A Breach Of Etiquette

”I’m so bored.”

Sam stifled a sigh and ignored his brother. They’d arrived barely an hour ago and it would’ve been considered extremely rude to leave so soon—especially when the Ball was just getting started for real. Besides, it had been Dean who had insisted on coming and now that they actually were there, they would enjoy themselves, dammit.

The Great Hall was elegantly decorated with bright ribbons and fabrics and color-coordinated to the point of, well, boring, like Dean would put it. It wasn’t a place they usually liked to hang out in but all in all, it was quite nice, Sam decided. It wasn’t like they’d get the chance to attend that many balls like this, being from the outskirts of the realm or, in other words, several days of flying distance from the Capitol. Besides, the family business of hunting rogue sprites kept them busy pretty much all the time. It was by pure luck they’d managed to get Garth, Ash, and Jo to cover for them for the duration of their journey.

”Soo boored,” Dean groaned. ”Sammy, can we go now?”

”Stop whining, Dean,” Sam flicked his wings in annoyance. ”You wanted to come, so here we are.”

”But I thought it would be more fun!” Dean’s voice was petulant and his wings drooped in a dramatic slump that was completely fake.

Sam rolled his eyes. ”Honestly, what did you think this would be? I tried to tell you that you’d probably hate it here, but you said you wanted to come. This is the New Season’s Ball, it’s all about socializing, gossiping, networking, and checking out the prospect of possible mates. And I really can’t—” He stopped at the look that flickered over his brother’s face. It was gone in an instant, but Sam knew what he had seen.

”Dean,” he said slowly, ”are we here to search for a mate for you?”

”No!” Dean snorted and looked away, his wings flaring with indignation.

Sam studied him carefully for a moment. Dean was a master of deception and covering his feelings but Sam had lived with him for his whole life. He knew Dean better than anyone—better than Dean knew himself, in fact. His brother was already beyond the proper mating age and, in some social circles, considered as a lost cause and a spinster doomed to live alone. Sam knew that the situation was mostly of Dean’s own choosing. His brother was a submissive in name only, and everything else in him screamed of insubordination. 

Dean was often mistaken as the Dominant one, what with his attitude and deep emerald wings compared to Sam’s cloudy steel grey. It wasn’t a surprise itself; Dean had been taking care of both the family business and Sam from an early age after their parents died and living on the literal Edge left very little room for what was considered proper submissive behavior. After nearly two decades of conditioning, it seemed that Dean was a Dominant through and through.

If it weren’t for the mating seasons, he probably would’ve pulled it off and lived happily ever after.

No matter how hard Dean wanted, the mating season was the only thing about his gender he couldn’t escape. Once a year he went into heat and no amount of Dominant posturing could make it go away. Since he wasn’t mated, he had to endure his heats alone and, over time, they’d grown more and more taxing to his system. The burden of the submissive gender was that Dean actually needed a Dominant in order to stay functional.

Which obviously had led them here, at the New Season’s Ball. 

Sam pressed his lips together in a thin line and let out a slow breath through his nose. Finding a mate in the most famous (and, therefore, most traditional) Ball filled with conservative and class-conscious angels was tricky in the first place and for Dean, it would we even more challenging. 

Dean was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, and there was nothing gentle, submissive, or delicate in his posture—the attributes commonly considered attractive in a submissive. His eyes scanned the crowd with the practiced ease of the hunter he was and he leaned on the doorframe in a mock-relaxed way, ready to leap into action if needed. Brother or not, Sam had no problem admitting his brother was a thing of lethal beauty but perhaps his perspective was slightly skewered. Sadly, the unmated Dominants in the Ball didn’t share his opinion. He could see the scornful looks thrown in Dean’s direction and he caught at least three muttered comments about the insubordinate submissive who didn’t know his proper place. Even though Dean’s posture didn’t change, Sam saw the slight tremor of his wings, betraying that Dean had heard the comments as well.

”I’ll go get some more punch,” Sam offered quietly and wandered off to the buffet table.

From afar, Dean’s plight was even more obvious: it was like he was inside a bubble, subtly but pointedly ignored. Suddenly Sam felt sick. Fuck etiquette, fuck these stiff-upper-lip angels, they should just leave. He grabbed two glasses of punch and shouldered his way back to his brother. 

Dean deserved better than anything this ”ball” had to offer anyway.

Yeah. Fuck this ball. Fuck these stuffy angels, fuck this Capitol, fuck his gender, fuck everything. What the Hell had he been thinking, coming here to search of a mate? Seriously? 

Dean could feel the contempt pouring off of the other angels, their judgmental frowns, sneering faces, and flicks of their wings telling him exactly how welcome he was. 

Well, fuck them.

He squared his shoulders and shook his wings, flashing a bit more underwing than strictly proper just to spite their delicate asses.

Oh, Dean knew what he was. He was a too-old submissive that hadn’t been able to find a mate. That, in itself, was dubious but paired with his physique and attitude, he was pretty much destined to be alone. He couldn’t help his frame or height, the color or span of his wings, and he sure as Hell wouldn’t change his attitude. Simpering submission could get you killed in the Edge, and Dean kinda liked to be alive, thank you very much.

It sucked rocks to be a submissive angel. Not only was he expected to be delicate and demure, but he was also expected to be meek and let his Dominant take care of him. Given the fact that Dean had been both taking care of himself and Sam ever since their parents had been killed in a fight almost a Millennia ago and keeping the Edge secure at the same time, he didn't exactly fall into the category of an ’ideal submissive.’

Okay, sure. He could admit that sometimes he wondered. What would it be like to give up the control, to trust and let go? To welcome his heat in the security his Dominant’s Grace provided and just allow his instincts roam free and unbound, to trust—

And yeah. That was the problem: he was yet to meet someone who was up to the task. Every single Dominant he had come across in his life, including Sam, had yielded to him, never even coming close to dominating him properly. It was frustrating but also disheartening because if he didn’t find his Dominant soon, his life would get significantly harder with every upcoming heat. Unmated submissives tended to wither and die due to the strain their rampant Grace put their body under and for a strong submissive like Dean that meant serious trouble.

Sam had guessed what this all was about, but Dean had sort of resigned to it. Sam was his brother and after living their whole lives in each other’s pockets, they knew each other pretty well. It was okay that Sam knew Dean was desperate but the pity that had flashed in his eyes  wasn’t. Dean could handle it from strangers, but not from his own brother.

Speaking of Sam, he’d wandered off to get more punch and left Dean alone. The other angels gave him a wide berth, their opinion clear in their actions. He huffed and adjusted his wings which earned him a disapproving glance from and elderly Dominant to his left. Why? Dean had no freakin’ clue. Perhaps proper submissives were allowed to shift their wings only twice a day? He gave the Dominant a wide grin and a two-finger salute, amused when her eyes widened in a scandalized shock before she turned sharply around. Unrepentant, Dean shrugged turned to look at the main doors, even though the view was about as interesting as watching a half-rotten log in the woods.

That changed when the door opened and admitted two angels. The shorter one sauntered in confidently, his golden-brown wings held up high. Dean snorted; it took one to know one and despite the cocky posture and confident looks, that one was a submissive. The one that followed, though…

Dean blinked and did a double-take.

The angel was taller and stockier but that was secondary because fuck that one was a Dominant to behold. Dean swallowed as he took in the power that rolled off of him, his midnight-blue wings framing the impressive scowl he was wearing. 

”Gabriel!” The Dominant growled, and shit…what a voice. It rumbled from the guy like thunder, his Grace crackling around him and making his wings sparkle like they held whole galaxies inside. It almost made Dean swoon like a fledgling which was a bit unfortunate, considering that the Dominant was obviously herding his mate. 

The good ones were always taken, Dean sighed morosely.

”Chill out, bro!” The other angel quipped from the buffet table, cheerily ignoring the whispers, turned heads, and the furious scowl of his… Bro?

They were brothers?

Dean’s wings perked up and he focused on the Dominant. Powerful, yes, both in body and Grace. That one could probably be more than a match for him. For the first time in a long, long time, Dean was definitely interested. Which, of course, was the perfect time for Sam to return and block the view with his massive frame.

”Move, gigantor!” he hissed.

Sam stopped with a frown and slowly took a step aside but it was already too late: the Dominant had vanished in the crowd. Dean huffed in frustration and started to look around, searching for the certain midnight blue from the swaying sea of all the colors of the rainbow but—

”We can leave if you want to,” Sam said softly, looking a bit pained.

”What?” Dean frowned absently, still scanning the crowd.

”I said—wait, are you looking for someone?”

Dean shrugged, not ready to admit anything.

”Dean…” Sam warned.

”Okay, okay. Yeah, I’m looking for someone,” he answered, a little impatiently.

”Who?”

”I—I don’t know, okay? I just saw him.”

”You just saw him,” Sam repeated slowly. ”Dean, are you sure—”

”Shut up, Sam,” Dean snapped. He couldn’t stand his brother’s pity, and he sure as Hell couldn’t stand his condescending attitude, either. Besides, ”There he is!”

Against his wishes, his wings fluttered softly and from the corner of his eye, he saw Sam’s eyes blow wide at the display. He bit back a wince because, yeah, okay, just because he chose not to act like a perfect little submissive angel didn’t mean he couldn’t. He just usually didn’t want to.

He nodded at himself. ”I’m gonna go and talk to him,” he announced, missing how Sam went pale as he realized who he’d been staring at, and started towards the Dominant. 

”No, Dean, wait!” Sam hissed urgently from behind him, but Dean happily ignored him because Sam was a spoil-sport anyway. He strode forward with a confidence he didn’t exactly feel, his wings quivering in the ambivalence of chosen dominance and the instinctive submission he felt. He made a beeline to the Dominant, impatiently waiting for him to finish talking to someone Dean didn’t bother concerning himself with. When he was finally done, Dean took the chance and jumped right in.

”Hi,” he said brightly and grinned. ”I’m Dean. Haven’t seen you around before.”

The Dominant ignored him.

Dean frowned. People didn’t usually ignore him but… oh, well. His mama hadn’t raised a quitter and he wasn’t going to give up so easily. ”So, what’s your name?”

Still no answer, although the deep blue wings shivered slightly which meant the Dominant was being rude on purpose.

”Hey, you could at least answer me,” he snapped.

That got a reaction. The Dominant turned to look at him with narrowed eyes and whoa, blue!  His intense gaze roamed over Dean’s frame before his eyes bored into him with power that would’ve cowered a lesser angel. ”I do not think we have been properly introduced,” the Dominant said tightly and then he turned and walked away, wigs stiff.

Dean… he wasn’t sure what had happened. He only realized he’d been staring after the other angel with his mouth open when he heard someone snicker. He blinked rapidly and glanced around, seeing to his eternal mortification that everyone was staring at him.

He’d been put to his place. Rejected. Publicly. In the fucking New Season’s Ball. And to add to his humiliation, he realized his wings had dropped low in an instinctive surrender. Blood high on his cheeks, he fled the Hall, the furious whispering tailing him.

After some rather unplanned power walking, he ended up on a balcony overlooking the Capitol. He usually enjoyed the lights and vibrant colors of the city but this time, they held no beauty. He gripped the railing and forced his breathing to even out. Why the Hell was he so worked up? The whispers and snickering were nothing he hadn’t dealt with before so why did they hurt now? Because he’d finally met someone worthwhile and ended up publicly humiliated as a reward? 

He seriously contemplated jumping on the railing and just flying off, never mind that was considered uncivilized. His chances of ever finding a mate in upper circles were pretty much shot anyway so jumping off from the balcony like a common crow wouldn’t really make a difference now, would it?

When the door behind him opened, his wings snapped wide in aggression, shielding both him and his feelings.

”I’m sor—” Sam started.

”Don’t,” he gritted through his teeth. ”Just, leave it.”

”But I am sorry, Dean, I tried to warn you but you didn’t listen. Look, Castiel is a strictly traditional Dominant and acts by the book in almost everything. If you’d asked, I would’ve introduced you—”

”Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it,” Dean muttered. 

Just his luck: the one time he found a potential Dominant, it blew up on his face. And all because of his own stupid impatience.

”Dean –”

”I need a drink,” he interrupted and stomped back inside.

He was a bit surprised he was even served but then again he was the jester of the night, wasn’t he? It was probably in the ball-goers best interests to let him get drunk and entertain them even more. The thought made the wine bitter in his mouth so he downed it and decided it was time to leave.

The corridor leading to the Hall was empty, all angels busy celebrating inside or on the more lavish balconies or hidden nooks. Dean walked briskly, wanting to be anywhere but there. Focused on his hurry to get the fuck out, he didn’t realize he’d been followed until a heavy hand gripped his left shoulder. He barely reined in his automatic response and whirled around and under the hand in one, fluid move instead of going on full defense, and ended up facing a strange Dominant. The guy was a bit older and out of shape, balding and soft, wearing a smarmy smirk.

