Why not seize pleasure at once?
How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!
JANE AUSTEN, Emma
After that night when they had collided in the garden at the Westfordshire Palace, something had changed drastically between them.
Castiel felt the magnitude of it like tidal waves as the two of them went down hallways. Quiet. No words spoken. The softness of their footsteps. The whispers of the wind and the doubts overriding anything else that felt comforting.
Dean was everything that Castiel thought he was not though.
The way he opened doors for Castiel was something that touched his heart and drowned the pain. The glances that offered nothing but a soft meekness and an abundance of hanging onto every single second. And as he followed the Prince, he realized that maybe he was living inside a Jane Austen novel.
Dean was light-spirited because of his younger years. But he had the kind of certainty that flashed behind those green eyes when his anger flared. And it was something Castiel couldn't wipe away from his memory.
Back when Sam had made the declaration that they both were attracted to each other, Dean's quick response was to shut it down as a lie. Of course, his underlying belief in the statement lacking honesty was derived from their last conversation, when Castiel had wrongfully voiced his disinclination towards the other man.
Now though, whilst the two of them passed by large windows exposed by parted heavy blue blinds. As they slowly moved through passageways and through doors, he felt the aftermath. He honestly did.
The storm that had gathered inside of Dean, the little ball of fury threatening to unfold into a hurricane because why? Castiel had deprived him of the simplicity of understanding and of being given a chance.
They fell into the same pace beside each other until the softness of the grass was under their shoes.
With his hands hanging down his sides, Castiel glanced at the Prince and wished he could pay to discover his innermost thoughts. The reasons why Dean was biting his tongue during their journey through the castle. He was always so talkative but the absence of a conversation between them was like standing inside a blizzard.
Really and truly. Was it out of anger? Or was Dean afraid to say something? And the more Castiel dwelled on the latter, he felt terrible because he had caused this.
Shouldn't maturity direct him down a better path of letting go of wrongs that had nothing to do with him and picking his own battle to fight?
The two of them kept on the concrete path that led to the gardens and a soft afternoon breeze was chasing butterflies.
The sun had dipped low in the sky. There was just one staff on the grounds fixing a green hose that snaked back to a garden shed. But they were completely alone and very soon, the silence started to eat away at Castiel's heart and mind.
"The scones are wonderful. I had two," he said with a forced smile that began to hurt his face. And when the realization kicked in of how dumb it was to remark on a snack, Castiel's eyes fluttered close.
"Yeah," was all Dean said, considering the ground as their pace slowed.
He smelled wonderful; fresh and dizzying. And Castiel sighed. "Are the fairy lights a permanent fixture? I recall seeing them strung across this arch."
"Huh?" Dean's tone was soft as he immediately gazed at the other man. "Oh, uh," he squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed. "The lights, right. They're just for the parties."
"I liked them. They created quite a nice ambience."
When the Prince didn't respond in turn, Castiel felt like his chest was exploding. Like he was about to lose both lungs from the tension between them, because it was so thick and resting like a heavy cloud around them.
Dean was having an effect on Castiel like no other man had ever achieved. The quick patter of his heart. The tingle in his fingers and knees turning jelly. The way he felt compelled to inch himself a little closer into Dean's space as they walked side by side.
It was new and electric and Castiel realized that if he savored it, instead of trying to drift into combat mode, a light and soft sensation settled on him like being sprinkled with stars and having the sky's velvet wrap around him.
This was what love must really feel like, he wondered to himself. The giddying feeling from racing down a hill on the back of a horse. The adrenaline rushing through your body like a drug, and chasing emotions inside your veins. The way he couldn't even breathe properly and felt like he was going to fly.
"We should head back," Dean said suddenly, his voice wavering. "I'm sure you have better things to do than to waste time with me."
Castiel instantly experienced the tragedy of suffering in agony. They hadn't even stretched a yard away from the backdoor and Dean was ready to withdraw from his company.
"No," his tone was barely audible. They stared at each other, then that deepened gaze was enacted, quite reminiscent of trying to find each other's souls. "I don't want to leave."
Dean blinked slowly, lips parted and his chest heaved from the incredible feeling of being drawn to the other man. And just like that, he turned away, hands still behind his back. "Okay, but I can't imagine why."
