Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment King John of Winchester started his alliance negotiations with the newly crowned Michael from the neighboring kingdom Dean just knew a proposal for a political marriage would end up on the table (his table, to be more precise) rather sooner than later.

John spent years trying to find some common ground with Michael's father Charles, but the former ruler had been flimsy and unreliable, making it almost impossible to trust him on a greater scale. Trading contracts got ignored and borders bent to the bearded king's own will while he locked himself into his chambers most of the time and fancied himself a writer.

It wasn't very good years.

But now, with Michael ascending the throne and apparently very eager to build prosper relationships with his neighbors and even beyond, John finally got some hope that things might turn out in their favor for a change.

And their chances at becoming one of Michael's preferred partners weren't the worst to begin with. Winchester isn't the biggest country on the continent, but its army is well-known and its natural resources are full and rich. Furthermore, the direct access to the sea and large ports supporting lively trading are certainly a desirable asset.

Michael would be a fool not to gain some advantage out of this.

So when just a few weeks later John announced to his oldest son and heir of the throne that King Michael was offering his youngest brother's hand in marriage to Dean, he wasn't surprised at all.

* * * * *

Prince Castiel is the brother's name and Dean never heard of him before.

There are countless stories about Michael's discipline, his brother Lucifer's wit and sarcasm, Gabriel's pranks (which once ended in a convent burning to the ground), and Princess Anna's beauty, but Castiel has always been in the background.

That might be due to him being the youngest in a line of strong personalities, somehow disappearing in the shine of their bright egos. Or maybe that is just his nature, perfectly happy staying out of the spotlight.

One way or another, Dean is about to marry a total stranger.

And though he knew from a very young age that he would one day make such a sacrifice for his kingdom, he's far from happy about it.

* * * * *

In the back of his mind he always kinda hoped he would end up betrothed to the Lady Lisa of Braeden someday.

There had been hints in the past, about the union of both kingdoms getting stronger and firmly solidified. Lisa and her father visited the castle several times a year, already becoming a familiar presence in the hallways, and Dean as well as most of their people were more or less just waiting for the responsible parties to announce the engagement of Dean and Lisa.

Dean sure wouldn't have minded.

Lisa is smart and kind and overall very wonderful and he's pretty sure he would've grown to love her one day. He's already considering her a close friend anyway, it wouldn't take much to make that final jump. And even if his feelings would have stayed platonic for the rest of their days, a union with someone you cherish is way more than men in his position can ever hope for.

So yes, marrying Lisa would have been very nice.

But fate obviously had some other plans for him.

* * * * *

The only good thing so far is the fact that the wedding wouldn't take place anytime soon.

Apparently the prince is currently at the university (which lies on a small island close to Winchester's borders) and is very determined to finish his studies before anything else might happen. Obviously he's living there for quite some time now, surrounded by scholars and teachers and overall the brightest people you can even imagine, and just isn't very keen on dropping everything right on the spot.

It seems that it would take at least another year for an official wedding to happen, perhaps even more.

Dean feels beyond relieved to have some time to get acquainted to the entire thing.

Because even though he had more or less his whole life to prepare for the day he might marry a stranger, it's still so much.

* * * * *

In his desire to know at least something about his betrothed – anything, even the smallest thing – Dean eventually finds himself in the company of Robert (or Bobby as he likes to be called).

Before becoming leader of the Royal Guard he occasionally functioned as an ambassador and had been to Michael's kingdom several times, meeting the royal family and trying to make a good impression instead of grumbling into his beard and calling everyone around him “idjits”.

“Tell me about the prince,” Dean urges one morning as he tracks the older man down at the stables.

“What do you want to know?”

Bobby's expression is wary, like he's not really sure what Dean aims to achieve with his question.

“Just – I don't know …” Dean sighs loudly. “I know nothing about him. He could be a bald, overweight, and rude narcissist who drinks beer out of animal skulls all day long.”

Bobby merely scoffs at the mere insinuation. “That's what you're going with, boy?”

Dean throws his arms into the air in frustration. “I don't know! Maybe?”

Bobby obviously takes pity on him as he lays his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes it way too tightly. “I know this is not the most ideal situation for you,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “And I would love to calm your nerves about his whole affair, but sadly I can't tell you much about the prince. The few times I was over there he mostly kept in the background. I can't recall speaking to him even once.”

The corners of Dean's mouth droop. He was honestly counting to get at least a vague impression of his future husband.

“So you don't know anything either?”

Bobby tilts his head to one side. “Well, I heard a thing or two about him while I was at court,” he offers eventually.

Dean listens up. “And what was that?”

Bobby hesitates for a moment and studies the prince from top to bottom, like he's evaluating whether Dean would be capable to endure the information or not. Dean instantly starts to fidget, wondering what the hell might be waiting for him.

“Prince Castiel is rumored to be of high intelligence,” Bobby speaks up in the end. “He's been staying at the university for a few years now.”

Dean can't help nodding along to that. “I know. That's why the wedding is on hold until he's finished with his studies.”

“He's not only studying there,” Bobby clarifies. “He's also leading several teaching classes and participates in many research projects for various fields. His expertise is apparently scattered over many different topics. One chambermaid told me that he can talk about the importance of bees to the ecosystem or literary metaphors in ancient prose for days.”

Dean feels something uncomfortable settling in his chest.

It seems like Castiel is way out of his league.

Granted, Dean is far from stupid, but his soon-to-be husband sounds like he's on another level entirely. Dean is fairly sure he has nothing to offer to impress the young prince and that thought is fairly depressing.

Dean seriously didn't expect love or at least a deep friendship, not by any means, but he figured that it would be nice to sit down with his husband from time to time and talk about anything else than matters of the state. Build a relationship on a somewhat personal level.

But now it seems that anything that Dean might've had to say to Castiel would fade in comparison to the vast knowledge already inside his head.

Prince Castiel probably will think him uneducated and brawn next to all the smart people he has been surrounding himself with for years.

Yes, Dean has not much to offer.

“So he is a brainiac,” he concludes, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“From what I heard, yes,” Bobby confirms, patting Dean's shoulder in a reassuring manner. “He will get along with Sam quite famously, I imagine.”

Dean huffs. That's at least something.

“But I'm sure you're gonna find some common ground as well,” Bobby adds hastily at the sight of the prince's sour expression. “At least I can tell you he's neither bald nor overweight or a rude narcissist.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You're sure about that?”

“Well, I'm no expert, but he is reasonably handsome, I guess.” Bobby shrugs his shoulders like he feels a bit lost here, but wants to soothe Dean's nerves anyway. “Dark hair. Quite a good figure for a bookworm. Blue eyes. Ridiculously blue eyes.”

Well, all right.

That doesn't sound so bad.

And yet …

“How are you so sure about the rude narcissist thing?” Dean can't help asking. “I thought you didn't really talk with him?”

Bobby offers him a soft smile. “One night, during the fanciest banquet I probably have ever witnessed, I saw the prince accidentally colliding with a maid, sending the tray with cutlery in her hands right onto the floor. The poor girl was shaking with fear as all the people in the hall were suddenly stopping their conversations to stare at her and for a second I was actually afraid she would faint right there on the spot.” He pulls a face at the memory. “But Prince Castiel, he somehow calmed her down. I was too far away to hear what he said to her, but the girl seemed to melt instantly. And then the prince suddenly dropped to the ground on his knees and collected the scattered forks and knives, not caring at all that he was wearing the finest wardrobe.”

Huh.

Dean has to admit, that does seem interesting.

“And the funny thing is, no one appeared surprised by the whole thing,” Bobby adds. “Nobody batted an eyelash, hell, not even the king himself scolded his son for ignoring his rank. They obviously all just kind of expected this, like they couldn't have imagined Castiel doing anything less. It clearly wasn't his first time crouching on the ground, that's for sure.”

Bobby straightens his back as he runs his fingers through the mare's mane beside him. “I don't know about you, but for me that sounds like a good fella. You could do much worse, Dean.”

Dean blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Maybe he is right.

Perhaps the whole thing won't end in a total disaster after all.

* * * * *

Dean is hit with an idea when he spots Garth in the hallway one day.

Garth is one of the two messengers who frequently travel between the city and the university to cover the lively correspondence between the scholars of their kingdoms. The university has a esteemed research history and several of the greatest academics all over the world decided to teach there, therefore also Winchester's intellectuals are keen to stay in contact and gain from the vast knowledge gathered in one place.

Dean never bothered thinking much about it at all, but when he spots Garth just handing a letter to one of their court physicians – most likely written by a fairly smart doctor currently residing at the university – he intercepts the man's path before he allows himself to mull it over too closely.

“Tell me something, Garth,” Dean instantly jumps right into the conversation. “How often do you travel over to the university?”

Garth's eyes widen for a moment, obviously struck by the crown prince noticing his mere existence and even knowing his name, but he composes himself relatively quickly. The guy seems a bit awkward and weird, but he has the uncanny ability to adjust to almost anything and a prince asking for his attention might probably not even be on his top ten list.

“Well, I'm sharing the job with someone else,” Garth explains like he's talking to an old friend and not a man who has in theory the power to let him see executed for breathing funny. “Aaron is his name, nice fella. At first it was just me, but the demand got higher and higher over the years and I wouldn't see my family at all if I'd still do this by myself. So Aaron and I are taking turns to cover the workload.”

Dean nods along as he has to confess that this is pretty interesting. He never paid attention to it apart from a very fleeting thought and now he can't help wondering what else he had been missing.

“Usually the whole thing takes about seven to ten days in total,” Garth continues, picking up Dean's question. “Getting to the university takes about a day and a half, then either me or Aaron stay there for a couple of days to give the academics the chance to write the answers to the letters they received, and then we travel back and wait a few days again to give our scholars here at home the same period of time to get their writing done. And then it starts all over again.”

Dean tilts his head to one side. That sounds rather fascinating, he has to admit.

“Have you seen Prince Castiel around?” he can't help asking.

Something like recognition lights up in Garth's eyes, as though he finally understands Dean's curiosity about his job all of a sudden, but he refrains from commenting on it as he replies, “I delivered letters to him once or twice, yes. Very nice man.”

Dean's not really sure whether Garth is the best judge of character, but he lets it slide for now. At least it doesn't disagree with Bobby's assessment.

“If I were to send a letter,” Dean says after leaning in a bit closer and dropping his voice, eager not to be overheard, “and if I told you to stay quiet about it –”

“We're absolutely discreet, my lord,” Garth reassures right away. “We won't tell a single soul if that's what you desire.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line.

It's not like his father would disapprove Dean writing to his future husband, but it would come with a lot of expectations and nagging questions if he'd let his family in on his plans. He never liked people snooping in his private affairs.

No, he would rather get a feel of Castiel first, test the waters, so to speak. No one but Dean would end up disappointed that way if things wouldn't proceed as anticipated.

He could always tell his family afterwards.

“All right,” Dean says. “I might come back to you at some point.”

* * * * *

Dean spends about a week contemplating whether the entire idea is actually worth pursuing or not.

And then, when he finally decides that yes, it can't really hurt to talk to his betrothed before the wedding and at least get him to know a little bit, for better or worse – then he sits in front of a blank page for several hours, trying and failing miserably to come up with the proper words.

At first he attempts to stay polite and distant, but he feels absolutely uncomfortable doing so.

Afterwards he goes for sophisticated and tries to sound as smart and knowledgeable as possible, figuring that using Castiel's brainy language would get him some bonus points in the long run. However, Dean manages only a few sentences before his head actually starts to hurt and he finds himself dropping the quill. Granted, he's more than capable to talk about academic topics, even for a longer period of time if necessary, but in the end it's not him.

It feels fake.

So eventually he decides to just be himself. After all, Castiel has to marry his lame ass sooner than later and Dean doesn't see any reason to start their relationship with a lie. Castiel simply has to live with his big mouth and his give-'em-hell attitude, so he seriously should get used to it, the sooner the better.

Dear Prince Castiel,

I hope you don't find me improper writing to you out of the blue. But I was struck with this idea when I spotted one of the messengers who visits your university on a regular basis and I figured it would be a good way to get to know each other.

After all, it seems that we're going to spend a lot of time – a lifetime, to be precise – with each other eventually and in my opinion it can't hurt to form some kind of connection beforehand.

Just now you're just a stranger, as I am to you, and I would like to change that. With your permission, of course.

If you think me silly, just ignore this letter and we will never speak of it again, even in fifty years when I'm going to complain about my bad back almost constantly (I'm already apologizing for that in advance). But if you find the idea at least half-decent, please just let me know.

Either way, sincerely,

Dean

For a moment Dean hesitates to just put his first name there, without any titles or whatever, but damn, this is his soon-to-be husband here and Dean would hate to be called anything else by him.

Sighing deeply he puts the letter in an envelope, seals it accordingly, and prays to any deity who might listen in that everything will turn out alright in the end.

* * * * *

For the next week Dean feels highly anxious.

Will Castiel think him stupid? Will he roll his eyes at Dean's letter and throw it away? Or will he feel obligated to answer as he grumbles the whole time, complaining about how he could spend his precious time much more efficiently?

Dean knows he shouldn't care, shouldn't let himself be affected that much, but dammit, he can't help it.

He tries not to let the people around him see his inner turmoil. He still jokes around, he trains with the knights and bashes their heads in, he helps his father with matters of the state in a dignified manner and at the end of the day he teases Sam for every little thing he does.

Sometimes he thinks he's overdoing it a bit, but nobody really seems to notice, so maybe he's just imagining things.

When finally, after agonizing days of doubting himself, he spots Garth at the hallway, his heart stops for a beat and he finds himself approaching the man before he's even able to remember himself to stay at least somewhat composed.

Garth, however, just smiles softly at him, apparently not a single judgmental bone in his body, as he hands a white envelope over and immediately is on his way again to deliver the rest of his mail.

Dean stares after him for a minute, determined not to let any emotion show on his features, and eventually drops his gaze to the letters in his hand.

It's unremarkable, the seal just the one of the university and not a royal one, and at first Dean considers that Garth accidentally gave him the wrong one, but then he notices the name written on it, in big and fairly beautiful looking letters.

DEAN.

Just the name.

No title, no rank.

Incapable of waiting any longer Dean hastily retreats to a small alcove right next to him and rips the envelope open.

Dear Dean,

(I sincerely hope it isn't improper to address you in such a way, but since you didn't bother with any display of titles in your message, I took the liberty to adopt it. Please let me know if I'm being inappropriate.)

I was fairly surprised to get your letter just now, I have to confess. Pleasantly surprised, however.

I'm very grateful you're reaching out to me. I was considering doing something similar as well, basically since the moment my brother informed me about the proposal for marriage, but I wasn't sure whether such an action would be welcome. I have to admit I always have been quite inapt in social situations (which you will learn about me rather sooner than later anyway) and I simply couldn't tell if trying to contact you would be the right step or not.

After all, just like you said, we're basically strangers.

Therefore I'm highly pleased you're seeking to change that. I have a lot of questions for you and I'm sure you have quite a few for me as well. Unfortunately due to some assignment and you seriously catching me off guard with your unexpected (and yet highly welcome) letter I don't have the time right now to go into much detail beside this quick note. I apologize for the shortness of my response and I promise you that my next messages will be far more informative.

I'm looking forward to getting to know you better and anxiously await your letters.

Sincerely,

Castiel

Dean takes a deep breath and reads the whole thing a second time, just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

Well, Castiel seems genuinely pleased with Dean's decision and appears excited to deepen their relationship. Furthermore, he signed off with only his first name too and if Dean has ever learned anything from dealing with noble men all his life, then that it is not something to take lightly. Most of them are crazy about their statuses, even in the company of longtime friends, and Dean is glad to learn that Castiel obviously isn't one of them.

Maybe this entire thing won't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

And so, over the next few months, a lively correspondence begins.

Though, certainly, Dean doesn't keep count.

(He does not !)

* * * * *

One:

Dear Castiel,

You're more than welcome to just call me “Dean”. Apart from the fact that we're about to be married and I'd rather call my spouse by their first name instead of a long list of titles out of principle alone, you will come to learn that most people in Winchester are a bit more casual with each other than you might be used to. From my point of view we're one big family and though my father insists on a certain proper etiquette, I have to confess I'm far more relaxed in those matters.

Just a fair warning that you're going to have to deal with your future husband preferring to be on a first name basis with lots of people. Once again, I apologize in advance. (I've got the feeling I will be doing a lot of that in our future letters.)

However, I'm relieved to hear you're open to my suggestion. I was a bit anxious you would think me silly and my attempt unnecessary, but hearing that you were considering something similar as well is certainly nice to hear.

I guess it would be a good start to tell each other some basic, personal things at first, right?

Well, I'm the crown prince (no surprise there, right?), I love long walks on the beach and teasing my little brother Sam. Like seriously, 80% of my messages will just be me rambling and complaining about my brother, so be warned. You're naturally more than welcome to skip those parts, for your own health. (I actually recommend it, to be honest.)

Though of course you're more than welcome to bitch about your own siblings to me as well. I've heard you've got a bunch of them and as the youngest of the flock I can imagine things not being too easy on you. Sammy's already having a hard enough time dealing with just one older brother, but I assume having several of those can become tiring over time.

So yeah, feel free to ramble. I may not always agree with you (because generally at the end of the day the older siblings are ALWAYS right, no matter what you younglings might claim otherwise – sorry, those are simply the rules!), but people tell me I'm a fairly good listener, so just go ahead!

What else can I tell you about myself? Well, I love horse riding. Impala has been with me since I can remember and she is my biggest pride. She is tall and black and beautiful and absolutely able to eat my enemies for breakfast, especially the most annoying ones. I call her affectionately “Baby” more often than not and some people may see me too attached to her, but I don’t give much of a damn about their opinion.

Consider this a fair warning then, she has a special place in my heart and as my future husband you just have to deal with that. Those are the rules.

Another thing absolutely dear to me is pie. Like SERIOUSLY! It’s one of the greatest love stories ever told, even more epic than humankind’s most famous romances, and if you ever find yourself in need of cheering me up or - more importantly - bribing me, a simple (and yet truly delicious) slice of pie will get you EVERYWHERE!

Do with that information what you want, but if I were you, I would certainly keep that in mind.

(Damn, I’m totally gonna regret giving this away so easily, right??)

Well, I guess for a first quick impression this wasn’t so bad, was it? I certainly did worse in the past, I’m pretty sure. (Like that one time I congratulated a visiting noblewoman on her pregnancy - though unfortunately it turned out she only gained weight since the last time I saw her. I’m fairly certain til this day I’m not her favorite person.)

I’m looking forward to your next letter!

Best regards,

Dean

*  * *  * *

Two:

Dear Dean,

I certainly don’t mind being on a more personal note with the people around me. I know a lot of men in my position would insist on rank and etiquette, but I have to say I’m actually quite relieved to hear that things in Winchester are a little more casual. Here at the university people have stopped trying to address me with my title after I corrected them too many times and a lot of the younger students don’t even have any idea who I really am. They only think of me as a fellow student or a tutor/teacher who is making their lives miserable - they don’t know they’re talking with an actual prince every other day and I really prefer it.

I know that the anonymity will eventually vanish as soon as I’m going to take the place on the throne next to yours, of course, but for now I’m enjoying those innocent and unsuspecting eyes looking at me like I’m everybody else. It’s certainly different to the way I grew up.

For now, though, I sincerely appreciate your list of personal information. I’m going to remember every single one of them for later use, especially the one about pie. It might be of advantage some day, so thank you for your openness.

I assume it is my turn now? Well, I’m the youngest of five siblings and, as you already assumed, hadn’t the easiest time. My brothers and sister have very strong and quite different personalities and I always felt a little overwhelmed by it, to be honest. It also didn’t help that my understanding of social interactions is fairly limited at best which has been surely exploited by my family (especially Gabriel) in the past.

And this is probably something you should know about me. People describe me as “socially awkward” quite often. I can’t really tell you where this is coming from, I certainly received the same education as my siblings, but for some reason a lot of social aspects have always been really odd to me. It has gotten better, particularly since I’m at the university, however, I still find myself in weird situations that everyone around me seems to consider normal and leave me highly confused. So if I’d ever dismiss one of your jokes or references, I’m not ignoring you and being rude, but I have simply no idea that something is happening in the first place.

I guess this is something I have to apologize in advance for myself. Please don’t take it personal, by any means.

However, as I said, I improved over the years, at least a little bit. Staying at the university, surrounded by people who are neither my family not servants but men and women I admire and respect, did me some good, I think.

It took me some while to convince my father to send me here instead of just getting me special tutors right back at home. I wanted something for myself, though, some indepence after living in the huge shadows of my brothers and sister for years, and I felt confident to achieve that. Surprisingly enough it was Gabriel who backed me up on this so that eventually our father relented and allowed me to come here.

It’s a quiet, quite wonderful place and I consider myself blessed staying in the company of such brilliant minds. At home I started to feel bored after a while, the teachers and the (in my opinion) too small library not challenging me enough, but here I finally found my match. It’s liberating to just let your mind go and not being judged by your siblings.

At first I had no specific goal when I came here, my interests broadly diversified, and I just was eager to brighten my horizon. Particularly on topics I hadn’t the opportunity to study intensely yet.

But for over a year now I’m almost solely focused on medicine, I have to say. Especially the biological and pharmaceutical aspect of it all, the creation of potions and remedies to make the everyday life of people better. It requires both a vast knowledge of human anatomy as well as the effects of herbs (and other ingredients) and their interactions with each other. It is one big interplay and you have to be careful to make it all right.

It’s fairly fascinating and I’m still feeling like I’ve only scratched the surface, no matter the time I already spent on this. It will probably always be a lifetime experience for me, even when I’m gray and old.

So don’t be freaked out when I sometimes lock myself in a room and experiment for days on end, only focused on my task at hand (you will most likely have to remind me to eat more often than not), while some strange smells waft out into the hallway. It’s going to be perfectly normal occurrence and I’m sure you will get used to it pretty soon.

Just a friendly heads-up, so that you know what to prepare for.

I think this is it for now. I hope I haven’t bored you too much and await your response eagerly.

Sincerely,

Castiel

* * * * *

Three:

Dear Castiel,

Medicine, huh? Color me impressed.

I have to confess I was wondering about the topic you are studying, but this wasn’t really on the top of my list. From what I heard about you I assumed something with literature and languages would captivate your day and night. But this? I’m sincerely intrigued now.

I think there is still so much to learn, still so much we don’t know yet or just starting to realize, and it’s amazing to hear how dedicated you are to that cause. It’s always admirable to serve the people in such a way and try to make their lives better. We are suffering from both severe diseases as well as little ailments every single day, one way or another, and it’s good to know that there are men like you out there, fighting the good fight. Against an enemy you can’t see, of all things.