”You can stop that glaring now and come kneel to me,” the Dominant said with a lazy flick of his wings.

Dean snorted. ”You? Really?”

The Dominant’s eyes went cold. ”Yes. It’s not like you have that many choices left, you made sure of that.”

”Me being publicly rejected doesn’t mean that I’d kneel to any dickwad who happens to walk by.”

Grace crackled around them and the Dominant furled his wings open. They were white but Dean could detect the telltale shimmer of wing powder. ”You will kneel to me!” The Dominant growled, face blotched red.

Dean bared his teeth. ”Make me,” he snarled.

It really wasn’t much of a fight. Despite his puffing and posturing, the Dominant was no match for Dean. He was sorely out of shape and clearly had no combat experience while Dean had been fighting for the majority of his life. It was ridiculously easy to dodge and block the hits the other angel tried to get through and even his feeble attempt of a Grace cage was a wispy thing Dean knocked down with a backhanded nudge of his own Grace. The only reason why the fight took even that long was that Dean vented out some of his frustration but eventually he got bored and slammed the Dominant on the floor, pinning his right hand behind his back and gripping his neck. Usually, it was where the submissive angel traditionally ended up in and now the Dominant was sputtering in outrage.

”Yield,” Dean said calmly, holding the other down with ease. When he got no reaction, he tightened his hold. ”I said, yield.”

”Fine, fine, I yield,” the Dominant spat, scrambling away from Dean as soon as he released his hold. ”You’ll never get a mate, you freak.”

”I’d rather be alone than mate someone like you,” Dean sneered, rolled his shoulders and shook his wings as he turned his back on the Dominant. It was a deliberate move that showed exactly how much respect he held for him. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turned around only to look right at the Dominant who’d humiliated him earlier. Castiel, Sam had called him. 

The intensity in his eyes was the same and again and Dean suppressed an involuntary shiver. ”Well, if it isn’t Mr. By-the-book. Came to gloat?” Dean quipped and then widened his eyes in a mock shock. ”Oh, but you can’t, we haven’t been properly introduced.” Somewhere in the back of his brain, a shrill voice asked what the Hell did he think he was doing but the humiliation was too fresh in his mind to care.

Something flickered in Castiel’s eyes. ”It was never my intention for anything like that to happen. My apologies. I would have—”

”Hey, jackass. Fuck off, will you? I don't need your pity,” Dean spat and turned to go. Turning his back on Castiel was wildly different from turning his back on the other Dominant only moments earlier and the shrill voice in his mind started screaming holy fuck you’re turning your back on the most powerful Dominant you’ve ever met, are you fucking insane!?

He heard a rustle behind him and then Castiel gripped his right shoulder and growled, ”I would like you showed some respect.”

The touch made an electric current soar through him and this time, Dean didn’t dance away. First, he was pissed as Hell and second, he already felt how powerful this challenger was. He whirled around and hit Castiel’s arm before releasing a Grace-enhanced roundhouse kick to the Dominant’s chest. With a surprised look, Castiel flew across the corridor and hit the wall with a satisfying grunt.

”Go to Hell,” Dean snarled. Oh, he knew he was in trouble and he braced himself, body coiled and ready, wings spread high.

Castiel walked calmly back and cocked his head. ”You are a fighter,” he commented like nothing had happened, only the stiff arch of his wings belying his temper.

”No shit, genius,” Dean countered. 

Castiel’s eyes flashed and Dean was pretty sure he heard a distant roll of thunder. ”And you are mouthy for a submissive.”

”Oh, but I’m so much more than that,” Dean said with a wolfish grin.

The slight narrowing of Castiel’s eyes was the only warning Dean got and then it was on.

In all honesty, it really wasn’t that much of a fight this time either. For the first time ever, Dean didn’t hold back at all. He used all the tricks he’d learned throughout the centuries, alternating with traditional style and the more…creative moves he’d picked up from a particularly tenacious sprite some while ago but it soon became clear that against Castiel, he stood no chance. In fact, it soon became rather obvious that Castiel was playing with him, merely blocking his hits and suppressing his Grace with his own. He never tried to land any hits of his own and it was fucking annoying.

”Stop playing games,” Dean grunted as Castiel calmly evaded yet another hit. ”You’re not even being serious!”

”And what makes you think that?” The fucker wasn’t even out of breath.

”You’re making fun of me. Just get it over with, beat me into submission. Isn’t that what a traditional Dominant does to an insubordinate submissive?”

In a blur of movement, Dean was on his stomach, Castiel’s hand gripping his neck and the other pinning his arm behind his back. ”I never wanted to force you into submission,” Castiel growled into his ear. ”I only expected some manners.”

”Fuck you!” Dean managed and struggled against Castiel’s hold.

”I think it goes the other way round,” the Dominant said mildly.

”Make me,” Dean hissed. Castiel’s Grace shimmered around him, caging and restricting him in a surprisingly gentle feel. It was incredibly powerful and trying to fight it was like trying to move a rock with a feather. Dean tried anyway.

Castiel sighed. ”I could ’make you’ do a lot of things, but I would rather you did it willingly.”

”Do what willingly?” Dean gritted through his teeth.

”Kneel to me.”

Dean froze for a second, then started to laugh. ”Are you fucking kidding me?” He wheezed in between gusts of laughter. ”First you humiliate me in front of everyone and then you just expect me to submit to you?” When he felt Castiel stiffen and his hold relaxed, Dean lashed out and managed to throw the Dominant off.

Castiel stood slowly. ”You approached me, remember,” he reminded with a frown. ”You defied all tradition and advanced on me in front of everyone, and if you ended up being ridiculed, that’s all on you. Had you made your interest known appropriately—”

”Oh, screw you and your self-righteous morals,” Dean exclaimed, suddenly furious. ”Just go back to the Hall and laugh it off, I’m sure you’ll find more than enough new friends who’d be more than eager to discuss my lack of manners with you.” He swirled around and started to the nearest exit, his whole frame vibrating with…what? Fury? So why were his eyes burning with unshed tears? No fucking way, he wouldn’t cry, not over some pompous ass of a Dominant.

”Stop!”

The power in Castiel’s voice was almost enough to freeze him to the spot but he gritted his teeth and flared his wings in an equivalent of flipping off and—

With a crackle of thunder and lightning, Dean was pressed flat against the wall, his wings held in place by Castiel’s Grace and Castiel’s hand gripping his neck in a bruising hold. Dean couldn’t hold back a shiver both because holy shit Castiel was powerful and holy shit Castiel was powerful and he was completely helpless.

”When I say stop, I expect to be obeyed,” the Dominant growled into his ear.

”And when I stop, it’s because I choose to, not because I’m forced to,” Dean managed. He’d been forced once and he’d rather go nuclear than let that happen again. So, because he had nothing to left to lose, he reached deep inside himself and tapped into the core of his Grace.

”Wait—” Castiel said urgently as the full force of Dean’s unleashed Grace sang through him. It burst through the seams of his body in a bright halo and expanded rapidly until the whole corridor was full of blinding light that burned everything it touched.

Well, almost everything.

Because when his Grace flickered and went out, Castiel’s exasperated face swam slowly into focus.

”You are reckless, disobedient and stubborn,” Castiel said, worried. ”You could’ve hurt yourself by unleashing your Grace like that.”

Dean swayed and would’ve slid on the floor if Castiel hadn’t reached out to hold him up. So, this was it then. Considering Castiel’s earlier comments and behavior, it really didn’t take a genius to figure out what the Dominant was after: rejecting a submissive in public but demanding kneeling in private didn’t bode anything good.

The only thing Dean couldn’t figure out was why the Hell Castiel wasn’t fried crisp by the blast of his Grace.

”—but it’s your decision.”

Huh?

Apparently, Castel had been talking the whole time Dean had been lost in his own head. He blinked and realized he was slumped on the floor in a half-kneeling position, unable to move in the tight embrace of Castiel’s Grace. He slumped in defeat, head away from the Dominant.

Castiel sighed as he reached out to grasp Dean’s chin and made him to meet his eyes.

”What’s your name?”

”Dean,” he answered tonelessly and tried to shift his gaze somewhere behind Castiel’s left ear. Castiel wouldn’t have any of it, though, and he squeezed Dean’s jaw a little, forcing his eyes back to his.

”Dean,” Castiel echoed, his voice sending a shiver down Dean’s spine. ”You will look at me when I am speaking to you, do you understand?” Castiel didn’t wait for an affirmation. ”I am going to make you an offer, and you are going to answer me.

”I meant what I said earlier: You are stubborn, disobedient and reckless, completely out of line. I sincerely apologize for the reaction my behavior caused and the unwanted pursuer you encountered after, even though it was more than clear how capable you are handling unwanted attention on your own.

”I will not, however, apologize for my initial reaction. Like I said, had you approached me properly with your familial Dominant, you would have found out how very differently I would have acted.

”My offer is this: you will kneel to me and I will accept your submission. I expect to be obeyed when I give an order. I do not expect mindless submission, although I seriously doubt you were even capable of it. In return, I offer you security, status, and a chance to balance yourself. You are an exceptionally strong submissive and, because of that, have been unable to find a Dominant strong enough to mate you.

”So, what is your answer?”

Dean stared at the Dominant. Up close, his eyes were just as blue as the first time Dean saw them and the pupils were dilated, showing how their fight had affected him. Something about him called to Dean and he just couldn’t—

”How the fuck are you unharmed?” He blurted.

Castiel cocked his brow. ”That was not what I asked,” he mused, but the corner of his lip twitched a little. ”But, since you wanted to know… Was I an average angel, you would have killed me, yes. But I am an archangel, and no matter how strong you are, you cannot  damage me.” He brushed his thumb over Dean’s lower lip, the gentle gesture in stark contrast with his stern words.

”I am still waiting for your answer.”

Dean swallowed. ”Do I have a choice? I figured you’d either mate me out of pity or out of dominance. It’s not like I have anything to say.” He couldn’t bite back a bitter tang seeping into his voice.

The Dominant drew back with a frown. ”I am not going to force you,” he said. ”I already said that it is your decision. If you reject me, I will replenish your Grace and let you go. I will not pursue you or try to influence you. But…” Castiel paused and glanced momentarily away, and when he turned to face Dean again, the look in his eyes took Dean’s breath away.

”I am not going to lie to you, Dean, you have greatly impressed me. You are a remarkable angel in your own right and despite your…temper, your Grace burns so brightly it almost blinds me. I have never met anyone like you and if you accept me, I would be honored to be your Dominant, to make you mine.” 

Castiel’s voice dropped into a possessive growl that made Dean’s wings shiver. He stared into Castiel’s eyes, drowning in the intensity and desire he was pretty sure hadn’t been there moments before. How— How had this happened? He’d mocked and fought an archangel and survived and now said archangel wanted to mate him? Like, for real? How the fuck was this his life? He closed his eyes to get a moment of reprieve from the gaze that seemed to bore into his core, rested his head back against the wall, and took a hard look at his options. 

He really didn’t have much choice if he wanted to keep on living because without a mate, his body would stop functioning properly in a couple of years and the resulting havoc his Grace would wreck on his system would most likely drive him insane. The mere idea of mating an actual archangel was ludicrous but also tempting because Castiel would be able to dominate the Hell out of him and that was something Dean had never truly dared to dream of. And if he was honest, he was getting so fucking tired of being alone, so. Yeah, okay, the guy was a traditionalist which…tough luck but he seemed reasonable? There were just a couple of things to check because no matter what his gut told him or how good Castiel’s offer sounded, some things were more important to Dean than finding a compatible Dominant.

”I have two questions,” he said, opening his eyes and looking Castiel straight in the eye.

Castiel nodded calmly, but his wings trembled ever so slightly.

”One, will you force me to stop working? And two, will you deny me from seeing my brother?”

”Why would I do anything like that?” Castiel asked, genuinely confused. Dean shrugged and turned his head away a little, but Castiel made him meet his eyes, again. God, that was annoying!

”I do not like stating the obvious or repeating myself but since you do not know me yet, I make an exception. Should you choose to kneel to me, I will not force you or deny you your family, not now or ever. You are your own person, Dean, and I have no wish to change it. But,” he paused, ”if you do kneel to me, I will expect your submission, your obedience, and some manners. I will expect you to trust me. You would be mine and I would do everything in my power to make you feel important, worthy, and loved.”

Dean felt a hot blush spread on his cheeks. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d expected when he’d proposed to Castiel but the last line definitely wasn’t it. He felt vulnerable and small in Castiel’s hold, his Grace gentle support holding him steady and safe.

