whiskygalore: (Jensen 2)
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Castiel wakes alone in his room, heart pounding out a frantic beat and a thrum of wrongness crawling across his skin. The distance between him and Dean is too great. He can taste the sweetness of his omega on his lips, the scent of Dean in his nose, swirling down his throat, seeping into his blood. He didn't realize this is what it would be like. Longing and craving. A protective possessiveness demanding that he not let Dean out of his sight.

Somewhere, at some point in the past few days, his life has been blown apart. The steady ground beneath his feet splintering away sending him spiraling into a glorious new world of possibilities. Of hope. And love.

A week ago he thought he was marrying for his country. A political marriage of convenience. One that, at best, was tolerable because it was to a man that he'd once called a friend. Now, today, he doesn't care about politics or even his country. All he wants is to marry the man he loves. In the most basic way possible he wants to lay claim to his mate, his omega. He doesn't want another alpha to touch Dean, to think he has any right to touch him, ever again.

It's not about ownership. Or maybe it is. But ownership that works both ways. Castiel wants to belong to Dean as much as he wants Dean to belong to him. Castiel wants Dean in every way possible, wants to bind their lives together irrevocably. And Dean, well....Castiel thinks he feels the same way. Prays that his desire goes deeper than pheromones and biology.

Last night, they'd had to be pried apart. Castiel wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around Dean and soak up his changing scent. Dean for his part had clung to Castiel as though his life depended on feeling Castiel's skin next to his. Doc Turner had issued sedatives and ordered separation and sleep. Bedroom doors had been locked from the outside and even more guards posted in the hallways than usual.

Castiel thought he might go mad.

Today, at last, he marries Dean. Officially sealing their union. Sealing the fate of their countries.

The ceremony is going to take place in Lawrence Cathedral, with the full pomp and circumstance that a wedding between two royal princes deserves. Certain guests from Heaven may well be expecting Castiel to claim his omega prince as Heaven's traditions dictate, with vows to control, shelter and discipline from Castiel and promises of submission, obedience and servitude from Dean. They'll expect to see Dean paraded past them in ceremonial white robes like a sacrificial lamb, before he strips naked and kneels at Castiel's feet. They'll expect to see that Castiel's brand has been seared into Dean’s flesh, a visible indisputable mark of ownership. They'll expect to see Dean collared and leashed like a pet dog. Publically humiliated one last time.

Those assbutts are going to disappointed. Castiel smirks to himself, and yes maybe a little bit of Dean's attitude is rubbing off on him.

The ceremony is set for three in the afternoon, leaving Castiel plenty of time to prepare. And a lot of time to worry. He almost jumps on Gadreel when the soldier brings him breakfast, demanding news of Dean. There's a hint of amusement in Gadreel's eyes when he relays information from Doc Rufus that Dean is awake, demanding Cas, coffee and fresh underwear - Castiel wonders where he actually came in that pecking order, presumably below coffee, but hopefully above underwear. Gadreel recites dryly, making it clear they are not his words, that Dean is just as impatient, smart-mouthed and pigheaded as normal. That sounds so much like Dean that Castiel actually smiles.

The royal tailors are next to knock at the door, delivering Castiel's suit and patent leather shoes. The only news they can tell him about Dean is that they spent all night on the alterations to his wedding outfit. Dean's new slim-line physique displeasing them almost as much as Dean.

King John visits him shortly after and a little later Sam appears accompanied by two friends, Jo and Charlie, who both apparently need to meet Castiel in order to issue dire threats to his health if he doesn't take care of Dean. Sam rolls his eyes and sniggers, but Castiel recognizes Jo as the blond haired wildcat that kicked seven bells out of Christian Campbell so he takes the threats as seriously as they are intended. Lord Robert drops in to see him next and then Castiel's father appears at the door. In fact Castiel barely spends a moment alone, and he suspects that Dean has a similar rotation of visitors keeping him occupied. At least they all confirm that Dean is doing well and the wedding arrangements are in place. Castiel thought his father might have some complaints, but the king has accepted Castiel's decisions without demur. Zachariah's deceptions have shaken him to the core. Made him question every decision and judgement he's made. Especially those concerning omegas, in particular his omega son. Castiel suspects his father will have a troubled conscience until he finds some way to atone for his actions.


Gadreel knocks on his door when it's time to leave for the cathedral, and Castiel looks in the mirror one last time to make sure his tie is straight. He has to admit that he looks, as his mother would say, dapper. Morning suits are definitely not his usual attire, but this one is cut beautifully; dark grey and made of the finest wool which drapes perfectly. His waistcoat is stunning; ivory with intricate embroidery in the same blue as his neck tie, and as the tailor had simpered, his eyes. Even his hair seems to be under control for once, although that might change by the time they drive to the cathedral.

Castiel sits in the back of the limousine with his father, a plain black police sedan bursting with security personal leading them, and another trailing close behind. Crowds line the streets, curious to see the two princes on their wedding day. The Winchester newspapers are mainly ignoring the fact that the wedding is supposedly more about politics than love. They're taking the opportunity to celebrate the end of a war with feel-good stories about two handsome princes joining together to usher them into a peaceful future. Someone even managed to dig up photos of Castiel and Dean together when they were children, leading to sentimental stories of them being childhood sweethearts. That's not exactly true, but at least the positive spin the press are pushing has turned the people of Winchester's previously ugly mood into something a little more positive. The lack of rotten vegetables splattering against Castiel's limousine is proof of that.

