Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel always had what he considered to be fairly normal dreams. For him, they might consist of revisiting his workday and sorting through a pile of paperwork, fishing off the dock at his grandfather’s old lake house, or enjoying an ice cream at the park. Completely normal events. So, when his eyes blinked open and he found himself standing in the middle of a forest, he was a little confused.

There was an unfamiliar pebble path underneath his bare feet, with just the slightest breeze ruffling his pajama pants and urging him forward. Ahead of him, trees parted around the path, lit up by the full moon hovering in the sky. Sure, it was a strange dream, but he had no reason not to continue forward, so he let his feet carry him through the trees, keeping to the path and peering ahead. It wasn’t until he had walked a handful of yards that he heard voices in the distance, and if he squinted hard enough, he could see a faint glow of light through the leaves. The glow grew as he approached until he found himself parting the branches of a willow and entering a clearing full of people.

Despite the time of night, his surroundings were bright as if it were day, and when he looked up at the sky, he was greeted by a bright moon and fireflies that glowed brighter than any variety he’s seen before. Beside him, people milled around, conversing softly with each other. There was only one word he could use to describe those around him, and the word was mythical. They appeared to be from all walks of life. Old and young, fit and out of shape, rich and poor. They were all different. Fanged, winged, covered in fur, or had the kind of pointed ears he had only seen in the illustrations of fairy tales. There were others, an entire ring of them, surrounding the clearing, but they didn’t appear to be keeping the group there, merely observing and sipping dark liquid out of their silver goblets. They were otherworldly in their beauty, and he forced himself to look away, to attempt to make sense of this dream.

He must have been the last to arrive because just as he joined the crowd intending to talk with someone and find out why they were gathered, a throat cleared and from in front of the crowd and a woman began to speak. She was beautiful, with long red hair and skin so pale it was practically glowing. “Welcome, contestants, to the elven kingdom.”

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Elves as is the Keebler variety? The kind who made shoes? He hadn’t thought of elves since he read Lord of the Rings a decade ago. Was that what this was? Was he feeling nostalgic and put himself into one of the stories? Well, he didn’t want it. He much preferred the dream where he ate ice cream and people watched from his park bench.

At the woman's words, the crowd erupted into excited cheering and Cas realized that he was the only one who saw the absurdity of the situation. He joined their clapping, not wanting to be the only confused human in the bunch, but he couldn’t stop the disappointment blooming in his gut. Even the circle of people surrounding the group, who he assumed had to be more elves, looked happy to be there. One elf in particular sprawled lazily on a crystal chair, his limbs languid and his expression cocky, seemed particularly smug about it all. A silver circlet adorned his forehead and framed gorgeous green eyes. Cas immediately disliked him.

“As you know, you are here to fight for the hand of Prince Dean.”

This time, he couldn’t hold back his snort, which remained unheard over the racket the crowd began to make. Cas crossed his arms stubbornly. Fight for a prince? A man he didn’t even know? This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. He edged out of the crowd, hoping to return to where his dream started and perhaps if he thought about it hard enough, he could change it into something else, but he was pulled back in by a beautiful brunette woman with gossamer wings. Wings! He stared at them as they fluttered at her back, forgetting his escape completely, and listened as she babbled about the possibility of being a princess.

“I don’t—” he began, ready to loudly voice his disapproval of the whole thing, but the redhead was already continuing.

“Please form a line. You will be formally presented to the prince, and then we can let the games begin!”

People scrambled to form a line, jostling each other for a place near the front. The fairy abandoned him, racing towards the beginning of the line, and leaving him to stare after her. “This is crazy,” he muttered. With one last glance at the quickly forming line, he turned on his heel and marched towards the trees.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the redhead appeared in front of him, her green eyes locking him into place. She was even more beautiful up close, and he was finally able to see the pointed tips of her ears peeking out of her hair and her dusting of freckles.

He sighed, his escape once again thwarted. “What’s going on here?”

She squinted. “Oh, you’re the human contestant from the mortal realm. I knew this would happen. Well, you are here for the chance to defeat these men and women in several battles for the hand of our prince!” she pulled him towards the line, her robed arm pointing to the man the line had formed in front of. He wasn’t surprised to see it was the cocky elf from earlier. “Not to the death, of course. That was outlawed centuries ago!”

Closer, the elven prince was even more beautiful. Divine. His skin glowed golden, boyish freckles dotted his nose and highlighted his cheekbones. Green eyes studied the people assembled, giving them once overs and looking very pleased with the turnout. Clearly, Cas’s imagination outdid itself when it conjured the image of the elven prince, and he wondered if he had ever seen the man in real life before. He couldn’t have done a better job if he tried.

Cas pursed his lips and dug his heels into the ground, forcing them to stop. “I’m not interested.”

As if he had spoken into a microphone, the clearing quieted and he could feel everyone looking at him. The woman’s smile froze on her face, and when she finally broke out into a forced chuckle, it was with panic in her eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“No. You want me to marry that man? I don’t think so.”

“But he’s a prince! Soon to be a king!”

Even thinking about it was making him tired. “As I said before, I’m not interested. That is far too much responsibility. I’m barely able to handle my workload as it is. And besides, I know nothing about his policies.” Finally, he turned to the slack-mouthed prince. “What’s your stance on climate change? What are your political policies? Where do you stand on a woman’s right to choose? Indigenous issues?”

Prince Dean gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing several times before Cas rolled his eyes and turned away, ignoring him. “See? I couldn’t marry a man like that.”

“Listen, if you don’t fight, you’ll be disqualified.”

“Perfect. I pick disqualification.”

“But he’s a prince! You’ll—”

He took a step away. “I’ll be leaving now.”

With one final pitying glance at the shocked men and woman watching him from the line, he gave them an awkward wave, and finally left the clearing, rejoining the pebbled path and retracing his steps. The dream faded, and when he woke the next morning, he remembered nothing of the strange gathering.

Chapter Text

“This is a bad idea.”

Dean ignored Charlie and paced in his quarters. What he was planning was big. Something that he’s never done before and that his father would never agree to. Thankfully, what his father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and when King John did find out, Dean would be too far for it to matter. Hopefully. His dad could consider it Dean’s revenge for missing such an important competition.

“The king will kill you,” Charlie added as if she had read his mind. “What is the word for that? Filicide?”

“The king,” he forced out, pausing in his pacing to walk to his wardrobe. “Is away on a trip to the woodland realm. I’ll be long gone by the time word gets to him. If I play my cards right, I have a few weeks before they send someone to get me.”

He could feel Charlie watching him as he rummaged through his wardrobe. Dean knew as well as she did that he wouldn’t find anything he could wear to the human realm. He had only the best: mantles heavily embroidered with patterns becoming of elven royalty, robes in silvers and golds with long-sleeves that trailed behind him gracefully, and as he pushed through the silks, wools, and furs that made up his wardrobe, he became increasingly frustrated. Dean had never been to the human realm, but even he knew humans didn’t wear this stuff. In fact, they mostly wore pants, which royal elves did not wear. At least, not the royals in his kingdom. While he had thick hose to keep his legs warm in the winter, they looked nothing like the pants that the human had worn. The human’s pants were loose things, patterned with crisscrossing lines that formed boxes. His torso had been covered with a strange sort of tunic, white and short with sleeves that didn’t even cover his impressive biceps.

She stepped up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his desperate search for something, anything that wouldn’t look out of place. “He’s going to be mad, you know. Really mad.”

Dean stepped away in annoyance, and her hand fell to her side. “What’s that saying? It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“Dean.”

“I’m going.”

She groaned. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Just leave that poor human alone.”

“He insulted me! He must—you know, pay for it.”

“He insulted your pride,” she corrected. “Just pick from the pool of ladies and gentlemen who are actually interested, and call it a day. We’d have to reschedule, of course, after you stormed out of there, but I’m sure—”

“I didn’t storm out; I made a swift retreat.”

“It was impulsive.”

“It was calculated.”

“So, you planned to leave me to sort out your mess and send everyone home? Thanks for that. Now I’ll have to reschedule and prepare the arena again. The swordsmith is not going to like this.”

“Give me two weeks, and when I come back, we can reschedule the stupid thing. I’ll pick someone and we can be done with it.”

“Can’t you just pick someone now? What are you even planning?”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his closet. Sure, he was pissed that that human walked out of the contest like that. In fact, he had never been so insulted in his life than when that human looked at him like he was—he didn’t even know. Dirt on the bottom of his shoe? Garbage? People fawned over him and adored him. He was a prince, and he’d be a king someday. It was his birthright to have his pick of a partner, so to have someone reject him like that? In front of his father’s councilors and his extended family? In front of all those strangers? It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. The way they had all gasped and whispered to each other behind their hands would be seared into him mind far beyond when he decided to travel to the undying lands. So no. He couldn’t just pick one of them. He’d need an entire new batch of people.

But this trip wasn’t even about that. Ok, it was a lot about that. Dean was fully intending on finding that guy and kicking his ass. But… it was more. He knew he was, objectively, a horrible prince, although no one would ever tell him that to his face. Dean was too bold. Uncouth and outspoken. He couldn’t be trusted to attend any meetings because he constantly put his foot in his mouth and according to his dad, made everything worse. As a prince, he could get away with it, but he knew that the minute he got married, things would change. His dad was pushing four thousand years old, two thousand of which were spent ruling his kingdom, and he was ready to travel to the undying lands with Queen Mary. When that happened, Dean would be king, and all the responsibility would fall to him.

Well, he and his spouse. His mom refused to leave until she could see Dean married, and he put it off as long as he could, but now...he was starting to feel guilty. With every decade that passed, his dad grew more and more frustrated with him and his mom was more vocal about leaving. It was time to step up, but first, he needed a vacation, and he needed it badly. If the perfect excuse just happened to fall into his lap, then who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“You don’t even know, do you? Are you even listening to me?”

“Do you think Sam’s winter hose would be loose enough to pass as human pants?” And before she could stop him, he left his room. Dean could hear Charlie following behind him, probably winding up for another argument, but he was too fast. He picked up the end of his mantle and ran down the palace hall and into his brother’s wing. Being the more ‘polished’ son, Sam always accompanied his father on his diplomatic trips, and because of that, he had a large collection of clothes from all of the elf kingdoms. If he was going to find anything, it would be in his brother's rooms.

“Wait!” She hissed, skidding to a halt next to him when he finally reached his brothers rooms. “Why don’t you talk to the dockworkers? They take people to the human realm all the time. Surely they’ll have something you can wear.”

That was a great idea, except for one glaring problem. “Do you think they’ll tell on me?”

“Maybe, but do you really care? Your dad and brother are in the wood elf kingdom. Even if they sent the king a message today, it would still take him at least a week to return.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to the dock guy. If I’m going to find this human, I’m going to need to blend in.”

“He has a name, you know.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he does. Now, I think it's time to head out. You coming with me to the docks?”

“Why not? I’m already going to get fired.”

“I’m not going to let him fire you.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll take the back way out and meet you near the gates.”

He watched Charlie go and took the long way out of the castle, strolling as calmly as he could. It wasn’t odd for the prince to leave the palace, but it would be odd if they caught him lurking around the corners like a criminal. When he was finally out of the palace, he turned towards the path that would take him through the village, and headed straight towards the docks, stopping as needed to talk to his people and show anyone who might be watching that everything was fine. Nothing to see here.