"I like your mother," Castiel rushed out, and forced himself to gather composure. "She's very sweet and kind. And we had quite an enjoyable conversation." Of all the ridiculous things to entertain in a conversation, so far he was losing awfully.
"I'm glad to hear that," Dean said with a small smile though. "She's not so bad."
They walked on some more and drew nearer to a beautiful gazebo made of wrought iron, a red shed and flat wooden seats painted black. "Should we…" Dean cleared his throat and jerked his chin at the structure.
"Why not?" Castiel opened his mind and led the way, curious of course by the intricate design. "This is beautiful."
He lightly ran his fingers over the bannister made of polished wood painted red as he ascended the steps. Castiel could feel Dean's gaze drinking up every move that he made. And it was so intoxicating to have someone admire him like that.
"It's actually over 200 years old, I think. My aunt, mom's sister, bought it from a lover she had in France." Dean stayed standing whilst Castiel continued to caress the bannister all the way around the gazebo. "They had to break it down into parts to get it all here. I think it was so beautiful."
"The gazebo or the story?"
Their eyes met and as Castiel drew nearer, Dean swallowed, obviously deeply affected by when they were in close proximity. "Mostly the story. My aunt's lover was a woman. Darla Hopper. Mom used to tell me the story when I was a kid. About…the two of them falling in love and writing love letters to each other."
"Go on," Castiel neatly lowered himself onto the bench, just a foot away from where the other man stood gazing down at him.
His green eyes contained so much depth in a warm shade that Castiel drowned in effortlessly.
"Well, she used to show mom the letters and it was their little secret for a while. They met each other in a parade then pretty much fell in love immediately. I guess you can call it—"
"Love at first sight," Castiel finished in a soft tone, their eyes never leaving each other. And he felt the tug between them. He felt it and he wondered where it would lead if Dean could just touch him.
He could do it without invitation, Castiel thought to himself guiltily. For the last ten minutes whilst they walked towards the gazebo, Dean's eyes had been touching him in so many places that becoming aware of the Prince's bold glances was too much to bear. And if Dean simply extended his right arm, he could reach Castiel effortlessly without trying.
"It's not something that you believe in obviously," green eyes flicked away. "But, that kind of thing runs in my family. My aunts. An uncle before my mom who was King. Adam and Carlie. Sam and Eileen."
For a moment, there was silence between them that was filled with the sound of the wind rushing through the trees. The flowers nodded their heads. The world around them was so peaceful unlike the hurricanes inside of their hearts.
"Why did you lie about Ruby?" Castiel couldn't bury down the bitter taste of not knowing. And when he looked at Dean, the other man was staring at him like a deer in the headlights. "Why did you advise Sam not to encourage her advances?"
"How did you…"
Castiel sighed though and shook his head. "It's none of my business, I've come to terms with that. But she's been my friend for a very long time. And all I've ever understood about her is that she's had a rough childhood and a tainted past. Something you can relate to."
Dean's eyes flashed. And there it was. The anger. "I don't want to talk about my past."
"I'm not asking you to, Dean."
"Then what do you want me to say?" the other man sounded wounded. "That I'm proud of what I did? Because I'm not and I'll never forgive myself. I was twenty-three and back then, I was a fool to even get involved but all I saw was my really amazing brother who deserved nothing but the best kind of girl. Whilst Ruby was wild and seemed like a bad influence."
"Don't you think that your judgments were a bit harsh though? Considering that you possibly couldn't have known her that well?"
"I knew her enough," Dean's tone was flat but his eyes glistened from tears. "For five years Ruby was always included in any hangouts we had because Sam insisted that she was his friend. But then I saw the way she lived life dangerously. And how she kept trying to get Sam to try new things like smoking weed and I couldn't stand it because my brother was never the type to like those things. But he tried them out because she was pressuring him to change. And me as the big brother had to stand there and watch her try to introduce him to her life."
Castiel nodded with a downcast look, and with his fingers laced, he licked his lips. "Completely understandable."
Apparently, it was enough to stun Dean. "Really?" the Prince asked in awe.
Who was he to judge? Castiel thought that the worst kind of mistake was to never understand someone's choices that they had to make.
"You acted just as any sibling would. In fact, as I think about it, my brother Gabriel did the same thing when I was going to marry my ex-wife. He warned me that she was bad news and that she was reckless and wouldn't settle for contentment with someone like me. And he did it because he loves me. Also, he was right."