"Castiel," King Charles lays his hand on Castiel's forearm as the car draws smoothly to a halt. "I want you to know how proud I am of you."

Castiel swallows and tries to look the king in the eye. He's never heard his father say those words before, not once.

"You're a good man. Better than I. Fair and kind and courageous."

"I...thank you, father."

"Two years, Castiel. I'm going to abdicate in two years. That will give me long enough to right some of the wrongs I've committed and start the country on the route to change. And it will give you and Dean time to settle into married life."

"Father, I'm not sure what to say. That's...you can't...you shouldn't step down. There's so much more-"

"I want to step down." The king says firmly. "I'm not getting any younger and I...I believe the country needs someone younger, someone with vision and energy and determination. Heaven needs you, Castiel. You and Dean. Heaven needs you to lead it into a future where everyone has the same rights and advantages and where omegas aren't treated like slaves or...or pets. I've been a poor king, Castiel, a weak one. But you....you will be great."

"Father-"

"Two years, Castiel." The king smiles, almost wistfully, and squeezes Castiel's arm before signaling to the driver that he's about to step out of the limousine. "Make the most of them because then the hard work truly begins." The car door swings open letting in an almighty roar from the crowds surrounding them. The king adds one more thing before he alights from the car. "Oh, and good luck with your omega, I suspect he's going to keep you busy. If there's one man that can prove to Heaven that omegas aren't the weak and feeble creatures they believe them to be, I would say that it's Prince Dean."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Castiel has to sit for a moment and let all that settle in, the noise of the crowd washing over him, a mix of jeers and cheers greeting his father. Deep breaths, three, two, one and then he steps out in his father's footsteps.

Half of Lawrence, the loudest half apparently, seem to have come out to see their prince marry. A mix of police and soldiers form a barrier between the crowd and the invited guests. Castiel is glad for their sake that the weather is glorious. He chances a wave or two to the crowd as he walks up the steps to the cathedral door, relieved when people wave back. A small girl balanced on her father's shoulders, with jumping pig tails and a gap-toothed grin, waves enthusiastically catching her father in the ear as she does. Castiel laughs and waves back, just to her. He hears a few angry chants aimed his way, but on the whole they're drowned out by good-natured cheers.

Castiel walks down the center aisle of the packed cathedral, sunlight streaming through the huge stain-glass windows casting a colorful hue over the proceedings. The congregation is a mix of royalty and VIP's, predominantly from Winchester, Heaven and Hell, although members of royal families from countries further afield have made the journey to be seen here. Castiel notes some familiar faces in the crowd as he walks by. Several of his cousins are here, and members of his father's council. Crowley is seated near the front, his mother by his side. The queen of Hell deigning to make an appearance now that the distasteful part of the ritual is out of the way. Her long waves of auburn hair are lit up like flames in the glow of light streaming through a pane of red stain glass. It's certainly eye catching. As he walks past, something else catches Castiel's eye; Crowley is wearing a kilt. And looking thunderous. "Stop pouting, Fergus. It's traditional." Castiel hears Queen Rowena say, her tart burr carrying across the pews. Castiel arrives at the alter steps snickering in the most undignified way.

Bishop Murphy raises his eyebrow and Castiel feigns a cough to cover his sins.

The wait for Dean's arrival seems interminable, although he probably arrives less than ten minutes after Castiel. That'll please the alphas from Heaven; it's unseemly for an omega to keep his alpha waiting. Castiel can guarantee it's the only thing about this ceremony that will please them.

The roar of approval from outside alerts Castiel to Dean's arrival before he gets the official nod from the bishop, and the organ starts playing the triumphant first notes of the royal wedding march.

Castiel knows he's not supposed to turn around but he's too anxious, too excited, to stop himself. His heart catches in his throat and his knees almost sag when he spots Dean walking proudly down the aisle, his father and brother on either side of him. Lord Benjamin and Sir Cain follow behind as discreetly as is possible for two giant bears of men, their eyes alert and fingers curling anxiously around the handles of their ceremonial swords. Dean's head is held high, his shoulders back and spine parade-attention straight, and even from a distance Castiel can see the spirit in his eyes. The fuck-you defiance in his attitude.

There are gasps echoing through the cathedral, audible even over the rousing organ music. Most of the guests are looking at Dean in slack-jawed awe, but some are staring at him in outraged shock. He's beautiful, there's no question. Even as an alpha he was a stunning man, but now there's something almost ethereal about his features. The green in his eyes is brighter, his cheek bones perfectly defined, his lips plush and so pink that if Castiel didn't know Dean better he'd be sure he was wearing lip gloss. He's dressed, to the obvious disgust of Heaven's staunch traditionalists, in his formal dress blue uniform. Sharply creased wool and perfectly polished leather and brass, rows of medals shining on his chest and a blue sash, almost identical in color to Castiel's neck tie, draping across his chest from shoulder to hip. The tailor's efforts have paid off magnificently. Dean's body may be slighter - less hard lines and more soft curves - but his uniform fits him like a second skin. Castiel struggles to breathe as Dean walks towards him.