Using the moonlight to guide him, he walked until Charlie appeared beside him, eyes shifty with their secret, but still his stalwart companion. She was surprisingly quiet during the walk, not saying a single word about how bad of an idea this was, or how much trouble he would be getting into when he returned.

Together, they turned off the main street to the docks, where he would soon be able to get ferried to the human realm. He had a story, something about a diplomatic mission he hadn’t fleshed out yet, but everything he could think to say sounded like an outright lie. The captain was there as always, ready and waiting for royals who wished to travel the realms, and watched him expectantly as he approached.

“Hey, uh…I have a thing. In the human realm.” He cringed at his own words, but they were already out of his mouth and there was no taking it back.

The man seemed uninterested in his reasons, and barely even glanced at Charlie before nodding to the prince. “Yes, your majesty. Do you require an amulet?”

“An amulet?”

“To cloak your true appearance?”

He reached up to touch his pointed ears. “Yes. And clothes.”

“And currency,” Charlie added, shooting him a raised eyebrow.

“Take this charm.” The captain held an amulet out to Dean and waited for him to take the black corded pendant. “This will cloak your features, and enable you to fit in with the humans.” He reached into a wooden chest and pulled out a shoulder bag. “Here are clothes in your size and a card containing human currency.”

He shouldered the bag and put the amulet on with a small amount of trepidation, and immediately, his ears tingled and his body flushed cold. Dean shivered at the sensation and reached up to feel them, discovering a rounded helix. He turned to Charlie; his face pinched with worry. “How do I look?”

She squinted at him in the dark. “You look… dull.”

Dean frowned and glanced at his hands, finding that she was right. Not only had his ears been rounded down, but his bright complexion, the characteristic that set him apart as a sun elf, was gone. Instead of a glowing undertone of gold, his hands were now flushed with undertones of pink. “I look sick. Is this what humans look like?”

“You didn’t get a good look at the human last night?”

“Of course, I did.” He smiled through the lie, unwilling to admit that he had been too busy mooning over the human’s gorgeous blue eyes to get a good look at the rest of his face.

“No, you were too busy staring at that fairy. Why can’t you just marry her?”

“Well, she didn’t win the competition.”

“That’s because you ran off! There was no competition!”

“I told you, I didn’t--”

“Do you even want to get married?”

That was the important question, wasn’t it? He wasn’t totally against it. Dean had been of age for a while, and the idea of marriage was starting to grow on him. In a perfect world, he’d be able to find his own spouse, not pick from a pool of suitors. He’d be able to talk to them, really get to know them. But this wasn’t a perfect world, and he was the crown prince. Whoever won the competition won the right to marry him. He hated the thought of marrying a stranger, but that was his life. As a prince, he was nothing but a tool.

Dean pursed his lips and tore his eyes from his new complexion, ignoring her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better. I’ll try and cover for you as long as I can, but you better get back before the king does. I don’t want to be the one to explain what happened.”

He pulled away and stepped onto the boat, finding a seat on a wooden chest and getting comfortable for the long ride to the waterfalls that separated the realms.

Chapter Text

When Cas bought his house five years ago, he was excited for the small-town life with kind neighbors, block parties, and everything the Hallmark movies he loved told him to expect. Lawrence Kansas would be a huge change from his rented studio in Chicago, but he was looking forward to being able to slow down for a change.

On his right lived an older woman named Missouri, a retired postal worker turned part-time nanny who made the best chocolate chip cookies he’s ever had in his nearly forty years of life. She could be found on her porch most afternoons, sipping homemade lemonade or sweet tea, and reading dime store romance novels. He learned pretty quickly that she knew a lot about herbs, and could make a special tea that would knock your headache out in under five minutes. Every few weeks she would bring him homemade balms and creams, ready to fix anything from dry skin to bruises. She reminded him of his sister Anna, who would always send him off with special crystals, and sometimes sneak small satchels into his pocket that were meant to protect.

On the other side, sat a large white colonial with a spacious wraparound porch. With how nice Missouri had been, he was sure that his other neighbors would be just as wonderful. He'd hoped to catch the owners outside in the weeks that followed his move, but there never seemed to be anyone home. Missouri was the one to break the news to him. The house wasn’t a full-time residence, rather it was a vacation home to some rich weirdos and their extended family. She hadn’t said they were weirdos, of course, but he could read between the lines.

“A vacation home in Kansas? Seems odd.” he commented, mentally calculating how many of her fresh chocolate chip cookies he could eat before she took them away or he got sick, whichever came first. He grabbed two more off the plate just in case.

She gave him a look that immediately made him feel bad for judging people he’s never met and took a long sip of her lemonade before replying. “Some people just like to get away from the city for a while. Who are we to judge?”

That, he completely understood. Getting away from the city was exactly why he bought his home in Lawrence. If he were rich, he’d probably want a vacation home in the middle of nowhere as well. A large ranch with a garden and chickens, maybe even goats and of course a few beehives. That was his goal, anyway. Cas knew it would take time, but he’d eventually like to have a vegetable garden, some farm animals, and a few cats. The thought gave him a sense of kinship with his mystery neighbors, and it was with a sense of excitement that he waited for a chance to finally meet them. A few months later, that chance still hadn’t come, and he eventually gave up home of meeting them any time soon.

It was almost a shock when he came out of his home office early one morning to rewarm his long-forgotten tea and saw a movement in the house next door. He immediately put the cup of tea down, slipped on his shoes, and booked it next door. Remembering that Missouri had mentioned they were wealthy, he expected to be met with a small family of slightly eccentric yet good-hearted people, but what he was met with was a pair of adult men who practically dragged him into their home the moment they opened the door, and immediately began peppering him with questions. How long was food safe to keep in the refrigerator? What was a typical breakfast for him? How many hours of sleep did he require? What was the functionality of his sweater vest? They even asked Cas to come in and show them how to work the washing machine. He walked away from the conversation feeling confused. How did two grown men not know how to work a washing machine? Were they so rich that even the most basic of tasks were performed for them?

They were gone almost as quickly as they appeared, seemingly disappearing overnight. It was months before they were back, and this time with guests. If Cas thought they were weird, he wasn’t close to being prepared to witness a man who looked to be in his fifties walk into their backyard as naked as the day he was born, and roll around in the grass like a dog before sauntering back inside as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Cas was never one to judge what someone did on their own property, but…

He ended up hiding in his house for the two weeks they were there, not wanting to be pulled into another conversation or asked how to use an appliance again. When they finally left in the middle of the night, the house remained empty for half a year before Sam and John finally returned, alone this time. There was no pattern to their coming and going, but his annoyance at their behavior soon turned to acceptance, and that acceptance quickly turned to entertainment. It was hard not to be amused when you were faced with someone eating an oatmeal raisin cookie with a knife and fork. He found himself making an effort to come over with treats whenever they appeared just to see what they’d do with them, and while Missouri didn’t agree with his reasons for supplying them with a constant flow of pastries, she appreciated him befriending them. It wasn’t a surprise when she confessed to him that the other neighbors didn’t take kindly to the occupants of that house. With Missouri gone often to visit family, it made sense that they had latched onto him for help, rather than the other rude neighbors.

Hearing that only made befriending them more of a mission. It didn’t take him to realize that while Sam was sheltered, he was also incredibly smart. In getting to know him, he learned that Sam was in the “Family Business”, but never clarified what that was, exactly. From what he could gather, it was something to go with endless meetings and trips, and considering how rich they were, they were probably CEO’s of some kind. Being able to sit down and listen to him explain how he was able to negotiate with a rival business (at least, he was pretty sure it was a business) was fascinating. And while Cas was able to ask him almost anything, he was a complete open book to Sam, and Sam seemed to be very interested in Cas. Where John’s inquiries were limited to the function of the pressure cookerr, Sam asked him how work was going, who his friends were, if he was in any relationships, and even what his hopes and dreams for the future were.

They binge-watched Netflix documentaries about nature and ate takeout often enough that some restaurants were starting to recognize his phone number. Cas listened to Sam complain about his older brother, Dean, and Cas complained about his overbearing mother in return. It wasn’t long before he considered Sam his best friend, although he’d never tell Meg that. By the time Sam left after a month of staying at the house, Cas knew he would miss him and encouraged him to return as soon as he could. So, a month later when Cas noticed the light on late at night after once again wandering out of his office, he immediately started whipping up some cookie dough he’d wanted to test on Sam, grateful that he wouldn’t have to wait half a year to see his friend again. He put the dough in the freezer, unwilling to bother his friend when he was probably busy unpacking and decompressing after his late-night arrival. So the next morning, after enjoying a steaming cup of coffee on his porch and dropping by to say a quick help to Missouri, he baked a dozen cookies then made his way over to his neighbor’s house and rang the doorbell.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was an immediate crash and the sound of breaking glass. The cookie plate teetered wildly in his hand and he took a moment to put it on the porch railing before he dropped them all over the worn wood.

“Sam? John?” he called out and tentatively knocked. He reached for the handle, ready to come in and help if anyone seemed in distress.

“Fucking shit…” came a distant voice from the inside, so clearly not Sam or his father, that Cas locked up in worry and drew his hand away from the door as if it was on fire. If this was one of their strange guests, he really didn’t want to deal with them. Thinking quickly, he turned on his heel and hurried down the steps, away from the house and whoever was inside. The last time he got stuck in a conversation with one of their guests, they made it impossible for him to excuse himself politely and didn’t get out until Sam rescued him an hour later.

He didn’t even make it off the porch steps before he realized it was too late. There were already heavy sounding footsteps heading his way and closing in fast, and unless he wanted to break out in a sprint and look absolutely insane as he fled from the house, he wasn’t getting away. Before he could decide whether to run or stand his ground, the wooden door was yanked open and his eyes met vivid—and very angry—green.

“You!”

Chapter Text

Dean thought he was doing pretty well for a prince who had never been out of his own kingdom before.

The first thing he did when he arrived at the house was search his father’s study for something that would help him for the next few weeks. Knowing his dad, he’d have a notebook with useful information lying around somewhere. It only took him a few minutes to find a thick leather-bound book containing a goldmine of information. It had everything from maps of the area, detailed notes about how to obtain goods and services, and where to find a stockpile of their strange currency. Basically, everything he'd need to know in order to survive for the two weeks he’d be there. He poured through the book, absorbing the information like his left depended on it, and it kind of did. There were no servants or cooks, no one to ask for help. He was on his own.

With renewed confidence, he figured out the shower, found the pantry, and even managed to turn on the TV for a few minutes before getting overwhelmed and deciding he’d be better off going to bed and continuing his exploration in the morning when he was well rested.

Breakfast was where things began going downhill. He was able to find some foods he liked—bread and some cheese that looked fresh enough— but he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to cook it all. In the palace, the kitchen would toast the bread over a fire, but this kitchen didn't have a fireplace. His dad’s notebook had said that he could cook the food over an ‘oven’, but he had no idea what that was, let alone what it looked like. But he was a smart man, surely he’d figure it out. With that little bit of motivation, he stared at each appliance until he found one that had knobs. He read the page one more time before he grabbed one of the knobs, and turned it. Dean expected a small fire to be lit, or at the very worst, an explosion of flame, not for nothing to happen at all.

