Fic: Prince Incognito (1/3)

[firesign10]

Back to Masterpost

Sam Wesson stood in the middle of the Stanford campus and sighed with delight. All around him lay beautifully groomed green lawns, studded with groups of students and their families roving around. Various buildings punctuated the sprawling lawns, ranging in style from ornately classical to sleekly modern, and Sam couldn't wait to explore them, find out where his classes would be. Today was just for doing a little reconnaissance, though, and he had books to buy and an apartment to settle into. He sighed again, stretching his long arms in the California sunshine before turning to rejoin his companion, who was waiting patiently a few steps away.

His bodyguard, Benny Lafitte, was keeping a vigilant eye on Sam while also constantly scanning the area. Benny was Sam's friend as much as his employee, but he never failed to take his job of guarding Sam with anything less than deadly intent. Benny's stocky, muscular frame made him look intimidating at first, but his soft voice -- still resonating with a hint of his native Creole accent -- was warm and friendly . . . as long as there was no threat to Sam.

Sam knew that college was going to be a challenge for both of them; Benny had a new, complex environment to keep Sam safe in, and Sam himself had to do . . . . everything. Do well in his classes, try to have a social life, keep his real identity under wraps. He wasn't just another freshman glorying in the beautiful California weather and lovely surroundings; he wasn't just a tall, handsome young man with exotic eyes and a ready smile. In fact, he wasn't really Sam Wesson at all.

He was Samuel Henry Winchester, His Royal Highness of the House of Winchester, second son to His Majesty, John Winchester, king of Lawrencia.

\o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/

Castiel Singer plodded along the gray concrete sidewalk, oblivious to his surroundings. An armload of books bowed his thin shoulders, the corners digging into his ribs. His black glasses were slowly sliding down his nose, but he couldn't free a hand to push them back up. His thick black hair stuck out messily in every direction.

"Heads up!" a voice cried out, and Castiel raised his head just in time to see a Frisbee headed at him. He dropped his books and fell to the grass, cringing as he anticipated the shock of the Frisbee crashing into him. Instead, it just sailed over his prone form, and he blew out a breath before sitting up and brushing bits of grass off his gray argyle sweater vest. His books were sprawled around him, and he frowned as he began to collect them. Stupid college boys, playing their stupid games all over the lawns. He ignored the pang in his chest at the thought of playing carefree games with good-looking boys who would call to him, "Hey, Cas! To you!" That was not the kind of thing that happened to him.

"Hey, are you okay? I am so sorry," said a warm baritone voice, and Castiel whirled around in surprise. His eyes went up and up, because this boy apparently hadn't known when to stop growing. A mop of dark brown hair crowned the well-over-six-foot young man, and his foxy, blue-green eyes looked anxiously down at Castiel.

"I didn't see you coming, and then I'd already thrown it. I'm so glad it didn't hit you, but I'm sorry for making you hit the dirt like that." He stuffed some of Castiel's books back into his arms. "Oh wow, an LSAT study guide? Are you planning on law school? Me too! I mean, I'm only a freshman, but I'm going to go to law school. What year are you? You must be an upperclassman, if you're already planning for the LSAT?"

He beamed a big, white smile, framed by deep dimples, at Castiel, who was standing there somewhat dumbfounded.

"My name's Sam, Sam W -- Wesson. Freshman. Like I said already, I guess." His smile was blinding.

"Castiel, Castiel Singer. Yes, I'm a junior." Castiel found his tongue looser now that he'd gotten a few words out. "You guys are so irresponsible! There are other people on campus, you know, it wouldn't kill you to be a little more considerate! We can't all be tall and graceful and . . . and beautiful, you know!" he blurted.

Feeling completely flustered, he shook himself free of Sam's allure as well as his physical presence and hastily walked away. He totally ignored the fact he was walking in the wrong direction.

As he departed, he shot a quick look out of the corner of his eye and saw Sam still standing there, looking after him with a crestfallen expression.

