Archive of Our Own ^beta

Art by the amazing and talented sketchydean

“Your waistcoat is laid out on your bed, my Lord.”

Dean smiled, finishing up his last bite of lunch. Castiel, his faithful valet, never failed to anticipate his every need. He was the best valet the Winchester family had ever employed, hired instantly after he’d saved Dean’s life. It was a long story, but Dean was left with a lot of respect for how umbrellas could be used as weapons.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean told him warmly. “And the buttons?”

“The loose button has been repaired, the rest all checked thoroughly, sire.” Castiel replied easily.

That was no surprise. Castiel had been in Dean’s service for two years and was meticulous about his duties. He never failed to have something ready even before Dean realised he needed it. Yet it wasn’t his competence that gave Dean a warm feeling whenever he looked at Castiel. Sam had often told Dean to just get it over with and kiss the guy, but Dean never had. He couldn’t. Dean was technically his employer. He was in a position of power over Castiel. He couldn’t risk forcing his valet into something he didn’t want, that would be unspeakably abhorrent. Or Castiel could take offence and leave, and that would break Dean’s heart.

“What would I do without you?” Dean sighed happily. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a favour?”

The soft blush that had settled on Castiel’s cheeks at Dean’s compliment was quickly replaced by a look of dry amusement.

“Anything that doesn’t require me to be your date for the evening.” Castiel’s tone was patient and yet his eyes sparkled playfully. “As I told you the first twelve times you asked, it would incite jealousy among the rest of the help, and quite frankly, Dean, I relish the opportunity to take the night off.”

Across the table, Sam snorted, but made no other comment.

Dean looked wounded, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth twitching, betraying his amusement. So he’d been flirting with Cas from day one, his valet had never taken it seriously. Dean considered himself lucky, because he knew that Castiel would never accepting the flirting as anything more than playfulness, leaving Dean to tease to his heart’s content.

“Yeah, okay, Cas. Enjoy your night off. Wish I could be with you instead.”

Now Castiel looked confused. “You wish to play poker with the kitchen staff?”

Dean blinked. “That’s what you do with your night off?” He asked, before shaking his head. “Not that it doesn’t sound fun, but I meant spending time with you would be far more preferable than attending my father’s ball.”

Castiel’s expression cleared and he shot Dean a look of sympathy. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad, sire. Besides, it isn’t all for your father. It appears congratulations are in order,” he added, turning to smile at Sam. “Lady Amelia is, by all accounts, a wonderful woman.”

Dean fell silent, staring at his cup. He didn’t need to look at Sam to know he was doing the same. Castiel might be his closest friend, but even he wasn’t privy to all of the family business. Sam’s engagement wasn’t entirely the happy news it should have been.

Castiel shifted awkwardly when neither brother spoke. “Well, um, if there is nothing else, my Lord?”

Dean shook himself out of his reverie and shot a charming smile at Castiel. “No, I think I can manage from here. Go about your business and I’ll call if I need you.”

He turned to Sam once Castiel was out of the room, hoping that this time he would get through to his brother about this wretched engagement. Sam seemed to realise this was coming, however, and swept out of the room before Dean could even form the first word.

With a sigh, Dean poured himself another cup of coffee. If Sam really intended to go through with this, then that was entirely up to him.

Castiel was no fool. He knew there was something off about the whole engagement to Amelia. There were rumours about Lord Winchester forcing his younger son into the marriage, but he’d never found out why or if those rumours were even true. None of the help would discuss it in front of him and he wasn’t part of the family to hear it from the Winchester’s. Of course, he considered the brothers to be friends more than employers, Dean especially. If Castiel asked, Dean would tell him in a heartbeat, he was sure of it. But he would never ask. It would cross a line that he’d been toeing from the moment he’d been given this position.

He helped Dean into his jacket, satisfied that he was attired properly. The way Dean was shifting, however, made Castiel think that the jacket was too tight. It took him a moment to realise that the twitching was nothing to do with Dean’s wardrobe.

“You seem… agitated, my Lord.”

Dean grimaced, and Castiel knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. Something to do with the ball perhaps?

“I’d feel much better if you were there tonight,” Dean smiled. “But I would never ask you to give up your night off.”