King John and Prince Samuel peel away at the front of the pews, Cain and Benny having stopped some way back, leaving Dean to approach Castiel alone. The closer Dean gets, the stronger and more obvious his scent becomes. The sweet ripe scent of almost in-heat omega, more beautiful even than the aroma of the hundreds of roses that decorate the cathedral. Castiel's smelled omegas in heat before. Several alphas in his family own omegas and take great pleasure in parading them around while they are in the first flush of heat, showing how desperate and base omegas are, how dependent they are on their alphas to take care of them. None of them, not a single one compares to the scent of Dean. Castiel inhales deeply as Dean closes the distance between them and instantly a coil of hunger unfurls in his belly. There's a real chance that Castiel won't make it through the service without developing a raging hard-on.

"You're beautiful," he says, as Dean stops beside him, barely recognizing his own voice which has dropped an octave to a deep growl as lust washes through him.

"You don't scrub up too bad yourself, Cas," Dean grins appreciatively. "And you smell fan-fucking-tastic."

"Dean Winchester you'll be polishing the brass candle holders again if you don't watch your language." The bishop says in a hushed whisper.

"Sorry, Jim," Dean winks - winks - at the bishop. "I'll try and behave. Although," he tilts his head and whispers straight in Castiel's ear. "The doc's given me a shot to keep my heat under control, but God Cas, you smell good enough to eat; so, fair warning, if we're not out of here in the next hour I'm gonna ride you right here on the alter."

The service starts with a hymn and Castiel silently reciting the elements of the periodic table in order to talk down his erection. Dean, the infuriating jerk, smirks at his side totally aware of his problem. Castiel is torn between wanting to kick him and kiss him.

The bishop, obviously a friend of Dean's, conducts the ceremony with a welcome mix of humor and solemnity. There's no talk of alpha and omega. Only talk of love and the sacred union of marriage. Of respect, fidelity, devotion and loyalty. Castiel senses a portion of their guests growing restless behind him. When Dean reaches down and squeezes his hand, Castiel doesn't let go.

The moment the bishop asks, loud and clear - his voice carrying through the cathedral like a warning bell - if anyone present has any objections to the marriage, every muscle in Castiel's body coils tight. There's a rumble of discord, coughs and low grumbles, but no-one has the courage to stand up and be the voice of dissension.

The bishop stands for nearly a minute glaring at the congregation until silence descends in the cathedral. Castiel doesn't breathe the entire time.

When it's time to recite the vows there is no obeying, no submitting, and definitely no disciplining, only promises of love and respect. Castiel can't take his eyes away from Dean as he repeats his vows, hoping Dean knows that he means every promise he makes. That he would die rather than let Dean down in any way. Dean's voice develops a tremor as he speaks his own vows, his eyes overcome with a glassy sheen which Dean will later swear blind was not tears.

As the bishop declares them married in the eyes of God and the church, a weight lifts from Castiel's shoulders and a knot of pressure, that he didn't realize was there, eases in his chest. When his lips touch Dean's in their first kiss as married men, a sense of tranquility settles over him. Like the final puzzle piece has just slotted into place and he is finally whole.

Applause starts to echo in the cathedral, rising in volume until the crowds standing outside can surely hear it. Castiel and Dean turn to face their guests hand in hand, matching smiles lighting up their faces. Most of the congregation is on their feet. Most of them. A large section of guests from Heaven remain seated, sullen and even angry. Castiel lifts his chin and stares at them. This, he knows, is only the start of the battle. Even with the obvious support of his father, who is on his feet clapping proudly, too many people in Heaven will fight his plans for reform every step of the way. It’s one battle that Castiel thinks is worth fighting. One war he refuses to lose. And with Dean by his side, he's confident of victory.


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Looking out over the cathedral, Dean can feel waves of animosity creeping towards him. Sure, people are on their feet applauding, his family, friends, people he barely knows apart from names and titles, and Cas by his side is a source of pure love and joy, but still, Dean can see the face of some of his husband's - husband, huh, that's going to take some getting used to - countrymen and they look like they want God to strike Dean down, fry him to a crisp right where he stands.

Dean's not scared, shit no - it takes more than a few dirty looks to upset him, but he is nervous. Cas may have decided to shake up the laws of Heaven, strike a blow for equality and all that, he may even, bizarrely, have his father's blessing, but there are plenty of alphas who will fight tooth and nail to retain the status quo. When you're the top of the food chain, you're not going to just stand by and watch as your superiority is ripped away from under you.

Cas and Dean's union has secured the end of one war, but it's surely signaled the start of another. Dean squeezes Cas's hand, knocking their shoulders together and grins. He always did enjoy a good scrap. Let the self-righteous sons-of-bitches bring it on.

Now, though, now all he wants to do is get out of here and strip Cas out of that sexy-ass suit. Which is what he's been waiting to do since the second he walked into the cathedral and saw him standing on the alter steps, resplendent in his morning dress. He's always thought Cas was gorgeous, but with the sun shining down on him through the church windows, surrounding him in a celestial golden glow, he looked breathtaking. Unworldly. The contrast of his perfectly pressed suit and immaculately shining shoes, against the rebellious mess of his dark hair just made him even more irresistible. And his scent, the closer Dean drew to him, the harder it was to resist the urge to rub himself against Cas and soak in the aroma.

Tugging at Cas's hand, Dean walks down the alter steps; the organ springing to life and belting out a celebratory tune. It's not exactly Zeppelin but at least it's loud.

