There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.
JANE AUSTEN, Persuasion
The two days that followed were filled with Ruby and Castiel frequenting each other's apartments. But not accomplishing anything in the process of being successfully annoying.
She continued to steal his snacks and suck up his expensive wines. And he retaliated by diminishing her Hunts chocolate puddings; at least one in every two hours.
It was a partnership that survived only on their mutual passion to work on a pain in the ass article. Yet, try as he might, Castiel couldn't seem to focus.
He was constantly bombarded by mini heart attacks from what had happened between him and Dean. And Ruby's incessant chatter on the television show 'Reign' wasn't helping.
"I mean, Bash is like so fuckable but then there's Francis. I can't make up my mind," she was chewing on Twizzlers, yanking at them like the feisty beast she was. "Who do you prefer?"
"Hmm?" he considered the two neat paragraphs on the laptop screen, serving as an introduction to the Royal family. Frowning, Castiel hit the BACKSPACE key and cleared all of it with a groan.
"Bash or Francis," Ruby tried again, rearing her head to consider him sitting crossed legged on her black leather sofa. "Which one is your type?"
"I don't…have a type," he said, quite distracted by the blank WORD document.
What on earth should be his opening?
Obviously something catchy. Perhaps, 'it all began with the sparkling green eyes that bewitched the entire world'. Or 'nothing could ever compare to the playful smile and soft boyish manners of the Duke of York'.
"Fuck," Castiel swore, yanked off his black glasses and tossed them aside. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, eyes squeezed shut. "I am absolutely fucked."
"Here," Ruby pushed herself up, and sauntered towards him, balancing her pink laptop in one hand. "This might cheer you up." She plopped onto the couch next to him and surrounded his space with the light scent of vanilla. "That's Bash," she pointed at a handsome dark-haired man on the screen. "And that's Francis." The other one was desirably good looking with blonde hair.
"Since when am I an expert on choosing the most appealing man?" he nudged her right arm and she playfully returned the gesture. "Oh, come on. Get out of my space. You smell too delectable." He ignored her mischievous grin and pointed at Francis. "Him."
"Are you serious right now?"
"I am in no mood for games," he squeezed out of the small space on the couch and went towards the dining table.
The view was stunning from where Ruby sat every morning to enjoy her bowls of oatmeal. The river Thames, from her balcony began just a stone's throw away and the water was flat and glassy at ten in the morning.
After the Ball two days ago, he managed to divulge just enough information to whet Ruby's palette. Purposely leaving out the bit about Dean's involvement in breaking up her ties to Sam because if there was one thing to consider about Ruby; she was vicious and he wouldn't put it past his friend to storm up to the palace screaming threats.
It wasn't the time or place for that sort of outburst since they were working on an article about the Royal Wedding. Mind you, a wedding that seemed to pull Castiel's head under water more and more as he kept latching onto whatever he was feeling for the Prince. The kind of fearful but fleeting feeling of not knowing what would happen but guiltily desiring it anyway.
When was the last time he had a little thrill in his life?
"I still think Bash is totally hotter," Ruby continued her childish lament on something Castiel couldn't care less about.
He had managed to type well into his third paragraph by lunch. Regrettably, after leaving her apartment with the promise that they would meet up for a night on the town later, he didn't feel up to it.
Castiel was so introverted, he desired the confinements of his room because he really needed to charge up his batteries after running in the danger zone a little more than expected. His brain was in overdrive. His heart was steaming from emotions. And no matter how many videos of Jennifer Lopez he watched, the strain on his sexuality still remained.
For the very first time in Castiel's entire existence, Dean was the one and only young man who had managed to cast a net on him. A web of lethal desire; if he was to concoct a painful phrase.
It's not that he was so infatuated by the Prince that he wanted to physically…well that was a blatant lie. No. This wasn't just an instance where he spied Zac Efron on the television and thought he was a damn good-looking man.
This was so much more than that. And he distinctly remembered standing under the moonlight, and gazing into Dean's eyes as the other man expelled his love for Jane Austen.
The honesty on other qualities that were admirable and mutual sparked up a fire inside of Castiel because they had a lot in common thus far and the similarities were entirely intriguing.
But the exactitude of these similarities was too prickly to hold and he regrettably ended up voicing his frustrations. And just in that moment when those green eyes were lit by small warm fires, Castiel had wanted to kiss Dean.
