Chapter Text
A dessert and a quick interview with national television later, Gabriel signals for Samandriel that they are leaving. Thus having demonstrated—at least in theory— to the one person they performed this entire charade for that they do not fear him, they leave the square, taking the fastest way out. The Impala and a small fleet of sandcars are waiting for them, under discreet surveillance from the palace guard. Gabriel's soldiers seem eager to prove themselves: they are efficient, fast and quiet.
It seems like Gabriel's entire household has joined them, including horses, hounds and a few of the maids and their children. Samandriel is driving a gigantic magnetocraft transporter that Dean has to admire for a moment before they get into the Impala. "We're leaving for the desert right away, then? I mean, you don't want to take the road as far as possible?" Dean asks.
Gabriel nods. "Element of surprise. Nobody has had the opportunity to plan ahead and plot against us as it is. The only reason that Alastair found us last time was because of the paparazzi; this time... I don't think he dares. He'd know we're prepared. If he has someone spying at us, I thought it would be easier to see whether we are followed if we took off from here, since nobody expects us to go off road instead of taking the direct way through the desert to the Sky Palace. So, yeah. Desert. In ten minutes."
The brief midwinter rainfall has left the road into the desert lined with colorful little flowers and merrily chirping birds. It has been too long since Dean has been out here; he rarely needs to take to the desert, not when he has Gabriel and Sam to take him through the void. He'd still rather have an unsettled stomach than to travel four, five, six days through the burning hell during the unbearably hot summer months. Late winter and early spring are pleasant, though; the temperatures are nice. They only have to watch out for the hurricanes, sandstorms and the occasional cloudbursts. Sure, traveling with Gabriel minimizes the risks of being caught in a hurricane; but Gabriel is only a demi-god, not the High Lord himself: he does master the weather, but he makes mistakes, too. The climate is a worthy adversary, but a damned unpredictable one.
They reach the border between precious farmland and the vast plains of the desert. The road continues inland, across the rocks. At their right the desert takes over. Dean fires up the magnetic fields and pulls the lever to bring up the wheels. The Impala answers him readily; she's all lubed up and smooth as butter. Her engine roars as she slides from the road into the sand, her magnificent body moving elegantly but quickly across the dunes. Gabriel reaches over and turns on the old radio; strangely enough the dated piece still works. It's some classical channel, blasting a tune that informs them that the singer can see Paradise by the dashboard light. Dean hums along, enjoying the music. Gabriel's arm slides around his shoulder. Dean follows the sun's lead, a line straight south. Rolled-down windows let in a pleasant breeze, and Dean sighs in satisfaction. He likes this, the ease, the freedom, the time he spends with Gabriel away from their gilded cage.
A few hours later the fleet of sandcars turns northeast while Gabriel urges Dean to take the Impala across the cliffs and into the heavy dunes, testing her limits. Like Dean knew already, his baby handles herself well, like the perfect lady she is. She takes the steep drops slowly, and rises to conquer any wall of rocks in her way with a deep growl, showing them that the lady has claws and teeth too.
As the sky turns pink over their heads, they return to the caravan, Gabriel directing them to a small oasis, wanting to set up camp. Of course Samandriel has managed to have the tents up and ready, just like there's a pen for the horses, and sleeping quarters for the servants. A generously large trailer, parked so far away from Gabriel's pavillion that it is barely visible, gives them a believable illusion of actually being alone.
The tent is a cliché, something out of an old movie about sheiks and Arabian nights, but Dean loves it. It's definitely Arabian nights, without the lack of sleep and too many boring stories. Heavy velvet embroidered in gold. Silk gauze. Low couches with pillows strewn across them. A bed might be buried underneath another pile of purple and red and dark brown pillows. Small round tray tables. Plush antique rugs, and a pair of Gabriel's beloved hounds lounging lazily on yet another pile of pillows. Dean strokes the hounds on their heads as he passes by, and they glare at him as if he is beneath them. Well, he can't take a rabbit or a deer full speed in less than thirty seconds, so he supposed they've earned the right. They are specialized killers, despite their delicate exterior. Dean likes them. The brief wag of a tail from one of them tells Dean that the two elegant creatures aren't entirely adverse to reciprocate.
"It is beautiful," Dean tells Gabriel as he steps up next to him, sliding his arms around Dean's waist. "It's very you. Flamboyant."
"And here I thought I was being... modest." Gabriel gets up on his toes and kisses Dean on the mouth. "I like camping."
"This is not camping. It's you, showing off," Dean growls and kisses Gabriel back until they are both out of breath. "You're incorrigible."
"Contrary to you. You are very... corrigible."
Dean is about to do something nasty to Gabriel when Samandriel steps inside the tent. "Your bath is ready, if you'd please step outside, My Lord, Dean," Samandriel says, waving servants forward to take their clothes. Naked, they walk outside, the sand still warm under their bare feet.
Where Samandriel has procured hot water enough to fill the luxuriously large tub, Dean has no idea. Better not to ask; he probably can't wrap his mind around the reply anyway, since it surely involves some kind of Forever-Lordly magic-fu.
Gabriel is already in the tub when Dean sinks into it. The warm water sloshes over his nipples and he is suddenly very aware of his new piercings. His nipples peak.
"Exactly what I hoped for," Gabriel says. "Feels good?"
Dean nods, feeling his face heat up. "Yeah." It feels awesome, and Dean has to suppress a need to pinch and pull at the rings. "Are we playing or not?"
"Not. Or rather we are." Gabriel studies Dean's nipples without touching them. "We're going to play with those later, and I'm probably going to tie you up, but I'm not going to ask for your submission. I'd like to try out a few things, make you look all pretty. I have jewelry to decorate you with. I wanna have fun and I don't want any mistakes of mine to ruin your trip into subspace. I mean... we're testing. What if do something to you that you that you didn't know you wouldn't like? So no playing tonight, not really. You okay with that? That we're taking you for a test drive? Before we do anything more serious with those rings?"