Yet Castiel would do so in a heartbeat if it would make Dean happy. Unfortunately, any attempts on Castiel’s part to volunteer would only serve to make Dean feel unnecessarily guilty. Still–

“Perhaps not, but I would feel better if I could stop by and see how things were going, make sure you haven’t spilled brandy down the waistcoat I spent the afternoon pressing.” Castiel hid his amusement behind his usual stoic expression, but the smile on Dean’s lips showed that he hadn’t been entirely successful.

“I’d appreciate that, Cas,” Dean admitted softly.

Their gazes met and held for a long moment. Castiel’s cheeks flushed and he tore his eyes away reluctantly. “I will look in later this evening, after poker. I hope you have a pleasant night, Dean.”

His heart was still racing as he made his way down to the kitchens. He wished with all his heart that Dean would act on the feelings they both knew were there. Castiel’s position did not allow him to go out on a limb, it was not his place. He could lose his position if he had misunderstood what was between them. But Dean never acted, as if something was holding him back. Castiel just wished he knew what that was.

The kitchen was filled with raucous laughter, but even so, the party upstairs was deafening. It seemed the ball was going well. Castiel took his usual seat, surprised to see that Gabriel wasn’t next to him. The head chef was known for his penchant for gambling, joking, just messing around in general. Tonight, however, he was curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, nursing a glass of whiskey and looking downright miserable.

As always, Castiel was out of the loop regarding the issue, so he said nothing, just deigned to play a few hands. Eventually though, he decided to go and keep his promise, to check on Dean and see how the ball was going. He rose, reaching for his jacket.

“And where are you going, Castiel?” Balthazar demanded as he dealt the cards.

“I promised Dean I would stop by the ball. He asked me to attend.”

It occurred to Castiel how that sounded moments after the words left his lips, but as silence fell, he knew that rephrasing at this stage would only make him look more guilty. Pulling his jacket on, he adjusted his tie and left the warmth of the kitchen. The music was infinitely louder out here, a waltz that Castiel found himself humming as he made his way to the ballroom. He had just reached the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Startled, he turned. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel wasn’t quite drunk, but he was certainly not sober. His face was pained, his eyes desolate. Castiel couldn’t understand why he looked so… broken. Gabriel was always so cheerful; it was a shock to see him without his trademark smirk.

“Come with me.”

Curiosity made Castiel obey, so he followed Gabriel out of the warmth of the house and into the gardens. His confusion only grew when they came to a halt outside the ballroom window, the very place Castiel had just been.

“I’m not welcome in there.” The words were pained.

Castiel blinked, but didn’t push for an explanation. He sensed one was coming, and Gabriel would speak in his own time.

“Sam’s engagement is not his choice. It’s Lord Winchester’s way of ensuring his son’s prospects are significantly better than causing a scandal by eloping with a male member of the kitchen staff.”

Castiel reached out a hand to steady himself, taken aback by the revelation. He did not doubt its truthfulness; that was clear by Gabriel’s heartache. True devastation was not so easily faked.

“He found Sam and I having a picnic out in the orchard. Nothing untoward, but he was furious. Tried to dismiss me, but Sam calmed him down enough to save my position. The next thing I know, Sam’s all set to marry Lady Amelia and I’m banned from being in the same room as him. Castiel, you and I have never been particularly close but I consider us friends. Dean will never choose you over his family.”

Pain exploded in Castiel’s chest. It was a miracle his voice came out steady when he spoke.

“I would never presume–”

Gabriel didn’t let him finish. “Cut the crap, Castiel. The entire household knows about you and Dean making eyes at each other.” The harsh tone softened. “Sam told me he would give up his inheritance to be with me, and now look at him. Dean is the heir to the title, he has infinitely more to lose. I can’t tell you what to do, Castiel, but I do know that there’s no other way this can end, but badly.”

Gabriel walked away, leaving Castiel standing outside the ballroom window, helplessly. He stared through the glass, spotting Dean immediately. He was currently dancing with a beautiful blonde, who was beaming up at him. He looked so at home, so familiar with his surroundings. Castiel was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he could never feel like that. He and Dean were from very different worlds, and Dean would never be happy in Castiel’s world.

Allowing himself one last look, Castiel gave into a moment of weakness and imagined his life with Dean if it wasn’t for their divide. His heart and soul cried out in longing, the thought of growing old without being by Dean’s side was unthinkable. But it wasn’t in the cards, and Castiel saw now that it never had been.