He had really wanted to close the distance between them and softly taste Dean's lips, curious to discover how another man's mouth would feel as compared to a woman's soft one. Knowing well enough that lips as beautifully formed as the Prince's, had to be worthy and an experience. And because he had lost all common sense and couldn't seem to grab it back, Castiel tried to blame Dean.
He was trying to burn away the love with the kind of hatred that stemmed from disapproval of Dean's advances and boldness, of his pursuit and constant need to prove a point; to push and push until he unearthed a reaction. And the more Castiel thought about it, he hated that he was being chased after by a man.
All the doubts that welled up seemed to never quite settle comfortably without proving that life's journey may never be predictable. Had he known a month prior that the pursuit of a young man to deliberately invade his personal space would eventually have him questioning his sexuality; then Castiel would have laughed and called the entire premonition off as frivolous.
Two knocks on the door yanked him out of the tank full of immoral thoughts. And sighing, he locked the laptop. Then his footsteps padded softly on the floor as he went towards the intruder of a very peaceful afternoon.
"A letter from the Westfordshire Palace, sir," a man dressed in the finest black suit and royal blue tie bowed and held out a white envelope that had very interesting gold trimmings.
"From where?" Castiel collected the mail and frowned.
"Her Majesty, the Queen."
"What on earth is—" but before he could continue, the fellow briskly walked off down the hall, never looking back.
Castiel's eyes followed him to the elevator five doors down wearing a confused expression. The hotel was extremely quiet. Maybe because it was just 2 o'clock on a Monday evening. But the delivery of a mail such as he was holding in his hand was completely suspicious in its nature.
He took the envelope to the small couch, poured himself two inches of wine and sat back studying the gold trimmings. The address was printed in gold too. And after he dared to sniff the stationery, he distinctly detected a faint scent of jasmine.
"Not bad at all," Castiel gave into his curiosity regardless of the doubts and gently pried open the flap. He pulled out a small off-white card. "Handwritten too. What sorcery is this?"
Dear Castiel Novak,
I sincerely hope that you are well and you're enjoying your stay in England. I would like to invite you to have afternoon tea with me at 4p.m prompt. A car will be waiting outside your residence at 3:30p.m.
Sincerely,
Mary Winchester
He read the letter several times, searching even between the ink for forgery. Holding it up to the light to assess the distinct watermark which turned out to be quite genuine enough. And afterwards, Castiel marveled over two things: actually receiving a letter from her Majesty, the Queen. And being invited to have tea with her.
But why on earth was she requesting his company?
When the burning answer rushed in like a tsunami into his mind, blaring all the truths, Castiel rose up from the chair.
Dean Winchester.
He stopped breathing, stared through the opened window as the red lace fluttered to one side. And because he was seldomly overwhelmed with nervousness, he frightened himself from feeling exactly that.
Why should the invitation speak of any other intentions other than the blatant advances and public displays of affections?
After deciding on a simple grey long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black tailored pants, he left his hair untamed and ventured downstairs at a quarter to 4.
As promised, a black Bentley was hanging by the curb with heavily tinted windows. And as he tentatively approached the vehicle polished and shining, a man politely stepped up and pulled open the door.
If he described the ride to Westfordshire Palace as uneventful and serene, it would be a lie, because as soon as he folded himself neatly into the backseat, Castiel came face to face with no other than a grinning Sam Winchester.
"Good golly, I didn't know we were taking the same car!" the Duke of Sussex offered up a wink.
"Very funny," Castiel shook his head, mild amusement showing on his face. Trying to contain his true feelings on the matter wasn't that difficult. Naturally, his disposition never quite reflected anything tied to his emotions unless the situation was too overwhelming.
"Geez, don't be nervous. Actually, that's why I came with the car," Sam cleared his throat and affectionately patted the other man on his back. "I thought you would be. So, I came to personally assure you along the way that my mother is the softest, kindest woman you will ever meet."
"That's not the only reason why I'm nervous."
"The topic of discussion."
"Exactly," Castiel nodded, folded his arms and squinted at the top of the driver's head. He detected a blue streak which was rather wild for a chauffeur of the Royal family to be sporting.
