[9:08] Dean Campbell:

ugh

[9:09] Cas:

Good morning.

[9:09] Dean Campbell:

i dont wanna get out of bed

what if i just go back to sleep rn

i feel like i have somewhere to be but im too sleepy and i don't care enough to remember

[9:10] Cas:

Aren't you supposed to be having breakfast with, among others, your aunt? In twenty minutes??

[9:10] Dean Campbell:

FCUK

[9:10] Cas:

...Good luck

[9:24] Dean Campbell:

ok i think i just set a new record for quickest time to get ready ever

thanks for reminding me lmao

[9:25] Cas:

No problem

Glad you made it on time

[9:26] Dean Campbell:

haha yeah im walking to the sitting room rn

breakfast w the whole family... should be fun

[9:26] Cas:

...Again, good luck

***

*Joanna's P.O.V.*

It's a beautiful day outside, perfect for going out for smoothies and taking the scenic route back. It's a beautiful day, and Princess Jo Harvelle, second in line to the throne of Víteliú and beloved twin sister to Crown Prince Michael, darling of her country, et cetera et cetera, has a problem. A very, very massive problem. In fact, it is nothing short of a crisis.

And what is this crisis?

"Sorry, sorry, just a second," Charlie says, apologetic laughter in her voice. "I think like all of my lip gloss ended up on the straw and there's none left on my face. I really need to get some of that nice stain that doesn't come off on stuff, but I like gloss, you know?"

"I like liquid lipsticks, personally," Jo hears herself say absently, but she can't really bring herself to focus on conversation that much because Charlie has just pulled a compact mirror from her purse and a tube of lip gloss from her pocket and she's reapplying it, right here, right in front of Jo, as they stand alone together under the trees lining the path back to the palace, and they're alone and her lips are pink and...

Jo has never kissed anyone before, but boy oh boy would she like to.

Charlie hums in response, unable to speak because of the aforementioned lip gloss that she is currently applying, and good lord, Jo is really trying not to stare, but it's soft pink and shiny and—

"Is that glitter?" she asks, subconsciously leaning in a bit closer before realizing what she's doing and stopping herself. Is she blushing? Please let her not be blushing. "Your lip gloss has glitter in it?"

Charlie winks, capping the tube again and giving herself a quick final inspection before closing the mirror. "Yup!" she says, "It's strawberry flavoured, too. Wanna try some on?"

Jo has never really been given to impulsive decisions. She tends to fret about things to herself, knowing that an issue exists that needs to be resolved but always worrying about actually doing something to resolve it, though she's great at putting her foot down when she actually has to. But taking the initiative on some kinds of things is, um, not her strong suit.

So she really doesn't know what possesses her to say "Sure!" and then lean in the rest of the way, but somehow it ends with her clumsily pressing her lips to Charlie's, and, um, oh god what is she doing?—

Charlie is staring at her, wide-eyed.

"Wow," Jo says frantically. "That's... that's definitely strawberry, yup!"

"Are you..." Charlie shakes her head, and Jo internally cringes, because she probably totally misread the situation and 'oh no what if she's mad at her?' Would finding out that Jo's been in love with her for at least a year now ruin their friendship?

"Sorry," she starts to squeak out, face burning as she hides behind her hands, but Charlie's already talking again.

"Are you telling me," she says, and that's funny because she doesn't sound mad at all. She actually almost sounds like she's trying to withhold laughter. "Are you actually telling me that I've spent ages wondering how I should confess to you, and when I should ask you if you'd let me officially court you and—and all of that's for nothing because you just pulled a cliché rom-com move on me and you did it so well you literally left me speechless for a minute?"

Charlie pouts. Her eyes are dancing with suppressed mirth, though, and she pries Jo's hands away from her face with a firm but gentle touch.

"Wait," Jo blinks. The uncertainty is starting to drain away, replaced by incredulous disbelief that this is—is this really, really happening? Oh, wow, this is really actually happening, wow, wow wow wow! "Wait, you—asking to court—oh!"

"Oh," her friend agrees, and then she's laughing with wild abandon, head tipped back and eyes closed in that way that makes it pretty much impossible for Jo to resist flinging her arms around her. She yelps when Charlie scoops her up and twirls her around, though, laughing brightly as she clutches her tightly.