Dean laughs. Yeah, he's definitely okay with another test drive. Dean definitely noticed the enhanced sensitivity of his nipples, but he hasn't had time to explore the effect of the piercings more thoroughly; they've been too busy for that. "Sure. Sounds good."
Samandriel serves them wine and fruit. Dean leans back in the tub, relaxing. It was a great idea to go here. He feels better. He likes that they are alone, or that they will be when the servants return to their trailer. Looking up into the darkening sky, the stars blinking above, Dean is at peace. He spreads his arms, tilts his head back and watches as the night takes over, nothing left of the light but the clear stars and the bonfire outside their tent.
They use an hour or so, soaking in the tub. The servants fetch more hot water, keeping the tub warm until Gabriel finally decides to get out of it and into the tent.
The nights are still cold, but hundreds of candles are lit, and the temperature inside the tent is comfortable.
Gabriel leads Dean to one of the soft couches while Samandriel fetches a box that he places on the carpet-covered ground. Dean eyes it suspiciously.
"Jewelry, a few new tunics and robes. Chains." Opening the lid, Gabriel takes what looks like a cobweb interwoven with silver and diamonds. It's a thin robe, transparent, apart from the silver embroideries. "Thought the robe would go well with these," Gabriel says and slides a finger over one of Dean's nipple piercings. "Try it on."
Dean lets the thin fabric slide over his arms, Gabriel helping him. It's silken-soft and does nothing but to cling to his body and make him look good. Gabriel holds the mirror in which Dean studies himself. The nipple rings are clearly visible under the fabric.
"Open it again." Gabriel puts down the mirror and pushes the robe apart, free access to Dean's chest. "I want to see what you look like with these on." He digs into the box and finds some of the chains they purchased at the market. With a handful of chains rattling in his hand, Gabriel cups Dean's jaw and holds him there as he kisses him, slow and wet and deep, a sensual kiss that makes Dean's dick stir between his naked legs.
Finally satisfied with Dean's compliance Gabriel takes one of the chains and attaches the little hooks at the ends to his nipple piercings. It is difficult for Dean to stay still, the tugging arouses him too much. Tryingly he leans back a little, feeling the stretch and the exquisite, sweet pain as Gabriel lets him play with the chain.
"Good?" Gabriel asks. "More?"
"Yes." Dean's voice is hoarse. He knew it would be good, and the hunger in Gabriel's eyes makes it better. "More."
Gabriel reaches down to stroke Dean's cock. He's not hard yet which seems to please Gabriel. "On your back," Gabriel demands, gently pushing Dean onto the couch. He sinks into a heaven of deep pillows and soft velvet. "Spread for me."
Dean spreads his legs, wondering what Gabriel has planned for him. Gabriel leans forward and kisses Dean's stomach, licking into his belly button before he takes another chain and hooks into the small ring between Dean's legs. He makes a muted mewl as the weight of the chain pulls at his perineum, teasingly good and cruel at the same time.
"You know," Gabriel says, "that during the Victorian times when tight breeches were in fashion, the Prince Albert was used to tie the cock to one's leg so that it couldn't get hard and reveal hidden desires."
"No!" Dean's arousal fades, not because the story appalls him but because he certainly wants to be allowed to enjoy his erection tonight. "Please?"
The cruel smile that Gabriel sends him is not exactly promising. He tugs lightly at the chain attached to the guiche. Dean moans and tenses, hands clutching at the pillows. It feels so good.
"I want to tie you up like this," Gabriel murmurs, "leaving you helpless and needy for a day. Use time to make you aroused, watch you suffer for me, desperate for release."
He fiddles with the chain and the ring that adorns Dean's cock, sliding the cool chain over it, until Dean squirms to get away. It is arousing to think about it, think about how pleased Gabriel will be with him if he endures a full day with his cock chained. The thought in itself is delicious torture. Dean moans. "I want to try. But not tonight."
"We have time," Gabriel says and releases his hold on Dean's dick. "I promised you. Tonight we're testing things and I want you hard too." Gabriel attaches the chain to Dean's cock anyway, leaving the chain loose enough for Dean to get fully hard without any jewelery ruining his erection. The chain is loose enough just to tug lightly at his cock. "Hands off," Gabriel demands, and Dean obeys him because he wants to. Gabriel attaches the end of the chain to the chain that runs between his nipples, tight enough to stretch them a little. "Turn over, I want to fuck you," Gabriel orders, sliding a finger down the chain, pulling it gently. Dean hisses, arching up from the couch, the one tug sending little jolts of pleasure through him. It is as if his entire body has become hyper-sensitive. He didn't think the piercings would make his arousal go from zero to sixty so fast.
"Not much play in that." Dean doesn't protest any further because right now he'd beg to have Gabriel's long cock in his ass and his fingers clutching at his hipbones possessively.
Gabriel helps him turn over. The chain is heavy enough to make Dean feel it, really feel it, every time the chains swing. He is hard and halfway into an haze of arousal before Gabriel's fingers are in him, slick and slippery with oil. Every little move goes straight to Dean's cock, if nothing else, then because the ring and chain tug at it all the time. It's perfect. Caught up in new sensations Dean barely registers that Gabriel has finished, pulling out the two fingers he has used in Dean's hole. The benefit of being used and fucked and opened at all times, Dean muses briefly: he is always ready for Gabriel to fuck him.
"Ready?" Gabriel asks. "Damned arousing to see you like this, love what it does to you, baby." Gabriel lines himself up, rubbing his cock over the piercing behind Dean's balls.
"Gabriel!" Dean cries; the sensitive spot between his hole and his sac has turned into a pleasure-switch, and fuck, has Gabriel just turned it on! "More!"