They don't reach the front pews before Dean spots movement from the corner of his eye. At first he thinks it's nothing. A photographer maybe, or an altar boy. But a second later he catches the brief but definite glimpse of the barrel of a gun. There's no time to think, only to react. He drops Cas's hand and twists his body towards the threat. Steps in front of Cas. Sees Zachariah, face swollen in rage, bearing down on them, the flash as his gun discharges. Dean doesn't stop, doesn't dive out of the way or duck. He charges forward, barreling into Zachariah and knocking him to the ground. Zachariah bucks and yells below him, gripping the gun tight and trying to aim it towards Dean. Dean grabs his wrist, tries to shake the gun free. Cracks Zachariah’s arm on the floor, again and again until finally the gun clatters to the ground and spins away.

"I'll kill you, you jumped up little bitch," Zachariah spits, his eyes slits in his face, his neck almost purple. "You've ruined everything. You and that pathetic wimp."

The satisfaction that Dean feels punching Zachariah in the face is short-lived before he's being dragged off backwards. Benny, Cain and two soldiers dressed in the white dress uniforms of Heaven descend on Zachariah, each of them keen to be the one to drag him away.

The blood is pounding in Dean's ears, adrenalin coursing through his blood, the taste of it bitter on his tongue. He fights off the hands hauling him backwards, wrapping around him from behind and holding him despite Dean's best efforts to rip free.

"Dean! Dean, please, it's over, it's over. It's okay, please let the guards deal with him. Dean, please." Finally, the words cut through the mayhem in his head and he lets the fight drain from his muscles; relaxes back into Cas's arms.

"God, Dean I can't believe you did that. You stupid brave self-sacrificing idiot! What if something had happened to you?" Cas is saying. They're sprawled on the floor, Dean's heart still thundering out a war beat. He's leaning back against Cas's chest, his head almost tucked under his chin, his legs spread out in front of him and Cas's hands wrapped around him holding him steady.

In front of them Zachariah is being wrangled out of the cathedral, kicking and screaming like a toddler in the throes of an epic tantrum. A very dangerous toddler. Around them it sounds as though a riot has broken out. There's uproar in the building, the sound of shouting and screaming echoing under the massive ceilings. Distantly Dean hopes the crowds outside can't hear the furor because God only knows how they'll react to the noise.

"God, Dean, he might have shot you. He could have killed you. What would I have done then? What would I have done without you?" It's at that point, just when Dean thinks they need to get up off the floor, that he needs to calm Cas down and bring some sort of order to the proceedings, that he happens to look down at himself and see the dark patch of blood soaking through the shoulder of his jacket. The wound isn't serious. It's his arm for god’s sake, it's probably just a graze, at worst a clean through and through, it doesn't even hurt. Although, now that he's noticed it, it does sting a little bit. The thing is...Cas's scent is already sour with worry. And there's enough panic unfolding around them without adding to it. And frankly he doesn't want to be the damn fool omega who went and got himself shot.

He decides that if he ignores the fact he's bleeding, no one else will notice either. It's not a great plan, not even a good plan, but it's the best he can come up with on short notice.

"It’s okay, Cas, I'm fine," he smiles reassuringly, fakes casual innocence.

"Dean," Cas sobs, and Dean can feel his husband's chest hitching beneath him.

"Seriously, Cas. I'm fine. Come on, we can't lay around here all day. We've a party to get to and a marriage to consummate." Dean tries to stand, but with Cas's arms locked around his chest it's not so easy. "Cas, come on," Dean urges and finally Cas gets with the plan, pushing up onto his feet and helping Dean up along with him. The transition from horizontal to vertical makes Dean's vision blur for a second, and his stomach flip flop dangerously. It also ramps up the level of pain in his arm from ow-that-stings-a-little to holy-fuck-that-burns-a-heck-of-a-lot. He clasps his hand over the wound and prays that they can at least make it to the car before he needs to disclose his small but bloody problem.

Now that he's on his feet, if not entirely steadily, he can see the scuffles breaking out across the cathedral. A few of King Charles' advisors - ex advisors hopefully - are yelling at their Winchester counterparts. Zachariah's assassination attempt pushing them over the edge of sense and reason. Crowley is leaning back against a pillar with his arms crossed watching his mother pin a spluttering alpha to the floor, her stiletto heel on the verge of skewering his throat. Uncle Bobby has Cas's uncle Metatron in a headlock, and at the back of the cathedral Jo and Charlie are sitting on someone who’s wearing a Heaven military uniform. Sam and John are crowded around Dean and Cas but looking outwards at the melee, ready to beat back anyone that approaches. As weddings go it's certainly lively.

"This is a house of God!" Pastor Jim's, or rather Bishop Murphy's, voice carries clear across the cathedral, cutting through the ruckus like a flaming sword. "Calm yourselves and act like the respectable people you purport to be."

The noise settles a little, but still squabbling can be heard. "Enough," Jim yells, pulling a small pistol from under his cassock and firing it into the air behind him. "This is no way for civilized people to behave in a church."

A dumbstruck silence falls. And that, Dean decides, is their cue to leave; turning to Cas he grins. "Come on, husband let’s get out of here."

Cas's face pales. Oh shit, Dean thinks, what now. "Dean, are you bleeding?"

"No," Dean lies, barefaced and badly, guiltily letting go of his arm and trying to look nonchalant. He still thinks if he plays it cool he can get away with this. Unfortunately he doesn't take into account the amount of blood now coating his hand, and dripping in a dramatic scarlet rain on to the floor.