"If it makes you feel any better, the tea is exceptional at Westfordshire." Sam's legs were so long and cramped in the backseat, he didn't even seem to be uncomfortable though.
"I'm more of a coffee junkie. But I favor teas as my first cup in the morning. And before bed."
"You ever poured whiskey in your tea?"
Castiel stared. "A little bit goes a long way to begin and end the day."
"I like you," Sam smiled widely whilst nodding slowly. "A man who has his shit together, who has developed habits that are very admirable. And…most of all, a man who has standards that can knock my brother down a peg or two."
"I intend to do no such thing."
"Oh, but admit that it would be fun," Sam tipped his head and offered a teasing look. "So, so much fun. Anyway, enough about Dean. Have you been able to check out most of London as yet?"
Castiel used the rest of the time to decorate his experience thus far with visits to the London Eye, the Tower of London and the Zoo.
The first two were compliments of Ruby, to which he didn't include her name as the tour guide. And the last one didn't include anyone else whilst a group of teenagers kept calling him Clark Kent and laughingly asking where he hid his cape.
"You've got to let me take you to the other fun places," Sam raked his fingers through shiny locks. "Since all three of us are book nerds, I bet you'll like a few cafes and hangout spots in London. Like the Cat Nap for instance."
Castiel wasn't keen on the idea of spending time with Dean Winchester before sorting out his scrambling thoughts. The collision could be detrimental and the aftermath of a hurricane like the last time they came face to face.
He couldn't forget spending the entire night consuming two bottles of merlot and eventually numbing the small insecurities that wrapped around his heart like weeds.
"Just a minute," Sam touched his arm when they were on the steps of the palace. When their eyes met, he offered a sympathetic look. "There's more to Dean than even the BBC or any paper could ever know, including you. I'm not just saying that he is everything good in the world. But he has many demons."
"Don't we all?" Castiel frowned.
He didn't leave his newfound friend's side until the two of them were rung in to his mother's sitting room on the topmost floor of the palace. From there, Sam stole a scone from the table, remarked on the warmth of the room. And then he left a quite nervous Castiel who didn't know where to stand or what to say.
Queen Mary, on the other hand, offered nothing but a sense of calm and an abundance of smiles. "I always tell my Prime Minister to leave his nerves at the door." She gestured for him to have a seat opposite her. "You're no different. It's nice to officially meet you, Castiel."
"And you, your Highness," lacing his fingers together, he tried to take measured breaths. Come on. Keep the calm. The discussion could lead to Dean but that doesn't mean that he couldn't absorb the beauty of the room or the actuality of the invitation.
Tea with her Majesty.
How many persons managed to be fortunate enough to receive such a privilege?
Mary's gown was a beautiful shade of aquamarine. A color that he detested but adored on her because she wore the piece so well with its short sleeves and white gloves covered in the same color sequins. Even her blonde hair was neatly swept up into her signature look, twisted in place by two gold butterfly clasps that had been a gift from King John on their engagement.
It was remarkable how his wealth of the Royal Family could be tapped into in any situation.
"Do you like London so far? I hope you've been to the Eye."
"I love it," he felt obliged to express his awe. "I've oftentimes been mesmerized by the beauty of it on television. But to see it up close…"
The light in her green eyes was sparkling. "It's one of my favorites. And the chocolate cones that Billy sells by the gate. They're so yummy."
"I actually had two," Castiel shrugged. "Without regret. I intend to go back again soon. Before I leave."
"And I hope that you're not leaving soon," Mary looked saddened by the thought. She rose up, and poured them two cups of tea. "Sugar and milk?"
"Neither, thank you," he was awed by her willingness to step outside of what was expected of the role as a Queen to actually prepare his cup.
"A man who is simple yet oh so complicated," she was smiling, and carefully handed him the cup of fine white china with veins of blue. "Just like John. I have this way of judging people from the way they take their teas. Sam is more of a caffeine junkie. Adam is chai tea with no sugar. And Dean…"
When her eyes rested lightly on him, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Not because it wasn't soft enough. Dear God, it was softer than a cloud. And the armrest was solid oak painted gold. The carpet under his shoes was a beautiful caramel color. But they were eventually introducing the real reason why he was inside her sitting room and the nervousness would not evaporate.
