ve got things going for you, huh?”

“Thanks a bunch, and I guess?” he handed the change over and sighed. “I miss those days though. The memories, no responsibilities, and insomnia.”

Ruby laughed, pocketed the money into her black leather jacket and shrugged. “Well, you big lug, you’re the one who ditched me. We could have been killing the streets of London on my Harley. But you had to go and get married and now you have a minion to take care of.”

“I miss the weed,” Sam admitted sheepishly, dipping his head. “And the goddamn wild parties that lasted till 5 the next morning. This place.” He swept his hands around in awe. “You remember you, me, Bugs, Dean, Larry, Rita hanging out in that corner over there?” When he gestured to the furthest window, Ruby sighed and shook her head.

“Rita’s actually married to this guy in Philly now. They own like a shitload of cars.”

“I’ve heard that too!”

Before the two of them realized it, they had spared an hour catching up and at the end, just before she had to run out, they exchanged numbers. They promised to call each other, but Ruby had to guiltily admit that she wouldn’t deliver on the promise because their lives diverted into different paths. They were both contented and coming together again would complicate things further. And maybe one day they could be friends…

Chapter Text

“What time is it starting again?”

“In ten minutes, kitten. Relax.”

Ruby settled into Meg’s arms, the two of them folded into the softness of the chair, mugs of cocoa wrapped between their fingers, and occasionally, the heater groaned.

Of course, it was a very cold Saturday in February, a light snow blanketed London and the streets were empty. But even though you could hear a pin drop outside, the abundance of cheers from Saint Anne’s Cathedral continued. And as the camera roamed the many faces, nothing but delight and contentment were registered on the Londoners’ countenances.

“It’s on!” Ruby cried as BBC started the countdown from 30 seconds. She whipped her hands in the air and danced on the couch until Meg raced into the living room.

“Is that Peggy? She looks so fat.”

“We’re here at the Saint Anne’s Cathedral in London, bringing to you the live coverage of the most significant event in history for England and the world.” Peggy’s face was rounder and her green eyes sparkling although she was obviously cold and bundled up in a deep red winter coat. “I can tell you firsthand that the atmosphere out here today, well since six this morning has been nothing but unforgettable. Thousands gather to join in the celebration of marriage between His Majesty, the King and England’s newest favorite person; Castiel Novak, who is rumored to become a Duke in the following days.”

“You know, she could be so much nicer if she would just drop the bitch attitude,” Ruby remarked with a frown. “Look at her face. It’s like trying to smile makes her look constipated as fuck.”

“All I can see are her boobs squished together and peeking over the top button of her coat,” Meg said in return and she received a shoulder jab from her girlfriend. “Ouch. You know, you should have been there for Castiel for moral support.”

Ruby sighed, entwining their fingers. “They wouldn’t let me. It’s all about strict procedures mumbo jumbo shit. I begged, went down on my knees but even Sam couldn’t interfere with the way things have to play out when a royal gets married.”

“Cas must be devastated to not have his sidekick with him.”

“He has Sam. Anyway,” Ruby cleared her throat and the abundance of emotions didn’t go unchecked by Meg, “there’s the after party which I intend to make the most of. Look! It’s Dean!”

The camera switched from Peggy, to Ruby’s contentment, and the video crawled up the stone steps behind her soft red coat, towards the entrance of the cathedral. Gathered around the opened doors were esteemed members of the Royal Family such as the Queen’s cousins and uncles and John’s brothers and their children, making their way inside as the camera breezed past them and stumbled upon a very immaculate ambiance in the confinements of the cathedral.

However, as customary as it was to cover everything relating to a royal wedding in nothing but the most traditional décor and absolute pristine settings, the air contained a kind of warmth that originated from more than a hundred people.

Sam was one of them, smartly dressed in black, a midnight blue sash imprinted with the royal crest across his chest and eagerly wringing his hands in front of the altar with a wide grin on his face.

Then following closely behind in an abundance of nerves, excitement and total doubt as was expected as normal, was no other than Castiel, dressed in a midnight blue suit, matching bowtie and a crisp white shirt, with polished black shoes. Of course, he couldn’t stop trembling in his finely polished dress shoes, because whilst the cathedral swallowed up more than one thousand people, more still kept coming through the door. And the only person that mattered the most to him hadn’t arrived as yet.