He was pretty sure he could get used to the feeling. 

Mind made up, Dean shrugged Castiel’s Grace off and the Dominant retreated, letting him scramble awkwardly to his knees on his own. Slowly, he lowered his wings and arranged them properly and clasped his hands together behind his back. He took a deep breath and straightened his back and then let it out slowly while bowing his head, ending up in the formal pose of submission.

”I submit, freely and willingly,” he said, proud that his voice quivered only a bit.

Castiel cupped his cheek and gently nudged him to look up. ”With honor, I accept your submission,” he replied, then bent down and kissed him lightly. ”Thank you, Dean,” he said softly against his lips. Then he kissed Dean again and this time there was nothing light about it. No, it was a hard and rough kiss, a possessive claim of his lips as his right hand slipped from Dean’s cheek to grip his neck.

It was awesome.

Dean was getting a bit light-headed when he heard the door slam and—

”Dean! Are you okay?”

Sam had perfect timing, as always. 

Castiel’s wings furled wide open with a sound of thunder and he whirled around with a growl, his Grace cracking with barely contained power as he assessed the newcomer. Dean peeked under Castiel’s wing just in time to see Sam freeze and lower his wings in front of Castiel’s aggressive display of dominance, but he didn’t retreat.

”Who are you?” Castiel demanded.

Sam didn’t flinch. ”I’m Dean’s brother and his familial Dominant. Dean, are you alright?”

”Dean is fine,” Castiel said before Dean had the chance to open his mouth.  ”Now—”

”With all due respect, Castiel,” Sam interrupted, ”I want to hear it from him.”

Dean bit back a snort. Nice to know that the complete lack of self-preservation in front of an archangel ran in the family. He could practically feel the impatience thrumming through Castiel but the Dominant acquiesced, took a small step to the side, and lowered his wing from in front of Dean.

”Dean?” Sam asked, eyes wide at the sight of his brother kneeling on the floor.

”Sam, piss off. I’m fine.”

”Are you sure? If he’s forcing you, I swear to God—”

Dean’s wings flared high as he scrambled up. ”He’s not. Now, shut up and fuck off, bitch,” he snapped.

”Okay, okay,” Sam raised his hands. ”Don’t get your panties in a twist, jerk.” He turned to face Castiel and, after a moment of scrutiny, gave him a deep, formal bow. ”I acknowledge you, Castiel.”

Castiel blinked in surprise and the aggression bled out from his posture. ”I acknowledge you, Sam,” he said and returned the bow. ”And I will take care of your brother.”

Sam pursed his lips. ”You better,” he stated, before he backed away, only turning around well after the traditional distance.

Dean was watching his brother’s retreat with a grin when Castiel turned to look at him again. The Dominant’s eyes were stormy and dark and the grin slowly faded from Dean’s face. Suddenly the air around them was tense and charged and made him nervous. Castiel stalked to him, wings stiff and halfway spread, a perfect picture of an apex predator. Intellectually, Dean was fully aware of what was about to happen but he was still ready to bolt. He swallowed as the Dominant gripped his neck again and loomed over him with his wings arching high, all the while staring intensely into Dean’s eyes. 

As their chests pressed together, Dean was vaguely aware of Castiel’s wings wrapping around him, cocooning him and caressing his wings. Their feathers meshed with an exquisite feeling shooting through Dean’s spine and his eyes fluttered closed on their own accord as he lost himself in the sensation. Castiel’s hand caressed his back, moving in slow circles between his the curve of his ass and the base of his wings. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands so he gripped the lapels of Castiel’s coat and then Castiel kissed him and Dean forgot what he’d been worried about.

It was a kiss that declared Castiel’s intent in no uncertain terms; it stated dominance and possession, demanded submission and entrance and Dean—he granted it. With a tremble, he went pliant and soft, and the effect on Castiel was instantaneous. His grip on Dean’s neck turned almost painful as he tipped them over and Dean went willingly, trusting Castiel to cushion their fall.

He landed softly, naked, his wings splayed wide open and vulnerable for Castiel to see. Castiel’s naked form was a solid weight on top of him and the planes of bare skin pressing against his own felt glorious. He reached his hand out to tough but never got the chance as Castiel raised his head and pinned his hands above his head with a flick of his Grace.

”No,” he growled. ”Only I am allowed to touch, but you may scream.”

The words were like a bucket of cold water over him and Dean tensed up. 

Castiel immediately reacted. ”I am not going to hurt you. Trust me,” he murmured against his lips, caressing Dean’s wings with his own. He kissed his way along Dean’s jaw to his ear, licked the pulse point and bit gently his earlobe. ”Let go, Dean.”

And he did.

He fell into an endless sea of sensation: their wings intertwined, Castiel’s lips mapping their way along Dean’s body and his Grace caressing him everywhere, creating a sensory build-up that left him floating in bliss. He was a mass of pulsing and throbbing want and only dimly aware of moaning out a low noise that made no sense. His hands were still pinned, his legs splayed wide open, and his wings quivering and fluttering under the administrations of Castiel’s own. Never in his life had he been so blatantly open but now, with Castiel, he felt…secure.

”Open your eyes.”

Even before the order fully registered, Dean’s eyes snapped open to see Castiel sitting back on his haunches, gazing down at him with a wild look in his eyes. He looked magnificent: his hair was disheveled, his tanned skin flushed and slightly sweaty, and his deep blue wings raised high, slowly swaying back and forth. Dean’s eyes locked on his and he couldn’t look away, not even when Castiel’s gaze roamed over his naked form.

His hands rested on Dean’s thighs while his Grace slid slowly along Dean’s skin. It was intimate and sublime, the way the cool sensation traveled down the side of his neck, dipped into the hollow at the vase of his throat and pulsed there in the rapid rhythm of his heart. Dean swallowed around a dry throat, holding his breath when the Grace shivered at the motion. It swirled lazily a moment longer before continuing down his chest and brushing over his nipples.

Dean closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to stifle a whimper and failed.

Castiel clenched his hands on Dean’s thighs forcing his attention back to the Dominant. ”Do not hold back the noise you make. I want to hear you. I want to see your eyes. Do you understand?”

Dean flushed bright red. Yeah, he’d had plenty of sex before but none of his earlier partners had ever wanted anything like…this but then, none of them had earned his submission, either. He swallowed again and nodded. Somewhere deep within him, warmth blossomed when Castiel’s eyes softened and he rubbed his thumbs on Dean’s thighs until he was fully relaxed again.

And then his Grace returned to its ministrations on Dean’s chest, massaging his nipples until they were hard nubs and all Dean’s focus was on those two pulsing, bright spots of pleasure. He was distantly aware of his oil glands starting to leak to prepare him for the mating, a dull throb he didn’t dare concentrating too much because now, another tendril of Castiel’s Grace traveled down his stomach. It curled around his groin and the base of his erect cock, moved along the shaft to the glans and into the slit, and then back. It moved in a fluid motion back and forth, back and forth, creating a continuous loop of pleasure and Dean let out a low wail—it was too much, too much, too intense, everything a pulsing sea of feeling that didn’t let up. When another tendril moved past his cock and circled his hole, the sensory load went overboard and he arched from the floor, let out a hoarse cry but he still couldn’t—he—Castiel was still pinning him down, his Grace unrelenting, still pulsing, still holding in a vice grip—he wanted to come—he couldn’t—God—

Then Castiel released his hold his cock and everything went white.

When he came back to, and indeterminate time later, the Dominant was leaning slightly over him with a frown. It smoothed away as soon as Castiel saw he was back.

”Are you alright?”

Dean didn’t trust his voice just yet so he nodded. His were no longer pinned but relaxes on his sides and he reached out to touch Castiel’s face, only to freeze in the air because shit, he wasn’t supposed to touch—

Castiel smiled. ”You can touch me now.”

Still hesitant, Dean brought his hand up and traced the line from Castiel’s temple down to his jaw, brushed a thumb over his lip, and cupped his cheek, following the movement with his eyes. When his finger trailed the crinkled lines around the Dominant’s eyes, his eyes met Castiel’s he was blown away by the sheer feeling in them. Suddenly embarrassed, he dropped his hand and turned his head.

”Do not hide your face from me, you have no reason to,” Castiel murmured. ”You were good—more than good, you were magnificent. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are in your surrender?”

And just like that, his position was uncomfortable. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, not sure what was going to happen next. He heard Castiel sigh and mutter something under his breath and then there were fingers under his chin and once more, Castiel turned his head to face him. He fully expected the order to open his eyes again so when Castiel kissed him, deep and hungry, he was momentarily thrown before kissing back. 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands but Castiel had said he could touch now, right? So, he raised his hands and tentatively stroked Castiel’s wings. They were silky soft and shivered at the touch and when Castiel didn’t object, he decided it was probably okay. He carded his fingers through the inky feathers and marveled the palpable strength of the massive appendages. 

He was so preoccupied with the feel of Castiel’s wings under his hands and his mouth on his that the light pressure against his hole made him twitch. Oh, right. That. He spread his legs wider to give Castiel better access and preened when Castiel growled his approval. The Dominant lowered himself on top of him, slotting between Dean’s legs like he belonged there. His cock was hard and huge against Dean’s abdomen and Dean shivered at the thought of having it in him soon.

Castiel’s Grace breached him, gentle and easy, and Dean could feel it inside of him; pulsing, swelling, stretching him with utmost care. It grew steadily bigger and when it started pressing continuously against his prostate, Dean gasped away from the kiss. Castiel didn’t chase after his lips but kissed his way down his torso instead until Dean was a panting mess and his cock tried to harden again, and then sat back on his haunches and looked at Dean with hooded eyes. He was momentarily confused about the whole thing—why had Castiel stopped kiss—

When Castiel’s Grace gently squeezed his swollen oil glands Dean screamed. The glands were oversensitive, swollen huge with oil and the careful milking made Dean wither and sob in pain/pleasure his mind couldn’t quite cope with. Distantly, he heard Castiel’s sharp hiss and knew the Dominant was milking his own glands as well but the knowledge was soon lost in the searing feeling coursing from his wings through his whole body. 

He swam back to surface some time later when it wasn’t Castiel’s Grace breaching him but his oil-covered fingers. The overwhelming intensity of his glands had lessened into a blissful throbbing and he let out a moan. Castiel’s head snapped up and his eyes, just a thin right of blue around black pupils, zeroed on Dean’s. 

”I am going to take you now, Dean,” he said, voice wrecked with want. He was trembling but didn’t move and Dean realized he was waiting for his reaction. He nodded.

The fingers carefully withdrew and Dean bit back a whimper at the emptiness. His Dominant rose to his knees, took a hold of Dean’s hips and raised him so that he was laying on Castiel’s lap and slowly, slowly, pushed in. Even with all the careful preparation, it was too much and he whimpered and thrashed, desperately trying to find something to hold on to. Castiel’s Grace gently caged him in but it wasn’t enough, he couldn’t hold it, he needed more, something, anything. Castiel’s wings brushed his sides and he grabbed them, ignoring Castiel’s grunt. It seemed like forever before Castiel was fully inside of him and by then, they were both trembling and panting.

”Open your eyes, Dean,” Castiel said hoarsely.

Dean obeyed and saw Castiel trembling with restraint to the tips of his wings, a sheen of sweat covering his face and chest. He was glowing with Grace as it spilled from his eyes and through his skin and Dean drowned in him, not quite believing he’d ended up here, mating an actual archangel who treated him like he was something precious.

”You are,” Castiel rasped, and Dean wasn’t sure if the guy had read his mind or if he’d accidentally spoken out loud. ”You are precious and you are mine.” The possessive growl wormed its way into Dean, into that achingly empty hole in his core he’d ignored his whole life. And just like that, Dean knew what to do.

”Yours,” he whispered and bared his throat.

He knew he didn’t have to do that: Castiel had already proved his dominance and Dean had submitted. But this felt right, this complete surrender. For a split second, Castiel froze and then his hand closed around Dean’s throat, careful and unbearably gentle, and Dean let go.

When Castiel started to rock into him, Dean was already floating. The hand on his throat kept him tethered while his mind was in flight, boundless and free under God’s skies, and his body a sea of pleasure for his Dominant to drown in. He flew, unconcerned and filled with joy, only returning closer to Heaven when his Dominant shifted his hold and pulled him to sit fully on his lap. Castiel’s cock buried itself impossibly deep and Dean gasped, feeling like he was being split to pieces, the sensation lessened when Castiel’s wings surrounded him. They were heavy with mating oil and when the wet feathers meshed with his own and eventually brushed his glands, it was like an extended electric shock with flavor. Under him, his Dominant trembled as well, signaling the same imprinting of oils. Around them, their Graces blazed and merged, Castiel’s power so much brighter than Dean’s nearly exhausted one, sealing their mating for all eternity. 