He groaned in annoyance. How did humans live like this? With their unnecessarily complicated stoves and strangely arranged houses. This morning, it had taken him far too long to remember where the toilet was, and he nearly peed himself before he found it. Dean rummaged through the cabinets until he found a glass and filled it with water from the sink. At least humans had figured out plumbing, he thought to himself while downing half the glass. That was his favorite discovery so far. He was worried he'd have to dig a hole in the forest to do his business, but instead, he found that the humans used a similar system to theirs. At least he wouldn’t dehydrate and die in the next two weeks, although starving was now becoming a real possibility. How long could he survive on dried pasta and raw flour?

Dean was about to chug the rest of his water when a loud bell chimed through the kitchen. He dropped his glass, distantly hearing it shatter through the sound of his pulse pounding loudly in his ears and his own cursing. There was a second sound, a light knock coming from the front door, and it dawned on him that whoever was at the door was probably responsible for that loud chime and his broken glass. He took a small step forward and was immediately met with the sharp poke of shattered glass on his bare feet.

“Mother fucker!” he hissed through clenched teeth, checking on his foot to find that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t pierced the skin. He skirted the mess carefully and charged to the door, ready to kick the ass of whoever was on the other side.

Without a second thought, he yanked the door open and sent his most intimidating glare to whoever was on the other side, only to be met with a sight he never expected to see.

“You!” he growled, eyes narrowing to slits as shockingly blue eyes stared back at him, wide with surprise. He’d recognize them anywhere. They had been seared into his brain for days, invading his every thought with their infuriating… blueness. He took a moment and looked the man up and down. He was still just as infuriatingly attractive as he was that night earlier that week.

What an asshole.

“Do I know you?” the man asked, face pinched in confusion, his voice just as deep as Dean remembered. He could drown in the sensation of those grumbled words reverberating in his skull.

It took a few seconds for the man’s words to click. So, the human didn’t remember him? Figured. Well that wouldn’t stop Dean from getting his revenge. Later, though. Right now, he needed to get rid of the asshole and figure out how to get himself fed. Actually… What better revenge than forcing the man to cook breakfast?

With that in mind, he reached forward and grabbed the man’s shockingly muscular forearm and pulled him into the house. The man put up no resistance, allowing himself to be pulled through the living room and into the kitchen. He stopped in front of the stove, gesturing at it in frustration. “I just want some toast.”

“Do you…” he paused, his gaze darting between Dean and the stove, brows pinched in confusion. “Need me to show you how to turn on the stove?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know how to work a stove.” Granted, the stoves back home were earthen ovens, but the journal his dad made had instructions. Turn the knob and wait for the fire. Clearly, it didn’t work. He wiggled the knob to prove it. “It isn’t working at all. It’s broken.”

The man nodded slowly and approached the stove. “Smell that? That’s gas. The stove isn’t broken…” he reached down and fiddled with the knob Dean had tried earlier. The man turned it even more and it clicked for a few moments before finally catching fire.

Oh, now that he mentioned it, he did smell something bad. “Oh.”

 “Are you used to electric stoves? I had to show John how to turn it on as well.”

“Yeah, sure.” His mind reeled at the implication of this man being familiar enough with his father, the king, to use his first name. It raised questions that Dean wasn’t ready to ask. He shook the thoughts out of his head and turned his glare once again to his target. “Well, are you going to help me make something, or not?”

The man gave him a small smile, something full of private amusement that Dean didn’t appreciate. He hated the way it lit up the man’s face. The frowny expression was attractive enough, but his smile? Fuck. “You’re Dean, aren’t you?”

Dean squinted at him, ignoring the way his heart fluttered, annoyed that this human knew who he was when Dean didn’t have a clue what his name was.

The man continued, not bothered by Dean’s silence. “You have the same necklace that your brother and father have. Well, I’m Castiel. I live right next door.”

“It’s not a necklace. It’s a talisman,” he grumbled, feeling off-kilter that things weren’t going the way he thought they would. He assumed he’d need to spend the majority of his time here searching for the man, and to find out that Castiel was his neighbor? What a strange coincidence.  Well, coincidence or not, it looked like getting his revenge would be a lot easier than he thought.

“Sorry, talisman,” he corrected, appearing sincere. “Well… I live right next door so I can help if you need anything. I know it took your family a while to get used to things. The washing machine is particularly tricky…” Castiel trailed off at Dean’s gobsmacked look.

He was offering help? On his own accord? How was he going to get his revenge if he was freely offering the very thing Dean was going to use as retaliation? He’d have to do something. Maybe if he—

“And we should probably get this glass cleaned up. Do you know where the broom is stored?” He huffed at Dean’s blank expression. “I’ll go ahead and grab it.” And then he walked around the corner and was gone for a moment before coming back with a broom and dustpan. He took care of the glass without Dean asking, and impossibly, it threw him even more off-center. When the man was done, he put the broom back and stared at the hazard-free floor with satisfaction. “Oh, I almost forgot. I made cookies. I promised them to Sam but since he's not here you are welcome to them.”

Castiel left Dean in the kitchen, disappearing briefly out the front door before reappearing with a covered plate. He held them out to Dean and the smell of apples and cinnamon hit him like a ton of bricks. “They smell like pie…” he murmured.

“That was my inspiration, actually. I hope you like them.”

He had no clue what to say. “I… uh—”

“Oh, you wanted help with breakfast, didn’t you? I would actually recommend making toast in the toaster, not on the stovetop.”

Dean watched Castiel walk to the other side of the kitchen and gesture to a small rectangular contraption. The man talked as he took the bread Dean had set next to the refrigerator and put an already sliced piece in. He looked at ease in the small kitchen, like he’d been there before and knew where everything was. It was comedic how badly his plans were going. Laughable. Now, he had to watch a handsome man bustle around his kitchen like he owned the place, his hips swaying and the scent of pine following in his wake.

He was in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

“He’s a strange one,” she started, and Cas could tell from the look on Missouri’s face that she didn’t think that was a bad thing. If he was dangerous in any way, she would be the first to know. She’d always had a sixth sense, and in all his years living next to her, he’d learned to take her ‘feelings’ very seriously. “But he’s a good man.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Cas grumbled into his glass of iced sweet tea. “I could tell he wanted me to leave, but couldn’t say it because he needed help, so he just—” he stopped himself from telling her that Dean just ordered him around while glaring at him, although it was the truth. For some reason, Dean’s attitude hadn’t bothered him at all. It reminded him of Sam in the beginning, minus the glaring and terse orders. Dean just needed help settling. He knew he probably should have gone back home the moment he felt like he wasn’t welcome, but he was so familiar with the home that he was practically an expert on how things ran. “Well, he just needed help with a few things. That’s all.”

“Just like his father, that one. That man tried to order me around too, once upon a time. I put him to rights real quick.”

“I would have loved to see that.”

She smiled a small, secret smile that let him know the scolding she gave him must have been amazing to witness. “We have an understanding, now. If Dean is bothering you, you should put that boy in his place.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Besides, he was mostly doing it for Sam. He couldn’t just leave his best friend’s brother to fend for himself. “Whatever you said to John worked because he has always been very polite. Dean, though… he’s prickly.”

“Let him get used to things. He’ll warm up soon enough.”

“To the town, maybe. I don’t think he’ll warm up to me, though.”

Her lips tilted up in a smirk. “Do you want him to warm up to you?”

His stomach fluttered. It had only been a few days since the man’s sudden arrival, and since that first meeting there had been a slowly building ache in his chest. One that pushed him to reach out and touch. It was embarrassing, the amount of times he had to stop himself from placing his hand on the man’s shoulder as they talked, or to brush up against him as they stood in the kitchen working over the stove. “What are you getting at?”

“I just want to know how you feel about him. He’s handsome, right?”

“Missouri, are you trying to matchmake?” Too many people have set him up with acquaintances and it always failed spectacularly. This would be the first time Missouri tried, though.

“Calm down. I’m not one for matchmaking. Besides, I don’t need to.”

“Well, good,” he grumped before her words caught up to him. “Wait, why don’t you need to?”

“I have a feeling that you won’t need my help in the love department, is all.” She pushed the plate of chocolate chip cookies towards him. “Now, why don’t you tell me a little more about Dean. Were you able to show him how Sam got their groceries delivered?”

Whatever feeling she was having, it was wrong. Sure, it would be the first time one of her feelings didn’t pan out, but stranger things have happened. “I did, but I think I’ll have to do it for him next week. I don’t think he has a grasp of the computer. He seemed very resistant to technology. Sam was a little more open to it, now that I think about it. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life they live when they’re not in Kansas.”

She smiled at him and refilled his glass of iced tea.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

As someone who worked from home, getting his office ready had been one of his first priorities when he moved in. Before he even unpacked the kitchen, he was setting up his desk and calling to get the Wi-Fi hooked up. Out of the two rooms he could have chosen, he had decided to go with the room in the upstairs corner. It was the closest to the restroom and had the best view. He could see most of the street from the window in front of the desk and often spent a few minutes staring out in the neighborhood to destress after annoying meetings. He had never once regretted choosing this room for his office… until Dean appeared.

Being the corner room, it had a clear view of the street — and coincidentally, the Winchester house. Any hint of movement was enough to get him to stop his work and turn his attention toward his neighbor, just hoping for a glance at the handsome man. He’s lost hours of productivity this week alone, and if he couldn’t control himself, he’d probably lose his work-from-home privileges.

Just then, there was movement in the corner of his eyes and his fingers froze on his keyboard. Dean was leaving the house and moving to the bench on the back deck, glass of water in hand. The man was wearing a flannel, unbuttoned with a faded blue shirt underneath, and jeans that had seen better days. He looked ready to enjoy a quiet afternoon on the cushioned patio bench, and that meant that until the man went back inside, Cas wasn’t getting anything done.

Cas huffed and pushed away from his desk. He might as well take a break and make himself some lunch. Ten minutes later he ended up with a ham and cheese sandwich and enough restless energy to spark a fire. He only spent a few minutes debating before scarfing down his sandwich and heading for Dean.

By the time he got to their shared gate, he could hear music blasting from a radio he had placed on the porch’s railing. He waved when the man glanced over and Dean gestured for Cas to join him.

“I found the radio!” he yelled over the noise, his eyes bright with excitement. “This was playing when I turned it on!”

Cas nodded along to the classic rock. “Do you like it?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like it?” Cas shouted, barely suppressing a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s awesome!” Dean finally turned the volume down, but his dazzling smile stayed in place. “It’s nothing like the music we have at home.”

He filed that comment away, wondering where he could possibly live that hadn’t exposed him to classic rock. Perhaps rich people listened to nothing but Beethoven. “I should have known you’d like the oldies.”

“Oldies? How old are they?”

He paused to think. “I think Led Zeppelin started making music in the seventies? So at least fifty years.”

Dean actually scoffed. “That’s old to you. For me? Fifty years is nothing. A drop in the bucket.”

Cas supposed that in the grand scheme of things, Dean was right. Fifty years was just a drop in the bucket. “That’s true. If you like Led Zeppelin, I can recommend a few other bands, too.” He pulled out his phone and opened YouTube. “Have you ever heard AC/DC?”

They spent the rest of the night dangerously close to touching while they bent their heads over Cas’s phone. Cas knew he could easily invite Dean inside and use his Alexa to play the music, but there was something intimate about watching the awe in Dean’s eyes as he was introduced to song after song, and being the one that brilliant smile was directed at.

His mind went back to the conversation he had with Missouri just a few days before. He knew she was right that his attraction to the man was simmering under the surface, but he had clearly underestimated how fast it would grow. Sure, Sam had exhibited some of the same excitement and joy that Dean had, but other than a few passing thoughts that the man was handsome, it was nothing like the way he was beginning to feel about Dean.