"Well," Jo says, giddy with heady glee, "now might be a nice time."

Charlie blinks, setting her on the floor again but not letting go, and then grins. "Oh! Right, of course. Well, Your Highness, would you do me the honour of allowing me to formally court you? I swear, I will fight for your hand—no, seriously though, if it ever comes up, just show me who I need to punch, and I will deck a man—"

"Charlie!" Jo giggles, exuberance spilling out as laughter. "No punching anyone, that's unnecessary! And yes, of course, I would love nothing more!" She finally pulls away, though she grabs her girlfriend's(!!!) hand almost immediately. "Come on, let's go back downtown. It'll be our first date!"

"Did going out together all the other times not count?" Charlie asks, hanging back near the path back to the palace, and Jo wrinkles her nose.

"Our first official date," she says wryly. "Come on! I want pictures! We're gonna document today! It's important!"

"Okay, okay!" Charlie laughs, but she tugs Jo back instead of following immediately. "Just a second, though. Before we go, I mean. Can I kiss you again? Well—not again, because technically you kissed me, and I want to set this score even, so..."

Jo laughs at her, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You don't need to come up with excuses, you know," she teases, and Charlie grins.

"Wonderful," she says. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Come here, you," and she hooks her free arm around Jo's waist, drawing her in again. Jo squeezes her eyes shut, unable to stop smiling as her stomach fills with flutters of anticipation, and then Charlie is kissing her, much slower than Jo kissed her earlier. It's gentle and Charlie seems to know what she's doing, and it lingers, even after she pulls away. Jo buries her face in her hands for a second to squeal excitedly, and she bursts out laughing.

"You're so cute," she says, keeping her arm wrapped around Jo's waist, and Jo beams at her.

"You are, too!"

They head into town again together, arms around each other, and Jo makes sure to take lots of selfies just to document this, their first date. She might be a bit of a romantic at heart, but it's really nice to think about just... looking back on this, years down the road, maybe when they're old and grey and married and still in love. Is it too soon to think about marriage for real? Definitely. Is Jo going to daydream about her wedding day the way she has all her life anyway? Oh, absolutely.

Humming to herself as Charlie leads her to a bookstore that she says she thinks Jo will like, she licks her lips and immediately has to remind herself to keep walking, instead of freezing up and just standing there, wide-eyed.

(Her lips still taste like strawberries.)

*-*-*

[12:30] Michael Harvelle:

Where are you???

[12:38] Joanna:

Out with Charlie!

I told you yesterday that she and I would be going out in the morning...

[12:39] Michael Harvelle:

I know, I know, sorry. I just got worried, because it's past noon and I still hadn't heard from you.

Anything can happen, we're not in Víteliú...

[12:40] Joanna:

Shush Mikey, I'm fine!!!

We're on our way back to the palace now anyway. Oh! Actually, there's something I want to tell you!

[12:41] Michael Harvelle:

What's that? Are you okay?

[12:42] Joanna:

Hahaha yes, you worry-wart! I'm fine, it's good news, and I want to tell you in person.

Charlie says hi!

[12:43] Michael Harvelle:

Alright, alright. Hello, Lady Charlie. I'll see you soon?

[12:45] Joanna:

Yup! :)

***

*Joanna's P.O.V.*

When they get back to the palace, Charlie smiles apologetically and says that 'it's Friday, which means she owes Prince Campbell some sparring practice,' so Jo bids her farewell for the time being and practically skips up the stairs to the guest wing, stranded somewhere on cloud nine as she heads for Mikey's room. This is really, actually happening, and she couldn't be more excited!

"Mikey?" she calls, knocking twice. "It's me!"

"Come in," her brother replies immediately, and she swings the door open, beaming.

"Guess what?"

Mikey raises an eyebrow curiously. "What? You look happy."

Jo giggled, closing the door behind herself and dropping down onto the couch next to him. "I am happy!" she says. "Lady Bradbury asked if she could court me!" And I said yes surely goes without saying—even if she doesn't really talk about her love life much with Mikey because of his silly overprotective tendencies, he has to know she's head over heels for Charlie.

Mikey blinks. For a moment, Jo thinks he's going to smile and just be happy for her, like she so desperately wants him to, but then the beginnings of a frown start to tug at his eyebrows, and the light in her smile fades.

She sighs.