"So, you don't hate me," Dean said, lowering himself onto the seat beside Castiel. Their thighs were less than an inch apart. And it was almost as if drawing nearer provided the kind of reassurance he needed. "For what I did."
"I could never hate you, Dean." Their eyes met and from the actuality of how close they were alone, Castiel was suffocating. "Hate is too strong a word for me to place an enormous amount of energy on. And I cannot hate you for loving your brother enough to protect him from going astray."
"I didn't want Sam to become like me. I didn't want him to start living on the wild side. To you know…throw his life into booze and nights on the town with a carefree spirit like your friend. And when I think about it now, do you know what the worst part is?"
Castiel hated the hoarse quality in the other man's voice. "What's that?"
Dean swallowed and wouldn't divert his gaze. He was holding onto that connection. "That it feels like karma because they just met one day and fell in love in a second. And if I didn't pull Sam away, he would probably be married to Ruby. And now, here I am, falling for you…" Dean was forced to look away, blinking fast to chase away the tears. "And it feels like I can't have you because you obviously don't want someone like me."
Castiel's eyes clouded with tears. No, please don't make those assumptions. He bit his lips gingerly, forcing himself to focus. To not collapse. "Dean…"
"No, don't," the other man shook his head and with those emerald eyes squeezed shut, he reached up and pinched his forehead. "Don't put another nail in the coffin, Cas. I'm going to try as hard as I can to take whatever you can give me. And if that means being friends, then fine."
Castiel stopped breathing "You want us to be friends?"
"There's nothing else we can be," Dean shrugged, legs spread apart and avoiding eye contact. "I guess this is what they call a compromise."
Castiel, however, was still suffocating. "I never meant the things I said to you the last time we met. You're not reckless or unlikable. I regretted what I said the second those words were out in the open and if I could take all of it back…"
"What would you say to me now then?" Dean tipped his head and studied the ground.
Swallowing hard and trying to push through the haze of emotions inside his mind, Castiel willed himself to remain calm. "The things we have in common make you immensely worthy of knowing. Everything else is just complicated."
"What does that even mean, Cas?" Dean's voice was hoarser when their eyes finally met and his gaze was pleading for the truth.
"It means…that I don't know what to think or feel. And sharing your sentiments, I'm afraid that I will say the wrong things. And then I will make things worse between us."
"Cas…"
"No, Dean, you don't understand. I don't think you ever could. You're so certain of what you want and you're brave enough to express your intentions," Castiel's tone remained softer although he was collapsing inside. "Those are qualities I absolutely admire in you in more ways than you will ever know. But—"
"I really don't want to talk about it right now. It's making my headache worst. I get these terribly headaches when I'm strung out. It happens." Dean suddenly stood up and his movements were deeply affected by how weakened he had become by their conversation.
"You're leaving me?" Castiel couldn't feel his heart anymore. It had probably died from the word 'friends' and then afterwards, from the thought of their conversation being the result of a headache. "I wasn't finished."
"Come with me," Dean sniffed, and dabbed at the corner of his right eye with a knuckle. He couldn't hide his tears and the sight of his weakened composure wounded Castiel so much. "I want to show you my car."
It took a while for him to rise up from the bench though.
He didn't know what had just happened that caused him to become such an undeserving person to Dean… that he was slow to fall into pace with the Prince. And as the two of them walked down the path they had trodden, something else squeezed Castiel's heart.
If he became Dean's friend, then the wedding would be successful. Annalise would evidently become Dean's wife and just the thought of that made him nauseous. Just the thought of not having Dean's eyes follow him, or never being able to share any more conversations with him about the things they had in common.
He had to go back home soon. And when Castiel thought about leaving England, all of a sudden, he stopped because he couldn't understand how love could come on like the flu so suddenly and then wash him over with symptoms so fast. With the lightness in his head, the dizzying feeling, the fast patter of his heart, the weakened knees and absolute desire to be near to Dean.
When they sat in close proximity, Dean was capable of awakening feelings inside of him that were never experience before. Feelings that were new and frightful, of course, but deserving of attention because of the honesty and rawness of discovering a new sense of love.
It had to be love, right?
"You coming or what?" those green eyes turned to blink at him, pleading perhaps for the clarity that was lacking.