He was in so much trouble. 

Chapter Text

Having Cas over nearly every day was beginning to be a problem. Not only was his attraction to the man growing at a frustrating rate, everything he tried to do to stem the tide was doing the opposite. Nothing seemed to phase him. If he ordered Cas to show him how an appliance worked, he did so without complaint. Gladly, even. He was smart, helpful, generous, and kind. And devastatingly handsome. If Dean thought about it a little, those were the exact traits he wanted in the person who would rule beside him. In fact, having Cas by his side would probably be the only thing that made being a king bearable.

But he wouldn’t think about any of that.

Not at all.

He wasn’t there to find a partner. No, he was there for revenge. And a vacation. But mostly a vacation. His revenge plan was obviously a flop and he was ready to move on. Cas had already turned him down, anyway, so what was the point? He didn’t remember it, of course, but Cas had said—loudly—that he didn’t want to marry a person like Dean. That was something he’d never forget, and if Dean ever made the mistake of asking Cas to marry him, Cas would probably say the same thing.

Didn’t that fucking suck?

He needed to take a walk and clear his head a little. Back home, he’d wander around the palace until his mind felt content. But here? A few times around the block would do the trick.

Of course, the first thing he saw when he began his walk down the street was Cas himself, sitting on Missouri’s porch. He had his grumpy face on, brow pinched in a frown and full lips tipped down. He was alone, with a full glass of lemonade and an empty plate of cookies beside him.

Dean couldn’t help it. As if Cas had his own gravitational pull, he turned and headed towards the man, stepping up onto the porch and taking Missouri’s empty seat as if he belonged there. Cas grunted out a greeting, his frown shifting into something a little softer as he made eye contact with Dean.

“Hey, Cas.” He tapped the plate. “Didn’t save any for me?”

The man sighed. “Anna ate most of them.”

“Anna?” Oh no… why did his stomach just drop? He shouldn’t be getting worked up at just the name of a woman being mentioned. He wasn’t that pathetic, was he? He’d hadn’t been there long enough to get that attached to the man. Had he?

“My sister is visiting this morning. They’re inside talking about crystals or something.”

The relief he felt was like taking a breath after being underwater too long. “Crystals? Like, jewelry?”

“No. Energies, and…” He waved his fingers at Dean in an odd way, but Cas’s frown cracked and he broke into a smile at Dean’s perplexed expression. “Rose quartz for love, and jade for luck. That kind of stuff.”

“You know a lot about crystals?”

“I only remember a few. Anna gave me some last year that was supposed to be good for sleep, but… sometimes I get odd dreams so I’m not sure they’re doing anything.”

Dean thinks back to their first meeting and wonders if that had been chalked up to just another ‘odd dream.’ It made a little more sense why Cas was there in the first place, especially if his sister was dabbling in crystals.

“Is she a witch?” Dean asked, hoping that Cas was open enough to the supernatural that he wouldn’t outright laugh in Dean's face.

Cas didn’t react past a shrug. “She’s as much of a witch as Mrs. Missouri is.”

“Is Missouri a witch?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Because that would explain every question that he had about the older woman. He had met her for the first time the day after he came to this strange world, carrying a freshly baked loaf of bread, and grilled him for two hours about himself. The woman made strange comments about his relationship with his father and began making some vague predictions of the future. If Dean’s life wasn’t already steeped in magic, he might not have seen her as what she was. A seer.

Cas paused to think. “Maybe?”

“How do you feel about the supernatural?”

Cas gave him a strange look. “Vampire and werewolves?”

“All of them? Vampires, werewolves, fairies… elves…” His heart was pounding faster than it ever had, and he was moments away from breaking out in a sweat. Hell, he probably already was sweaty. Cas tended to have that effect on him.

“I suppose that as long as no one is trying to eat me…”

“Elves don’t eat people,” he replied breathlessly, shocked that Cas had such a blasé attitude toward the supernatural.

Cas smirked, and it was the most beautiful thing Dean ever saw. “I guess that depends on whose mythology you follow. I’ve seen some strange foreign films…”

He wanted to be offended that Cas viewed his people as a myth when there was a living, breathing elven man in front of him, but he was just too excited at the idea that Cas might be accepting of his heritage to make a snappy retort. He was about to needle a little more, push just a little to see what else he thought about elves, but Missouri took that opportunity to walk out of her house with a pretty redhead trailing after her.

There weren’t many similarities between the siblings, only the blue eyes and the current frown both of them were sending each other. “Don’t give me that look,” she admonished. “I haven’t seen Missouri in a month.”

“I’ve been waiting for an hour,” he complained.

Anna rolled her eyes. “We invited you in.”

Cas grumbled but said nothing, and Dean couldn’t help but break into a wide grin. “Hey, I’m Dean.”

She nodded at him. “Anna. Nice to meet you.”

Unfortunately, Anna coming out of the house seemed to be some kind of signal, because Cas stood up and nodded at Missouri and Dean. “We’re heading out for lunch. You two have a wonderful day.”

Dean watched them both leave, disappointment surely evident on his face. It took everything in him to ignore Missouri’s knowing smile and give her a polite goodbye before continuing on his walk.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

If he hadn’t been stone-cold sober, he would have thought the sight of his younger brother sitting on the living room couch was a hallucination. But he was sober and his brother was sitting on his couch. He froze, a glass of water halfway to his lips, and stared at the smug bastard. Like himself, Sam was wearing the talisman that cloaked his true appearance. With rounded ears and dull skin, Dean almost didn’t recognize him. The bitchface, though, he’d recognize leagues away.

“Found you,” was all he said.

“Shit.” He put the glass down and moved to sit next to his brother, glad he had at least put pants on before leaving the bedroom. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Be glad it’s me and not Dad. He wanted to come and drag you back, but I convinced him to let me come instead. I even convinced him to let us stay another few weeks. Now he thinks being here will be good for you. You need to learn the ropes of the earth realm eventually, so why not now? You’re welcome, by the way.”

His blood was racing so fast he needed to lay down. A few more weeks? He never would have thought he’d get so lucky. But he’d be damned if he let his brother know how grateful he was. “I thought I’d at least have a few more days before someone showed up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The trip got cut short. Apparently, their princess decided to run away with the royal manservant. You don’t remember Lord Roache, do you? His third son, Balthazar, somehow convinced Princess Hester to elope. Well, we think that's the plan. She left a note, but it was pretty vague.”

“At least he has a title,” Dean joked, remembering Hester immediately. He had mingled with her a few years earlier, mostly at his dad’s insistence, but she had seemed nice enough.

Sam scoffed. “He’s the third son, Dean. Anyways, we thought it was best to leave.”

Dean nodded his agreement but kept silent.

“So, Dean…” Sam frowned at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Shut up, bitch.”

Sam’s severe face transformed into a wide smile. “I can’t believe you ran away. Charlie said the servants searched for you for days before the advisors realized you left the realm. We missed their missive completely and learned you left once we got back home. You gave us both a heart attack before Charlie pulled me aside and let me know what happened. And really, Dean? You’re seeking some kind of revenge for—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” he interrupted. “Listen, I needed a damn break, alright? I’m not trying to get revenge or anything.” Sure, that had been his intention in the beginning, but he had abandoned that ages ago.

“Good, because I’d kick your ass if you hurt Cas,” Sam warned, a serious edge to his voice.

“Not if I kicked your ass first…” he shot back weakly. Were they really that close? He was starting to come to terms with his attraction to the human, but what if Sam had feelings for Cas? He had no doubt that if it came down to it, Cas would choose Sam over Dean in a heartbeat. Shit.

“If I find out you’ve been a jerk…”

Dean forced a scoff. “I haven’t been a jerk, ok? Calm down.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I ask him, he’ll agree?”

Dean gave another scoff, this one not quite as convincing. “Don’t be stupid. I’ve been great. A real fucking pleasure to be around.”

“Great.” He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Now that we have that settled, I’m going to go next door and say hi.”

It wasn’t until Sam was already out the door that Dean was able to react. The panic had him frozen, but once his brain caught up to the situation, he knew he was in deep shit. He didn’t have time to change, so with one sad look at his blue pajama bottoms, he jogged after him, falling into step beside his smug-looking brother. There was no way he’d let his brother go alone and tell Cas who knew what about Dean without him there to defend himself.

They made the short trip in silence, and in what felt like seconds, Sam was ringing the doorbell.

He could hear Cas coming, and all too soon the door was unlocking and the man himself was looking at the two of them in surprise.

“Hey, Castiel!” Sam greeted brightly.

The gummy smile that lit up Cas’s face was blinding in its beauty. He’d probably have a heart attack if it were directed towards him, but it wasn’t. It was directed toward his brother. That bitch. “Sam! It’s so good to see you again.”

Sam shot back a similarly wide smile and stepped towards the man. In the blink of an eye, they embraced in a tight hug.

Jealously coursed through his veins. He wanted one of those. Cas looked like he gave amazing hugs. How couldn’t he? He was a bulky guy with strong arms. He probably smelled fucking amazing too. Maybe… No. He couldn’t. Could he? Maybe he could act out one more little tiny piece of ‘revenge’ on the man, and make Cas hug him too.

That thought pretty much settled it. With a glare to his brother, as if to say ‘Look, we’re friends too’, Dean stepped forward the moment their hug ended and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Cas. He can tell he shocked the man, but he was finding it hard to care. Dean had been right. It felt amazing to wrap his arms around the man, slightly shorter than Dean but so wonderfully muscled that he itched to graze his fingertips up and down the man's back to test the span of his shoulders.

Finally, after an eternity, Cas brought his arms up and returned Dean's embrace. It was firm, confident, and he should have stopped himself, but he found his cheek lowering into the space at the crook of Cas’s neck.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas rumbled, and the way his voice vibrated against his cheek sent sparks dancing through his body. This was such a bad idea, but—he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He did smell good. Like a rainy day and something uniquely Cas, and just the slightest hint of sweat. It was manly and intoxicating and in that moment, he could no longer deny that he was more than halfway to being in love with the man.

Chapter Text

The hug had been surprising.

Shocking.

At the time, he was still riding on the high of seeing Sam only a few months since he’d been in town last, and the next moment he had Dean in his arms. Heart racing, Cas returned the embrace hesitantly, afraid that he’d scare the man away if he moved as fast as he wanted. And when Dean tucked his face into the crook of his neck? The butterflies in his stomach exploded into a wash of heat that he felt to his toes. Cas had let the hug go on for way too long, and if the awkward cough that Sam gave them was enough to go by, Sam knew it too. At the sound, Dean had pulled away as if electrocuted, but Cas could still feel the pressure of the man’s body against his skin even after he’d let go.

It took a few moments until he was able to gather the nerve to look at Dean again, and when he did, he was met with the sight of Dean with a pink flush on his cheeks rapidly spreading down his neck. Dean’s reaction both confused and excited him, but since Dean was staring everywhere but at Cas and Sam was talking up a storm about how excited he was to be back in town, he couldn’t dwell on it.

The visit had been short since Sam wanted to take Dean to some of his favorite places around town, but it was still one of the most confusing interactions of his life. Dean refused to look at him after the hug, finding a sudden and very strong interest in his hardwood floors. Even when they went into his kitchen and he made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Dean was silent. Sam supplied all the conversation, happy to catch up with Cas.