"Dean!" Cas cries throwing himself forward. "You've been shot!"

That's when all damnation breaks loose.


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"If you ever ever do anything that stupid again, I'll kill you myself." Cas fumes pacing back and forward across the bedroom. Dean's old bedroom, with his own gloriously comfortable bed and its massive king-size mattress. And the memory foam that had welcomed him back with a warm embrace.

"Do what? Stop someone from killing us both?" Dean snaps back, scowling at Rufus as he wraps the bandage around his shoulder just a shade tighter than Dean thinks is necessary.

"No! Lie about the fact you're bleeding to death right in front of me."

"I was hardly bleeding to death," Dean rolls his eyes. "It's just a scratch. I've had worse."

"You were shot, Dean. Shot!"

"He'll be fine," Rufus says standing up. "The wound's not too bad, now we've got it cleaned up and the bleeding stopped. It'll heal up just fine. He was lucky."

"Lucky!" Cas yells. "Lucky! He was shot...on our wedding day....how is that lucky?"

Dean shifts in the bed, uncomfortable for a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with his shoulder. Angry Cas is hot. Especially when he's yelling at someone that is not Dean.

"I just meant it could have been a lot worse," Doc Turner says. "And don't you shout at me, it's not my fault he threw himself at a speeding bullet. Stupid fool thinks he's superman."

"Batman," Dean corrects, he never did enjoy the superman comics. The dude is far too squeaky clean, and an alien for god’s sake, he has an unfair advantageous, superhuman strength and shit, and what's with that kryptonite crap. "If I’m gonna be a superhero, it's gotta be batman. Dude is cool as-"

"Dean Winchester!" Cas turns on him again. "Now is not the time to discuss make-believe superheroes. You...you...are not indestructible or invincible and you don't-"

"Well, I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds to it." Rufus says, hastily packing away the last of his med kit. "Try not to ruin my hard work. I don't want to have to redo all those stitches. Not when there's a party to go to."

Cas sees Rufus to the door. "Stay," he points at Dean. "Do not move out of that bed."

And see, Dean doesn't find the rough command in Cas's voice arousing because he's an omega, he finds it arousing because he's only human. And wild-eyed Cas in full-on protective warrior mode is sex-on-legs.

And then there's the added issue that the shot Doc Turner gave him this morning is starting to wear off. Awkward though it is, and as much as Dean doesn't want to think about the changes affecting his body, there's no escaping the fact that Dean is feeling a little horny.

"Well," Dean swallows and smiles, charmingly he hopes, as Cas walks back in the room. "At least we don't have to go the wedding feast now."

"Hmmph," Cas glares at him, unimpressed.

"Because I don't know about you, but if I never see the castle ballroom again it'll be too soon."

"Yes," Cas grudgingly agrees. "I suppose that is a very, very small silver lining to you being shot!"

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Like me to forget all about the fact you lay in my arms with a bullet imbedded in your flesh and didn't think to mention it."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You didn't want to worry me? You didn't want to worry me!! And you didn't think I'd be upset when you bled to death because you didn't want to worry me?"

"Well, well, well, first domestic, boys? Already? You two do move quick." Cas and Dean both look up in surprise as Crowley strolls into Dean's bedroom.

"What the fuck, Crowley?" Dean yelps, pulling the bedsheet up to cover his naked chest.

"Your charming doctor friend said I could come straight in. Knew you wouldn’t mind."

"What do you want?" Cas growls, while Dean registers what Crowley's wearing.

"Is that...are you wearing a skirt, Crowley?"

"It's a kilt," Crowley snaps, hands covering his sporran.

"Is that a purse?" Dean sniggers. "Oh god, a skirt with a little furry purse. That's cute."

"It's a bloody kilt, the traditional dress of my mother's people, you heathen....oh bugger off."

"Well, at least you've got the legs for it," Dean grins.

"What was it you wanted?" Cas asks again, looking at Dean with fond amusement which is a steep improvement on the murderous intent from a few minutes ago.

"Ah, yes. Well, Castiel, I've got something for you. A wedding gift...of sorts."

"Can't it wait?" Cas looks pointedly at Dean. "We are rather-"

"Hello bro. Long time no see."

Cas's head whips around towards the door. "Gabriel?" His voice is a shadow of itself, uncertain, disbelieving.

"Yeah, Cassie, surprise!"

Cas rushes forward, grabs his older brother, and crushes him in a hug that almost consumes him. Dean can only watch in shock. Gabriel's disappearance is the stuff of myth and legend. But, honestly Dean was sure the guy was dead. As far as Dean knows, no-one's heard anything from him in almost twelve years.

"You....how....I don't understand." Cas stutters, holding Gabriel at arm’s length and examining him. "You...you look good. Great. Not dead. How....where have you been? What happened?"

"That's a lot of questions, bro, and let me tell you it's quite a tale. But I don't think now's quite the time for it. Not when your blushing bride across there is smelling ripe for plucking." Gabriel leers at Dean.

"Hey, asswipe," Dean complains, yanking the sheet right up to his chin. "Keep your nose to yourself. And how the heck do you and the crown princess across there know each other?"

"Well, like I say, it's a long story and seeing as how I'm planning on sticking around, there'll be plenty of time later to tell it. Suffice to say, you boys weren't the only ones making friends and falling in puppy love when you were kids."

"You've been in Hell, with Crowley, all this time?" Castiel says, finally dropping his hands and stepping back. He looks like he's having a hard time wrapping his head around all this. It is a heck of a lot to take in.