\o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/

As the next few weeks went by, Castiel found himself daydreaming of that encounter often. He told himself it was because Sam and his friends were so irritating, but deep inside he knew it was something more than that. He resolutely busied himself with his mounds of schoolwork, but it was hard to forget the handsome freshman.

As he walked between classes, Castiel overheard a number of conversations about a mysterious new student. Apparently, a prince of some minor European kingdom was attending the university incognito, and speculation was rife. Castiel briefly amused himself thinking of countless freshmen around campus who were being flirted with and catered to without any idea why.

Castiel's own social interactions had been characterized by awkwardness all his life. He kept to himself a great deal, and he had never dated. He wondered what flirting and dating would be like. As much as he pooh-poohed silly behavior of that nature, secretly he wished he knew what it felt like. Surely it must be pleasant, even enjoyable -- otherwise why would people engage in it so much? He sighed despondently. He was unlikely to ever find out for himself.

Classes hummed past. Days were filled with lectures, papers, studying. Castiel was determined to do well; his education was funded by scholarships and a college program for foster children, and he meant to make the most of it. His parents, Bobby and Ellen Singer, had fostered him when he was in fifth grade, and subsequently adopted him a couple of years later. Bobby was a gruff but kindly man, busy with his salvage shop and garage, but always free enough to coax a reluctant Castiel into the backyard to toss a baseball or football, and help him with history papers. Ellen was a no-nonsense woman who cooked up hearty meals for "her men," as she referred to them, and if she wasn't a big cookie-baker, well, she had a sharp, analytical mind and a sense of fairness that both grounded Castiel and pushed him to make the most of himself. They never seemed to mind his stilted words and stiff embraces, but simply hugged him and encouraged him in everything he did. He loved them very much, even if he found it hard to express that to them.

The only thorn in Castiel's side at the moment was Brady Roman. Brady was the smart-ass son of a rich business tycoon, Richard "Dick" Roman of Roman Enterprises, who apparently had no problem paying out enormous sums for tuition regardless of his son's academic failures. Brady was constantly on academic probation, yet never ceased his partying and carousing. He was a junior like Castiel, and Castiel had to put up with Brady's obnoxious presence in several classes. Brady had figured out that Castiel was a top student and frequently harassed him for notes, paper outlines, and study guides. Castiel always tried to put Brady off, but Brady ceaselessly pressured him, haranguing him and hounding him until Castiel would finally give in just to get some peace.

When Brady wasn't after Castiel's notes, he was after Castiel's dignity. Brady had great fun teasing Castiel about his lack of a social life, his dearth of dates, and what a klutz he was. Brady's teasing and bullying made Castiel's awkwardness intensify ten-fold, until the young man could scarcely carry a book across the room without dropping it or stumbling, fighting back tears all the while. Castiel never considered saying anything to anyone about this; he knew Dick Roman was a very powerful man who contributed a lot of money to the university, and that Brady was unlikely to suffer any punishment for his actions, much less actually stop them. So Castiel gritted his teeth and tried to ignore Brady when he could, struggling to endure him when he couldn't be ignored.

Lately, Brady could be heard scoffing about the whole incognito-prince rumor.

"Of course there's no prince studying here anonymously! I would certainly be aware of him! There's no way someone of that social and monetary stature could be attending Stanford without my father knowing about it! It's just a ridiculous rumor!"

And off he went, chasing after another pretty girl or attending another party, trampling anyone in his path.

Castiel watched Brady go on about his business, coming as close to hate as he ever had, but also wondering -- what was it like, all the parties and the dating? How did it feel to have someone look at you, their face aglow because you were there with them? What did it feel like to touch someone, your hand on their skin, the warmth of their hand on yours? He hugged and was hugged by his parents, but he could tell the difference between that and when Bobby and Ellen hugged each other. He could see the love between them, a type of love he was unfamiliar with, and he felt very lonely.