He didn’t return to the kitchen. Instead, he settled himself in his room with a piece of paper and a quill, awaiting the end of the ball. He lost track of time, entirely, and for the first time in his service, Dean was forced to call for him. Castiel picked up his paper and found Dean in his bedroom.

“You rang, sire?”

Dean looked a little sheepish. “It wasn’t important, I just… you said you would stop by this evening and I didn’t see you.”

Something about his pain must have shone on his face, because Dean’s expression changed to once of concern. He leaned forward in his chair, reaching a hand out towards Castiel.

“Is everything well, Cas?”

Castiel didn’t reply, just pressed the piece of paper into Dean’s outstretched hand. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean’s expression when he read it, opting instead to stare at the floor. If he looked at Dean, if he saw the slightest hint of pain, he would never be able to go through with this.

“I don’t understand.” The words were flat, no trace of emotion in Dean’s tone whatsoever.

Castiel licked his lips and raised his eyes, staring past Dean. “My resignation, my Lord, effective immediately. I will pack my bags, and take a hansom to town.”

Dean didn’t reply for a moment, but when he did, his voice was shaky. “You want to leave? Did I do something wrong? I thought we were family.” When Castiel didn’t reply, Dean spoke again. “Will you at least tell me why? After years of service, and I hope friendship between us… it’s the only thing I would ask of you.”

With a heavy heart, Castiel met Dean’s eyes, trying to summon the words to explain exactly how he felt, but they would not come. Instead, he headed for the door, pausing at the threshold to look back at Dean wearily.

“I realised that this… simply wasn’t meant to be.”

He pretended he didn’t see Dean’s expression of devastation in favour of saving what little was left of his own heart. Thankful that he wasn’t a man fond of material things, it didn’t take long for Castiel to pack. He had his clothes, a few books, a few comforts. Nothing extravagant. Thanks to the generous pay from Lord Winchester, he had enough money that he could live comfortably until he found a new position. With any luck, one of the brothers would provide him with references if he needed them.

The slight tapping at his door brought him out of his reverie and he called out for whoever it was to enter. Castiel didn’t expect to see Sam there, but wasn’t too surprised. They were friends too. It was only natural for them to say farewell to each other.

“Why? And don’t be cagey with me.”

Sam’s voice was bordering on cold and Castiel flinched. He’d never been spoken to like that from either of the brothers before. It made his blood boil in his chest, rage settling in the spaces where misery had previously occupied. This wasn’t his fault, and Sam was the last person who should be interfering in Castiel’s decision.

“Why? You, of all people, are seriously asking me why?” He snapped, barely realising that he was talking to the son of Lord Winchester, scowling at him like a commoner. But he’d just resigned, and had always been given free use of Sam’s name, so manners weren't high on his priorities. “You know how I feel about him, Sam. And what, you expect me to just… continue this way? Seeing, but never having?”

Sam blinked, clearly not having expected Castiel to own up to his feelings. His mouth set in a hard line. “Of course not. He’s building up to it, Cas, this isn’t easy for Dean either, he never wanted to take advantage of you. You've just broken his heart by threatening to leave.”

“Just like you broke Gabriel’s?”

The stunned look on Sam’s face gave Castiel a vicious stab of pleasure. Of all people, Sam Winchester was not the person to be lecturing him on heartbreak, not from what he’d seen had happened to Gabriel.

“You don’t even realise how badly you hurt him, do you? He’s broken, but there was still enough heart in Gabriel for him to warn me of what was coming. You promised to give up everything for him, so how could I ever believe Dean would honour what you could not? I learned my lesson by seeing what would happen to me if I took a chance and stayed here. I love him,” Castiel’s voice wobbled here. “But I will not let him break my heart.”

Sam swallowed. “Cas, you don’t understand. Dean–”

“–is better off with me gone,” Castiel finished firmly. “And I will be better off as far away from here as I can be. We've been friends for a long time now, Sam. This is something I have to do. Your feelings on the matter will not sway my decision, but I would prefer to leave with your compassion as opposed to your resentment.”

He turned away, collecting his bag with one hand and giving Sam a few minutes to weigh up his decision. Either way, Castiel was leaving. It was up to Sam whether he left with their friendship intact or shattered.