"Well, Dean is all coffee, no sugar. To get him to drink a cup of tea, I have to bribe him with something else. But he takes teas for remedial purposes. Chai, for example is one of his favorites since it's a substitute for coffee. And he also uses honey occasionally."
"And what does that say about his personality?" Castiel was intrigued. As promised by Sam, a sip of the tea was reminiscent of riding into the sunset on a warm afternoon.
"I feel that it means more like…" she was searching the ceiling with a slight smile, "when he wants something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. Regardless of the cost. He doesn't sugar coat anything. He's always truthful."
Castiel was having a hard time not falling prey to reading between the lines. After all, he wasn't too clear on what the purpose of the visit was, but he was quite certain of one thing. The Queen was a smart woman who cared a lot about her sons. Most of all, the Duke of York. And if he was invited here on a Monday evening, then the topic would more than likely be about her favorite.
"Between me and you, I only serve tea because it's polite and expected of me. But if I had my way, you and I would be knocking down a glass or two of whiskey."
He had to laugh and she did too. He liked her already; her honesty. The way she exuberated a sense of warmth and liveliness. But every single time he tried to admire her traits, she reminded him of the one person he was trying to forget.
"Is being a reporter fun?" Mary kept examining his face as if prodding for something more.
"Well it has its ups and downs," he sipped some tea and rested the cup lightly on the saucer. "I've always liked the part where I get to sit down and actually work on the article."
"Instead of going out there and trying to squeeze it out of people of interest," she shared a look of understanding. "You're a great writer, Castiel. I read the article you wrote about Jane Austen's Love Affair. I think that was two years ago. And because I'm a huge fan of Bronte, I found it rather interesting. Especially how you used Jane's life experiences to explain why she might have picked those plots for her stories."
Had she only read it recently or indeed prior? He might never know because he wasn't going to ask.
"I think it's one of the many reasons why my son is so drawn to you," her eyes remained on his face. Her disposition remained cheerful. "He is so obsessed with Austen."
"That much I gathered from what he told me."
"So, the two of you have been talking to each other. That's nice. It means that you're getting to know him and I'm glad because that's why I called you here. Well, apart from showing off my scones and getting to see how handsome you are up close."
The humor in her eyes forced out a chuckle from Castiel but of course, the cold brush of the truth inside of his chest seemed to stifle him.
"Thank you for the compliment. And I'm now anxious to taste those scones," he offered nothing but a smile that felt stiff and quite unbecoming.
Mary leaned back, as if contemplating what to say next. She rested her saucer and teacup on the small table on her right, then their eyes met again. This time though, she wasn't smiling but exhibited a concerned countenance that unsettled him.
"Castiel, I don't know how to say this to you. Or how to put it lightly. But please don't feel as if I'm trying to be deliberately harsh." After taking two seconds to gather herself, Mary sighed.
"Dean is…falling in love with you by the day. You're everything he talks about when he's with me. And I've never seen him so caught up in someone. So, please. If you do not feel the same way about him, then I would like you to have a conversation with him about it. And then I would like you to leave." The look in her eyes was so soft and so saddened from the thought of Castiel doing exactly that. "I am hoping with all my heart right now that the attraction is mutual between you two. For his sake."
Castiel didn't know what to say.
Instead, he sat stiffly in one attitude for a prolonged minute whilst she offered him a scone. Then he nibbled on it and voiced his judgement on the truth in her earlier words about its quality. Mary admitted that the recipe had been passed down from her grandmother.
"You're probably wondering why I'm hoping that you love my son as much as he loves you when he's about to get married," Mary continued, taking another cup of tea. After Castiel declined, she settled into her chair again. "Well, to be honest, I don't even want him to marry Annalise. But we've waited long enough for him to find someone he likes and just when we decided for the third time on someone we thought would suit him, you happened."
Castiel gulped down a mouthful of scone and thanked the heavens that he didn't choke. She was being so direct in her statements that the honesty was refreshing but constipating his mind because he couldn't quite fathom the weight of the implications.
Did she really want him to interrupt a pending marriage?
"You not saying anything is making me feel like I'm scaring the hell out of you."
He actually snorted because the way she spoke was so relaxed like her youngest son, and very American.
"Forgive me, but I'm just trying to digest this wonderful bit of a snack whilst battling silently with my thoughts."