Fingers dig into Dean's hips as Gabriel pushes inside accompanied by the squelching sound of too much oil. Dean is ready to get it hard, they have fucked so much lately that it takes little preparation to get him there, only a few slow slides in and out, before Gabriel can move properly. Heaven, he loves it so much when Gabriel fucks his ass hard and fast. Gabriel might have picked up on Dean's thoughts because he pulls out, almost all the way, before he slams in to the hilt, hard, his hips pushing Dean forward. Then Gabriel's hand is on his neck, unrelenting.
"I told you I was going to fuck you until you screamed," Gabriel whispers, his voice slow and soft and sweet. "Now scream." He slams in, setting a brutal pace almost immediately.
Dean cries out; it hurts, it hurts so good. Behind him, Gabriel shiver as he fucks Dean harder than he has ever been fucked before. Fighting not to lose it and send the tent into the stratosphere by accident, Gabriel uses his need to fuck Dean into the mattress. Gabriel's hoarse, helpless moans inflames Dean's lust; it's brutally exciting to be taken like that, it's simple and honest. Raw.
The chain that runs from Dean's nipples to his dick swings and pulls and tears at him. Every time Gabriel rams his cock into Dean the chain swings, his cock bobs, his nipples are pulled. It's an overwhelming onslaught of sensations. Gabriel's one hand is holding Dean down, the other has a possessive, harsh grip around the hill of Dean's left hip. From time to time, in between gasps and filthy curses, Gabriel uses his mouth to press tender kisses onto Dean's back, a stark contrast to the ruthless fucking.
And Dean screams. He lets the sounds leave his throat unattended, uncensored. The cries are raw lust, raw need, no holds barred. It's pleasure and pain, it's frustration and fear, and most of all it is him, pleasing the man he wants so badly that there are neither thoughts, nor words to express how much. There are only primal, pure sounds, a purgatory of molten, confused urges that Dean can't, nor won't put into something intelligible.
He comes with Gabriel's cock buried deep inside him, Gabriel's unhinged moans in his ear.
*
The two weeks Gabriel has planned for their holiday pass by far too quickly. When the first week comes to and end, Gabriel learns that Alastair has fled the capital, not because he has done something illegal as such, but probably in fear of Gabriel's retaliation. It makes Dean pleased to hear of it. Knowing Gabriel, he'd be worried, too, if he were Lord Alastair. Unfortunately for Lord Alastair, Gabriel is going to enjoy the dish called revenge even when it is served cold, Dean is certain. At ease, the imminent threat of attacks gone, they simply enjoy their little vacation.
They ride and hunt, they explore the desert, accompanied by the two quiet and lanky hounds that share their tent and their food. Seeing that the hounds catch them rabbit and an occasional sand-deer, it is a fair deal. They race each other, too, Dean almost one with the gorgeous car that Gabriel gave him. Gabriel manages to wreck a $500,000 Kudo Tailwing in a deep dune, and he laughs, telling Dean that he'd much rather have an Impala if they can find another. Kudos are crap anyway, only WAGs and drug dealers have them. And Gabriel, obviously. Dean doesn't mourn the loss of the expensive piece of bling-decked shit.
The servants pack or unpack, set up the tent, or break camp while Gabriel and Dean simply enjoy each other's company, leaving everything else to the servants and Samandriel. Gabriel swears that he is going to give all of them a considerable bonus for their hard work when they return to the palace.
For the first time since Dean left the Cage the ever-present heaviness of being sold and bought is lifting. He is having fun, good, clean fun, and it is obvious that so has Gabriel. Well, at times the fun is not so clean. At times it is decidedly dirty and good. In the night (and a few times during the day) they have sex. Sometimes they play, sometimes they don't. Sometimes the tenderness and intimacy between them reach another level, a level that Dean won't put words to. It's in those small moments in time, in the silence of the desert and the solitude they find under the stars, that their quiet kisses speak more than words.
It is those moments that make Dean doubt his resolve to leave Lord Gabriel and the Sky Palace when he is free again. When everything else, riches and luxury, are gone; when there is only the two of them, the pure, undiluted truth of their relationship is that Dean doesn't want to let go of what he has.
He wants it; High Lord, he wants it so bad.
He wants Gabriel so bad.
At times his need sings in the back of his mind, ignored and repressed, an alluring, muted siren-song of lovelovelove. Of course it isn't love; they are lovers, Dean is willing to go that far. Friends. Almost equals. Everything else is merely mirages; they are in the desert after all.
Yeah, mirages.
Like mirages, the unsettling feelings disappear when the heat of the moment have evaporated and the cold reality of everyday life tugs at them both.
Their last day in the desert is hot, hot, hot and it makes Dean wish that the last stage back to the Sky Palace was shorter. The sun is hot enough to have the air shimmering, creating illusions of lakes and forests and sweet, shadowy oases in front of their eyes. Spring is here, early, the sweltering heat still on a low simmer, sneaking up on Earth, waiting to devour it when summer comes with its roaring storms and blazing sun. Spring also denotes Gabriel's return to work; being the Lord of Tempest comes with great responsibility, Dean knows that now.
Gabriel is not just an immature being with too much money and too little restraint. No, he is working to save humanity, Earth, at any cost. Dean admits that it earns Gabriel the relief and rest he takes when there is any to be had.
Sitting in the car, the day dying in front of them, Dean knows with a deep certainty that he is ready to stand by Gabriel, giving him support and strength to go through the ordeals that storms and floods create for him. Dean realizes that maybe he has changed as well. His worldview has changed, his priorities. It makes Dean drive on, silent, with Gabriel's hand in his, one hand on the wheel, thinking about how they—Gabriel and he—have turned into them and they and theirs.
It should have frightened him, but it doesn't. They are in this together.
Whatever 'this' might be.