“Oh look, aunty Girth with the wide rear,” Sam bent down and whispered into Castiel’s right ear. “It is said that she can balance a cup on her ass.”

“Stop it,” Castiel bit in a smile but a deep blush crept across his face.

“I’m just trying to lighten up the mood. You’re trembling like a leaf against my arm. Did you know,” he continued with a wealth of humor, “that the people sitting in the front row aren’t supposed to wear hats? But look, it’s our two favorite cousins with what looks like bird nests on their heads. Magda and Marisa.”

Where was Dean? Was he really running late? It was now five minutes past nine. Did anything happen to him? Christ, was he having second thoughts?

Castiel kept running the doubtful questions around inside his mind like little marathon runners. And the more he entertained them, the more Sam kept on ridiculing every single member of his family until Mary’s appearance rendered everyone speechless and then it dawned upon Castiel, that maybe it was after all, common mannerism to allow her the privilege of settling in her seat before the ceremony began.

When he realized how something so simple had slipped by, Castiel felt somewhat embarrassed.

Mary was nothing but the warmest smiles and perfectly glowing as she selected her brother in the front row and nestled beside him in immediate warm laughter. She was dressed in yellow and as radiant as a ball of sunshine.

Then, of course, everything else in the cathedral settled into a calmness that reserved Castiel the right to at least comment internally on the exactitude of Saint Anne’s.

Of course, the architecture was beautifully crafted from white marble, with high boulders reaching up to possibly one hundred feet, if he could recall exactly from reading up on the place. When Dean had mentioned that the cathedral would be where they finally exchanged vows, Castiel obsessively perused any content he could find. And he wasn’t disappointed.

Saint Anne’s contained an abundance of large windows covered halfway in stained glass that remained closed due to the winter. But the heaters provided enough warmth to keep the coldness at bay, and the red cushioned pews offered nothing but comfort from the looks of the congregation’s faces. Then there was the beauty in the paintings on the ceiling a bit like Giotto if he could recall correctly from the wealth of books in Dean’s libraries.

But perhaps the most scandalous part of the entire event could be the switches made to parts of the natural order of things.

Had Castiel been a woman, no less a commoner, then Dean would arrive first along with his brother, followed by the Queen herself and then the bride along with her trail of bridesmaids and pageboys. But because Dean was brought into the royal family to break traditional expectations, he boldly argued in front of Parliament and the Prime Minister, pleading his case that he would rather be the one who goes in and meets his to groom at the altar than the other way around.

I want Cas to feel more privileged than I am about our marriage because I’m not doing him a favor, he’s doing me a favor by agreeing to marry me. So, I wouldn’t have it any other way than to meet him instead of reliving when he came to London and met me. And if any of you disagree, then we will get married somewhere else and you’ll be known as the standing parliament that deprived the future King of England his right to a wedding that he prefers.

Castiel smiled, blushed even, from the memories of when Sam played the voice note to him afterwards and every so often, he would play it over and over again, waiting on the gasps at the end from the members of Parliament who favored Dean and would never like for him to detest them in any way.

“I watched a documentary on Aliens last night. You and I need to share thoughts on the Mayans and Aztecs,” Sam said softly. “Maybe we can pay a visit to Mexico to take a look.”

“I really appreciate the efforts you’re making to dull my nervousness,” Castiel smiled. “But honestly, I don’t think I can chase the feeling away.”

“But why are you nervous? Dean has no intentions of bolting on you like he did with the others. He’s the one who chased you and I don’t think for a second that my brother would ever hurt you. And speaking of my brother,” the sound of loud cheers emanating from outside the cathedral was so phenomenal, “here he comes.”

Ruby sighed deeply and couldn’t quite voice her thoughts on wishing that she could really have been Sam’s wife. “I wonder what it feels like to be married to a King. Maybe magical.”

“I don’t think you could ever be married to a King. You’re too rebellious, my love,” Meg tugged her closer. “And besides, you can ask Clarence all about it when he ties the knot. Oh, look, horses and a golden carriage. It’s like a fairytale.”