Even more confusing was the wink Sam shot him as they left.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

He got a call from Sam the next morning just after his first cup of coffee.

“Hey, want to join us for breakfast? I just put something in the oven.”

He hesitated, because while most of Sam’s food was edible, not all of it was. The bran muffins he had made last year immediately came to mind. “What did you make?”

“Something called a quiche. It will be out of the oven in thirty minutes.”

Sam was usually pretty good at making egg dishes, and it would be another opportunity to see Dean, so he found himself agreeing.

It was only five minutes later that he was dressed for the day and in Sam’s kitchen. This early, it was just the two of them. He’d figured out really early on that Dean was not a morning person, but in all honesty, neither was Cas. If work didn’t require him to clock in at nine, he’d stay up late and sleep in until noon.

“I’m glad you’re here so soon. I didn’t think I’d see you again for another few months.”

“Well, when that one—” Sam gestured to the upstairs bedroom, “disappeared, all the staff went on a manhunt to find him. Charlie, that’s our… uh… our personal assistant, finally let me know he came here so I was able to talk to dad and convince him it’s a good idea for Dean to spend some time here. I was sent to keep an eye on him.”

Cas frowned, needing to defend Dean. “Does he need someone to keep an eye on him? Surely, he doesn’t need a babysitter.”

Sam shrugged. “You tell me. Has Dean been acting weird?”

The correct answer was a resounding ‘Yes!’ but if he took into account what Sam and John would consider normal, then… “No. He’s been great.”

“He wasn’t rude or anything, was he?”

“I didn’t find him rude.” Prickly was the word he’d used when Dean first came into town. Missouri had told him to give Dean time to settle, and she had been right. “He’s been a very good neighbor.”

Cas hadn’t even realized Sam’s shoulders were tense until sighed in relief. “Good. He’s never been away from home. I was worried about him.”

“I did notice he had the same issues with technology that you did,” he mentioned delicately. Maybe if he pushed, Sam would let slip a few details about their life. “Why is that?”

He shrugged, but his eyes told the truth of his mild discomfort. “We live in a more traditional area. There’s not much technology there.”

“What about music? Dean mentioned that he never listened to the radio before.”

“Uh…”

“And why—”

Sam cut him off, a blush on his face as he rubbed at the talisman that hung around his neck. The same one that Dean had. “So, what have you been up to since I left? Bart still giving you trouble?”

Cas was barely listening. Suddenly, the dots were beginning to connect. The lack of experience with technology. The matching 'talismans' they all wore. The vague details about where they got their fortune. The strange houseguests they kept. The same odd behaviors between the three of them. How every food, as common as it was, seemed to amaze them. The music, the formality, everything. “Sam… are you and your family…”

Sam hot up to check the timer. “What?”

“When you say you live in a more traditional area…”

Sam bit his lip, suddenly looking worried. “I hope you like spinach, the quiche is—”

“Hold on. You guys don’t use technology…you eat very simple meals…you—”

Sam froze up, staring at him wide-eyed. “Cas…”

“Are you in a cult?”

Sam’s deer in the headlight’s expression turned into confusion. “A cult?”

“Is your father a cult leader?” That, at least, would explain things. The ‘traditional’ lifestyle without any modern amenities, the bland foods, the general lack of experience in the real world, and even the money. Maybe John was another Warren Jeffs, and if that was the case, he’d have to figure out a way to help them out.

“I think I’m going to have to look that one up.”

He didn’t think someone in a cult would see it for what it was, so he was probably going about all of this the wrong way. “Have you heard of the BITE model?”

Sam just shook his head.

Cas continued to stare, looking him up and down until he could see Sam visibly getting uncomfortable. He’d get back to that later then, but he had a lot to think about. When Cas gave an apologetic smile, Sam seemed more than ready to change the subject.

“So, Dean’s really been doing well?”

“Yes. He got used to everything pretty quickly. He even made me breakfast a few days ago.” Sure the scrambled eggs had been a little watery, but the bacon had been cooked perfectly.

Today seemed to be a day for revelations, because Sam’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “He cooked for you?”

Cas nodded.

“You made him cookies, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Dean appreciates your friendship, that’s all.” But judging by his face, that wasn’t all.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. Anyway, about that hug last night…”

He could feel his face turning red. “Yes?”

“Did you like it?”

Again, he stared at Sam until he seemed to shrink. Cas wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what the man was doing. “Are you trying to set us up?”

“What? No… I—” he took a deep breath. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“Dean doesn’t see me like that, Sam. Nice try though.”

“I don’t know about that, Cas.”

“How is that quiche coming?”

“It’s fine. Answer my question.”

“I don’t want anyone to interfere in my love life. Forcing someone to ‘like’ me isn’t going to help.”

“I wouldn’t need to force him. More like a gentle push to move faster than a damn iceberg.”

“What are you getting at, Sam?”

“I just think you two would make a good couple.”

He groaned. “Sam… you’re worse than Missouri.”

“She agrees with me, then?”

“No comment.”

“I think he likes you, but he’s just a stubborn ass because he thinks he can’t have what he wants.”

“Sam…”

“Dean’s not good with words, so you just have to pay attention to the way he acts, alright?”

“He doesn’t act like anything but a friend around me, alright?”

“Just watch, ok?”

He opened his mouth to press a little deeper, but the timer on the stove went off and Sam turned from him in a hurry.

Any idea of further conversation fled from his head when only a few minutes later Dean walked down the stairs, bleary-eyed and led more by his grumbling stomach than by consciousness. He was wearing loose-fitting pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. Dean was rumpled and there was still a wrinkle on his cheek from the pillow, and the image made his chest warm with affection.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiled at him when their eyes met and Dean faltered. “Sam invited me to join you for breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean turned to his brother and glared. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“What? Cas is our friend, right?”

Cas cleared his throat, interrupting before they started an argument. “The quiche smells wonderful.”

Sam beamed at him and brought it to the table along with a few plates and forks. “Thanks. Spinach and feta. Now don’t just stand there. Sit.”

Dean let out a long groan and shuffled into the seat next to Cas. “No bacon? Ham?”

“It doesn’t need meat. It has cheese.”

Dean pointed his fork at his brother. “Does feta really count as cheese, though?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“If it’s not melty, it isn’t cheese.”

His brother groaned. “How would you know what feta is like? You’ve never had their cheeses before.”

“Cas helped me get groceries and we bought a bunch of cheese. Tell him, Cas.”

“It’s true,” he agreed. For some reason he was a little put off about the way Sam had said ‘their’ cheese. Kansas had the same cheeses in their grocery stores than all the other states. “He bought six different kinds. Feta was one of them.”

Dean smiled widely at him, grateful for the backup, and Cas was suddenly hit with the crushing need to touch the man. He tried to shake it off, but as Sam served them generous slices of the quiche, the urge only grew. He blamed it on the hug. He’d never dreamed of touching Dean in such a familiar way, and now it was all he could think about. This building need to touch was a new experience for him. He had never been one for too much physical contact, especially with those who he didn’t know too well. But Dean was different. Since the first time they met, he felt the need to be closer to him, but there had always seemed to be a barrier. Now, with Dean’s hug hanging between them, it felt like reaching out was a possibility.

Cas hesitantly reached out to touch Dean’s arm. The contact made Dean freeze, and over the beating of his own heart, he could barely hear himself asking Dean to pass the salt. The moment hung in the air, and slowly, Dean grabbed the salt shaker and handed it to Cas.

Sam, as if knowing something was happening, ate in silence, keeping his eyes firmly set on Cas as if to tell him ‘I told you so!’

But it wasn’t telling him anything. Dean was always a little groggy and slow to act in the morning. He pressed his lips into a disappointed line and glared at Sam, worried that his odd behavior would ruin their morning, but Dean wasn’t even paying attention.  The man was more interested in pushing bits of egg around his plate than paying attention to what the two of them were doing. The embarrassed, almost pouty look on Dean’s face was just a coincidence. Nothing more. Sam was just putting thoughts into his head.

Something bumped his knee, and his fork froze midway to his mouth. Another bump, and suddenly a knee rested against his own, firm enough that Cas knew it wasn’t an accident. It was a conscious gesture on Dean’s part. Now it was his turn to take up a sudden interest in the texture of his food.

The idea that Dean thought of him as more than a friend was foreign to him, but then he thought about Missouri all those months ago when she had claimed she didn’t need to matchmake them. That they didn’t need any help…. He had pushed it to the back of his mind and hadn’t thought of it since, because there was no way that Dean would relax enough around him to even consider Cas as a romantic partner. But now, he was definitely thinking about it. It was all he could think about.

Dean’s suddenly shy behavior last night after the hug, and that same odd behavior right now could be a coincidence. But he was getting a strong gut feeling that it wasn’t. How many more coincidences could he ignore, when Dean’s own brother was telling him otherwise? When Missouri, who never got it wrong, was telling him otherwise?

Maybe it was finally time to believe.

He didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that Dean liked him back. He tried to remember the last time he liked someone and that person liked him in return. High school, maybe. Since then, he seemed to have bad luck with everything being one-sided. The stars never seemed to align in his love life. He had started to think that he would be single for the long haul. An old bachelor with too many cats. Which, to be honest, didn’t sound bad at all.

But now?

Cas put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, angling towards Dean. Their arms were touching now, shoulder to elbow in a way that prevented them both from being able to eat. Sam watched Dean studiously examining his plate, and when Sam finally looked his way, Cas glanced at the hall and raised an eyebrow.

Sam got the message immediately and stood, the scraping of his chair startling Dean into finally looking up.

“Hey,” Sam interrupted, “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I might be a while.”

He would have laughed, if he wasn’t already so nervous. “Take your time.”

Dean just grunted and watched him go. It was only once Sam’s footsteps could no longer be heard that Dean finally looked at him. All the tension immediately broke when Dean smiled at him. The skin contact combined with his dazzling smile made him light in the head. 

“Thank you for letting me join you for breakfast.”

“Yeah, well…” he shrugged. “Sam did all the work.”

“Still…” he reached out again, this time grabbing Dean’s wrist. He fought the itch to go just a few inches lower and grab Dean’s hand. “You know I always appreciate our talks, our time together.”

Dean gulped. “G-good.”

Cas leaned even closer, testing Dean’s reactions.

“Personal space, Cas,” Dean whispered.

“Sorry.” He answered back, not sorry at all.

The air between them was charged. In a quick, nervous gesture, Dean licked his lips. That only made Cas want to kiss him more.

“Have you had coffee yet? I’ll make you a cup.” He got up so quickly that it took Cas a moment to catch up. Cas followed immediately, ready to lend a hand because Dean still hadn’t gotten the hang of using the coffee maker and he didn’t want to have to politely choke down a cup of coffee, but Dean aborted his path mid step and came to a sudden halt. Cas, following so closely, couldn’t stop himself in time and ran into his back.

Without thinking, he grabbed Dean’s biceps to keep them steady. He loosened his grip, giving Dean enough slack to move when he wanted, but he only had a few moments to savor the feeling of Dean’s body flush against his own before the man turned in his arms and suddenly they were face to face, noses just inches apart.

He couldn’t stop himself from looking at Dean’s lips. Such a perfect blush pink pout, perfect cupid’s bow, perfect everything. On their own, his hands trailed up Dean’s arms, coming to rest firmly on the man’s shoulders. Tearing his gaze away, he locked eyes with Dean. The air between them was electrifying, and as one, they leaned closer.

