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“Michael?” Castiel pressed his hand against the conference room door, hesitating briefly as the sound of voices within faltered at the disturbance. Poking his head through the gap revealed a stranger sitting near the top of the oval-shaped table. The unfamiliar man was studying him with keen, dark eyes, and Castiel knew his brother would also be watching the door. There was no turning back now. Swallowing back his nerves, Castiel stepped inside, squaring his shoulders so that Michael wouldn't see right through him. He had no intention of leaving without a “yes.” At the end of the table, silhouetted against the vast conference room window, Michael stood with his arms folded, visibly impatient. It didn't seem like ideal circumstances for Castiel to be getting his own way. “Something you want, Castiel?” Michael’s tone carried a distinct edge, as though to imply Castiel should leave at once. If anything, Castiel was emboldened by the implicit threat. He glances at the stranger. “Can I speak to you about something? I haven’t been able to get you on the phone.” “So long as you don’t waste any more of our time,” Michael hissed. Castiel took it as implicit permission. Whoever this guy was, Michael would probably kick him out if it was important, right? “Texas. The expansion plans we talked about. The hives are going to start splitting soon, and I want to invest in some more brood boxes and situate new apiaries.” Michael eyed him suspiciously, but no immediate kicking out happened. “New hosts?” “Yes, ideally. We can situate more hives on existing land, but I’d prefer to find new people willing to host our hives. We could have switched to top bar hives instead, but you shut that down…” Castiel had been arguing for top bar hives for a while now. It was more natural for the bees to build their hives downwards, suspended from the frames. The hives were less cramped and therefore healthier, and most of all more practical for the beekeepers. Michael only saw the decrease in productivity, as well as the investment of changing from the existing Langstroth hives, a popular beehive style where the boxes of frames were stacked on top of each other, and the bees expanded upward in cramped conditions. Michael didn’t care that it would mean less hives lost to the varroa mite, which was exterminating bee colonies across the world. It wasn’t important to him that his bees were healthy and happy, because if they got sick and yields went down, he blamed the beekeeper, not the practice. If Michael wasn’t going to allow Cas to invest in top bar hives, then the only way to increase production - the only thing Michael cared about - was to find more hosts; people with plots of land that they were willing to lend over to honey cultivation. Michael’s answer was predictable, just as Castiel had expected. “Increased production, Castiel, that’s what we need right now. What you’re suggesting would mean stagnation. I was clear before.” “I know. But more colonies can . They will, if you’ll give me a chance.” The stranger interrupted. His voice was honeyed and smoothly articulate. “Expansion in Texas? Now would be the perfect time.” The praise seemed to catch Michael’s attention, and Castiel finally understood how fortunate his timing had been. Michael was eager to impress their guest, and he might just be in the mood to give Castiel anything he wanted. Immediately, Castiel knew how to achieve his goals. His eyes flicked toward the stranger. His dark gaze was intoxicating, and Castiel found himself drawn in, breathless as the stranger spoke again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Castiel. Cain Adams.” Cain Adams. Of course. Castiel had seen him before, albeit from somewhat further away. Cain was an apiarist who specialized in bee-friendly practices. He’d given a number of talks about environmentally sound beekeeping, though Castiel had never had a chance to listen to one. “I’ve seen your hives.” Castiel smiled, dashing forward to shake Cain’s offered hand. “You always find the best spots for your apiaries.” “I have happy bees,” Cain agreed, with a smile. “And wonderful honey.” Castiel beamed as Cain fixed him with warm interest. It had been a while since anyone had acknowledged anything Castiel had to say as valuable insight. Well… anyone from amongst his peers. Castiel cared fondly for bees and honey, which was, unfortunately, not a passion his elder brothers shared. The opportunity to actually speak to another person who cared immensely about beekeeping wasn’t lost on Castiel. Michael, however, was having none of it. Making a rough sound in the back of his throat, he interrupted: “New brood boxes. Fine. How many?” Castiel had to figure that Michael would at least halve whatever number Castiel chose, so he doubled it. “Twelve hundred.” Something malicious tugged the corner of Michael’s mouth upwards. “Done.” Shit. Castiel wouldn't let Michael see him falter, and kept his chin up, his smile pressed into place as though it had been steamed on. “Anything else?” Michael asked coolly. “No,” Castiel answered. If anything, he was thinking of the sheer amount of work ahead of him and his team. Twelve hundred hives? Even if they could split that many hives, where would they put them all? Even if they scoured all of Texas, would they find enough new landholders willing to host beehives? No, of course they could, but it would be exhausting. It put Castiel’s people under a lot more pressure than they’d prepared for. Cain was studying him intently, and Castiel refused to back down. Even if he knew already that failure was inevitable, he wouldn’t have let it show. Letting Michael win on this just wasn’t an option; if Castiel admitted to his concerns, his numbers would forever be called into question. At least this way he could try, and perhaps somehow talk his way out of it when he failed. Maybe he could even petition to hire Balthazar back, if he played his cards right. Sure, and maybe pigs would fly. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Adams,” Castiel said, just as warmly as he could. “I hope to be able to catch one of your talks someday soon.” “If all goes well with your brother, that shouldn’t be necessary,” Cain answered, cryptically. Michael’s hand on Castiel's shoulder ended the conversation abruptly, turning him toward the door before Castiel could even consider the phrasing of the question he wanted to ask Cain. Before he knew it, Castiel was standing on the other side of the closed conference room door, frowning at his own reflection in the plastic water cooler, and wondering just what on earth his brother was doing having a business chat alone with another honey producer. Something was going on. Something really big. It was such a shame that with twelve hundred brood boxes to populate, Castiel wouldn’t have time to investigate. He was going to be too busy as it was to trouble himself over Michael’s scheming. Far too busy.   Hannah was still reeling. “I still can’t believe you got him to go for it.” “I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Castiel mourned. “Raphael is sure to intervene, once he finds out.” “Better him than Lucifer.” “So long as all of them keep their hands off my bees.” Hannah laughed down the phone at him. “As though Michael would ever go near a hive. Can you imagine him sweating away under a hood?” That image alone should have had Castiel cracking up too, but he was exhausted. Two days on the road had reminded him how bleak the landscape was out here, and where there was flourishing growth, he found producers were using insecticides and fertilisers carelessly, ignorant of the environmental cost. It was heartbreaking, and it was to their own detriment. No insects meant no bees, and no bees meant no prollination. But what loss! The last farm he’d visited had been deathly quiet, and the owners didn’t even seem to be aware that something was missing. “Castiel? Are you still there?” Scrubbing his hand against his eyes, Castiel found himself nodding, even though Hannah couldn't see him over the car’s Bluetooth. “I’m here.” Hannah must have heard something in his voice because she said “Are you okay?” “I’m okay,” Castiel sighed. “You know how I feel about meeting these people--what they're doing…” “If we’re going to place more than a thousand colonies, we’re going to need at least fifty new apiaries. I know you hate it, but even with you, Benjamin and Balthazar down there, we’ll be lucky to get near that number.” Hannah was right, of course, but Castiel didn't have to like it. “I will try my best.” “Just this time, let’s not have a repeat of Lederman.” Castiel grimaced. “It’ll be fine, Hannah. Please, there's nothing to worry about.” “They're only human.” “Which is precisely where my problems lie.” Hannah was quiet for a moment. Castiel could imagine her uncertain frown. She knew he was frustrated, and while she was perfectly good at making him feel better, there was no greater solution to his general ennui. “I’ll get Balthazar to call you later,” Hannah finally said. “He always knows just what to say to take your mind off it.” Castiel made a face, and was grateful that Hannah couldn't see him. “Perhaps I will find a way to take my own mind off it in the meantime,” he suggested. “Texas is having a resurgence of craft beers, it would be a shame to miss out on the experience.” “Castiel…” Hannah sounded admonishing. “Oh, don't give me that. You love craft beer.” Castiel didn't wait for Hannah to reply, he pushed on. “I’ll speak to Balthazar when he calls. I have one more appointment this afternoon that I still have to get to.” “Of course.” “I appreciate the call, Hannah. The road was feeling very lonely.” “It does,” she agreed, softly. “Take care of yourself, Castiel. I’ll call you tomorrow.” The connection clicked off, and Castiel checked his mirrors before pulling back onto the road. No doubt his third appointment of the day would prove to be just as depressing as the previous two. Things seemed to be looking up when Castiel rolled up the long gravel road to the commercial farm. He passed an enormous field of wildflowers, innumerous millions of buttercups and clover littering the verdant grass. Crawling up past a small copse, his Lincoln startled a boar sow and her piglets, and the little family skittered off along the fence line squealing. But as Castiel’s Lincoln climbed stubbornly up the next two kilometres of gravel road, the suspension so rigid that every bump was teeth rattling, the environment changed. The wild countryside gave way to miles of perfectly manicured vineyards, and Castiel felt his heart sink. The road twisted and climbed, but Cas could see the farmhouse now, perched on the most dominating of the hills. Castiel slowed his Lincoln to a crawl, considering his GPS with an distrustful eye, as though it were the traitor here. The little farmhouse stood mocking him, and Castiel resigned himself to the certain disappointment that was to come. Two hours later, feeling considerably more broken and bitterly disappointed, Castiel turned his Lincoln back down the long track to the main road. Halfway, he clicked his headlamps on and the glare caught six pairs of piggy eyes blinking back at him. Smiling sadly, he watched the little family once more trot across the road in front of his car, heading back to their copse. Feeling defeated, Castiel retreated back to his motel, then to the truckstop bar opposite. They weren't particularly congenial when he asked about local beers - the profit was probably much better off the tap - but not three minutes later, Castiel had several bottles of beer in front of him, all three opened to try them, and was talking to a sublimely uninterested but very kind woman named Jo about their contents. He commented warmly on the flavors of the beer as he tried them, and one at last piqued his interest. It was sugary and floral, with a certain warm, creamy depth to the texture of the hops that Castiel couldn't help but heap praise on to his increasingly bored companion. “It’s too bad,” she said, when he paused to marvel on another mouthful. “Since John Winchester packed off with his second family, those boys have been running that place all on their own.” “It’s near here?” Castiel asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. A brewery was a brewery. “Sure is. Next county over. They own all their own hops, too. None of this buying them in. Bottle the stuff down on the farm. Texas hops and Texas beer. Dean brings them in himself once a year.” Castiel’s head jerked up. Texas hops? “How’s that even