It was exactly what Dean always dreamt of from the young age of five; a fairytale wedding containing carriages and finely dressed horses, a red carpet stretching from the outside of the cathedral to the altar. Then the lilies that gathered in bunches and attached to the head of the pews were kind of compensating for the lack of a bride’s bouquet. But nevertheless, he never entertained the idea of having a bride. And maybe that’s why every other engagement felt strained enough to chase him away.

This one though felt refreshing from the moment he climbed out of the carriage and met Adam by the first step. The midnight blue suit Dean had on perfectly matched Castiel’s attire. The two of them were great lovers of the particular shade, remembering their drama at the first Ball they ever attended and both of them choosing to wear the same color.

His brother was smiling, dressed in black just as Sam was, but rather uncomfortably, he kept adjusting the blue sash around his chest. “I hate this thing. Can I rip it off?”

“Soon,” Dean smiled ear to ear and sent a cheerful wave at the crowds gathered behind them. “Hey, listen, if I forget any part of my vows—”

“Sam or I will prompt you, you ass,” Adam clapped his brother on the back playfully. “How could you forget your damn vows? If you do, just roll on and speak from the heart. Can’t be too hard to talk about why you love your angel.”

Shifting uncomfortably in front of the church, the crowd still went wild.

“Have the two of you screwed yet? You can’t do that before marriage. Then again, I shouldn’t even ask.”

Dean offered his brother a look of utter surprise and scoffed. “Listen, you shouldn’t talk about screwing before marriage.”

“No wonder we’re not allowed to wear white.”

The two of them snorted as they ascended the stone steps covered in red carpet that dulled the sounds of their shoes.

Then and only then did Dean’s nervousness kick in like a rush of small butterflies inside of his chest. And although the distance between him and Castiel seemed like the longest stretch of red, from the moment their eyes locked, Dean stopped and stalled whilst his brother moved forward.

If there was one thing that glorified his existence was Castiel’s lack of effort to look damn good in a suit. The man could throw on anything; be it a simple jersey with faded black jeans and his pools of blue eyes would simply drown Dean no matter what the situation presented. And that was the natural order of things from the moment they latched onto a gaze.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Castiel.

“Oh my god,” Ruby whispered from in front of the television as BBC kept broadcasting live. She nudged Meg. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“They’re gazing at each other for the whole world to see,” Meg said sweetly. “How nice. Imagine the thoughts running through their heads.”

“Like, oh Cas, I want to throw you down right now and screw your brains out and Cas is probably like Dean look at you so dashing in royal blue, go figure, I’d rip your clothes off and lick you like a lollipop. Ha.” Ruby enjoyed herself enough to let out a generous laugh.

“Are you done now?” Meg eyed her with raised eyebrows. “Or do you want me to rip your clothes off?”

“Then I’ll miss the entire wedding,” Ruby playfully chucked her into the chair. “Geez, why do they mute their conversations? I would love to know what Adam is telling Dean.”

The two brothers were slowly walking up the aisle and the eldest Winchester kept whispering into Dean’s right ear, the two of them smiling.

“Dean, I hope you always wear a condom because I don’t,” Ruby mimicked Adam’s voice terribly in a deep tone. When Meg snorted, she continued. “And don’t forget, one spouse is enough. Don’t sleep around like I do because you’ll lose your dick and your crown.”

From the moment Dean stepped up into Castiel’s personal space, the signature smile he always entertained; tongue tucked between two perfect rows of teeth was broadcasted live around the world. And even though it wasn’t natural to allow the meeting of their hands before the vows, Dean gingerly reached out for Castiel’s fingers and squeezed them between his trembling ones.

“You look delectable,” he whispered through a bright smile without moving his lips. “I’d like to have you for lunch if you don’t mind.”

“And you look entirely handsome as always,” Castiel didn’t spare the cameras catching onto his words through video.

“The two of you, don’t start,” Sam nudged his best friend’s shoulder whilst Adam bit in a chuckle. “There’s only so many words I can say through my toothy smile before the world knows I’m faking it.”

“Like your orgasms?” Adam bent forward and his eyes met Sam’s whilst he was forced to follow suit in the hopes of the media never being able to pick up a word of their conversation.

“At least my loins produced a child. Yours only caused chaos,” Sam returned with equal fakeness in a swell of happiness.

“Can you two just…shut up?” Dean warned, pressing closer into Castiel’s left shoulder. “Before mom comes up here and rings our ears. I’d hate to—” the priest came forward and all mischievousness paused for the moment.