Hell, I think most of the human race would be entirely grateful for a simple potion that could get rid of headaches in an efficient way. I certainly would count myself to one of them.

So yes, I’m impressed. And a little bit intimidated, I have to admit.

I am sorry, though, that you have to leave the university eventually. It sounds like you’re really enjoying your time there. I can’t really make any promises yet since I’m not the king (and I hope it will take a long time until it’ll come to that), but I’m sure we can come up with something that you won’t lose your connection to this place. Regular visits, maybe extended stays. I don’t know, but I’m sure my father will be inclined to your wishes.

For now I can only assure you that Winchester has a lot of brilliant scholars itself and I’m positive you will find some intelligent people here in the castle to talk to. At least I really hope you won’t lack any entertainment.

Sincerely,

Dean

* * * * *

Four:

Dear Dean,

It’s really sweet that you’re already thinking about my future well-being and I appreciate the effort.

I know there are a lot of bright scholars in your kingdom, as they confer with us at the university on a regular basis. I think one of my professors is a close friend with your court physician even.

But please don’t sell yourself short here, Dean. I heard great things about you, particularly about your sharp mind. I’m sure we won’t be lacking anything to talk about. I can ramble about sunflowers for hours and you can educate me in all the things I still know nothing about. I’m certain in a way you’re probably even more knowledgeable than I am, even if you might think otherwise.

At least I’m enjoying myself immensely exchanging letters with you and I’m sure it will be even more pleasurable face to face eventually.

So please don’t feel intimidated. I’m just a regular, a bit weird, socially awkward man who rambles about herbs a little too much. As you will learn soon enough in our future correspondence, I’m sure of that.

Sincerely,

Castiel

* * * * *

Twelve:

[...]

And that was the day Gabriel somehow managed to hide every single piece of footwear within the entire castle. Beginning with the king and ending with the youngest stable boy.

NO ONE had a single pair of shoes left!

And until this day nobody has even the faintest idea how Gabriel managed to execute such a huge undertaking. It’s probably the biggest mystery the kingdom has ever seen and my brother will most likely wait until his dying breath to reveal his secret.

It was definitely a spectacle, seeing all the people running around barefoot and trying desperately to procure some shoes. I actually found it quite amusing, I have to say. Even a bit liberating.

The delegation from the neighboring kingdom, however, didn’t share that sentiment …

[...]

* * * * *

Fifteen:

[...]

And Sammy already speaks five languages fluently. Some languages I haven’t even heard about. He probably won’t ever need them, for anything, but for now he seems happy to occupy himself with them, so whatever floats his boat, I guess.

[...]

* * * * *

Seventeen:

[...]

I was wrong: Sammy uses those languages to tease and insult me, right into my face, without me having ANY idea what he’s even saying!

I mean, he claims he’s just practising and that he doesn’t speak any ill words about me, but damn, I know he’s lying, that little jerk!!

[...]

* * * * *

Twenty-Six:

[...]

Did I ever tell you that I’m very fond of cats, Dean? Not just as mouse hunters, but as companions?

Despite people claiming otherwise they’re very loyal and loving and their purring is quite calming. I love having them around me  and I will continue doing so, even when we are married. I’m sorry I have to tell you that, but this is something that’s non-negotiable. You have to live with that, I suppose.

[...]

* * * * *

Twenty-Seven:

[...]

Damn, I hate cats! They always look at me like they’re planning to eat my soul and drag me down to Hell.

[...]

* * * * *

Twenty-Eight:

[...]

Then I advise you to either get over yourself or accept the idea of us living in separate rooms.

Because NON-NOGETIONALBE!

[...]

* * * * *

Twenty-Nine:

[...]

Well, then I guess I have to get over myself, huh?

[...]

* * * * *

Thirty:

[...]

And please don’t worry, Dean. If one of my cats would ever drag you to Hell, I would come after you and pull you out!

[...]

* * * * *

Thirty-Nine:

Hey Cas,

I'm sorry this time my letter is shorter than you're used to.

But I'm not feeling very well – nothing serious, yet annoying – and my brain isn't capable of forming any coherent words. Our court physician is optimistic I will be my old self in a week or two, however, right now I just feel like dying and wanna sleep for six million years …

Dean

* * * * *

Forty:

Hello Dean,

Hearing about your condition had me worried right away. I don't like you to suffer and even though you're going to be well eventually, the present is still cruel.

For about a few hours after reading your letter I was actually considering just dropping everything and rushing to your side, tending to your needs and lessen your pain at least a little bit. It was a fairly irrational thought, highly untypical for me, but obviously you have some strange effects on me, Dean of Winchester.

However, after eventually realizing that it would be all kinds of inconvenient (not to mention that Michael would probably have me imprisoned for leaving the safety of the university on the spur of the moment without consulting him first), I opted instead for the next best thing.

As you may have noticed, next to my usual letter Garth brought a little package for you as well. I even asked him to shorten his stay here at the university, so he could be back with you as soon as possible. Some of the scholars didn't seem all too happy with my decision, hoping for the usual amount of time to write back to their colleagues in Winchester, but when I used my royal privilege (it doesn't appear often, but for you I made an exception) and furthermore told them it's about the crown prince's health, they kept their mouths shut pretty quickly.

So yes, this is why Garth is back sooner than normally. You may not even have noticed – I know sickness and fever can make you fuzzy with how many hours or even days already have passed –, but for me it still felt too long.

In the package you will find several phials which contain remedies and poultices I helped developing over the last few years. I don't like making diagnoses from afar, but after interrogating Garth almost excessively about your symptoms I think I put a good collection together that will help you a great deal. We had lots of success with similar cases in the past and I'm sure it's going to bring you some comfort too.

There is a little manual inside the package as well. You should pay attention to it very carefully – or perhaps at first let someone else handle the administering – because too much or even the wrong phial might even make it worse in the end. So please, be cautious. You should also consult your physician first (I put an extra letter for him inside the package too, a list of all the ingredients and several letters of recommendations from esteemed colleagues, so he won't find himself hesitant to give it to you), just to be on the safe side.

Get well soon!

Worried, yet hopeful,

Castiel

* * * * *

Forty-One:

Dear Cas,

Wow!

Just WOW!

Are you a wizard? Or even an angel?

My own personal guardian angel?

Because honestly, I have no idea what you put in all those potions (despite my physician trying to explain it to me), but I'm sure it has to be freaking MAGIC!!!

I mean, at first I was very reluctant to swallow the stuff. Even with my stuffy nose especially the tincture in the blue bottle smelled like Hell bend over and wallowed itself in horse dung. I think I actually cried a little.

If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have tried it but continue to live in misery instead. But because it's you and your amazing skills I gave it a shot at the end anyway. At least I knew you wouldn't poison me deliberately – though, honestly, after the first few swallows it kinda felt that way.

I cursed you for the first half an hour because I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth. I'm pretty sure I also whined and whimpered like a baby for a while there.

But then – my headache suddenly disappeared! My sore throat didn't feel like on fire anymore! My eyes, my nose, and basically my whole body stopped burning all at once!

You're SERIOUSLY a wizard!! Or an angel! A wizard guardian angel?

(I think my brain still might be a bit mushy.)

Of course I didn't jump out of bed right away and went on my day like nothing ever happened, I still felt way too weak for that, but your wonder mixtures really helped me a great deal. The pain lessened and I was finally able to catch up on some much needed sleep. In the end it took barely a few days for me to feel like my old self again.

So thank you!! You really saved me from lots of suffering. And if we weren't already betrothed, I certainly would ask you to marry me right now!

Sincerely grateful,

Dean

* * * * *

Forty-Four:

[...]

Thank you so much for the book you sent me, Dean. I’ve heard many good things about this author, but I’ve never read anything of his before.

And I especially appreciate that you didn’t just send me a random copy you simply found lying around but you’re very own. I can see how loved this book is, the pages used yet handled with care, the little notes on the sides, at the scenes you enjoyed the most. It made the experience even more pleasurable and I feel like I know you even a little better now.

As soon as I will be finished - which probably won’t take long since the story is very captivating - I’m going to give it to Garth/Aaron to bring it back to you.

[...]

* * * * *

Forty-Five:

[...]

It’s not necessary to send it back to me, Cas. Just bring it with you when you come to Winchester.

When you come to me.

[...]

* * * * *

Fifty-Five:

Hey Cas,

Did I actually ever tell you about my mother?

I can imagine you probably heard a thing or two about her, how kind and just she was, how she didn’t take anyone’s bullshit, how young she died eventually … but I’m not sure I ever mentioned her before?

It’s hard to talk about her sometimes. My father always gets this crestfallen expression when her name is voiced, even after all these years, and usually no one dares to dig any further after that. He still hurts so much and reminding him of what he lost seems both a crime to humanity as well as dangerous (as some of his courtiers found out when they suggested to him to marry anew and got death glares and the most tense silence in the history of mankind in response - afterwards they never tried to propose such a thing again (especially after the initiators of that suggestion suspiciously vanished from the castle and were never heard from again)).

I was fours years old when she died. There had been a fire in the west wing, right where some construction was happening and lots of wood lay around everywhere. We don’t really know how the whole thing started and why my mother decided to rush there instead of bringing herself to safety. I heard a rumor once that she believed me to have been there, playing hide and seek between all those dry and flammable boards (though in reality I had been in a different part of the castle altogether at the time), and she hurried toward the fire to “save” me.

I have no idea whether that’s true or just gossip that’s floating around, but it has been following me ever since I first heard it. I didn’t dare to talk to anyone about it, not with my father, not even with Sam, because I’m afraid of the answer. What if it IS true? What if she’d only been there because of me?

I was a little brat back then, always running away from my caretakers and giving them headaches. It probably wouldn’t have taken much for my mother to believe that I slipped off again and hid at a construction site of all things.

I don’t know. I don’t know if the entire thing is even true in the first place or if she’s been at the west wing for a totally different reason … I just don’t know. Fire is a malicious thing and maybe she just got trapped way quicker than she anticipated and couldn’t escape anymore. Several people died or at least got hurt that day, the flames spreading wide and fast, and almost half the castle burned down. Perhaps she was just one of the unfortunate, the wrong place at the wrong time, and it had nothing to do with me in the first place.

But it’s haunting me nonetheless.

My father made sure to improve the whole building afterwards, making it as fireproof as possible. I highly doubt something like this could ever happen again, but it doesn’t make the loss any less painful. On the contrary, for me it’s even worse, that something so awful had to happen for the situation to change into something good. You know what I mean?

One way or another, my mother will always be remembered, I’m sure of that. Unfortunately I can’t recall her that well - some glimpses of a warm smile, a voice singing a song, a few phrases and things she must have said to me at some point - and it saddens me every day that I will never really know her, at least the version of myself I am right now. Sometimes I think I would sacrifice almost everything, my crown even, just to spend a little more time with her. I don’t know if that’s stupid or not, but I can’t help myself.

I’m really sorry for this depressing letter, but I guess talking about my mother is never a happy topic. I hope one day I will be able to tell stories about her with a smile on my face instead of grief in my heart.

Nevertheless, I apologize to you.

Always grateful for your patient ear,

Dean

* * * * *

Fifty-Six:

Hello Dean,

Please don’t apologize to be open about your feelings. I feel very humbled that you find yourself able to confide in me in such a manner and I am grateful for your trust. Just a few months ago I thought it impossible to talk so freely with you and now it appears like an almost unsurprising occurrence.

I am truly sorry about your loss and the things you’re still going through because of that. I can’t really relate to your situation (I never knew my mother and my father died after long sickness, not at all in such a tragic event like your mother), but nevertheless I hope you know that you can always talk to me.

I know that sometimes it’s hard to find the right words, particularly when you’re surrounded by an aura of grief and emotions, and writing your feelings down and sharing them with someone outside of that circle really helps getting a little bit settled. I know how important that is (not only because I read countless studies about this topic) and you will always find an open ear with me. Talk about your mother as much or as little as you want, tell me your sweetest memories in great detail, tell me your fears, or don’t tell me anything at all. I won’t judge.

Always here for you,

Castiel

* * * * *

Sixty-Six:

Hello Dean,

After all these months I have a confession to make: The idea of an arranged marriage terrified me.

I tentatively hoped that I would never be in such a position. That I would become a full-time scholar, probably teaching at the university, and either never get married or choose a partner myself.

So when Michael approached me and told me about the deal he made with your father, I sincerely dreaded the whole thing. I knew deep down that, next to the political advantage this arrangement would provide, my brother had only the best interest at heart. As the youngest son of a long lineage of children I wasn’t destined for much greatness. But being married to the heir of the throne and future king would make me a king myself. It would give me a position I never really thought possible.

It would provide me with possibilities I never thought possible.

But still, I resented the idea and felt highly upset about it. I fought a lot with Michael about it, but in the end he won. Naturally.

So when your first letter arrived, I was in a very complicated emotional state. I was angry and scared, but also thinking about ways the make the situation less unbearable for me. And then your letter came and you seemed so genuine and open and for the first time since Michael announced his plans I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe everything would turn out all right eventually.

After so many letters I just have to say: I’m not scared anymore.

Grateful,

Castiel

* * * * *

Sixty-Seven:

Hey Cas,

Thank you for your honesty.

I can seriously relate. I mean, I always kinda knew that I wouldn’t have much say concerning the person I would marry, but it still felt a bit surreal when it suddenly became reality.

I wasn’t happy that I was supposed to marry a stranger. No one could really tell me much about you and I grew frustrated pretty fast. And when I heard that the wedding would take place after you’d finish your studies, after a year or maybe even more, I found myself relieved. For one, to have the time to get accustomed to the idea in general, and two, to hope that everything would fall apart eventually.

Of course I didn’t want the relationship between our kingdoms damaged in any way, but a year is still an awful lot of time. I thought that perhaps my father would deem it too long a time at some point or that they would change their minds eventually, finding another solution or dropping the whole marriage thing altogether.

I’m ashamed to say this now, but at the beginning I was seriously counting on something like this to happen.

But then we started to exchange these letters and before I knew what was happening I was telling you things I never told anyone before and began to trust you in a way very few people are privileged.

You’re an amazing man and I feel honored to know you.

I feel honored to call myself your friend and I can’t wait to see you become my husband.

Yours,

Dean

Chapter Text

It’s been an eventful couple of months, that’s for sure.

At first Dean was fairly pleased to learn that Castiel certainly is the kind of man you wouldn't resent to spend time with.

He is smart and witty and has a very dry sense of humor Dean took a while to really get, but now can't imagine ever living without it. He's probably the most intelligent person Dean ever had the pleasure to talk with, but instead of making the prince feel inferior or even starting to get all condescending on him Castiel is open and nice and never lets Dean feel like the dumb one. On the contrary, Castiel seems in awe by all the things Dean can teach him in return, may it be horse riding, sword fighting, the interpretation of weather patterns, the studies of animal behavior, and so on.

So yes, Dean saw this turning into an equal relationship pretty soon.

It didn’t take long for the prince to actually long for Castiel’s letters to arrive. Sometimes he spotted Garth or Aaron at the courtyard, just coming back from the university, and he had to use all the strength and composure he had inside himself not to rush outside and jump the poor guy like a giddy teenager incapable of patience.

And their letters grew more and more personal over time. Just one moment they were merely joking and teasing each other in a harmless way and in the next he suddenly opened up about his fears and doubts. He told Castiel about his uncertainty of taking over the kingdom one day, about his nightmares, and, most importantly, about his mother.

When Dean started writing these letters he never thought it would eventually turn into this. He simply imagined to get to know the guy a little better and get a rough picture of what kind of man he is.

And now it seems like they looked into each other’s souls.

Huh.

What the hell happened?

* * * * *

Dean can’t really say when he first detected his changing feelings.

But at some point he paid closer attention to his own emotional state and suddenly noticed a weird change as soon as he started to think about Castiel. At first it was just a pleasant warmth when either Garth or Aaron delivered him one more letter. But at some point it turned into a fluttering stomach and a racing heart.

Sometimes he even found himself blushing when Castiel said something cutely blunt about him, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and wondered whether Castiel had similar reactions to some things Dean wrote.

And then their letters got even more intimate and they started to talk about their future married life in an almost casual manner and it made Dean gleeful in a way he never experienced before.

Damn .

* * * * *

One evening, while enjoying a light snack in front of the fireplace with his brother, Dean suddenly finds himself asking, “You think it's possible to develop feelings for someone you never met?”

Sam rises an eyebrow in question, a leaf of salad unattractively hanging out of his mouth's corner. “What do you mean?” he wonders, his words a bit muffled by the food between his teeth.

Dean begins to squirm. He hadn't really meant to say anything, but now that it's out in the open he doesn't see himself backing out of it somehow. He hadn't told anyone about his contact with Castiel yet and though it felt nice to have something like this just for himself, he knows that he can't keep it forever.

Especially now, with these weird emotions bubbling up inside of him.

“I mean …” Dean licks his lips and averts Sam's intense gaze. “When you're exchanging letters with someone you actually never met before … you think there could be some kind of, I dunno, connection?”

He knows that he's probably sounding like an idiot, all bumbling and awkward, but he can't help himself.

Sam, thankfully, doesn't tease him for it as he replies, “Of course. Great friendships bloomed that way, even with people living on opposite sides of the world who never met each other.”

Dean instantly shakes his head. “No, not friendship,” he counters, but immediately corrects himself as the words sound wrong in his mouth, “I mean, yes , friendship, there is friendship …”

Because he'd like to call Castiel his friend and he thinks that the man feels the same.

“But I'm talking about something else,” Dean clarifies. “Something … deeper.”

Sam's eyes widen when he eventually catches on. “Oh,” he says. “You mean feelings.”

Dean scoffs. He feels like a freaking teenager again. “Yes, feelings.”

Sam studies him for a moment in silence, probably trying to assess whether his brother is asking out of general curiosity or if there is something happening on a more personal level, before taking a deep breath and answering, “Well, yes, of course it is possible.”

Dean's stomach involuntarily starts to flutter. “You think?”

“It's actually a very wonderful kind of love,” Sam says, smiling while using the L-word so casually Dean feels a shiver running down his spine. “I know it might sound somewhat unconventional to you, but appearance is not all there is. Falling in love with a person – with their mind, their wit, their actions – is actually pretty pure, in my opinion. Not caring about any physical features but only focusing on the character behind that instead – it sounds really nice.”

Dean takes a minute to mull this over in his head. His little brother sure has a point here. Dean has no clue how Castiel even looks like and somehow he still considers him one of the most beautiful people he ever met. His kindness, his humor, his compassion – it paints the picture of a wonderful human being.

He might have a crooked nose or black teeth or even a clubfoot, but Dean can't imagine this derogating his opinion on the guy.

He would still be beautiful.

“Why are you asking?” Sam wonders, his gaze fixed on Dean. He's obviously trying for nonchalant, but on the other hand he most certainly saw something in his brother's face that made him beyond curios.

Dean chews on his bottom lip. He could still dismiss the whole thing, make up a fairy tale about reading a story with the protagonists falling in love with each other only via letters, and Sam probably would buy it in the end, however, Dean feels a surprising urge to spill some beans. This thing between him and Castiel has been in the dark for so long and Dean kinda wants to share this with people he loves.

And there is no one he loves more in this world than his brother.

“There is someone …” Dean eventually confesses, still a little hesitant. “We've been exchanging letters for a few months now … and since a while I've got these weird –”

He points at his chest area, hoping that Sam would understand he's talking about his heart beating faster and his stomach jolting back and forth whenever he's thinking about that person.

Thankfully Sam seems to get him just fine as his eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

Dean merely offers a half-shrug, not really sure how to respond, and tries not to blush. He probably wouldn’t have heard the end of that anytime soon.

Instead of the usual teasing, though, Sam smiles at him softly. “That’s wonderful.”

He seems genuinely happy for Dean.

Figures.

But then the smile faints, most likely in the moment when Sam suddenly remembers that Dean is betrothed and whoever he is currently writing letters to won’t have a future with the prince anyway, no matter the feelings involved.

It’s an absolutely valid train of thoughts when you don’t have all the facts.

“It’s amazing to experience something like that,” Sam says nonetheless, now noticeable sorrow in his voice. “Even if …”

He licks his lips, apparently a bit uncomfortable now.

“Sammy …”

“Maybe you should tell Father,” Sam suggests, cutting his brother right off. “He’s a reasonable man and he loved Mother very much. Perhaps he would allow … well, maybe it might change some things …”

Dean can’t help a scoff. “You think Father would cancel a highly beneficial marriage deal in favor of my feelings?”

It seems very unlikely.

Sam, however, doesn’t appear to think so as his expression hardens. “Dad loves you!” he says with emphasis. “He might be a bit strict and gruff at times, but Dean, he’d never make you unhappy. He wouldn’t want to break your heart if it already belonged to another.”

“Sammy -”

“I mean, you like that person, right?”

Dean thinks about Castiel, about all those wonderful letters, and he feels his cheeks heat when he confesses, “Yes.”

“You love them.” It’s not a question.

Dean, however, finds himself wincing. “I never said -”

“But you do!” Sam interrupts harshly. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You’ve been acting strange for quite a while now, man. You seem happier, more carefree. You’re smiling an awful lot. And just the other day, when that noblewoman basically pressed her impressive cleavage into your face, you didn’t even pay her any attention.” Sam tilts his head. “And that wasn’t just you respecting your betrothal in public or whatever. No, you genuinely weren’t interested. You looked like your mind had been on something - or someone - else as soon as she started to try to wrap your around her finger.”

Dean remembers that lady vividly. She had been beautiful, exactly his type, and obviously very willing to get quite acquainted with him. No one would’ve blamed him for taking her up on her offer, as long as they would’ve stayed discreet about it. Everyone knows arranged marriages are simply deals on paper and no one expects you to be faithful to someone you don’t even know.

It’s just an arrangement, foremost, nothing more.

Having lovers, before and even after the wedding, is nothing uncommon. Some people even seem to expect it, to a certain degree.

So yes, Dean could’ve easily taken that lady to his bedroom and spent the night with her. No one would’ve scolded him for that. As long as he would’ve kept it quiet and wouldn’t have paraded his contest around, nobody would have given a damn.

But when that woman pressed her body against his and whispered some very filthy things into his ear, Dean just felt himself recoiling. He just had been thinking about Castiel and his latest letter at that point and that woman only managed to get him annoyed for interrupting his daydreams.

That was all she did to him.

And there were more, come to think of it. Dean never lacked in suitors and in the past he indulged himself in some harmless fun here and there. But for a while now it had stopped entirely. He hadn’t even considered it, although offers were made.

Nobody allured to him.

And he tried to convince himself that he just had gotten picky over time, but the hard truth is that there has been only one person on his mind for way longer than he cares to admit.

When did that happen?

“You’re in love, dumbass,” Sam jerks him out of his thoughts. “You really are.”

Huh.

Maybe Sam is honestly onto something here.