It would have been the perfect first kiss, if a redheaded woman hadn’t come spilling out of the coat closet and landed on her ass just a few feet away from them.

Chapter Text

Charlie stared at them, wide-eyed from her prone position on the floor.

Dean knew what they must have looked like. Bodies pressed flush, temples almost touching as they both looked at her in shock. Both probably as red as tomatoes. They had obviously been gearing up for what Dean hoped would be an amazing kiss.

“Ow,” she groaned, rubbing at her hip before offering them a bright smile. “Uh, hi!”

Dean cleared his throat and stepped back from Cas, their moment ruined. Which, if he was being completely honest with himself, was probably a good thing. Whatever had been building between them couldn’t go anywhere. Cas wouldn’t want someone like Dean, and he sure wouldn’t want to uproot his life and move to Dean’s kingdom to become King Consort. Cas was thriving and successful and loved his life in Kansas. He didn’t want to convince Cas to leave with him just for him to end up as miserable as Dean.

He finally went to help Charlie up and pulled her into a hug. “What the hell are you doing here, Charlie?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘What am I doing here’? You were supposed to be back already!”

“Yeah, about that…” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“With you gone I haven’t had anything to do! Now that you’ll be here a little longer, I figured I’d join you.”

“I thought you’d spend some time with Gilda.”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Well, after a few days I took a trip to her cottage and, well…long story short, we broke up.”

So that was why she was here.

“Oh, that sucks. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well. You know how the fae are…”

“Dean…” Cas’s voice was strained, and when he turned to look at Cas, he was staring at Charlie in wide-eyed confusion. “How long has she been in the closet?”

He wanted to laugh at the shock in Cas’s voice. Of course, he didn’t know that the ferry dropped them off directly at the house, and coincidentally, into the coat closet. He probably thought she’s been in there for at least an hour, maybe even longer. “Well, uh…”

Charlie glanced behind her, only just noticing that she had tumbled out of a closet. “I uh, fell asleep there last night. I just woke up.”

Cas’s eyes narrowed in Dean’s direction. “You made your friend sleep in the closet?”

Dean gaped at him.

“No!” She rushed forward. “I wanted to sleep in the closet. I love sleeping in closets! Closets are… comforting? Like a womb!”

The commotion drew Sam back into the room, and suddenly it was a fucking party. Too many voices trying to explain why in the world Charlie would have been in the closet. Cas looked at all of them—one by one—in confusion, and when his eyes landed on Dean, a little bit of betrayal.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

“He’s avoiding me,” Dean groaned into his plate of pancakes. He was hunched over, tired from lack of sleep, waiting patiently for his coffee to finish brewing so he could at least pretend to be awake.

“He’s avoiding Sam too,” Charlie added. “Should I go talk to him?”

The coffee maker finally beeped and he got up to grab his favorite mug, giving himself time to think. The first sip was horrible, and all it did was make him miss Cas even more. Cas always made an amazing cup of coffee, and he loved to watch the man bustling around the kitchen and making himself at home. He put sugar and cream in his mug and went back to join Charlie at the table. “No. We should just leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yeah. Leave. Get the hell out of here. Why not just cut this whole trip short? I’ll just do the whole contest thing and finally get married. Cas will never have to see me again.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to run away and skip out on making things right.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing. You should go and talk to him.”

“Oh sure. I’ll just go over and just—” he took his talisman off, feeling the strange tingle traveling over his body as his true appearance was revealed, and threw the necklace across the kitchen. It clattered somewhere near the dishwasher. “—do this. ‘Hi, Cas. I’m an elf. See my ears? Want to marry me? I promise the palace won’t be an overbearing shadow that haunts your dreams and makes you want to pull your hair out. Just leave your entire life behind so we can be miserable together. Oh yeah, and sorry my friend was in the closet. I promise it's not as weird as it looks. She just has bad timing.’ Yeah, I’m sure that will go over great.”

She was looking at him with pity in her eyes. “I should go get Sam.”

“Don’t.”

“Maybe we should—”

“Just drop it, Charlie.”

“Fine. Fine.” She stared at her empty plate, the only sound in the kitchen was Dean’s fork scraping on the plate as he cut up his food. “So, uh… that’s really how you feel about being king?”

He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Well… when else?”

“Never?”

She snorted. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Yeah, well… When was I supposed to bring it up? Dad already thinks I’m going to drive the kingdom into the ground—”

“No, he doesn’t!”

He cocked his eyebrow at her. “You’ve never sat in on some of our meetings. It’s just an hour of my dad criticizing me and making me feel guilty for not being married yet. In fact, I’m surprised he agreed to the contest. I was pretty sure he was just going to pick one of his advisor’s daughters to marry me so they can all use me like a fucking puppet. That way I don’t fuck things up too bad.”

She didn’t have a reply to that.

“I just want to, I don’t know…” He looked at her, his eyes full of pleading. “Sometimes I think about what life would have been like if I hadn’t been born with a title. How much easier would things be? In some ways, it would have been better to be born a blacksmith. Shit, maybe I should just pack a bag and hop on a bus. The human realm is crowded. Maybe they won’t be able to find me and I can just live my life. Just another boring human.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Both of their heads whipped to the doorway where Sam was standing, bitchface out in full force. Dean groaned into his hands. “Shit. How much did you hear?”

He moved to join them at the table. “Enough.”

“Forget it, ok? None of this matters, anyway.” Dean stood up and went to dump his coffee in the sink. “Let's just head out tonight. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

“You need to talk to Dad.”

“I’m not going to talk to him. It’ll just make Mom cry. Again.” He couldn’t deal with her disappointment any longer. All she wanted was to see him married and then she could leave in peace. He couldn’t even give her that.

Sam stood to join him. “What about Cas?”

“What about him?” he grumbled.

“I thought you two were hitting it off. You should talk to him.”

“Not you too!” He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “Whatever you’re going to say about him and me, don’t. He’s not talking to me right now, anyway.”

“It’s been a day.”

Dean threw his hands up, flustered. “Yeah, and I don’t see him here. Do you? He always comes over for breakfast. And coffee. And sometimes he’ll bring cookies. And–” he clamped his mouth shut.

“But if you’d just talk to him—”

“Why are you pushing me on this?”

He flushed in embarrassment. “I’m not pushing.”

“Come on guys, it's bad enough he lives next door—” Dean froze, suspicion overwhelming his brain. He turned to Charlie and stared at her long and hard. “Charlie....”

Sam tried to butt in. “Listen, things arent–”

He held his finger up, quieting his brother. “Shut up for a second.”

There were too many coincidences and suddenly, things were starting to click. Charlie began to look nervous at the intensity of his stare. “How did Cas’s name end up on that list?”

“What list?”

“The one that brought him to our realm for the competition.”

She shrugged. “I don’t make the list.”

“Then who does?”

Her lips clamped shut, but her eyes flickered towards Sam.

He turned to his brother, and like a deer in headlights, Sam froze to the spot. “Are you kidding me? Was this all some kind of a plan to marry me off to someone you approved of?”

“No! I didn't write the list, I just approved it!” Sam’s eyes told Dean there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Did you put his name on the list?”

He looked away. “Ok, yes. But it was only because the human candidate was Richard Roman, and when I researched I could see that he was an asshole. Cas was the only human I knew, so I just swapped their names. I just wanted Cas to have a chance since I knew you two would hit it off. I didn’t think he’d leave. I definitely didn’t think you’d come down here.”

None of that made him feel any better. “Was Dad in on this?”

“No. It was just me.”

He turned to his friend. “Charlie, did you know about this?”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

The doorbell rang and Sam stood to get the door, but Dean jumped to his feet and cut him off before he could reach the living room. “Don’t you dare leave right now.”

“But, the door—”

“Fuck the door. If this Richard guy was a dick and he somehow won, I’d just refuse to marry him! I have that option. You can’t just intervene in my life, Sam!”

“But I really didn’t, if you think about it!” he yelled desperately. The doorbell rang again, and Dean put his hands out, blocking the way even further so Sam wouldn’t get any ideas. “Sure, I put him on the list, but you didn’t even meet him until you came down here, which you chose to do by yourself! No one forced you to come to this realm. And you were already in love with Cas long before I even got here.” Another obnoxiously loud ring from the doorbell, this time accompanied by a knock. “You fell for him all on your own. And I have to ask, would you have refused to marry Richard?”

“I’m not in love or anything. Calm down.” He hated that Sam had a point. “And yes, I would have refused, even if it meant going through another contest. Even if it meant disappointing mom. Its my life!” He took a breath, ready to argue some more, but he was interrupted by another ring followed by a knock. “Fuck, who the hell is—” he turned and marched to the door, ready to open it and yell at whoever was on the other side. Charlie made a noise of protest, but he ignored her and yanked the door open. “What?!”

Cas and Missouri stood on the porch bickering, but at his demanding yell, they both quieted and turned to him. Their eyes widened as they took him in. He glared back, but that wasn’t enough to deter their stares.

“Well…” Missouri shook her head at him. “Cats out of the bag now, isn’t it?”

Light footsteps hurried to the door, and Charlie nearly yanked his arm out of its socket trying to get him out of the doorway. “Uh, nothing to see here! Just, uh… some makeup practice!”

‘Makeup practice’ floated in Dean’s mind for a moment before he realized what she was saying. His hand flew to his neck and met nothing but skin. The talisman around his neck was gone.

Chapter Text

“You two need to act like grown-ups and work it out.”

Cas folded his arms across his chest and watched her ring the doorbell. He bristled at the fact that she was scolding him like a child, but there was no use stopping her once she started. When Missouri was determined, she was like a charging bull. “I’m telling you, something is going on here. They were keeping that woman in the closet.”

“And she told you they weren’t keeping her in the closet.”

“But Missouri—”

“I’ll talk to her and find out what happened. You’ll see that it was all a misunderstanding.” She rang the doorbell again, a frown on her face. “What is taking those boys so long?”

“Maybe they’re putting her back into the closet before they answer.”

That, at least, earned him a huff of amusement before she leaned forward and pressed her ear to the door. “Well, they’re home.”

“Then they don’t want company. Let’s head back.”

“Who knows how long they'll be here this time? No, we need to do this now. You’re supposed to be here, Castiel. I can feel it.”

Great, another one of her feelings. As if the last one worked out so well. “Well, excuse me if I don’t—”

“Rethink those next words, sweetheart…”

He sighed but chose to keep quiet. From anyone else, this constant pushing and meddling would earn them a ‘fuck off’ but he knew in his heart that she had good intentions, and if he went a little deeper, he knew she was right. He had feelings for Dean, strong ones. He wanted to go back to the previous day, right before they almost kissed. When things were simple. Now, he didn’t know what to think. There must be an explanation for what happened. There had to be. There was no way Dean was just locking people in closets. He wasn’t that kind of person.

“Fine, but don’t you think I should do this alone? If he opens the door—”

The door swung open and Dean glared at the two of them. Except it wasn’t Dean, not really. The man standing in front of them had all of Dean’s features, but they were different somehow. While Dean had always had clear skin, now it was glowing. It was like his whole body was illuminated from within. Like an angel on earth, and all he was missing was his wings. His cheekbones were higher, sharper. And were his ears pointed? No, they couldn’t be…

“Well…” Missouri was shaking her head. “Cats out of the bag now, isn’t it?”