"Mikey."

"I didn't even say anything," he protests, but there's the stubborn set to his jaw that she knows so well, and yeah, maybe he hasn't said anything yet, but he sure as hell looks like he's going to.

"You look mad," she informs him tartly. "If you do have something to say, just go ahead and get it out."

"I'm not mad," Mikey says carefully, his brows knitting together. "I just... don't think it's the best idea."

Impatience wins out over her careful consideration of her brother's feelings, and she crosses her arms with an incredulous snort. "Mikey, don't give me that! In terms of politics, you know Charlie's a good match for me, especially given Prince Winchester's engagement to Princess Mains. Politically speaking, you and I are both perfectly aware that marrying a close ally of House Winchester is a good way to cement our loyalties with them so that clearly isn't your problem here!"

"I'm just—I worry about you, Jonna," Mikey says honestly, and he looks... he doesn't look mad anymore, and she feels a little guilty for snapping at him. Just a little, though, because he still sounds like he's going to try and argue this with her instead of accepting that her life is hers to control. "I don't want you to get hurt, and..."

"Mikey," she sighs, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I know you care about me, but I need you to realize that locking me away from anything that could ever hurt me is also a way of hurting me. It's my life, Mikey. I want to court Charlie and I wish you would respect that. If I end up getting hurt, fine! It's better than living my entire life on the outside of everything just for the fear that it might end badly. I don't want to live like that."

"I just wish—Jo, you should have told me before making any decisions about it," Mikey says, and he sounds almost hurt, but that's—that's frankly ridiculous. Jo sits back with a huff.

"Look," she says. "Not only is it my life and my choices, but it's also my duty. You want to keep me safe, and I appreciate it, Mikey, I do! I love you, you're my brother and I don't want to argue with you! I just wanted you to be happy about something that made me happy!" Shaking her head, she stands up again, walking away. "I didn't come here to debate the merits and drawbacks of my relationship with Charlie with you, I came here to tell you that I have a girlfriend now. And since you're being stubborn again, I—I'm going to go out with her to have a conversation that's actually nice. Talk to me later."

"Jo!" Mikey exclaims, and he jumps to his feet and reaches for her, but she dodges out of his reach and out the door again, running away until she turns enough corners to feel like Mikey isn't following her and slumps against the wall, eyes wide.

She feels so bad for saying that! Mikey only meant well, he just worries too much about everything and yes it bothers her that he's so dependent on her and wants her to depend on him that much too, but—she was harsh with him and she feels so bad!

"Princess Harvelle?"

The soft, hesitant voice makes her jump, eyes flying wide open. "Oh!"

"I'm so sorry!" Princess Mains exclaims, her hands flying up to wave apologetically. She almost didn't recognize her for a moment, dressed as she is in much more casual attire than normal. "I didn't mean to startle you! Are you alright?"

Princess Mains seems like a sweet and genuine person, from what she's seen of her. Plus, she's a friend of Charlie's, which makes Jo feel like she's at least somewhat trustworthy. Jo offers a shaky smile and manages, "Thank you for the concern, Your Highness. I, um, just had a bit of an argument with my brother, that's all."

"Oh," Princess Mains says, brows knitting together with concern. "I'm sorry to hear that! Is, um... I guess it's not all okay if you're... upset in a hallway—I mean—is there anything I can do? Or would you prefer to be alone? I can leave, really, it's no problem..."

Jo finds herself laughing a breathy little (maybe hysterical) laugh. "No, no, it's okay! Thank you. I, um... actually, I'm not entirely sure where in the palace we are? Could you maybe help me get back to the main courtyard? I think I just need a little walk, to help me calm down, and then I can talk to Mikey later. Really, it's nothing major, you don't need to worry."

Relief flickers in Princess Mains' eyes. "Of course!" she says. "It's right this way, I can walk you there."

"Thank you," Jo says gratefully. When Princess Mains offers her arm, she takes it, and she leads her back down the hall she came from, bizarrely enough. "Gosh... Lawrence Palace has such a confusing layout!"

Princess Mains laughs softly. "It does," she agrees. "I've been living here for months and I still don't think I know my way around that well. Did you know that the west wing and the east wing don't actually line up? If you go up past the second story in either wing, you can't get to the other without either going further up or back down. And the fourth floor on the west wing lines up with the fifth floor of the east wing, but not quite perfectly. There are ramps connecting them."