“And if you’d tell Dad …” Sam sighs. “He doesn’t want you to miss your chance on love and be unhappy for the rest of your days. Our contract with Michael is solid and very beneficial for both sides, even without the marriage. They will see reason -”

“Sammy -”

“They’re not heartless, you know?” Sam continues, totally ignoring his brother. “Who wants a miserable heir of the throne anyway? They could easily cancel the betrothal or find some other arrangement -”

“It’s Castiel, dumbass!”

Sam stops his rambling abruptly and blinks at his brother, looking dumbfounded.

For a moment there is a tense silence in the room, the crackling fire the only noise to hear.

“Uh … what?” Sam eventually asks, his voice a bit high-pitched. It seems like he’s wondering whether he misheard Dean somehow.

“It’s Castiel,” Dean repeats, a smile tugging at his lips. “He’s the one I’m exchanging letters with.”

Sam’s jaw goes slack as he stares at his brother.

“But … how … when …?”

Dean can’t deny that he kinda enjoys the shocked expression on Sam’s face. “Basically since Dad and Michael arranged the whole marriage thing,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I started to write him because I wanted to get to know him a little better … and since then it’s been a regular back and forth.”

Dean finds himself smiling gently, he just can’t help himself. Writing that first letter was probably one the best decisions he ever made in his life.

Sam, meanwhile, gapes at him some more.

“So you’re in love - with your own fiancé?”

Dean grimaces hard at those words. “I’ve never said I’m in love,” he objects, feeling his cheeks heating up. “I’m not … we’re not …” He clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m just saying that I like the guy.”

Sam stays motionless for one more minute - and then a wide smile splits his face almost in half.

“This is amazing!” he exclaims, suddenly pulling his brother into a tight embrace. “I was seriously worried about you because of this entire betrothal thing, but this ? This is so much better than I hoped.”

Dean flushes while biting his lower lip. “Sammy …”

“I just want you to be happy, alright?” Sam makes himself clear. “I don’t know if you will just stay good friends with Castiel for the rest of your life or if you’re deeply in love and can’t wait to have his babies -”

Dean rolls his eyes, his face getting even hotter. “ Sam!”

“I just want you to be happy,” Sam emphasizes. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

Dean sighs, studying the earnestness in his brother’s eyes, and eventually finds himself dragging him into another hug. “Thanks, man.”

Sam grips him hard, apparently not very inclined to let go anytime soon. “How about you tell me all about him now?”

And so Dean grins and does as he’s asked.

* * * * *

For the next few weeks Dean tries to assess the whole situation with much more scrutiny.

Are he and Castiel just really good friends? Perhaps best friends even? Or is there also something else between them?

And what about Castiel? Does he feel the same way? The same uncertainty and confusion?

Dean’s unable to tell from his letters alone, he’s as bold and funny and open as ever, and Dean can’t really say whether there had been a significant change at some point. One afternoon he even finds himself comparing all the notes he ever received from Castiel, attempting to search for some clues and eventually ending up even more unsure than before.

Why does matters of the heart always have to be so complicated?

* * * * *

He gets effectively distracted, however, just a week later when reports of a bandit attack in the north reach the capital city.

Apparently a patrol of soldiers accidentally stumbled upon a camp of men who had been meeting up to raid a closeby village and a fight ensued, leaving lots of the bandits dead or scattered across the winds and many of Winchester’s soldiers wounded, right there in the middle of almost nowhere.

And one of the soldiers had been Benny.

Dean almost suffers from a freaking heart attack when he hears the news and is instantly determined to ride up north to check up on his friend. Benny’s always been at his side, his loyalty way beyond that of a regular knight, and Dean considers him family since basically forever.

There’s no way in hell that he’ll just stay behind and do nothing.

* * * * *

The king, though, doesn’t appear very supportive of Dean’s plans. From a logical point of view he certainly isn’t wrong - sending the crown prince himself into a not yet fully secured area seriously isn’t the smartest move -, but Dean couldn’t care less about inconvenient things like rationality.

Which he doesn’t hold back to emphasize.

“I don’t give a damn, Dean,” John grumbles, not amused by his son’s defiance. “You will stay far away from the north and that’s my final word! Don’t even think about defying me!”

* * * * *

Of course Dean defies his father in the end.

Because how could he not?

* * * * *

It’s way too easy to grab Impala and join a group of knights travelling up north. They don’t have the faintest idea that their king actually ordered Dean to stay in the city and so don’t even consider to question their prince’s company.

On the contrary, they don’t seem surprised at all.

The trip takes up the rest of the day and brings them fairly close to the sea. At some point Dean starts to smell the salt in the air and just knows that it isn’t very far anymore. Under better circumstances he would’ve rejoiced, enjoying the sight of the ocean which he doesn’t get to see enough for his taste, but right now he’s only focused on the village which the bandits had planned to attack and now serves as an impromptu emergency medical station.

It doesn’t take long for Dean and his soldiers to locate their injured comrades in the small school building at the southwest side. After making sure that their horses are taken care of and having to endure some security checks (considering that some of the bandits are still out there and you just never know) Dean finds himself inside, his gaze wandering over all makeshift beds spread in the wide room.

There are more than he expected, but thankfully most of the men only seem to have sustained smaller injuries. Dean notices most of them sitting up, chatting easily, or even walking around. They look a bit bruised and ruffled, however, on first glance no one appears to be in critical condition.

Including Benny.

Dean breathes a sigh of utter relief as he spots his friend on a cot on the other side of the building. Benny is propped up against the wall behind him, his right arm wrapped in a bandage and his face scratched up, but he’s alive and awake and even smiles good-naturedly at the person standing next to his bed.

At least he’s obviously not on the brink of death, as Dean had feared the whole way here.

God , that bastard really will have to pay for frightening Dean in such an awful manner.

Benny perks up when he notices the prince approaching him, his senses apparently not having suffered from the attack, and his grin only widens. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised by Dean’s appearance.

“Does your father know you’re here?” he asks instead of a proper greeting, the stupid jackass.

Dean huffs and only holds himself back from pulling the guy into a bone-crushing hug as he eyes the bandages. “By now he probably already learned about my absence.”

Benny’s smile turns crooked, his eyes glinting. “He won’t be happy with you.”

“No, he won’t.”

And it’s still worth it.

Even with seeing Benny sitting here, not dying , Dean wouldn’t ever dare to regret his decision. Benny could be totally unharmed and dancing with the prettiest girl in the village and Dean still would be glad for standing up to his father and having to face the consequences.

Benny is one of the best friends he ever had and Dean could never feel sorry for making sure he is okay.

“You’re alright, though?” Dean asks, his voice more serious now as he sits down at the end of the cot. He reaches out, unsure where it’s safe to touch without hurting the knight and accidentally shattering his bones or something, and eventually settles on clasping Benny’s shin in a gentle grip.

Benny smiles softly, seemingly touched by the prince’s concern. “I’m fine,” he promises. “A blade grazed my forearm and left a nasty flesh wound. And my shoulder doesn’t feel that great after colliding with a very brutish bandit who was probably a tree trunk in his former life or something. But I had far worse.”

Dean frowns. “That doesn’t mean -”

“I know,” Benny cuts in immediately, knowing fairly well that Dean would urge him not to belittle his pain. “But I’m really fine, believe me. They took good care of us.”

Dean certainly doesn’t doubt that, but nonetheless he can’t wait to bring him back home and let him examine by their own physicians, just to be sure.

Benny, however, as always, seems to know exactly what is going on in Dean’s head. “Don’t worry, man,” he says. “They even sent for some of the doctors from the university nearby to check us over. They know what they’re doing.”

Right.

Dean totally forgot for a moment there that the university is actually very close, on a small island right behind the border.

He feels his heartbeat picking up as his eyes sweep across the room again, his attention now focused on the men and women who are clearly holding a healer position. Dean didn’t pay them any mind before, too fixed on Benny alone, but now they appear to be everywhere , floating through the room and taking care of their patients. Like quiet and patient angels.

Dean wonders whether any of them know Castiel. Talked with him. Interacted with him. Maybe even laughed with him.

He feels kinda envious all of a sudden.

“We are all fine,” Benny continues, apparently unaware of Dean’s inner turmoil. “Those doctors have the best equipment and also the best drugs you can even think of. I mean, the stuff you gave me made me wonderfully loopy and got rid of most of the pain.”

Dean blinks a few times, fairly confused by that last statement, before he turns back toward Benny and suddenly realizes that his friend hasn’t been talking to him but obviously been addressing the guy standing right next to his cot. Dean takes a minute to realize that it’s the same man the prince had Benny seen speaking to when he arrived at the scene and who apparently had never left the knight’s side, despite Dean’s sudden appearance.

Dean feels a light blush coming his way. He totally missed the guy positioned right beside them, probably having no choice but overhearing their conversation because Dean, quite stupidly, doesn’t take the time to check his surroundings.

So much for being a skilled warrior, right?

“I can assure you that your friend is properly taking care of,” the man says with so much conviction in his voice that Dean can’t do anything else but believe him. “I’m making personally sure of that.”

Dean feels a shiver running down his spine at the sound of that impossibly deep voice.

Damn.

“So don’t worry, brother,” Benny says with a smirk. “I’m getting the luxury treatment.”

Dean merely nods dumbly as he glances at the physician - and is met with a soothing smile and the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

Ridiculously blue.

Double damn.

Before Dean even knows what is happening, he feels his jaw going slack while staring at the doctor and probably looking like an utter fool in the process.

“It’s nice to meet you, though,” the man adds, almost as an afterthought, as he holds out his hand in greeting. “My name is Emmanuel.”

Chapter Text

For way too long Dean loses himself in the bluest blue he has ever seen.

He just can’t help himself, he feels like he’s drowning in those otherworldly pools so deep nobody can be sure to ever see the surface again. Dean’s quite certain the ground could crumble around him and he wouldn’t notice a single thing.

Eventually, though, Benny next to him clearing his throat very pointedly jerks Dean out of his reverie. The prince blushes like crazy instantly as his other senses are finally coming back alive and his surroundings suddenly taking a shape once more. There are people and noises and smells all of a sudden and Dean realizes that the world didn’t simply stop abruptly - although it certainly felt that way.

“Um …” Dean blinks, staring into Emmanuel’s bright eyes. The man seems patient, ready to stand there for a fucking eternity, so it seems, as he waits for the prince to introduce himself. “I’m, uh … I’m Victor,” Dean finally says, hoping that the actual Victor back in Winchester won’t mind having his name borrowed for a moment.

Emmanuel’s smile softens, apparently not questioning Dean’s statement at all, while Benny raises a brow in surprise and eyes him intently, but thankfully keeps his mouth shut.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Victor,” Emmanuel states. “Benny and the other knights can use all the support they can get.”

Dean merely nods, too afraid to use his voice and make a fool of himself.

Emmanuel, however, doesn’t seem to notice Dean’s discomfort as he gifts him with one dazzling smile, probably more powerful than any weapon on earth, before turning back toward Benny and probably continuing the conversation Dean had interrupted earlier with his appearance.

For the whole time Dean only stares, like a freaking idiot, and studies the way Emmanuel uses his hands to describe something or how his eyes crinkle when he smiles way too intensely. Dean doesn’t register one single word that is spoken, way too enraptured by this man in front of him.

Most of the time he even forgets to breathe.

And in the end, when Emmanuel excuses himself to look after another patient, shooting one last, soft look in Dean’s direction before heading away, Dean stares after him for way too long.

He obviously lost all his subtlety somewhere along the way.

“Victor ?” Benny asks as soon as Emmanuel is out of earshot.

Dean pulls a face and forces his brain to come back to the present. “That’s the first name that came to my mind,” he defends himself, fidgeting awkwardly. “I mean, I can’t just throw around my real one, can I?”

Benny tilts his head in thought. “Well …”

“There are still some bandits on the loose and my father will already be majorly pissed that I disobeyed him,” Dean reminds the knight through gritted teeth. “If I’d dare to broadcast my presence here to every possible kidnapper out there, my father will never let me out of the castle ever again!”

“Okay, I see your point,” Benny concedes, nodding along. “But don’t expect me to actually address you with that name, it’s too weird.”

Dean only hums in response, his eyes already back at Emmanuel’s form in the distance, not even listening to anything Benny says afterwards.

Damn.

*  *  *  *  *

For about half an hour Dean stays at Benny’s side, quietly talking (and once or twice - or maybe more than that - throwing some fleeting glances in Emmanuel’s direction). Benny describes the details of the attack and everything that happened after very thoroughly and Dean already makes mental notes to send out a fine group of soldiers first thing when he’s back in Winchester to see this area absolutely clear and secured. Under normal circumstances he would even join them himself, seeing the people of the kingdom safe with his own eyes, but considering that John most likely will put him into a dark cell for the rest of his adult life as soon as he’s gonna get home, Dean believes that endeavor quite futile and unnecessary to even think about.

Eventually, though, Benny grows tired, the exhaustion and blood loss catching up on him, and soon enough he falls asleep mid-sentence.

Dean stays at his side for a moment, just looking at him and thanking the Gods for getting him out of this mess alive and more or less whole, before in the end covering Benny with a warm blanket and starting to retreat, giving his friend some well-deserved privacy.

And just a moment later he finds himself beside Emmanuel again.

Dean can’t really say what’s happening right now, but he feels drawn to this man in a way he has never felt before. It’s somewhat weird and makes his stomach flutter in an odd way, but for whatever reason he can’t really fight it.

“I wanted to thank you again,” Dean says, watching as Emmanuel looks up from the notes in his hands. “For helping us out. You seriously didn’t need to do that.”

And still they are here. Taking care of strangers who technically aren’t even their own people.

A soft smile spreads across Emmanuel’s face at the gratitude in Dean’s voice. “There’s no need. We are physicians. Healers.” He shrugs his shoulders casually. “That’s what we are supposed to do.”

Dean knows it’s not as easy as that and that’s why he appreciates these men and women coming out here, with a still potential threat breathing down their necks, even more.

“I heard great things about the university,” Dean says. “It’s a very fine institution and now I see for myself that the people are even more giving and compassionate than I could ever imagine.”

Emmanuel’s lowers his gaze, a beautiful pinkish color tinting his cheeks.

Damn, that guy is absolutely gorgeous.

For a minute Dean finds himself captivated in the moment again, just studying Emmanuel, drinking up everything about him - the inhuman blue of his irises, the spark in his eyes, the light stubble, the curve of his neck, the surprisingly muscular thighs - and almost getting lost in it.

God, what the hell?

Just the other day he was talking with Sam about developing feelings for Castiel - his fiancé - and now he’s here, ogling a man he just met!

Granted, physical attraction is just that - physical attraction - and you shouldn’t be ashamed of admiring someone else’s physique like that. Usually it’s harmless after all, right?

But this time … Dean can’t exactly explain it.

He feels something rumbling inside his belly and that’s seriously not just his downstairs brain talking.

No, there’s clearly something else going on … and he just can’t put his finger on it.

“I’ve got a friend at the university myself,” he suddenly finds himself blurting out. “He told me so many wonderful things about the place. For quite some time now I wanted to visit.”

Maybe that’s just it?

Emmanuel’s connection with Castiel.

They work in the same field, so it’s likely they have seen or perhaps even talked with each other. Hell, maybe they’re even friends? Castiel mentioned a couple of people he’s getting along with quite well and though Dean can’t really remember reading the name Emmanuel in any of his letters, it’s not too far-fetched to believe.

Emmanuel is probably the same age as Castiel and apparently quite the nice and caring guy. Dean can easily see those two being friends.

So perhaps that’s what Dean’s feeling right now? A bond with Castiel via Emmanuel?

Dean is almost dying to ask about Castiel, get as much details as possible, but in the end he refrains from doing so. It might be overly suspicious to ask questions about the prince residing at the university out of the blue, that’s for sure. Castiel living there isn’t exactly a state secret or anything, but it’s not common knowledge either. So for “Victor”, a “common knight”, not only knowing about that but also being weirdly curious about the royal, might raise some serious red flags.

So Dean keeps quiet, even if it kills him a little bit inside.

“Maybe someday you will find the time to stop by,” Emmanuel says with a wide smile, apparently the thought of Dean visiting the university not an entirely unpleasant one. “It’s honestly a beautiful place.”

Just the exact same words Castiel used to describe it.

Obviously Dean seriously has to drop in at some point.

Emmanuel’s eyes shine brightly as he leans a little closer, apparently something on the tip of his tongue he wants to add, but just as he’s about to open his mouth one of his colleagues calls out his name, asking for assistance with a patient.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes after shooting a glance over his shoulder and nodding at the man in acknowledgment. “I have to get back to work.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for keeping you.”

“No worries,” Emmanuel waves him off. “It’s been nice talking to you.”

Dean can’t help a freaking blush. “Um, likewise.”

Emmanuel gifts him with one last gentle look, his face so expressive that Dean doesn’t really know what to do with it, and turns on his heels to join his colleague. Dean watches him stride away, already sighing on the inside like an utter buffoon, and feeling all kinds of things he’s unable to decipher.

But before he’s got a chance to dwell on it for very long, Emmanuel suddenly halts in his movements and trains his attention back to Dean. “Would you possibly mind helping me out a little bit?”

Dean raises a brow in surprise. “Me?”

He lets his gaze wander, noticing that they’re surely not shorthanded here. Next to the physicians from the university a lot of the villagers are busy to assist as good as possible.

“I think your presence might be soothing for the knights here,” Emmanuel explains patiently. “They went through a lot and I think they’re a little overwhelmed, surrounded by so many strangers. I’m sure a familiar face would put them a little more at ease.”

A very familiar face indeed.

Dean’s straightens his back and steps at Emmanuel’s side without even a second thought. These are his people in this building, his men, and they are hurt and confused and if Dean is able to make their situation even a little better, he will do everything in his power.

“Count me in.”

*  *  *  *  *

Thankfully most of the knights aren’t injured that badly.

There are some ugly flesh wounds and annoying head injuries, but most of them got off comparatively lightly. The physicians still treat them with utmost concentration, always having late effects like infections in mind, however, they’re not on the brink of death or horribly disfigured, so Dean decides to see this as a plus.

Only one of his knights - a skilled fighter called Isaac - who had been leading the group right before the attack unfortunately got the worst of it. Dean hears the healers talking about bringing him over to the university to resume a much more intense treatment there and hopefully being able to save his highly mutilated arm. Though no one outright says it yet this could possibly end in an amputation eventually and Isaac looks freaking terrified at the mere thought.

Dean sits with him for over an hour.

At first the knights had been fairly surprised to notice their crown prince among them, but before they were able to greet him with his title and ruin his cover entirely Dean took a few of them aside and explained the situation in hushed voices. Naturally they went along with it instantly, deeming it a good idea to keep quiet about their prince’s presence, and spread the information among the other soldiers as quickly as possible.

To the effect that men like Isaac didn’t even blink at Dean standing by their bedside but casually started to address him as “Victor” instead, like they’re indeed old friends of the same rank.

Granted, Dean always kept a friendly relationship with all of his knights, but from the outside you could still see some differences in positions between them. Now, though, they nonchalantly treat them as one of their own and Dean kinda likes it that way.

Isaac, for instance, totally seems to forget with whom he’s even talking to after a while, sharing his fears and doubts and worries about his family, and Dean listens patiently, making extra sure not to dismiss him for any of the thoughts which crossed the man’s mind, no matter how far-fetched, but let him feel being taken seriously instead.

However, Dean is also quick to assure the knight that he has nothing to worry about, that he will always have a place at the king’s court, even if he wouldn’t be able to hold a sword anymore. They would never abandon one of their own - and John surely would agree with that assessment.

Dean loves seeing the worry lines on Isaac’s features slowly ease out and being replaced by relief.

The whole time Emmanuel is close by Dean’s side, on the one hand doing practical stuff like changing bandages and talking with the patients about medication and proper handling of their injuries, but more often than not he just stands aside and watches Dean interacting with the knights with rapt attention and something like awe in his gaze.

He obviously values Dean’s talent to put the soldiers at ease just by his presence and a few words a very great deal while Dean just having trouble not to blush every time he notices Emmanuel’s eyes on him.

Which happens a lot.

Though, to be honest, he isn’t that much better either. He simply can’t help it, his eyes stray toward Emmanuel on their own accord more often than not. He’s absolutely helpless against those invisible forces making him lose his train of thoughts and only focus on this beautiful man instead.

Emmanuel is kind and patient and takes all the time to listen to his patient’s questions and sorrows. Even with some of his colleagues breathing down his neck and subtly urging him to hurry up, he doesn’t sway as he blatantly ignores the healers and trains his sole attention on the hurt knights instead.

Yeah, the guy is seriously an amazing physician, not only caring about the injuries but the people as well.

And Dean … God, he can’t even describe the onslaught of emotions. Sometimes there's just something so familiar about him, like he’s known Emmanuel since forever and not only a few hours. It seems confusing and wonderful and irritating all at once and Dean has no freaking idea how to deal with this.

Part of himself wants to hide in a dark corner as fast as possible, the other part dies to grab the man and kiss him senseless, and the the most important one feels so freaking guilty because there is Castiel and Dean is kinda crazy about him.

So what the hell is happening?

*  *  *  *  *

In the end Dean doesn’t have much time to mull this over in his head since not long after Emmanuel announces that he’s about to set out to return to the university fairly shortly.

Dean merely blinks a few times. “You’re leaving?”

“Isaac should receive the proper treatment as fast as manageable,” Emmanuel states. “And we have to heed the tides, otherwise we won’t be able to return to the island for many hours.”

Right.

Dean didn’t even think about that, but now it makes perfect sense.

And of course he wants Isaac to get the best care and hopefully come back healthy and whole, but the thought of Emmanuel leaving and Dean maybe never seeing him again makes the prince’s chest hurt in a very uncomfortable way.

“I would ask you to accompany us, but I’m sure you don’t want to leave Benny behind,” Emmanuel says with a small (and somehow wistful looking) smile.

Dean can’t do anything but nod.

Sure, he’d love to go the university, not only to be with Emmanuel but to see Castiel as well (and probably get rid of these very puzzling feelings for the former just by the sight of his fiancé), but it’s true, he isn’t able to simply abandon Benny. And, more importantly, his father would have an even bigger freakout than he most likely already has right now.

He would probably send an entire freaking army to drag his son out of the university and bring his sorry ass back home and Dean honestly can’t have that. He would never live this down ever .

So eventually Dean tells himself it’s likely for the best anyway, because he has a fiancé, for crying out loud, a damned amazing one even, and Emmanuel is only making things complicated.

However, that doesn’t change the fact that his throat cords up as Emmanuel visits Benny one last time, gives him a thorough lecture how he’s supposed to treat his wounds to avoid infection and leaves a pile of tinctures and salves as well as a long instruction manual behind.

