Dean awoke in his huge bed, his legs tangled up in silk sheets. For a moment he lay still, wishing he could just drift off and wake up again in his own narrow bed. He would look over and Sammy would still be snoring softly and he'd throw his pillow at him. Sammy wouldn't open his eyes, just snap "leave me alone, Dean!" and roll over to face the narrow window that overlooked the alley beside their house.

Outside he would hear the sounds of life – of carriages pulling along the cobbled road, people milling about on the sidewalk and vendors setting out their goods.

Home was filled with the sounds of laughter and arguing. Home smelled of old leather and laundry and his mom's cooking.

Home was nothing like here.

Only silence greeted him here.

He impatiently kicked the sheets loose and slid over to sit at the side of the bed.

He glanced through the French doors that led out to the balcony and could see the dull and overcast sky.

The weather was fitting. No reason the sun should be shining and the birds singing when inside it was cold and dreary.

Dean sighed and looked up at his valet, Mr. Ketch, who he knew had stepped silently into the room and stood at the bottom of his bed. Just like he did every morning.

Mr. Ketch had replaced Chris who'd lasted about three days before Dean had told him that if he wanted to stay, he could go work in the stable.

Chris had eagerly agreed.

Which was a relief to both of them.

Laying out Dean's clothes – fancy new clothes that had been waiting for him on his arrival because apparently royalty dressed up for everything, everyday – helping him dress – not that he needed or wanted that – and basically following him around like a creepy shadow – was not Chris' style.

Plus, Chris talked incessantly.

Mr. Ketch, on the other hand, kept conversation to a minimum.

"Good morning your majesty." He greeted in his crisp, British accent.

"Mornin." Dean mumbled.

"Are you well this morning?" Mr. Ketch asked as he did every morning.

"Yup. How about you?"

"Very well thank you. I've laid out your suit for you. I hope the green jacket and grey flannel slacks are acceptable."

Dean glanced over at the settee where his clothes were neatly lying, ready for him to step into.

"I'm sure they're fine."

"Very good sir. Shall I step out while you perform your morning ablutions and return in…five minutes?"

Dean smirked, remembering the disagreement he'd had with Mr. Ketch on his first morning.

Mr. Ketch had found it odd when Dean had requested some privacy. Dean had found it odd that someone would want to stand and watch as he took his morning piss.

"Can you give me ten?" Dean asked.

"Of course, sir."

With that, Mr. Ketch silently withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him.

Dean took a deep breath and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He hadn't shaved yesterday but he supposed he might as well this morning. Not that it mattered to anyone.

He got up and walked over to the dressing table where a warm basin of water was filled with scented water. Laid out beside it were various toiletries – soap, shaving lather, powder and a brush set.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and shook his head at the image. He could only imagine what Sammy would say if he saw him in the long silk nightshirt he was wearing. At home he'd usually slept in his long-johns. Which was what a man wore. This looked like something his mom would wear.

He had to admit though, it was damned comfortable.

For a moment he studied himself in the mirror. He'd grown a little pale in the last two weeks. And, was his face a little rounder?

He reached down and pinched his midriff. Still slim, he thought, but there was definitely a bit of flab that hadn't been there when he'd arrived.

Which was understandable.

Hell, there was nothing else to do here but eat. Especially since it had rained every day.

"If you're concerned with your weight, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Dean started and turned.

His husband stood in the doorway.

Cas was fully dressed in a grey suit, a crisp white shirt and a burgundy cravat. Even his hair was looking a little less disheveled than usual.

Not that Dean had seen much of him.

Actually, this was the first time Cas had stepped into Dean's room. Well, his doorway at least.

"Good morning Cas. What can I do for you?" Dean asked rather cooly.

Cas tilted his head as though the question were odd.

"Maybe I was just checking to see how my husband is making out."

Dean scowled and then turned away and began to lather his face.

"I'm fine. Thanks for your concern."

"You know, you're the only person who's ever called me Cas. It's very…familiar."
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again if it bothers you."

"I didn't say it bothered me, Dean. It's just…well, we don't know each other very well."

"And who's fault is that?" Dean asked.

Cas smiled softly. "I suppose you're going to say it's mine."

"Yeah. I suppose I am. You've made it clear since I got here, you want nothing to do with me."

"I don't believe I've done anything to make you think that."

Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"So I guess it's just bad timing that every time I go down to eat, you've already eaten? Or that you leave almost every day and don't get home again until dark? Except of course for that one day when I went down to see your stupid bee houses and you told me to get lost."

"I didn't tell you to 'get lost."

"Fine, you told me to go away."

"I was afraid you'd get stung. And they are not bee houses. It's called an apiary."

"Well, it doesn't matter. Why are you here, anyway?" Dean asked as he carefully ran the straight razor down his cheek.

Cas hesitated and then sighed. "There's a wedding in Angel Haven this afternoon."
"Angel Haven?"

"It's the village on the estate grounds."

Dean vaguely remembered passing a few small houses and a general store the night he'd arrived.

"Okay. So there's a wedding. What about it?"

"Well, you see, it's a tradition that a member of the royal family stop by and bring the new couple a gift."

"Uhuh." Dean lifted his nose and carefully scraped the razer down his upper lip.

