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Patrol was a distraction that currently lay somewhat on the brink between welcome and abhorred. The city was relatively quiet, big clouds rolling across the sky at a slow pace, offering patches of shadows during the midday sun. Not many people were out on the streets and Dean had very little to do but slowly making his rounds, assuring that the streets were clean and that there had been no new incidents of teenagers daring themselves to draw dicks on walls. The city wasn't necessarily a cesspool of crime, which meant that Dean's day dreams about chasing down criminals never amounted to anything. He was out in the open instead of being stuck in his study all day, but after his experience in border lands this was boring. He had worked his scales off out there to prove himself to be more than just a soft bellied spoilt prince and for what? To come back to town and sit on his tail all day? Dean was in charge of a small team of officers who patrolled the circle around the palace district and the Great Spirit platform. It was as peaceful as it could get. No danger. No stress. Probably just right for a married man who wanted to keep himself out of danger so that he could start the complex task of family planning.
The thought stung. He had exactly gone on patrol so as not to think about it in circles. He should probably stop this train of thought before it was able to grow, but too late. The feeling of shame and worry started to coil behind his belly button and made his tail end flick in agitation. He should have just stuck to his boring patrol duty. He should not have begged to be assigned patrols that took him out of the city because he was the damn best hunter for the job. He should not have taken Cas with him, no matter how much both of them had wanted a change of scenery. Because now Castiel was hurt, a scar on his leg that might never fully heal, his angelic powers subdued and his chance at a family nipped in the bud.
It didn't matter how many times Cas told him that it wasn't his fault. There was no way to sugar-coat it: it had been Dean to sink the blade into Castiel's stomach to drive the Leviathan out, hoping to the gods that he didn't kill him in the process.
He did deserve this. This quiet, undignified loss of purpose, the soft ground under his scales instead of the rough terrain out there were his work mattered, the aimless sliding through the streets hoping to catch someone in the act of not disposing of their trash properly. Considering the trauma he and Cas went through, Bobby might have given him more days off from duty, no doubt, but Dean couldn't keep drifting through the halls of their matrimonial palace like this. Every time he visited Cas, the omega was sitting in his bed, looking more and more displeased by his confinement. Castiel bore the entire situation with a lot more grace than Dean would have done, but his husband was getting short-tempered and impatient too. He wanted to stretch his legs but Gabriel's instructions had been clear; two weeks of bedrest and no day less. And with all this time to do nothing but read and think unhappiness crept onto the face of Dean's husband, every day he looked a bit worse for wear. Castiel never complained to Dean, but Dean's guilt grew as the days passed. But the days did pass and that meant one good thing. Even though there might be longer lasting consequences, it was only one week before Castiel would throw back the heavy blanket and the sun would kiss those legs of his again. This image pierced through Dean's morose thoughts like a ray of hope. Only a week and Dean could finally put his hands on Castiel's soft skin and know the feelings of his legs. His depression momentarily forgotten, Dean let his thoughts drift away from him, to more pleasant realms. They had assured their love for each other now, maybe they'd soon elevate their matrimony into a proper mating. Would Cas allow an exploration of his body? How would it feel to have Castiel's… ass touch Dean's pouch? Would it be warm? Soft? How would his knees bend? Would his toes curl in the throes of ecstasy just like in the novels?
Dean was so lost in thought he almost missed that someone was coming into the main street from the paved path that led to the Great Spirit platform. He instinctively prepared to give them space to move around his slowly moving form, when he noticed how small the figure was.
"Burn my tail feathers," Dean said to himself in disbelief. It was Castiel! Up on his legs (fabric wrapped around them though, for shame) and not in bed like he was supposed to be. Dean advanced on him, the first dash of anger quickly replaced with worry. Why was he on his feet? What if he reopened his wounds and set back his healing process?
"CAS!" Castiel gave a start and almost jumped back in alarm when Dean was on him a second later, bending down far enough to reach for his husband.