By the time the vows were aired on television, Ruby batted away the tears and allowed Meg to console her.

If there was any doubt in her mind about the outcome of Dean and Castiel’s match, every single one of those questions were thrown out the door from the depth of the words exchanged between them. The beauty was so definite and honesty so heartwarming that even Sam dabbed at his eyes and Adam, as usual, remained as stolid as always.

When Dean collected Castiel’s left hand, felt the slight tremor and slipped the gold band onto his finger, the two of them chuckled. Foreheads resting together, the King couldn’t help but dance their lips closer as the surge of desire between them welled up and their chemistry was displayed for everyone to admire. And when it was Castiel’s turn, he became so overwhelmed when he took Dean’s hand into his, tears welled up in those blue orbs.

“It’s okay,” Dean cupped the other man’s face into his right hand, “I love you, remember that, Cas.”

Slipping the gold band onto the King’s finger, Castiel swallowed and maintained their gaze. “I love you too.”

“I now pronounce you happily wedded,” the priest said, “you may –” but his words died away after the pair before his eyes sealed the deal and quite deeply too.

Dean wrapped Castiel into his arms and kissed him until the two of them were breathless and after pulling away, their minds dizzied. The air between them was nothing but bitter and cold but warm and fuzzy.

So, by the time the officially married couple descended the steps, arms wrapped around each other, the cameras were ready to capture the photo that would be up for grabs for quite a fortune. And no matter how bombarded they were by the media, Dean offered nothing but a sense of security and comfort to the man by his side.

“Well, congratulations,” Sam said, tugging his brother into a hug and then Castiel. “I know the two of you wanted this day to come since you took that walk in the gardens after I ordered you to a few months ago. Now look how fate isn’t such a bitch.”

“Thanks, bro,” Dean ruffled the youngest Winchester’s fabulous hair and Sam scowled. “First comes Adam, then comes Sam…”

“Then comes Dean,” Adam continued with a smile, “because he’s mean… Good old days, huh? The three of us all married now and I’ve got to say, Castiel, you wear royal blue like a star. And congrats, for tying our brother down finally. We thought no one could ever succeed.”

“I tried my best,” Castiel offered with a shrug, drowning into Dean’s right arm.

By the time they were bundled into the gold carriage and drawn down the streets of London by four majestic white horses, Dean’s waving game was still strong after half an hour. But Castiel, after some time, discovered that a smile was enough to display his contentment and so he continued to offer that gesture whilst the man at his side waved like crazy.

“We did it,” Dean was breathy and excited. “We finally did it, Cas.”

“Truthfully, I thought it couldn’t be accomplished because of the restrictions within the crown’s regime but nevertheless, your little speech in front of Parliament persevered.”

“Guided by your light.”

“I had nothing to do with it!” Castiel remarked in disbelief, and their eyes met. “Absolutely nothing to do with your outburst. But it was well enough managed and I admired the passion behind your words.”

The crowds went wild and never showed signs of dying down. And the one part of the procession that remained quite exhilarating was the clopping of the horses’ shoes on the road, entangling Castiel into a wild sense of living his best dream.

“Dammit, you smell so good,” Dean buried his face into the other man’s neck and moaned. “Ginger and honey and mint…is that the fruity Halls?”

“The very same. And stop entertaining thoughts of me being delectable. You wouldn’t be able to conceal your arousal inside that pair of pants,” Castiel sighed. “Heaven knows why you chose to tailor it so precise in measurements.”

“Not my fault I have a big package,” Dean collected Castiel’s hand and nudged the other man’s fingers to the front of his pants. “Feel me, love.”

“Dean,” Castiel warned through is teeth. “Don’t you dare.”

“Smile for the camera, but just enjoy the feel of what’s to come later. I’ll throw in honey and skittles if you’d like. I can just imagine how you would taste coated in honey. Shit. Now my pants is getting real tight and we have to walk into Northampton in front of the damn cameras.”

“Serves you right. Whatever am I to do with you?”

“Well, I’m your husband now,” Dean reminded Castiel with a smile, and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You can do whatever you want to me without an excuse. Especially tonight. Believe me, my stag night didn’t go so well and I need you to make me forget that awful replica of Ian Somerhalder licking my face like a puppy.”

