#maleficent!cas

The human snorts. “And get ripped to shreds by that ugly thing? No thanks.”

Castiel’s hand drops from where he’d been holding it out, blue eyes turning to slits. He squares his shoulder and his lips part in offense. “That was rude!” the faery exclaims as if surprised, turning to his wooden friend. “Don’t listen to him, Balthazar. You’re classically handsome.” Balthazar is one of the Qa’mti, a species of tree so brave and loyal that never before have the Moors seen its likeness. Though Balthazar’s features are twisted and sharp, he’s exquisite. All manner of creation is exquisite, if you look at it the right way.

The wooden being bows his head in thanks, and Castiel mimics the action. The snapping of a twig is heard and dark wings flare out. “Come out, “ the fae says calmly, though there is no mistaking the hardness in his voice. “We do not kill petty thieves, not unless they refuse to listen.”

The space between Castiel’s last word and the human’s step forward seems to take a millennium… but when a filthy creature does step into the light, the faery cannot help but be unimpressed.

The human is scrawny and sunburnt, freckles barely standing out against the redness of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His eyes are green, and though Castiel readily accepts their beauty, he cannot deny that the pain within them dulls their otherwise vibrant colour. The human’s clothes are too big, his hair is cut in messy patches, and he stands straight as a birch tree as if awaiting orders.

“Are you fully grown?” Castiel asks curiously.

The boy looks confused by the question and answers hesitantly. “…No. Are you?”

A private smile graces the fae’s lips. He gives a minute shake of his hand before holding out his hand. “Return what you’ve stolen.”

“I ain’t got nothin’.”

Castiel wriggles his outstretched fingers pointedly. “Now, Thief.”

With a grumble, the human drops a gem into the other’s palm. Castiel smiles and looks at the item intently before scanning the water and tossing it in a certain direction. Turning back to the human, Castiel juts his chin out. “Come,” the fae says.

They start off towards the edge of the Moors, and it isn’t long before the human opens his mouth again. “If I knew you were just gonna throw it away, I wouldn’t have given it back.”

“I didn’t throw it away,” Castiel explains. “I put it back where it belongs; back home. Everything has a home, Thief, and everyone.”

“Not everyone,” the boy mumbles. He lifts his head then, walking more resolutely. “And my name’s not Thief, it’s Dean.”

“I’m called Castiel.”

The rest of the walk passes in silence until the pair reach the border between kingdoms. It’s then that Castiel stops, fingers itching nervously at his sides as he fiddles with the ties at his waist. What if Dean doesn’t want to leave? What if Castiel doesn’t want him to leave? Despite the human’s criminal tendencies, it’s nice to have someone around who's somewhat familiar in size and appearance.

Castiel forces himself to speak. “This is where we part ways,” the fae says sternly. His face softens. “…Go home, Dean, and don’t come back. The Moors are not safe for humans.”

Dean smirks. “Not safe, huh?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “It would be ill-advised for you to return here,” he rephrases. “Most of the kingdom’s inhabitants do not take kindly to the human race. Go home to your parents, Thief.” ‘Thief’ is said affectionately, but Dean doesn’t smile. Instead, the boy gives a half shrug, looking out to the fields of barely and rye surrounding them.

“I don’t live with my parents.”

“Why not?”

“They’re dead.”

Castiel bites his lip. “My condolences,” he murmurs. “Mine are, too. I live in the Moors by myself.”

“I live in a barn with my brother.”

“You’re a farmer?”

“Yeah, but not for too much longer,” Dean explains, looking towards the castle. “Someday, I’m gonna live there. Me n’ Sammy, both of us… Good beds, protection, all the food you can eat…” The boy shakes himself, palming the back of his neck in embarrassment before extending his hand for a shake. “It was nice to meet you, Cas.”

“Likew—ah!” Iron scalds hot against the fae’s pale skin, burning angry red marks that disappear not a moment later. Castiel rubs the tender flesh in morbid curiosity, looking towards Dean’s wide eyes. “Your ring,” he explains. “It’s iron. Iron burns faerys.”

Without a second a thought, Dean tosses the ring into the field behind him. Castiel can see a flush under the dirt covering the boy’s cheeks, and is shocked to find that Dean is once again holding out his hand.

They shake for a long time.