possible? Hops don’t grow in Texas.” “They didn’t grow in Texas,” the bartender answered. “But that Winchester boy must’ve had a miracle up his sleeve, because he made it work. Place is better known for its cider, but he’s had offers, you know? Big business wants to know his secrets.” Castiel studied the beer bottle label intently, working his bottom lip with his teeth. The Family Business beer company. It sounded perfect. It tasted perfect. Cider meant apple blossoms, and honey bees grown on hops thrived, Cas knew, somehow more resistant to the mites that wiped out a portion of the company’s hives every year. “Would Mr. Winchester be troubled by an uninvited visitor, do you think?” Castiel asked, lifting his eyes from the label to peer at Jo. “Some people round here might not be too welcome to a stranger, even one that looks as soft as you,” Jo answered, thoughtfully. “What is it you do that you want to poke around down there?” “I keep honey bees,” Cas explained. “I’m in Texas looking for new sites for hives. Farmland, mostly. Do you think he’d be interested?” Jo tapped her finger against finger against her bottom lip, then shrugged. “Dunno. But you might as well ask him, right? I’ll vouch for you, give him a call before I turn in. Tomorrow?” Castiel nodded gratefully, ordered three more bottles of Dean’s beer to tuck away in his messenger bag, and then gave Jo a grateful tip, leaving twice as much money on the bar as he’d spent. It would be worth missing any one of the appointments he’d made if the Winchester farm panned out.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Once more, Castiel found himself driving down a private gravel road, only this time the verges were overgrown and the irrigation ditches were thick with purple flowered nettles and the occasional burst of golden marsh buttercups. Between the highway and the farm Castiel had to stop twice, once for a herd of cattle being driven between pastures, and then a second time for a pair of young bucks that had taken to the very middle of the road for their mock battle. Castiel found himself spectating despite himself, and drove on five minutes later when the two of them had quite thoroughly worn themselves out. Castiel progressed quietly along the road, past an enormous private lake with a watchful heron standing sentinel at the bank, then turned onto a gentle decline which opened up immediately to thousands of fruit trees--trees in every direction. It was beautiful, and surely the brothers must own the entire valley, because beyond the immense orchards, bathed in sunshine, Cas could see rows and rows of what looked like power lines all running parallel to each other. The earth underneath was a rich red brown, ready for planting. It was like the Garden of Eden, a pure kind of paradise, and Castiel had to stop for a moment just to take it all in. With his Lincoln’s engine turned off, Castiel could hear nature. It hummed . Castiel breathed in the scent of that nature, transfixed by it. The rarity of this space… it seemed so unreal, as though he’d died and gone to beekeeper heaven. A river even ran through the centre of the valley, bisecting a stone farmyard which almost certainly must have some kind of water wheel for generating electricity. Castiel restarted his Lincoln regretfully, then made the gentle drive down into the valley toward the sprawling stone yard crouched at the foot of the hill. At the very bottom, Castiel drove across a narrow bridge, his Lincoln almost scraping the sides, then pulled immediately up beside the main house, slotting his car in next to a hybrid SUV which looked obscenely out of place. Against the backdrop of the water mill’s rustic charm, it was modern and plasticky. As Castiel disembarked, the worn green front door opened, and a giant emerged from inside, pursued by a second man. “Come on, Sammy,” the second man said. “Let's just talk about this.” “There's nothing to talk about, Dean. You and Dad and this place… I swear.” Castiel stood stunned and nervous, wondering just what he’d blundered into. He was spotted quickly enough, and both men seemed to stop and stare at him as though he’d simply appeared out of mid air. It was disconcerting. Castiel cleared his throat. “Dean Winchester, I presume?” Sam took the opportunity to get into the SUV, slamming the door shut behind him. While Dean looked after him, Sam made a two point turn in the courtyard, before winding down the window and calling out: “If he’s here to buy the place, then you tell him ‘Yes’.” Then, completing his manoeuvre, he headed back up the road that Castiel had just descended. Only when the dust from his departure had settled did Castiel consider it safe to try to talk again. “I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time, it wasn’t my intention. And uh… I’m not here to buy the place, I’m afraid.” To Castiel’s surprise, Dean laughed. “That was nothing. You should see us when we really have it in for each other.” “Ah…” Castiel reflected. “Yes, I think I understand.” “You’re the guy Jo called me about, right? You have brothers?” “Four,” Castiel nodded. “And I am the youngest.” Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder, warmly. “Then you get it,” he declared. “Looks way worse than it is. Sam’s just mad I want to give this place a real chance, rather than sell it and move to California with him and his fiancée. Jess is a doll and I love spending time with her, but I can think of better things to do with myself than play perpetual third wheel to my little brother, you know?” Castiel could certainly see his point, but being somewhat on a high still thanks to his first glimpse of the valley, he couldn't help but speak out about it. “If I lived here I don’t think I could ever be convinced to leave, nevermind sell it.” “Really? You don’t think it's too quiet?” “Is that your brother’s problem with it?” Dean pressed his lips together, then tilted his head back toward the house. For a moment he was gorgeous as a Greek statue, chiselled, with his golden brown hair catching flecks of sunlight. “Why don't you come inside, tell me what you came down here for?” Castiel smiled, and followed Dean inside. He didn’t want to pry, but he could make assumptions about what it was like to grow up here, and Sam Winchester with his hybrid SUV didn’t seem