Castiel laughed. “What?” He couldn’t quite believe what was just revealed.

“It was Sam’s idea since I’ve had a crush on Ian for ages now. I mean, he could have gone with any other guy who didn’t have buns of steel,” Dean rolled his eyes. “The guy’s ass was literally like two firm mounds of iron.”

“You touched his ass?” Castiel blinked back in humor. “I’m intrigued now.”

“He sat on my damn lap,” Dean said through his teeth as the crowds rolled by and he waved slowly, “of course I felt everything. And believe me, I’d rather have your ass on my lap than any other man sitting on me and licking me like I’m an ice cream cone. I had to sanitize my freaking face afterwards. My aftershave burns still. How can you even laugh?”

Castiel buried his face into Dean’s shoulder and tried to muffle his laughter. “Sounds better than what Ruby had planned for me.”

“What’s that?”

Oh the horror of gazing at the world through hazy lenses.

“Ruby’s idea of a stag night, was a round of strip poker, then because I’m a lightweight and I cannot hold my alcohol, she fired up a game of Tequila Tango.”

“What the hell is that, Cas?” Dean’s hand was growing weary from waving but he still continued, lacing their fingers together and continuing the gesture with a bright smile.

“Choosing any random song, we had to tango to it. Meg and I went first and failed miserably so we ended up chugging down three shots each. Then Ruby went with one of her friends, Marcia who works at the Daily Scandal with me and the two of them ended up falling down. It was quite a mess.”

“Sounds like something we should do without clothes, don’t you think?”

“Are you going to be this sexual throughout the whole journey? Might I remind you that we are in front of the cameras and although we can hide our words, our faces cannot be concealed.”

“Well then blow me, Cas, for being completely smitten and turned on by you.” Dean’s rather adorable expression as he tried to appear disappointed didn’t quite reach the BBC but Castiel pressed their lips together.

The kiss unearthed moans from both of them that were contained since the day prior. They were thirsty for each other, possibly driven crazy from the sense of touch, of knowing that as soon as the procession was over, and the afterparty well contained, then they could sneak in a heavy session of petting.

But from the moment Dean and Castiel climbed down from the carriage, they greeted and collected congratulations from an abundance of family of friends. That in itself lasted for quite some time, until the ballroom at Northampton filled with light music and Benny whopped around the spot attempting a few dance moves that were funny enough to the audience gathered.

Somewhere along the way though, Castiel was pried away from Dean’s side and enveloped in a tight hug by no other than Michael and Gabriel.

“Man, it’s been so long, baby bro, Michael here just went through a blasted divorce so coming to a wedding is kind of cliché.” Gabriel was dressed in a suit and tie, an appearance that rather much contradicted his lifestyle in Philadelphia as a high rising pimp.

“All in good faith,” Michael said stiffly, ruffling Castiel’s hair. “Look at you, glowing and all. The sex must be phenomenal, huh?”

“Not here,” Gabriel scolded, eyes darting around as he pulled his two brothers towards a window covered in heavy blue blinds. “Now,” after they were out of earshot and remarkably returned to good spirits, he sighed, “tell us all the little details about how your first time was.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and pleaded with Michael. “It was…as it should be. Mind-blowing. How was the trip to London?”

“Eventful!” Gabriel stared at his older brother and then at Castiel. “Can you believe that they don’t serve alcohol in second class?”

“He made quite a scene the entire flight, demanding that they move him to first class because he was Tom Cruise’s lost son. And before you complain, we had no intention of embarrassing you. None at all, but we had to make the trip worthwhile.”

“Cas, the women in London are easy catches,” Gabriel’s animated personality never dulled. “I might be able to snag a few before leaving, do you mind?”

“You’ve never had to ask my permission before,” Castiel frowned. “So why ask now?”

Both of his brothers suddenly zipped their lips and resumed smiling widely at someone approaching behind Castiel. And apparently, he always managed to find himself in a situation where Dean’s presence was felt before he was seen.

Turning around, Castiel’s heart sighed from the other man’s warming appearance. The two of them reached for each other’s hands and entwined their fingers. And his brothers merely returned smiles of admiration, setting eyes on the newly wed couple for the first time.

“Dean, these are my two brothers; Gabriel,” he gestured at the shorter and lively one, “and Michael,” who offered up his hand quickly.