Castiel’s grip grew tight and his moves erratic as he closed his orgasm, his face tucked into the crook of Dean’s neck. With a groan, Dean buried his hands in Castiel’s wings and pressed himself closer, closer, like he wanted to melt into Castiel. His cock, trapped in between them, was oversensitive and leaking and it didn’t take much for Dean to come again. He climaxed with a sob and it pushed Castiel over the edge. He came with a guttural cry, trembling and clutching Dean close.

They stayed like that for some time, intertwined in body, wings, and Grace, mentally and physically drained. Dean nuzzled his face against Castiel’s neck while the Dominant rubbed slow circles around his sides and back. He’d never really been into cuddling but now, in Castiel’s arms, he felt good. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud to anyone, especially Sam, but…whatever. 

Castiel gave a slight whole-body shudder and raised his head from Dean’s shoulder. ”Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

”Peachy,” Dean croaked. Castiel didn’t look convinced and gave him a flat stare. Dean rolled his eyes. ”I’m going to be fucking sore, but otherwise… yeah. I’m fine.”

Castiel’s eyes widened a fraction. ”Did I hurt you?”

”Um, no? Soreness sort of comes with the package, Cas.”

”…Cas?”

Dean shrugged. ”Yeah. Your name’s a mouthful, after all.”

The Dominant raised a brow. ”Well. It is better than ’Cassie,’ which my brother likes to use.”

”Your brother? The short submissive that came with you?”

”How did you know that Gabriel is a submissive?” Castiel frowned.

”It takes one to know one,” Dean grinned. ”Is Gabriel also an arch—” He stopped as he realized that, yeah, archangel lines ran in families and there was only one archangel named Gabriel. The Gabriel. 

He was mated to the brother of the Voice of God. 

He was so fucked, so, so fucked. He’d mated way beyond his pay grade, he was so out of his depth and, oh shit oh shit oh shit—

”Dean!” A hand gripped his neck almost painfully, forcing him to focus on his Dominant. ”Dean, what is it?”

”Your brother is the archangel Gabriel. The archangel Gabriel,” Dean hissed like it explained it all.

”And?”

”And—everything!” Dean flailed and his wings flared, and he would’ve probably fallen from Castiel’s softening cock if the Dominant hadn’t been gripping his neck.

”Calm yourself, Dean. I do not understand why you are panicking.”

”I’m not panicking,” he sputtered, definitely panicked. ”Much,” he added with resignation and slumped to lean his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder.

He felt Castiel sigh. ”If you are referring to the difference in our social statuses, I can assure you that I do not give a damn and I know for certain that Gabriel gives even less. He is, like he says, ’out of fucks to give’.”

Dean snorted despite himself.

”Speaking of brothers, you and your brother seem to share some characteristics. Like stubbornness,” Castiel stated dryly, as he helped Dean up from his lap. 

Dean winced at the soreness and the feeling of come leaking from his hole and dribbling down his thigh, because, eww. ”He’s had the best teacher,” he quipped and grinned at Castiel’s eye-roll when the Dominant stood up.

The corridor was a mess, feathers everywhere and the floor soaked in oil and…other fluids. Castiel frowned and cleaned the space with a flicker of his Grace, nodding when all traces of their mating was gone. Their clothes were in a neat pile by the wall—How? Dean had no idea— but he hesitated, earning a bemused look from Castiel.

”You are free to go naked if you like, but I would prefer you were clothed in public.”

”What – No!” Dean squeaked. ”I mean, I’m all oily and jizzy.”

”And?”

Dean rolled his eyes. ”And I’d like to clean up, and I could use some help since my batteries are running low.”

”No,” Castiel said, already halfway dressed.

”No? What do you mean, ’no’?”

”No, I am not going to help you to clean up. I want you covered in my scent, my oil, and my sperm. I want our mating visible to everyone.”

Dean’s mouth fell open and he stared at Castiel, who calmly laced his shoes. ”Possessive bastard,” he muttered as he reached for his clothes.

”Yes, I am,” Castiel answered smugly.

Dean ignored the hot flare the admission caused in his belly and dressed gingerly, wincing at the dried come on his stomach and the drag of his oil-heavy wings. When he was finally ready, he sighed, rolled his shoulders, and turned to leave.

Castiel cleared his throat. ”Where do you think you are going?”

”Um. Home?”

”No. We are going back to the Hall to formally announce our mating.”

Dean groaned. Formal announcing meant dancing and…just no. ”Do we have to?”

”Yes.”

”But I don’t want to!” Dean complained and shook his wings, splattering little droplets of oil to the walls.

Castiel’s eyes flashed and he took hold of Dean’s neck. ”We are going to do this ’by the book’ like you so adeptly put it. We are going to announce our mating in the Hall. And you will dance with me.”

Dean bristled. ”I so don’t dance!”

”You will dance with me, properly,” his Dominant growled and tightened his hold on Dean’s neck, and Dean went completely limp. ”You will dance with me in front of the other angels with your wings down so that everyone can see that you are mine.” 

Dean swallowed. He didn’t know how to dance. He didn’t do dancing. And he definitely didn’t want to do it in front of the crowd who had jeered at him earlier. But he followed Castiel back to the hall, feeling shy and demure. Despite his blustering and attitude, he’d never thought he’d be here: entering the Great Hall for his formal mating dance. He tucked his wings closer and hid his face in Castiel’s neck and more felt than heard the approving low growl. From the corner of his eye, he spied Castiel’s wings raised high and curled around them, both shielding his submissive and displaying the amount of oil they’d absorbed.

A shocked silence accompanied by incredulous gasps and whispers followed them but Dean didn’t give a fuck. Castiel had established his dominance and Dean had submitted to him, and the rest of Heaven could go to Hell for all he cared. Castiel’s hand was a grounding grip on his neck, asserting his dominance and possessiveness and Dean was freely helpless in his hold. As Castiel led them to the dance floor, Dean kept his wings submissively lowered, their undersides open and visible only for Castiel.

”Look at me,” his Dominant murmured into his ear when they started to dance.

Dean raised his head and locked eyes with him. He couldn’t avert his gaze, didn’t even want to, and they spun around and around, lost in each other. Pressed against Castiel’s chest, all Dean could see, feel, and hear was Castiel.

And he’d never felt so complete.

Huh.

Looked like his brother was a proper submissive after all, Sam mused as he watched the dancing pair completely oblivious of the world around them. He was happy for Dean even though he couldn’t deny being slightly overwhelmed about the whole traditional Dominant thing, let alone the Dominant being an archangel. But as long as Dean was content and Castel treated him right, well, who was Sam to butt in?

”Well, look at that,” someone said as his lap was suddenly full of golden-brown feathers.

He saved his drink with a quick flick of his Grace and brushed the feathers aside with a frown at a small, older angel leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He was nursing a rather disturbing looking drink with all possible garnish and stuffed into the glass.

”Um, pardon?” He said.

”I said, ’Well, look at that’,” the other repeated, slower now. ”And by looking at that I mean that’s our brothers shocking the Hell out of these prudes,” Castiel’s brother said and nodded his head at the dancing couple. ”Wouldn’t have pegged your bro as a submissive, though,” he added and pursed his lips before giving Sam a coy smile. ”But then, looks can be deceiving.”

”Ah,” Sam said smartly. Was the other flirting with him?

The older angel shook his wings and stretched them a little, and Sam’s eyes were drawn to the golden plumage, the soft swaying of the wings and—Yeah. Definitely flirting.

His staring was interrupted by an amused ”Coming?” and a cocked eyebrow. He followed the other angel with a grin, checking out the lines of his body on the way. The older male’s behavior was nowhere near submissive, but he didn’t mind.

After all, Sam had had a great teacher.

Castiel was…content. Yes, that was the proper word for it. He was mated and he was content.

Living at the Edge was rougher than he was used to, back when he still lived in the Capitol but he enjoyed it more. He was a scholar by nature and liked the chance of just immersing himself in the mounds of tomes he’d moved with him when he’d started his new life. It wasn’t common for the Dominant to uproot their lives and accommodate their submissive but for Castiel, it hadn’t been such a big deal. He could work from wherever he chose and he’d promised Dean he wouldn’t have to give up his work. Moving in with Dean had made his submissive happy and a happy Dean was a joy in so many, delightful ways.

Oh, Dean…

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment to center himself. Thinking about Dean tended to sidetrack him but right now, he was in a contemplative mood. He could daydream later.

He’d never really considered himself as the mating type. He knew what was expected of him, of course, but as the youngest of a flock of Dominant archangels, looking after Gabriel, the flock’s only submissive, had been more than enough for him. He knew Gabriel didn’t exactly need looking after—his powers were surpassed only by Michael and Lucifer—but it was proper. And proper was important.

He also knew that the main reason he had been chosen to chaperone Gabriel was the simple fact that if it had been Michael or Lucifer, Heaven would’ve witnessed fratricide in mere days if not hours. Gabriel was…a handful, to say the least.

So, when Gabriel had wanted to attend the New Season’s Ball, Castiel had agreed to go with gritted teeth. He didn’t like crowds and he didn’t like the posturing and simpering their status immediately caused. And he definitely didn’t like how Gabriel treated the Ball like a personal buffet—and not of the food variety. It wasn’t that Castiel was a prude, he just wanted certain things to go by the book.

The thought made him shake his head fondly. ’Mr. By-The-Book’ was the name Dean had called him by after he’d followed the submissive into the corridor and witnessed him take down the arrogant and unworthy excuse of a Dominant. It had thrilled him to the core of his Grace to see the lethal power Dean wielded and the easy flow of his Grace around him. In fact, Dean’s spirit and the sheer brightness of his very essence had almost blinded Castiel the moment he’d first laid his eyes on the submissive, and turning away from him in the Ball had taken every ounce of his self-control. He’d never been so close to breaking his own code of conduct but in the end, he’d made it through. Making up for the hurt it had caused Dean was something he was still working on even though the submissive had brought it on himself.

Like summoned, he heard a knock on his study’s door before it opened. He didn’t need to look up to see who it was because Dean was the only one who entered without waiting for permission. Sam respected Castiel’s space and acted upon it, Dean…not so much.

”Cas? You should take a break. You’ve been cooped up in here since sunrise,” Dean said as he walked gingerly in. His left wing was still tightly bandaged and he was limping, courtesy of the fight he and Sam had been in earlier that week. It was the first and only time Castiel had been close to breaking his promise of never denying Dean his work and as a result, they’d had a massive fight that had left Castiel fuming, Dean hurt and closed off, and the walls of the common room scorched. It had taken Castiel considerable effort to step out of his comfort zone to address the depth of his feelings and how the mere thought of losing Dean made him feel. The aftermath of that particular conversation still rippled through them both in every interaction they shared.

”I apologize,” he said and rubbed a hand over his face. ”I lost the passage of time again. This book is…intriguing.”

”Oh? What’s it about?” Dean asked as he stopped by his side. Castiel, sensing his hesitation, turned slightly and spread his wings in invitation. He was pleased when Dean immediately settled on his lap and leaned against his chest, Castiel’s wings closing around them. He lifted his left hand to grip Dean’s neck in a loose hold, and Dean relaxed in his hold with a contented hum and a shiver. Something deep within Castiel settled.

To have this, to have Dean trusting and happy on his lap even after their fight was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

He started going through his discoveries on the angelic lore of the Seven Spheres of Existence, losing himself in the theories and assertions while Dean nuzzled his nose against the crook of his neck. It was a respite for him as well, this moment of quiet intimacy when they had nowhere to go and nothing to do except to be there with each other and let their Graces entwine and enjoy each other’s presence.

”Oh, I almost forgot!” Dean suddenly said, interrupting Castiel’s narration. ”You got a letter.” He dug into his vest and handed Castiel a slightly rumpled envelope, thick and expensive.

”You didn’t open it?” Castiel asked.

”Of course I didn’t!” Dean bristled. ”It’s got your family seal on it.”

”That was an observation, beloved, not a reprimand,” Castiel soothed and pressed a kiss on Dean’s forehead, drawing pleasure from the way a rosy blush spread on his cheeks and how he burrowed closer to Castiel. 

He forced his mind out of Dean and his delights and focused on the letter. The seal was indeed his family crest and he frowned as he broke the wax with a snap. He couldn’t figure out why anyone of his family wanted to contact him. It wasn’t that they weren’t in speaking terms, they just…didn’t interact much.

”Oh…it is from Gabriel,” he said, scanning the letter. ”He wishes to come to visit us.” He frowned. ”I suppose there is no reason why not. Despite his loudness, he is the most amicable of my family.”

