Buying Rebel

2.

There was an intruder in his bedroom holding sweet rolls. Castiel was sure he had never met the man before and in his semi conscious state he had him up against the wall with a hand to his throat before the rolls had all fallen to the ground. Castiel blinked slowly and growled.

"Thought you weren't that kind of master," said the subtly accented voice, clear green eyes staring down at Castiel's open robe, glossy thick eyelashes fluttering over freckled cheekbones.

Castiel sucked in a quick breath, recognising the voice immediately. "Dean?"

The stranger looked up and smiled and Castiel's hand spasmed briefly before he let go and took three large steps backwards, clasping his hands behind his back, holding on to his own elbows as if trying to keep himself in check.

Dean was still smiling, he looked much younger with all that pale facial skin on display. He had shaved and washed and trimmed his matted hair. What remained was glossy and auburn and thick and that was just the hair. Castiel was sure he had never met a more beautiful looking man. That mouth, previously hidden by Dean's beard, was utterly sinful. Not that Castiel was a man who usually noticed those sorts of things, but as he liked to draw, the symmetry of Dean's face was undeniable. Castiel was a man who recognised beauty in nature but to find it in other humans was a rare thing for him. Dean was a revelation, his blotchy dirty skin was milky beneath all the filth. He was wearing hunter's clothes, soft fawn coloured leggings and an emerald shirt that was a little small on him.

"I baked," Dean leant down to pick up the sweet rolls and Castiel quickly lifted his gaze and affixed it to the wall. He couldn't quite work out why Dean in his too tight breeches made his face feel hot. "But I suppose they'll have to go to the hens now."

"I will eat them," Castiel grabbed for the plate, Dean's knuckles slipped beneath Castiel's grasping fingers. The rolls went clattering to the ground again. One flying over Castiel's shoulder to land on the foot of his bed.

Dean said nothing, dropping to one knee with a sigh.

Castiel turned to the bed and fumbled awkwardly for the roll, stuffing it into his mouth to stave off the saliva suddenly flowing over his palate. It was honey sweet and buttery. This time he took the plate more carefully, sitting down amidst his bedding to quickly devour them all. For a man used to field rations and his own abominable cooking, Dean's rolls were almost too divine in taste and appearance for Castiel's poor brain to process. Castiel ate with gusto, eyeing Dean's expressive face in between huge bites.

"If I pay you, would you make these to sell to me?" Castiel licked his fingertips clean of the last traces of honey.

"Bit strange, paying your own slave to do some cooking?"

"You're not my slave, I freed you yesterday," Castiel said swallowing the last mouthful with no small amount of regret that the delicious experience was over. "The moment you came onto this land, given to all retired soldiers of my garrison, you were freed. Along with your brother Sam. There is no bondage permitted here. The farmers you saw yesterday are all former warriors and their kin. They work the land and earn a decent living doing so. You and Sam are here as guests, you may go now or at another time of your own choosing."

"I thought you needed a cook," Dean said after a pause. "If I prepare meals and otherwise make myself useful will you allow Sam and I to stay until we have saved enough provisions to make the journey home?"

"You and Sam can stay without labouring," Castiel said. "Just share in the household chores."

"I would like to be paid for my time," Dean was insistent. "We'll need to make a sea voyage if we are not willing to spend years toiling on Roman soil. You might consider us free, here on your land, once we hit the open road, I doubt others will think the same. Sam and I will need money to bribe our way to the ports and find a willing vessel to take us offshore."