“If I do come back—”

Castiel dutifully ignores the flutter in his chest at those words. “That wouldn’t be wise, Dean.”

“Yeah, but if I do… will you be here?”

Cas’s entire body flares with warmth. Biting his lip, the fae ducks his head in a bashful nod and half shrug. “Possibly. Most likely.”

“Then maybe I’ll see you around, Faery.”

Castiel smiles. “Stay out of trouble, Thief.”

When Cas returns to his tree, the place in which he slumbers, the fae cannot help but smile; Dean, who already has so little, threw away his ring in order to shake hands. He threw away possibly his only frivolous possession for the possibility of touching skin-to-skin. Castiel’s heart is moved by the encounter.

Dean visits Cas as often as he possibly can.

They play in the creeks and lounge on the grass and eat wonderful, sweet fruit. Sometimes, Castiel scoops Dean into his arms and flies for the hell of it, and others… well, Dean is content to simply sit and touch the soft feathers of Cas’s wings; running fingertips along the pinions and sifting through down. Castiel makes Dean bracelets and anklets, and as time goes on, so too their relationship begins to change.

It begins budding into something… more.

It starts with a look: blue eyes meeting green and holding the gaze for longer than ever before, blushing and eventually looking away with bashful smiles. Next comes touching; fingers, arms, shoulders… seldom, when the pair are together, are they two completely separate entities. Dean will reach out for Cas’s hand, or the fae will brush his human’s back with a wing. They cuddle as well, folded up in Castiel’s nook, and whisper and touch in ways that are not indicative of anything but romantic attachment; fingers tangling and brushing through dark hair, curiously tracing the place where horn meets scalp or buried in dark feathers… fingers chasing freckles across the bridge of a nose, or brushing a full bottom lip, palms moving to press flat against the place where wings would have sprouted had Dean been of faery descent.

“I like this,” Castiel whispers one day, when he and Dean are laying together near the falls. His long fingers run along the shell of a sunburnt ear, cooling the skin with minor magic. “…I like you.”

Dean doesn’t look away from where their eyes meet, instead leaning close to rub their noses together in an action that makes Cas’s stomach drop and heart soar. “…Me too,” Dean breathes with a smile.

Two years pass in a blur of soft touches and smiles, and both beings grow in every sense of the word. Dean spends less time at the Moors to put more hours in farming, but visits Castiel every evening with calloused and blistered hands and feet. Cas gives him potions and remedies for his aching body and sends him on his way, murmuring protective charms into his hair as they hug to part ways. It’s never for long, but that’s okay… as long as they see each other, both hearts are content.

Dean grows taller and gains muscle mass, his skin, usually forever sunburnt, becomes golden. In what feels like a night, the skinny runt of a boy Castiel had caught thieving becomes a man with a strong jaw and bottomless green eyes. He has admirers now despite his peasant status, but never accepts any advances, preferring to spend his nights with his brother. It takes Dean months to admit to himself that perhaps the reason he refuses to go out and try to marry his way into royalty is not entirely because he needs to be with Sam every night… maybe it’s because his heart is no longer his to give. Maybe, it belongs to a faery by the name of Castiel.

Castiel has grown just as much as Dean has. The faery’s skin is pale and perfect as ever, though while Dean has become more bulky, Cas has turned willowy. He’s composed of wiry muscle, the softness of childhood fading away to sort of ethereal beauty only possessed by the fae. Castiel’s wings are larger most of his down feathers are gone, but they are no less soft, and his hair is wild from flying. He’s gorgeous, with his handmade clothing and his wings and his horns. With those swirling blue eyes, the faery begins to truly look like one of his kind.

Cas relishes the moments he gets to see Dean, sometimes sitting at the border between kingdoms because he can’t wait. The human has even begun to bring his friend gifts: interesting rocks and flowers and a carton of berries he managed to hide in his jacket. It’s very kind of him, even though Castiel insists that the greatest gift is spending time together. The fae will often fly over to his friend when he sees the familiar head of light hair crest over the hill, so utterly excited that he bowls Dean over, face flushed with affection. Dean, of his part, is happy to hold on and fall.