"Wow," Jo says. "That sounds confusing. Have you ever gotten lost?"

"Once," Princess Mains says, a bashful smile tugging at her lips. "I prefer to say I was exploring, but the truth is I didn't remember which staircase to take to get back to my room. Don't tell Prince Dean—he found me in a library, called me a nerd, and made me come with him to dinner so that he wouldn't have to deal with everyone else alone, supposedly. He doesn't know that he's the only reason I found my way to dinner at all."

Jo laughs. "I won't tell him," she assures. It's a little easier to breathe now that she has something else to focus on, instead of fretting and worrying about Mikey and what just happened and everything, so she tries her best not to think about it too hard for now. Letting herself calm down and then thinking about how to fix it will work a lot better in the long run, anyway; it's not like this is the first time she and Michael have argued about his overbearing tendencies, and trying to resolve it while they're still both in the heat of the moment almost always ends in tears. "...Thank you," she says again, and this time she isn't talking about taking her to the courtyard.

Princess Mains' gentle smile makes her feel that she knows exactly what Joanna means. "It's my pleasure."

"I hope I'm not making you go too far out of your way," she adds, a little guiltily, but Princess Mains shakes her head quickly.

"Not at all!" she assures. "I was going to the sparring grounds in one of the side courtyards, so almost to the same place."

"Sparring grounds?" Jo asks. That would explain why she's wearing what appear to be exercise clothes, instead of the more customary formal regal outfits from Pandora that she's seen on her in the past few days. "That's where Charlie and Prince Campbell are right now, isn't it?"

Princess Mains nods. "Prince Dean is training for the annual tournament—it's held every winter, you know?—and Lady Charlie is his usual opponent, but last weekend I stepped in since she was busy, and he seems to have decided he has an interest in attempting to beat me into the ground now, so... it looks like I'll be training with him after she's done."

"Can we go watch them?" Jo blurts. If she could pick any distraction from thinking about Mikey and his stupid overprotectiveness and her own refusal to back down, watching Charlie spar would probably be somewhere near the top of the list.

Princess Mains blinks as if she didn't expect that, but then she nods again. "I don't see why not."

She does her best to memorize the series of turns and passages and stairwells that they pass by on their way out of the palace, and soon enough they're emerging back into the sunshine. How odd, that less than an hour ago she was enjoying the day to its fullest, out with Charlie, without Mikey and his Mikey-ness weighing on her mind. How nice that was. In fact—

"You know what?" she decides, mostly to herself, but since Princess Mains is right there, she raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I'm not going to let Mikey ruin today for me," she declares. "I'm going to talk to him after the dance tonight, but I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day, and he's not going to stop me."

Princess Mains smiles again. "Good for you," she says warmly. "I hope you do enjoy it."

Sam's fiancée leads her through the courtyard and around the corner of the gardens, and they reach a large clearing. There's no grass here; it's all hard-packed dirt, and there are pavilions around for viewing platforms and several divisions into smaller rings, too. There are several figures practising, some running drills alone and some sparring with partners; looking around, Jo spots a flash of red hair and realizes that Charlie's not too far away, dancing around Prince Campbell.

"There they are!" she exclaims, grabbing Princess Mains' arm in excitement. Swordplay isn't as rooted in tradition in Víteliú—there's no annual tournament with heaps of accolades for the victor, or anything like that—and she rarely gets the chance to see it up close. Knowing one of the combatants personally just makes it even more thrilling, and she has to admit that she actually squeaks when Prince Campbell nearly lands a hit on Charlie's side, missing by a hair's breadth. "Come on, we have to go closer!"

Princess Mains laughs. "Of course, of course. Would you rather go sit down in the shade, or...?"

Jo shrugs, not taking her eyes away from the spectacle. Charlie lunges forward, her practice blade clashing against Prince Campbell's with a ringing crash as he blocks. This is so intense to watch! "I'm fine standing, it's not that hot!"

"Alright!" Princess Mains lets Jo tug her toward the sparring circle, Mikey already almost forgotten. This is definitely a lot more interesting and entertaining, anyway!

She ends up plopping herself down in the grass just outside the sparring ring, and Princess Mains sits next to her calmly. She's watching carefully, Joanna notices during one of the spare moments when she tears her gaze away.