“I wish you the best of luck,” Emmanuel says softly. “To the both of you.”

His gaze digs itself right through Dean’s defenses and grabs his soul, making the prince gasp in surprise and blush all over.

Dammit all to hell.

A crease appears on Emmanuel’s forehead, like he’s realizing something and wants to share it, but eventually he merely shakes his head, like he’s chiding himself for something, and turns his back to them.

“Goodbye,” he mumbles, sounding a bit like those words hurt him deeply, and vanishes before anyone can think better of it.

One moment he is still there, the next he has disappeared into the crowd.

And Dean feels like something breaks inside of him.

*  *  *  *  *

“Damn, brother, you’re really gone on the guy, huh?”

Benny sounds surprisingly gentle, not at all teasing like Dean had expected.

The prince sighs heavily. “I barely know him.”

Even if, for some reason, it feels differently.

Benny, however, merely scoffs. “That doesn’t matter. I knew my Andrea for about five minutes before I was sure I’d marry her someday.” He shrugs. “Time doesn’t matter. When you know, you know.”

Dean bites his bottom lip. “And you seem to forget that I’m betrothed.”

Benny grimaces as though it seriously slipped his mind for a moment there. “Things can change …” he mumbles, though, probably unsure what to say, but also invested in Dean’s feelings.

The thing is, however, Dean doesn’t want things to change.

Yes, Dean felt a weird connection with Emmanuel, but Castiel is the one he is about to marry. He thinks about all their letters in the last few months, about the emotions blooming inside of him at the mere thought of the words exchanged between each other, and that’s what matters.

He knows Castiel, in a way he never knew anyone before.

Nobody can change that, not even gorgeous and kind men like Emmanuel.

“Well, at least you know where to find the guy if you were ever about to change your mind,” Benny pipes in, gesturing at all the medication. “He’s seriously dedicated, that’s for sure. You really have to help me with those, by the way, my head isn’t ready to handle all of this.”

Dean nods along, happy to have some distraction from his confusing feelings, and takes a look at the instruction manual in Benny’s hand to get a first clue of what to pay attention to.

And then he freezes right there on the spot.

Like a freaking ice sculpture.

Because that handwriting -

Fuck.

He knows it!

By heart, to be more precise. It’s been part of his life for months now. Every single week …

FUCK.

Before Dean even knows what he’s doing he’s rips the paper out of Benny’s hand and totally ignores the knight’s absolutely bewildered expression as he leaps to his feet and rushes outside, as fast as his legs can carry him. In the corner of his eyes he notices men and women hastily jumping out of the way and looking at him like he’s some sort of mad man, but at this point Dean couldn’t care less about startling some people.

He’s got far more important things to worry about.

As he stumbles outside, into the bright sun blinding him for a moment, Dean desperately lets his gaze wander, his heart actually somersaulting, and tries to check every single face in his near vicinity.

Emmanuel couldn’t have gone far, right?

But to Dean’s despair there are so many people outside the building, huddled up in large groups and making an unrestricted view quite impossible, and for a freaking eternity - or at least it feels that way - he can neither spot the man itself nor one of his colleagues.

There are only people, strangers, standing in his path, not caring at all that they’re making things complicated.

No no no no no.

Dean can’t just let this slip right through his fingers.

He just can’t.

Not without knowing -

Thankfully, just as desperation is about to take over and knock him off his feet, he suddenly spots Emmanuel’s tan-colored coat at the edge of his gaze, right there at the stables.

Dean releases a big sigh of relief, thanking every deity who is willing to listen in, before rushing over, in his haste almost losing his balance as he comes to an inelegant halt right before a very surprised looking Emmanuel.

“Victor,” he greets the prince, his tone a little wary. “Did you forget something?”

Dean takes a deep breath, looking right into those piercingly blue eyes, and practically shouts into the man’s face, “Did you write these instructions?”

He shoves the piece of paper into Emmanuel’s line of view, his hand beginning to tremble as he nervously awaits the answer.

Because if he’d confirm, that would mean …

That would mean …

Shit.

Emmanuel, however, merely tilts his head and wrinkles his forehead in confusion. “What?”

“Did you write this?” Dean emphasizes, waving the paper around. “With your own hand? Or was it someone else? Some student at the university maybe?”

Since that’s still a possibility, right?

Perhaps Castiel wrote these instructions a while ago as a general guideline for how to handle all those different potions and Emmanuel just took it with him. After all, Castiel helped to create a lot of this stuff, so it’s not crazy to assume …

But then Dean hears, “Yes, I did write this, with my own hand,” and he feels the air leaving his lungs all at once.

“Oh my God!” Dean exclaims. “ OH MY GOD!”

And then he laughs, loud and madly, because life is just freaking ridiculous.

The whole time he was mooning over his own fiancé!

Without even knowing it!

It does, at least, explain that sensation of familiarity around Emmanuel, there is no denying that. Unconsciously Dean probably already somehow suspected the truth, but his brain was too slow to catch up.

Damn, life is really weird.

“Are you alright?” Emmanuel - no, Castiel! - asks, his voice filled with concern. He’s probably afraid Dean has some kind of heart attack right here in front of him or something.

God .

Dean feels his head spinning and thoughts and emotions swirling in his head, creating a dangerous mixture of confusion and feelings.

He seriously isn’t prepared for this!

So instead of finding some composure and act at least somewhat close to his station, he just can’t keep himself from blurting, “I’m betrothed!” right into Castiel’s face, like an utter moron.

Castiel arches a brow at that. Whatever it was he expected Dean to reply, this certainly wasn’t it.

“Um … alright?” he says tentatively. “Congratulations?”

He seems highly bewildered by the whole situation and Dean suddenly sees the often mentioned uncertainty in regards of certain social interactions. Castiel is obviously wondering right now whether this is something normal he should’ve seen coming and is already starting to get really uncomfortable for not having the faintest idea how to react to this.

Dean feels his heart swell at this sight. It’s exactly how he pictured it - and at the same so very different.

“We haven’t really met yet,” Dean finds himself rambling, absolutely hypnotized by Castiel’s gaze. “But we have been exchanging letters for quite some time and it’s going very well.”

There is something gleaming in Castiel’s eyes now. He doesn’t really appear to have caught up on it yet, but he undoubtedly is relating to the situation and nods along.

“And for a while now I’m so eager to finally see him, you know?” Dean steps closer, his stomach churning in anticipation. “And then … then I lied to him.”

Castiel blinks, apparently not having expected that twist in the story. “You lied?”

“Yes, I lied,” Dean confirms, starting to squirm nervously. “I mean, I had my reasons. Very good reasons, to be honest. I’m actually not supposed to be here, considering the area hasn’t been fully secured yet and everything, and my father will kill me for this, I can assure you of that - God, he’s gonna be so mad -”

“Victor!” Castiel cuts in, probably hoping to prevent Dean from talking himself into a frenzy.

Dean, however, only smiles crookedly. “That’s just it, you know? My name isn’t Victor.” He shrugs confronted with Castiel’s surprised expression. “But as the heir of the throne I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to broadcast my real name like this. I mean, I guess that’s why you’re using a pseudonym as well, right?”

Castiel stays silent for a moment, apparently busy wrapping his head around Dean’s statement, but eventually his eyes widen in shock as he finally gets it.

For a minute or two he opens and closes his mouth, obviously uncertain how to react to the whole situation and incapable of finding the right words in the process.

In the end, though, he whispers, “Dean?”

Dean smiles softly in response, the thrill of hearing Castiel saying his name way more intense than he ever imagined.

“Hey, Cas.”

Chapter Text

For what feels like an eternity Castiel simply stares at him with lively eyes, his gaze flickering up and down, as though he’s trying to assess everything , even the tiniest detail, while simultaneously looking like a man not exactly sure whether he’s dreaming or not.

Dean sure as hell shares that sentiment.

Over the last couple of months he fantasized about meeting Castiel in so many different ways, but never in a million years he would’ve thought it would eventually happen like this.

Who would’ve even imagined such a thing?

“God, I can’t believe you’re really here,” Dean finds himself breaking the silence at some point, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is just so …”

He’s not even able to pick the right words.

Are they even right words to begin with? Dean only feels deeply overwhelmed by the whole situation.

“You’re here ,” he says once more, mainly because you can’t point it out too much in Dean’s opinion. But just a moment later, as his own statement starts to settle in, he begins to frown. “Wait, why the hell are you here?”

Castiel seems clearly puzzled by the sudden change in Dean’s tone and wrinkles his forehead in confusion. “What?”

“What are you even doing here?” Dean repeats, now an edge in his voice as he studies his fiancé reproachfully. “Do I have to remind you that there are bandits out there? You can’t just walk around like nothing ever happened. Do you have any idea how freaking dangerous this is?”

Castiel doesn’t seem amused by Dean’s words and scowls at the prince. “ You’re here, too.”

“ I’m a trained warrior,” Dean states with emphasis. “ You’re not!”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Don’t you remember that I can make a grown man unconscious just by using a specific pressure point at his neck?”

“That doesn’t mean -”

“Dean!” Castiel cuts in, his tone so authorative that Dean finds himself shutting his mouth instantly. “This is the first time we ever meet in person. Do you really want to fight already?”

Dean releases a breath of air and shuts his eyes for a minute to gather this thoughts. Castiel, as always, is absolutely right. Dean might not like the idea of his fiancé putting himself in danger, but it’s not like he can change anything about that now.

And if he’s being honest, he isn’t actually that surprised to begin with. Castiel is the kind of man who truly cares about other people and has no problem to ignore potential threats in the process.

Nonetheless, Dean can’t say he likes it.

“You’re right,” he concedes though. “I’m just …” He rubs his neck. “I’m just worried, I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s features soften immediately, his gaze turning so warm Dean’s heart reacts by almost leaping out of his chest, and he steps closer to his fiancé without second guessing himself. Suddenly there’s barely a space left between them, their breaths starting to intermingle, as Castiel unashamedly lays his hand onto Dean’s cheek, his touch sending sparks down the prince’s spine.

“Thank you for your concern,” Castiel whispers gently. “And for the record, I didn’t come here completely unprotected. As always I have been accompanied by Michael’s guard dogs the whole time, them watching over me and not leaving me out of their sight even though it’s absolutely unnecessary.”

He points at the group of physicians readying their horses and sure enough there are two guys in black cloaks who stick out like sore thumbs as they don’t lift a single finger to help the working party but instead keep an eagle eye on Castiel the entire time, assessing Dean intently as if they’re more than prepared to rip the prince into shreds if he’d dare to even look at Castiel funny.

In his letters Castiel had complained many times about those vigorous security measures, but from the beginning it had been Michael’s major demand for allowing Castiel to live at the university in the first place. Castiel is still sulking about this, even years later, but Dean can’t bring himself to agree to this. He’s actually fairly happy to see Castiel looked after and probably would’ve done the same in Michael’s position.

“As you can see, nothing to worry about,” Castiel says. “Though you are very sweet for doing so nonetheless, Dean.”

Dean can’t do anything else but blush from top to bottom at the affection in Castiel’s voice and pray to all the Gods listening in that he wouldn’t make an utter fool of himself.

“I can’t really believe you’re seriously here,” Castiel whispers, awe in his tone as his fingertips brush over Dean’s skin. “I mean, there was just something about ‘Victor’ … it felt so peculiar.”

Dean certainly knows what he means. “Like we’ve known each other forever.”

Castiel seems astounded for a moment, apparently not having expected that Dean might understand his feelings, before his lips spread into a warm smile. “I was so mesmerized, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you. And yet at the same time I felt so guilty.”

Dean chuckles. It’s good to know he hasn’t been the only one. “Me too,” he agrees. “I was beating myself up over this like crazy. I thought I lost my mind or something.”

Castiel tilts his head, his impossibly blue eyes seemingly absorbing every single detail of Dean’s face. “You’re exactly like I imagined you to look,” he says. “And at the same time nothing at all.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip and wonders how often Castiel sat quietly in his room and tried to picture his fiancé.

“I might have asked both Garth and Aaron what you look like,” Castiel admits, a chuckle in his tone. “Especially Aaron’s description was very in-depth. I believe he has a little crush on you.”

Dean huffs at that. “Who wouldn’t? I’m adorable.”

“You are,” Castiel agrees, not even a single hint of mock in his voice. No, he seems dead serious, as though there’s no other explanation available.

Dean’s heart jumps wildly in his ribcage, ready to burst out.

“Um …” Dean lowers his gaze, not really sure what to reply. He wants to reciprocate. To tell Castiel that he’s exactly like Dean imagined him to be and simultaneously nothing at all. That he’s gorgeous, both inside and out, and that Dean’s having a very hard time believing he could ever be that lucky.

But he’s not certain he could ever find the words to describe his feelings. At least not while looking into those otherworldly eyes and sensing your focus slipping.

Damn, sharing your personal emotions via letters is so much easier than doing it face to face.

“I pictured our first meeting many times before, in many different ways,” Castiel confesses. “But I have to admit reality truly took me by surprise.”

Dean can’t help a snort. That’s the understatement of the century, that’s for sure. “Yeah, it’s nothing like I expected at all.”

Most of the time Dean imagined it to be the official affair everyone else has been anticipating. Castiel leaving the university after finishing his studies and arriving at Winchester, welcomed by a whole freaking parade and having to shake a lot of important hands before, almost like on a side note, being properly introduced to his future husband.

Yeah, most of the time Dean didn’t really think their first real meeting would be a intimate, personal thing but an entire spectacle for the whole kingdom instead.

Here and there, though, he allowed himself to fantasize about different scenarios. Dean finding some time to sneak into the university and sitting in the back of one of Castiel’s lectures, listening to every super smart word he’s saying. Or Castiel, in return, coming to Winchester for a visit under a cover, not having told anyone about his plans, and rescuing Dean from some boring council session by throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him out of the room.

Dean never exactly believed any of this might happen for real, but it was fun imagining it.

But now they are here.

And Dean has no clue how to react to this properly.

“I had a speech planned, you know?” Castiel says, his touch still burning into Dean’s skin. “When we would first meet.”

Dean raises his brow. “Yeah?”

“It’s heartfelt and profound,” Castiel explains. “Probably one of the best things I’ve ever created.” He smiles crookedly. “And now, for the hell of it, I can’t remember a single damn thing.”

For a moment Dean doesn’t know how that is supposed to make him feel, but just a second later he feels a big lump forming in his throat, making it almost impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“You always have been full of surprises, Dean,” Castiel says, his tone so soft it feels like velvet is brushing over Dean’s skin. “And it seems this right here is not an exception.”

Dean swallows audibly.

Damn, he just wants to grab this man and take him home with him already.

Or at least the next best thing.

“You … you maybe got a few minutes?” he asks, pointing at a vague direction behind himself. “Perhaps find a quiet spot and talk?”

Far away from all those people around them and the prying eyes of Castiel’s security guards in the background who still look at Dean like they want to eat him alive until nothing will be left of him to remember him by.

Castiel, however, sighs deeply. “I would love to,” he admits. “But Isaac … we really need to heed the tides to get him to the university as soon as possible.”

Right.

For a moment Dean totally forgot about that.

“I mean, I could send my colleagues with Isaac and wait until the next tide,” Castiel proposes tentatively, apparently calculating the whole thing quickly in his head. “But I’ve been with Isaac since the beginning and I really don’t want to leave him now of all things …”

“No please, you should go,” Dean cuts in. “It’s important.”

Sure, Dean would love to spend more time with him. Hell, he can’t imagine anything better, to be honest.

But Isaac needs all the support he can get and on top of that Dean honestly wants to see Castiel out of the danger zone.

Castiel, though, still looks torn, his hand resting on Dean’s now, his grip determined like he doesn’t want to let go anytime soon. “Perhaps I could -”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean promises as he spreads his mouth into a smile, hoping fiercely that it doesn’t appear too disappointed. “Yeah, it sucks. But we kinda did spend a lot of time together, right? I mean, granted, both of us didn’t really know …”

“It doesn’t exactly count,” Castiel chips in.

“You should go with Isaac,” Dean says softly. “For his sake, for my sake, for the sake of your grumpy bodyguards …”

Castiel rolls his eyes very dramatically at that.

“We’ve got a lifetime together,” Dean reminds him, his stomach beginning to flutter all of a sudden. “Don’t you forget that. Just a few more months and we’re gonna see each other every single day.”

His smile turns genuine at the image. To see those blue eyes daily - that seems like a really nice thought.

And it appears to appease Castiel as well. His features morph into a truly gentle expression as he’s picturing their future together and before Dean even knows what’s happening Castiel suddenly leans forward and presses a soft kiss onto the prince’s cheek.

“You’re right,” he whispers. “A lifetime.”

He steps back, putting some distance between them, while Dean can do nothing else but stare at him with wide eyes and feel his face heating up in record time.

“Then goodbye for now,” Castiel says. “We’ll see each other soon.”

Without waiting for any reply (which, admittedly probably would’ve taken a long while with Dean’s brain having been fried and all) he turns around and joins the group of travellers who just about finished up their last preparations.

Dean watches Castiel climb his horse absolutely gracefully and set it into motion, instantly followed by his colleagues, soldiers and a small makeshift carriage that’s keeping Isaac in a comfortable position.

Despite everything Dean finds himself shooting his knight a reassuring smile before eventually waving at Castiel like an utter moron unable to function properly.

Castiel, however, obviously deems it kinda adorable or whatever as he waves back until the point his caravan is swallowed by the forest.

And Dean …

Dean stands frozen on his spot for a long while, attempting to assort his crazy feelings, and wonders what the hell just happened.

Is this really his life?

* * * * *

As expected John is absolutely furious with Dean and spends the first twenty minutes of their reunion yelling at his son and cursing his lack of loyalty in rather graphic detail.

Dean, however, couldn’t care less, to be honest. He’s still in some sort of daze, even a day later, and instead of cowering and submitting he finds himself smiling like a lunatic, not at all affected by his father’s raised voice.

At some point John obviously starts to worry about Dean’s sanity and bans him to his room for the time being.

Once again, it doesn’t matter to the prince.

Under normal circumstances he would’ve fought tooth and nail. More than anything he loves his freedom and the idea of being confined to his chamber like a petulant teenager would’ve made him mad beyond belief. Not to mention frustrated considering the boredom associated with that kind of house arrest.

But now Dean is almost happy to do so.

He uses the time going through all of Castiel’s old letters, drinking in all the things his fiancé said in the past and trying to imagine all the different scenarios with the actual picture of Castiel in his head.

It’s fairly entertaining and he doesn’t even notice the time passing.

He’s only been startled out of his reverie when suddenly Garth appears on his doorstep, just a few days later, with a letter from Castiel in his hands.

Dean doesn’t wait around but rips it open instantly, his eyes flying over the written words before his brain is even capable of catching up.

Hello Dean,

I’m sorry this letter is way shorter than you’re used to, but Garth was just about to set out back to Winchester when we arrived back at the university and I hastily made him to stay for just a few minutes more to get a quick message back to you.

Well, as mentioned, we got back without any trouble whatsoever (no bandits in sight!) and we will immediately start giving Isaac the treatment he needs. I’m going to keep you updated, as my professor will do so with your court physician, so you won’t miss anything.

And once again, though the circumstances have been far from happy, I feel so glad to have finally met you, even if it may have not been for a long time. Every minute, every SECOND, with you has been a gift and I can’t wait to declare Winchester my home and be with you every single day.

Until we see each other again!

Love,

Castiel

(P.S.: As I’m writing this I’m suddenly starting to realize that the beautiful black mare I’ve noticed in the stables has been Impala, right? She’s truly magnificent, Dean, and I’m looking forward for us to properly be introduced! She’ll only get the best apples from me, you can already prepare her for that.)

Dean’s gaze wanders over all the words several times, especially getting stuck at the Love, Castiel more than once, and he decides right there on the spot that he can’t just wait months for them to see each other again.

Not a chance in hell!

* * * * *

“So let me get this straight? You have every intention of sneaking out of the castle, again , to meet with Castiel?”

Sam furrows his brows, looking all kinds of skeptical after Dean has revealed his plan to him during their regular late night snacks right in front of the fireplace in Dean’s chamber.

“Don’t act like this is a ridiculous idea,” Dean says, pouting at his brother. “This time it won’t be a headless spur-of-the-moment thing. I have a plan.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “A fragile plan, at best.”

Dean scoffs. “Father will be leaving the day after tomorrow to visit Lady Kate. That’s my chance.” He shrugs like it’s the easiest thing. “I’m just scheduling a patrol to the north, join them and eventually split up near the university. And on their way back I’m gonna pop up again and travel back to Winchester with them.”

“You don’t know how long Father will be gone,” Sam protests, obviously not impressed with his brother. “What if it’ll be just two days, for instance? You won’t make it back in time and Dad won’t be amused if he won’t find you anywhere near.”

Dean only smiles. Sweet, innocent Sam.

“Oh my dear little brother,” he says, patting Sam’s head and ignoring the following scowl. “You do realize that Dad is fairly smitten with the lovely Lady Kate, right? The last time he visited her he was gone for more than a week. This time it easily might be even longer.”

Sam’s cheeks turn red at Dean’s tone. “But you don’t know that for sure.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

For the chance of seeing Castiel again? Hell, he will face the wrath of his father for all eternity.

“I might have an even crazier idea,” Sam grumbles. “Why don’t you just ask Father?”

Right.

As if that would turn out great.

“He’s still pretty mad with me,” Dean reminds him. “He wouldn’t listen to anything I’d have to say, believe me. Or even grant me wishes.”

Sam, however, doesn’t appear convinced. “You do realize how important this marriage is to Father, don’t you? Yes, he might still be pissed with you and doesn’t even allow you to step out on the courtyard, but dammit , Dean, don’t you see? You don’t have to keep this a secret or anything. Both Dad as well as Michael would be over the moon to know what’s going on.” He leans back in his seat and studies Dean intently. “They would never forbid you from seeing each other. Hell, they would encourage it beyond anything you can even imagine.”

Dean sighs. “I know.”

“Then why -?”

“Because it would be all about them ,” Dean explains with emphasis. “About Dad and Michael and their alliance. About contracts and deals and courtiers. About putting up a freaking show for both our kingdoms. They would make such a big deal out of it.” Dean shudders at the mere thought. “It wouldn’t be about Cas and me anymore. Not really, at least. Dad and Michael would turn this into a big circus or whatever and I … I just want it to be something between the two of us, you know? Just Cas and me and no one else.”

No eyes to watch them all the time. No people to assess every step they take.

“Do you understand what I’m getting at?” Dean asks. “I just want it to be like in the letters. Only us.”

Sam merely stares at him for a moment, his face unreadable, before eventually a smile starts to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Look at you, all sweet and romantic …”

Dean huffs. “Oh, come on -”

“No seriously, what have you done with my brother?”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are. Or at all .”