Cas took a step forward, peering closer at Dean. He was right. Dean’s ears were pointed. Like a faerie’s would be. His heart caught in his throat when he remembered that some versions of vampires also had pointed ears. God, was he really entertaining the fact that Dean might be supernatural? He was pretty sure he would have noticed long ago if Dean was somehow a vampire or something equally nefarious. That left, what?

Charlie, the woman from the previous night, sprinted to the doorway, nearly barreling Dean over in an attempt to move him aside. “Uh, nothing to see here! Just, uh… some makeup practice!”

“Makeup practice?” Missouri parroted.

The excuse fell flat because even if the ears and his altered features were prosthetics, the otherworldly glow couldn’t be faked. Which begged one question: what the hell was he?

Sam stepped in. “Now, everyone calm down.”

Which was funny, because, besides Charlie’s obvious panic, everyone was surprisingly calm. Missouri just looked exasperated by the situation, while Cas himself was more confused than anything else. He was still trying to figure out exactly what Dean was, and alongside that, why he wasn’t bothered by Dean’s obvious otherness.

He tried to think back on any clues he might have missed, but he was struggling to find anything. It only took him a second to realize he couldn’t think of anything because he was thinking too big. There wasn’t a strange and obvious event that happened that would have put a flashing neon sign over Dean’s head because he had already become desensitized to Dean’s odd behaviors. Like how he didn’t know any music. Like how he couldn’t work any of the household appliances. Like how he didn’t understand the internet, something that was so standard in nearly everyone’s lives. Dean’s whole family was that way.

Yesterday, he thought the entire family was part of a cult. Now, he knew better. Somehow, this truth set him more at ease. It was less dangerous for everyone involved. Possibly. He wouldn’t have to worry about them all drinking the Kool-Aid, at least. But he still didn’t know what they were, and that raised so many questions. How many people in his life were also something other than fully human? His sister Anna was probably a witch, then. And if his sister was a witch, then—

Cas turned his gaze on Missouri. His wonderful neighbor who always had ‘feelings’ about what would happen. Who had an herb garden that would make a botanist cry? Who used that garden to make salves and creams that could cure nearly any ailment? Whose tea could stop a headache in its tracks?

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m a witch, sweetheart. Now, close that mouth of yours before you catch a fly.”

He stared at her in shock, his mind struggling to catch up to her casual confirmation of what she was. Now he was panicking. Dean being supernatural was one thing, but Missouri? Who welcomed him to the neighborhood with a smile and plate of cookies? Who he talked to nearly every day? Who—

“Come inside, please,” Sam begged, eyeing the neighborhood nervously.

But he couldn’t, he was still staring at Missouri. “The cookies have some kind of potion in them, don’t they? That’s why they’re so addictive!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It's cornstarch, honey. It keeps the middle soft and chewy and the edges crisp.” And with that, she walked into the Winchester house like she owned the place.

He followed her, shuffling in beside the youngest Winchester, and ignored the way that all eyes seemed to be on him. Everyone probably wanted to know what he was thinking, but Cas hardly knew that himself. They sat down at the kitchen table and regarded each other silently for a few moments.

“So,” he looked at Dean, and then at Sam and Charlie. “What are you?”

None of them seemed like they wanted to answer.

“Vampires? Werewolves?”

Sam snorted, and Charlie pulled a face.

“Fairies? Boogeymen?” he slid a glance at Charlie. “Boogey-people?”

Still no response.

“Tall leprechauns? I can go all day…”

“Elves, ok?” Dean finally blurted. “We’re elves.”

He huffed. “Oh. That makes sense. I should have known.”

This time, it was Dean’s turn to snort.

Sam cleared his throat. “You’re taking this well.”

“Am I?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m taking anything in at the moment. I’m half convinced this is all a dream.”

“Not a dream,” Missouri assured him. “These boys are elves, alright. They’ve been doing a horrible job of hiding it, too.”

“I don’t know about that. They fooled me.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “They had the upper hand. Until a few minutes ago, you had no idea anything other than humans existed. I knew the moment I saw them.”

“I had my suspicions…” he defended. “I entertained the thought that you and Anna were possibly witches. And I was right.”

Missouri reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, you did, baby. Good job.”

Her over-patronizing compliment was enough to break the tension, and he let out a laugh, immediately relaxing his stiff back into the wooden chair. “So… elves.”

“Yes, elves.” Sam gestured to the three of them. “All of us.”

“Do you all look like that?” He gestured at Dean, with his glowing skin and enhanced features.

The three of them looked at each other, and as one, Sam and Charlie removed their talismans. Just like with Dean, their attractiveness was amplified when their true appearance was revealed. And now, looking at them all sitting side by side, he was starting to feel like the odd man out. The only normal person in a room full of the extraordinary.

It was Sam who finally broke the silence. “We’re not dangerous, or anything.”

The idea that any of them might be dangerous was laughable. Sam wouldn’t kill a fly, and although Dean liked to act tough, he had a heart of gold. Charlie was a mystery, but Sam and Dean were good judges of character, so it was safe to assume she would be just as wonderful.

And speaking of Charlie… “Why was Charlie in the closet?”

The abrupt shift seemed to take all of them by surprise. Finally, Dean met Cas’s eyes. “It’s where the portal dumps us when we travel to this realm.”

“Into the coat closet…”

“We weren’t keeping Charlie in the closet.” The corners of his lips twitched up in a smile. “Charlie hasn’t been in the closet since she was one hundred years old.”

Cas snorted before he could stop himself, and the two of them dissolved into laughter as Charlie and Sam frowned at them in confusion. This was the strangest experience of his life, and if his laugh turned slightly manic, no one commented on it. Missouri took this as her chance to stand and excuse herself. “You seem to have all of this under control. I’ll see each of you in the morning, alright?” She paused and turned back to Cas. “Hear them out, ok? This will all work itself out. You’ll see.”

He watched her leave, trying not to get his hopes up. “So, Charlie is around one hundred years old?”

She scoffed. “Try closer to three.”

“Are you…” he floundered for words, but Charlie seemed to take pity on him.

“I’m still pretty young. Sam and I are about the same age, give or take a few decades. Dean is the oldest of us.”

Cas looked at him, and Dean shrugged, face red in embarrassment, “Let's just say I’m older than four hundred and leave it at that.”

“Wow.”

“Hence the quarter-life crisis,” Charlie joked, winking at Dean.

“So, is the elven kingdom anything like Kansas?”

The two men looked at each other, having a whole conversation with just one look. There was something there that they didn’t want to tell him, Cas could see it immediately. Some ghastly secret, surely. Charlie, on the other hand, wasn’t paying them any attention and shook her head. “Well, Sam and Dean are princes, so—”

“Wait...” he cut her off. “Princes?”

Charlie nodded, pointing to Dean. “You’re looking at the crown prince and future king.”

“Charlie…” Dean growled his face red as a tomato.

“Crown prince.” He felt like a broken record.

Charlie nodded and gestured to Dean. “He’s the crown prince, first in line and hopefully very soon to be king. We just have to get him married first.”

Dean elbowed Charlie. “Shut up, Charles.”

His brain was struggling to take in all the information. This was too much. He needed to step away for a moment and just think without three people staring him down and looking for meaning in his body language and expressions. Cas stood up and walked to the cabinets so he could pour himself a glass of water with shaking hands.

He heard a chair scrape against the hardwood and expected Sam to appear at his side at any moment, only to be surprised when he saw Dean slide into his personal space. The man said nothing, only reached for a glass of his own, and waited patiently for Cas to finish with the water pitcher before filling his own glass.

He drank a few sips, tuning out whatever conversation Charlie and Sam were having, before clearing his throat. “This isn’t some strange, lucid dream?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re really a prince?”

“Unfortunately.”

“This is a lot to take in.”

He saw Dean nod in understanding out of the corner of his eye.

“I have a question, though. And I hope you’ll answer with the truth because I feel like there have been a lot of things you haven’t been honest about.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas…” Dean reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand gently on Cas’s shoulder. “I swear I will. Whatever you want to know.”

“Was what we had…” He couldn’t even get the words out.

“Ask it, Cas.”

“Was what we had real? Was I just imagining our connection?”

“No.” His hand tightened on Cas’s shoulder and trailed down his arm until he was taking Cas’s hand. The chairs scraped on the hardwood floors as Sam and Charlie made their swift retreat. It was finally silent in the kitchen; the only sound was that of the ticking clock that hung above the doorway. “It was real.”

Cas huffed. “Charlie made it seem like you’re getting married soon. Were you just biding your time here until that happened?”

“Actually, I’m trying not to get married…” His eyes were wide and pleading when they finally met Cas’s. “This is all going to sound crazy, but promise me you’ll listen. My parents are ready to cross into the undying lands. They want me to get married before they go, so I finally agreed to do a stupid competition to pick a fiancé, and then you showed up.”

“I showed up?” he repeated weakly.

“Yeah, and then the whole thing fell apart because a very handsome human criticized the competition, me, and the political policies I didn’t even know we needed, then stormed out of there like the whole place was on fire. No one had ever talked to me the way you did, so I had to come here and find you.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t need to say anything. It was true. I don’t know what climate change is, but a woman’s right to choose? Indigenous issues? Things aren’t the same where I’m from, but we still have violence being committed toward other races over resources and our society is heavily patriarchal. You were right, and as the prince, you shouldn’t—” he cut himself off. “I should have already known about those things.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“I know.” He shook his head, laughing at the situation. “And it pissed me off how nice you were being to me because the first time we met you said you’d rather be disqualified than marry me. Everyone was falling over themselves to meet me, and you just walked the other way. It was a big ego hit, let me tell you…”

“Is that why you were so prickly towards me?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry about that. I thought I’d want to punch you as soon as I saw you, but I... ”

“So, what now?”

Dean let out a long sigh and walked back to the empty table. Cas followed, and once they both sat, Dean hesitantly reached out and grasped Cas’s hand again.  He let Dean hold on to him, the slow stroke of his thumb dulling the rejection that was sure to come. There was no way around it. Dean didn’t live here, he lived in another realm. “I have to go back and hold another contest.”

“I see.”

“I don’t want to, but…”

“But you have to.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

Dean looked at Cas in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘why?’ I have to get married so I can take over the throne.”

“That’s dumb.”

He gaped at Cas. “No, it’s not! It’s… tradition.”

“Your parents are the king and queen, right? Simply have them make you king, then.”

“But they need to see me married before they pass!”

His stomach clenched. “Are your parents dying?”

“No! You go into the undying lands willingly.”

He let out a breath. “Then let them wait. Become a king and get married later.”

“You can’t just—I won’t be able to—” he shook his head, lost for words. “There’s never been an unmarried king, Cas.”

“Then don’t become king!” he snapped, tired of the back and forth that just made the pit in his stomach wider. “Let someone else do it.”

“But I’m the crown prince. I have to do it, Cas!”

Fuck. This conversation was going nowhere fast. Cas stood up, steeling his nerve. “Then this is goodbye, Dean. I enjoyed our time together, but I can see this isn’t going to work.”

He forced himself to turn and leave the kitchen without looking back at Dean because he knew if he did, he’d instantly regret his decision and change his mind.  Cas got halfway to the door before he noticed Sam and Charlie hovering awkwardly by the door and clearly eavesdropping. Their eyes were wide, and both looked like they wanted to say something, stop him from leaving the house, but neither of them did. He was glad because if they tried, it would probably work.