"Most of the time bro, most of the time."

"And you're back now? For good?"

"Well, I'm not gonna disappear again."

"Why now?" Asks Dean. "Why suddenly appear again now?"

"You and Cas, Deano." Crowley says. "You boys are changing things. For good."

"When Crowley told me about all this, I flipped." Gabriel adds. "I didn't agree with the turning. Not that there's anything wrong being with an omega, but that ritual is from the damn Middle Ages. You should never have been forced into it."

"Gabe, sweetheart," Crowley says as though they've had this argument countless times before.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was either the ritual or Dean swinging by his delicate neck. Anyway, when Crowley told me that Castiel was taking part in this fiasco I couldn't believe that my baby bro had turned into a knot-head alpha just like our father."

"That was when I explained to Gabriel that you hadn't Castiel, and you're welcome. I knew you and Dean were our best chance to change things in Heaven. To get your father to see sense."

Cas finally manages to drag his eyes away from his big brother to give Crowley a bitch face that Sammy would be proud of. "So that was your game plan? And what if it hadn't worked? What if father hadn't listened to me? What if Zachariah hadn't given himself away? What if I'd just claimed Dean like they wanted.? What if-"

"Okay, okay, we know that things might have gone wrong. But nothing ventured nothing gained. If this hadn't worked out we would have come up with a plan B." Crowley waves his hand dismissively.

"And now what?" Dean asks.

Gabriel literally rubs his palms together, his face lighting up with what can only be trouble. "Well, seeing as how - thanks to Dean's human shield impersonation - you boys are skipping out on your reception, we figured now would be a good time to steal the show. I can't wait to see daddy dearest's face when his long lost omega son turns up."

"Gabriel," Cas asks hesitantly. "What about, mother? Did she....is she alive?"

"She sure is bucko," Gabriel slaps Cas on the arm. "Alive and living the high life back in Hell. She didn't think she'd be able slip into Winchester without being recognized, but she's looking forward to seeing you again, baby bro."

"This is unbelievable," Dean shakes his head. "Fucking unbelievable. How did no-one know? You've both got a lot of explaining to do."

"The crown," Cas suddenly blurts out. "You're the eldest son now. When father abdicates the crown should be yours."

Gabriel laughs. "No, you're good, Castiel. I'm sure you're gonna shake things up in Heaven but I don't think they'll be ready for an omega king for a decade or two or yet."

"But," Cas begins to argue.

"And I don't want it, bro. I swear. I don't want to be king."

Crowley intercedes, "Maybe you shouldn't rush into that decision."

"We've talked about this, babe. Your plans for world domination notwithstanding, I don't want to rule Heaven. I'll settle for being your consort when you finally get your hands on the crown of Hell."

"I knew it," Dean mutters almost to himself. "Knew he had to have an ulterior motive."

"This is...a lot to take in." Cas admits running his fingers through his already impressively mussed hair. "I'm not sure I know what to say."

"Listen, Castiel. I'm sorry...for leaving. For letting you think I was dead. I know you've not had it easy the past few years, especially with losing Michael too." Gabriel grabs Castiel this time. "But you've done good brother, really good. I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've done. Standing up to father, for what was right. When I saw Dean walking down the aisle in that uniform, saw the pride in your face, the love, I knew you'd turned into the man I dreamt you would. You're going to be a great king. And you are a great brother."

"I...thank you," Cas gasps, gripping Gabriel in a hug.

"Okay, boys. It's time to break up the party." Crowley claps his hands. "You've still got work to do Cassie. Your marriage isn't going to consummate itself, and you know it's not legally binding until you and Dean do the dirty. And trust me, when the shit hits the fan, you're gonna want to make sure everything's legal and above board, contracts signed, sealed and delivered, i's dotted, t's crossed and omega well and truly fu-"

"Yes, thank you." Dean interrupts. "We get the picture."


Cas escorts Gabriel and Crowley out, hopefully locking the door behind them this time. Dean sits back and tries to digest all that information. One thing stands out; there are a lot of people relying on Cas and Dean to change the way omegas are treated in a Heaven. That's a lot of responsibility and a lot of pressure. Thank god, they've got each other to lean on.

His wedding day has been a roller coaster ride; highs and lows, twists and turns, and Dean almost puking his guts up. His body doesn't know what the fuck is going on. His shoulder aches and he's exhausted. He might be experiencing the beginning of his first heat but the drive to mate has receded for now, a flicker of want rather than an all-out need to fuck.

"Dean," Cas says walking back in. "I'm sorry. This has been such a stressful day. For both of us. It's not the way I wanted it to go."

"Yeah, me neither," Dean says patting the bed beside him. "Come here, Cas. Relax for a while."

"Do you want to...copulate right now?" Cas looks as though he's asking Dean if he wants root canal treatment.

"You're real smooth, y'know that, Cas. That dirty talk's gonna get me all riled up."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm just tired and-"

"I know, Cas. I'm joking. Come on and lie down. I don't know about you, but I could use a nap around now."

"A nap," Cas says doubtfully, sitting down to untie his shoe laces before kicking off his shoes. "You just want to nap?"

"Well, not just nap," Dean admits hauling Cas into a comfortable position to snuggle with. "Cuddling might be nice too."