Four feet between them became less than twelve inches and when Dean lightly took a hold of his right shoulder, Castiel sighed. And when he did, Dean's immediate response was to remove his touch like a burst of electricity had been transmitted between them.
"You okay? You look pasty. Do you want to sit down?"
"No," shake your head and appear composed. Come on. Get your shit together. You're too old for this. For feeling like a teenager in love. "I'm…fine," Castiel's voice deceived him though, with its gravelly nature that tended to suggest that he was deeply affected by some kind of emotion.
"Sure you don't want something to drink?"
How could he suddenly act so normal?
Castiel was staring at Dean and he couldn't understand why the other man was so certain of himself. That he easily reached out and touched him without showing any kind of emotion or restraint and then, Dean pulled back like he was diseased.
"I don't. Where's the car?"
"It's over there. Not too far. I've got to warn you though, I get very worked up when it comes to my car. She's my most prized possession." Dean's sudden enthusiasm was painful on Castiel, that he followed without uttering another word. "There she is!"
The mood could have probably explained a lot to Castiel after he discovered how Dean adored the Impala. The sleek car that was black and beautiful. Her engine roared to life as the Prince shot him a wide smile. And in that moment, Castiel understood what was happening.
Dean was forcefully latching himself onto a distraction, so that he wouldn't have to fall prey to his feelings. He said he didn't want to talk about it. It being what was going on between them. But all of a sudden, it was all Castiel wanted to talk about.
He wanted Dean to explain to him why he was so special and why he had fallen in love with someone as dorky and nerdy and simple as him.
What did he see when they met each other in the washroom at the hotel? Did he see a man that he was just attracted to and sexually desired?
Or did he really realize how Castiel was an enigma, and complicated and worn from years of distress? Years of being alone and faking his contentment because after finding this new fleeting feeling, Castiel never wanted to go back home.
He wanted to stay, to know that Dean was a stone's throw away somewhere in London that he could absolutely run into him at an event. Or they could remain as they were in that moment; standing desirably close to each other and breathless.
But he couldn't stay, could he? He had to go back home to his apartment that was leased for a year. His job where he earned a steady income. His cat. The many bottles of wine in his cellar and normalcy because anything else was chaotic.
Dean asked him with a wide smile to hop into the car. Then he leaned over and pulled a rolled-up copy of The Daily Mirror from in front of Castiel on the dashboard. And his scent was so soothing and comforting and awakened parts of Castiel that hadn't felt so warm in many years, if ever.
"Now, I've got a wild idea," Dean said as they pulled out of the Palace grounds. "And I know you'll like it. But I'm going to ask because I don't want to freak you out or anything." He turned the wheel smoothly as the gravel crunched under the car. "Remember I told you that I constructed my castle in the likes of Mister Darcy's home from the movie?"
"Chatsworth House," Castiel nodded, squinting his eyes at the scene before them as London opened into streets littered with people. Two security detail followed close behind, dressed in heavy black gear.
"Would you like me to take you there?"
"Right now?" Castiel turned to consider the other man's handsome face as he grinned.
"Do you have anything better to do?"
I just want to be with you. "No."
"So?" Dean's car gained a lot of attention as did the two bikers following them. And as people stopped to consider the Prince passing by, a few of them even waved.
"Take me there," Castiel held his breath, leaned back and hugged himself. And also trying to shield his face from the prodding eyes because he hated to be in the spotlight.
They drove in silence for almost fifteen minutes.
Castiel marked the time because between the seconds were filled with wisps of tension between them. Little wisps that snaked around his body and threatened to drive him crazy from knowing that the actuality of drowning was entirely too pleasing. Especially when he was drowning in his deliberate attraction towards the other man.
Just as the afternoon was fading a little more, the car nosed its way down a narrow road that gradually opened out on both sides by expansive lawns. Lawns that were lush and green and beautiful. Then after the large wrought iron gates slid open, Castiel suddenly sat up and couldn't believe his eyes.
He was so astonished, he gasped from being struck by the beauty of the castle in the distance. It was almost a replica of Chatsworth House but Dean had added four towers that gave the stone structure a shape of a crown. And the fountain was most of all spectacular as the car rounded the expanse of water and Castiel admired the two unicorn shaped stone sculptures.
"The national animal of Scotland," the Prince said proudly as he read the other man's mind. "I've always loved unicorns."
"I'm more wildly fascinated by rabbits, cats and guinea pigs."
