"Hello, the smithy!"
Even after ten years, that voice still caused a visceral reaction to Dean's body and soul. It evoked comfort and sensuality, command and cajole. He'd never tire of hearing it, whether it was hailing him loudly from outside the faire stall or whispering tender words while wrapped in each other's arms in bed. He smiled, handed the hose to Jack, and stood from behind the forge.
"We don't open 'til tomorrow, even for you sword jocks," Dean said with a grin.
Castiel chuckled as he came up to the outdoor part of the smithy. Jack dusted his hands on his brown utilikilt, came around, and gave his father a hug. Castiel returned the hug, carding the thin braids of his son's hair through a hand, and once again noted that he could no longer kiss the top of Jack's head, as the teenager had recently gone through a growth spurt.
"I'm just coming by to remind you of today's ceremony," Castiel said after kissing his husband on the cheek.
"I remember, elskan," Dean replied. "I checked and double checked before we left Lexington. What has you so antsy?"
Castiel smiled and tilted his head. "I guess I'm just nervous. This will be Claire's first performance in jousting and melee, and," Castiel shrugged and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, "this is the culmination of ten years of hard work by the kids, like a graduation. It is a graduation. And it also reflects on me as a teacher. So I'm nervous."
Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, touching his forehead to Castiel's. "You've been doing a fantastic job. You created an excellent team to work with the squads, and they'll put on an awesome show. You need to trust in yourself, ástin mín*, and you need to trust in Claire and the other kids in her squad. And second squad has been performing at the rings for a year already, so there shouldn't be any hitches with them."
Castiel allowed his proximity to Dean to center him and he nodded against Dean's forehead. "You're right, I shouldn't be expecting things to go wrong."
"Jack and I will see you at 5 in the Horde's encampment, and we'll have the coifs polished and ready for the Nephilim, okay?" Dean assured Castiel as the two men stepped apart. Castiel nodded again and headed out. Dean grabbed Jack in a headlock and dragged him into the smithy. "Let's go, lærlingur, now Pops has me doubting. Let's check the coifs and we'll finish setting up the forge tomorrow morning."
The two stood side by side as they looked over the eight shining coifs. Dean watched as his stepson looked over the chainmail and smiled softly. Two years into the afterschool program for his age group, Jack decided that while he enjoyed horseback riding, the more martial aspect of his family's business held no interest to him. So he wandered over to the smithy and never left. Now, at just turned 14 years old, it was his first summer working in the faire smithy with Dean and Jesse, and he'd embraced the Viking persona wholeheartedly, from the shaved head with braids to match Dean, to fake rune tattoos along his arms that could be seen when he wore just a vest and breeches. For now, he was wearing a utilikilt and t-shirt like Dean. The two placed the coifs back in the bin after inspection, and headed to the campsite.
Dean climbed into the RV with a weary sigh and set the empty bowls into the sink. Castiel followed after and carefully set the bag with empty bottles for recycling on the floor near the door.
"I'm getting too old for this shit," Dean complained, looking at his phone to check the time.
The coif ceremony had been a success and Castiel had been riding that high for the rest of the day. Claire and her squadmates, officially named the Nephilim Squad, had treated the occasion with the seriousness it deserved. In the meantime, the faire's Friday night kick-off party was still going strong somewhere, although the bonfires weren't burning as brightly any more. Dean and Castiel had played chaperones to the group of 18 year olds in Castiel's charge, giving them their own bonfire, but without the booze and pot. Neither man was naive enough to think none of the kids would sneak out to the main party, but there was an expressed understanding that if anyone missed the 6:30 wake up and breakfast, and/or had any appearance of being hungover, they would be fired from the Horde and sent home immediately.
Castiel grinned and fell onto the RV's couch. He looked around and ran a hand along the leather seat. "Sometimes I miss that RV you had when we first met."
Dean snorted and shook his head. "Gods, I don't! I couldn't wait to upgrade to something that has a bigger bathroom. And a dishwasher!"
Dean closed the door to the small dishwasher with a flourish, turned it on, and turned around to face Castiel. He walked up to Castiel and straddled his lap. Dean cupped Castiel's face in his hands and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. Castiel ran his hands along Dean's back, feeling the muscles that decades of swinging a blacksmith's hammer had created.
"Your penchant for making me wash the dishes before you'd take me to bed," Dean said as he pulled his t-shirt off and let it drop to the floor, "or fucking me while I did the dishes -"
"Tried," Castiel interrupted. He placed light kisses along Dean's collarbone, and flicked a nipple with his tongue.
"Hmm?" Dean asked, now completely distracted.
"Tried to do the dishes," Castiel clarified. "I don't think you ever actually made it through getting everything washed."
Dean's eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back, braids brushing against his bare skin and enjoying feeling Castiel's lips, tongue, and teeth against his chest and abdomen. He ground his crotch against Castiel's lap and bit back a moan, his train of thought now completely derailed. "Gods and goddesses, what you do to me, engill."