"Hey there, beautiful!" Charlie sings out. "I didn't know—" she breaks off to duck under a sudden slice from Prince Campbell, then grins, "—that you were coming to watch!"

"I swear to god!" Prince Campbell yells. "I do not want to hear more flirting!"

"Don't get angry, Deanie," Charlie says, and Jo lets out a cheer when she taps Prince Campbell's shoulder with the flat of her practice sword. "You get sloppy when you're mad!"

"And don't forget to move your feet!" Princess Mains adds as Prince Campbell scowls, bats her blade aside, and resumes a starting stance.

"Don't give him tips!" Charlie exclaims. "Who's side are you on, anyway?"

"Shut up, Badbury, Snap Pea obviously likes me better," Prince Campbell grunts, launching himself into a quick in-and-out attack that forces Charlie backwards, on the defensive.

"This is so exciting," Jo whispers, hands clasped together under her chin. "Would it be distracting if I cheered for her?"

"Possibly," Princess Mains answers wryly. "Sorry. But watching is still nice, right?"

"Right!" she agrees immediately, content to sit back (well, as much as she can while in so much suspense) and observe. Plus, Charlie looks good.

All in all, it's a very pleasant way to spend her afternoon.

***

*Dean's P.O.V.*

There are a million—no, a billion—actually, at least a trillion things that Dean would rather be doing right now. Just about anything would be better than this, actually, and that includes watching Sam pathetically throw himself at Snap Pea and her oblivious ass for hours on end. God, where is Sam anyway? That asshole. He was supposed to be down here, because he is the person Dean was supposed to be talking to, instead of...

"Hasn't it been quite the exciting week?" Lord Ivanovich is saying to Lady Golovkina, smiling congenitally. "It's been a while since I've seen most members of the Vítelien court, personally. It's nice to have them over."

"Hmm, yes," Lady Golovkina says in her stupid, breathy voice. Dean hates her voice. He knows people can't really help the way they sound, and Lady Golovkina is pretty nice, all things considered, but ugh, her voice is one of the most grating, annoying sounds he's ever heard. "I have my reservations about the negotiations, you know, but all the partying certainly has been fun! Don't you think so, Prince Campbell?"

Also, she kind of tends to talk down to him, like he's just a little kid, which really fucking drives him up the wall.

"I guess," Dean says because he's unfortunately constrained by the rules of politeness and is not allowed to say 'fuck off with that patronizing shit' like he would prefer to. He does not say anything else. He doesn't want to be here. He's fresh from a nice, rejuvenating shower and he was in a good mood, right until he ran into these two...

"You seem taciturn today, Prince Campbell," Lord Ivanovich observes. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," Dean says, frowning. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason, I suppose," Lord Ivanovich says mildly. "I was just concerned. Pardon me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but it seemed to me that you've been a bit tense lately. Is it something to do with your cousin's engagement?"

Dean frowns. Ivanovich is not a friend and he knows it; hell, he's definitely heard Sam whine about his stupid face enough. But he's acting friendly now—Sam and Aunt Mary both warned him about this, too, as if he's stupid enough to blindly listen to any guy who talks to him nicely and to hop into the goddamn metaphorical white van. Honestly.

Anyway, he's probably trying to play up Dean's supposed disdain for Sam and to drive a rift between them. Tough fucking luck for him, though. Whatever Dean might feel about his cousin, it's between the two of them, and he's sure as hell not going to let Ivanovich of all people get between them.

"No," he answers. "I'm fine, thanks."

Ugh. Talking to Sam is definitely better than this, infinitely so, because at least Dean can call him a shitty old man to his face with no repercussions. Here? Not so much.

Besides, Sam isn't actually a shitty old man. As far as Dean's concerned, Ivanovich is. It just fucking sucks that he can only call the wrong one names. Not that he'll admit that to Sam anytime soon.

"Well, I am glad to hear that," Lord Ivanovich says, and he sounds sincere like he actually cares about whether Dean has been stressed lately.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes again. It's so annoying that he has to be such an asshole. Like, in terms of policy and shit. He seems like he'd be a pretty decent person if he would just get his head out of his ass and accept that maybe Ruritania doesn't need to invest fuckall in the military, except that he has both family history and monetary investment in the military, among other things, which means that his head is lodged firmly somewhere in his esophagus—and yes, that is coming from the ass end.