"Well, you're just in luck. I have roughly fourteen rabbits and four cats."
Blue eyes turned to stare at the Prince in awe. "Do you really?"
"Yup," Dean smiled when the car pulled up near the entrance. "Remember I told you that I like cats?" he killed the engine and smiled at the other man. "Wait till you meet Nemo, Olaf, Elsa and Jasmine. And don't judge the names." He pointed at Castiel above the car as they got out.
"I'm not going to, it's just…"
Dean waited, admiring the other man's profile as the setting sun touched his hair. "What?"
Castiel exhaled. "It's so much to digest." His gaze swept the lawns, and then the house in all its glory. "Do you really live here, Dean? I can't believe you're actually a…"
"Prince?" That wide grin that was so damn attractive as he folded his arms on the Impala's roof. "I hate my title and what's expected of me. But goddamn it, Cas. I love this…my house. My library. Even the bloody unicorns. And the best part is that I can get to show it to someone who understands the meaning behind it all."
They stood there in silence afterwards as the lanterns flickered on. Electric lanterns that highlighted the roof and inside the windows. Then as the night settled in, the entire lawn was illuminated by floodlights that spotlighted the castle and made it appear even more fairytale-like.
Castiel was ecstatic when they eventually climbed the steps up to the entrance. He smelled fresh flowers and admired the pot marigolds in the window beds. The feel of the cool stone of the bannister leading up to the door. The way Dean kept glancing back at him with that damn sparkle in his eyes.
And then when they finally stepped into the castle, the sight took Castiel's breath away because if it was even remotely possible, Dean's home was more beautiful than Westfordshire Palace. With black and white checkered floors and black wall sconces that were lighted. The four majestic chandeliers tipped with teardrop crystals. And the paintings on the ceiling.
"Ian Waters," Dean followed Castiel's gaze, both their heads upturned. "I found him in Ireland five years ago. Brought him here to do all the ones on the walls and the ceilings."
"The intimacy in the details." Castiel studied every single realistic contour of a man's body on the ceiling, naked and flourishing in a field of roses. "Was he your…lover?" The painter?" Then after realizing how bold the questions were, he felt embarrassed. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be so intrusive."
"No, it's okay." Their eyes met and Dean blinked slowly. "Honestly, for him it was more. For me it wasn't there."
The brush strokes, finest details of a chaotic scene of a group of young men, draped in sheets in the dark, trying to reach for a door that welcomed a beautiful sunshine afternoon.
"If you're asking me if I slept with him, I did." Dean was exactly like his mother had promised; a firm believer of the truth. "I've slept with men and women, Cas. But I was only in love with one."
Castiel studied the shape of the other man's chiseled jaw as they ascended the grand staircase covered in carpeting the color of blood.
"Lisa," he said simply. "High school sweethearts."
"You mean the one year I tried out secondary school. It was so long ago though. We were sixteen and smitten," Dean's fingers played on the white railing as he went upwards before Cas. "She's been married for five years now and has a son. We haven't spoken in years."
"Forgive me if it seems like I'm prying."
"You're not," Dean said softly as they reached the top of the stairs and faced another work of art. This time, it was a beautiful sunrise between mountains. "Ian didn't do this one. I bought it from a street artist in Rome. He didn't want money for it although I begged."
"You have that effect on people," Castiel said with so much warmth inside his chest. He was trailing after a man who was driving him crazy. And yet, his mind warned him to slow down, to stay behind and pace himself. "After all," he found himself saying, "you're the People's Prince."
"You don't feel like that when you're buried inside a pit of blackness, Cas," Dean turned to him and walked backwards as they entered another room. His eyes were darker. "When you feel like you're going to suffocate and die by yourself from a storm that never stops."
"I know a bit of how it feels, Dean. Believe me, I do."
"I can see the cracks inside of you. I guess that's why I'm drawn to you so much." Dean led them through a hallway that was lit by sconces in gold brackets on walls covered in red velvet. "But there are things about me that you don't know along with the rest of the world."
"Tell me about them then," Castiel said as they fell into step again. And when their arms brushed, he felt the warmth on Dean's skin and his chest heaved.
"It's not that easy. It takes time. This way."
Dean pushed open brown oak doors with black iron handles and entered a room that was at first, dimly lit. But then after flipping a few switches, lamps on desks illuminated the interior and the first thing Castiel laid his eyes on was a grand piano made from solid cherry in the center of the room.