"Bed," Castiel growled.
Dean didn't need to be told twice, he slid off Castiel, snagged his t-shirt, and headed for the bedroom. Castiel locked the RV door, shut the lights off in the salon, and followed after his husband. Castiel stood framed by the doorway while he watched Dean strip and yank the cover to the side before sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Why does it look like you're planning something, engill?"
"I'm deciding how slowly I want to take you apart, bien-aimé," Castiel replied, stepping into the bedroom.
"I don't get a say in things?" Dean asked, looking up as Castiel stepped into his space. Dean hooked fingers through the loops of Castiel's jeans before unbuttoning the top button. He kissed Castiel's trim stomach, lips and tongue trailing along the pronounced vee of Castiel's hip. Castiel slid his hand along the braids falling halfway down Dean's back, before looping the length of hair around his hand.
"You know I'd never deny you," Castiel assured Dean, who began to slowly pull the zipper to Castiel's jeans down.
"I know, Cas, the illusion is enough for me. And I always enjoy myself, even when I'm begging in frustration. Maybe especially then."
Dean pulled Castiel's jeans down, leaned forward, and mouthed Castiel's cock through the fabric of his underwear.
"Dean…" Castiel groaned and leaned into his husband's touch. "Your mouth is sinful."
"Forgive me, Father," Dean said looking up at Castiel with a smirk.
"Well, that's heading towards a boner-killer."
"I'm sorry, Daddy, I've been a bad boy?" Dean amended.
"Ugh, no," Castiel said with a scowl, stepping back. "That's even worse. Both the intended humor and the title. Get on all fours, Dean."
Dean turned to follow the directions and he heard the susurration of fabric sliding down skin. He closed his eyes and shivered when he felt a calloused hand palm the globe of one side of his ass and bit back a whimper when he felt soft lips surrounded by coarse hair glide over the back of his thigh. He felt Castiel's mouth move along his sensitive skin and moaned at the feel of a hot, wet tongue licking the underside of his balls and along his perineum.
Forty-five minutes later, still on all fours, arms and legs shaking and body coated in a fine sheen of sweat, Dean was doubting his life choices. After ten years, he knew better than to challenge Castiel in the bedroom. After ten years, he knew better than to exhibit a hint of brattiness to Castiel in the bedroom. Because after even ten years, he knew Castiel's fortitude and staying power in the bedroom were leagues above his own. But the payoff was always so worth it. When Castiel finally slid his cock into Dean's ass, his arms gave out and he just laid his head on his arms, rocking along with Castiel. He was so close - again - and after Castiel had stopped a dozen times or so, he wasn't expecting this time to be any different. But he felt a lubed hand close around his weeping, aching cock, right when Castiel hit his prostate, and it was all over for Dean. He rocked back against Castiel and ground his ass against Castiel, and came with a hoarse cry. Castiel thrust several more times into Dean before he had his own orgasm, and Dean collapsed onto the bed, completely drained.
Once the condoms were disposed of, cleanup was done, and the usual nighttime routine completed, the two men crawled into bed and were asleep within minutes of snuggling against each other.
Everyone met in the mess tent at 6:45 for breakfast. Castiel was already sitting at a table sipping coffee and enjoying overnight oats with fresh fruit, although he'd much rather have been back in the RV with the still sleeping Dean. Alfie and Duma had quietly reported that none of the teenagers had snuck out overnight, which didn't surprise Castiel. The kids had put a lot of time and energy (not to mention mom and dad's money) into their training, and for the most part, were a good bunch of well-behaved kids. However, they were kids, who didn't always do the smartest thing. He was glad any worries he may have had were unfounded. At least for now.
The performers had a fairly laidback morning and then they retired to the costuming tents to get into Progress garb, and then over to the makeshift corrals where the horses were waiting. Castiel had decided to do away with the caparisons for the horses this year in favor of letting the beauty of the animals speak for themselves. This year was an overhaul of the faire show. Instead of Queen Elizabeth, it was going to be King Arthur. Castiel was playing King Arthur this year and would be riding Han Solo, despite their inauspicious start. Michael and Gabriel had retired from performing in faires but still did movies, and Lucien had retired from the business altogether. Riding on the king's immediate right and left would be Alfie on Skywalker and Oren on Princess Leia. And following behind them on their dappled or gray Percherons was the Nephilim Squad. Naomi had perfected a feminine but martial look for the women to ride Progress in over the years, and with the shining new coifs, there was no doubt who the Knights of the Round Table were.
At 10AM sharp, King's Progress was assembled at the front gates and Efram, who had taken over heralding duties from Balthazar, motioned for the drummers to begin. Bristol Faire had officially begun.
~ FIN ~
ástin mín - my love
Lærlingur - apprentice