”After you, you mean,” Dean quipped and grinned when Castiel gave him a dry look. ”Yeah, sure, he’s welcome. It’s not like we don’t have space to spare, right?”

Castiel nodded. ”I shall reply to him right away,” he said and made no attempt to remove Dean from his lap. Instead, he circled his arms around his mate and held him closer, mindful of the injured wing. Gabriel’s letter could wait a little longer.

If possible, Dean seemed to melt into him even more and let out a content sigh. And then he froze.

”So…you do know he banged Sam at the Ball, right?” 

Oo-kay. The Winchester place wasn’t exactly a palace but that wasn’t what Gabriel had been expecting anyway. Sure, Cassie was a traditionalist but only in the purest sense of the word. He respected the core values of traditionalism—it wasn’t like he wanted a grand manor and flocks of servants to cater his every wish; he’d probably be content anywhere he could store his piles of dusty old tomes. And, yeah, a place to bend his submissive over a desk. Or a couch. Or any flat surface, really.

Gabriel made a face, pushed the thought out of his mind, and stepped to the door to bang his fist on it. Several times. When no one answered, he groaned and cast his eyes heavenward before landing one, final bang on the—firm chest in front of him.

”Oops?” He said, grinning at the tall Dominant. ”Hey, I know you! You had a lot less clothes on the last time we met.”

The Dominant rolled his eyes and moved to the side, beckoning him in. ”Welcome to our humble home, Gabriel,” he said. ”Please, try not to wreck everything while you’re over.”

He gasped dramatically and whirled around. ”Who, me? I’m hurt. Insulted, even. Never in my life have I been treated like this—”

”I bet,” the Dominant interrupted, amused. ”Do you want me to get your things?” He nodded at the pile of luggage at Gabriel’s feet.

”Nah, I’ll just zap them where they need to go later.”

The Dominant raised a brow. ”O-kay,” he said slowly and then jerked his head towards the stairway. ”Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

”I’d follow you anywhere,” Gabriel murmured, giving the younger man an appreciative once-over, letting his eyes linger on the curve of the Dominant’s ass and—

”Please, stop staring at my ass.”

Gabriel grinned. Yeah, he remembered this Dominant very well indeed. Apart from the burning need to get away from the Capitol and his overbearing Dominant brothers, this strapping young Angel was a compelling reason to visit his favorite brother. Gabriel had very fond memories of their brief but extremely well spent time in the empty side office during the New Season’s Ball. It wasn’t his first tryst by far but usually his companions were easily forgettable after the heat of the moment had passed.

This one, though? Not so much.

They made their way up to the second floor and then along a hallway until they arrived at the double doors at the end of the hallway. The Dominant opened the doors and stepped a bit to the side and motioned Gabriel to enter.

”Okay, this is your room,” he said. ”You have a small sitting area right here by the fire, a bathroom with a full-sized bathing tub, a balcony right there, and over here—” he said, walking forward and pointing to his left, ”is your bedroom. You should find everything you need but if we’ve missed something, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

Gabriel cocked his head. ”You’ll take care of it?” He asked, curious. ”Don’t you have servants?”

The other man shrugged. ”What for? It’s just Dean, Cas, and I, and before Cas, Dean and I lived here alone. We’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves and this house.”

”Makes sense,” Gabriel said as he waved his hand and transported his luggage with a twist of his Grace, sending most of his things at their proper places right away. 

”Huh,” the Dominant said. ”If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way. Dinner’s downstairs at six. Follow the noise.”

”Oh, I have one question,” Gabriel said lightly when the Dominant was almost out of the door. ”What’s your name? I’m not sure if I forgot or if I didn’t catch it in the first place.”

The only answer he got was an impressively flat look before he closed the rood behind him.

”Tough crowd,” Gabriel murmured as he turned slowly around and took a proper look at his quarters.

Admittedly, it was on the small side (then again, everything was on the smaller side after his family’s estate) but it was cozy and warm, an inviting den to retreat to. The upholstering on the armchairs was worn but the furniture practically glowed with love. Everywhere he looked, he saw things that while not in top shape, were well-loved and taken care of. It was different from the stuffy and pompous setting of his old home and he found he rather liked the change. He took a tour around the space, peeked into the closets and checked the bathroom, sending his toiletries, books, and other knickknacks in their proper places with his Grace as he went. It was a habit he’d picked up a couple of millennia ago and never bothered gotten rid of, even though he’d gotten some side-eye for it. Michael had called him lazy and Lucifer snorted he was a showoff but so what? He didn’t care. It was more convenient like this anyway.

In the bathroom, he took one look at the giant bathtub and decided to indulge in a bath. The journey hadn’t been that long or strenuous, not for an angel of his powers, but the lure of the tub was too much to resist. The water that poured from the tap was piping hot and smelled slightly of sulfur which created an interesting combination with the generous amount of sweet-smelling bubble soap he added. It was one of the silly habits he’d picked up from humans. Completely useless but oh, so much fun.

He immersed himself in the bath, enjoying the chance to soak his wings properly and dozed off in the hot water. When he surfaced, his skin was wrinkled and his primary wings dragged with the weight of water but he felt refreshed in a way he didn’t remember feeling in quite a while. He stood up and shook his wings, effectively soaking the whole bathroom in the process. With a hum, he picked up a soft grey towel, dried it up with his Grace, and wrapped it around his middle. He cleaned up the mess in the bathroom with a thought and then walked to the balcony. 

The view from the balcony was breathtaking. The ground around the house was lush and green, the garden filled with bushes and fruit trees that created patterns around the yard that almost looked like a maze. Further off beyond the property line, the grass gave way to thorny bushes and the trees shriveled up until all that was left was a rocky, barren wasteland. And beyond that…the Edge. As he’d never been stationed at the Edge, it was unlike anything Gabriel had ever seen. The Barrier between Heaven and Purgatory shimmered like liquid glass, reflecting both the sun on Heaven’s side and something darker on the other side. It stretched across the horizon farther than the eye could see, a constant reminder of why the Winchesters were where they were. Absently, eyes still captured by the mesmerizing sight, he spread all his wings out and lazily fanned them, stretching them properly for the first time in quite a while.

He lost the sense of time and was jerked from his thoughts by a firm knock on the door.

”Yes?”

The door opened to admit Castiel. ”You are late from dinner, Gabriel,” he said curtly.

”Oh, shit. Sorry about that,” Gabriel said, genuinely apologetic. ”I took a bath and then…” he turned to look back at the Barrier and his voice trailed away.

The slight scowl on his brother’s face smoothed away and he nodded. ”It is mesmerizing, is it not? I used to stand on the balcony and stare at it for hours as well.” A shadow passed over his face. ”It does get less enticing after you know what happens over there.”

”Oh?”

Castiel’s lips tightened. ”Dean and Sam work there. It is dangerous.”

Ah… As captivating as the Barrier was from afar, Gabriel was sure it was less beautiful from up close. The brothers, just like countless other angels who lived at the Edge, risked their lives on an almost daily basis to keep the demons and other monsters from crossing over.

”Get dressed, Gabriel. Unless you plan to eat like that in which case I will lock you in and forget you ever came to visit.”

Gabriel snorted but when he glanced at his brother, he saw a sliver of humor in his eyes. ”Cassie, dearest, did you just make a joke?” 

”I have do idea what made you think that,” Castiel said mildly. 

”Ohh, I like this new you,” Gabriel crowed, delighted. ”I can’t wait to get my hands on Dean and talk with him properly, submissive to submissive.”

”Gabriel, no.”

”Gabriel, yes,” he shot back with a grin.

A long-suffering sigh was the only reaction he got as an answer.

***

The stabilized power dynamics of the household were thrown out of the window when Gabriel’s archangel powers were added to the mix and it would take them some time to get comfortable with each other. Sure, Gabriel could hold his Grace close to the heart but he didn’t want to. He had a feeling he’d be staying over for some time and the sooner they’d get the rough edges rubbed off—in any way, he snickered at himself—the easier it would be for them all. In the meanwhile, he’d make himself acquainted with the house, the immense amount of love and power that had seeped into the very structure of the estate making it more than clear that this was a family home, deeply loved and well taken care of. 

The study and library were clearly Castiel’s domain while Sam took care of the armory and training hall and Dean commandeered the kitchen. 

”But not because I’m made to,” he pointed out with a dark look and pointed Gabriel with a knife. ”I’m in the kitchen because I love cooking, not because it’s my place as a submissive or any other archaic dynamics shit like that.”

Gabriel shrugged. ”Nah, I get it. I’m not so much into cooking but I like to experiment with baking every now and then. Didn’t get to do that much at home, though.”

”Why’s that?”

”Too many servants,” Gabriel said. ”And funnily enough, my dearest brothers didn’t see it as a hobby fit for an archangel.” Talking about hypocrisy, he thought. Michael and Lucifer wanted him to be a submissive but not like other submissives because that would lower his status and, through him, their own status or…something. He’d stopped listening to them eons ago anyway.

”Well, that’s just stupid,” Dean said. ”You should do what you want to do, not how your designation’s supposed to act by someone’s rules.” He paused and then added, ”I mean, as long as it doesn’t hurt you or others.”

Gabriel snatched a sugar cane from the cutting board in front of Dean. ”Is that why you hunt?” He asked, taking a bite. It was sweet and spicy and damn good. He’d have to ask Dean later what he’d done with it.

”Sort of. I mean, it’s what our family has done since the dawn of time. The Winchester clan has always taken care of the Edge, it’s in our blood. We’re Hunters which makes us bigger, stronger, more stubborn, and more feral than most angels. We live and breathe our work and mate with angels who understand what we do. It wouldn’t work otherwise.” He paused for a split moment when Gabriel snatched another sugar cane and continued in an even tone, ”And the next time you steal from my cutting board, I’ll chop your fingers off.”

Gabriel shot him a shit-eating grin and sauntered out of the kitchen.

***

It was interesting to observe Dean in the presence of two Dominants. Or, more accurately, one Dominant since Sam and Dean’s relationship was more a familial, brotherly relationship than a strict Dominant/submissive dynamic. Castiel and Dean on the other hand… 

Gabriel was slightly surprised to realize how much of their dynamic they kept in their bedchamber. The Castiel he’d grown up with had carried himself stiffly, always prim and proper, forever conscious of the moral code he felt angels should follow more closely. But it had never been the pompous, hypocritical stiffness Michael and Lucifer fell back to, it had been something uniquely Castiel. But now, as he observed his brother, he realized the moral code was perhaps something Castiel held as a personal guideline and not something he expected others to act upon. And the more he watched the newly mated pair, the more he wondered how he’d ever thought his brother was a cool and collected, almost curt angel when he clearly was anything but.

Because frankly, Gabriel wasn’t sure if the two idiots realized just how much their wings gave away. Castiel might act gruff and stern all he liked but his wings reached out for Dean every time he entered the room and Dean didn’t have nearly as good a grip on his poker face as he believed: his wings shivered ever so slightly whenever he glanced at Castiel. Partly it was because they were still in the honeymoon phase but Gabriel was pretty sure it was more than that. Rarely had he seen two angels so attuned to each other as Cassie and Dean and, despite his good-natured teasing, he was genuinely happy for them.

Gabriel remembered how Dean had looked at the Ball. Cocky and proud when he’d first approached Castiel, the churning self-doubt and need that simmering just under his skin in the way only another powerful submissive could relate to. And later, after their mating, Dean had been a fucked-out mess with his wings dripping with mating oils and his whole body reeking of Castiel’s seed, and he’d been…exquisite. And Castiel himself had been magnificent, soaring high in his Dominance and reveling in the way his submissive bent under his wings. 

Anyway, while the mated pair had only had eyes for each other, Gabriel had witnessed the shocked and jealous gazes they gathered from all around the Great Hall. And, if he was being honest, he hadn’t quite managed to suppress the wistful twinge in his chest. Because while he knew he’d never kneel for anyone, he still felt the longing for someone who had the power and knowledge to take him out of his mind. As an archangel, he knew enough tricks to survive his heats but weaving spells with his Grace and picking up barely passable Dominants weren’t enough.

He had an itch he wanted to scratch but so far, he hadn’t encountered a Dominant who could pique his interest for long. Well, not until he’d met Sam. Something about the young Dominant had resonated in him and he wanted to know what. And now he was under the same room with said Dominant and he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he wander into Sam’s space on purpose? Or should he wait and see what would happen? It had been almost a week already and he was slowly getting…frustrated.

He let out a sigh and only then realized what he’d done. Shit.

”Something wrong, brother?” Castiel asked from across the common room. He still had a book in his hand but his eyes were sharp and way too knowing as he looked at Gabriel.