to fit. Dean, though, looked as lived in as the old house. He had calloused hands and sunbeaten skin, and deep creases around his eyes from laughter. Following Dean over the threshold, Castiel halted just inside the doorway, as though incapable of going any further without being invited. “I’m Castiel Shurley, from uh… Shurley Honey. I’m an apiarist.” Dean turned and stared at him through long, dark eyelashes. His green eyes sparkled teasingly, and he broke out a pointy smile. “You keep apes?” “Bees. I keep honeybees. Well, my family's company does.” “So you’re here… for what?” Dean raised an eyebrow at him, then turned and left him in the cool foyer, disappearing through a sunny doorway into what was clearly the farmhouse’s kitchen. The house seemed full of unnecessary extra space, but maybe that was because it was a family home, and Dean didn’t take up all that much room. He spoke loud enough that his voice would carry over the distance and the occasional clatter of ceramic. “To sell honey?” Dean continued, “I guess I can take a pot.” “Oh, I… Actually that’s not why I’m here.” “So you don’t sell honey?” Castiel faltered, talking to the open doorway. “I… yes, but…” His eyes dragged away. This wasn't going quite as well as he’d hoped, but he found himself looking around the room anyway. There were photographs on all the walls, photos of a blonde woman with a small child and a baby, but none where she was older, photos of her with a dark haired man with warm eyes, who continued to age as his sons grew, photos of Sam and Dean together. There were others as well, two different redhead women, a balding man who seemed to always appear with a rifle, and an Asian-American family at their son’s graduation, Sam in the background squeezing the kid’s shoulder and beaming proudly. Their mother must have died young, Castiel realized, worrying his lip between his teeth. And yet there was an immense feeling of family and found family here; a story behind every image, and all of them displayed with pride. There was nothing hidden here. “So why are you here? Jo didn’t say.” Dean was standing in the doorway once more, looking at him with eyes just as warm as his father’s. He held a tray propped against his hip, and on it were a loaf of bread, teacups and a big yellow teapot. “I…” Castiel was lost for words, so instead he said nothing as Dean made his way across the room, and waved for Castiel to follow him back outside. “I tried your beer,” Castiel said, following in confusion as Dean led him to his Lincoln. They stopped there, though Castiel was none the wiser what for. “It was very good.” Dean stared at him expectantly, until, at last, Castiel broke. “What is it?” “Honey. To go with the bread? It’s lunchtime for me, so I’m guessing maybe it’s lunch for you too.” As though to make a point, Castiel’s stomach gave a determined growl. Three minutes later, they were sitting at a beaten up plastic picnic table beside the stream, sharing bread and honey while they watched the afternoon sun dance on the water. Castiel told Dean how hard it was to find places for bees to thrive, that modern farming practices were harmful to them, and then spent at least five minutes between mouthfuls cooing about the sound of nature in Dean's little oasis. Throughout, Dean watched him intently. Castiel could feel his attention, even see Dean looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and as he continued to speak, Dean continued to watch him, as though transfixed. By the time they were done talking about the sound of insect life, Castiel was blushing fiercely, and tripping over his own words. That was when a curious honeybee landed on his sleeve. Self consciousness forgotten, Castiel at once spoke to the bee, as he would when he was working on a colony, automatically reaching out to gently close the honey jar with his other hand. “Hello there, Mr. Bee. I see you’re just as fond of this place as I am, hm?” The bee crawled slowly down his sleeve, then took off, flew about an inch, and landed again. When Castiel looked up, Dean as staring at him like he was some sort of Disney princess. “Really? You’re like the bee whisperer.” Castiel smiled. “When you work a lot with bees the pollen sort of permeates everything. I must smell very attractive.” Dean looked like he wanted to say something else, but he settled on: “So you’re saying he thinks you're a flower?” “Something like that,” Castiel replied. “Or perhaps another bee.” The bee took another thirty seconds to decide that Castiel was, in fact, not a bee at all, and then it simply took off and went on its way. Dean was grinning. “You want to take a look around? I’ve got to feed Ruby, but that shouldn't take long.” Castiel didn’t even check his watch. Sure, he could worry about not making his other appointments, but this was paradise after all, and Dean seemed so friendly and eager to accommodate - not to mention lonely - that Castiel would have missed out on another fortnight of appointments rather than miss a single afternoon of this. Once they’d packed everything back onto the tray, Dean said “So why did you close the honey pot?” Castiel couldn’t recall having done that, but then he nodded and smiled. “A beehive has a very fragile ecology unique to itself, never mind other colonies. Different colonies have different resistance to disease, so introducing a foreign honey to another beehive is dangerous. It spreads disease, and disease kills honeybees.” “So they’re like kids.” “Pardon?” “Kids are breeding grounds for disease too. Only I guess in that example the honey is snot.” Castiel grimaced, and Dean burst out laughing, then wheezed “I’m not saying honey is like snot, I’m just saying…” But Castiel found himself smiling wider, almost laughing too. They head back into the house with a feeling of shared camaraderie. Once things were cleared away, Dean led him back outside, then through a narrow passage that led from the main courtyard to another, cutting beneath the second floor of the house itself. Beyond that were a line of stables and an enormous barn, the first of several that Castiel had seen from the top of the hill. Dean head for the barn, and Castiel followed, hanging back as they stepped into the cool and shady darkness. A sandy colored jersey cow chewed hay in the second stall, keeping