Ugh. Ugh! It just makes him so mad! He's like a douchebag grandpa! He has the potential to be an alright person, but he just has to waste it on being like this. Sometimes, Dean just wants to grab him and the others who agree with him by the shoulders and shake them and yell 'what year do you think it is? What fucking year?' because the days of military expansion are pretty much over, and they need to get over it!

"Yeah," he says instead of any of that, short and concise and eloquent as ever.

"Did you enjoy the banquet yesterday, Prince Campbell?" croons Lady Golovkina, and Dean presses his lips together to keep himself from shuddering at the annoying grating-ness of her voice or yelling at the annoying quality of her words. "That black forest trifle was to die for!"

"It was nice, I guess," Dean agrees flatly, then pointedly adds, "I was more interested in talking to Duchess Ricci about the trade negotiations, though." He's not a goddamn child. He's capable of talking about more than just some fucking chocolate and whipped cream trifle, even if it was really good.

"Oh?" Lady Golovkina asks, her hand fluttering to the brooch at her throat for a moment as if she's actually surprised he knows about the reason for the entire fucking week of dealing with Víteliens. "I'm glad you had a good time, Prince Campbell! Duchess Ricci seems so nice."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Yeah," Dean agrees again. It's getting really hard not to roll his eyes, politeness be damned, and at this point, the thought of receiving another disapproving look from Bobby is pretty much the only thing stopping him from just telling these two to can it and then walking away. "She's pretty interested in expanding the reach of the continental trade corridor through more regions of Ruritania than just the westernmost."

Ha. He won't lie, there's a little bit of vindictive glee at seeing Lady Golovkina's face sour at the mention of an expanded trade corridor. She's well-known for being one of the main isolationists in Queen Winchester's court, which is why she and Lord Ivanovich get along sometimes—both of them are opponents of the alliance with Pandora, and both of them are especially opposed to the mutual defence clause it involves.

"Ah," she simpers, floundering for a moment, and Dean hides a smirk by brushing his hair up with his fingers. "Well, I'm not so sure if I would agree with that, but I'm glad you had a good time."

"But why not?" Lord Ivanovich asks her, cutting in smoothly, and for a moment Dean almost likes him purely because he diverted Lady Golovkina's attention. "Surely you can see the appeal of strengthening bonds with our known allies, Svetlana."

Lady Golovkina sighs. "You know you and I don't agree on that point, my dearest Alexei," she says with an odd little smile. Dean stares back and forth between them incredulously. 'What is this?' Golovkina's one of the isolationists—she's actually kind of anti-military in general, and wants to focus on developing infrastructure, education, and other internal affairs! She and Ivanovich aren't friends. Are they like, hate-flirting, over his head?

Holy fuck does he want to get out of here.

"Well, I can always try to persuade you, again," Lord Ivanovich persists.

Lady Golovkina laughs her breathy, annoying laugh. "Or I can try to persuade you! Come now, Alexei, don't you think it's much more important to focus on Ruritania before we turn our gaze anywhere else? Our country has problems that we need to fix, and getting pointlessly embroiled in foreign affairs is doing the opposite of helping us fix them."

Can he like... just walk away? Could he do that? Words cannot possibly express how much Dean actually does not want to listen to them both spout their own creeds at each other. Idiots, anyone looking at them can already see that they're not going to persuade each other! They're both notorious in court circles for being so entrenched in their own ideas—argh, this is so stupid!

Honestly, he just wants to get out of Lawrence for a while. Castiel invited him over for a few weeks in late summer, because of a big cultural Qazraziin festival thing, and he's pretty sure he's gonna accept that invitation. He just has to officially clear it with the Queen first, but she'll probably say yes—he knows she's pleased that he and Cas managed to become such close friends. It'll help with the development of Ruritania's relationship with Qazrazi after Qazrazi seceded a few generations ago, because Dean's eventually going to lead Ruritania and Cas's eventually going to lead Qazrazi, and the two of them are thick as thieves.

So, yeah.

Qazrazi, yup, that sounds great.

Castiel? Yeah, that sounds better.

Being stuck literally between Lord Ivanovich and Lady Golovkina as they once again debate the merits of each other's preferred party platforms?

