Ten

Castiel woke up nuzzled into snug furs, his limbs wrapped around Dean's warm body. After peeking over the Winchester's head to look out the window, he realized he'd slept in. Slowly and carefully, he untangled his legs from Dean's and pulled out his hand from underneath his back. He was about to flip his feet over the bed when an arm slithered around his waist.

"Where're you going?" Dean demanded sleepily.

"I have to get up. I've overslept as it is," Castiel murmured in reply.

The bed creaked as Dean sat up, rubbing his face tiredly and groaning. He squinted under the morning glare of the sun. Shuffling around, he manuevered the arm around Cas further up to his chest and hid his face in the back of the other's neck.

"Dean, I have to get up," Castiel reminded.

"What are you doing today, man?" Dean asked, and Castiel was positive he was pouting.

"I have to speak to your father," Cas explained. "I've made up my mind."

He could feel Dean grinning against his skin. "And what's the verdict?"

Castiel hummed a chuckle and looked over his shoulder. "What about you? What have you got planned for today?"

"Well, for starters," Dean said, "I was hoping to get a repeat of last night."

Castiel barely managed to utter a halfhearted refusal before Dean pulled him backwards. Needless to say, Castiel got up a half-hour later than he'd planned.

Stumbling out of bed, he searched for the closest piece of clothing, which turned out to be his shirt.

"Dean, you should get dressed," he suggested to the prince in bed, "I have to find a maid to prepare the bath."

"Why?"

Castiel assumed he had referred to the first part of his sentence. "You can't be naked in front of your servants."

Dean shrugged. "They've found me in worse circumstances."

Sure enough, when the maid waddled in, she barely spared Dean a second glance. "Good morning, your Highness," she called as she disappeared into the bathroom.

"Morning, Missouri," Dean returned.

"What are you still doin' in bed? Half the kingdom's already up," she reprimanded.

Dean grinned at Cas. "I... got distracted."

Missouri replied with a very amused, "Hmpf!" She returned from the bathroom and smiled warmly at Castiel. "All done, your Highness."

Castiel offered a polite, "Thank you."

"Missouri, could you get someone to bring up breakfast?" Dean asked as the maid turned the knob of the door.

"What time should I send it up?" she asked.

After a shared look with Cas, Dean said, "In about half an hour?"

Missouri nodded and left. Castiel pushed away from the wall he'd leaned against, heading for his closet and pulling out some fresh clothes. He heard shuffling from the bed before shutting the bathroom door behind him.

The hot water was a relief to his body, dirty and sore and covered in hickeys. The back of his head pressed against the rim of the bath tub, he sighed in content. A flask of shampoo sat on the ground beside him. He picked it up, poured out a small amount and rubbed it into his hair.

The door creaked open. Castiel assumed that one of the servants brought fresh towels, but was caught by surprise when he felt a push against his shoulders. Instantly, he scooted to the front of the tub, almost going under in the process.

Dean dropped his feet into the water and slipped in behind Cas, sitting the same way he previously had in the bed. He massaged the other's scalp softly, making the shampoo bubble profusely. As he moved to wash his arm with a cloth, Dean mouthed slack kisses against Cas' neck.

"Dean?"

The Winchester hummed to show he was listening.

"Have you ever though of leaving Ventoris?" Castiel asked.

"Like where?" Dean mumbled against his skin.

"To Aether." He added after a pause, "With me."

The warmth of Dean's lips disappeared. "Cas, you know that I would, but I can't. I'm the Heir Apparent. Stayin' here's kinda in the job description," he reminded.

Castiel sighed dejectedly, but nodded, and said nothing more.

After making sure Cas was thoroughly cleaned, Dean rubbed his thigh. "C'mon," he said, "you're done."

Instead of getting out, Castiel twisted around so that he straddled Dean's lap. He took up the shampoo bottle and applied some of the liquid into the Winchester's hair, careful to spread it down to the nape of his neck and behind the ears. He watched Dean's eyes slip closed as he massaged the bubbles into his scalp, and felt a pair of hands grip his waist protectively, thumbs working soothing circles over his hipbones. When he finished, he picked up the cloth Dean had discarded on the side of the tub and scrubbed his chest in gentle strokes.

Neither spoke while Cas cleaned. Dean had dozed off again, and the other was content to simply listen to his soft snores. Once he was done, he pressed a soft kiss on Dean's forehead and murmured a reminder about breakfast.

A silver tray stacked with cheeses, bread and warm milk already sat on the table when they emerged from the bathroom. The two sat down and started to eat.

After glancing out the window, Dean asked, "You think anyone will miss us if we go for another ride today?"

"I'll have to write to Michael after I see your father," Castiel responded, "but afterwards, I see no reason why not. It's a nice enough day."

"There's this open field Sammy and I used to go to as kids. We played in the snow until we were soaked to our bones." Dean laughed. "What do you say? You up for a little rematch?"

"If you're willing to get beaten again, then yes," Cas teased.

"Hey, I beat you!" Dean insisted. "I tackled you to the ground, remember?"

Castiel didn't get to make a retort because a knock sounded from the door. The prince looked over his shoulder while the other raised an eyebrow. Castiel set down his piece of cheese and stood from his chair. When he opened the door, he was greeted by one of the castle's servants.

"This just arrived for you, your Highness," he told him, holding up a small envelope.

"Who brought it?" Castiel asked as he took the piece of paper.

"A rider from the north," the other replied.

Castiel inspected the envelope. In the melted seal was pressed a crest that bore a bird in flight. "What colour was the rider's cape?"

"Blue, sire. There was a crest too, with a white bird, like a dove."

It was a messenger from Aether, one of his own men. The message was from home.

"Thank you," Castiel said before closing the door.

"Who's it from?" Dean wanted to know when Castiel returned into vision.

Castiel picked up a letter opener from the table. "One of my brothers. Michael, I believe, if I remember the handwriting correctly."

Dean watched as Cas' eyes zipped from one end of the paper to the other. It only took him a second to realize the prince was reading it over several times. Castiel's face was an impassive mask, his eyes emotionless and lips a tight line. Dean was about to stand and approach him when he suddenly looked up from the letter.

His features remained expressionless, and Dean's heart stumbled.

"Cas," his voice wavered ever so slightly.

There was a silence, then Castiel finally spoke.

"My father," he whispered. "He's dead."