The rush of cool wind came into the large windows. The heavy red curtains fluttered. And as Dean danced his fingers across the keys, he created an eerie but beautiful ambience that captivated his guest instantly, not that he wasn't already bewitched.
But as the Prince tried out a tune, frowned then lowered himself onto a stool in front of the piano, the other man approached in awe.
At first, Castiel was simply amazed by the delicate caress of Dean's fingers on the notes, possibly imagining those same fingers caressing any part of him. And then when Dean started to play a song that sounded awfully familiar, Castiel became breathless.
It was Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish.
And whilst he played it, their eyes met and kept meeting after every line and eventually, Castiel was in raptures over Dean's skill; how he could play without a sheet because he was gifted in music and could feel the notes and hear the words and between every note.
So much of Dean's heart emptied out through his gaze, bleeding between the seconds and minutes.
It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done; to serenade him with a song.
The gesture brought tears to Castiel's eyes; tears that felt so warm as his heart felt elated, his mind relaxed and those fleeting thoughts were silenced as there was no room for doubt but only space for one person. And that one person was looking at him like he meant the world.
Like he mattered.
When Dean smiled during the chorus, Castiel chuckled, eyes wet and he held on delicately to the piano, leaning in and knowing that this was what love had to feel like for certain. That light feeling and then that crazy, lightning bolt that streaked across his chest. The butterflies and the warmth like sinking his toes into sand, like waiting for the tide to come in as his nerves were on fire.
He wanted him. Dear God, he did.
Castiel wanted Dean so much, in more ways than just physical and sexual.
He was drawn to him on a level that peeled back his levels and entwined their souls. The kind of attraction that was surreal and dangerous and reminiscent of moonlight nights and bottles of wine. Of gazing into the depths of green and drowning in them.
After a while when he was certain that he was too weak and too exposed, he went towards the window and his fingers lightly touched the blinds. Then as the sound of the piano died down, and the stillness of the night returned, Castiel tried so hard to find fascination and beauty in the fountain spurting up water from the tips of the unicorns' horns.
But he couldn't.
He felt Dean behind him, coming nearer and studying his silhouette, perhaps breathless, Castiel wasn't sure but what he sensed between them was powerful.
They were more than attracted to each other and he couldn't understand why it had taken him so long to know what the depth of love encompassed. What the words in his novels lacked in substance was now being experienced.
"Cas…" Dean croaked.
The skin on his left arm was covered in little dots of electricity that raced through his body because he could always feel Dean first. He remembered during the Ball when they were in close proximity, he sensed Dean nearby before seeking out his location. And Castiel stopped breathing when he suddenly felt Dean's palm on his lower back, just resting there reassuringly as if he was trying to steady him.
Castiel was unsteady, had been his entire life without realizing it until he had collided with Dean. And he was so certain that when Dean touched him, the world felt more vibrant and surreal.
The heat escaping through Dean's pores was sensational and it dizzied Castiel's head when the Prince turned him just a little. But enough so that they were looking into each other's eyes. And Castiel remembered gazing into those eyes and becoming amazed by the swirls of different emerald shades, by the way Dean's thick eyelashes fluttered and his hair.
His hair lightly fell onto his forehead and he lightly touched those soft strands. Castiel couldn't help himself when he lightly caressed the tumble of tendrils swept to the right of Dean's perfect brow, giving him that playful boyish look and yet, he was entirely handsome still, as a young man who was evidently certain of what he wanted.
And then there was no escape.
Dean inched closer and as he did, Castiel didn't retreat. He stayed where he was, drowning and his mind started screaming. And even though he wanted so badly to allow it, to oh so much drown in the first instance of a kiss, Castiel turned his head away.
"Dean, we shouldn't," he said softly, still leaning into the other man's warmth and pressing their cheeks together.
"Don't…think…" Dean's breath kissed his face as he wrapped an arm softly around Castiel and slowly brought their bodies together for the first time. "Just…feel me." He tenderly hugged him, burying his face into Castiel's left shoulder and drowning in the moment.
And Castiel really did feel him.
Every inch that was honestly enough to drive him crazy was so intoxicating because Dean's body was on fire and his heart was racing.