Gabriel made a face and rolled his eyes, trying to cover up his blunder. ”I’m just bored, I think,” he said sprawling on the couch. ”Don’t get me wrong, Dean-o, your home is beautiful and all your seven chess boards are very pretty, I’m just…” he trailed away.

”Bored,” Dean concluded from his chair by the window. He’d been writing on a garishly big tome in front of him on the table and when he twirled his pen thoughtfully, it spattered ink around. ”Hmm… we should go out tomorrow and you should come with.”

Gabriel frowned. ”Out?” He repeated slowly.

Dean shrugged. ”Yeah. Out to the Barrier. You’d see some action. Might help to get you out of your bored funk.”

”Dean,” Castiel started in a low tone but when Dean turned to look at him with a raised brow and steel in his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut. ”Fine,” he said stiffly. ”If Gabriel so wishes, he can accompany you.”

”Bold of you to assume I need your permission to do anything,” Gabriel said airily, inwardly curious about the turn the conversation had taken.

”Okay, then it’s settled,” Dean said with a smile that had way too much teeth in it and which probably wasn’t meant for Gabriel anyway. He turned back to his book and ignored Cassie who pretended to read his book. It would’ve been more believable if he hadn’t stared at one, fixed point for a good while before he stood up, excused himself, and left the room.

Gabriel raised a brow at the tension in Dean’s wings. ”Troubles in Paradise?” He asked. 

”What? No,” Dean said and his jaw clenched. ”See you in the garden tomorrow morning. We leave at sunrise.” With that, he got up and left the room, his book and pen forgotten.

Gabriel pursed his lips. ”Oo-kay. Awkward.” He closed the ink bottle and set the pen on its stand before returning to sit on the couch with a frown.

***

The next morning greeted him with a crisp chill that plumed his breath as soon as he stepped out to the back yard. Sun was barely a promise on the horizon, painting the sky red in anticipation. Dean was already waiting for him, dressed in dark pants and vest, gazing at the Barrier. He was wearing a leather harness that held two swords in his back and two shorter blades hung from his belt, and when he turned, Gabriel saw he had two wickedly curved daggers strapped across his chest. His arms were bare but for leather forearm braces and his wings were…

”What did you do with your wings?”

”Stained brown,” Dean answered. ”The Edge is mostly grey and brown, my green wings stand out if I don’t color them.” He took one look at Gabriel’s clothes, shook his head, and handed him a bundle. ”Those aren’t gonna work. Change into these.”

Gabriel raised a brow, then shrugged and switched his clothes with a snap of his Grace. ”This seems a bit skimpy for the weather,” he pointed out.

”It’ll be a lot warmer where we’re going, don’t worry,” Dean said dryly. ”Also, don’t do that, show off your Grace. It attracts the demons.”

”Isn’t that sort of the point?”

”Not really,” Sam said from behind him. He was also dressed like Dean and Gabriel felt a pleasant shiver in his gut at the sight of his bare arms. He dragged his eyes back into Sam’s and met an exasperated look. ”We fight demons and monsters, yes, but we do it with weapons. Grace behaves erratically near the Barrier and while it’s a good last resort, there’s no point in drawing more attention to us.”

Gabriel frowned. ”But surely an archangel’s Grace is more than a match?”

Sam shrugged. ”Well, yeah. But you’d light up like a beacon, exposing us to every creature on this part of the Edge. And it’s not like you’ll be around, right?” He added dryly.

Unsure of how to react, Gabriel said, ”Um,” and then shut his mouth with a snap.

Dean stomped his feet and rolled his shoulders, impatient to be on his way already. ”Okay girls!” He said and clapped his hands together. ”I’ve been cooped up for over a month, let’s get going.” He very pointedly did not look at the second-story window and Gabriel glanced up, he saw Cassie watching them take flight. Something was clearly going on with those two and it irritated him that he didn’t know what it was. He liked to know things.

He pushed the annoyance off his mind as they made their way toward the Edge. It took a surprisingly long time and the closer they got, the more barren the ground below turned and the warmer the air. In the distance, he could see other shapes moving toward the Barrier and guessed they were other hunter angels.

”I was thinking about Gardener’s Peak,” Dean said as he finally led them to the ground and touched the cracked, brown earth.

”Dean, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sam said.

”Why, what’s in Gardener’s Peak?” Gabriel asked.

”It’s a demon infestation,” Dean said airily. ”They do that at times, carve their way through Purgatory and try to make it to this side. We stop them.”

”It’s more than an infestation,” Sam snapped. ”It’s a nest, one of the biggest we’ve seen so far. And it’s also the place where Dean got hurt the last time.”

Dean scoffed. ”I’m all healed now, so don’t fuss, Samy.”

”It’s not me you need to worry about,” Sam pointed out. ”And don’t give me that look. You know exactly what you’re about to do and how much trouble you’ll be in.”

”Ooh,” Gabriel gasped and gave Dean a wide-eyed look. ”You’re going to be naughty?”

Dean had two bright red spots on his cheeks. ”Fuck you, I do what I want,” he snapped at Sam. ”Besides, we have Gabe as a back-up, don’t we?”

”Still not a good idea but whatever. Your hide, your choice,” Sam sighed, exasperated. ”Just…try not to get mauled this time, okay?”

Dean rolled his eyes before he walked to the Barrier and stopped right in front of it. It twisted and rolled like a living thing which it kind of was if Gabriel remembered his history lessons right. It was an embodiment of God’s Will combined with the true Purpose of angels and the resilience and Commitment of the angels who’d worked on it since its creation. It seemed to almost like reach out for Dean who inspected it almost clinically, taking stock of minute changes on its surface with the experience he’d gathered. 

”Okay, I’m gonna open us a door,” he said. ”Gabe, stay out of the way and don’t play with your Grace.” Then he straightened his back and dropped his shoulders, standing with his legs slightly apart, his brown-stained wings relaxed but ready. Beside him, Sam did the same and despite himself, Gabriel realized he’d straightened as well. ”Let’s get this show on the road.”

He drew a sigil in the air and muttered a phrase in Enochian under his breath. The sigil hung in the air for a short moment and then sank into the writhing surface, shimmered for a moment, and then widened into a narrow passageway. Dean glanced at Gabriel, beckoned with his head, and went through.

It felt a bit like pushing through honey. Gabriel knew the feeling because he’d once attended a…gathering of a peculiar kind, although this felt nowhere near as nice. It was slightly repulsive and slimy while at the same time it almost felt like it drew all the moisture out from him and left a brittle taste of ash in his mouth. When he finally made it to the other side, Dean was waiting for him, wings tense and eyes sharp. Sam was out right at his heels and closed the doorway with another sigil. And then they were off.

He followed Dean’s lead walking carefully on, stopping when Dean raised a hand and moving on when he beckoned. The landscape around them reminded him of the time when he’d taken a holiday amongst the humans and ended up witnessing a volcanic eruption: plumes of grey smoke filled the air and the ground was brittle brown-and-black. Here and there, piles of rocks forced them to take detours that seemed to force them back to where they’d come from and it didn’t take Gabriel long to lose his sense of direction.

When they reached their destination, Dean stopped and grouched. Nothing around them indicated a thing of where the Gardener had come from but the Peak part was more than obvious: in front of them rose a jagged cluster of rocks, more like a mountain with a ledge overlooking the shadowed grounds below. It looked foreboding and menacing.

”I’ll go take a look, wait here,” Dean said and darted forward before they could react. Sam swore under his breath but stayed put, hovering near Gabriel. He thought it was kind of endearing, considering he was the third most powerful angel of all creation. But it was the thought that counted, right? He snuck a glance at Sam’s profile—which was a very nice profile indeed—and saw the look on his face as he realized something was wrong.

It wasn’t a nest. It was a fucking army and, as Sam and Dean were busy fighting, Gabriel realized it was led by a nothing less than a Prince of Hell. As good as the brothers were, they were no match for him even if they weren’t currently swarmed by dozens and dozens of demons. So, he took a last, fleeting glance at Dean and Sam’s synchronized, fascinating (and incredibly hot) deadly dance and started sneaking up at the head honcho. Border being wonky and all, he still managed to fiddle with his Grace enough to cover his presence and the Prince didn’t spot him until he was almost at a touching distance.

”What are you doing here, butterfly?” The Prince asked with a sneering rumble that sounded like a volcano in mortal pain.

Gabriel shrugged. ”Sightseeing,” he said airily. ”What are you doing here?”

”Watching you die,” the demon said and, out of nowhere, dark, oily smoke rose like tentacles and tried to swallow Gabriel whole.

He hummed and knocked the tentacles aside. ”I don’t think so,” he said and cocked his head. 

The Prince narrowed his eyes and gave him a calculating look. Then he snapped his finger and the middle of the fight, Dean let out an agonized scream and plummeted down, hitting the ground with a sick thud.

”What the fuck did you just do?” Gabriel asked in a low voice.

The Prince’s lips drew into a smile that was too way wide to his face. Slowly, he pointed his finger at Gabriel and, with searing pain, several of the primaries on his right wing ripped free. Lucky for him, he had more than one set of wings which he snapped out with a crackle of thunder.

”Eat shit and die,” he growled and reached deep within his Grace, drawing out his archangel sword. It was old magic, only possible for the oldest of their ranks, this flaming scepter forged of his Grace and fuelled by his fury. 

The Prince of Hell breathed in with a hiss and unveiled his own sword, burning with the flames of Hell itself. They clashed with an impact that reverberated through the air and knocked down everyone around them. Gabriel, in no mood for fancy dancing, advanced with a single-minded fury, his only goal to end this demon, Prince or not. He also didn’t have time for more than brute strength because Dean was grounded and the bothers were fighting for their lives.

Princes of Hell are their own kind of demons. They are the generals of the demon armies, outranked only by Alastair, Lilith, and Lucifer himself. Regular angels, even as well-trained as Sam and Dean, are no match for them. Gabriel knew he didn’t have the technical skills to outmatch the Prince but he sure as fuck had the power to defeat him. He drew on his Voice and called out in Enochian, ”Shield yourselves!” And then, well, he went nuclear. But only a little, because even shielded with their own Grace, the brothers were just as vulnerable to the burning power of angel’s Grace as the demons.

His Grace burst out of him like a concentrated beam of the sun, blasting the Prince on the chest. He let out a garbled roar and tried to fight back but Gabriel snarled back at him and flew forward, driving his sword through the Prince’s heart. For a split moment, everything went silent, and then a mighty power surge threw him on his back.

”Well, that was unpleasant,” Gabriel said and shook his head to get the ringing out of his ears. He pushed himself to stand up and turned around—and faced the rest of the army, royally (ha!) pissed off about the untimely passing of their Prince.

”Okay, no, we’re leaving this party,” Gabriel groaned. He appeared beside the brothers and projected his Grace around them in a protective halo, wincing at the way it writhed and snapped, unwilling to obey him. ”Pick him up,” he snapped at Sam. ”I’ll get us to the door.”

Sam nodded, picked up his and Dean’s swords, and then gently gathered his brother in his arms. Gabriel winced at the sight of Dean’s bloody and torn wing but there was nothing he could do about it now. He stepped next to Sam, hugged both brothers close, and reappeared next to the doorway. After Sam opened the door, they hurried back through the passage and stumbled to the other side, scrambling to close the doorway behind them. And not a moment too soon: as Gabriel watched, a massive black swarm swelled on the other side of the writhing Barrier.

”What the hell just happened?” Sam asked in a tight voice as he lowered Dean to the ground.

”Funny you should ask that,” Gabriel said brightly. ”Because that was a Prince of Hell.”

***

Neither brother protested when Gabriel transported them back to the house even though it left him slightly unsettled in a way he hadn’t been in eons. They barely made it into the hallway when they were confronted by a distraught Castiel. His eyes took in Dean’s wing and his whole frame went tight in a way that Gabriel had never seen. 

”It was a what?” Castiel asked in a deceptively level voice, interrupting Sam.

”A Prince of Hell,” Sam repeated tightly. ”We wouldn’t have made it out without Gabriel.”

”And the reason you went there in the first place?”

Before Sam had the chance to answer, Den snapped, ”Because I wanted to check the place. And would you fucking look at me?”

Castiel’s eyes slid over Gabriel as he turned and he shivered at the dark look in them. 

”Excuse me?”

Dean jutted his chin. ”Don’t try to put this on Sammy,” he said, cold and furious. ”I’m the older brother, I make the calls. So if you want to yell at someone, yell at me. And look me in the eye when you do that!”

”As an alpha, he’s—”

”Don’t go there, Cas. Don’t you fucking dare.”