"What are you doing out of bed! You're still on bedrest for another week!" Castiel didn't reply, his wide-eyed stare one of shock. At being caught out of bed? Hardly!
"Why are you outside?" Dean repeated the question but Cas still didn't open his mouth to answer. Instead he was trying to move away a bit to put some space between them. At least the look of surprise was gone from his face, though he looked… displeased? Disbelieving? Dean eyed him in confusion. He took a quick moment to take in Castiel's clothes which Dean had never seen before. Of course, Dean wasn't privy to the contents of Castiel's wardrobe, but he had rarely seen his legs entirely covered by this 'pants' garment. And his hair... It wasn't in its usual braids but was actually cut short.
"Your hair…" Dean started and saw Cas reach a hand up to his neck. Was that why he had left the house? He had wanted a haircut? "Why did-"
A faint trace of sulfur reached Dean's nostrils.
Dean drew back instantly, grabbing the knife from its holster at his hip. Castiel gave a start but produced his own short sword. Odd. Didn't Castiel claim that no demon could touch a sword infused by Grace?
"Please, Cas, don't tell me you got possessed again!" Dean hissed. "And how did a demon get into this town in the first place?! We've got warding!"
"I'm not a demon," Castiel said, sounding partially affronted. He lowered the sword but Dean kept his guard up. Castiel heaved an exaggeratedly loud sigh. He returned the sword to its holster and then eyed Dean critically, from a safe distance. "Are you Dean Winchester?" Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Castiel's husband."
"You're speaking in weird tongues, demon."
"I'm not a demon. I'm Jimmy, husband of Amelia Novak." Dean's mind temporarily whited out. He knew that name, in the back of his head somewhere. This 'Jimmy' sighed yet again, clearly less than impressed by Dean. But then it hit Dean:
"You're Castiel's sibling...! The one married to a demon." Jimmy nodded. "Fuck!" Dean quickly put away his weapon and lowered himself further down his tail to be a bit closer to Jimmy's eyelevel. "My deepest apologies for my lacking manners and aggression, Prince Jimmy. I meant no offense." He checked him over, taking in the slightly more relaxed stance. He held himself completely different to Castiel. It was eerie. Dean wasn't quite convinced yet that he wasn't dealing with some sort of spell.
"That's quite alright," Jimmy said, but the guarded tone of his voice told a different story. "Cas wrote to me about what happened. Partially at least." Again, that stab of shame that made Dean want to curl in on himself. But there was no judgment in Jimmy's voice or his expression. "I was actually trying to find him." Dean nodded in understanding and lifted his arm to point into the direction of the palace.
"I'll guide you there. How did you get here?" Dean asked. Jimmy started moving into the indicated direction but jumped slightly when Dean drew back up to a more comfortable height and set into motion too. Castiel had watched him slide with the exact same weirded out expression. Not that Dean didn't also continue to watch the way people with legs moved. It never seemed to stop being weird. So he let Jimmy study him without saying much.
"I flew. Landed on that big free elevated grass space." Dean pulled a face. Typical. He had to tell Cas that the throne of the Great Spirit was not a landing place but a sacred ceremonial ground. But there was no point in telling Jimmy off. Besides, there were others things to worry about.
"You flew in and nobody sounded an alarm…?"
"Are they supposed to? We're not at war. And what other airborne creatures do you expect to attack?" Jimmy retorted and Dean didn't really have a good answer. He had just hoped that the sentries would at least report something. At his last station, nothing had even wiggled a tail feather without Victor and him knowing about it. City soldiers were just too damn comfortable. "Besides," Jimmy continued, "you apparently can't tell Cas and me apart, so they might have assumed me to be him on a flight."
"You look exactly the same!" Dean said in his defense. "I've never seen such family resemblance! It's like a witch pulled you out of a mirror." Dean was slightly uneasy to have embarrassed himself before his brother-in-law. Castiel didn't speak much about his family, but he had mentioned Jimmy with fondness.