a watchful eye on them. Dean waved a hand at her. “That’s Rebecca. She’s not as mean as she looks, she’s just in a bad mood because the vet came by to inseminate her this morning.” Castiel blinked at the cow, and she flicked her ears at him. What an indignity! No wonder she looked so miserable. A whiffing noise drew Castiel's attention to the first stall, however, while Dean was digging around for kibble, and a moment later a big blue and white sheepdog was jumping nimbly over the barrier toward the sound of her bowl being filled, leaving behind half a dozen stunned and protesting puppies in the hay. While Dean petted the dog, Castiel stared in at them. Two of the pups were a sort of reddish brown color, two were pinkish and mottled, and one was mottled blue like its mother. The final pup was black and tan, pawing blindly at her siblings as she quested for the missing source of warmth and milk, growl-barking into midair. “She’s so growly,” Castiel laughed. “Yeah. She’s the biggest and she knows it. Shoves the others out of the way when she’s hungry.” Dean paused. “Hey, if you wash your hands in the basin there, I’ll pass her up to you.” Dean made his way over while Ruby scarfed kibble, all the while eyeing them with muted suspicion, and bent into the stall to scoop up the growly pup. When his hands were clean Dean carefully handed the puppy up to him. Holding the fragile baby carefully in both hands, Cas raised her up to get a better look. Her little face was all scrunched up, and her mouth was a pink V, all the better to hunt for mother’s milk. The puppy's fur was the softest thing that Castiel had ever felt, and he found himself stroking soothingly until the pup’s little barks quieted and Ruby was no longer eyeing him doubtfully. She must trust her owner very much to put the safety of her pups in Dean’s hands like that. “They’re beautiful, Dean.” When he raised his eyes he found that Dean was once more looking at him intently. This time his smile was even softer, and Castiel reached out to hand the puppy back, heat crawling up the back of his neck when Dean wrapped his own hands almost entirely around Castiel's during the transfer. Fine, so maybe he was sort of attracted to the guy. “I thought we could check out the orchards by horseback,” Dean said. “That is if it’s okay with you? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Castiel frowned. “I could just… I don’t mind walking. It’s really no trouble.” “You don’t ride?” “No, I just never have. They're somewhat… aren’t they quite big? Horses?” “They’re not that big. I mean I guess they are, but it’s honestly nothing to worry about. We can pony up, that way all you have to do is sit there and hold on.” Castiel, eager to impress Dean for some inexplicable reason, nodded glumly. “I’ll try,” he said. “Great!” Beamed Dean. “You’ll love it, I promise. Stay here a minute, okay?” “Okay,” Castiel agreed. He glanced at Ruby, who was watching keenly with one dark eye as Dean left, and puzzled over the whole scenario. He’d come here more or less on a whim, but now here he was babysitting puppies for a man he barely knew--an intoxicating man, sure, but still. After April, Castiel had sworn off relationships. It had ended incredibly badly, and he’d avoided companionship ever since. She'd wanted a different kind of relationship to Castiel, or to be more specific she’d wanted a different sort of sex life. Actually, it was how she’d tried to push him into it that had put his back up most of all. But Dean… While it seemed obvious that Dean gave a warm welcome to everyone who visited the farm, it felt special to Castiel. Between the bread and honey by the river and the puppies, there was just something magical about the whole afternoon. Would it be so bad to move on? Would it be so awful with someone like Dean? No, Castiel was losing his mind. They’d only just met. They barely knew anything about each other. On the other hand, though, where would Castiel meet anyone for more than a few hours a month? The people he knew most of all were back home in Roswell, New Mexico; his family, of course, Naomi, the head of operations, Bart, head of PR, Zachariah, Gadreel, Balthazar, Benjamin and Hannah. Balthazar, only last night, had been complaining that Castiel needed to get laid. It was, in fact, his very favorite piece of advice. If he knew that Castiel was thinking even half as favorably about the green eyed hottie that owned this place as he was, Castiel would never hear the end of it. Never mind that Castiel was willing to get up on top of a horse--an animal Balthazar knew full well Castiel thought to be a crazy death machine--if he knew that then he would be understandably gleeful. Hannah would be more cautious, but then she had carried a torch for Castiel for years. He had even considered returning her affection for a while, but she was like a sister to him, and they’d both come to terms with their mutual incompatibility. Ruby snuffled at Castiel’s hand, and he smiled and patted her head. She really was a beautiful dog, though Castiel had no idea what kind she was. Maybe he ought to ask Dean. Castiel stood, making sure to take it slowly so as not to startle the dog. Making his way to the door, he poked his head out, blinking into the bright sunshine at Dean, who had tied two horses to the crossbeam running alongside the barn. The horses barely stirred, dozing in the scant shade while Dean ran a curry comb briskly over them. He had his back to Castiel, so for a few moments he was able to simply admire the view. And what a view! Inevitably, really, Dean turned and caught him staring, but Castiel didn’t falter, and eventually Dean was blushing, ducking his head away, and turning to pat his horse on the nose self consciously. Castiel made his way over. He wasn’t so afraid that he wouldn't pat a horse on the nose, but still, the idea of getting up in the saddle was something of a nightmare. “This is Max,” Dean said, patting his dun piebald on the neck, “and the little lady over there is Ali. She’ll take good care of you.” Castiel made his way over to the second horse. It made more sense to make friends with the beast he’d have to ride himself, but she didn’t look that scary all things considered. She was a sort of shiny off-white with gold colored eyes, and she lifted