”—supposed to protect you and keep you safe—”

”Oh, come on!” Dean yelled, throwing his arms in the air. ”This is our job, this is what we do. Hunting things, saving people, the family business—”

”No!” Castiel shouted. ”Not like this! Not my family.”

Dean jerked back like he’d been slapped and a stricken look flickered across his face. It meant nothing to Gabriel but by the horrified widening of Castiel’s eyes, he definitely knew what it meant.

”Dean—”

”You know what? Fuck you, Castiel,” Dean snarled and whirled around, marching out of the hallway.

Castiel moved to follow but stopped short when Sam stepped in front of him.

”Step aside, Sam,” Castiel said in a low voice.

”No,” the younger Dominant said calmly.

Gabriel’s eyes went wide as all Castiel’s wings unfurled and the air crackled with Grace.

”Move.”

Sam’s steel grey wings, as massive as they were, looked puny compared to Castiel’s multiple sets of deep blue archangel wings but they never trembled. ”No,” he repeated. ”You made a promise to him and you made a promise to me. Are you going to break them both tonight?”

Never in his life had Gabriel seen his brother that torn. He was furious, trembling with it, but at the same time, he was desperate to go after his mate. After what seemed like an eternity, he closed his eyes and visibly reined himself in, folded his wings, and…wilted. ”I apologize,” he said in a hoarse whisper. ”That was inappropriate of me.”

Sam sighed and lowered his wings. ”It’s okay. I get it. Dean’s a handful and usually I’d let you handle it but this…let’s just say this hit a lot closer to home than I’d like.”

Without looking up, Castiel nodded. ”I understand. I—I will be in the garden if he wants to talk later.” As he turned to go, Gabriel spied a glimpse of the look in his eyes and…the sheer agony he witnessed gut him to the core. 

And then the hallway was silent, just the two of them left. Sam heaved a deep breath and his wings drooped and, well, honestly, all this was just too much. 

Gabriel whistled and grinned. ”Phew! That was a stirring display of alpha posturing. Truly a wonderful performance.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just gave him a serious look that seemed…disappointed.

”After today’s show, I’m confident to proclaim you as the Alpha Dominant of the house. Congratulations!” He continued with a flourish, fully expecting at least an eye-roll.  His grin dried up when Sam still didn’t say anything but just turned to leave. ”Oh, come on, it was just a joke!” He exclaimed, exasperated.

Sam stopped and slowly turned to face him. ”Then tell me, Gabriel, who’s laughing?” He asked softly. When Gabriel didn’t answer, Sam just shook his head and slowly started up the stairs.

Gabriel was left standing in the middle of the hallway with an uncomfortable feeling that the thing he’d just witnessed was something more than a mere blow-out and despite his good intentions, he’d had a hand in it.

He also realized that if he never saw that disappointed look in Sam’s eyes, it would be too soon.

***

After cleaning himself with a flick of his Grace, Gabriel found Castiel sitting on a bench in the garden, holding one green feather and staring at the shimmering Border with unblinking eyes. He sat beside him and kept silent, waiting.

”Do you know what makes a good Dominant?” Castiel asked quietly after some while without looking at him. ”Because I feel like I do not. Not anymore.”

Gabriel didn’t know what to say so he, uncharacteristically, said nothing.

Castiel sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. ”When we mated…when Dean agreed to be my mate, I promised him I would never forbid him from working. His job is his life and what defines him, shapes him, makes him who he is. It was one of the two conditions he set. And today I—” He choked up and gripped the feather so hard it bent. ”I cannot lose him, Gabriel,” he whispered. ”I cannot.” 

As Castiel raised his head and looked at Gabriel, he barely managed to stifle a gasp at the raging emotion he saw in his brother’s eyes. How he’d ever thought Castiel as cold, he had no idea, because this Dominant sitting beside him was a maelstrom of emotion so intense he was barely holding it together. It made him uncomfortable but he also felt for his brother. It was more than obvious that the two loved each other deeply, they just were shit at communicating. 

”May I speak with your mate?”

Castiel frowned. ”You do not need my permission to speak with Dean. In fact, you have never bothered with my permission to speak—or do—anything you liked.”

Gabriel gave him a pointed look and tried again. ”No, I meant, may I speak with your mate, Dominant?”

Castiel stared at him for a moment and then the frown smoothed away. ”Ah. Yes. You have my permission. Please, tell him—”

”Um, nope. I’m not acting as your apology messenger, that’s all on you, Cassie. But I’m gonna go and tell him why you acted like an ass.” He stood up and gripped his brother’s shoulder tightly and smiled grimly as Castiel closed his eyes and raised his hand to cover Gabriel’s.

”Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel said.

”Uh, yeah, sure, brother.” He patted Castiel’s shoulder a couple of times and then fled to the house.

In the time he’d spent there, he’d learned that when Dean was upset, he was either in the training hall or in the kitchen. When he didn’t find him in the kitchen, he turned and made his way into the training hall and yep, there he was.

Dean was still clad in his hunting gear, wings dusted brown, and blood spattered across his torso. His left wing was partially unfurled and held stiffly and it was more than obvious that he was hurting. He was boxing and by the look of his fists, had been since he’d stormed out of the hallway.

”Not in the mood, Sammy,” he growled as Gabriel walked in.

”Not Sam and you’re done,” he answered. ”Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean whirled around, a thunderous look on his face. ”Still not in the mood.”

”Not interested,” Gabriel replied calmly. ”And if you think I won’t bind you and zap you into a bathtub with your clothes on, you’re wrong.”

”Fuck you.”

He hummed and pretended to think about it. ”No thank you. I don’t mind the occasional tryst with another sub but first, you’re mated and second, my brother is ridiculously in love with you. Also, you’re not my type.”

Dean went silent and sullen at the mention of Castiel and Gabriel grabbed the opportunity and transfer them into his bathroom. ”Strip,” he ordered and started the bath. 

Wordlessly, they worked over his wings, getting all the dust and blood out. Dean hissed as the water hit the tender flesh where his primaries had been ripped off and Gabriel soothed the sting with his Grace. He couldn’t replace the torn primaries because every angel’s wings were a manifestation of their Grace but he could help with the pain. When the wings were taken care of, he nodded at the bundle of clothes on the bench and turned around to let Dean get dressed without him watching. 

”You know, when I was growing up, I was sure Cassie would present as a neutral. Or stay unpresented, although I know that doesn’t happen,” he said mildly as he started cleaning up Dean’s knuckles. They were bloody and bruised, a clear sign of how Dean had felt after the blow-up earlier. Dean grunted but didn’t say anything so Gabriel took it as a sign that he was listening. ”He was always very calm and collected, didn’t show much of what he was thinking. I know other people thought him cold and distant and most people he ever interacted with thought he was just plain rude. But that’s not what he is. And I know you know that.”

Dean tried to yank his hands free but Gabriel bound him with his Grace, wrapping him in a gentle but firm grip. ”There’s a very distraught Dominant in that garden of yours, terrified you’ll either die on him or you’ll leave him because, in his worry, he expressed his fear in less than stellar way.”

Dean frowned and stared mulishly at his bloodied knuckles, gritting his jaw so hard Gabriel was afraid he’d crack a molar.

”I’m not saying he wasn’t a dick because he clearly was. And he knows he fucked up—”

”Did he send you to apologize for him?” Dean asked.

”Ha, I told him to suck it up and apologize himself. But I did formally ask him permission to talk to you which is why I can say this: I’ve never in my life seen him so scared. You are his purpose, all of you. Not just parts but the whole that makes you you. And that is where his words came from.”

He released Dean and leaned back. ”There. My job’s done. Phew, emotions.”

Dean rolled his eyes and snorted but his shoulders were relaxed and his wings, while still stiff  and tender, weren’t poised for flight.

”How do you do it?” He asked after a moment.

”Do what?” Gabriel asked.

”Make it alone. Unmated. You’re older than I and…” Dean’s voice trailed away.

Gabriel hummed. ”You’re wondering why I haven’t gone insane yet. Honestly, I sometimes wonder the same.” He shrugged and turned to clean up the mess they’d made. ”Archangel powers come with certain advantages but tricks and spells only work so far. When push comes to shove, I’m still just as vulnerable as any other submissive. Sure, having Dominant archangel brothers is also a plus but Cassie was the only one willing to help me. Ah, no, not like that,” he hurried to say as Dean let out a slightly strangled sound. ”Just…caging me. That’s all. But that only worked for as long as Iet him and I usually…didn’t.” He turned around and shot Dean a grin that was all teeth. ”I won’t kneel. To anyone. Period.”

”So, what are you gonna do?” 

”No freaking idea. The sucky thing about being a submissive archangel of this status is that the only two Dominants more powerful than I are my older brothers. So the traditional dynamics just won’t work because there isn’t a Dominant in this or any other realm who could cage me,” he finished with a wry grin.

”Well, that sucks,” Dean said.

”Yeah. But I’m not going to sit around and waiting for the insanity to creep in. Although considering I’m here, it might’ve already started.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gave him a finger before he stood up and shook his wings, effectively drenching Gabriel.

”You ass! Thanks a lot,” he yelped, wiping water from his face.

”You’re welcome,” Dean chuckled and made his way to the door. ”Also, if you’re planning on staying, ask Sam to teach you how to fight. And I mean fight, not cheat with Grace every possible turn.”

”It’s called practicality,” Gabriel said.

”You got that word confused. I think the word you actually were looking for was ’lazy’,” Dean called before he closed the door behind him.

***

So, okay. Learning how to fight. 

Gabriel stood in the training hall and stared at the assorted weapons neatly organized on the wall and pursed his lips. Thing was, he did know how to fight, sort of. All archangels were required to learn how but that was with the Grace sword. It was pretty much an extension of their essence and fighting was more or less about whose Grace out-powered who. It was nothing like the deadly dance the Winchester brothers were so good at.

”Gabriel,” Sam said from behind him, surprised. ”What are you doing here?”

”I’m a guest here, remember?” He quipped back but when Sam barely raised one brow, he deflated and said, ”If I’m going to be around, I should learn how to fight like you.”

The Dominant gave him an appraising look. ”You do realize that fighting like us means not using your Grace whenever you like?”

”Yes?”

Sam looked at him for so long Gabriel started feeling fidgety and then he said, ”Fine.” He turned, took two swords, and tossed the other at Gabriel who fumbled to catch it. ”Try to hit me.”

Gabriel tried. And failed.

Sam parried his attempts with an almost bored air, smacked his sword to the floor, and said, ”Again.”

And Gabriel tried again and failed again. He grew steadily more tired and frustrated, his attempts clumsier, and all the while Sam kept the same, calm face on, deflected his advances, and said, ”Again.” He even had his other hand behind his back, the smug son-of-a-bitch!

His shirt grew gradually wet and his eyes burned from the sweat that trickled down his forehead. After yet another failure that earned him a smack on the ass with the flat side of Sam’s sword, he hissed and threw Sam across the room with a flick of his wrist.

Calmly, the Dominant stood up, set the sword in its proper place, and walked out.

Gabriel stood in place, breathing heavily with a bitter taste in his mouth.

***

He returned to the training hall the next day and told himself he wasn’t disappointed to find the room empty. Instead of moping, he picked up a sword and started running through the simple exercises he remembered from his fledgling days. He sunk into the movements, completely oblivious of the Dominant who stopped to watch him.

***

Slowly, day by day, it became a thing. He woke up at a surprisingly early hour, went to the training hall to get an hour or two under his belt, and after cleaning up, went to breakfast. If they were needed at the Border, the brothers were usually gone all morning, returning in the afternoon or by the evening, depending on where they patrolled. The tension between Castiel and Dean wasn’t all gone but they were clearly working through their issues if the smell of satisfaction and the bruises on oh, both on their throats were something to go by.

And several times a week, Sam trained with him. It had taken him quite a lot of internal debating before he’d decided to swallow his pride and ask him again.

”Just to make this clear, I’ll walk out if you cheat,” Sam said.

”I won’t,” he insisted.

”We’ll see about that,” Sam said with a raised brow and just because of that, Gabriel decided to prove him wrong. 

Yes, it was because of that condescending brow. Not because Gabriel wanted to prove himself or because of the easy, almost relaxed way Sam disarmed him every damn time was hot. Or the way he started to lose his breath the better Gabriel became. Or the way his wings flexed when they finally made it to the more complicated moves that utilized the whole hall, not just the floor. Or…

Oh, who was he kidding? It was just Sam.

One day, after three hours of sparring, Sam disarmed him mid-flight with an elaborate backward flip and slammed him against the wall before Gabriel even had time to realize what had happened. They stayed there for a tense moment, both breathing heavily, and then two things hit him at the same time.

One, they both were hard.

Two, his wing glands were throbbing, preparing him to mate.