The Impala roars and climbs the edge of the valley, hovering over the rocks and boulders as the sun sets behind them. The cool night air blows away the illusions of castles and cities, clearing the road that leads to Gabriel's castle. Dean sighs in relief; he likes the clarity of the night better.
In the horizon the Sky Palace perches on a cliff, like the nest of a stone eagle. The spires reach for the sky, the last sunlight making the palace's glazed stone roof shine like gold. Dean smiles. He stops the Impala, wanting to enjoy the sight of the beautiful, ancient castle. It's asleep now, quiet, because Gabriel is not there, but soon, in a few minutes, it will come to life, stir in its Snow White-sleep.
It hits him: he has missed it.
"We're home," Gabriel says.
Another whiff of cool night air clears Dean's mind.
"Yeah," Dean says. They are.
Home.
*
It has been an eventful winter, and when spring finally takes over it is as if they made a silent agreement, Gabriel and he: every time Gabriel is home, they fall into a slow, delightfully calm kind of domesticity. Dean thinks that Gabriel might need it as much as he does; late winter and the early spring are the only times of year that don't keep the Forever-Lords busy balancing Earth's sensitive equilibrium.
Another sensitive balance is the balance between Dean and his lover. Dean uses that term now. Lover. He likes it. He is certain it's the run-in they had with Alastair that did the trick; they are no longer opposing each other, not like they used to do. They are together, working together. Dean is ignoring that he is Gabriel's property, and Gabriel doesn't mention it. Gabriel has stopped being an ass, but he has not lost his sass, not that Dean would want him to. He enjoys it when other people are the target of Gabriel's snarky sarcasm and snappy jokes. Dean really thinks that they've both grown up a little, matured. Maybe they are simply getting used to each other and the life they have created together.
Dean has never thought he could live with anyone but Sam, but he likes life in the Sky Palace. Gabriel is damned hot, their sex is scorching and their deal is so much to Dean's liking that it scares him at times. Apart from the lack of freedom it is everything he'd ever wish for. But Heaven how he gets off on handing control over to Gabriel for a few hours.
Out of bed Gabriel treats him like his equal. Dean is no longer in doubt that Gabriel has a plan for him. The amount of books, files and documents that Dean is asked to study so that he is able to discuss them with Gabriel is staggering. So is the level of information and secrecy. Every other piece of paper that Dean picks up, and the main part of the files he opens on his Reader have Secret, For Your Eyes Only or Confidential written all over them. Dean is able to get the gist of it: Gabriel trusts him and since half of what Dean reads is state secrets, so does the High Lord. Yeah, Gabriel has a plan. Dean thinks that Gabriel might be planning to place him in some public office or other, although he can't for the love of the High Lord figure out why.
Dean knows that he's not stupid, but he's a fighter, not an administrator.
There is nothing to do but to wait. Dean could ask, but they don't do that. It's easier to let it go until Gabriel think it is time. Gabriel will tell him then, Dean is sure.
Dean is appreciated in ways he has never experienced before, and it makes him content. He might be in chains, but it doesn't feel like it unless he attempts to pull them. The torc doesn't come off, he can't have his rights back until August comes around, he can do nothing to protect them that Gabriel isn't already doing, nor can he undo the rules of the Cage. Gabriel is fighting the Council in vain: the High Lord won't change the law as long as Lord Alastair has strong supporters. The dark side is going to rebel if they can't have their perverse entertainment.
Dean has seen the light: there is no reason to take out on Gabriel things that are out of their control. What Dean can do, is to assist his lover and educate himself in all matters that Gabriel finds useful so that he can be of actual help.
Oh, and he can spread his legs for Gabriel whenever he wants it. Which happens to coincide beautifully with when Dean wants it.
Sex gets better the better they get to know each other. Dean is going to miss it. He has never had a better or more attentive lover. Yeah, he's going to miss it. Along with all the other things about Gabriel he is going to miss when he leaves the Sky Palace for good. If Dean is to be honest, he dislikes intensely the thought of leaving Gabriel, but there is no way around it: it's the only way Dean can keep his self respect and the respect of others. They don't talk about it, and Dean doesn't want to think about it, either. He wants to enjoy the last few months living in the lap of, well, Gabriel. He doesn't care shit about the luxury—he can do without.
He's becoming increasingly sure that the one thing he can't do without is Gabriel.
Their relationship is beginning to look damned much like a real relationship and Dean likes everything about it, except that it feels that way.
They don't talk about that, either. Why would they? It works, and time flies because they are both busy with work and with each other. Being fourth in line to the throne is damned hard.His mischievous little Lord Gabriel actually is working his delightful ass off on a regular basis. Nobility is hard earned, at least when it includes saving people from the raging weather.
The weather rarely leaves them time to do more than making love, study and tame tempests. But it happens.
"Let's invite our family and friends, just a small dinner," Gabriel suggests one day, the forecast promising steady and sunny for a week. "Lucifer and Sam. Benny and his kids and wife? We could ask them to stay for a few days. If you want to, that is."
Dean is damned sure that slaves and playthings don't get to invite their loved ones to anything, nor do they attend parties instigated by their owners, and Gabriel's suggestion is the sole thing, the one event that suddenly breaks him beyond repair.
*
"Has he told you about the spring ball yet?" Sam folds his napkin neatly and places it on the table. His plate is empty, not surprisingly, the lamb was fantastic. "Not that it's big news."
"Er," Dean says and sends Gabriel a quick glance. "No?" Dean scratches his chin distractedly. "Why? There is one every year. May first. We've been unfortunate enough to watch the live coverage once with Bela. Total proof that the woman is made from pure evil." Dean snorts derisively. The memory makes him laugh, still. "It was the year when Lord Michael got drunk and lost his pants in front of thirty million viewers. I suppose that might be the backside to being in the public eye all the time."