Not so much.

Ugh. They're still talking. Even though he zoned out and stared at the wall for a solid minute.

"Well," Lady Golovkina is saying, "at least we see eye-to-eye on some things. After all, we can still agree that the mutual defence clause of the alliance with Pandora is a mistake, don't you think?"

"Wholeheartedly agreed," Lord Ivanovich nods. "Obligating ourselves to aid another country if they should throw themselves into a stupid war is a terrible idea, as far as I can see. Pandora stands to gain far more from that clause than Ruritania does, and frankly, I have to say I'm a little sceptical of the crown's negotiators for allowing that to happen."

He glances at Dean as he says this as if gauging him for any sort of reaction. Well, fuck that noise; Dean isn't gonna give him that kind of satisfaction. He just looks back, face as neutral as he can make it while consciously resisting the urge to scowl.

It's stupid, being the heir's heir. He's part of the royal family, but he's not officially part of the single cohesive unit that Sam and Queen Mary are. He shows his support for them, but he's not obligated to step in to defend the Crown like Sam is, in any given situation, which means that generally, Dean prefers to let people stay confused. Let them think he's a total blank slate or a wild card. Fuck them, as if he would ever turn on his family.

Still, letting Ivanovich and his stupid face think that Dean doesn't have a problem hearing him badmouth the representatives of the Queen can't hurt.

Seriously, though.

Where the hell is Sam? He was supposed to rescue Dean from this stupid, stupid conversation a while ago. He was technically supposed to meet Dean here so he wouldn't have had to wait, meaning that he never would've been stuck in this conversation to start with!

Fucking Sam. He's probably being useless and flirting pathetically with Snap Pea. Somewhere. Honestly, Dean would take a rescue from Snap Pea at this point.

"Oh, certainly," Lady Golovkina agrees. "I'm not sure why she let Prince Winchester agree to such a thing, to be completely honest with you. It just seems like a bad plan all around! We all know Koguryŏ and Pandora have been at odds lately. We have no reason to get into a war with Koguryŏ! I still maintain that our focus needs to be elsewhere entirely. Infrastructure, especially in the eastern sector of the country, could use a lot of work, and a war would be exactly the opposite of what—"

"Deanie!"

Oh, thank god.

Sam strolls into view, sauntering his leisurely way down the stairs far too casually to be anything but quietly furious. Dean disguises a sigh of relief with a roll of his eyes.

"You're late," he informs Sam as he approaches, draping his arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean elbows him lightly—his touch is cold.

"I'm terribly sorry I kept you waiting," he says lightly. "I hope I'm not taking you from anything too important here." He lifts his eyes from Dean to both of the nobles in turn, daring them to defy him, which of course they don't.

"Oh, no, we were just discussing some current affairs and listening to each others' thoughts on them," Lady Golovkina assures, smiling thinly. "You two are going out? I hope you have fun!"

"Yes," Lord Ivanovich agrees. His voice is flatter now that Sam is here—Dean knows full well that the two of them really don't get along. It's kind of funny. "Do enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you!" Sam beams. "I'm sure we will. Come along now, little cousin."

They're not too far away, just a few corners turned, before Sam spins in place and clamps both hands on Dean's shoulders, his eyes flashing intensely.

"What did they want from you?" he asks. "I swear if that slimy, smug excuse for a sad, little man tried to coerce you into anything..."

Dean brushes him off, scoffing. "Don't be stupid, old man," he says dismissively. "As if he could. They were literally just talking politics and hate-flirting with each other or something. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen, and that includes you throwing yourself at Snap Pea, so like, that's fucking saying something, but I'm fine."

Sam lets out a sigh of relief, straightening again. "Be careful, Deanie," he says, and once again, Dean rolls his eyes. As if he needs that warning. What is he, an idiot? "I don't trust either of them. They probably want to try and get you to work with them. Watch out."

"I know. I'm not stupid, Sammy." He turns and starts to walk away, shaking his head. "Are we going to actually go out for coffee, or not?"

Sam hurries to his side, falling into step easily, and smiles sunnily. "Of course we are!" he assures. "It's a nice day to get away from court."

Dean snorts. "Aren't all days?"

"True!" Sam says and laughs, and to his delight, Dean feels like the two of them might have something approximating closeness again.