Sometimes at night, he had a different sort of uncomfortable feelings -- strong urges from deep inside himself that left his pajamas sticky and wrinkled the next morning. He scarcely even wanted to touch himself, but some of those long, solitary nights he couldn't help it; sliding his hand inside his pajama pants and gripping himself, stroking reluctantly until he couldn't hold back and gave in to his urges. His orgasms were furtive and joyless, despite the physical relief they briefly gave him.

\o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/

Sam frequently caught sight of Castiel after their run-in; walking briskly along the sidewalks, arms full of books and heavy backpack hanging down. His hair was always sticking up in all directions, his black glasses askew, his shirt tail hanging out beneath his sweater vest. He seemed to ignore the rest of the students, remaining focused on his own path and simply avoiding anyone else. It made Sam's heart ache a little, how lonely the other man always looked.

He began to try and catch up with Castiel, but it was harder than it seemed. Castiel was usually too far away for Sam to catch him before he disappeared, leaving Sam gazing over the crowd in frustration. Benny got very annoyed about this as well, scolding Sam for running off before Benny could follow. Sam rolled his eyes, but knew he had to obey Benny in this; Sam's safety was Benny's job, and Sam even being allowed to attend Stanford like this had been contingent on his following Benny's direction. John, Sam's father and the King, would think nothing of ordering Sam to return home on the next plane, with Sam's things packed back up and shipped directly afterward. So Sam stopped trying to chase Castiel -- but not trying to meet him.

Sam (and Benny) went to the administration building, where Sam most charmingly asked for a copy of Castiel's schedule. Sam was going to ask for the location of his dorm room as well, but Benny had shaken his head, pointing out that was more "stalker" than "potential date". The administrator was initially reluctant to give out this information, but Sam batted his puppy-like eyes and smiled an extra shiny smile, and Benny made an oblique reference to royal concerns, and there was the paper in his hands.

Sam was doing well in all of his classes, so he didn't mind missing a couple in order to "run into" Castiel. He loitered in the hallway outside one of Castiel's classes, lingering near the door when it opened to release the class. There he was! Castiel's messy black hair made him easy to find, and Sam loped after him, Benny following close by.

"Hey, Castiel! Hey!" Sam called.

Castiel didn't seem to hear him at first, because he kept walking. Sam caught up to him, slowing to a walk to keep pace with the shorter man.

"Hey, Castiel, how are you? Remember me? Sam, you know, with the Frisbee?"

Sam looked at him anxiously. Did he really not remember him? Seeing that Sam was six foot four and reasonably handsome (he knew that without vanity), being forgotten wasn't something that happened to him very often.

Castiel stopped and looked at him, seeming to take in who Sam was finally. His eyes shone through the clunky glasses, and Sam thought what a beautiful combination bright blue eyes made with fair skin and black hair. Dorky sweater vest and messy hair aside, Castiel was really a good-looking guy, with high cheekbones set in a wide face and a soft-looking mouth.

"Um, yeah, yeah . . . I remember. You kept me from getting hit by the Frisbee. And I . . .uh, I got kinda cranky about it. Sorry."

Sam smiled happily. This was going swimmingly!

"No problem! I'm just glad you remembered me."

Castiel looked him up and down.

"Well, yeah. You are kinda . . . tall."

Progress! Sam thought. We're talking! He started walking slowly, this time guiding them to the exit that was closest to his favorite coffeeshop.

"Yeah, my parents were starting to wonder if I was ever gonna stop! My older brother is four years older but three inches shorter than me. Listen, why don't we go get some coffee and we can chat a bit, get to know each other? I'm new here, and I'd love to make a friend."

Castiel looked at him sharply, and Sam wondered at the caution he saw in his face.

"Me? Friends . . . with me?"

"Sure. Yeah. You. Is that a big deal or something?"

Castiel looked down, poking at some invisible point on the sidewalk with his toe.