Gabriel is smirking. "I had absolutely nothing to do with that. I never spiked his wine with vodka. I never went into Michael's chambers and changed the drawstring in those pants with one that was meant to break, nor do I keep the original string as a dear memento." Gabriel makes an attempt to appear entirely innocent but fails spectacularly. He takes a piece of bread and wipes up the remains of sauce from his plate, pretending not to see Sam's expression.
"You didn't?" Sam looks scandalized for a moment before he laughs loudly. "I'm beginning to like you. Lord Michael is—"
"Entirely without humor and he has a stick up his butt the size of Empire State Building?" Gabriel chews and swallows, winking at Sam.
"That," Sam says, nodding. "And he's boring like fuck."
"I'm beginning to like you, too, Sammy." Gabriel pours more wine for Sam before the servants manage to do so.
"And what a dear thing that is to man. That you get along, that is," Lucifer says. He looks down his nose at Gabriel. "Are you taking Dean to the ball or not?"
Dean is not going to any ball, that's for sure. "Wait, no! I'm... I'm not frigging Cinderella. If Gabriel wants more servants to go with him he can take Samandriel!"
Gabriel and Lucifer both laugh and look at each other funny. Dean feels offended. He isn't aware that he has said anything that deserves those looks.
"To be presented at court, Dean, Gabriel says. "I haven't asked because I was sure you'd tell me exactly what you just told me."
"I'd like you to be there," Sam says, interrupting additional arguments before the begin. "We're no Forever-Lords, and Lucifer can't... They can take us, but we can't be a part of the official... He's going to bring me anyway." Sam's face turns sad for a moment. "You know as well as I do that no Forever-Lord has ever taken a human companion. Officially."
"It's not forbidden," Dean says. "Is it? I mean, nobody complained when Gabriel kissed me on public TV."
"It has never been done," Lucifer adds, inscrutable. "I'm not sure what will happen." He reaches for Sam's hand, a comforting touch. "People are used to Gabriel doing all sorts of odd shit, but me... I'm..."
"Wait, I'm Gabriel's illicit affair, and still he wants to show me off at court? It doesn't make sense." Dean doesn't know what to think about it. It's a case of politics, he supposes. Gabriel cannot afford to look weak, and flashing his debauchery—parading Dean in front of the entire court—certainly directs the attention to other matters.
"It's not like that," Gabriel says, earning himself a glare from Dean for the sneak peek into his thoughts. "I am not ashamed of you. I would like you to come with me. I didn't think that you'd mind demonstrating to the world how great your power is."
Dean chuckles. The sound is bitter in his mouth. "I don't—"
"No." Gabriel cuts him off immediately. "You have more power than you think. Stop thinking about your status as shameful or low. Perhaps to others it might seem so. Let us show them a different interpretation, baby. Imagine yourself in your finest tunic, chained and adorned with platinum and diamonds enough to feed a small country, so handsome that everybody who sees you wishes they were me, wishes that you would be willing to give them what you have given me willingly. Imagine them despair because you are the only man able to make me lose my mind. Imagine yourself wielding that power in public, demonstrating that even tied up and showed off, your power is so strong that all you need to do is to flutter your eyelashes at me, and a royal prince is at your service, entirely at your command." Gabriel reaches over to stroke Dean's hand. His expression is serious, his eyes honest. "Do you think there is anything I wouldn't do for you, Dean? Don't you want the world to know that I am yours to do with as you please?"
Dean knows the answer. The finer nuances of that kind power might not be understood by all, but they would be understand by those looking for shifts and exchanges of power. "Fine. I'll come with you." Dean thinks about it for a minute, drinking half a glass of wine without noticing. Gabriel is right. If he is going to that ball, anything that isn't entirely flamboyant, flashing exactly what it is they do together will make them both appear weak. Weak and ashamed and attempting to hide what Dean is and what he is to His Royal Highness Prince Gabriel of America. No, Gabriel is right. They have to flash it, play it out, show how Dean is able to wrap Gabriel around his little finger. It'll make Lord Alastair think twice too. Like that, it would be clear that Dean's worth vastly exceeds what Lord Alastair might be willing to pay—in more ways than one.
"If this is how life in high society commences," Benny tells Andrea, shaking his head, "I'm glad we're low society."
"Right," Dean grins. "Must be a total low for you. You and Andrea and the seventy million bucks my sweet ass got you. "
"You had your ass handed to you on a silver platter," Benny says, pretend innocent. The blue eyes sparkle. "Which is why I have your money, and you have... that little dick there." He points at Lord Gabriel.
"Benny!" Andrea swats at her husband. "Thank the High Lord the children are eating in the kitchen. Dammit, don't you have any manners?"
"I apologize for my guests, m'lady, some of them, at least," Gabriel says, attempting not to laugh. "Horrible standards. Nobody cares about politeness and decency these days; it's so sad."
*
They decide to take coffee outside, as much as the glass-covered piece of land inside the palace walls can be seen as being outside.
"My brother has changed," Lucifer says, taking a few long strides to catch up with Dean as they walk towards the stairs. "I suppose I have you to thank for it."
That is surprising. Dean didn't think that Lord Lucifer cared much about anything or anyone but Lord Lucifer. And Sam. It is obvious how smitten the Lord of Ice is with Sam; how in love he is. Dean doesn't particularly like Lord Lucifer. He is too much like a mako shark: fast and fierce and intelligent, only pretending to be calm and quiet until the moment it attacks the fish it is swimming with. Dean does, however, like how Sam lights up when he sees his lover. Dean likes the happiness that the love affair with Lucifer gives Sam.
Also, Dean is determined that he is going to shoot Lord Lucifer in the face if he hurts Sam, consequences be damned.
"I didn't do anything, M'Lord," Dean says, because he hasn't really done anything but to live in the Sky Palace and have hot, dirty sex with Gabriel. "But he's different now, that's true."