"Of which I hope are good thoughts…"
"I'm beginning to question my judgments. I've spent most of my days in London so far doing a lot of thinking instead of sightseeing."
"That's so tragic," she pouted and relaxed her shoulders.
"Heart and mind, I suppose."
"Forever at war," Mary admitted softly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually not enjoying having this conversation as much as you are." When Castiel laughed, she marveled over his openness. "You know what?" she held out her cup to cheer him, "I like that you're an old soul and I love people who understand that the most amazing things in life come from within."
At the moment though, he wasn't so certain that what resided within him was amazing.
He was still in doubt and even more so over Mary's honest attempts to safeguard her son's heart, which pretty much left Castiel feeling terrible about himself because here was a mother who cared for nothing more than to see her son happy. And there he was, sitting with his mind set on denying his growing feelings.
"Dean has had a terrible childhood," she said after some time had passed by. The light outside had dulled the afternoon a little into a shade of dark orange. "Most of it you probably know already. But the worst part of all is that I think the battle inside his head began with the accident."
Castiel's heart stopped. He stared. "The…accident?"
"You remember when the Bentley crashed in 2006? He was only five."
He could vaguely recall having a tough time with his ex-wife that year. Castiel had taken two months off from work to vacation with Hanna in Canada only to discover that she slept with a guest in the hotel. So, at the time, he wasn't privy to a lot of things that were happening in the world.
"I have to admit that I was away from work for a period of time," he told Mary.
She sighed, acknowledging the unfortunate occurrence. "It was tragic, Castiel. He was on his way to a birthday party and when the car hit a hydrant from swerving away from another car, he came out just fine. He went to the party, had a good time, came home, ate his dinner, went to bed. And then it was like a week after," her eyes were soft with tears as she looked at him, "he started complaining about these awful headaches. When we took him to the doctor, we found out that he was suffering from head trauma."
"I had no idea," Castiel said as his heart sank.
"Neither did we apparently. But he suffers from insomnia, he still gets these headaches and sometimes he…" she hugged herself as if chilled from the thought, "…gets really depressed, it scares me. Anyway," Mary inhaled deeply and tried to smile at Castiel, "if you love him, which I'm sure you do, you'll give him a reason to have hope. And you'll help him see that he deserves to be happy."
She was concealing something else though. That much was given by the way the Queen diverted her attention elsewhere and he wondered what the shadows in her eyes were hiding.
"I have no intention of depriving him of being happy," Castiel said sympathetically. He wasn't about to launch into a proclamation of self-denial on his feelings.
"If not lovers, then friends," Mary said finally, "because God knows he needs someone like you in his life. I would love for us to chat longer but I have this stupid party that I have to attend in Downing Street and I hate parties."
"Well, do what I always do since I hate them too," he rose up and she came towards him for a hug, "find someone who shares an interest with you and latch yourself onto that person for the remainder of the evening." They hugged and Mary was soft in their embrace.
"I'd beg you to become my future son-in-law, but then that would be too rude." She captured his face between her palms and smiled. "Give him a chance, Castiel. He's young. I know that he's young in your eyes. But he's a wonderful young man."
After she rung the bell to signal him leaving the room, Sam was waiting just outside the door. And when the youngest Winchester noticed his friend emerging, he sprang up gleefully.
"Come quick! I want to show you around," Sam rested his hand on Castiel's back encouragingly.
"I feel privileged."
"Don't be so modest. I'm only doing it because you're handsome. But not handsome enough to tempt me", he mocked Dean in an uptight manner.
Castiel chuckled as they rounded a corner and Sam pushed open heavy double doors covered in gold vines. And taking the other man's right hand, he tugged him into a space that was so grand, it couldn't be a sitting room although it contained a set of five sofas. A large plasma television was positioned on the wall and a gaming console rested underneath in a bracket.
"Adam's the video game type," Sam said standing back and smiling at the look on Castiel's face. "I'm more of a Netflix documentaries type. Occasional binge on TV shows."
"These most definitely must be Dean's collection," Castiel ran his fingers lightly over the spines of Disney movies ranging from Snow White to Frozen 2.
"Dude, if he's told you about his obsession over that, then he really must love you. Come," Sam gestured for the other man to follow him.