The hug was comforting and yet electric and then Castiel realized the magnitude of how much Dean was sexually drawn to him. And when he felt how hard the other man was in his pants, how on fire he was, Castiel stiffened in his grasp.
"I can't," he said in a voice that was not his own.
The military. King John's wrath. He knew well enough that the Queen's words wouldn't suffice enough to save her son. And Dean would be scarred if they even ended up together; they would be pulled apart as quickly as their first meeting and falling for each other.
But Dean didn't seem to understand the harsh reality that awakened Castiel's mind because he held him tenderly still and just after their eyes locked an intense gaze, the Prince pressed a chaste kiss onto the other man's forehead.
"If you could see yourself in my eyes," he said, his lips moving against Castiel's brow. "You would understand why I'm in love with you. Why I keep falling and I can't stop myself."
Castiel's eyes were closed. And Dean was so goddamn hot and hard between his legs and he could feel himself following suit. But it was becoming too painful because of the many years behind him that lacked this kind of intimacy that he craved for but couldn't have.
"I can't do this. Dean."
He managed just to separate them, even though the feeling of distance was suddenly excruciating and Castiel felt terrible and confused all of a sudden because what he wanted was standing right in front of him.
Dean really looked like he wanted all the things Castiel desired. Like he would be as gentle and patient and kind. Like he knew what he wanted and how he wanted it.
But Castiel couldn't will his mind to soften up to everything so easily. And because he was suddenly seeing clearer through the thick haze of desire, he realized that they were going too fast and if he didn't stop them, then they would crash.
"We shouldn't do this," he said in a voice that was too gravelly. And his hands were shaking. "We need to…stop."
But Dean was falling apart in front of Castiel.
It was the worst sight of all to watch those green eyes lose their sparkle. The Prince, his composure weakening already so much was completely wounded. And it wasn't a beautiful sight, it was tragic to realize that his words could disarm someone
"Is something wrong with me?" Dean plucked the question from the swirling ones in his mind and asked it whilst he was on the precipice.
"What?" Castiel frowned, after stepping back and instantly remembered Mary's words. The low self-esteem. The headaches. The depression. "Of course, nothing is wrong with you. Nothing at all."
But Dean shook his head and remained where he was and there wasn't anger behind his eyes. There were tears, soft tears and he could feel the fall happening but he didn't want it to happen now. Not like this.
"It's me, isn't it? It's my age. I'm too young for you."
"Dean, no," Castiel felt terrible and he wanted to leave, to run, but he couldn't. "You're…not too young. You're amazing and…you're intriguing and beautiful."
"But…" Dean lowered his eyes and bit his lips.
"If you think about this, we can't possibly entertain the idea."
"Because you're not gay."
Castiel inhaled deeply. "Even if I am not and I'm attracted to you…" when he said that, those green eyes latched onto him with so much hope, his heart cried. "There's no way we can be together. First of all, the monarchy would crack from the weight of the disapproval from the people who love you. The people who have grown to respect you. Can you imagine what they would say if you end up with a nerdy American reporter such as myself that has no money, is a divorcee and on top of it all –"
"Just stop," Dean said suddenly, there was a chill in the air. He felt the weight on his chest grow heavier. He was falling and fast. And was just moments ago so elated, so excited and happy, so hopeful. But now, he felt like someone had flipped off a switch in his damn head.
Green eyes turned flat. The two of them were staring at each other as opposed to not so long ago when they couldn't stop drowning in each other's gaze.
"All my life, I have been anything but normal," Dean said. "You know that. You know about my past and what happened to me. Dammit, Cas. I lived through it and so did the entire world because they've always known that I'm the only member of the Royal family that actually gives a shit about showing who he really is –"
"Dean—"
"I've had lovers. Men. When I was with Ian, do you know what they did? They knew me so damn well and who he was to me that they posted a photo of us in the newspaper and captioned it The Prince and the Painter. Why? Because my sexuality doesn't matter to them."
The passion in Dean's disposition was enough to keep Castiel silent. "I really feel something between us, Cas." Dean stopped, his chest shuddered and he squeezed the tears out of his eyes. "But it's clear that you're trying hard because my mother asked you to. And I don't need you to do that."
"Dean," Castiel was choking on his emotions. "That's not why I came here with you. I came here because I wanted to, even before your mother spoke with me, I've wanted to see you. To get to know you."