But Sam’s grin only widens and before Dean even knows what’s happening his brother he’s once again being pulled into a surprise hug so hard his ribs starts to groan in protest.

“ Sam !”

“I’m just really happy for you,” Sam states. “I still think it’s a stupid plan and all, but it will be an amazing story for your children and grandchildren one day, so I’ll give it a pass.”

Dean can’t blushing at the picture. “Sammy …”

“Just go and meet your Prince Charming,” Sam urges, his grip tightening. “Don’t think about anything else.”

And Dean sure as hell intends to do just that.

Chapter Text

In the end it’s almost too easy.

John leaves as scheduled to meet up with Lady Kate and in his eagerness to see her again he even forgets to give Dean yet another lecture about responsibility and duty and whatnot. He simply hugs his sons goodbye and rides off with a small party before the sun even had a chance to rise properly.

Afterwards, without his father’s close supervision, Dean has no trouble whatsoever to join the patrol traveling up north just later the very same day. He still does so at the very last minute in an attempt to avoid Bobby’s radar as good as possible, but overall it’s only smooth sailing from then on.

The soldiers question Dean’s presence not even for a single second. It’s not completely unusual for the prince to join some patrols and missions here and there and they all know that Dean didn’t take the bandit attack on his knights, including Benny, lightly. Therefore they’re absolutely not surprised to have their crown prince with them.

Eventually splitting up with them and traveling to the university turns out to be a piece of cake as well. After announcing he would like to visit Isaac and get updated on his status two of his soldiers instantly jump on the occasion to join him. Partly, of course, to protect the heir of the throne and not let him ride around potentially dangerous territory all alone, but mainly because they’re as keen as Dean to find out about their comrade.

So just the next morning they agree on a meeting point three days later before saying their respective goodbyes for the time being and riding off in different directions.

And Dean takes a very deep breath as he steers Impala in the direction of the university, his heart dancing wildly in his ribcage.

Damn , he can’t wait.

-----

The university is just as impressive as Castiel described it in his letters.

The island isn’t that far from the shores, so they’re able to already see the frame of the building from afar as they reach the beach, and after a mildly uncomfortable boat trip (which the horses didn’t enjoy at all ) the complex turns out to be even more magnificent up close.

It’s been a castle before, some summer residence for one of the kings from the Old Age, and it’s been Castiel’s great-grandfather who restored the building eventually and transformed it into the source of knowledge it is now today. People from all around the world travel to this place to seek and spread wisdom.

Dean is also pleased to see that security is an important part of the whole operation as well. They get checked several times on different stations and in the end are asked to leave their weapons behind in order to enter the university’s premises. And though Dean feels a bit naked without at least a knife on his body, he’s more than happy to do so if it means getting faster to Castiel.

The building itself is huge and old and Dean’s pretty sure he would’ve gotten lost soon enough. Thankfully they’re greeted by a young man - the assistant of the head physician in charge of Isaac’s case - who leads them to some living quarters especially designed for guests like Dean and his men and tells them to rest and make themselves comfortable. The knights, after learning that they wouldn’t be able to visit Isaac soon anyway because of his currently ongoing treatment, sure find themselves enjoying the simple beds and the plates of bread and cheese shortly afterwards delivered to them from the kitchen.

Dean takes a moment to relax as well and wash the grime from their journey off his face, but soon enough he’s wandering the hallways again, searching for the main reason why he came here in the first place. It’s no less big and confusing a second time around, but Dean always had a good sense of direction and though he’s got no idea where he’s heading, at least he would have no problem finding his way back to where he came from eventually.

Not that he intends to walk within these walls all alone for very long.

And if some higher powers decided to have their finger in the pie, it’s barely no time at all as Dean finds himself confronted with a familiar face blocking his path.

A familiar and fairly unhappy looking face.

“Hey there,” Dean says nonchalantly as he grins at Castiel’s bodyguard with as much confidence as he can muster. According to the descriptions Castiel sent him via letters over the last few months he’s pretty sure this man to be Inias, one of Michael’s most loyal soldiers and obviously ready to die for the crown at any given moment.

Dean sure as hell doesn’t question that as he sees himself the target of Inias’ death glare.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, his voice clearly a weapon on its own. “Have you been following us?”

Dean raises a brow. In a way this isn’t totally untrue, he has to confess.

“Well …”

“You should go,” Inias cuts in, apparently not in the mood for anything Dean has to say. “I know exactly what you’re after and I won’t allow it.”

Dean blinks. “Listen, man -”

“No, you listen,” Inias interjects once more, his scowl deepening. “Just go back to your injured soldier friend and leave Emmanuel alone. He doesn’t want you here.”

Dean scoffs at that. “I highly doubt that.”

Inias straightens his back and though he’s just a few inches below Dean’s height he seems fairly threatening all of a sudden. “Emmanuel is betrothed,” he says with emphasis. “Betrothed to a very powerful man especially you as a knight of Winchester wouldn’t want to upset in any way. So just go before I report your misdemeanor. Trust me, you wouldn’t enjoy that.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line as amusement blooms inside of him. Apparently Inias isn’t simply here to protect Castiel’s “virtue” like some kind of chaperon but instead thinks Dean a lowly soldier thirsty for a tumble with the crown prince’s fiancé. It seems that Castiel never bothered to enlighten his personal guards about Dean’s true identity and Dean can’t help a chuckle at that revelation.

Inias, however, doesn’t seem pleased by that reaction. “You think this funny?” he growls. “You should watch out -”

“I know that Prince Castiel is betrothed,” Dean cuts him off, a smug smile on his lips. “To me , to be exact.”

He flashes the royal seal at his belt buckle, identifying him without any doubt as a member of the royal family, and seriously enjoys the look of confusion and eventually shock on Inias’ features.

“Your Highness,” he starts to splutter, his eyes going wide and round as he’s connecting the dots in his head. “I … I apologize …”

Dean waves him off right away. Sure, it might be fun to see him wallow in misery for a little longer and let him suffer, but he’s here to meet with Castiel and torturing a good man only doing his job would merely shorten the time he could spend with his fiancé.

“It’s alright,” Dean reassures him. “I’m actually very pleased to know the prince is under such vigorous protection. I have to admit I was worried from time to time, but it seems I don’t have any reason to anymore.”

Inias looks both bashful as well as still highly flustered by the whole experience and starts to fidget like a toddler not really sure what to do with all their limbs yet.

“I didn’t mean to give any offense, though,” the knight states. “I’m deeply sorry. If I would’ve known …”

Dean merely shrugs. “I know,” he says. “Don’t worry, I won’t throw you in some dark dungeon and sink the keys in the sea.”

Inias flinches a bit, like he’s not really sure whether Dean is joking or not.

“It’s nice to see you’re defending the prince from suitors as well,” he points out with a crooked smirk. “Though I hope you know this shouldn’t be part of your job description. Castiel is allowed to consort with whoever he wants to.”

It actually pains Dean to say that, but it’s nonetheless the truth. Castiel is not his property and he never will be.

Inias, meanwhile, starts to flush. “I understand, Your Highness,” he’s quick to agree. “It’s just … I know about the letters.”

Dean arches a brow. “You do, huh?”

“I’m keeping a close eye on the prince basically all the time,” Inias explains. “It’s hard not to notice.”

Dean wonders how long Inias took to figure out the originator of the letters. Or did perhaps Castiel confide in him one day, eager to find someone to talk with about this whole thing? Dean, at least, felt fairly excited when he finally spilled the truth to Sam and he can imagine that Castiel might’ve gone through something similar.

“Prince Castiel is really looking forward to come to Winchester,” Inias continues. “He even took on some extra courses, so he could finish his studies ahead of schedule.”

Dean frowns. That’s odd, Castiel never mentioned that before in his letters.

“I just know how much this alliance means to the prince,” Inias says. “How much you mean to him. So I’m determined to nip any complication in the bud. Especially keen knights of Winchester who might find themselves regretting their actions severely if they learned about ‘Emmanuel’s’ true identity.”

Dean can’t help a laugh. “So you were rather protecting me than the prince?”

Inias shrugs. “In a way.”

Dean only huffs and shake his head. He kinda likes that guy, he has to admit. At least he’s quite happy to know him at Castiel’s side.

“May I ask where I can find the prince then?” Dean wonders, letting his gaze flicker over the unremarkable hallways they’re currently standing in. “I’m assuming he’s not very far?”

Inias points at the door right behind him. “He’s giving a lecture just about now.”

Dean can’t help staring at the wooden door with way too much intensity. It’s the only thing standing between him and Castiel right now and Dean feels exceptionally exhilarated all of a sudden. Particularly when he hears dull voices sounding through the wood, making the whole experience so wonderfully real.

“How long will he be in there?” Dean tries fiercely not to sound like an excited child, but looking at the beginnings of a smirk on Inias’ features he’s not exactly sure he succeeds.

“Still about half an hour,” Inias explains.

Dean bites his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. He waited months for this opportunity, what’s half an hour in comparison? It’s not like he expected Castiel to drop everything only because of Dean’s surprise visit anyway. The guy has a freaking life and he shouldn’t put it on hold for anyone.

But just when he’s about to turn to Inias and ask for a comfortable corner where he might wait for Castiel in the meantime, the guard leans closer and suggests, “You could go inside, though, Your Highness. It’s an open lecture, everyone is welcome.”

Dean tilts his head. “Then why aren’t you in there?”

“His Highness is absolutely safe,” Inias promises, as though he seriously believes Dean might think his fiancé in any kind of danger right now. “Not to mention that Prince Castiel doesn’t appreciate us following him everywhere. So for now I’m on hallway duty while Hannah covers the grounds outside.”

It sounds like some sort of old compromise they agreed on a long time ago. By the way Castiel had voiced his continued displeasure about his security detail in his past letters many times it’s probably not that far from the truth. He couldn’t bring his bodyguards to back off completely, but at least he got them a far away as possible, considering the circumstances.

Dean sighs as his gaze wanders back to the door. It would be so easy , just a simple push of the handle and a soft shove. And then he would be with Castiel again.

With Castiel … and a bunch of students.

You can’t have everything, right?

“But if I may offer a suggestion,” Inias chimes in once more, “I would use the second door right over there. It leads to the back of the room. This way you wouldn’t disrupt the class.”

That sounds like solid advice.

“Thank you,” Dean says earnestly. “For … well, a lot of things.”

Inias merely smiles. “It’s my pleasure.”

-----

The room is comparatively small and unimpressive, but more than enough to house about twenty students and their teacher comfortably.

Dean easily finds a place in the last row, his unexpected appearance going unnoticed by almost everyone, apart from a few fleeting glances here and there. Nobody sticks around, though, and nobody looks even twice at him. They’re way too enthralled by the lecture taking place in the front of the room and Dean can’t say he blames them. 

His heart does some embarrassing somersaults as his eyes land on Castiel. 

There he is, right in his element.

Damn .

The last time they met, when Dean believed him to be ‘Emmanuel’, he never dared to look properly, always feeling bad and guilty for sneaking even a few quick looks. Granted, he still tried to soak up everything he could, but it was more of a fast and shameful affair and Dean kinda hated himself for enjoying the view.

But now, here, with just the truth between them, Dean is absolutely free to just look .

And he doesn’t miss a freaking second. Hell, he even skips blinking once or twice.

Castiel is still absolutely gorgeous, perhaps even more so than before. His hair is a mess, his blue eyes appear supernatural even from the last row, and there’s a light stubble on his face Dean has a hard time not to imagine touching, knowing fairly well that such daydreams might cause some embarrassing noises he wouldn’t want to let out in a room full of strangers.

Shit, he’s seriously a lost cause already, isn’t he?

Castiel truly will be able to do whatever the hell he wants in this marriage.

“Let’s go back to what Alfonso Rhymes said about the cycle ...” Castiel’s booming voice sounds through the entire room, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “There is very much to uncover in his theories, fascinating new angles, but also some controversial details …”

Then he goes on and rambles.

And rambles and rambles.

It takes a while for Dean to figure out that they’re currently talking about the human blood system. It’s certainly not his area of expertise, not even by a longshot, but the way Castiel is explaining the whole thing, a lively spark in his eyes the whole time, finds Dean absolutely mesmerized. 

To finally experience one of Castiel’s passionate rambles firsthand and not just in written form seems almost life-changing for Dean. Castiel appears so excited, so freaking alive as he talks about the recent scientific findings, and he’s overall the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen.

The students around him seem to agree. Every single one of them is hanging on Castiel’s lips, keen on catching every word he’s saying. Dean recognizes scientific interest and thirst for knowledge all over the place, bringing the whole room to life. Dean has no idea whether these people even know who is really teaching them (Castiel mentioned in one of his very first letters before that some of his students aren’t even aware of his royal status), but they sure as hell genuinely adore him.

For his mind, for his passion, for his way with words. For the way he’s engaging them in the discussion and is absolutely eager to hear different opinions. For validating them and making them smile and feel good about themselves at the end of the day.

Castiel certainly is the kind of teacher Dean would’ve wanted for himself back in the days.

Encouraging, skilled and a walking dream.

The whole package.

Damn , he’s truly a lucky bastard to call this man his future husband.

So lucky.

-----

Time flies by so quickly Dean actually blinks in surprise as Castiel declares the lecture over for today. He got so lost in all the descriptions and discussions and arguments he totally didn’t notice minute after minute running away from him.

He actually feels kind of disappointed to see the class finished.

The sensation, however, only lasts for a short while and most definitely evaporates for good as all the students one by one rush out of the room to haste toward their next engagement, eventually leaving Dean and Castiel alone to their own devices.

Dean grins brightly and saunters slowly to the front of the room, enjoying the fact that Castiel hadn’t even spared him a glance yet.

Still completely oblivious.

“I was wondering if you’re offering any private lessons, professor?” Dean asks, a crooked grin on his lips. “Just you and me, in your room. All alone.”

His face still buried deep in the papers in front of him Castiel merely huffs, obviously fairly annoyed one of his students seriously has the audacity to make such an ambiguous offer. He raises his head with a stern expression, most likely to tell Dean off in a very blunt and not even remotely kind way.

But just a moment later his eyes widen in shock as he recognizes the person in front of him. “ Dean !”

There so much happiness in his voice, so much affection, and Dean barely has time to figure out what this is doing to his whole system before he finds himself in Castiel’s embrace, his surprisingly strong arms wrapping him up so tightly he can’t help feeling safe and sound.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asks, his breath tingling Dean’s ear and making him shudder in the process.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” Dean tries for nonchalant, like this is overall an absolutely common occurrence, but the waver in his tone clearly gives him away. Even Castiel and his adorable inability to read most of social situations has probably no trouble at all to pick that out.

Castiel pulls back a bit and assesses the prince with a raised brow. “Does your father know you’re here?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, technically … not really.”

“Dean …”

“Does Michael know you left the university to take care of a bunch of injured knights?”

Castiel glares at him, making it crystal clear that he found a weak spot. “Touché,” he growls, the deep baritone of his voice giving Dean the good kind of goosebumps. “But seriously, what are you doing here? I’m gonna move to Winchester in just about two months. Couldn’t you wait that long?”

On impulse Dean wants to answer with something witty and sarcastic, but in the end he just goes soft under Castiel’s scrutiny and replies honestly, “No, I could not.”

Castiel clearly didn’t expect Dean’s openness, his eyes going wide at the prince’s frank statement. Closely followed by a rather beautiful blush that spreads all over his cheeks and memerizes Dean in a way he never thought possible.

“And you don’t have to be on a high horse or anything,” Dean eventually chimes in. “Inias just told me you’re taking some extra courses to finish early.”

Castiel licks his lips and ducks his head. “Yes, I do.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dean prods. “Cas, I really don’t want you to overwork yourself. Don’t put too much pressure on your shoulders.”

Castiel squints his eyes. “I’m fine,” he promises. “I was already considering finishing my studies earlier before you even sent the first letter. I’ve been planning ahead a long time.”

Of course he did. 

Castiel never leaves anything to coincidence.

“But I have to confess,” Castiel says after a moment of silence, “that the thought of living with you encouraged me to take a few extra courses more than I had originally planned. Everything still absolutely manageable,” he adds in a hurry as Dean opens his mouth to voice his displeasure about that, “but yes, you have been an important factor in some of my decisions lately.”

For a moment Dean finds himself speechless and he can’t do anything else but stare at this gorgeous man in front of him and wonder whether this is all real.

And in the end he goes with, “Well, we’re surely a pair of impatient dumbasses, right?” because humor’s always been a safe bet for him.

Castiel, however, smiles gently at that. “We are a pair indeed.”

Dean swallows audibly and the urge to grab his fiancé and kiss him senseless, have him close in all sense of the way, is suddenly so strong and overwhelming he gets dizzy for a while and has to blink rapidly to not lose his footing and embarrass himself completely.

“Um …” he mutters eventually, his vocal cords so tight it seems almost impossible to get even a word out. “I …”

He trails off, gaping at Castiel dumbly and wonders when the hell he lost all his smoothness. He vaguely remembers being somehow good at this, but now, with Castiel’s incredible eyes fixed solely on him he forgot everything he ever knew.

Damn .

This marriage certainly will be the death of him.

“I’m really glad you’re here, though,” Castiel says in the end, obviously taking pity on Dean and his lack of conversational skills. “After we parted … I was starting to count the days we would see each other again. I was honestly starting to drive myself crazy, I have to admit.” He steps closer, the warmth of his body making Dean tingle all over. “So to have you here, so unexpected, delights me a great deal.”

Dean is just able to offer a crooked smile and hope that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot.

“Would you like to get out of here?” Castiel wonders. “I could show you around. Like I wanted to for quite some time.”

Dean finds himself nodding eagerly before the information even reached his brain properly. “Yeah,” he agrees quickly. “A tour … yeah, great.”

Castiel beams in return, takes Dean’s hand into his like it’s second nature and leads the way.

-----

Dean learns that Castiel’s ability to describe things and bring them to life is absolutely astonishing.

In his letters he depicted almost every single corner of the university in large detail (oftentimes several pages long) and Dean soaked it all up, almost feeling like he’s been there, standing right next to Castiel. And now, with it actually happening, he realizes that his fiancé is a master of the word.

He recognizes the places before Castiel is even capable to specify them. He simply recalls the descriptions in the letters and finds himself having no trouble whatsoever to identify them.

There’s seriously no need for further explanations.

However, he keeps his mouth shut nonetheless and instead enjoys listening to Castiel’s rambles firsthand. Just like in class he’s passionate and talks a mile a minute as he points out the library, the labs, the historical significance of this object and that one right over there, and Dean just can’t get enough of it.

He’s certain there’s never been anything more beautiful in the world.

And it’s official now: He is in love.

Undeniable. Irrevocable.

Madly.

Till this moment he’s been reluctant to use such grand words, feeling way too small and inexperienced to announce them in any kind of way.

But he can’t hold himself back anymore.

Castiel is here, so warm and perfect and so freaking excited about practically everything in his near vicinity, and Dean is simply overcome with so many emotions he barely has any idea what to do with them.

Usually it would have send him over the hills. Any excuse, no matter how lame and stupid, would’ve been good enough to get out of the situation and flee as far away as possible.

Now though he merely smiles, probably a little dazedly, and squeezes Castiel’s hand a bit tighter, his heart fluttering as Castiel sends him a soft smile in return before going back to his rambles.

Yes, that’s love.

Dean’s sure of that.

And it’s the best thing in the world.

----

Eventually they end up in the gardens.

By the way Castiel’s whole face lights up Dean can immediately tell that this is his favorite place to be, the core of the entire operation. It’s wide and colorful and appears very well taken care of, even the corners where the plants grow wild and seemingly without any kind of order. 

“Most of these are the herbs used for our medicine,” Castiel explains giddily as he spreads his free arm to take it all in. “Some of them are very hard to nourish and it’s actually a small miracle we managed to have them thrive here.” He grins broadly. “This one, for instance. It turned out to be quite useful for anemia …”

And then he rambles on again.

He points at all the different plants and describes their purpose in great detail, his mouth honestly running away with him as he keeps talking and talking and talking, and Dean can’t do nothing else but smile, absolutely thrilled about basically everything that is happening right now.

Granted, he can’t keep up and almost forgets everything as soon as they migrate to the next herb because it’s way too much information in too little time, but Dean nonetheless has the time of his life just watching Castiel being so joyful about the topic at hand. His eyes sparkle, his face glows, and Dean is just lost all over again.

Wow, he’s seriously a lucky bastard!

“In Winchester we have fairly impressive gardens as well,” Dean tells him when Castiel eventually has to stop to catch some much needed breath. “For generations now, but my mother was the driving force to see it expanded to a much larger degree. It’s spreading so wide now you can’t even see the end and it’s growing constantly.” He smiles softly. “And there’s a patch of land at the southwest corner I think would be perfect for a big herb garden. It’s even close to the physicians’ quarters. It’s yours if you want it.”

Admittedly, technically it isn’t his to give away like that, however, Dean is fairly sure that his father won’t have any issues with it whatsoever.

Castiel, meanwhile, stares at Dean incredulously. “Really?”

“Of course.” Dean shrugs nonchalantly. “For a while now we were debating what to do with it, but so far we haven’t exactly found a consensus yet. But this -” he points at all the plants around them, -” this would be absolutely amazing, don’t you think? My mother would love it.”

Castiel blinks. “And … you would do that?”

He almost sounds timid, like he can’t believe anyone would offer such a thing.

“For you?” Dean’s expression gentles even more. “I’d do anything for you.”

Castiel makes a tiny noise Dean has no real idea how to interpret, but before he has any chance to wrap his head around it a pair of ridiculously warm and pliant lips presses against his.

Only briefly, not even a millisecond, but Dean’s heart nearly leaps out of of his chest anyway.

Castiel, however, jerks back instantly, his eyes wide as though he can’t believe he just did that. “I’m … I’m so sorry,” he stammers sheepishly. “I just … I … you’re really so generous, Dean, I don’t even know what to say.” He licks his lips unconsciously, like he wants to savor Dean’s taste on them, and Dean seriously has no clue what to do with that. “But are you certain about this? It’s your mother’s garden, after all.”

Castiel looks so unsure about this, so nervous, his cheeks flushed pink in the bright sunlight, and Dean’s heart flies through the rooftop now. His lips tingle and his body feels like it’s on fire.

“Cas,” he whispers, wrapping one arm around Castiel’s hip and yanking him closer, absolutely enjoying the look of both shock and hope on his fiancé’s features. “First of all, my mother would’ve loved you, I’m sure of that. She would’ve been happy to give you all the herb gardens on earth.” He leans in, their breaths intermingling now. “And I … I’m more than eager to give you the whole world. Every last inch of it.”

Castiel smiles at that, so bright and joyful, and Dean’s unable to hold himself back anymore faced with such beauty.