Castiel was in awe with the Prince's personality, he immediately thought that it wasn't so bad to make a friend in the Royal family. Maybe Sam was treating him in such a way because of his brother doting on Castiel, but it was genuine. And it was guiltily comforting to know that throughout the struggles the situation was presenting, some good could come out of it.
Pushing open another set of double doors, Sam led him down a short hallway that had three identical doors. Each was labelled with three names. But Adam's sign had a large red X across it and the severity was rather amusing to think that either of his brothers had done that.
"Brace yourself," the tall lanky Prince winked, and then he pushed open the one labelled 'Dean'.
When Castiel didn't comply in following him though, Sam was forced to reach out and yank him into the space that was so large, at first, he couldn't take it all in. He couldn't swallow the entirety of walking into a bedroom that was the definition of a bed chamber with a large king size canopy bed.
The curtains were green, the exact shade of Dean's eyes. And the walls…
It was like walking into another world. The walls were covered in a soft blue with twinkling stars and framed on them were pictures of each Disney prince and princess who were ever happily ever married.
In between them over the years though, as he bloomed into a young man with adapted tastes, Dean had added ACDC posters, Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, even Tina Turner.
He had a mini hall of fame over his bed with a poster of Helen Shapiro, The Ronettes, The Supremes, Paul Anka, Prince, the famous Freddie Mercury. But the most beautiful part of it all was the roof that was studded with all shapes of stars and barely glowing yellow in the faint light.
"Told ya," Sam spun around, arms wide open and scoffed. "Obsessed."
"It's…breathtaking," was all Castiel could say.
"Since we were kids, Dean always used to tell me that he wanted to fall in love and then get married like a fairytale. He always was the one who believed in finding love more than marrying for benefits. Which is why," Sam turned to the other man and smiled, "when he said the same thing in front of those cameras outside the Brighton hotel, I knew that something was happening to him. I mean, he's never been in love. All he does is one-night stands. But when he called you Ocean Eyes…"
Castiel was at a loss for words from the entirety of the room and what Sam had contributed, because all of it made enough sense to gather a clearer picture on Dean.
Growing up with these dreams. Trying to find himself through the trauma. It was like the worst battle ever for a child to want something so bad, to be different and then he was constantly told by his father that he couldn't be himself. That he shouldn't be a fairy as the tabloids had reported years ago.
King John went as far as telling the public that he had a son and a daughter before Sam's birth. And Castiel couldn't begin to imagine the hurt and shame Dean must have felt, contained in these walls. It must have felt like a prison so he designed his room as his escape.
He had a large castle in the corner, complete with a drawbridge and foot soldiers. Dean's bookcase was wide and stocked with titles that were very familiar to Castiel. He felt like he was connecting with the other man even without having a conversation with him.
Then there was the sound of soft footsteps on the carpet outside.
"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my…" the very man Castiel was thinking about strode into the room.
The actuality of having his space trespassed on was tragic enough. But when he fixed his attention on who it was. Those green eyes widened, his lips parted and Dean stumbled on the rest of his sentence.
"I was only showing our VIP guest around," Sam said smartly. "You know, the guest who is about to become family."
But his remarks were left unchecked as Castiel stared back, obviously dumbfounded. Overwhelmed suddenly with a rush of feelings that had been held back by a dam he thought was sturdy enough. Now was bursting forth with so many feelings for Dean, he couldn't even breathe.
And Dean…
He was so astonished to even encounter the other man, on top of that, the fact that Castiel was standing in his bedroom. His happy place. The only part of the goddamn palace that he had been most joyful in whilst growing up and still sought comfort in. Even at the age of twenty-nine.
I am most certainly not attracted to you.
You're a man. Who is…immature and light humored and too reckless.
The two of them blinked away their stares only to enact a prolonged gaze, one that expressed so many truths on Dean's side and so many doubts on Castiel's, that Sam had to clear his throat two times in order to announce that he was still present.
But even then, as Castiel gathered himself and exhaled slowly whilst his eyes flicked away, he still was losing all composure.
Maybe I'm the kind of guy who wants to take the risk and fall in love because I feel that you're worth it.
Thanks for proving to me that I'm not worth it to even someone as attractive and amazing and handsome as you are.
Castiel couldn't believe that he was trying to bury the magnitude of it all. When everything held a weight so heavy that threatened to crumble him with one look at Dean. And then the worst part of it all, possibly the most hurtful part came afterwards.