her head a few inches when Castiel stepped up beside her, studying him tentatively. “Hi Ali,” Castiel said, addressing the horse. “You're gonna treat me nicely, right? No nasty surprises?” “Haven't you ever ridden before?” Dean asked. “Once,” Castiel answered. “Only once.” “Didn't go so well?” “You could say that.” Castiel sighed. “My brother, Lucy--he thought it would be amusing to slap my horse on the rear with a stick. It took me almost two entire minutes to fall off, but it felt much longer.” “Two minutes for a newbie on a bolting horse?” Dean laughed. “Sounds like you got the fundamentals right to me. Most of the work is learning to stay on.” “If you say so,” Castiel answered, though Dean's compliment warmed him through anyway. “It’s... I suppose it was kind of exhilarating.” Dean dropped a beaten up stock saddle on Ali’s back, startling Cas from his reverie. “Think you can stay on this time?” “Will she… what did you call it? Bolt?” “Nah,” Dean grinned, then ducked down to pull the girth strap up, pulling it through it’s D-ring, then pulling it around into a knot. For a moment he pulled so hard on the strap of leather that Ali staggered briefly toward him. “She likes to breathe in when I’m doing up the girth,” Dean explained. “Before we head out I’ll tighten it again and you'll see.” Dean circled back to Max and lifted a second tan saddle onto his back. As he did up the girth, Dean said. “You know, Sam is sort of right. It’s quiet here. You don't meet new people except for harvest time, and even then it’s all seasonal work. People don't hang around for long, but me and Sam… we were here all the time. We grew up with all this.” Dean shuffled back over and showed Castiel the girth. Surprisingly, he was able to slip his entire hand between the horse’s side and the leather strap. “See what I mean?” While Cas nodded, Dean tightened the girth, and then he circled to the other side of the horse and took hold of the horn of the saddle. “Up you get,” Dean ordered. Warily, and somewhat uncoordinated, Cas pulled himself up into the saddle. Dean pushed reins into his hands, then stepped back to look him over. “You're missing something.” While Castiel frowned, Dean disappeared back into the barn. A moment later he returned wearing a black Stetson, and handed a second hat - this one tan - up to Castiel. “I hope it fits. It’s Sammy’s, which means it had to be big enough to fit all his hair.” “It’s fine,” Castiel replied, righting the slightly too large hat on top of his head. “Thank you. But…wouldn't a crash hat be better?” Dean smiled. “You wanna bring one next time, that’s up to you.” “Next time?” Castiel asked, hopefully. It sounded too good to be true. Two minutes later, they were making their way out of the yard. Dean had explained that they were ponying up, and that seemed to be the process of Dean leading the way on Max, and Ali following at a steady plod behind him, her head low and seemingly completely at ease. It felt wonderfully safe. The two horses clattered underneath the house, then crossed the courtyard where Castiel’s car was parked. They rode over the narrow bridge across the stream, then turned down a winding footpath that cut into the orchard. Ancient fruit trees lined the path, gnarled boughs passing just overhead with a fine smattering of late blossoms and sparse new leaves. Castiel hummed happily. Bees and butterflies were flitting back and forth, birds were singing in the trees, and up above them, hundreds of feet over the orchard, a bald eagle was flying in ever wider, ever higher circles. “Do you see a lot of wildlife here?” he asked. “Sure, all sorts. There’s like uh… deer and rabbits and stuff.” Castiel almost laughed. “And stuff?” “Pretty much,” Dean answered, smiling. “I don’t know. What sort of animals are you thinking of?” Castiel cocked his head. “Foxes, pheasant, turkeys? Um… other sorts of predators, I suppose. There are still mountain lions in this area, yes?” “Sure. There’s a big cougar that lives up on the ridge. She doesn’t come down here often, though.” Castiel frowned, staring at the back of Dean’s head for a few moments, then lifting his gaze toward the ridge as though expecting to see her silhouetted against it. “Sometimes cougar will raid beehives, but we can put in a ring of electric fence to protect them. Bear are somewhat more difficult to keep away.” “No bears here,” Dean told him, glancing back. “At least there’s rumours sometimes, but that’s all they are. Maybe even escaped exotics, you know?” Castiel pondered over it, thoughtful. Bees liked a good high take off, so it made sense to put the hives above the orchard. But it would introduce a higher level of risk. They’d be safer in the courtyard obviously, but it was the lowest point in the valley, and there would be all sorts of disturbances that close to the house. No, the bees would have to live on the slope, but cougars were part of the natural world, and finding a way to coexist with them was a small price to pay. Castiel wanted an environment that was suitable for his bees, and not unusually, that kind of paradise was good for other creatures as well. Dean rode on, turning to lead the horses up a slightly steeper slope, and he gestured to Castiel to look back behind them. Already, now, they were rising up above the older part of the orchard up into newer but nethertheless mature growth. “My grandfather planted those trees, back when they bought this place, so they’re not really all that old, but they’re still pretty special. I keep meaning to brew a second batch of cider just from them, the Winchester Special, you know?” “Like the gun?” Castiel asked. “Yeah, like the gun.” “I didn’t try it, I’m afraid. I’m something of a craft beer tourist, and yours was...” Castiel continued, turning in his saddle to get a better look at Dean. He was beaming with pride under the shade of his hat. “I’d only tried your beer quite by chance.” “Oh. Well then you’ll have to try the cider,” Dean said, smiling. “When we get back to the house, maybe.” “I’d like that,” Castiel agreed, fondly. “If it’s anything like the beer, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.” Dean smirked. “It’s way better than the beer. But the demand’s higher for the beer than for the cider, what with how popular homegrown Texas blends are. I sell