"No, not a big deal at all." He looked up, bright blue eyes staring right into Sam's. "That would be great."

They chatted pleasantly over coffee and pastry. Castiel relaxed enough to laugh a little when Sam was silly, and they found some common interests. Sam studied his new friend, noting the wide smile and how his eyes sparkled when he got excited about something. He also noted how twitchy Castiel was; any loud noise or sharp sound made him jump and look around nervously. He wondered what was up with that.

"So, Sam, can I ask something?"

Castiel was picking at a corner of his mini strudel, crumbling the pastry bits onto the plate, his eyes darting to Sam and away again.

"Sure, dude. If I can answer it, I will."

That was Sam's stock answer, because he would love to answer anything -- but he knew some things he couldn't, not without revealing his identity.

"What's with the guy following you?"

"What? What guy?" Sam tried to bluff it out, eyes wide and innocent.

Castiel gave him a pointed look. "I'm not stupid, you know. There's a guy following you all the time, and he's sitting two tables away having an espresso and a muffin. If he's stalking you, then he's doing a sucky job of it, so there must be another reason."

Sam looked over at Benny, who answered with the tiniest of head shakes. Sam sighed as he turned his gaze back to Castiel.

"This is the truth -- I just can't tell you all of it. Not . . . not right now, anyway. He's not stalking me. In fact I'm quite safe with him. And that's really all I can say right now. Can you trust me?"

Castiel's eyes moved over Sam, and it felt like a light caress. Castiel's expression was as unguarded as Sam had ever seen it, and it was like unwrapping a box to find a lovely gift inside.

"Yeah, Sam. I'll trust you."

Sam felt an unexpected rush of emotion at Castiel's declaration. He swallowed hard and extended his hand. "Thank, man. Thank you."

Castiel lay in bed that night, replaying the coffee date with Sam. Huh . . . date. That had been a date. Even with his inexperience, Castiel felt sure that the current flowing between Sam and him was more than one of friends. And shaking Sam's big hand, his own hand enveloped in it, well -- the skin-to-skin contact had been electrifying. Sam's skin had been so warm, his palm rubbing against Castiel's so stimulating, like electricity shooting up Castiel's arm.

Now it seemed to be running through his whole body, and he didn't even think about it as he pushed his pajama bottoms down and grabbed his cock. He played it all again; staring into Sam's now-blue, now-green eyes, his high cheekbones, that cupid's bow mouth moving as he laughed and talked. Those shoulders, that height, Jesus, that lush hair, long and tumbled down his neck. Those hands with their long elegant fingers, and the muscular forearms emerging from the rolled up cuffs of a soft green Henley.

Castiel gasped softly as he jerked himself hard and fast, feeling a sensitivity and urgency that was new to him. He heard himself whine as his orgasm spiraled up, then moaned loudly as he peaked, thick white fluid spilling over his fingers and groin. He gently squeezed himself a few more minutes as the aftershocks receded, panting in the dark while his heart slowed back down. He grabbed some tissues from his nightstand and wiped himself off, pulling his pajamas and blanket back up before he closed his eyes to sleep. His second-to-last thought was what a difference thinking of a real person made even to masturbating.

His last thought was of Sam's changeable eyes.

He kept running into Sam after that, here and there around the campus. They went for coffee several times, and then they started to go for lunch, always finding a lot to talk about. Sam's wide smile and unabashed laugh made Castiel smile too, made his heart feel lighter, made it seem that there was more to his days than constant work and avoiding Brady Roman. Castiel didn't know if this was full-out dating, but he thought it certainly was close. Even as winter advanced and the days grew colder and darker, Castiel's world . . . was brighter.

Castiel was so wrapped up in spending time with Sam that he'd lost track of the whole rumor about a prince on campus. As he waited in the student union to meet Sam, he overheard a nearby conversation between two girls who were deep in speculation about the unknown prince.