"Because you're writing an article about me and my wedding," Dean said stiffly, his tone icy. "That's all I am to you, an article. I was right, wasn't I? You're just like the rest of them. All you care about is getting your story. You're using me."
"I'm not!" Castiel said heatedly because he was stunned. "You claim you hold me in high esteem but do you honestly believe that I'm using you? How is that fair?"
"Just…go," Dean said, turning away with his eyes lowered. The silence between them was so damaging. And the Prince's profile was so stiff and tense. "There's a car waiting for you downstairs."
"So, you're going to just make me walk away," Castiel said through tears, "like I mean nothing. Like I'm not worth it anymore to you."
"I can't do this too. I can't chase after someone who doesn't even know who he truly is," Dean said with his back still to the other man. He balled his fists. It was a gesture that wasn't unchecked by Castiel. "When you figure that out, then I'll be here."
"I know what I want. But I'm not to be blamed for what you started by leading me on in the first place. You can't expect me to change my entire self in one week just to give you everything I've worked so damn hard to survive with."
"Well then I'm sorry for leading you on," Dean said bitterly. "And I'm sorry for causing you discomfort." He wanted to stop saying those things, those hurtful things but he couldn't.
"Dean, if you could just…stop being so immature right now and see reason," Castiel's voice was trembling as the two of them looked at each other. "I'm asking you to be patient with me. I'm asking that you let me get to know you."
"And if I give you time, can you honestly guarantee me that you will not break my heart?"
The two of them stared at each other for a long time and in that time, Castiel couldn't even formulate an honest reply because Dean's question drenched him in cold sweat. Facing the truth was like standing in the middle of a highway in the path of a roaring lumber truck, knowing that he was just going to get smashed to pieces.
"I'm leaving in less than a month," he finally found himself saying robotically whilst Dean stared at him. "I have a life in another country. You know this. A job. I've built my life from the ground up and I don't intend to leave it all behind so suddenly. I need time. This is all happening so…fast. And I can't just take a leap without at least thinking this through—"
"I wish I never met you." Dean's face was pasty, his fists balled as he fought the tears. "You've ruined me."
No. Possibly, it was the worst pain Castiel had ever experienced in his life; the actuality of literally feeling for the first time, his heart contained in a grasp that was squeezing and killing him. His emotions bled into the space between them in bold colors.
"Wow," Castiel scoffed, stepped back and he literally felt as if his knees would give out on him. "You're unbelievable. I've ruined you? What about what you've done to me?"
His face contorted from the wave of emotions coursing through his body, from dying inside.
How could someone lift him up and then drop him down so fast? How could someone give up on him just when he thought that he meant something. That he was even thinking like this made Castiel realize how naïve he had been in the first place.
"I'm glad I met you, Dean," he said hoarsely, although it took every ounce of strength to speak. "You've proven to me that love is indeed the most painful feeling of all. At least I'm the adult here. I'm not willing to fly away with wild dreams. I'm thinking rationally for the both of us. Why must I give up my life to be with you when you can't even acknowledge the discomfort you would cause me if I did? This is why I've been hesitant from the beginning. It's because I didn't want you to dig yourself deeper. I didn't want that kind of tragedy for the both of us. And now you're talking to me as if I don't care about you. I care about you. Immensely."
When Dean didn't reply, Castiel stood there and wondered why the other man had suddenly turned his back on him. Maybe he was the problem. Maybe he was thinking inside the box as always instead of reaching out and holding onto the stars.
"Can you look at me?" Castiel asked after some time had passed. "Say something to me at least. I don't want to remember your last words as wishing that you never met me."
But there were no other words. Nothing at all but the silence and the pain and Dean's refusal to turn around and look at him.
"Very well," Castiel finally said after there was a bitter taste in his mouth. "We've just lived through our own Jane Austen novel. And I hope that it's not the end because I don't want to leave you. I don't want our story to end tragically like this. But if you refuse to understand me, to understand that I'm doing this because you're special to me, then there's nothing further for me to do. Good bye."
Dean was so cold.
He was shaking and he was stunned. When he heard the doors open and close with a loud bang, he sunk onto the floor. And he stayed there for a long time whilst the tears anguished him and his migraine grew more severe. And he felt like he was about to die because he had done the most hurtful thing ever. He had said the most hurtful things.
And he wished that he could take it all back.
But he couldn't because Castiel was gone.