"Seeing that none of his family managed to do over millennia what you've managed in half a year, I'd say you've done enough," Lucifer says. "But enough praise. I don't particularly like you, Winchester, but I love Sam, and thus your well-being is a concern of mine."
"Likewise. And you really don't do much in the line of politeness at court, do you?" Dean snaps. "Here I thought that Gabriel was the arrogant little twat, and I've been wrong all along."
Lucifer stares at Dean for a second before he lets out a loud guffaw. "I suppose that is why we get along so well, Sam and I. The more I get to know him, and you, the more it is clear that the Winchesters never will be famous for their politeness, either. Anyway, point taken." Lucifer seems to bow out, deliberately avoiding confrontation. "Sam was worried for a while. On your behalf."
Maybe it's for Sam's sake, that Lord Lucifer attempts a modicum of politeness. Dean doesn't care—there is little gain from being confrontational with an ally, so Dean attempts to be polite too. "There is no reason to worry. I'm... content. It was a rough start, but I'm fine. Gabriel and I... we're good. What I don't understand is why you are so interested in what I do, My Lord. I mean, you and Lord Castiel and Gabriel... why are you—" Dean pauses. "You, you don't even like humans. Everybody knows that."
"True. I was against this entire enterprise from the beginning, when my father suggested that we moved our court to Earth. Then again, the place is the most beautiful spot in the universe, and—"
"Couldn't you have stayed? It wasn't strictly necessary for you to go? You have only contempt for humanity so why? It can't all be about location, location, location?"
Lucifer laughs, his honest smile changing his arrogant demeanor. "It's terribly boring, being sidelined. Our family has not always been this tightly knit. Both Gabriel and I were at odds with our father for a very long time. I was bored and Gabriel had a fit of teenage rebellion. We fought. We got better. At least I have something to do down here, actively despising humanity as a whole."
"And yet you help them when you are able? I mean, you're working like mad during the storm season and the rainy season and in between. You prevent Lord Alastair from buying Seconds and you, you personally, bought Meg when she lost the Cage and kept her at your palace for a full year, demanding nothing but her, training your guard. No—" Dean holds up a hand. "Don't deny it. Gabriel told me. So why?"
"I might not be a great lover of humans in general, although there are exceptions." Lucifer sends Sam a longing look. He shakes his head and sighs. Dean can't stop himself from smiling. Lucifer is almost cute in the way he seems to adore Sam. "As I said, I am not a great lover of humanity," Lucifer repeats. "But I am very much in favor of consent. I find the Cage fights entertaining, the tournament is a great tradition, it keeps the population happy and distracted and all that. Selling the Seconds, on the other hand? I find it unacceptable, as do the rest of my brothers and sisters who entertain the notion that free will is not something that can be bought and sold. We are all entitled to the freedom of choice. It's what connects us, humans and the Enay cocasb iaod zil tule." Lucifer uses the ancient name for the Forever-Lords. "It is what makes us one people."
Dean nods. If nothing else, they can agree on that, although the 'one people' leaves a lot to be desired when the Forever-Lords and a few of their chosen humans are the ones leading the Earth Council.
They walk along the balcony that surrounds the garden, down the stairs to the small oasis without speaking. As such Lord Lucifer has told Dean nothing new, but it is still somewhat nice to hear these admissions from the horse's mouth.
"Why Sam?" Dean finally says when they reach the bottom of the stairs. Lucifer's dislike for humans really is famous and Dean still has trouble understanding that Sam is excluded from that hatred. "Why?"
"The universe's attempt at irony, I suppose." Lord Lucifer huffs, as if he hasn't come to terms with his relationship himself. "My father—" Lord Lucifer looks a little tired at the thought of him. "My father sees everything, everything that has been written, and often he sees things that might come to be. He tells me that the universe made Sam for me. We are made for each other."
"So the Forever-Lords know everything? Just like that?"
"No. That's not how it works. My father sees... prophecies. He reads the weave of things as they are; he is the Lord of Possibilities. Free will turns possibilities into choices, and those choices become reality. Free will is what turns many possible realities into one that excludes the rest. Sam is mine and I am his, that is reality. My father has seen it, read the weave back into the beginning of time. We were made for each other. No matter which reality my father looked at, I would always end up here, with Sam, happy and in love. What will happen because of it? I don't know, and neither does my father because this is where free will and possibilities mingle. Not even my father knows what will come to be because of a union that has been meant to happen since nothing became something and the universe came to be."
Trying to wrap his mind around the brief insight into Forever-Lord metaphysics, Dean says, "But how does that make you stand humans? Where does Sam fit in?"
"I don't know. Maybe he was put here to teach me, just like you were put here to teach Gabriel."
Dean frowns. "I was not put here to teach Gabriel anything. He bought me, remember?"
"I beg to differ."
"So you argue that I'm a part of something like 'so it was written, so it shall be'-crap?"
"No, I'm saying that it might be the universe that have provided you with opportunity... like the one I had when Sam crossed my path. You might have met before, in another life, under another disguise, like Sam and I might have. Perhaps it is only now that you are ready for that commitment? I know I certainly wasn't ready for Sam."
It's not the same, very far from. Lord Lucifer can't possibly believe that the universe had this in store for him or for Gabriel. Of course Gabriel and he weren't meant for each other, that is pure idiocy, although Dean admits that he is sure that there won't be another man for him any time soon. Not until the universe has imploded and anything is made new and Dean no longer has any memory of golden eyes and mischievous smiles. Dean starts walking towards the center of the court. He is not sure what to say.
"There is a difference," Dean insists. "You love Sam. Maybe he's here to make you admit that you secretly love humans."
"And you love humanity." Lucifer's eyes glint fiery-cold. He smirks. "Maybe they'll teach you to admit that you're secretly in love with my brother."
"Oh, come off it," Dean snaps. "This is stupid. Of course I'm not in love with him."
