#dragon!cas

The first man to reach him was lanky, long hair falling in his eyes as he stared down at Castiel. He slipped off his horse easily, displaying his full height. “Are you Prince Castiel?” Castiel nodded, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect. “Yes, I am. Who do I have the honor of addressing?” The man smiled politely. “Prince Samuel, at your service, but please call me Sam. You’ll forgive my brother for lagging behind, I hope. He’s been agonizing over the right thing to say, I’m sure he’s still going over it all right no – ooof!” The second rider caught up, stopping just short of Castiel and knocking Sam to the ground. It had to be Prince Dean. No other man would dare embarrass one of the crown princes in such a way. “Don’t listen to a word he says!” Prince Dean dismounted, out of breath with the effort of catching up. Castiel stifled a smile. The exploits of the Winchester princes were legendary, known for their fighting abilities and spell casting skills. Somehow, he hadn’t pictured them as /brothers/, first and foremost. Sam muttered to himself as he stood, dusting off his breeches. “Fine, have it your way. I’ll leave you to it.” He grabbed the reins of both horses, leading them away and giving Castiel his first real look at Prince Dean. His eyes were the same brilliant green Castiel remembered. Most importantly, they were full of warmth. Castiel noticed the prince’s hands were shaking slightly. Could he possibly be nervous? He dismissed the thought out of hand. What would one of the most talented mages in the country have to fear in Castiel, especially in this form? Prince Dean cleared his throat. “Prince Castiel, I am honored to welcome you to Winchester. Our people have long awaited your arrival. I know they’re eager to meet you, but I thought perhaps you might appreciate some privacy while you settle in.” He was earnest, even if his speech showed signs of being rehearsed. Castiel was accustomed to the carefully planned machinations of the human court. He responded in kind. “That is much appreciated, Your Grace. I am touched that you and your brother were here to welcome me. I had assumed I would be met by your council.” Prince Dean’s brow furrowed. “What? No, I… of course, I wanted to be here to greet you. You’re going to be… I mean, you and I… we’re getting married. And you’re… you.” Castiel didn’t know what to make of that. His mother had prepared him for being ignored until the wedding. Apparently, in most arranged marriages this was the custom. “Well, yes. We will be married soon. But I certainly would understand if you would rather not spend much time with me before then.” Hurt flashed across the prince’s face, confusing Castiel even more. “Oh, I… is that some sort of dragon custom? Because I don’t know about you, Cas, but I want to know everything about you before we tie the knot.” He groaned. “Ah, jeez, I’m sorry, it’s Your Highness, not Cas. I just kinda always thought of you as Cas in my head, it’s tough to break that habit. Anyways, if you don’t want to be with me before the wedding, well that’s fair, I’ll stay away. I mean, who am I to mess with tradition, or, oh god, make you uncomfortable. I just don’t know all that much about you, you know? I mean I know a lot about dragons, I’ve been studying you guys for years, not just you, specifically. And… now I’m rambling. I knew this would happen, I knew it… SAMMY could you please bring the box over now?”

Now Castiel was truly bewildered as the flustered prince waited for Sam to make his way over. He smirked at Prince Dean as he handed over a small wooden box that appeared to be hand-carved. “Nice job, Dean. Real smooth. Remind me to ask you for tips before Princess Jessica comes to live with us.” “Shut up,” Prince Dean hissed as Sam retreated back to the horses.

He ends up getting his answer when he least expects it. It’s a normal day, if a busy one (because everyone wants coffee on the morning of a solstice, due to the fact that they all want to stay up for the celebrations after sundown), and everything is going fine right up until a blender explodes and douses Cas in half-blended frappe mix.

For a second, everyone behind the counter goes silent. Cas looks down at himself and plucks morosely at the mess on his shirt, then heaves a sigh and gives the most dramatic eye roll Dean has ever seen in his life.

And Dean starts to laugh. He probably shouldn’t, because it is a mess, but damn is it funny. The other employees start to chuckle, too, but one of them, at least, goes to grab a mop. Cas just fixes Dean with a glare filled with exaggerated annoyance (which is completely undercut by the smile tugging at his lips), then escapes into the back to clean himself up. Dean stays in the front long enough to ensure the rest of the mess is cleaned up and the drink gets remade, then follows after Cas to make sure that he’s also getting cleaned up alright.

He freezes in place as soon as he steps into the back room. Cas stares at him. He stares at Cas.

Because Cas is shirtless, his shirt held beneath the running water in the sink while the frappe is rinsed out of it.

And in addition to being utterly gorgeous, Cas is covered in scales. There’s a patch of them at the center of his chest, then more littered across his ribs and around his shoulders. They mark his elbows, the inside of his wrists—they’re everywhere, in a spectrum of colors ranging from a brilliant blue to a deep, onyx black.

Dean is utterly speechless.

Cas shifts in place, and lets his shirt fall into the basin of the sink. “I…” He stops, wets his lips. “Dean, I can explain.”

Dean doesn’t need him to. All at once, everything is starting to make sense. “Holy shit,” he says, “you’re a dragon.”

Cas’ shoulders hunch. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know that dragons—”

“We’re real. There aren’t many of us around here. And we aren’t the stereotypes that the world often associates with us.”

Dean blinks at that. “Hey man, I’m not saying anything about stereotypes. I barely even know anything about dragons. I can just recognize…”

He makes a vague gesture toward Cas. There are scales lining the vee of his groin, leading down beneath the hem of his jeans in a way that simultaneously draws Dean’s eyes and also makes him wish he had no eyes, because holy shit, that’s not a sight he’s ever going to get out of his mind. And, shit, he should not want to touch those damn scales as much as he does. What the hell is wrong with him?

One particular dragon stereotype does pop into his head then, though, and he grins as he realizes it. “Wait. Is this why you won’t cashier? Because you don’t want to associate yourself with money?”

Cas sighs, and a bit of pinkness colors his cheeks. “I don’t see why it matters.”

“It doesn’t,” Dean is quick to agree. He wanders forward, his hands shoved into his pockets to give himself a casual air—and to also keep him from doing something stupid, like touching. “But, it’s kind of funny. And it makes sense. And, you know, it might also be one of those kinds of things that would be good to tell your boss. So that I can make sure I’m not pushing you into anything you’re uncomfortable with, and all that.”

Cas blinks at him, then repeats, “Pushing me into anything I’m uncomfortable with?”

“Yeah?”

Cas seems to be struggling with the idea. “That is… your only concern? Out of all of this?”

Dean frowns. “Yes? What else am I supposed to be concerned with?”

“People tend not to trust dragons in jobs such as this. Or with money anywhere in reach. Not with our tendency to… hoard.”

“Well…” Dean shrugs. “Do you hoard? Or have any sorts of issues with money?”

Cas pulls a face. “No. Not money. I’ve never had much of an interest.”

“Great.” Dean starts to reach out to clap a hand to Cas’ shoulder, then thinks better of it and aborts the gesture halfway through. “You’re staying on, then. Your job is safe if you want it. You mean a hell of a lot more to me than just your species, Cas. You’re not getting away from me just because you’ve got some scaly bits.”

And—okay, that probably sounds a bit more like flirting than a simple employer-employee reassurance, but, well. He means it. And he needs Cas to know that he means it.

Judging by the way Cas’ red cheeks and shy smile, Dean thinks the point makes it across just fine. And that makes him feel bold. So he takes a risk.

“Also, uh—if you want. Maybe I can treat you to dinner? Or drinks? And we can… talk about stuff. Spend some non-work time together.”

Cas absolutely lights up. “Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”

Dean grins. “Great. Good.”