Over the years he had a few first kisses here and there, but nothing compares to the sensation of Castiel’s lips meeting his, quite properly now, and the both of them becoming one. It’s warm and safe and a thousand different other things and Dean never thought such an onslaught of emotions even possible.

But here they are and Dean just knows in that moment, right in the middle of a herb garden, with the most amazing man in his arms, that he finally found his home.

Chapter Text

Soon afterwards they find themselves in the infirmary with Isaac.

Dean surely would’ve loved to stay in the gardens for way longer, holding Castiel in his arms the entire time, but when the news that Isaac is now available to receive visitors reaches him he just has to drop his lovely fantasies for the time being and check on his trusted knight.

Thankfully the physicians at the university are doing an amazing job and seem very optimistic that they will be capable to save Isaac’s mutilated arm. Isaac, at least, looks far happier and more relaxed than the last time Dean saw him and he instantly chats excitedly with the prince and the other two knights about his treatments and his future plans.

Dean sure as hell enjoys to witness him like this. It’s always hard to lose your men - death, disfiguration, disease, you name it - and he highly doubts it’ll ever get easier, so the occasional success story is a very nice change from that.

They spend hours with Isaac, talking and joking and overall just being absolutely relieved that everything seems to turn out fine in the end, until Castiel eventually appears at their side again, after disappearing for a while both to grant the Winchester men some privacy with each other and to visit another lecture, and announces that it’s getting late and Isaac should rest for the remainder of the evening.

Dean is fairly surprised as he throws a glance outside the nearest window and indeed catches a glimpse of the sun sinking down behind the horizon. He seriously didn’t notice so much time had passed.

“Where are you staying for the night?” Castiel leans in to ask after they left the infirmary and the other knights already started shuffling toward the living quarters they were assigned to at their arrival, obviously figuring that their prince might be just fine in the company of his fiancé.

“They gave us a room when we arrived,” Dean explains. “Down this hallway.”

Castiel frowns. “I can’t imagine it being worthy of the crown prince,” he objects. “Do they even know who you are?”

Dean can’t help a smile. “Cas, don’t worry. I’m used to sleeping on the forest ground during patrols, I surely don’t mind.”

Castiel assesses him for a moment, apparently on the verge of adding something more, but in the end he merely lowers his gaze and gets weirdly fidgety all of a sudden.

“What about dinner?” Castiel wonders, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Would you mind sharing a meal in my quarters with me?”

Dean raises a brow. He didn’t even think much about food, to be honest, way too exhilarated about the things happening all around. However, now as he pays attention to it he actually hears his stomach quietly grumbling in annoyance, seemingly not happy about being ignored for so long.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees easily, the thought of some delicious meal with some amazing company lifting his spirits up even higher. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Castiel licks his lips, still appearing strangely nervous. “And if you want,” he begins, squirming, “if you want … you could stay in my chamber with me. For the night.”

Dean blinks.

Oh.

Wow.

For a minute he doesn’t even know how to reply. He just keeps staring at Castiel as the guy waits patiently (and obviously fairly anxiously) for Dean to wrap his head around the proposal.

“Are you … are you sure?”

Despite his tension (or maybe because of it) Castiel laughs. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

Dean quirks his head to one side, ignoring the thoughts in his head somersaulting, every single one wondering whether Castiel means it in that way or in a totally innocent manner. Knowing him as well as he does, Dean is pretty certain it’s actually the latter, but his chest still can’t keep itself from clenching at the mere possibilities.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this before,” Castiel mumbles, a blush crawling up his neck. “Inviting someone to my room and all that …”

Castiel’s nervousness awakens some protective instincts in Dean and he steps closer and reaches out before he even realizes what’s going on. “And you’re really comfortable with … well, with me spending the night? With you?”

Castiel nods fiercely. “Yes, I am.”

“Because if you’re not or even if you might change your mind at any time, that’s completely fine,” Dean reassures. “I mean, it’s not just a little thing, right? Sharing your bed with someone, in whatever way …”

Castiel bites his bottom lip at those words. “I only meant for sleep, if that’s all right …”

“ Of course it’s all right,” is Dean quick to affirm. “More than.”

Castiel’s whole face gets even redder as he desperately tries to avoid Dean’s gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want to … I really do …” He clears his throat loudly. “At some point … whenever … I guess the wedding night might be a good place to start, come to think of it …”

Dean finds himself chuckling and getting flustered at the same time at the mental image.

“I’m just … I’d really like you to stay with me,” Castiel says. “By my side.”

Dean’s smile softens and before he can talk himself out of it he leans in and presses a tender kiss on Castiel’s forehead. He’s fairly aware that they’re standing in the middle of a public hallway and that Castiel’s bodyguards are lurking somewhere closeby, but at this very moment he doesn’t give a damn. Offering Castiel some comfort is the only concern he’s got right now.

“I apologize for being so awkward about it,” Castiel mutters after a moment, his features visibly relaxing at Dean’s display of affection. “Like I said many times, I’m not very good in these kinds of situations.”

Dean pulls him closer as he simultaneously shakes his head. “You have nothing to feel sorry for, Cas. It is a rather big deal, after all.”

Castiel snorts. “It’s actually not …”

“But it is ,” Dean urges. “And it’s a first time for me too, so I guess we’re in the same boat with this one.”

Castiel wrinkles his forehead. “Really?”

Dean simply shrugs. “I’ve never spent the night with someone else either,” he explains. “Well, besides Sammy a couple of times when we were kids, but that’s clearly not the same thing. At all .”

Castiel appears very intrigued at this turn of events. “Then you’re new to this as well?”

“Cas,” Dean says, looking right at the other man’s eyes, into this absolutely breathtaking blue, “with the two of us, there are a lot of things that are new to me.”

Exciting things.

Terrifying things.

Amazing things.

Dean can’t wait to experience them all.

“How about we first get ourselves some food?” he proposes. “Afterwards we can make it up as we go.”

Castiel beams at him brightly before taking his hand and dragging him toward the kitchen.

-----

The kitchen is big and shiny and fairly empty at this time of night.

No wonder, with the joined dinner in the mess hall having ended about an hour ago. After cleaning up and preparing some stuff for the next day the kitchen staff surely fled to enjoy at least the rest of the evening.

Dean’s sure that either he or Castiel could easily use their status to drag them all back here and make them cook a pretentious meal just for them, but he would’ve felt truly bad about this. And Castiel seems to share the sentiment as he doesn’t even suggest to get at least one of the cooks back with them but immediately heads for the pantry instead.

It’s richly filled and they even find some leftovers from the main dinner they didn’t feed to the dogs and pigs yet, so Dean is more than happy with the outcome. After all, when he’s out with his knights, for days or sometimes even a week or two, he doesn’t dine in the finest halls either. He never minded it for a second. As long as he’s got some good food in his belly by the end of the day, he’s satisfied.

They grab as much as they (including the bodyguards) can carry - cheese, fruit, potatoes, some dried meat, bread, and even a pie - and find themselves fully loaded on their way to Castiel’s room.

It’s perfectly located at the end of a hallway, with Inias and Hannah occupying the chambers right and left beside it. Surely no one can get to the room without passing security first. Furthermore, Dean is pretty sure that the quarters are fairly secured from the outside, too. No trees or close balconies or anything similar to give easy access to Castiel’s windows.

No, this seems to be the safest you can get under these circumstances and Dean feels very relieved to see that.

After splitting the food into fair shares and wishing both Hannah and Inias a good night they shuffle into Castiel’s room, eager to further continue their alone time with one another.

As Castiel instantly heads to a nearby table to lie down the food there Dean can’t help letting his eyes curiously wander over the place. It’s fairly modest for a person of Castiel’s rank and Dean recalls reading in one of his letters how he actually got into a fight with Michael over this years ago, just when he was about to move into the university. Michael insisted on something a bit akin to Castiel’s position and already made plans to convert a barely used lecture hall into some spacious living quarters for his brother. Castiel, however, wasn’t keen on making such a big fuss and argued a lot with the (back then) crown prince about the matter.

In the end Castiel got his way, though. Not only would it have been time-consuming to refurbish the entire place, the lecture hall was also badly located from the security guard’s point of view, and that’s what eventually made King Charles put his foot down and remind Michael of his place. Michael begrudgingly his defeat and didn’t even try to correct it after his father’s death, so Castiel views it as a personal success until this very day.

But the chamber Castiel is now living in is still very spacious compared to probably most of the other students. A bit smaller and cozier than Dean’s room back in Winchester, however, it surely isn’t inferior in any way.

Dean especially loves that it’s so much Cas. He can’t really explain it, but as soon as he walked into the room and let his eyes roam over the carefully arranged furniture, the impressive fireplace, the comfortable looking bed and the soft color pattern weaving throughout the entire room he just felt like coming home.

He finds himself smiling drinking in everything with much scrutiny.

Eventually his gaze settles on the desk on the east side next to a giant window. There’s nothing particularly special about it, it’s big and woody and cluttered with all kinds of books and scrolls, just like you’d expect from a student close to his graduation. Messy and yet probably still kind of organized, at least for the person using it.

However, what catches Dean’s eyes are the very familiar looking pieces of paper which lie right in the center of the desk. As though they have been read very recently.

Dean’s letters.

It’s not all of them - he wrote tons of pages in the last few months -, but he’s sure the rest of them isn’t far away. The papers looks quite worn, like they’ve been in Castiel’s hands more times than just once or twice, and overall well used. Castiel clearly didn’t just stash the letters somewhere after receiving them and forgot about them.

On the contrary, he obviously put them at the center of his whole attention, even compared to all his study material.

Dean seriously has no idea what to do with that information.

“It gives me great comfort reading them over and over,” Castiel explains, apparently having no trouble following Dean’s train of thoughts. “I can’t even count how often I’ve read every single one.”

His voice sounds mostly confident, however, there’s a hint of uncertainty swinging in it as well. As though he’s not exactly sure whether it would be considered appropriate to confess to such a thing or not.

“I cherish them all, for various reasons,” Castiel continues nonetheless, after taking a moment to study Dean’s expression and obviously deeming it safe enough to go on. “But I think the first one is my favorite.”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. “The first one?”

He remembers vividly how long it took for him to write that one. How he struggled with himself, wondering all the time if he was making a mistake writing to a man he knew absolutely nothing about. How he talked himself into a frenzy more than once and eventually bumbled himself through the letter inelegantly.

And that’s Castiel’s favorite?

“It’s what started this all,” Castiel whispers, his fingers tentatively weaving with Dean’s. “You were so careful, so uncertain. Apparently half expecting rejection.”

Dean licks his bottom lip. “Yeah, I kinda did,” he admits. “I thought I might bother you with my stupid letter or something.”

Castiel squeezes his hand tightly. “It seems so silly now,” he says. “But back then I had similar fears. That’s why I felt relieved beyond belief when I got your first letter. Suddenly the entire thing didn’t appear so freaking terrifying anymore.”

Dean can’t help a wide grin. He surely shared that sentiment at the time, no question about that.

“I guess that’s why your first letter to me is my favorite too,” he confesses. “I figured if you’d turn out to be a major douchebag or whatever, that would be it. My father would force me to marry you anyway and I’d be miserable for the rest of my existence.”

He’d be up to do his duty, of course, but even the faintest idea of an unhappy life made him restless nevertheless. He’d seen his parents, how much they loved and adored each other, and though he knew right away he might not end up so lucky he still hoped for it way harder than he cares to admit.

And apparently his prayers have been answered.

“But then your first letter came and I just knew that everything would turn out alright,” Dean states. “And after a while I started to realize it would be even more amazing that I could ever imagine.”

He beams at Castiel, hoping he’s able to convey all the emotions he’s unable to voice out loud in that way.

Castiel looks at him for a moment, something stormy in his magnificent eyes Dean is incapable of deciphering ( yet - he’s more than determined to learn every single one of Castiel’s micro expressions rather sooner than later), before he eventually shifts closer, his movement still a little hesitant as though he’s wondering whether it might be welcome or not. Dean instantly makes extra sure to answer the motion with a warm and enthusiastic grin, wishing to boost up Castiel’s confidence with that gesture, and is rewarded with a kiss in return.

Dean should have expected it, the way Castiel leaned in right away when he didn’t register any resistance from his fiancé’s side, but he still somehow feels surprised and overwhelmed for a moment there. Maybe it’s the new situation, maybe it’s the fact that he’s never felt that way before, that he didn’t know a simple kiss could cause so many strong reactions inside of him … 

Yeah, for a split second Dean freezes up.

However, he jumps on board as quickly as possible, not giving Castiel any time to second guess himself. Because his advances are very much welcome and Dean doesn’t want him to doubt that for even a moment longer.

It starts sweet, as innocent as it can be, but soon enough they pull each other closer, their bodies aligning, as Dean deepens the kiss, his tongue slowly flicking over Castiel’s lower lip and causing a wonderful noise in the process Dean is more than ready to hear way more often in the future.

He can’t help a happy smile while he buries his hand in Castiel’s soft hair, reveling in the sounds coming from his fiancé as his fingers grip the strands and tug softly at them. Castiel shudders against him, clearly enjoying all these new sensations, and Dean finds himself yanking him even closer, his free arm wrapping around Castiel’s hip and decreasing the space between them immensely.

It’s warm and exciting and safe and Dean finds himself thinking that he could definitely get used to this.

For the rest of his life.

“When our little correspondence started,” he whispers as they eventually pause for a moment due to the annoying need for air, “I never thought in a million years we would end up here.”

Castiel’s gaze is tender as he cups Dean’s cheek. “It seems we’re a pair of lucky dumbasses, aren’t we?”

Dean laughs breathily. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He moves closer again, so prepared to pick up where they left off, but then his freaking stomach gets in the way by beginning to growl so loudly Castiel immediately bursts out into laughter.

“Lucky and hungry dumbasses, it appears,” Castiel corrects his assessment with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Dean huffs, trying for a pout but missing by a mile as the corners of his mouth tug upwards against his will. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I got something to eat.”

“Then let me take care of you,” Castiel offers before pressing a quick peck onto Dean’s lips and humming happily. “I don’t want you to starve.”

But instead of dragging Dean to the nearby table Castiel suddenly grabs all the pillows and blankets he can find and piles them up in front of the fireplace. It’s probably mostly due to the cold slowly creeping up as night proceeds, however, Dean can’t helping finding it ridiculously romantic when he watches Castiel building him a comfortable nest and pulling him down on the fluffy ground right next to him.

Dean is vaguely reminded by his nights with Sam, with them sitting in front of the fire eating and talking and whatnot, but of course at the same time it’s nothing like that at all. At least Dean’s heart never somersaults like crazy when he spends his time with his brother like that.

Soon enough, however, he is successfully distracted by the food presented to him. They don’t care much for plates or cutlery, only digging in like they’re not two princes raised in the wealthiest households but just regular guys enthusiastic about their food, and Dean’s pretty sure he falls a little bit more in love with Castiel in that very moment.

He revels in the sight of Castiel enjoying his meal, taking everything with his fingers like it’s second nature to him, and starting to talk about anything that comes to his mind. He rambles about the origin of cheese and the process of drying meat and on one occasion the life expectancy of sea pirates (though Dean has no idea how that even came up) and Dean loves every second of it.

He’s thrilled to realize that this will be his life very soon.

“We should do this more often,” he blurts out at some point, interrupting one of Castiel’s rambles mid-sentence. “In Winchester, I mean. When we’re married … and stuff.”

He refuses to blush and fails miserably.

Castiel, meanwhile, smiles easily. “What do you mean? Sitting on the floor and eating without any kind of etiquette?”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees right away. “Just you and me. No one else.”

He knows from firsthand experience that a crown prince and, later on, a king doesn’t have that much private time only for himself. You always have to remind yourself to cherish it, especially with people you love.

“We should promise ourselves to do this more often,” he states. “Once a week, at least.”

Castiel’s features soften as he shifts closer until they’re legs are touching. “How about every evening?”

Dean grins in response. The thought of having this as such a constant in his life is absolutely exhilarating.

“Sounds even better.”

Castiel makes a soft noise, apparently happy about the lack of hesitation on Dean’s part, and goes in for another kiss, this time instantly met by a very responsive Dean.

It doesn’t take long for them to get tangled in each other, buried in an ocean of pillows and blankets, and forget the rest of the world once again.

Chapter Text

Preparing for the night is an easy affair.

Dean expected it to be a little awkward, with a lot of hesitations and uncomfortable silences, but instead it turns out to be so simple he doesn’t even think twice about it. It seems like a familiar routine they’ve been doing for years now and Dean really enjoys this tingling sensation of warmth. 

Sure, there are still some stolen glances here and there, a little bit of blushing (mostly on Dean’s part), but overall it runs smoothly. Soon enough they’re changed into their night clothes and crawl into bed.

The bed is big and spacious, huge enough for two grown men to sleep in it without ever coming close to touching. But Dean doesn’t even consider for a split second not to be close to Castiel and his fiancé appears fairly pleased when Dean pulls him in his embrace and wraps himself around him like an octopus.

“This alright?” he wonders nonetheless. After all, he honestly never shared a bed with someone who wasn’t Sammy and he’s not sure about the right protocol here. If Castiel would tell him to back off and keep some space between them, he’d be off in a heartbeat.

But Castiel only hums happily and urges Dean even closer. “This is very nice, yes.”

Dean drops a light kiss onto Castiel’s temple and has to confirm that sentiment. It feels indeed rather wonderful and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna get addicted to this fairly soon.

He falls asleep not long after, feeling warm and safe and just unbelievably blessed.

-----

When Dean wakes up the next morning he’s all alone in bed.

He pouts instantly, disappointed by this turn of events, before he notices Castiel on the other side of the room, just pulling his tunic over his head and aiming for his pants next. His head is a freaking bird’s nest and he seems barely awake and coherent, his movement rather practised than actually conscious, and Dean can’t help grinning at the picture in front of him.

“You look cute all grumpy early in the morning,” he announces without any shame, smirking widely.

Castiel raises his head, a small smile flickering over his lips at Dean’s awakened state. “You wouldn’t be too thrilled about a ridiculously early lecture either, Dean.”

Dean can’t really argue with that. It sounds far from nice.

“You should just go back to sleep,” Castiel urges him. “I will be back in two hours, hopefully with some hearty breakfast in tow.”

Dean merely makes a humming noise, a bit distracted by Castiel lacing up his pants. The way he moves his fingers so gracefully is quite captivating and Dean finds himself imaging all the things these fingers could do to him. 

Damn.

Castiel, thankfully, doesn’t take notice, probably both way too preoccupied with changing his clothes and still being half-asleep. Dean isn’t sure he’d even register the university blowing up around him.

So Dean uses the opportunity to watch him a bit more closely for a moment. How he’s jumping around on one leg as he tries to fit one of his socks over his foot, apparently having totally forgotten that things like chairs exist and instead deciding to look like an utter fool in the process, and Dean’s heart is on the verge of bursting out his chest due to all the emotions overflowing inside of him.

So in the end there is nothing left but to smile at Castiel and whisper, “I love you.”

Castiel’s head snaps up at those words, his eyes going wide as he freezes on the spot, all of a sudden very much awake. Unfortunately his balance isn’t prepared for that kind of treatment and fails to work with him any longer, resulting in Castiel crashing onto the floor in a very inelegant manner.

However, he scrambles toward the bed just about a second later, crawling over the floor like a toddler who can’t trust his own legs, apparently very eager to get to Dean as fast as possible, smoothness be damned.

“What?” he urges, his gaze fixed on Dean the whole time. “What did you just say?”

Dean grins, at the ridiculousness of the situation and also at the hope in Castiel’s voice. “I love you.”

Castiel gasps and pauses in his motions once more.

“Maybe it’s too early to say it,” Dean continues. “After all, we have met each other in person like twice now. But … I feel like I know you. On a level I’ve never known anyone else before. And … and …”

Castiel clambers up on the bed, still looking kind of wonderfully absurd, and downright throws himself into Dean’s arm and presses their lips together before the prince even has a chance to process anything.

“I love you too,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s skin. “So much.”

Dean’s pretty sure he never felt such blatant happiness before.

And so they hold each other close and kiss and neither notice nor care afterwards that Castiel totally misses his lecture.

-----

For the next two days Dean feels like in a daze.

On cloud nine, like people use to say.

He’s fairly aware, though, that it won’t be that way forever, of course. They will have their arguments and fights, they will annoy each other and not speak to one another besides the bare necessities for a while. At several points in their relationship Dean most certainly is going to manage to fuck up - in small ways and in major ones as well - and Castiel will probably have his fair share too.

Life is simply not a fairytale.

But it still can be wonderful and Dean wouldn’t want it any other way.

And he just knows it’s gonna be amazing.

-----

They barely spend any time apart. Dean accompanies Castiel to his lectures, his dinners, even his quiet study lessons in the library.

They laugh together about stupid stuff.

They bicker about even stupider stuff.

They kiss, in dark corners, open in the hallways, at one point in the large mess hall, for everyone to see. Dean doesn’t give a damn and neither does Castiel.

They find themselves in the large gardens more often than not and switch between educating each other about the different plants there and passionately making out underneath the roses, just like a freaking cliché.

They breathe “I love you” to one another late at nights, in Castiel’s bed, right before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

So yes, it’s absolutely amazing.

-----

On the last day, merely hours before Dean’s meant to meet up again with the rest of his men and head back to Winchester, Dean and Castiel decide to take full advantage of the surprisingly wonderful weather and spend the morning at the beach on the backside of the university.

It’s a large, very open beach, and Inias and Hannah feel confident enough to let the two love birds alone for a change, returning back to the building after sweeping the nearby area one last time and finally enjoying some well-deserved break.

The water is too cold to actually swim in, but Castiel doesn’t hesitate to lose his shoes and socks, roll up his pant legs and marching into the sea until the point where the waves reach his knees. He smiles broadly, the effect even intensified by the bright sunlight, and Dean is pretty sure he’s never seen anyone more gorgeous in his life.

He silently thanks both his father and King Michael for arranging this whole thing all these months ago before joining Castiel in the water.

-----

They revel in the sensation of the cool water, they tease, they splash each other, they laugh their heads off, they kiss and kiss.

Dean feels like a giddy teenager again.

-----

Much later they lie side by side on the warm sand, happy and exhausted.

Dean knows he has to set out very soon and though he feels sad about leaving Castiel once more, his entire body is tingling. Yes, they have to say goodbye for now, but at the same time he got a taste of what it would be like to live with Castiel, to share their lives with each other, and it’s the best damned sensation in the world. A few measly weeks apart before staying together forever seems to be nothing in comparison.

“Hey, Cas?” he whispers, after a long stretch of silence.

Castiel next to him starts to stir. “Yes?”

He sounds a bit drowsy, as though he was just on the verge of falling asleep right here in the sand.

Dean can’t help a fond smile at that and feels assured in what he’s about to do next.