005CC5144332401DB88E246C8C7BC128 (1).jpg



Castiel wakes up wishing he'd taken off a few more clothes before he'd climbed into bed beside Dean. His tie is twisted around his throat almost choking him, and his shirt is soaked through, sticking to his back.

"God, Cas," Dean groans into the nape of Castiel's neck.

And that's when Castiel realizes that it's not him that's burning up, it's Dean, lying at his back, arms wrapped around Castiel like he's a giant teddy bear. Dean's heat has hit him full force. And God, but he smells divine.

"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel says, wriggling around so he can see his husband.

"Hot," Dean gasps, his eyes are open, startling bright and fevered, his pale skin flushed. "Need you, Cas. Need you, now."

Castiel rips off his own clothes first, throwing them on the floor in a way that would reduce his tailor to tears. Then he's stripping the last of Dean's clothes from his sweat-soaked body. He's not wearing much, loose pajama bottoms that he'd changed into and warm fluffy socks that Castiel had found tucked away in his bottom drawer. The bandage wrapped around his shoulder is still securely in place and perfectly white, not a spot of red, no infection or burst stitches.

Dean's cock is hot and blood-filled, not nearly as big as it once was maybe, but still beautiful. And, for the first time, there's slick dripping down between his thighs. Sweet smelling, like honey and cream, drawing Castiel in. He can feel his own cock filling just with the pheromones seeping from Dean.

Castiel is kind of terrified. This is Dean's first heat. Their first time together. He wants this to be good. Wants to wipe away the memory of every other alpha that laid his hands on Dean. Most importantly, he wants to make Dean happy.

"Dean, are you sure about this?" Castiel mumbles against the skin he's licking, unable to hold himself back completely. "Sure you want me to do this?"

"Fuck, yeah, Cas." Dean groans thrusting his hips up into the air. "M'on fire. An'you smell so good, Cas. Want to taste you too. Want you filling me up and knotting me. Want it be you, Cas. Just you and me from now on."

"Yes," Castiel exhales. "I promise, Dean. Just you and me from now on."

Castiel covers Dean's body with his own, rubs against him until they're both sweat-soaked, sliding against one another, skin to skin. His mouth presses against Dean's, his tongue licking the salty tang of sweat from Dean's lips before nudging deeper, moaning when the taste of his omega explodes inside his mouth like sweet sparkling champagne.

They kiss for long minutes, soft gentle kisses while they grind against each other like teenagers, taking the time to explore each other's mouths, each other's bodies. Dean is so sensitive. So responsive. Every spot that Castiel touches sends shivers racing through him. When he brushes the pads of his thumbs across Dean's nipples, Dean whines into his mouth, bowing up into the touch. Castiel tears his mouth away from Dean's, leaving his lips swollen and eyes blown dark, and scrapes his teeth across a puffy pink nipple. Dean cries out, grabs Castiel's head and holds him there.

"Again, again. Fuck do that again." he demands.

Castiel does, again and again. Licking, nibbling, scraping his teeth across one nipple and then the other until they look inflamed and sore, but Dean's whimpering with pleasure and leaking so much slick that the bed sheets are ruined.

"Want to suck you, Cas," Dean gasps. "Wanted to get your dick in my mouth ever since I saw it. Please, Cas."

Castiel's cock twitches against his belly just at the thought of Dean's lips, soft and plush, wrapped around his dick.

He licks a path up Dean's chest, over bursts of delicate freckles painted like gold on silky pale skin. He nuzzles under Dean's jaw, kisses him deep and needy. Then, with Dean grabbing him, encouraging him with hoarse demands and greedy hands, he kneels over Dean's head, leans his palms on the wall for balance and lets his cock nudge against the seam of Dean's lips.

Dean wastes no time, doesn't even start off slowly, just swallows Castiel down like he's desperate. He moans around Castiel's cock, grabs hold of his ass cheeks and forces him deeper until Castiel's cock is shoving its way down his throat. Dean's eyes grow wet, his chest heaving but he sucks Cas's cock with relish. The sounds he's producing making it nearly impossible for Castiel to last.

"Dean! Dean, you've got to stop. If you want me to knot you, you have to stop now."

Dean lets go, his hands dropping away and head falling back, lips forming the prettiest pout Castiel has ever seen. One that he has to kiss straight off Dean's face.

Then he works his way back down Dean's body. Stroking and kissing every inch of skin he passes, every freckle, every tiny mole, every faint scar and bruise, until he finally reaches Dean's cock. He licks over the velvet-soft head, takes it in his mouth and sucks, Dean's pre-come dripping down his throat like drops of nectar. Dean whimpers and curses, his fingers twisting in Castiel's hair. Castiel hums as the precious pearls of omega pre-come dribble into his mouth, delicious and almost addictive, but he can't resist chasing the taste of Dean to where it's sweetest. To where it's leaking copiously, enticing his alpha to breed him, knot him.

Pushing Dean's legs apart, holding his thighs wide, he chases ribbons of slick up to the source of the delicious scent, the divine taste. Dean's pretty pink hole is soaked with slick. Intoxicating, utterly irresistable. Castiel seals his lips over the glistening pucker and sucks, moans in satisfaction as the taste spills into his mouth, chases the slick with his tongue, swirling deeper and deeper into Dean's hole until Dean's begging for more. Until Castiel's cock is so hard it actually hurts. And suddenly he can wait no longer. He needs to take his omega now. Needs to knot him. Breed him full.