"We're twins," Jimmy said as if that was the most logical explanation for the unnatural likeness and looked around. They had arrived at the little square before Dean and Castiel's home. One of the maids was beating a carpet and all the doors to the calling halls were open to invite in the nice breeze.
"Twins…?" Dean asked in confusion and watched Jimmy cross the decorated threshold without issue. He remembered how Castiel had made a small fuss about traditions of an omega first setting foot in a house. He could smell that Jimmy was an omega too, but apparently, this 'being carried over the threshold to ward off bad luck' only counted for the house omega and not guests. Dean pulled the lever to pour fresh water into the bucket by the door. He climbed on the wooden bench to start brushing off his tail. Jimmy observed him sharply, but then also took in the little shelf Castiel had installed to hold his 'outdoors shoes'. While Dean was using the washing bucket, Jimmy got out of his shoes and pulled some of Castiel's off the shelf. People with feet apparently had an instinct to recognize which shoes were for guests, which were for indoors and which were for outdoors. Much too confusing. If Dean had feet he'd brush off the dust, wash them and then go around on his naked soles inside.
"You don't know what twins are?" Dean lifted his head when he heard Jimmy's voice, calling him out of his thoughts about the soft but sturdy underside of feet. "Two children growing inside a mother and being born at the same time?"
"Well no. I've heard of that concept before in fairy tales. Parents blessed by the earth and by the sky at the same time," Dean explained and went into the house. "But it doesn't happen to us Naga." "Peculiar," Jimmy muttered. "That at least explains your confusion." Dean felt his cheeks heat slightly at being reminded of his blunder. "Nothing to be ashamed of." Now Jimmy was grinning at him, a hint of teasing in his voice.
"Ignorance is a bad sign for a king as my father tends to say. Anyway, I'm sure you want to see Cas now. I'll guide you to him and then I'll have the cook prepare you a snack."
"That would be great. I haven't eaten since breakfast," Castiel's twin said, following Dean down the corridor. Breakfast to lunch time. Dean calculated the hours and reached the conclusion that the distance between last food intake and now was big enough to warrant a proper meal by Cas' standard. "Is it true that you only eat once a week?", Jimmy asked.
"Less than that usually. It depends on how much energy you use. When I was still in the army, we had a feast every week. But nobody here must fight and the food is available in abundance. We have bigger but less frequent meals here."
"My wife is similar. She doesn't have to eat as often as I do, but she still snacks with me. Eating arrangements were quite a stumbling block at the beginning of our marriage. Eating alone isn’t particularly entertaining." Dean filed that away for future investigation. Castiel ate so often that it was impossible to join him for every meal, but what if he was feeling lonely while eating? Dean couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. Luckily, Jimmy didn't comment on it. They reached Castiel's door and Jimmy gave it a polite knock but then entered without being invited in.
"JIMMY!" Dean peeked into the room when he heard Castiel's shriek. He had rarely heard him make such a sound, full of excitement and happiness. Dean saw the brothers hug each other but then Jimmy drew back and gave Cas a light slap over the head.
"Why do you go off chasing Leviathan for God's sake! When I read your letter I almost had a heart-attack! I'm surprised that mother hasn't flown down here with half the entourage to watch you like a hawk." Castiel pulled a displeased expression but the two swiftly jumped to a new topic (air condition for flying apparently, but Dean tuned them out rather quickly). Now that his services were no longer needed, Dean silently retreated. He let the cook know that he should prepare something to eat for Cas and their guest and he told the staff he met on his way outside that they shouldn’t freak out when there suddenly were two versions of his husband. Nobody quite wanted to believe him that there were fabled twins under this very roof, but they were very excited nevertheless.
Dean went out into the inner sun yard, his patrol duty currently forgotten. He heaved himself up on one of the wooden benches warmed by the sun and decided that after this surprising excitement he needed a nap.
And if some youngster drew dicks on a wall…? So be it. He'll report it tomorrow.