“Wait, do we have to curtsy or can we shake on it?” Gabriel eyed Dean with nothing but good humor.

“Anything you feel comfortable with. It’s nice to finally meet you two. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Jesus, the British accent makes you a million times more appealing,” Gabriel extended his arms and moved in for a hug. “bring it in, your Highness. I’m a hugger. The only time I curtsy is after I’ve given a blowjob. Which is often, by the way.”

Castiel shook his head in shame and sighed. This was going a long stretch. Exposing the extremities of his crazy family to the likes of a very respectful and polite Dean Winchester. But nevertheless, the King offered nothing but an honest appearance of admiration and fascination in his two brothers.

Dean hugged both Michael and Gabriel with equal warmth and afterwards, he entertained the conversation by asking about their flight and their reservations at the finest hotel in London; which he secretly booked without consulting Castiel. Now though, after Michael and Gabriel realized that Dean was the one who settled them into a room that was fit for a president, they lamented on how grand it was to be so appreciated.

“Think we can get a grand tour of your castle some time?” Gabriel looped his arm around Castiel and beamed at the King. “I’m guessing either you or Ocean Eyes can show us around.”

“I don’t see a problem with that at all,” Dean said softly, “since you’ll be here for the remainder of the week, I hope that you can come over every day to spend time with Cas.”

“Just one question,” Gabriel seemed to dominate the conversation above Michael. He pointed at Dean with a rather mischievous look. “Knight Rider or Walker Texas Ranger?”

The King’s smile widened miraculously and he chuckled. “That’s like asking me to choose between my right or left hand to amputate! I think that I’ve watched each one obsessively and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Norris can fight the fight whilst the Hoff has the style. What about you?”

“I like you,” Gabriel nodded at his brother and sent Castiel a wonderful look of admiration. “Baby bro, you’ve snagged a good one here. Only the best can never choose between Norris or Hasselhoff.”

“In case you didn’t notice already,” Michael said, finally joining in, “I’m more of a silent observer. Whilst Gabe will pry apart your intentions with a fine teeth comb, I’ll give you a wide scope to work with. And so far, you’re more than sufficient. If my brother here,” he gestured at Castiel who was staring at Gabriel in disbelief, “choose you to be his husband, then we will both accept it with nothing but congratulations and best wishes.”

“Luci and Anna on the other hand, coupled with mom and dad…” Gabriel sighed, “you might never meet them. Which is a good thing. Cas can always get a free ride with us when he wants which is –”

“Cassie Cas!” Ruby came rushing towards them like a fireball, dressed in a beautiful long-sleeved peach colored blouse with flowing black pants. As usual, her appearance was breathtaking to her best friend.

Gabriel, along with Michael admired the greeting by the two approaching women and blinked back their satisfaction. Then after Meg planted a firm kiss on Ruby’s lips, the two of them exchanged looks and sighed.

“Could still try,” Gabriel shrugged.

Michael glared back. “No.”

After the five of them ended up in a generous conversation focused on many topics that flowed effortlessly, the rest of the room entertained themselves with the abundance of drinks and food. And no matter how distracting everything around them proved to be, there was one thing that kept bringing them back together over and over again.

Dean couldn’t stop gazing at Castiel, every chance he was allowed to. Locking their eyes and holding on even for a brief few seconds before rendering the other man speechless or lost on his words whilst talking. The magnitude of their connection was so astounding, Gabriel nudged Michael after witnessing and spared nothing but awe.

“I mean, most of all the organ music sucked ass,” Ruby was saying to the two brothers whilst Meg hooked Dean’s arm and nestled next to Castiel. “It made the wedding seem like a scene from a scary movie. And the priest looked so constipated, how old is he? Like a hundred?”

“Ninety, if you can believe that,” Sam butted in, wide smile, hands behind his back. “Hi, all. Introductions were already made,” he fist bumped Gabriel and saluted Michael. “Now if I can steal my brother away from just a little…”

Tugging Dean gleefully towards another crowd of people gathered across the room, the King looked back at Castiel and pleaded to be rescued. From the looks of the assortment of people they joined, the haughty demeanor of their mother’s sister stood out like a cold sore.

“You know, if looks could make you pregnant, you’d be carrying Dean’s baby, Cas,” Gabe said boldly, snatching a fluke of champagne. “Which reminds me, are you more of a giver or taker?”