"I heard he is really, really handsome, and really athletic too. I started looking at the whole football team, but nobody there seems foreign. Maybe when the basketball team starts --" one of the girls said, her long hair in a pony-tail that hung down her back.

The other chimed in eagerly, "It would be so exciting to meet him! Just think, some lucky girl on campus could be the next Queen! Maybe that's why he's here, to find a bride. You know, like in Coming to America!" Her face fell and her teased ringlets shook in dismay. "What if he's black? My dad won't let me marry a black guy, even if he is a prince!"

The first girl scoffed. "I don't care if he's black and blue, or even rainbow! He's a prince! Besides, your dad is a stupid racist."

"Yeah, yeah he is. A redneck stupid racist. How on earth did he even get into Stanford before? I got in because he's an alumnus." She sighed heavily.

"Because he's a rich redneck racist. Don't think Stanford turns down good hard cash! Look at Brady Roman -- he'd never be here if his daddy wasn't Dick Roman!"

Both girls dissolved into giggles.

"Dick Roman! How does anyone look him in the eye? 'Hi, Dick, how ya doing?'" the first girl cackled.

Her friend shook her head, her laughter dying down. "I heard that Sheila saw him when he came to dedicate the new dorm wing, and he was scary! Like, he seemed super-nice and was wearing a gorgeous suit, but she said his eyes were like a shark's! Black and soulless! She said his smile was all teeth, and he looked like he would eat you as soon as look at you! No wonder Brady is such an arrogant asshole!"

Castiel kept his eyes glued to his book, but his ears were listening furiously. It was interesting to hear some scoop about the supposed prince as well as his own nemesis, Brady. Maybe it had been all the time he was spending with Sam, but he hadn't seen much of Brady lately. Perhaps he'd found some unlucky, new target to torment. Knock on wood . . .

Sam arrived in a flurry of legs and floppy hair, and Castiel promptly forgot about minor annoyances like Brady Roman and concentrated on his funny, warm, and lovely friend. He really didn't even notice Benny anymore, sitting his usual two tables away.

\o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/

Sam looked at Castiel and wondered if it was okay to say "boyfriend". They hadn't even kissed yet, but their time together was now the high point of Sam's day. He'd watched as Castiel relaxed more and more around him, started to smile and laugh, to joke and keep his big blue eyes on Sam to see if Sam got it. Oh yeah, Sam got it all right. Sam had gotten it bad.

He came out of his momentary reverie to see those eyes on him now. Castiel was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you okay, Sam? Do you feel all right?" he inquired anxiously.

Sam nodded, searching for the right words.

"I'm fine, Cas. It's just that there's something -- something I want to say, and I'm not sure how to say it.

Castiel's expression went blank as his eyes lowered. He sat up straighter, pulling away from Sam as he did so.

"Of course, Sam." His voice was cool.

Sam looked at him with surprise.

"Cas, what is it? Are you worried about what I want to say? It's nothing bad, I promise. Well, I don't think it's bad, but I guess it's up to you." He reached out and out his hand over Castiel's. "It's okay, dude, it's okay."

Castiel took a deep breath and faced Sam.

"Go ahead."

Sam smiled at him affectionately.

"I guess I don't even know if this is your thing or not, but I want to ask if you'd go out with me. Exclusively. Like . . . as my boyfriend."

Castiel looked shocked, his jaw dropping and his eyes going wide.

"I don't really know if you're gay or bi or whatnot, but I get the feeling that you like me, and more than just a friend. So if you're not gay, then forget I said this, but if you think you'd like to -- " Sam's words wound down as he waited a bit nervously for Castiel's answer.

Castiel's face lit up and he launched himself at Sam, knocking books off the table en route.

"YES! Yes, Sam, I would like that very, very much!" Castiel babbled. He wrapped his arms around Sam and hugged him tightly, burying his face in Sam's shoulder. Sam laughed and hugged him back, kissing the messy black hair that was all he could see of his boyfriend. He reached in and pried Castiel's face out to find it pink and shiny with tears.