In sum, the pair grow as people tend to do, physically and in spirit… but it isn’t until Castiel’s sixteenth birthday that everything changes:

The fae hears a familiar noise and a hum, and despite being otherwise wholly present in the celebration the Moor-folk have prepared for him, Cas can’t help but smile widely, pointed ear twitching. To Castiel’s right, Balthazar grumbles something rude about how smelly the ape is, but the fae is gone before his sentinel can even finish. “Thank you for the celebration, it was wonderful!” Cas shouts through the flutter of feathers. He makes his way towards the border in record time. “Dean! Dean! Dea—Oof!” Tumbling down the hill in a mass of limbs and feathers, Castiel ends up on top of his friend, a wide smile on is face. “You came.”

“Well yeah,” Dean mutters, sore and grimacing. “It’s your birthday.”

Cas is practically vibrating with excitement. “Hello.”

The grimace fades to a grin. “Hey.”

Leaning down to nuzzle into Dean’s chest and neck, Castiel inhales deeply. “I missed you,” he sighs. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Dean bites his lip and brushes back dark hair. “S’okay… I missed you, too.”

“When do you have to be back?”

“Not until late.”

“Then can we stay here for a while, just like this?”

By way of answer, Dean’s fingers scratch at the base of Cas’s skull. “Yeah,” he breathes, chest warm with affection. “Yeah, we can do that.”

The day passes quickly, and after mudfights and swimming and intimate conversation, the sun is beginning to set. Both Dean and Cas are covered in dirt and damp from swimming, but neither can bring himself to care. It’s been too long since they had the luxury of being together for more than a handful of minutes.

“D’you ever wish I was a faery?” Dean asks suddenly from his place tucked into Cas’s side.

Castiel’s answer is immediate: “No.”

“Really?”

Cas shrugs. “If you weren’t human, you wouldn’t be you.”

Dean’s smile is all-encompassing. “Hey, I never gave you your birthday present.”

“Dean, I don’t need—”

“Calm down,” the human says with a playful eye-roll. “It’s not anything expensive. It’s not… expensive at all, actually. It’s worthless.” Dean’s voice has turned quiet and unsure, and Castiel doesn’t like it one bit.

“Dean?” he asks nervously, hand brushing a freckled cheek.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m just, uh… Cas, I’m gonna give you something okay? A-And you don’t gotta accept it or anythin’, but I just…”

“Dean, you’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, I’m scaring me, too,” he huffs humourlessly. “But it’s not bad, Cas. It’s not. Um.” Sitting up, Dean drags Castiel with him until they’re close, fingers of both hands intertwined as the human moves in like he’s done so many time before. But this time, instead of touching noses… Dean and Cas touch lips. It’s soft and chaste, and Castiel squeezes Dean’s fingers because he doesn’t know what to do with all the warmth inside him.

“H-Happy birthday.”

With that they pull away, flushed and warm and nervous. It’s Cas who smiles first, pressing his fingers to his tingling lips in awe and confusion. “What was it?” the fae asks softly.

Dean’s swallow is thick. “True love’s kiss.”

Castiel positively blossoms. His eyes turn liquid blue, face red and lips parting as his hands move of their own accord, gently cupping Dean’s face and bringing him closer. Though the fae has never kissed before today, he’s determined to get it right for his human. His true love. His Dean. It’s a sweet little thing—the kiss that gets delivered to the other’s top lip, and when Cas pulls away his gaze is heavy. “I love you,” he says.

Dean is hit with a moment of clarity: getting rich, being king, having anything more than is necessary is unnecessary. It’s all just extra, because this, right here… the closeness and the kissing and the love, that’s what it’s all about. It’s not about money or comfort, it’s about happiness. It’s about keeping his family safe and loving them. Cas is part of that family. Cas is… Cas… is…

Dean surges forward tangling fingers into dark hair as he kisses and licks and nips. He has no idea what he’s doing, and everything feels sloppy, but Cas heartily joins in, following his partner’s inexperienced lead. Already, this is dangerous; kissing and falling in love. Humans have been trying to take the Moors for centuries, and Castiel, as the strongest faery, has fallen into the role of lead protector. He’s fierce in battle, Dean knows, and he also knows that, with his new job in the castle, he’ll be very likely to be ordered to try and kill the being in his arms.

He can’t do it.

This is why Dean doesn’t go back to the castle. This is why Dean never goes back. This is why Dean goes to the farm to collect his brother, and all three live in the Moors, happily ever after.