“Gabe, you’re getting on my last nerves,” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Can you at least control your comments around here? I’m not saying that you can’t be you, but lower your damn voice at least. This is England. It’s not the southside of Philly.”

“Touchy touchy,” his brother’s humor never dulled. “Definitely a taker. Dean is easy on the eyes. Caring is sharing, bro. I just—”

When Castiel blinked and suddenly walked away, the message was delivered quite successfully that he had endured enough of shame for one evening. He joined Dean afterwards, the other man relieved for the company and immediately tugging Castiel into his right side.

“Aunt Sicily, I’d like you to meet my husband,” Dean’s voice was breathless from finally being able to introduce Castiel with the most deserving title. “Cas, this is my mother’s oldest sister from Spain.”

Sam snorted but concealed it well behind a glass of champagne.

“Eldest,” the tall, big boned woman with sharp features quite unlike Mary haughtily replied. “Will you never learn to think before you speak, Dean? And it’s wonderful to meet you Castiel. Although I would have rather a woman standing at my nephew’s side.”

Dean squeezed Castiel closer to him, and pressed his lips together into a thin line.

Sam, of course, was a little tipsy already and foaming at the mouth. “That’s the same thing John said for years when he talked about you and uncle Tom.”

The silence that followed was golden, light instead of heavy and welcomed with a daunting smile on Sicily’s face and a rather unfortunate snicker from their cousins. As unwelcoming as a few of Dean’s family proved to be in terms of the match, a few of them were rather much thrilled. To say the least, not everyone accepted that two men could marry and find love, especially in the world’s most admired and long-lasting institution.

Afterwards Dean and Castiel had to practically pull Sam away from embarrassing himself a lot more, and the three of them headed towards the front of the room where Mary was beaming. Apparently, she was boosting up her second son’s marriage with as much happiness as possible to anyone who would listen.

“Castiel,” her warm hug was so soft when he went into the Queen’s arms. “You’re officially my son because son-in-law seems so extensive. How does the husband title feel now? Wonderful, I suppose?”

“I’ve used it two times so far,” Castiel admitted, smiling softly at Dean, “and my heart just melts every time.”

“It gets boring after a while,” she warned with a laugh. “So enjoy it for today. Sam, are you drunk?” Mary considered her youngest with nothing but mild fascination. “Whatever must I do with you? You’re such a lightweight. Excuse me, you two,” taking Sam by the arm, she tugged him away.

For just a moment, blue eyes met green ones and something mischievous swirled around the latter pair. Then after throwing a glance behind them, Dean swept his arm around Castiel and the newly married couple ducked out of the party.

Perhaps the most thrilling part of escaping was the rapturous mood of feeling like two teenagers. They passed along a shadowed hall, under a bust of a unicorn and then chuckling like two kids, Dean suddenly pulled Castiel behind a heavy red blind just by a window that was locked to seal out the coldness of the winter. And almost instantaneously, he backed his husband into the wall with fire dancing behind green eyes.

“Mr. Winchester,” Dean rubbed their noses together, the air quite electric between them. Pressing their lips together softly, he unearthed a moan from Castiel that was low and soulful.

He tasted like champagne, cheese scones and mint and every single time they kissed, the beautiful connection of honesty and pureness succeeded in drawing both of them in. If possible, it was like kissing each other for the first time. Castiel always managed to lace Dean’s mind with a kind of feeling that covered his entire body in a warm sensation that curled his toes. And no matter how many times they came together in the most intimate way, Castiel tasted tantalizing and beautiful.

“I dare say, with a ring on my finger now, I feel on top of the world.”

Dean chuckled, resting their foreheads together. A light snow began to drift onto the window’s ledge through the glass. “You are on top of the world. Well, my world at least. And there you will remain forever because you deserve to be up there.”

“Can you believe it?” Castiel was breathless as Dean grinded their hips together slowly, resting one hand on the wall above Castiel’s head and the other curled around Castiel’s waist. “We’re married. Actually married. A year ago, I would have never thought about this happening to me.”

“Thank goodness you came to London then or else I’d be single, swimming around in pubs and never contented. Do you know what I think though?” Dean brushed their lips together. “I think that we would have met eventually because there is no way in hell that we weren’t destined for each other. When I’m with you, I feel so complete. It’s magical.”