“There is something I need to ask you before I leave,” he says. “Something important.”

Castiel turns his head, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

Dean grins as he leans closer and presses a soft kiss onto Castiel’s lips. “It’s just … will you marry me?”

Castiel blinks a few times, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features, before he eventually settles on an amused chuckle. “I’ve actually been under the impression we already are betrothed. Was I wrong?”

Dean brushes his finger gently over Castiel’s cheekbone, his heart beating rapidly under the other man’s intense gaze. “My father and your brother struck a deal with each other,” he says. “They agreed on an arrangement best for them and their respective kingdoms. The entire thing had actually little to do with us or our feelings. It’s just alliances and duty.”

He shuffles a bit closer, ignoring the sand unashamedly trying to sneak into his clothes. “So this is me proposing to you,” he clarifies, his voice getting almost unbearable soft. “Not because you’re a prince and it would be favorable for our families and kingdoms, but because you’re kind and sweet and funny and absolutely gorgeous and I just wanna spend the rest of my life with you. You drive me crazy, Cas, in the best possible way, and I never want to miss that again.”

He pulls his mother’s ring -- a family heirloom he’s been carrying around almost forever -- off his finger and offers it to Castiel with a shy smile. 

“So what do you say?” he wonders. “Would you like to marry my lame ass?”

For a moment Castiel seems completely speechless, merely glancing back and forth between Dean and the ring. As though he’s not sure what to even make of this situation.

But then he suddenly beams, so bright and happy, and excitedly flings his arms around Dean’s neck, despite their impractical lying position in the sand.

“Yes, of course!” he nearly screams into Dean’s ear. “Of course I want to marry you!”

So when Dean slips the ring onto Castiel’s finger and feels such a strong sensation of rightness his chest starts to clench, he just knows he’s the luckiest man alive.

-----

Their goodbye takes longer than Dean expected. 

He actually intended to do it quick and easy, reassuring himself over and over that he would have Castiel by his side in no time at all again.

However, Castiel still seems highly flashed by Dean’s proposal and doesn’t appear way too eager to stop touching his fiancé for a longer period of time than five seconds. Dean merely manages to put one piece of clothing into his travel bag before Castiel is on him again, kissing him, running his hands over Dean’s arms, his torso, and, on one very memorable occasion, his behind.

Dean knows he actually shouldn’t encourage Castiel since he really can’t afford to dally, but dammit, those lips and sweet caresses are powerful weapons and transform Dean into a mess. He’s fairly sure no one would be strong enough to resist this.

“Cas, please,” Dean whines as Castiel starts to pepper light kisses onto his jaw. “I seriously have to go.”

In response Castiel only presses himself closer. “You could just stay,” he suggests. “Neither your father not Michael would be upset about it, I presume.”

Dean can’t help a snort at that. “You don’t know my dad, Cas,” he objects. “He would be pissed that I not only left town but the kingdom . He wouldn’t show me any mercy, not even for you.”

Castiel pouts while his fingers find the sensitive skin on Dean’s hip, making him shudder in the process. “How about a few more hours? An additional day?”

It’s sounds tempting, very much so, but Dean merely sighs. “I would love,” he admits. “You have no idea how much. But my men are waiting in the woods for me and if I don’t turn up at the arranged time they’ll probably send an entire army to retrieve me. It wouldn’t be pretty.” Not by a longshot, Dean is sure of that. “And foremost, I don’t want them to worry, you know?”

Castiel doesn’t appear too appeased by it. “You’re way too honorable,” he complains, without any kind of heat in his voice. “You should work on that.”

Dean chuckles, his chest starting to feel even fuzzier than before. “I’ll try, my love.”

Castiel makes a soft noise at the pet name and dives in for another kiss, this time so deep and sensual Dean’s knees begin to buckle. The fucker even slips a bit of tongue in there and Dean hastily has to break it off before he totally forgets himself.

“I really have to go,” he repeats, with emphasis. “And it won’t be long until we see each other again, always remember that. We will never be apart from each other.”

Castiel smiles dreamily at the image and in the end it only takes them about twenty-two more kisses to finally say goodbye.

-----

Everything works according to plan.

Dean meets up with his men more or less on time (he’s a little late, but they only smirk at the state of Dean’s disheveled hair and kiss-swollen lips and continue to shoot him knowing looks the entire way back) and they arrive at Winchester without the king anywhere in sight. John returns about four days after Dean, looking all serene and happy and none the wiser that his delinquent son ever left the castle, not to mention the kingdom.

So yes, everything is running smoothly.

Here and there Dean wonders whether he’s giving too much away, with the way he can’t stop smiling no matter how hard he tries. But his father seems so dazed after his time with Lady Kate, apparently highly smitten himself, that he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Sam, however, only needed one glance at Dean, seconds after his brother’s return, to notice the missing ring on his finger, and grinned brightly in response. “You didn’t wait around, huh?”

Dean merely smiled and refused to blush.

He failed spectacularly.

-----

Everything is turning out so great that Dean doesn’t even consider to become concerned when John calls him to his private chambers little over a week after his return back home.

He only assumes it to be about state business and goes in without a care in the world.

But he instantly freezes on the threshold when he suddenly notices an unexpected guest sitting right beside his father: King Michael.

Dean’s eyebrows rise up very high. Of course it’s not unusual for a noble to pay the royal Winchester family a visit, but normally there is a lot of fuss and banquets and sometimes even a parade or two. But this time not even Dean knew about the king’s presence and it makes him feel a little unsettled all of a sudden.

Especially looking at the far from happy faces of both kings.

“Dean, please close the door,” John say gruffly. “We have an important matter to discuss.”

Dean tries not to swallow too audibly as he does as he’s been told. “Father, Your Majesty,” he greets the two men, hoping his voice carries nothing but utmost respect. “As always it’s a privilege to see you. Though you have to excuse me for not greeting you properly, I wasn’t aware you would pay us a visit.”

Michael’s expression stays motionless. “Well, this is a rather spontaneous endeavor, I’m afraid.”

Dean takes a deep breath and suppresses the urge to nag them with five million questions at once. “So, what circumstances does we owe this pleasure then?”

The kings exchange a glance, their looks heavy and meaningful, before they both turn to Dean at the same time.

“It concerns Prince Castiel,” John explains.

Dean’s heart nearly bursts out of his ribcage and it takes all his strength to composure himself. “What about him?” he asks, trying for nonchalant, despite his shaky tone.

Michael leans forward in his seat as he studies the crown prince intently, his blank expression unable to decipher.

“Some things have changed drastically over the course of the last few days,” the king says. “And you might even know what’s coming, don’t you?”

He squints his eyes, assessing even the tiniest muscle twitch on Dean’s face, while Dean can’t help feeling totally overwhelmed. Just a few minutes ago he considered himself the luckiest bastard alive, the sensation of Castiel’s kisses still lingering on his lips, and now he just wants to run and hide.

“I don’t …” he starts, blinking a few times. “What is this about?”

King Michael doesn’t beat around the bush as he openly announces, “Your engagement with Castiel -- it’s terminated, effective immediately.”

Chapter Text

Michael’s last words sound like a threatening echo inside Dean’s head -- back and forth, back and forth -- and he feels his knees going weak.

This … 

Fuck, this can’t be happening!

No, no, no, no!

For a moment Dean is convinced he completely misheard and chastises his sluggish mind for giving him such a cruel shock. He wants to laugh it off, to shake his head in frustration about himself and his poor sense of hearing.

But looking at those hard expressions of the men in front of him, he catches up soon enough that he understood the whole thing perfectly well. They’re here to discuss very serious business. About the alliance, about the marriage arrangement.

About Dean and Castiel.

Dean chokes as he sees his wonderful and bright future crumble into a pile of dust. Just half an hour ago he was talking with one of the head craftsmen about installing some sort of small cat entrance at the backdoor in his chambers so that Castiel could get all the stupid feline pets his heart desires, and now he’s standing here, feeling all of that slipping through his fingers.

This can’t be real!

Not after everything … 

Dean feels his whole body revolt at the mere possibility and he wants to scream and yell and throw some punches, but in the last second he reminds himself that it would be all kinds of counterproductive to get overly emotional in the presence of not one but two kings. Freaking out and losing his head would only make the situation much worse.

So he swallows all the powerful emotions down for the time being and tries for a somewhat composed demeanor as he asks, with an marginally steady voice, “Why … why would you break off the engagement?”

God, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

John instantly picks up on it, a frown directed at his son, but Michael doesn’t know him well enough to recognize the high pitch in Dean’s tone for anything other than surprise.

“I assume you have heard the rumors?” Michael wonders, his eyebrows furrowed as he studies the crown prince.

Dean merely blinks, bewildered by that question. “Rumors? What rumors?”

Michael makes a scoffing noise. “The rumors which are spreading like wildfire throughout both our kingdoms,” he explains. “The ones everyone is talking about right now. You seriously haven’t heard?”

Dean just gapes back, having absolutely no idea what the king is even getting at. “Uh …”

“You have to excuse Prince Dean,” John pipes in, leaning closer to Michael. “He’s been very preoccupied lately with the matters of state.”

Which is a nice way of saying “My brat son openly disobeyed my orders and wandered into bandit infested territory to look for his wounded soldier friend and I grounded his sorry ass for life because of that unforgivable insubordination, so he hadn’t had any opportunity to speak to many people to hear anything remotely interesting.”

“I see.” Michael nods. “Well, then let me just say that this turn of events is highly unfortunate, but in no way your fault. You behaved impeccable and I’m truly sorry for all the inconvenience my family is causing you.”

Dean keeps on staring.

What the hell is happening?

“But …” He glances back and forth between the kings. “What about the alliance? Surely you don’t want to jeopardize --”

“The alliance is as strong as ever,” Michael cuts in, his features softening a bit. “The cancelation of the engagement is a small blow, I have to admit, but your father and I already discussed some preferable alternatives. You don’t have to worry about that, though it’s of course very admirable that you do so. It will be remembered in our future interactions.”

John sends a slight nod in his son’s direction, obviously quite pleased by Dean’s foresight, while Dean just feels way over his head.

“You must understand, in my country reputation has a very strong value,” Michael continues as he starts to squirm in his seat, as though he’s highly uncomfortable with what is about to come. “And though nobody expects complete fidelity faced with an arranged marriage, discretion is indispensable. Flauntering conquests around openly, laughing into the faces of everyone involved -- it’s simply inappropriate beyond measure.” He sighs deeply. “Therefore my brother’s actions are outright unforgivable.”

Dean squints his eyes in confusion. “Uh …?”

“The rumors,” John jumps in, right after patting Michael’s arm in a somewhat reassuring manner. “Apparently Prince Castiel showed himself very intimate with some man, out in the open, right in front of countless witnesses. For everyone to see.”

Dean’s eyes widen in shock.

Oh.

OH.

Oh shit.

“Um …”

“Such a behavior is naturally unacceptable,” Michael goes on, grinding his teeth. “It’s careless and rude to you and your entire family and I just can’t let you go on with this betrothal in good conscience. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Dean makes an unintelligible noise and curses his past self for being so fucking reckless. Why didn’t he consider that something like this might happen?

Oh yes, right, because he wasn’t thinking, not with Castiel around, distracting him with bright smiles and soft kisses.

Damn.

He didn’t even stop for a brief second to remember that apart from Inias, Hannah and his own men no further outsider actually knew Dean’s real identity. He just stupidly assumed that everyone would either catch up on it on their own or not give a damn anyway.

That people might jump to the wrong conclusions -- yeah, that option certainly wasn’t in Dean’s line of sight.

Dammit all to hell.

And now they’re having the gossip machine working full time, spreading ugly rumors about Castiel, and Dean surely will be punished for this. John at least truly hates being inconvenienced unnecessarily. 

Yeah, Dean’s gonna be confined to his quarters for life now.

“Your Majesty,” he begins as he lowers his gaze sheepishly. “I’m afraid this is all just a misunderstanding --”

“Oh, I can assure you it’s not,” Michael interrupts. “Before coming here I paid my dear brother a visit, eager to hear his side of the story. After all, rumors are more often false than right, aren’t they?” He snorts. “But Castiel didn’t even deny it. No, he straight out confirmed it.”

Dean raises a brow. “He did?”

Michael nods, his expression pinched. “There’s no doubt about it. He just …” The king simply sighs and shakes his head, looking weary all of a sudden. “Castiel hasn’t been fond of this marriage arrangement from the very start and now I’m beginning to suspect the reason why. And since I can’t allow you to lose face, not with the people of both our kingdoms being subjected to this, I think it best to terminate the engagement.”

John nods in agreement while appearing quite relaxed about the whole dilemma -- which lets strongly suspect Michael reassured him several times beforehand that their treaty really wouldn’t take any harm from this. Hell, maybe he is even kind of relieved, since from his point of view Dean still is reluctant about marrying a “stranger” he supposedly never met before. He probably thinks Dean will be elated about the news.

Dean, however … well, he actually feels relieved too, but for a totally different reason. For a minute there he seriously saw all his hopes and dreams collapse and that would’ve been the worst thing imaginable.

Not to see Castiel again. Not to hold him in his arms, to kiss him … 

Yeah, Dean would’ve rather abdicated and fled with Castiel into the hinterlands to live on a simple farm for the rest of their lives than having to be without him.

But still, there are things that don’t make sense.

“What did Prince Castiel say exactly?” Dean wonders, stepping a little closer to the kings. Castiel could’ve cleared this entire mess up in a heartbeat, but somehow they’re actually here, with both men thinking Castiel shagged up with some other guy.

“Well, we didn’t have much time,” Michael confesses. “He’s right in the middle of some important exams and he barely had a minute to spare for me. But when I confronted him about the things those eyewitnesses allegedly saw last week, he told me that everything was true. That he … well, that he spent time with the man he loves. He, uh, he even had a ring.”

Michael appears awkward sharing that tidbit, an undeniable contrast to his usually dignified and steadfast posture.

Dean, meanwhile, can’t help sending a silent curse in Castiel’s direction. Yes, he didn’t lie to his brother, but he obviously forgot to mention Dean’s freaking name in all of this.

God, that man is pretty useless during exam stress.

And yet Dean loves him anyway. Dammit.

“But like I said, your father and I already discussed valuable alternatives,” Michael continues while straightening his back again. “We shouldn’t consider this a setback but a new opportunity.”

He smiles, way too broadly, and Dean feels something weird tingle in his stomach.

The way Michael looks, the way he talks about the topic of his brother -- there is something else going on.

“You’re deflecting,” Dean blurts out and flinches instantly at his own audacity to address a powerful king like that. But when Michael doesn’t seem irritated but rather uncomfortable by the accusation, the prince feels confidence boosting his further actions. “This isn’t about reputation, about saving face. This is about Castiel. About your brother. ”

“Well, yes, of course --”

“And how you want to protect him.”

Michael falls silent for a while after that, merely staring at Dean like he can’t believe he’s been so obvious. John next to him keeps quiet too, curiously glancing back and forth between king and prince, clearly intrigued by the whole situation.

Eventually Michael finds himself sighing. “ Of course I want to protect Castiel. That’s my highest priority, above everything else.”

He doesn’t sound like a ruler now.

Not like a king of a huge and influential country.

No, he sounds like a big brother ready to do anything for his younger sibling.

Dean knows the feeling very well, he shared it many times before.

“You have to understand, Castiel was always the odd one,” Michael says. “He hadn’t much interest in anything than his books and the knowledge within. And I thought that would never change. That’s why I arranged this marriage, to better his status and put him in a position of influence. Because I just know that that big brain of his will do so many amazing things for a lot of people.”

Dean seriously can’t argue with that.

“But I never considered he would ever be interested in another person, not like that,” Michael continues. “Don’t get me wrong, Dean, I know you two would have gotten along well, my brother is just likeable that way. And the stories I heard about you … well, I simply knew he’d be in good hands with you. But I never expected much beyond that, neither with you nor with anyone else. So when, despite everything, Castiel then outright told me that there is someone he loves … someone he cares about, in that way …”

Yeah, Dean totally gets that.

It would’ve shaken him up too.

“Castiel didn’t tell me much beyond that.” Michael leans back in his seat as he absently begins to play with his sleeve. “So I asked around. Many people in the university confirmed the rumors. Good, trustworthy people. And they told me everything. How they’ve seen Castiel and this man around. How happy they seemed. And some were even able to give me a name: Victor.” He shifts a little, his expression going through various stages of emotions. “Apparently he is a soldier of Winchester my brother met as he -- against my permission, as I might add -- left the university to tend to some wounded knights after an attack. Many of Castiel’s teachers and students obviously noticed the ‘spark’ happening between those two.”

He uses air-quotes, just like his brother.

Dean, meanwhile, chews on his bottom lip. He didn’t even register all these people taking notice of Dean and Castiel’s kindling relationship back then and how much it stayed in their mind even afterwards.

Huh.

“Victor, you say?” John suddenly pipes in, perking up at that name. “ Our Victor?”

He seems confused, apparently trying hard to understand the timeline of these events. And he probably won’t take long to remember that the bandit attack Michael is referring to is exactly the one that made Dean sneak out of the castle. Right at the same time as his loyal knight Victor fell victim to a nasty cold and stayed in his room the whole week, not even thinking about leaving town.

“Please don’t blame the man,” Michael is quick to add. “Sometimes fate is a strange little thing. And I just …”

He trails off, seemingly unsure what to say.

“You just want your brother to be happy,” Dean helps out, feeling something warm spreading within his chest. It’s nice to see that Michael isn’t the stone-hard man he always appears to be.

“You should have seen the look on his face when he showed me that ring,” Michael says, a soft smile on his lips. “I’ve never seen my brother like this before. And though I’m terribly sorry for all the inconvenience I just can’t force him to go through with this marriage anymore. I don’t want to break his heart.”

John reaches out at these words and squeezes his arm slightly. “I understand,” he states. “I would do the same thing for Dean. In a heartbeat.”

Dean can’t help the surprised noise coming out of his throat at that. “You would?”

John scoffs, as though the mere question is absolutely ridiculous. “Of course, son. Your happiness is the most important thing, as it was to your mother as well.”

Only Michael’s presence keeps Dean from running to his father like a little boy and pulling him in a tight embrace. Instead he settles on a gentle smile that hopefully is able to properly transfer all the emotions twirling inside of him.

“I’m glad to see we’re agreeing on this,” Michael says, looking a lot like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders just now. “And though I haven’t talked to Castiel about this yet, I’m sure he’s with us. His blatant display of affection with this Victor is cue enough that he would like our arrangement to change.”

Oh, how very wrong he is.

So wrong.

“Don’t misunderstand me, though, I will have stern words with my brother after this,” Michael adds, with emphasis. “Him being in love is no excuse for executing such severe carelessness. He could have come to me with his concerns instead of causing a nationwide turmoil and put Prince Dean in a bad spot. I’m truly sorry about this and I’m going to make sure he will apologize about this is a very public manner.”

John, however, merely grins lopsidedly. “Don’t be too hard on the boy, my friend. Love makes us do stupid things.”

Wise words indeed.

Dean at least feels outrageously stupid right now.

“Let’s just focus on our further plans for now,” John suggests. “A favorable addition to our treaty might overshadow all these ugly rumors in no time at all. Let’s just give the people something else to focus on.”

Michael looks grateful and determined at the same time. “You’re right, as always.”

As both kings seem more than ready to jump right back in, apparently already on the verge of bouncing ideas back and forth like at a tennis match, Dean clears his throat very pointedly and states, “This is really not necessary. We don’t have to change a single thing about our plans.”

He raises his hand up high, palm turned towards himself, and presents it to the two men in all its ringless glory.

Unsurprisingly Michael doesn’t understand what’s going on and simply stares at the prince in puzzlement (maybe wondering whether this is a weird Winchester tradition he has no idea how to react to), but John doesn’t take long to catch up, his eyes widening.

“Where’s your mother’s ring?”

Dean tries for a sheepish expression, but he can’t keep a dumb smile off his face as he replies, “On Prince Castiel’s finger.”

The kings blink at him, obviously not sure how to process that information.

“You mean …?”

“Because I am Victor,” Dean helps along. “Or, well, that’s the name I used to protect my identity at the time. I didn’t think it wise to blurt out my royal status in a not yet secured camp.” He grimaces at that. “And I guess I never thought about clearing that up to most people afterwards.”

The men in front of him still remain silent, only gaping as though they’re seeing Dean for the very first time.

So Dean hastily uses the opportunity to make amends.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” he rushes to say. “We never meant to cause such a havoc. I didn’t … I didn’t even consider what it might look like from the outside. I was just happy I was able to spend a few days with Cas and I guess we got a bit carried away with … uh, with our displays of affection or whatever you wanna call it … though I swear we weren’t intimate in that way, no matter what those rumors might claim otherwise … not that I didn’t want to, of course … um --”

He stops before he can talk himself into a frenzy and blushes from top to bottom, cursing himself once more for having no control where Castiel is concerned.

Meanwhile, Michael obviously regained some of his brain functions as he leans forward and assesses the prince with a piercing look, making Dean flush even more in the process.

“So … you and my brother …?

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You met him at this camp, a few weeks ago?”

Dean can’t help a stupid grin at the memory. How he first laid eyes on Castiel and thought him the most gorgeous creature on earth. How he suffered believing that wonderful man’s name was “Emmanuel”. How absolutely blessed he felt when he eventually learned the truth.

“Yes, that was the first time we met in person,” Dean confirms. “And not long afterwards I visited him at the university. Where eventually the rumors started.” He licks his lips. “But … well, we have known each other for longer. Shortly after you announced the engagement we started exchanging letters. Very often. On a weekly basis, to be honest.”

Michael lifts a brow in surprise. “After we announced the engagement? That was almost a year ago.”

John next to him looks no less astonished about that new information.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dean confesses. “We … well, at the beginning I just wanted to get to know my fiancé at least a little bit, but somehow … um, it turned into something more.”

Michael makes a humming noise at that. “I had no idea,” he mumbles, before turning toward John. “Did you know?”

John immediately shakes his head. “Me neither.”

Dean bites his bottom lip awkwardly as he depicts the slight hurt in his father’s voice. “I’m really sorry,” he hurries to apologize, bowing his head respectfully. “At first we didn’t tell anyone because we didn’t know what would come of it, you know? We didn’t want to raise false hope or anything.” He takes a deep breath. “But after a while … I guess, we started to like it the way it was. Just the two of us, no one else around. Even Sammy had no clue until recently.”

That seems to appease John right away. If Dean even took his time to share this with Sam, it probably wasn’t so bad.

“So let me get this straight,” Michael picks up his voice again, “you start to exchange letters, get to know each other in a most likely very personal manner, you meet in person, you even snuck out of the castle or at least left it under false pretenses considering your father had no clue what was going on either, you get very familiar and close in front of countless eyewitnesses who you totally forgot had no idea who you actually really were, causing a huge wave of rumors breaking over both our kingdoms along the way. Did I get this all right?”