"Hey, hey, what's that? Are you okay? We don't have to do this if you don't --"

"No! No! It's wonderful! I'm just -- I'm really happy and a little overwhelmed. Why does someone like you want to go out with someone like me? You're so tall and handsome and popular and tall and --"

Sam shook his head, stroking Castiel's damp cheek as he shushed him.

"You're pretty wonderful too, Cas. This isn't some kind of pity thing, this is an I-really-like-you thing. Smart you, funny you, sweet you. So hush up."

Castiel wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gave a little laugh.

"Okay."

His eyes kept moving over Sam's face, as if waiting to see whether it was a trick after all. Sam kissed his nose and hesitated there, his face so close to Castiel's that their breath mingled. He bent his head a little more and gently pressed his lips against Castiel's soft mouth. For a moment there was no response, and he was just about to pull away when suddenly Castiel's mouth moved under his and pressed back. Sam cupped his hand behind Castiel's head and kissed him more firmly, relishing the feel of the other man's lips against his. He pulled back for a moment, checking that Castiel was really okay with this, and got an eyeful of a blissed-out Castiel.

". . .more?" Castiel mumbled.

Sam chuckled.

"All you want, baby. These lips belong to you now."

They kissed again, oblivious to the other people sitting and walking around them. Sam licked softly against Castiel's mouth, and when it opened under his, their tongues slid together in a mixture of passion and sweetness. This time Sam broke the kiss before things escalated, because he could already feel his heart speeding up and his cock hardening. He urgently wanted to explore this new side of their relationship, but not in the middle of the student union food court. Or in front of Benny. Even bodyguards had to allow a little privacy to their charges.

\o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/ \o/\o/\o/

Castiel walked back to his dorm in a daze. Sam liked him. Sam liked him. Him! He wondered if he should go buy a lottery ticket, if this kind of luck was going to go on.

Five minutes later, all the luck ran out.

Someone blocked Castiel's path, shoving at him and pushing him off the sidewalk. Castiel grunted as he barely kept from falling, then looked to see who the asshole was.

Brady.

Brady Roman, all sneering mouth and hate-filled eyes, ready to harass his favorite target. Castiel tried to keep from cringing, but the way Brady's torment had been escalating and becoming ever more physical lately, Castiel had to admit he was afraid. What if this time it wasn't words, but blows? What could Castiel do against that kind of violence? He felt he didn't have any recourse with the school, since Brady's father was Dick Roman, a man of endless funds and a rumored lack of scruples. Castiel began to shiver, and it wasn't just from the early winter chill in the air.

"So, Cas, what the hell was that little display in the student union about? Now, on top of being a dork and a nerd, you're a queer? Is that what you are, Cas, a stinkin' faggot? You and the shaggy sasquatch there? What I wanna know is, who's taking it up the ass, you or him?"

He pushed at Castiel again, a shove hard enough to rock him back a couple of steps.

"You're disgusting, you know that? You don't belong at a fine school like this, among decent people. You need to get the hell out of here, you little asshole, and go find some scummy school that likes faggots! Someplace far away from here!"

Brady's voice continually rose as he spoke, and by the last couple of sentences, he was punctuating his words with more shoves, pushing Castiel further and further off the pavement and onto the grass. Castiel tried to block his arm, twist away, but Brady was faster and stronger. Castiel briefly thought that he'd probably had a lot of practice in pushing people around like this, but then he had to pay attention so he wouldn't get knocked down. He didn't want to think about what would happen to him at Brady's hands -- or feet -- once he was on the ground.

More curses and slurs fell from Brady's lips as Castiel frantically tried to fend him off. He was breathing fast now, and his books had all been knocked onto the ground. His foot struck a rock and he felt himself start to fall when a strong hand grabbed his arm and hoisted him back up. Castiel gasped a "thank you" as he looked up to see . . . Sam! Sam stood next to him, one hand firmly supporting Castiel as the other ran angrily through his long hair. His beautiful eyes were snapping now, glaring furiously at Brady.