It shocked him enough that he went limp and the way the Dominant pressed closer made his glands throb even more. Out of instinct and partially just because of sheer curiosity, he tilted his head in submission, reveling in the way it made Sam shiver. He held his breath in anticipation and—

Then Sam gently set them both down and backed away. Gabriel let out an outraged sound and turned, and the way Sam looked both rattled and stern made his heart leap.

”This isn’t a joke, Gabriel,” Sam said.

”I—what?”

The Dominant’s lips pressed together in a tight line and he nodded stiffly before leaving the room. It seemed slightly hasty but that was perhaps just Gabriel’s painfully hard cock talking so what would he know. But he couldn’t deny he was intrigued and slightly apprehensive as well.

Thing was, Sam didn’t outmatch him, not if they battled with Grace. There simply were no Dominants who were more powerful than him without being his immediate family. None. He’d known since he’d presented that there never would be a Dominant who could outpower him. But there were other ways to show him his place and that was what Sam had been doing for weeks now. His skills on the battlefield were only outmatched by his big brother and Sam was the first to admit it. He knew what he was good at and that confidence did things to Gabriel’s insides and, apparently, his outsides too.

So, now the question was, what next?

Their short romp at the Ball had been simply delightful and also served as a taster of things to come. Back at the Ball, Sam had let Gabriel push him around and take his pleasure as he wanted but the mere thought of letting his bigger frame push him to the ground made a delicious shiver run down his spine. Also, Sam had a great ass and a thick, big cock, both things Gabriel appreciated.

The thing Gabriel liked perhaps the most was how unflappable Sam was around him. Sure, back when they’d first met, he’d been flustered for a short moment before he’d realized what Gabriel had been after but ever since? Calm. Not like Castiel who was like a fortress in his seeming detachment but like a rock in the ocean who let the waves crash and turn around him, just waiting. He had a feeling that it was mostly because of Dean: Sam probably wouldn’t have made it into adulthood without getting an aneurysm if he hadn’t adapted to his big brother’s ways.

And because Sam was unflappable, Gabriel felt secure around him. He was an ass and he knew he could be an ass because Sam didn’t give a fuck about his archangel status and he’d made it clear dozens of times. He also had no qualms of calling him out on his stupid stunts, also something he’d made clear dozens of times. And he had restraint. Which he’d made clear only moments earlier, walking away from a situation where a submissive had pretty much offered himself to a Dominant.

”Aw, shit,” Gabriel muttered and drew his hand through his sweaty hair. He’d pretty much decided he wanted Sam. Now he just had to hunt the Dominant down.

He didn’t bother with getting cleaned up. He was sweaty and aroused and he already had Sam’s scent on him. He’d get them both more messy soon. So, without further ado, he hurried out of the training hall only to nearly collide with Dean.

”Out!” He yelped. ”Out, out, out! This is a respectable house! You go do your thing outside!” 

Gabriel gaped at Dean’s words before he saw the mischievous going in the other submissive’s eyes. ”He’s in the garden,” Dean said and shooed him. ”Go get him!”

Gabriel threw a hasty thanks over his shoulder and barely registered the chuckle that trailed after him.

Garden…garden…garden… Gabriel growled as he ran outside, the Dominant nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he took flight and when he finally saw the other, he took a beeline to him. The Dominant was waiting in the remote corner, the part which wasn’t visible from the house, and barely raised a brow when Gabriel landed in front of him and poked him on the chest.

”What made you think it was a joke?” He asked, slightly out of breath.

”It’s always a joke with you, isn’t it?” Sam replied and neatly sidestepped another attempt to poke him. 

Gabriel scowled. ”No, it isn’t,” he said and tried to grab Sam.

The Dominant evaded him easily and delivered a series of light hits that drove Gabriel back. ”Really? Prove it.”

He slapped the arm away and said, ”I thought I’ve been proving it for weeks now.”

”Hm,” Sam answered and swept his feet under him in a fluid move and in a flash, had him pressed to the ground. ”I have to say I’m not that impressed,” he said and jumped up.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. Something was up. The Dominant had a strange glint in his eye and he was…he was…something. It frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t quite read what Sam was doing. So he tried to take him down again. He managed to tackle him once but in a mighty heave of his wings, Sam turned them around and it was Gabriel pinned, again.

The longer they grappled, the more obvious it became that Sam wasn’t even trying to pin him with his Grace cage. Gabriel found himself both annoyed and glad: glad because they both knew Sam was no match for him and annoyed because the Dominant didn’t even bother to try! For Heaven’s sake, he could even try to make an effort for the appearances even if he knew Gabriel could dissolve it with a mere thought.

The momentary distraction was all it took for Sam to flip him and press his chest to the ground. He felt deliciously vulnerable like this, pinned and his primary wings splayed open. It was titillating even though he knew he could get free without a problem. Except that when he tried, he couldn’t.

He was pinned.

”What did you do?” He whispered, awed, intrigued, and so, so turned on.

”Can’t you tell?” The Dominant purred into his ear.

Gabriel concentrated on the feel of the Grace pinning him to the ground. It felt weird, like his own but it was somehow not responding to him. Almost like the Grace itself was tethered somewhere, to someone… He let out a breathless laugh. ”Oh, you clever, clever angel,” he murmured.

Sam was still on top of him, his bulk a delicious weight on the back of his thighs, his cock hard against the cleft of his ass, and his hand a steady press against his back, just shy from the roots of his wings. Gabriel shimmied, just a little, pleased with himself as Sam’s breath stuttered.

”What do you want, Gabriel?” Sam asked, low, serious. 

And this was perhaps what Gabriel liked the most. Even though Sam had bested him and managed to pin him down, he didn’t just assume. He didn’t ask Gabriel to kneel because somehow, he knew Gabriel would never do that. No, he asked what Gabriel wanted, he let him choose.

”You,” Gabriel answered. His Grace was slightly sluggish to answer but he got rid of his clothes, spread his wings even more, and arched his back. He knew what a picture he was and he knew exactly what it did to the Dominant when he ordered, ”Mate me, Sam.”

The Dominant growled and the next thing Gabriel knew was the feel of Sam’s hard, hot cock dragging on the small of his back as he reached up to card his fingers through Gabriel’s wings. He let out a moan as the Dominant’s fingers brushed his swollen mating glands and bucked, but it did nothing to dislodge the weight from his back. Of course he knew that if he wanted, he could break free any time but he…liked this, the feel of not being in control. He’d experimented with it only a couple of times but never with a male. 

Never like this.

”I’m clearly doing something wrong if you’re still thinking that loud,” Sam grumbled and the next thing he knew was a solid weight along his whole body and then his mind exploded in a million, brilliant, excruciating colors as Sam’s mouth closed on the swollen mating gland on his right wing and he came, screaming, without a warning. He barely managed to catch his breath and get his bearing before the Dominant did the same on his left wing and it happened again, except that this time, the brilliance ripped out of him in a blinding halo.

He came back to some while later, or the next day, or the next millennia, or… The Dominant—his—was still a comforting weight on top of him, his hand sweeping gently up and down his flank. 

”Back with me?” His Dominant asked, laughing softly as all Gabriel managed was a slurred affirmative. 

Gabriel realized his Grace was free again, the cage around him gone. It was a distant thought, swimming lazily across his consciousness as his whole being hummed with both satisfaction and the mounting tension of things yet to come. He shifted his legs a bit, unable to do more because of the weight still on them. His Dominant seemed to know what he wanted, though, and lifted his weight slightly, allowing Gabriel to open his legs wide.

His Dominant let out a pleased growl and a moment later, he felt the pressure of thick, slick fingers pressing in. He ground back at the intrusion, riding the pleasure tinged with the slightest bit of pain. He was impatient but so was his Dominant because only a short moment later, a thick, hot cock pressed against his hole and wide, big hands gripped his hips like a brand. He let out a low groan and went lax in Sam’s hold, breathing through the seemingly endless, torturously slow drag of the cock pressing in and in and in until he felt he was bursting with it. Sam rested his forehead against the nape of his neck, his breathing labored and his heart thrumming wildly in Gabriel’s ears.

”Move,” he growled and the Dominant did.

He lost himself in the feeling, of the pressure and drag, push and pull, the unbelievable fullness. His wings were already heavy with oil and even though he sort of knew what to expect, the exquisite, searing, painpleasuremeyouextacyUS that hit him when their mating oils merged was nothing and absolutely everything he didn’t know he’d been looking for his whole life. 

A split moment of weightlessness and then he felt Sam’s—his Dominant’s, his his his—push even deeper and then he pulled Gabriel to his lap. His head lolled against Sam’s shoulder and his wings reached out to mesh with Sam’s and then there was nothing more he could do but to blindly grip Sam’s hand pressed against his heart and reach out with his other hand to drag his—his his HIS—Dominant to a kiss. And when he felt his Dominant’s Grace reach out to him for the first time like this, open, inviting, waiting, it felt as natural as breathing to reach out to him and twine them together.

As they came, they flared brightly like a star, breathless, laughing.

Later, Sam didn’t resist as Gabriel knocked him on his back and turned to face him, his cock still nestled snugly inside.

”How the Hell did you know how to do that?” He asked, still slightly breathless.

Sam grinned back, smug, relaxed, gorgeous. ”I didn’t. I asked your brother.”

”You did what now?”

Sam’s smile turned smaller, somehow more tender and soft. ”Your brother is just as important to you as mine is to me. I know you aren’t as traditional as Castiel but I wanted to do this right. I’ve always known I’m no match to your Grace but perhaps I could outmaneuver you some other way.” 

”You tricked me!” Gabriel gasped, delighted. If someone had told him eons ago that he’d end up mated with a significantly younger Dominant who managed to find the information how to subtly bind his Grace with his own and anchor it to the land…well, he would’ve thought them mad.

”I figured you’d appreciate the approach,” Sam said his eyes twinkling.

”Oh, I appreciate it very much indeed,” he purred and gyrated his hips slowly, grinning wolfishly as Sam gasped and started growing hard inside him again. ”Also, my Grace burned the bushes we were hiding behind. Just to let you know.”

Sam turned his head to glance at the house now visible a small distance away and then looked back at Gabriel, raising a brow. ”Do you mind?” He asked, a clear challenge in his eyes.

”Not at all,” Gabriel said. ”Not even a bit.” As he started moving in earnest, he snapped out all his wings, enjoying the way Sam’s pupils went wide with lust. ”Next, I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll forget everything else but how I feel around you and then, then I’m going to mount you until you scream.”

Sam let out a choked noise that was pure want and Gabriel threw his head back, laughing. Oh, being mated was going to be glorious.

Castiel watched from the balcony at the corner of the garden that until today, had been a lush maze of bushes. Now it was burned clear and the bushes gone, and the newly mated paid perfectly visible as they dozed, cocooned in their wings. Sam’s steel grey complimented Gabriel’s multiple sets of golden brown wings and their intertwined Graces formed an intricate pattern that wove in and out of their wings and sank into the ground under them. Their mating would strengthen the Edge and make the building a veritable fortress—not that it would need to be one, considering it now housed not one but two archangels.

He was happy for his brother. In Sam, he’d found perhaps the only Dominant in the realm capable of dealing with him. Gabriel was a brat and would stay as one, and nothing Sam did would make him less so. But there was something in Sam, a core of iron and a will to match that would help keep Gabriel grounded. Sam had had a great teacher in Dean and the experience had molded him into a Dominant who knew what fights he could win and which hill wasn’t worth dying on. He was sharp, cunning, and funny, all qualities Gabriel favored far more than brute strength. Especially considering that he’d come to Castiel to learn how to trick Gabriel’s Grace to respond to his own, something even Castiel had never believed he’d dare to do.

”Done watching them?” Dean asked from the doorway.

Castiel glanced up and did a double-take. Dean was naked, his arms casually crossed on his chest and his wings relaxed. The setting sun painted him golden and made his green wings sparkle and he was so beautiful it took Castiel’s breath away. His wings snapped open and he growled in appreciation as Dean’s eyes blew wide and his lips parted at the display. He stalked forward, enjoying how his submissive looked at him, how he smelled of arousal as his cock filled, and how he sighed into the kiss when Castiel claimed his mouth.

”Do you want me to have you here?” He rumbled, gripping Dean’s neck.

”I really don’t care,” Dean breathed out and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they held a mischievous glint that made Castiel shiver. ”But you gotta catch me first.” With that, Dean ducked and rolled, smacking Castiel right in the face with his wings and, with a peal of laughter, he was gone.

Castiel lost his clothes with a flick of his Grace. ”If that is how you want this to go,” he growled. Eyes lit up and a predatory grin on his face, the Dominant bolted.

He had a mate to chase.