Dean squirms uncomfortably. “... yes.”

Michael stares at him.

And stares.

And eventually he bursts out laughing.

-----

He laughs and laughs and laughs.

And in-between he orders his manservant, who apparently knows the perfect people to spread new gossip as fast and efficiently as possible, to circulate the “right” rumors, being absolutely confident that the public will eat it up greedily.

“Everyone enjoys a good love story.”

And then he continues laughing.

With apparently no intention to ever stop.

-----

At some point Dean finds himself alone with his father. John studies him for a moment with an almost unbearable soft expression before pulling him into a quick, yet tight hug.

“You happy, son?” he asks, his voice as gruff as ever, his eyes, however, so bright Dean hasn’t seen in quite a while.

So Dean doesn’t hesitate to smile back widely. “Very much so.”

John nods and squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “I have to admit, over the course of last year I got worried I made a mistake. Found myself wondering more often than not whether I should ask Michael to dispose of the marriage paragraph in the treaty. After all, your mother and I fell in love the traditional way and deep down I was hoping for something similar for you, too. You and Sammy.”

Dean tilts his head. “So you seriously would’ve called off the whole thing if I had asked you to?”

John nods. “Instantly.”

The warm sensation in Dean’s chest even intensified. “Thank you, Dad,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “But I guess everything turned out alright in the end.”

More than alright even.

“Lucky us,” John agrees. “And I’m absolutely thrilled you’re so happy.”

Dean can’t keep himself from blushing. “Uh …”

“I mean, it’ll come in handy, with you having to spend the rest of your existence in your chambers for sneaking out of the castle a second time.” John’s smirk suddenly turns very mischievous. “You can be happy while staring at the same walls every single day.”

Dean grimaces. He kinda hoped his father forgot about the entire thing, but unfortunately John’s memory is as sharp as ever.

But instead of dwelling on it for too long Dean thinks of Castiel, of the beautiful days they spent together and the many more that are about to come.

“Worth it.”

Chapter Text

The next two months feel like the longest Dean’s ever experienced.

Of course from a rational point of view he’s well aware that a couple of weeks pass quickly, especially if you’re rather busy (and despite being confined to his chambers most of the time his father made very sure his son wouldn’t have any chance to get bored, with a diabolical grin handing over all the paperwork he could find, not just about urgent matters but also about some truly ancient stuff no one even bothered to think of for at least ten decades or so). Dean is actually occupied more than enough to see the days fly by in record speed.

And yet instead time seems to slow down. Castiel’s arrival and their wedding appears further than ever before.

The fact that Castiel is so deeply buried in his studies and exams that he barely has time to write to Dean more than a few lines surely doesn’t help matters either. Naturally Dean never complains even once, of course he knows how important this is to his fiancé, and Castiel still fiercely tries to cram as many powerful emotions as possible in just a couple of sentences, but Dean’s chest clenches nonetheless.

God, he misses Castiel. He even can’t barely sleep at night without that warm body lying next to him -- which is kinda ridiculous because Dean was fine being alone in his bed his whole life and now after just two nights with Castiel and he’s lost forever?

What has become of him?

-----

Over the course of those weeks he transforms into a major pain in everybody’s ass.

Sure, he used to be a dick before -- he’s actually rather proud of the reputation he gained over the years --, but this was nothing compared to his pining and moody self right now. 

It’s actually all kinds of pathetic.

But he can’t help himself. As soon as he spots some lovey-dovey couples in his vicinity -- and suddenly they seem to be everywhere -- he finds himself remembering that Castiel is still so far away. He wants to touch, to kiss, to laugh, and instead there is nothing.

Yeah, it’s about freaking time his damned fiancé comes to Winchester!

For his sake.

And for everyone else’s who has to deal with Dean’s mood swings.

-----

Then the day finally arrives.

Dean has been giddy all over the place the last couple of days, so excited to see Castiel again he didn’t even consider to compose himself and act like a man of his station. John shot him countless pointed glares in that time, but simultaneously there was always a small smile flickering over his lips, so Dean never took him too seriously.

When Dean spots the group of carriages slowly arriving, driving down the pavement, he nervously shifts his weight from one leg to the other. He feels confined in his traditional attire John forced him to wear for this special occasion and he knows that countless eyes are glancing over to him every few seconds -- family, courtiers, nobles, mere people who wouldn’t miss this event for the world --, making him anxious in the process, but at the same time he couldn’t give a damn.

Castiel’s last few letters had been so hopeful, so excited to finally start their lives together, that nothing would be able to dampen Dean’s mood now. Not even a rain pour or an inconveniently timed apocalypse.

When Castiel eventually climbs out of the carriage, looking tired after the long journey in the probably not most comfortable manner, yet still so beautiful, Dean’s feet find themselves moving on their own accord. He’s fairly aware that there’s actually a special etiquette to follow in case of such an important visit and that he shouldn’t jump the queue before the king, but he just can’t help himself.

Seeing Castiel, on Winchester’s ground, his blue eyes so bright they’re even blinding from a distance, it’s absolutely impossible for Dean to remember any kind of protocol.

So before Castiel even manages to take a look around Dean is already in front of him, pulls him close and presses a soft kiss onto his lips. Castiel gasps in surprise at first, clearly not expecting to be attacked like that out of the blue, but only a second later he simply melts into Dean’s embrace, all the tension in his muscles loosening at once.

Dean surely shares the sentiment.

He certainly hears the people watching the scene react in various ways to their crown prince being so bold -- there’s laughter and cooing, but also astonished murmurs and unimpressed scoffs -- and once again, he doesn’t give a single crap.

The only thing important right now is Castiel right here in his arms.

“Welcome to Winchester, Cas,” Dean whispers against his lips and is instantly rewarded with the broadest smile.

“I missed you,” Castiel admits, a wonderful light red tinging his cheeks. “And I’m happy to be finally here.”

How is Dean to react to this in any other way than with another gentle kiss?

Because his fiancé is with him at last, smiling and blushing in the most wonderful manner, and there is standing nothing between them and a glorious future now.

Lucky him.

-----

Dean has no idea how long it takes him to eventually entangle himself from Castiel. It felt way too short a time, but according to the either giddy or unimpressed faces staring back at him from all corners it probably has been way longer than he realized.

So he straightens his jacket, clears his throat and finally decides to recall the proper protocol.

John, at least, seems to switch between reproachful and amused as he shoots his son a pointed side glance before introducing himself to Castiel and welcoming him to the family.

Next in line is Sam who appears to be brimming underneath his skin with excitement and it’s probably only due to their father standing right next to him that he doesn’t fling his long arms around Castiel’s neck and press him against his chest until he’d be close to suffocating. But considering the bright light in his eyes that’s a fate Castiel won’t be able to escape as soon as they’re gonna be in a more private setting.

And Dean seriously can’t wait for Castiel to interact with his family.

He knows they will get along splendidly. 

He hopes.

-----

As it turns out there never was any need to worry: Castiel and his family quickly fall in love with each other.

John certainly values Castiel’s wit and vast intellect and the fact that he’s obviously the only person on earth who gets rather passionate about things like harvest statistics and accounting reports. The king seems fairly pleased to have someone at his side during the council meetings who could actually contribute to or even lead the discussions instead of feigning interest and falling asleep countless times. 

But he also seems to genuinely appreciate Castiel on a personal level. At least the closest Dean gets to an emotional talk with his father is a gruff “I like the way he makes you smile” and that is that.

No more words needed.

Sam, of course, takes an instant shine on Castiel. It appears for the first few days his little brother is mostly occupied telling him all of Dean’s embarrassing childhood stories (those ones so awkward and mortifying even Dean never mentioned them in their letters) and they have the time of their lives exchanging all those memories and anecdotes. 

Soon enough, however, they switch their topics to books and research and all the nerdy stuff that sometimes is super hard to follow. As expected they ardently talk for hours and hours about all the big questions in the world while simultaneously morphing into best buddies so fast Dean can’t help a smug grin watching the transformation.

It’s quite beautiful seeing the most important people in his life getting along so great.

The perfect beginning.

-----

The wedding is scheduled about a week after Castiel’s arrival in Winchester.

And both Dean and Castiel have no hand in it whatsoever.

It’s a big show, a huge party organized by John and Michael to celebrate their alliance. To solidify their unity. 

It’s about treaties and pacts and power and economy. Dean and Castiel’s connection is barely a side note in this whole event. 

Neither of them is surprised about this, of course. After all, their engagement started merely as the means to the end. And though the situation might’ve changed due to their developing relationship and also the fact that the rumors about their love story spread like wildfire among their kingdoms, people eating it up excitedly, just as anticipated, the entire happening is still foremost a political issue.

Dean arranged himself with that a long time ago. Even as a young boy he knew he would never have a small and simple wedding. Not as the crown prince and future king of Winchester.

And who cares? As long as it’s Castiel who will stand right beside him at the altar, everything is perfectly well.

However, sometimes Dean can’t keep himself from wondering -- what if?

-----

It’s the morning of their wedding when Dean finds himself at the window of their bedroom staring down into the courtyard.

It’s one big swarm out there, people hurrying along, decorating, preparing, barking orders left and right. It’s colorful and wild and overall a much bigger spectacle than he ever imagined and Dean can’t help sensing an uncomfortable squeeze in his chest.

It feels like he’s an outsider to all of this. A stranger only passing by.

And he suddenly realizes how deeply disappointed he is by this. 

Yes, of course he knew basically since birth that he wouldn’t have any say in this matter, therefore he never dared to even picture his perfect wedding day. It would’ve been only a waste of his time. 

But now, with Castiel, everything is different.

Dean is unable to fight back the want.

He wants something personal. Something intimate. Just like with their letters, only the two of them and their feelings for each other.

It sounds like a dream.

An unachievable dream.

“This is turning into a proper circus,” a deep voice suddenly rumbles very close to his ear, making Dean jump in his skin.

Over the last few days he learned a lot of things about Castiel he didn’t know before and one of them is that the guy is constantly walking on silent feet and appears out of thin air without any warning whatsoever, startling so many people in the process it’s actually a miracle nobody died of a heart attack yet.

Maybe that’s the reason Castiel decided to study in the medical field. So he’d able to save all the people he unintentionally scares into an early grave.

“Yeah,” Dean grunts, hoping to cover up his own little moment of fright as he straightens his shoulders. “It’s, uh … it’s a lot.”

Castiel steps closer to the window and looks down curiously. “There are even jugglers. And acrobats.”

Dean can’t help a scoff. “Yeah, my father likes to do everything with style.”

Castiel hums, studying the courtyard intently, while Dean finds himself staring at his fiancé instead. His hair is an absolute mess, his left cheek still has the imprint of the pillow, and overall he’s rumpled and drowsy and the most wonderful thing Dean ever laid eyes on.

It’s been amazing waking up to him every single day so far and he can’t wait to continue doing this for the rest of their lives.

“You’re not happy about this, though,” Castiel suddenly jerks him out of his thoughts. “Right?”

Dean blinks in confusion, his reverie totally tuning out anything else. “Um, what?”

“This,” Castiel repeats, pointing at the ocean of people downstairs. “You’re not happy about this.”

Dean sighs. For a second he considers waving it off and distracting Castiel with a good morning kiss, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to start this marriage with things unsaid between them.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond thrilled to marry you, Cas” he emphasizes as he takes Castiel’s hand and lets his finger run over his mother’s ring on his finger. “I can’t wait to call you my husband.”

Castiel smiles gently at that. “Neither can I.”

Though there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind Dean surely loves to hear that.

“And this ,” he continues, pointing at the courtyard, “I don’t really care about this. I mean, we both knew we would never have any say concerning the wedding ceremony, right? At least I’ve been aware from a very young age. I never wasted my time imagining my dream wedding or whatever.”

He squeezes Castiel’s hand softly. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing important right now is marrying you. Who cares how we end up there?”

He presses his lips against Castiel’s and revels in the magnificent sensation. His skin tingles every single time and he hopes that will never go away.

“Do you have one, though?” Castiel wonders, his hand cupping Dean’s cheek. “A dream wedding, I mean?”

Dean snorts and ducks his head. “It doesn’t matter …”

“Just humor me, my love.”

Dean pulls a face. That’s clearly unfair, using sappy pet names, perfectly aware that Dean is unable to resist them.

He’s weak like that.

“You’re not playing fair, Cas.”

“I know, Dean. Get used to it.”

“You’re really a menace. Sometimes I wonder why I love you.”

Castiel grins amused. “I assume it’s because I’m such a joy to be around.”

He’s obviously quoting his fiancé here and Dean never adored him more.

What the hell did he do to deserve something so awesome?

“How about I tell you about my dream wedding then?” Castiel proposes, lifting his eyebrows in question. “Since you insist on being so difficult.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but can’t keep a fond smile off his face. “I’m not difficult …”

“You kinda are, honey.”

“Stop being cute, it’s annoying.”

“You love it.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you want to hear about my dream wedding or not?” Castiel steps closer as he chuckles at Dean’s antics. “Because I have a feeling you might like it.”

For a second Dean considers making a little more fuss, only to be a jackass, but in the end Castiel’s striking blue eyes turn his knees into jelly once more. So he sighs overly dramatically and says, “Okay, fine, tell me.”

He refrains from mentioning that he’s actually curious to hear Castiel’s answer.

“It’s quite simple, to be honest,” Castiel states, his voice suddenly so warm Dean feels his insides starting to melt. “Just you and me. That’s it.”

Dean frowns at the severe lack of any details. “That’s it?”

“I don’t care about the location, the food, the music, or whatever.” Castiel scoffs, as though these things are absolutely ridiculous to even think about. “Only you and me, that is all that matters. Might be in a dark cave, an open field, even a busy hallway. Who cares?”

Dean tries to shake his head in fond exasperation, but if he’s being true with himself he fantasized about more of less the exact same scenario many times before as well.

“You know, back in the days people didn’t need priests and ceremonies and big festivities,” Castiel explains, his intense gaze settling on Dean like it never did before. “The only thing important were two people and their connection with each other. Nothing else necessary.”

Dean raises a brow while he wills his heart not to go too crazy. “What are you saying, Cas?”

Castiel smiles, his fingers still on Dean’s cheek rubbing his skin softly. “Will you marry me, Dean?” he whispers. “Here? Now?”

For a long moment Dean doesn’t know how to react and simply stares at his fiancé with wide eyes.

Then he chuckles nervously.

“Yeah, right.”

His dismissive tone does absolutely nothing to discourage Castiel. On the contrary, he scoots closer, his body warmth radiating.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

Dean licks his lips. “But … I’m in my night clothes. We both are.”

Not that it isn’t an appealing sight, Castiel all rumpled and cozy. However, it’s not exactly the appropriate outfit for a freaking wedding.

Castiel, though, disagrees. “Why should that be a problem? Don’t tell me you have any issues getting married in your pajamas?”

Dean blinks.

And blinks some more.

“Uh …”

Actually, he has to admit, it sounds really fucking awesome.

Who wouldn’t dream about getting married in their comfortable pajamas?

“You’re … you’re really serious?” Dean huffs a breath as Castiel nods in response. “I didn’t even comb my hair yet, man.”

Castiel laughs, the sound truly beautiful. “I can assure you you look amazing, Dean. Very dashing.”

Dean has no idea whether he’s being teased or not, but before he’s able to ask any further Castiel has some sort of soft cord in his hand and wraps one end around his wrist. 

“Dean,” he breathes. “For a very long time I didn’t even fathom spending one single second imagining my dream wedding. It seemed like something from another world, alien and foreign in all the ways possible. I had no interest wasting my precious time with such odd fantasies.” His smile grows wider. “And then suddenly you came along and everything changed.”

He tentatively offers the other end of the band to Dean, his gaze questioning. And Dean knows what he’s asking, has read about it in books so old they almost fell apart in his hands, and though he’s aware this would technically have no official significance and it shouldn’t really matter anyway, his throat tightens up at the meaning of all of this.

Yes, it might not hold up in court or whatever, but here is Castiel, asking him to take his hand in marriage.

Just the two of them.

No one else.

The perfect wedding.

So Dean finds himself nodding, enthusiastically and probably all kinds of dumbly, and just a second later the ribbon is tied around his wrist as well.

United.

“You changed my life for the better,” Castiel continues, his eyes getting a bit misty as he looks deep into Dean’s soul. “In ways I could never imagine. I feel such love blooming inside of me, just looking at you, just being with you. Even just thinking about you. I’m the luckiest man under the stars.”

Dean swallows.

He certainly wasn’t prepared to make any kinds of vows, especially before even something akin to breakfast in his belly, and Castiel probably doesn’t even expect poetry or big love declarations, most likely absolutely happy with a simple kiss. But it’s his freaking wedding and Dean should be damned if he can’t get sappy now!

“Cas,” he says, his voice dangerously croaky, “I … I’m not an expert talking about my feelings. I mean, give me a piece of paper and a pen and I get all emotional on you, but saying it out loud? Into your face? It’s kinda scary.”

He squirms anxiously, but instantly calms down as Castiel links their fingers with each other while patiently waiting for what is about to come.

“But … I wanna try,” Dean goes on, licking his lips anxiously. “‘Cause you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cas. All my life I thought that the most I could hope for was an amicable marriage. An ally. A friend. And in the end I really got that. Because you are my ally, you are my friend. My best friend, even.” He heaves a deep breath. “But at the same time you’re so much more. I’ve never imagined I could ever be so lucky and part of me still believes I’m dreaming or something. If you would’ve told me about a year ago I’d fall madly in love with someone via letters, without ever having met that man in person, I would’ve laughed right into your face. Because things like that, they don’t happen, right?”

Dean can’t help a breathy chuckles as he thinks about the naive guy he once was. About the idiot who didn’t dare to consider he might find the love of his life in such a manner.

In any manner, really.

But now here they are, their hands conjoined by the band, the importance of this very moment indescribable.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You’re amazing and kind and funny and grumpy and a freaking slob -- I mean, seriously, would it kill you to pick up your goddamned socks? -- and for some unfathomable reason you adore cats and though this little demons will be the death of me one day, I can’t refuse you anything, because you’re got me wrapped around your finger, and I’m weak and pathetic around you, absolutely useless, and you’re so smart and compassionate and look at me, I’m rambling like a moron, since that is what you’re doing to me, you bastard, and just -- God, are we married now? Do you need an ‘I do’ or an ‘Amen’ or whatever or are we finished ‘cause I’m so close to rant about the most random stuff and I don’t think that’d be proper wedding vows or whatever it is we’re doing right now and I don’t --”

Thankfully Castiel finally cuts him off by grabbing Dean’s neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. For a moment Dean still keeps talking, his brain totally short-circuited, it appears, but just a second later he melts into the touch and smiles against Castiel’s lips.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much, dear husband?” Castiel teases, his eyes shining so bright they could easily have been their own galaxies.

Dean’s heart leaps excitedly at the new title -- the most valuable title he will ever get, in his opinion -- and he grins stupidly at the man in his arms.

“Then how about you shut me up?” he suggests happily.

And Castiel doesn’t hesitate to do just that.

-----

As expected the wedding John and Michael put up is grand and colorful and the hugest spectacle their kingdoms have ever seen.

Dean is prodded and pinched, forced into the most uncomfortable attire imaginable, pushed in different directions like a puppet, parked on designated spots, and overall just has no freaking say in anything that is happening.

And he doesn’t give a damn.

Because while the people around them are all flailing and fluttering he finds himself calm and happy while he exchanges glances with his husband.

His husband.

It still feels kinda surreal. 

And yet it gives him a serenity he never knew before. He is surrounded by excitement and screaming and yelling and people barking orders and still he feels like it’s just Castiel and him, nobody else. Like the noises around them aren’t even there.

In the end the ceremony itself turns out to be not as bad as the exaggerated rest. It’s actually quite personal and intimate (if you ignore the countless pairs of eyes watching them) and when Castiel officially slips the ring on Dean’s finger Dean can’t help a little sniff and shoots him a watery smile. 

And their following kiss causes a deafening hurricane of cheers and clapping -- which, in Dean’s opinion, should always be the case, out of principle.

Afterwards it’s a whirlwind of congratulations and people talking a mile a minute and being dragged in different directions before even having a chance to catch a breath, but Dean couldn’t care less because he’s married and happy and nothing would be able to spoil this day.

So instead of grumbling about so many people demanding his attention he merely smiles and links his fingers with Castiel’s.

Life is good.

-----

It’s much later in the day when Dean finds himself alone in a quiet corner at the large table, just him and a piece of pie.

The noises of hundred men and women talking simultaneously toned down a while ago -- mainly because people are both reaching the tired stage of inebriety -- and Dean decides to enjoy the calm as long as it lasts.

Until suddenly Garth appears right in front of him, seemingly out of thin air, a huge grin on his face as he hands over an envelope.

Dean takes it out of instinct, a bit bewildered why he would receive mail at his wedding at all places, but Garth rushes off before Dean is even able to open his mouth and ask the question waiting on his tongue. The prince watches him disappear in the crowd, blinking in confusion, before eventually turning his gaze to the piece of paper in his hands.

And he lifts an eyebrow as he recognizes his name written on the envelope in Castiel’s handwriting.

He instantly looks toward his husband who has been deep in conversation with Sam and Benny on the other side of the room for quite some time. They haven’t moved a single inch, still standing there with their heads pushed together and apparently highly passionate about whatever they’re debating about. Neither of them pays Dean any attention at all.

Puzzled, but also fairly curious he rips open the letter and begins to read.

Dear husband,

This will certainly not be my last letter to you but instead the first one in a very long line, documenting our lives together. And what better day to start a new chapter than our wedding?

At least this will make a nice addition to your collection. A personal memory to this wonderful day. I can’t wait to read and re-read this letter and every single one that was and that is about to follow when we’re both old and gray and wrinkled. 

Maybe even one day, many centuries from now, historians are going to find our correspondence and tell our tale to future generations. At least our love story is most definitely worth to be written down in a history book.

But for right here and now, I’m simply using this quiet moment I could spare to tell you that I love you with all my heart and that I’m beyond excited to start our new life together.

And I can’t wait for this party to be over to finally find myself all alone with you. Just like our story started. Just like our perfect little wedding this morning.

Only you and me.

Always yours,

Cas

Dean’s heart swells at least two sizes as he looks up again and sees himself confronted with Castiel’s intense gaze. 

For a moment they simply stare at each other, the world around them suddenly ceasing to exist, absolutely consumed with one another.

And after what might have been merely a few seconds or long hours Dean’s expression softens and he mouths an “I love you” at his husband.

Castiel smiles in response, bright and giddy, and mouths something back that looks suspiciously like “I want at least three cats, just so you know”.

Dean laughs.

Yes, life is really good.