"I just remembered…I have to…check on something," Dean said in a voice deeply affected by emotions. And after throwing one last glance at his brother, he turned on his heels and left.
When Dean left though, Castiel felt like something inside of him died and if he was in desperate need to convince himself of the actuality of the connection between them, then the pain proved to be the blaring truth.
"No, shit, Dean, wait up!" the younger Winchester pelted out of the room and left Castiel standing there alone.
"In my room? Sam?" when they were out of earshot, Dean rounded on his brother. "Really?"
"Look, I was just showing him around. Stop overreacting." The two of them squared their shoulders but never quite reaching the breaking point consisting of tremendous anger.
"It's embarrassing," Dean's face contorted from his feelings. "The things that I have in there are…everything that I'm not supposed to be."
"But you told him about most of it already," Sam's tone softened. He patted Dean on the shoulder. "He likes it, Dean. He really likes those parts of you. I thought that I could help by making him see how amazing you are."
Dean licked his lips, glanced away frantically and was trying to hold back the tears. "Sam, he's already made it clear that he doesn't feel the same about me."
"Yeah, but he's lying…look, he's probably scared about how he feels. Just because he denied it, it doesn't mean that it's not there. Trust me, I've talked to him and I see the way his face changes. How much he cares."
"I wish you and mom would stop meddling in my life," Dean said in a stiff tone. "Both of you should just leave this alone."
"Oh, right. Because you're going to do this all on your own like you usually do," Sam stepped back.
"I can handle my own damn problems."
"With booze and wild parties?" Sam was direct. "Since when do you ever give up just like that? You're the one who told me that when you first met him, you felt something like you never did before. And you're going to give up on that?"
"Then what do you want me to do?" Dean's eyes filled with tears. "Keep trying to have a conversation with him whilst he shuts me down? Keep trying to get to know him, keep sharing personal things about me with him so that he could hurt me?"
"Dean…"
"I'm willing to run after him as fast as I can. But I really don't think he wants me. And I've asked him to start over but he never replied. So, there's nothing left to do but to move on."
"Oh, I've had just enough of this crap," Sam suddenly said in a frustrated tone. He strode out of the room, and returned a few seconds after, tugging Castiel like a puppet by his right hand. "Listen, I'm going to say this whether the two of you like it or not, okay?" he positioned both of them so that they were facing each other.
"Sam..." Dean warned, his heart racing like a train blasting through the night.
"No, shut up for just a second," Sam's tone was softer now as he squeezed his jaw, appearing pensive. "As an outsider, and more than half of England by now, it's damn obvious that the two of you are attracted to each other. I'm going to go low grade and say that I know so far for sure, that you at least like each other."
"Hardly mutual," Dean muttered, avoiding eye contact with Castiel.
"Now, this is the part that might cause both of you to hate me but thank me later," Sam shot a warning look at his brother who was about to interrupt. "Since the afternoon hasn't faded as yet, I want you two to take a turn around the grounds and talk at least. And if you say no," he stopped Dean who squeaked. "I will definitely get mom involved. And believe me, she will order the guards to make sure that the two of you do it. So, you decide," Sam folded his arms. "Guards or no guards."
For a full minute, Dean and Castiel cautiously allowed their eyes to meet, considered the floor and then looked at each other again. But every time they looked at each other, the anger slowly faded. The actuality of being in the same room, of having that one opportunity to push aside the pain and focus on hope…
Dean was so certain that all good faith died the last time they talked to each other, that being alone in each other's company would be too detrimental to his health. And there was no way that Castiel would comply with such a request.
After all, wasn't he immature and reckless?
Wasn't he too young to be considered as deserving company?
"I'd like that," Castiel said softly, after a while of pondering silently. And when he spoke, he drew the attention of Dean immediately.
The look of utter shock in those green eyes was enough to satisfy the quiver in Castiel's heart.
"You…would?" Dean croaked, already melting and he stared back, blinked slowly and his balled fists released into splayed fingers.
Castiel nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "Yes, if you would like that too."
"I…would. I'd like that. More than anything in the world," Dean's chest heaved. And Sam…
Well, Sam bounced on the spot, spun around and pumped his fists in the air whilst repeatedly shouting 'yes!'