"If you say so," Lucifer deflects the attack and pats Dean on the shoulder. "If you say so."
Before Lucifer is able to continue the conversation they are interrupted by Andrea and the children. Benny's offspring is unusually quiet and well-behaved but they are like bouncy little lambs at the sight of green grass and birds and shallow fountains to play in. They laugh and run down the stairs with a bunch of Gabriel's hounds chasing after them for fun; the dogs are as silly as the kids, playful and loud. Dean takes the opportunity and walks towards Sam. He has spent too little time alone with him; it is not just to avoid Lord Lucifer's too insightful observations.
The palace garden is brightly lit with hundreds of candles and torches. A table and a few couches are placed near the biggest of the fountains. Sam is already stretched out on one, as if the dining and reclining is natural behavior for him. Perhaps it is; Sam is spending most of his time in Lucifer's Snow Palace. Dean flops down on the couch opposite Sam.
Gabriel's roses are blooming and the night leaves them enough warmth to let their delicate scent permeate the air. Servants put up firebowls, in case any of the children should feel cold.
Sam and Dean are both quiet while the servants hover over them, placing a selection of drinks and delicacies in front of them. Sam doesn't look very impressed; he too is used to unlimited access to good food by now, not that either of them ever is going to take it for granted that there is food a plenty. Or forks enough so that everybody can have one.
Sam takes coffee and a piece of pineapple. Dean considers the coffee, but leaves it in favor of a glass of ice cold mango lassi. He's not willing to admit that he likes it, but it sort of grew on him.
"Really, Dean?" Sam's surprise is clear enough. "You do know what it is, right?"
"I'm fine. Shut up."
Sam smiles, one of those wide, perfect smiles, no tension, just relaxed happiness. Those smiles were once too rare, too far between, when they were both fighting to survive on hunts, hustling, and fake credit cards. "Could be worse," Sam says and Dean knows exactly what he means.
Dean is happy. There really is no other expression that covers his mood that instant, surrounded by family and friends. He takes a sip of his mango lassi, grinning at Sam. Sam rolls his eyes, all bitch-faced, just because. Of course he cannot fool Dean. It takes two seconds before Sam grins back and swats Dean over the head. Dean sticks his tongue out, threatening Sam with a strawberry. Sam turns over and grabs Dean's arm, reaching for the piece of fruit.
They are just about to start a mock fight out of sheer joy with life when Dean's robe slides half open at the pull on his arm.
Sam stops, his eyes wide. "What—"
"What, what?"
Sam's eyes are firmly set on Dean's chest. Sam points, indicating the chain and charms and diamonds that are attached to Dean's nipples, following the decorated chain further down where the end of it is hidden under the folded layers of the thin robe. "You're... he's..."
"He didn't force me," Dean says, preventing any wrong ideas. "On the contrary."
"Is it—" Sam starts. "No, don't tell me." He squirms, unaware that he has put his hand over his own crotch protectively.
"Yes. And it is still voluntary. And very... pleasant."
"I really, really don't want to know."
"Then stop asking."
"In your— That one. Is it—" Sam blushes. Dean finds it adorable. His little brother is such a dork.
"Stop asking. But yes. It is attached to my dick."
"High Lord, stop answering!" Sam closes his eyes and flinches.
"You and Lucifer were busy giving me and Gabriel relationship advice, I'll be happy to provide a similar service," Dean says, a wide grin on his face. Oh, this is fun. "It makes for interesting sex to play with—"
"No!" Sam cries. "I beg you!"
"Look, it feels good, I like that Gabriel likes how I look, and assure you that it makes for fantastic sex, so stop worrying."
"Please?" Sam turn all puppy-eyed and Dean takes mercy on him.
They are quiet for some time. Dean leans back in the pillows, simply enjoying life and a little bit that he made Sam uncomfortable. Personally there isn't anything that Dean would like to know about Sam and Lucifer's sex-life, so he empathizes, not that it'll prevent him from teasing Sam again at another time if he feels like it. Maybe he will explain to Sam in a more serious manner that he is not ashamed of how he looks, that he truly likes being adorned with the physical signs of Gabriel's affection. He might hold back a bit on how much he likes to show them off, though.
"You and Lucifer," Dean says instead. "He told me that you are made for him."
"And he for me," Sam says. "I am still not sure what will come of it; he is not always open about his plans."
"But you believe him?" Dean is still battling the concept.
"I believe it, yes. And I believe I have a choice; it is not up to Lucifer alone."
"Could be worse," Dean admits. "He really makes you happy." He needs only look at Sam when Lucifer is brought up. "No, don't answer that, dude, you are totally besotted."
"Pot, kettle." Sam gets an annoyingly smug expression and he sits back, one eyebrow raised at Dean. "Are you going to stay? Here?"
They understand each other so well. Sometimes. "No. I can't." Dean looks at Benny and Andrea. They look happy, too, playing with their kids. The smallest is rolling around in the soft grass, three of Gabriel's terriers yipping and jumping around him, while the middle child is trying to climb Benny's huge shoulders. The oldest boy is helping Andrea build a small boat; maybe they're going to launch it in the biggest fountain. There were times when Dean wanted that, all of it, wife, kids. The life Benny has, not Benny's life, but something like it. No more. Now Dean doesn't know what to do, where to go. All he knows is that he cannot stay. "It's going to kill me, I know," Dean admits. "I'm not his thing. I have to go."
Sam is quiet for a while. "You have changed," he says, "and so has Gabriel. Lucifer says so."
"I know," Dean agrees. "He's not what I thought he'd be. Or he is, it's just... different now. He's... He's..."
"You're in love with Gabriel, aren't you?" Sam asks, without looking at Dean. "You're totally in love."
Maybe it's time to be honest. With Sam, with himself.