every bottle I make, and people are always begging for more. Then there’s the folks who come in here trying to steal the plants--it’s crazy.” Castiel nodded, agreeably, then held onto the horn of his saddle as Dean turned the horses back onto the path. They headed higher up the slope, then crossed a gravel road beside a narrow building. Castiel was excited. “What’s this building for?” “Nothing much. We store some gear up here. Sometimes boxes of bottled water for the pickers.” “Do you mind if I get down and have a look?” Dean nodded, and slid down from his own saddle. “Be my guest. Hang on, let me…” A moment later, Castiel was dropping down out of his saddle almost into Dean’s arms, firm hands gripping his waist in mid air. Nose to nose, Dean hesitated, then said “It can be a lot further down than you think, you know?” “Thanks,” Castiel mumbled, blushing again. “Go on, then. I’ll wait here with the horses.” There was an awkward moment where Castiel tried to step the wrong way, and ended up walking right into the arm Dean was holding out to keep a hold on the horse’s lead rope, but then Castiel managed to escape, and at once he made his way around the back of the little building. Two mature apple trees presided over a small fenced yard, offering perhaps some morning shade. A third tree, somewhat older, lay over at one angle, the trunk split in half and singed, as though perhaps it had been struck by lightning. The worst of the afternoon sun was blocked by the building, which made it plenty appealing for hives; bees didn’t like to be overheated, and they generated their own warmth. An apiary would fit nicely in the yard, and there was already a barrier that he could extend to keep the cougar out. An electric wire running around the top would do the trick. Cas almost forgot Dean, standing there in the shade, enjoying the sound and feel of the nature around him. There was a keen buzzing coming from the felled tree, and Cas was drawn toward it, his curiosity piqued. Could it be? “Hey? You still there?” “Just a second!” he called back, approaching closer to the tree. Sure enough, a half dozen bees busied themselves around a gaping hole in the side of the tree, taking flight and disappearing off at sharp angles. Cas watched them for a few more moments in delight, stirring only when Dean came up behind him. “What’s so interesting?” “Honey bees,” Castiel answered, smiling shyly. “Listen to how happy they are.” Dean was quiet beside him. Cas found his attention drifting, taking in the line of the other man’s face, the slight twitch of his lips as he smiled. This close, Castiel was able to watch the sunlight through the leaves play on his freckles, casting faint shadows, too, from his long eyelashes. And his eyes… so green. Unreasonably green. That did it. He was definitely attracted to Dean Winchester. Castiel stood up slowly, careful not to disturb the bees. “What did you do with the horses?” “Oh they’re… I just tied them to the fence. It’s okay.” They made their way back over, and Dean held onto the saddle while Cas clambered gracelessly back up into it. It was a relief to end up with one leg on each side. He’d cracked this bit, Cas thought, it was actually nice and easy to stay put once he was up there. Like flying, all the real drama came when getting up and down. Castiel patted Ali’s neck affectionately while he waited for Dean to get up on his horse. After all, she had been good to him so far, and he was rather hoping that wouldn’t change. “Come on. We can go all the way along the hillside from here. There’s a great view from the other side.” Cas wasn’t sure that any view could be better than any of the others, but he was beginning to think that Dean just wanted to spend more time with him. Dean led the way, only the moment they were out on the path Dean gave his horse a little nudge and they picked up speed, bouncing precariously for a few frightening moments and then moving into a lope that instantly had Cas gripping the pommel of the saddle, terrified for a repeat performance of the bolting horse from his youth. Instead, though, everything seemed… under control, and when he pulled on the reins the little horse just stopped, though she fidgeted restlessly as her friend hurried off ahead of them. The decision was left in Castiel’s hands how fast he wanted to go, and somehow now he felt like it would be cruel to Ali not to canter. Summoning all his courage, Cas released some of the tension on the reins, and the horse instantly moved away. He actually had to encourage her to go faster--though not much. If anything, though, Cas ascribed a kindness to the mare, as though she’d noticed how nervous he was and was deliberately not going as fast as she could just for his sake. When they caught up to Dean, Cas nudged the horse on, startling the other man as they cantered straight past. Dean’s laughter followed him. “Hey! Where you going?” Soon enough they were nose to nose again, and Cas was actually enjoying himself, getting into the rhythm of the lope as they rounded the edge of the hill, climbing just a little higher as they did. Finally they stopped, the horses sucking in air and quickly lowering their heads to nibble the grass. Dean let the reins go, and Cas cautiously lowered his hands to Ali’s neck, not quite daring to let go. He could feel the flush on his own cheeks, his own excitement. He followed Dean’s gaze and gasped in surprise. From their new vantage point, Cas could see the entirety of the valley, but better still, he could see out beyond it as well, the undulating hills dipping down to the flat plain beyond, and the sparkle of sunlight glancing off water--a big lake--off in the distance. Little towns were visible too, out away from Dean’s little idyll, a big wide world of which he was somehow not a real part. It was like looking out from inside a snowglobe, aware that it was huge outside but hardly caring; it was beautiful here--who needed anything more than that?