"What the fuck are you doing, you douchebag? What the hell was that? You just go around pushing people around like this? What kind of total asshole are you?" Sam yelled.

He stopped talking, fighting to control his breathing, and Castiel could see his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching. He turned to Castiel and hugged him hard, then held him away by the shoulders and looked him over.

"Are you okay, Cas? Did he hurt you?"

He brushed randomly at Castiel's sweater, studying him with anxious eyes.

"Yeah, I'm . . . I'm okay. He just pushed me, he didn't hit me or anything." Castiel drank in Sam's nearness; suddenly all the ugliness with Brady didn't even matter, not with his beautiful boyfriend standing next to him.

"I called him what he is, Wesson. A filthy fag. And so are you! You both should get the fuck out of here, you fucking perverts! We don't want you here!" He feinted like he was going to strike them, moving toward Castiel with a quick jump.

Sam extended his arm with his big fist at the ready, and then Brady was on the ground, hand pressed to his cheek, where Castiel could already see a bruise starting.

"You fuckers! You slimy degenerates! My father will have you kicked out of this school! You've messed with the wrong guy! Just you wait! Lousy ass-fuckers!"

Picking himself up, Brady screamed at them before he turned and ran off, still holding his wounded face.

Castiel sighed, relief flowing through him. He knew it wasn't over, but just having Brady gone for the moment felt wonderful.

"Do you, uh, fight like that often?" he asked Sam, who was investigating the state of his knuckles. They were red and a little scraped.

"Oh, no, not at all. But I've had self-defense classes all my life, and done some sparring and boxing. Even took karate for a few years, that was really fun. I think maybe you could use some pointers and a little sparring practice, huh? The point isn't really to hurt anyone, it's just to defend yourself if you need it."

His eyes kept roving over Castiel with concern. And . . . affection. A lot of affection. Affection that made Castiel feel tingly.

He nodded. Sam made a lot of sense there. It would be nice to think he'd never need knowledge like that to protect himself, but this encounter alone proved that that was not always the case.

"Yeah, that might be good. Not like I have can pop some wings out and fly away, right?" He smiled wryly at Sam, who grinned back at him.

"Nope! Benny can show you how, he gave me a lot of my coaching. And speaking of . . . "

Benny joined them, looking Sam over discreetly.

"Are you all right . . . Sam?"

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm fine, Benny. Thanks for letting me take care of it. I think we need to teach Cas a little bit about self-defense, okay? But not right this minute."

"Of course. It didn't look like I needed to get involved -- you looked to be handling yourself just fine. Good work!"

Sam blushed at Benny's praise. Castiel went over to where his books were lying on the ground and gathered them up, brushing dirt and grass off them.

"Thank you . . . I didn't mean to be such a damsel in distress, but -- thank you!"

"Hey, you would do the same for me, dude. You just agreed to be my boyfriend, I wanna keep you around, you know?"

He winked, and Castiel couldn't help laughing. He made a decision on the spur of the moment.

"Listen, I was going to go visit my parents this weekend -- would you like to come with me? Is it too early to be meeting parents? We'd just go for a while, you know -- hang out, and have dinner. It's nothing fancy, but my mom's a really good cook."

"Is this the couple who adopted you?"

Castiel nodded, looking down for a moment before meeting Sam's eyes again.

"I never knew my birth parents. They left me at a hospital sanctuary. I was in a children's home for a while, and then a couple of different foster families until Bobby and Ellen took me in. I was so happy when they adopted me two years later. Just . . . knowing I had a real home, that I wasn't going to be floating around again . . . it was the best. They're really great."

Sam stroked his cheek and kissed him lightly. Castiel decided that he would never get tired of studying Sam's strong face or intriguing eyes.

"Yeah, Cas. I'd really like that."

On to Part 2