"Yeah," Dean almost whispers, putting words to what he feels for Gabriel for the first time, his heart aching as if it is breaking. He rubs a hand over his mouth, as if it'd been better to keep in the confession. "I am. Deeply, irrevocably in love with him."
The realization is bittersweet.
*
April turns out to be one hell of a bitch. Luckily Gabriel and Dean are far too busy for Dean to think much about his feelings for his lover. Feelings are a minefield anyway; nothing good can come from poking around in them. Dean is even more determined not to stay his welcome. Once in a while he catches his picture in a mirror, the torc around his neck representing everything that is wrong with his life.
Perhaps it had been better to be a slave in any other household, Alastair's exempt. It would have had been harder and more boring, that's for sure, but leaving would have been easy. Now there is another piece of junk around Dean's neck, together with the torc, one that isn't as easily removed. It comes with ties and chains, bound to his heart. He pushes the thought away. He can worry about that when the torc opens and he has his freedom back. Then Dean can fade away, out of Lord Gabriel's life, back into his own. One that does not have perky little Forever-Lords in it.
It's going to be easier said than done, though, what with Sam living in sin with Lord Lucifer, and himself chosen by Gabriel for some position of trust or other, one he might actually want to keep after the year is over because it might put food on the table.
Good thing, Dean finds, is that there are months left before he has to decide.
Looming in the near future, however, is the ball. Dean doesn't want to go. He's got a choice; Gabriel has never denied him anything, and if Dean would rather stay home to rub the hounds on their bellies or make an inventory of the plates in the kitchen, Dean is sure that he can do that. He knows that Gabriel can't say no to him. The problem is that Dean is unable to deny Gabriel anything as well. Dean is remarkably invested, not only in Gabriel's wishes, but in his happiness, his political future, his health, his status and just about everything Gabriel, from the way he smiles when he wakes up in the morning to the adorable way he snores when he falls asleep at night, wrapped up in Dean's embrace or spooning him from behind.
Dean is so, so, so fucked.
Of course he's going to that ball with Gabriel.
Apart from that, Dean really doesn't care too much about what's going to happen at said ball. It's not his to plan or plot or think about, and he's happy that way. They have decided already to make a show out of it, play the audience as they play their games. Dean is beginning to understand the underhanded power plays that go on at court, and if they can counter it with a game of sex and dominance, canceling out the political game by making their opponents uncomfortable, Dean can go with that. They are turning their weakness into a piece of armor, they are going to use it as their shield. All Dean needs to do, according to Gabriel, is to dress nicely, behave like a sultry, pampered boy and let Gabriel handle the rest. Dean decides to go with the flow. If Gabriel finds it appropriate to show him off, Dean really is fine with it.
Dean is not entirely willing to admit that the set-up is tapping into his slight exhibitionism. It's not as if he gets off on being paraded half-naked in front of cameras and dignitaries, but he does like it a lot that he is desired. And Dean will show the world the power he holds over Gabriel: they will feel it in their own hearts, in the way their cocks stir or their cunts get wet at the sight of him. Besides, half the population on Earth has seen Dean in the Cage, the only thing preventing him from being stark naked the pair of cut-off jeans he liked to fight in.
He has nothing to be ashamed of.
His only duty is to Gabriel. His duty is to him and to the game they play, the power they try to take, the strength they need to gain. His duty is to make Gabriel stronger. His duty is to please Gabriel.
Which is why they are going to have scorching hot sex right after the ball, because Dean is sure that he'll be incredibly, overwhelmingly aroused when they are done.
Heaven, he gets off on Gabriel's power so hard.
*
As the days pass by, it becomes evident to Dean that the bed is not the only thing Gabriel wants to share with him. It hasn't been for the fun of it that Dean has been encouraged to read books on politics and strategy. It starts with the little things, like Gabriel asking Dean whether he could take over overseeing the guards and come up with a way to improve their training and security in general. Sure, Dean can do that, and he enjoys it, engaging in close combat training again, planning strategies with the captain of Gabriel's guard. Captain Garth, a lanky man of questionable strength, but with superior intelligence accepts his assistance happily, going on about love and peace between man, followed by accounts of many varied ways that Captain Garth would like to kill anyone belonging to Lord Alastair's faction, preferably Lord Alastair himself.
Dean likes the man. Not just because Garth knows the proper use of weapons that Dean didn't even knew existed, but because he's a genuinely nice guy who likes everybody. As long as 'everybody' is not Lord Alastair. Dean likes that sentiment too.
Out of shape, Garth works Dean over until he is sore and tired. Luckily he isn't that out of shape, and after two weeks, his body starts doing what he tells it to do, much to his soldiers' regret.
Dean has bruises that Gabriel huffs at and heals, so that he can make other bruises to decorate Dean's skin before he is off again, fighting another cloudburst down south. Dean thinks it amuses Gabriel to see Dean's body change, get harder, more athletic. He's not back to cage-fighter strength, but he's getting there.
Garth is good company; he has extensive knowledge about strategy and training, and only his gentle disposition (except when it comes to Lord Alastair) keeps him from being the perfect leader of the palace guard. It doesn't seem to bother Garth, though. He tells Dean that he is happy to have a proper fighter take over.
It takes two weeks before Dean realizes that he has been moved into a position as de facto commander of the palace guard, his talents as a strategist, fighter and hunter put to use. He doesn't flinch when his soldiers start calling him Commander Winchester.
After that it is the archive in the basement; something that turns out to be a collection of hand-written accounts, intelligence, kept that way as not to end in the wrong hands. Then Gabriel asks for Dean's opinion on how to deal with corrupt officials in his administration. Later it is Gabriel asking for Dean's assessment on how the general public will react to this or that, always interested in Dean's opinion on the effect on the humans under his rule.
It takes Dean yet another week to figure out that he is now His Royal Highness Prince Gabriel of America's personal adviser.