Cas turned the handle and pushed the door open, but just as he was about to step foot on the front deck, he could hear Dean’s footsteps rushing toward him.

“Wait! Cas… please.”

Cas froze, his resolve cracking. His shoulders dropped and he stepped back inside, closing the door. He still couldn’t look at him, but he didn’t have it in him to ignore Dean completely. He would wonder for the rest of his life what Dean had wanted to say.

“Don’t leave me. Let me…” he cursed quietly, and suddenly, Cas felt strong arms around his middle. “I don’t know what to do, but I’m not letting you leave again.”

He wanted to lean into the hug, or turn around and pull the man into a kiss, but he forced himself to remain still. “I’ve never left you, Dean.”

“You did,” Dean mumbled into Cas’s back. “Back in my kingdom.”

Cas huffed a small laugh. “I hardly think that counts. I don’t even remember it.”

“Well, it does…” His hands slowly let go, but Cas could still feel the heat of him against his back. “I want to work this out. Please. Let’s try.”

“You’re going to go home and get married. What would that make me? Your mistress?”

He forced Cas to turn around and face him, and there was nothing but determination in his eyes. “No, Cas. You wouldn’t be my mistress. You could, you know… come with me. Maybe you’ll like it there. Maybe we could get married.”

“You’re crazy,” he whispered, but there was no heat behind his words. “We barely know each other.”

“You make it sound as if I’m going to know whoever I do have to marry.”

Cas took a step back, and Dean’s hands fell to his side. “I can’t go with you. I have a job here that I love, and people that I love even more. I couldn’t live that kind of life. If the city was too much for me, how do you think I’d fare as royalty? I could never be a public figure.”

Dean pleaded with his eyes. “You could come back sometimes… visit them.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “No.”

“But—"

“Dean… I’m going to miss you.”

“Don’t say that, Cas.”

He turned to face Sam and Charlie. Their stricken expressions sent a knife through his heart. “It was wonderful to meet you, Charlie, despite the circumstances. And Sam…” his throat choked off his words, so he simply pulled the tall man into a tight hug.

“Cas…” Sam whispered, returning the embrace. “We’re going to figure it out, ok?”

He didn’t believe him one bit. “There’s nothing you can do, Sam. It’s not like you could be king instead…” But he couldn’t stay any longer, not with Dean’s eyes boring holes through his back. He needed to leave now and lick his wounds in the privacy of his own home. He gave his friend one last squeeze, and stepped back. “I’m going to miss you.”

Sam was frozen to his spot, barely even breathing as he stared intensely at the spot just past his shoulder. When Sam just continued to blink at nothing, Cas turned his head only to find that Sam wasn’t staring at nothing… he was staring at an equally shocked Dean.

“No!” Dean finally managed to shout. “Don’t even think about it!”

“But it’s actually a good—”

“No, it’s not! Don’t even say it. Dad would—”

“Fuck what Dad has to say!”

Cas took a step back and Charlie grabbed at his arm, pulling him to her side so they could watch the shouting match safely.

Dean looked taken aback at Sam’s outburst. “Sam…”

“You’re always doing this! You care too much about what Dad thinks.”

“But he’s the king!”

“So? It’s your life! If you don’t want to be king, then don’t! Stay in the human realm. You love it here!”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it here or not! Besides, if I step down, someone else would have to be king.”

“Yes.” Sam pointed to himself. “I would do it.”

Dean stared at him in shock. “Hell no. I can’t do that to you.”

“You can’t do that to me? Why not?! Unlike you, I don’t have anything holding me here.” He turned to Cas and smiled bashfully. “I mean, you’re here, but I’d visit as often as I can.” He turned back to Dean. “I’ll be king.”

“But you’ll have to get married! You’ll be in the same position I’m in. It will feel like I’m forcing you to get married.”

“Well, about that. I’ve been talking to Dad, and…” he rubbed at his face, a blush staining his cheeks. “Do you remember Princess Jessica?”

Dean froze, eyes wide. “Pretty blond?”

Sam nodded. “She’s the reason we were visiting the wood elves. I was going to tell you when I got back, but you were gone. We’re officially in talks for a marriage alliance.”

“What the fuck.”

“So, it's not that big of a deal, ok? I mean, it kind of is, but… you wouldn’t be forcing me to get married.”

“And you’re in love with her?”

Cas didn’t know it was possible, but Sam’s blush deepened. “Don’t make me say it, jerk.”

Dean laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes, bitch.”            

“So, you could just stay here. In this house. You’ll have it mostly to yourself. We only visit a few times a year, and you could always portal back to visit whenever you want.”

Dean was beginning to look like he was considering it. “Holy shit.”

“You’ll still have to come back, though. We’ll need to talk to Dad and make it all official.”

“Hold on…” Dean grasped his brother’s arms. “Do you want to be king?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Not minding it and actually wanting the crown are two different things.”

“I could be happy as a king. Especially with Jessica by my side. She's amazing.”

“But that’s still not—”

From his side, Charlie finally interrupted. “Just shut up and accept it!”

He snapped his mouth shut and turned his attention to the two of them. “Charlie.”

It wasn’t until she sniffed and wiped at her eyes that Cas realized she was crying. “Be selfish, ok?”

Dean reached out to her with both hands and she broke into a sob, rushing into his arms for a hug. “But what about you?”

“Well, I don’t have anything to go back for either. No family, no girlfriend…” She forced out a sad laugh. “I’d stay here with you if that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok.”

The spark of hope bloomed into a bonfire at his words. Dean just all but admitted that he would stay. And just like that, the guilt set in. He stepped forward and cleared his throat, “Dean… don’t do this just for me. We might decide we hate each other and break up. This sounds permanent. You need to be sure that stepping down from the throne is what you want.”

Charlie gave one last sniff and gave Dean a nudge towards Cas. “I already said it, Cas. I would never be happy as a king.”

“And you’d be happy here? Pretending to be a human?”

“I happen to think that humans are pretty awesome.”

Cas laughed. He wanted to grab Dean by the face and kiss him until they were both out of breath, but Sam was already at Dean’s side with a plan in his eyes. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it now. The number of meetings we’ll need to have and contracts we’ll need to sign is going to be crazy. It could take weeks.”

Dean seemed hesitant to leave, so Cas took a step back and gave an encouraging smile. “Go.”

“Well, I’m staying here.” Charlie hooked her arm with Cas’s. “Tell the king I quit!”

“I’ll be back, ok?” He and Sam took a step toward the linen closet. “Keep an eye on Charlie.”

“Don’t worry about me, you asshole,” she snipped back. “Cas and I are going to become best friends while you’re gone.”

Dean’s eyes were on him and he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he took a deep breath and stepped into the closet. Sam followed him with a smile. “I’ll see you later, Cas.”

Sam reached around and closed the door, and just like that, they were gone.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

For the first few days Charlie was there, Cas was over so often he might as well have moved in. He showed her how to cook, clean, work the appliances, and do everything he had taught the Winchesters. He thought it would take her weeks to be self-sufficient, but Charlie managed to settle in a lot quicker than he thought possible. She was a natural with technology, unlike the Winchesters, and within a week and a half she discovered YouTube tutorials and soon matched all his knowledge of what a computer with internet access was capable of, and then some. By the second week, she found internet forums and used free online resources to learn to code. It only took her a few days after that to get in contact with someone who would make her a birth certificate and other paperwork that would let her register for community college classes. At the rate she was going, he wouldn't be surprised if she graduated with honors and found her way to Harvard or some other ivy league college.

It was easy to keep himself distracted when someone needed his help, but when she no longer needed him to show her how to sort the laundry or work a lawn mower, and his work was so easy he could do it blindfolded, he couldn't keep his thoughts away from Dean. How he was doing. How things were going with his father. Was his mother disappointed in him? Was he regretting his decision? Did he change his mind?

There was no way he could know for sure. He couldn’t go to the other realm himself, and asking Charlie was out of the question. He felt pathetic enough as it was, pining after Dean like this, and he didn’t want Charlie to know how worried he was that Dean might decide he didn’t want to return after all. Not to mention that he couldn’t ask her to waltz into the palace looking for Dean after she quit the way she did.

Missouri thought he was being ridiculous, and threatened to replace the sugar for salt in his batch of cookies if he didn’t stop moping. The threat was almost enough to work, but unless Dean himself appeared on his porch, he was sure he couldn’t get past the doubt. Sam had said it might take them a couple of weeks, but I was nearing three weeks and there wasn’t a sign of him.

His phone dinged from the table, startling him out of his melancholy. It was Charlie, again, inviting (demanding) him to come over and eat a frozen quiche with her. He texted her back immediately agreeing to go. It was supposed to be in the mid 90’s by noon, so if Charlie was willing to turn on the oven and heat up her kitchen, he wasn't going to argue. They agreed on a time and he got back to his book. It had been a hobby he’d gotten back into recently in an attempt to distract himself, and it was working moderately well. 

Unfortunately, with the prospect of having breakfast with Charlie in the back of his mind, he couldn't focus on the book anymore and closed t with a snap. Quickly deciding he’d just head over to Charlie's early, he got up and stretched, his back popping at every vertebra. It was just a quick trip downstairs for his keys, and he was slipping on his shoes so he could leave. 

He shot off a text to Charle as he left his home and nearly had a heart attack as he ran into a figure standing on his porch. In front of him stood Dean, dressed in the same outfit he was wearing the day he left nearly three weeks ago, a nervous expression on his face.

“Shit. I thought I had more time. Charlie said you weren't going to come over for another twenty minutes, and I was going to knock, I swear, but I needed time to think.”

At Cas’s silence, or maybe because of it, Dean couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Sorry it took so long, but the whole thing was a clusterfuck. Mom was a mess, and dad was pissed, but you know Sam… I left the kid alone with them for an hour and suddenly it was an amazing idea and all they could talk about was how good it would be for me. And then Sam told mom about you, and well I’m pretty sure we have to get married now. If we don't, she’d come down herself, and trust me, we don’t want that. Sorry.” He barely took a breath before continuing. “I couldn’t exactly bring any of my shit with me, so you’ll have to take me shopping.”

“…”

Dean paused, but Cas was still too shocked to speak. “And I just talked to Charlie and she said she’d be able to whip up some paperwork for me, but I still need to get a license and car…”

“…”

“And you might have to help me do the grocery shopping until I figure it out. I mean, who needs twenty different kinds of bread? Seriously. We have like three, tops. And don’t even get me started on flavored yogurt.”

“Dean.”

“And of course, I’ll live at the house with Charlie. I know you’re not going to want me to live with you yet. Shit. I mean, maybe we could go on some actual dates and get to know each other more, and then sometime in the future we could move in together, and—”

“Dean.”

“—if you want to take it super slow, that’s ok too. We don’t have to rush into anything.”

“Dean.”

He finally seemed to realize Cas was trying to talk to him. “Huh?”

“Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

His whole body seemed to deflate. “Shit. I’d fucking kill for a cup of coffee. You know yours is the best.”

He bushed at the praise. “I don't do anything special.”

“Yes, you do. You sprinkle in love, and whatever else. You always know how to make it perfect.”

Was it possible for him to blush even more? “I just pay attention to how people like their coffee.”

“Yeah, and that's why…” he looked at his feet. “That's why I like you so much.”

Unable to take it any longer, Cas fisted his hand in Dean’s shirt and reeled him in. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Dean smiled in relief and allowed himself to be pulled into a deep kiss.