The first push inside of Dean is breathtaking. His muscles clamping around Castiel's cock, hot and welcoming, Dean's slick easing the way. Castiel doesn't hold back, can't hold back, has no restraint, no finesse, he just thrusts into Dean with unbridled fervor.

Dean spurs him on, his thighs clamping around Castiel's waist. "Knot me, come on alpha, knot me." Dean chants, bucking his hips up, meeting every thrust of Castiel's with equal urgency.

Castiel can't deny Dean anything, definitely not that, not when his body feels as though it's about to implode. Mouth crashing down over Dean's, Castiel pounds into him, crackles of electricity chasing up his spine, pools of heat spreading through his belly until, with a roar that Dean echoes, he's coming. Dean's cock spurting delicate beads of come between them, his hole clamping down on Castiel's cock. Castiel's knot swelling and filling Dean up, pressing against his sensitive insides, igniting a chain of orgasms that ricochet through Dean's body in a never-ending loop, until he's a limp panting mess below Castiel.

It's like nothing Castiel has ever experienced before. It's a thousand times better. A hundred times more intense. He can sense Dean everywhere. Taste him, scent him, he can feel the way his skin, so soft below Castiels's fingers, trembles when another pulse of Cas's come swells inside of him.

He has no idea how long they stay tied together. It could be minutes or hours. Eventually they roll apart, both flopping onto their backs utterly drained.

"That...that was fucking awesome." Dean sighs, a blissed out expression on his face.

"You are awesome." Castiel says, finding the energy to turn his head and kiss Dean on the cheek.

They lie in silence for a few minutes, both trying to catch their breath. Castiel attempts to work up the energy to get out of bed. They need to clean up, shower, change the ravaged sheets, replace some of the pints of fluid they must have lost.

Somehow he can't quite find the strength to leave Dean's side.

"How long do you think we have before we need to do it again," Dean asks. "Not that I don't want to do it again or anything, but I think I stink."

"You smell wonderful," Castiel says honestly.

Dean laughs, "Yeah, I think you might be biased."

"I think we have time to shower and strip the bed at least."

"And God, I need a drink, I'm parched. And hungry. Really fucking hungry now I think about it. You think there's any food left for us?"

"I would imagine so," Castiel smiles. "Maybe even some wedding cake."

"Yeah, cake would be good," Dean agrees. "Or pie, I bet Ellen made me some awesome wedding pie."

"You are spoiled, husband."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Come on, then." Castiel sits up. "If you want pie you have to move."

"Mmmm, comfy here though." Dean says, rolling over onto his side and burrowing his cheek into his pillow. "Aren't you supposed to provide for me, big strong alpha?"

Castiel snorts and slaps his hand across Dean's naked ass watching in delight as it blossoms pink. "Oh no, you don't get to take a bullet, pretend nothing happened, and then act like a fragile defenseless omega. Get your ass out of bed, you lazy mooch."

"You're not going to let that bullet thing go, are you?"

Castiel looks at the crumpled bandage around Dean's arm. "No, I'm not."

Dean harrumphs, almost sits up, but at the last minute throws himself at Castiel, wrapping around him like a warm sticky, sweet smelling octopus and pinning him to the bed. "Okay, pie can wait."

"You're a secret snuggler aren't you," Castiel grunts, although he's not really complaining. Not about Dean plastering himself to his side.

"Nothing secret about it," Dean admits.

Castiel closes his eyes, ignores the way the sheets are gluing themselves to his back, folds his arms around Dean and relaxes. A smile stretching across his face.

He's nearly drifting off to sleep when Dean says hesitantly, almost shyly. "I love you, Cas."

"I love you, too." Castiel replies, belatedly realizing he's never admitted it out loud before.

"No, I really love you. I do. If I have to be this, be omega, I'm glad it's with you."

"Dean-"

"No, it's okay, it's fine, but Cas, there's something you need to know, something I should have told you before." Dean swallows nervously before finally spitting out what's bothering him." Cas, I don't want kids, not yet. I'm not ready."

"Okay," Castiel says, slightly puzzled but completely unfazed. Now that they're not in the full throws of mating, now his hind-brain is no longer in control, Castiel is happy to admit he doesn't feel quite ready to become a father either. Although, seeing Dean's body swell with child is something he's secretly looking forward to.

"Rufus gave me some meds." Dean confides, the worry obvious beneath his conviction. "I asked him to. Told him it was my body and my choice. They're birth control hormone pills. They should stop me getting pregnant."

"I see," Castiel says. "That's your decision, Dean. I understand."

"I want you to be okay with that decision too though." Dean says. "It's just...I want to get used to my body as it is. To get to know myself again, to learn my body, to like myself again. I need to do that before I can face getting pregnant."

"I do understand, Dean." Castiel says more forcefully, his hand tightening on Dean's back. "When...if...we have children, the decision is yours. No pressure. I promise."

"And the future is so damned uncertain. We have so much to do, to change, so many freaking battles to fight before we could even think about bringing kids into the world."

"And we'll do it, Dean...together."

"Yeah, okay." Dean says, settling down again in Cas's arms, apparently reassured. "Together. We'll do it all together."

Cas lets his eyes drift shut again, content that Dean is calm, happy and resting.

"But," Dean says two minutes later, mischief very obvious in his voice. Castiel sighs.

"If you wanted to get up and fetch some pie, you could totally do that on your own."


Finis


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Thank you for reading!

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