“Ethereal.”

“Yeah! And the best part is, I don’t need to feel anxious about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. I have you now and I have someone to come home to, someone who cares about me and loves me regardless. I can’t wait to do so many things with you, Cas.” Dean wrapped the curtain around them like a cocoon and chuckled. “I can’t wait to make love to you in every single room in the castle.”

“Except the kitchen,” Castiel frowned, tilting his head when the King tasted his neck. The feel of Dean’s mouth on his pores was sensational. “We can’t exactly contaminate where the food is prepared. But the…Christ!” he moaned loudly when Dean sucked on the nape of his neck. “Right there. Don’t leave a hickey though because we have to return to the reception and…Dean!” The feel of his husband’s teeth biting down roughly enough to leave some amount of redness was pleasurable.

Castiel captured both of Dean’s shoulders into his grasp and spun them around. From the moment the other man’s back pressed upon the wall and their eyes met, green ones ignited from a replacement of playfulness with passion. And after Castiel pinned Dean’s arms above his head, the kiss that followed was deep enough to weaken both of them, their hips moving together.

Dean was definitely turned on that he kept moaning over and over again, and by the time they were both worked up enough to feel themselves hot and hard inside their pants, the reminder of the reception downstairs came rushing back like a slap in the face.

“We can’t,” Castiel warned in a whisper, capturing Dean’s hand that tried to slip into the front of his pants. Their lips danced together, breaths warm. “If we do, we will have to change our clothes and then everyone will definitely know that we fucked.”

“So what?” Dean’s voice was raspy. He looped his fingers into the front of Castiel’s pants and pulled them closer, thrusting slowly as his chest heaved. “We’re newly-weds.”

It was so tempting to give in, to get their hands on each other and drive themselves crazy until release. But after Castiel thought of the fact that their suits were both midnight blue and they didn’t own an additional pair of the same color pants, he entwined their fingers and pulled Dean from behind the curtain.

“Cas, no,” his husband whined, a cute puppy expressing crossing his handsome face as he pleaded. “Don’t. I need you now.”

“Tonight when everyone is gone,” Castiel tugged them towards the reception where the music was magical and plucked from the sixties, “you’ll have me as many times as you wish. In fact, I want us both to wake up hoarse and in the afternoon, recovering from exhaustion. But for now, we have guests to entertain.”

“You’re such a bossy husband,” Dean tugged the other man closer to him and they both stepped back into the room crowded with people who immediately noticed them and smiled. Gabriel waved frantically and Ruby laughed.

“Get used to it, and please don’t take my brothers too seriously,” Castiel groaned when Dean’s footsteps led them towards the group of giggling personalities. “They’re very suggestive, have no filter and are extremely nosy. If they ask you about our sex life, please ignore them and don’t answer.”

Suddenly stopping, Dean took Castiel into his arms and pressed his lips to the shell of the other man’s right ear. “If I could tell the world, I would,” he whispered, sending thrills down Castiel’s spine. “But I’d never tell anyone because they’re not worthy enough to know how beautiful it is to make love to you and the way you taste inside my mouth…”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice shook as he lost his composure amidst everyone’s prying eyes.

“Thankfully, biology doesn’t make it possible for one of us to get pregnant or else I’m afraid that we’d have be making babies. Then again…” Dean gazed into blue eyes and smiled. “If we could become pregnant, we’d be more careful, pacing ourselves but because we can’t, there’s no excuse to use up every single opportunity we can get to screw each other.”

“Not in front of the people!” Castiel hissed, took Dean’s hand firmly and dragged him towards Ruby and the gang. “Behave yourself,” he warned, “before I make you pay in bed.”

“Oh, husband,” Dean laughed and allowed himself to be tugged along. “That is exactly what my intentions are.”

No one could have doubted their successful match by the end of the evening, and thus the crowd was equally content with the observations made to go out into the world and spread the good news.

It was a truth now universally acknowledged, that a reporter hailing from New York, could collide with a Prince, fall in love and marry him. And spin a fairytale equally entertaining as any Jane Austen novel, proving that there were no boundaries when one overcame their sense, sensibility, pride and prejudice and gave in to the persuasion of love.

THE END