“You’ll always be my friend, Cas,” Sam said eventually. Castiel didn’t realise how much Sam’s answer had been worrying him, until the weight was lifted and he could breathe again. He was already going to lose Dean; he would hate to lose Sam too.

“I’m glad.”

“If you need anything at all–”

Castiel smiled, sadly. “I know that I can always count on you. Thank you, Sam. If you’ll excuse me, I should go. My hansom will be waiting.”

Sam nodded, stepping aside to let Castiel pass. Gripping his bag, Castiel left the room, stopping when Sam’s hand found his shoulder and looking up at him. He could see the indecision on Sam’s face and knew what he was having trouble asking.

“He’s not okay,” he said, gently. “But he will be, as long as your marriage isn’t rubbed in his face. If you can’t give Gabriel what he wants, you need to let him go. Find him another position and give him a clean slate. You owe him that. Goodbye, Sam.”

He didn’t stay to say goodbye to the staff. They would hear of his absence soon enough and Gabriel would understand why he had been unable to stay. He left the house to a downpour that had suddenly come from nowhere. It seemed fitting, the weather reflecting his emotions. Any tears he might shed on his journey would be disguised in the rain.

Stepping into the cab, Castiel took one last look at the house he’d called home. In what remained of his heart, it would always be his home, but there was nothing there for him now. He gave the address of the inn and stared down at his hands as the horse began to trot away.

The cab driver chatted merrily as they walked, no doubt trying to decipher whether Castiel had been dismissed or left freely. Castiel gave nothing away, just gave short answers until the driver took the hint and fell silent.

“Cas!”

No sooner than they’d reached the end of the street, the faint sound of yelling reached his ears, accompanied by the thundering sound of a horse galloping. His eyes widened and he craned his neck, trying to look behind the cab.

“What in the blazes?” The driver swore, slowing the cab to a halt so he could look too. “Is that one of the Winchester boys?”

Castiel was out of the cab in seconds, heart thundering in his chest as he saw Dean approaching, riding a horse bareback like he was a common circus performer, rather than the heir to the Winchester title.

“What are you doing?” Castiel called out, once Dean drew closer. “You’re not even wearing a jacket; you’ll catch your death.”

Dean didn’t reply, just pulled up beside the hansom and leaping down from the horse. “You can’t leave, Cas. I thought I could be unselfish and let you go without saying it, but I can’t. I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Dean’s hands covered his cheeks and the tears that Castiel had been holding back eventually fell, only to be lost in the rain. Those were the words he’d wanted to hear for so long, but now were only serving to break his heart further.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he choked, trying to pull back, but Dean wouldn't let him. “Your father – your title –”

“Hang the title!” Dean bellowed, over a crash of thunder. “Hang my father too, I just told him he can’t disinherit both of his sons or there won’t be anyone for him to leave the title to!”

Castiel fell into Dean’s arms, clinging tightly to him. Dean had come after him, he was still having trouble processing that. Not only that, he’d actually agreed to give up the title if necessary. He’d chosen Castiel over his father’s wishes. From the sounds of it, Sam had also seen sense and followed his heart.

Castiel was vaguely aware of the rain getting heavier, but it wasn’t important. All that mattered was Dean, the strong arms around him and what this all meant. It was a dream come true.

“If it were possible, I’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d have me. You were worried about the life you could offer me if I were disinherited, Cas, but you never stopped to think about the life I could offer you. A lifetime of judgement, of scandal. The future Lord Winchester’s bed-warmer, but not his husband.”

“I don’t care for the gossip columns,” Castiel interrupted, before Dean could talk himself out of his own grand gesture. So Dean could discern his sincerity, Castiel met his gaze. “I just worry that I won’t belong by your side. That I will embarrass you.”

Dean’s thumb swept over Castiel’s cheekbone. “Never. You could never embarrass me, Cas. You don’t get it, you’re the only person that could ever belong by my side. Titles, balls, wealth… none of that means anything without you in my life.”

A crash of thunder made Castiel jump, and once again he found Dean’s arms around him.

“Can I kiss you?”

Castiel nodded, swallowed, and as Dean closed the gap between them, so did he. Their lips met in the middle, in the pouring rain. Both were soaked to the skin and unaware of anything going on around them, but neither one of them cared.

With Dean’s lips against his own, Castiel was rethinking his earlier judgement. Maybe this was meant to be.