"You know there is a barber who will do that for you." Cas said, watching him with some fascination.

"I don't want some stranger coming near my face with a razor." Dean answered as he reached down and dipped the blade in the soapy water.

"I promise you, Henry's a very nice man. He lives in the village. I've known him since I was a child."

"Thanks. But I prefer to shave myself."

Dean put down the razor and wiped his face with a soft towel. And then he glanced at the clothes Mr. Ketch had laid out.

He noticed they were even fancier than usual. The moss green jacket was velvet, and the shirt was white silk.

He looked over at Cas who was still standing in the doorway.

"Are you asking me to go to a wedding with you, Cas?"

Cas hesitated. "Well, no."

For some reason Dean felt a twinge of disappointment. "Oh. So, what did you want then?"

"It would be inappropriate for us to attend the actual wedding. But there's a celebration after the ceremony where I'm to present a gift to the couple. I thought perhaps you could accompany me. Actually, as the presiding monarch, it would also be a good opportunity for you to meet the villagers."

"What do you mean, presiding monarch?"

"I'm an omega, Dean. Which means you are the reigning prince now."

"You're still the prince."

"Yes. But in name only. All decisions, all property, all authority…well virtually everything that was mine, is yours now. At least until our child is born. And then everything will be passed on to him…or her. Unless of course, we have the misfortune of having an omega."

"And then what would happen?" Dean asked.

"The child would be considered as useless as I am. So, I suppose we would have to try again."

Dean felt a little indignity at that comment.

This wasn't the first time he'd noticed that Cas held such a low opinion of himself. And he didn't understand it.

Cas was the prince afterall. He was also strong and intelligent and damned good looking too.

There was no reason he should feel like this.

Well, except for one.

He was an omega.

And that reason wasn't good enough. Not in Dean's view anyway.

"You know Cas, if we ever did have a kid and someone called him useless, I'd kick his ass."

Cas nodded and Dean actually thought he detected a hint of a smile. "If you didn't, then I would." He said softly.

"I'm glad to hear it. So…If we're going to a wedding, I probably should get dressed."

With that thought he reached down and pulled his nightshirt up over his head.

He couldn't deny it gave him some satisfaction to see the shocked look on Cas' face.

Dean smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Does my nakedness offend my husband?"

Cas cleared his throat. "No."

"Good. Because we are married, Cas. Whether you like it or not."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"Well then you also know, there's only one way we're going to give your mum that heir that she wants so badly."

Cas' grumpy scowl had disappeared, and he was actually blushing. And for the first time Dean saw the innocent kid Cas must have been once.

"You don't think…I mean you're not suggesting that we…right now?" Cas stammered.

Dean grinned and threw his nightshirt down on the chair. He stepped up to Cas until their eyes were only inches apart and for the first time he detected Cas' omega scent. It was subtle, but sweet and enticing and he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to lean in and steal a kiss.

He didn't though. It wasn't time. Not yet.

Instead he reached up and pulled down the robe that was hanging on the door-hook and slipped it on.

"Don't worry, Cas." He said softly. "Nothing will ever happen until we're both ready."

Cas released a relieved breath. But his scowl returned and Dean sighed and walked back to the dressing table and took a seat.

"So what time is the wedding?" he asked.

"It takes place at noon. We'll wait outside the church in the carriage and when the couple comes out, we'll present them with the gift. It will be a small bag of gold coins to help them begin their life."

Dean nodded. "I see."

"So you will come then?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Yeah Cas. I wouldn't miss it." Dean answered.

Cas nodded. "Very good. We should leave by eleven sharp. That should give you enough time to have your breakfast."

"Will you be joining me?" Dean asked.

"No. I've already eaten. I'll see you at the stables at eleven."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Dean sighed and turned back to the mirror.

He picked up the ornate gilded brush and ran it through his short hair.

And then he smirked.

"You know, I can dress myself."

"Of course you can, sir." Mr. Ketch replied.

"But you're going to help me anyway."

"It is my job, sir."

Dean turned and smiled at the Englishman who waited expectantly in the doorway.

"Fine. But I think we need to clear up some things first."

Mr. Ketch raised a brow curiously.

"Number one," Dean continued, "if you're gonna be practically living up my ass, I think we should be on a first-name basis."

"I'm sorry sir?"

Dean smiled. "It's Dean."

"But…"

Dean lifted up his finger to stop him.

"And your name is?"

"It's…it's Arthur."

"Arthur huh? It suits you."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, looking unsure if he was being insulted.

"Secondly," Dean continued. "I don't want to wake up to find you standing at the bottom of my bed. It's…creepy."

To Dean's surprise, Arthur smirked "As you please…Dean."

"And third. I like coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. When I wake up in the morning, I like a cup of coffee. So when you knock on my door in the morning, I'd appreciate it if you could bring a cup of coffee with you. Or actually, you might as well bring the whole pot. And bring an extra cup for yourself."

"Alright Dean. Is that everything?"

"Yeah. I think so. For now anyway."

"Very good."

Arthur then stepped into the room and walked over to the settee.

And then he looked at Dean expectantly.

"Shall we get dressed then Dean?" he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Yeah, Arthur. What the hell. Let's get dressed."