A beautiful valley and a beautiful host. Cas was almost sad he’d have to leave. At least he had the ride back to the farm to mourn. “So do you think your bees will like it here?” Castiel glanced over toward Dean. He looked so hopeful that it was easy to smile back at him. “I think they will, yes. So it’s okay? You’d be happy to have them?” Dean broke in a shy smile. “If it means you’ll come back too.” Cas took a deep breath, then nodded eagerly, realizing he hadn’t said “yes” outright. He wasn’t sure he could quite handle the intensity of the man’s smile without throwing himself at him. The problem was Cas wasn’t universally good at guessing what was real flirting and what wasn’t. He couldn’t risk the happiness of his bees on misreading the situation. “Shall we head back down, then?” Dean broached, when Castiel regathered his reins. Ali desperately wanted another mouthful of grass, but he held on firmly, and Dean reached to gather up his own. Max was a little more obedient, turning the moment Dean encouraged him away from the grass. Together, they rode back down the hill, and Castiel was grateful that they didn’t canter again. Somehow he felt less steady going downward than he had climbing the hill, and the awkward swing of the horse’s legs underneath them both made him feel as though they would both fall at any moment. They reached the farmhouse without incident, clattering back into the yard.. Dean dismounted, and Castiel followed him down, feeling oddly sore all over, but in a way that was extremely satisfying. Once the horses were tied up and resting in the shade, Dean fetched bottles of cold cider from inside the house, pressing one into Castiel’s hand, then clapping him on the shoulder fondly. “So you bring your bees, next time, yes?” Castiel nodded, unable to keep from breaking into a shy smile. He’d get to see Dean again, and that--almost as much as finding a good home for his bees--was all that Cas could want.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Balthazar chuckled down the phone at him. “After you cried down the phone to me last night, I thought for sure this treasure hunt of yours was going to give you a nervous breakdown. Now you’re practically swooning.” “I’m--” Cas spluttered. “I’m not swooning . You--How are you and Benjamin doing?” “Oh, don’t change the subject, Cassie. Tell me more about this little crush of yours.” Castiel grunted. “I want to know if you’ve had any success. I am your superior, Balthazar.” “The dom voice doesn’t work on me down the phone,” Balthazar drawled. “You know that.” Castiel held his breath, not quite trusting himself to reply. At last Balthazar acquiesced. “Benjamin found three places, he’s doing well. I picked up two more. We might even make it. You know you screwed us, right, making that deal with Michael?” Cas snorted. “We’ll be fine.” “Whatever you say. Now tell me again about Mr. Dreamy...” “Goodnight, Balthazar.” Castiel could hear Balthazar shouting to him not to hang up, even as he laid the phone back down. The truth was, he felt that he’d exposed himself far too much. Balthazar had a way of seeing right through him, and part of that was probably due to the fact that they’d dated for a year back in high school. They’d split amicably: Balthazar wished to keep playing the field, and Castiel was more of a one true romance kind of person. Cas picked up the phone once again, texting Michael to offer a quick update, then sighing, he threw himself down on his back, clicking on the TV and flicking through channels idly. A familiar voice pulled him up, though, and he flicked back, cocking his head curiously. His brother, Michael, was talking to a local news rep outside HQ. The edge of his brother’s prized  Mercedes was just about visible in the corner of the screen. “We’re very happy to have Cain Honey on board as part of our expansion plans in Texas. Cain is an experienced apiculturist, an individual who has built his company up from the ground with great care and love. Shurley Honey has always been proud of our family roots, and our hope with this merger is to maintain our love for the bees while at the same time expanding our interests. That’s our number one priority--happy bees.” Castiel scoffed. Happy bees? Michael hadn’t even touched a bee hive in the last four years. His older brothers were all wound up in corporate shenanigans, and they spent more time in the air, at dinner and playing golf than in the boardroom. “Of course as everyone knows bees are having a harder time than usual these days, but so are farmers. We’re partnering with local farms to help improve their yield while at the same time helping out honey bees. It’s a win win situation.” The clip ended, and the view returned to a couple behind a news desk, talking animatedly about how lovely it was to see Texas agribusiness flourishing and cooperating. Cas couldn’t help but grumble to himself. Michael wasn’t out here making it happen--it hadn’t even been his idea. But when it came to taking the credit, well, it was all a combined effort then, right? Sighing, Cas turned off the television. He’d been trying to chill out, but that plan had gone out the window now. Riled up and antsy, the best he could hope for was to work off some of his bitterness on a run round the block and hope he could grab some sleep afterwards.

The next morning Cas checked out as early as possible, and turned his Lincoln north. It was a long drive back to home base, but Castiel was buoyed by the fact he’d see his friends again. It was Hannah’s job to prep the new colonies--an unenviable task burdened with the occasional heartbreak--and Cas wanted to check on her progress. Admittedly, while part of his hope came from wanting to see his friends, he also couldn’t help but hope there were some hives ready, anxious to get back to Dean’s farm to settle them in. Thinking about returning to the little farm gave him butterflies, and Cas tapped the wheel with frantic energy as he pulled into the Shurley Honey car lot, circling past all the slick cars that belonged to his brothers and the members of the board and heading toward the loading docks at the back. He tucked his car into the empty space where Hannah’s pickup usually parked, tucked right into the corner behind a line of empty delivery trucks. It was shady here, though already quite hot, Cas noted. It was going to be a warm summer. “Castiel.” Cas was barely out of his car when Gadreel emerged from inside the warehouse. He was wearing his beaten up apron, sleeves rolled up to elbows. “Brother, you look beat. Did you get too much sun?” “Just didn’t sleep well,” Cas answered, sighing. “Saw Michael on TV.” “Sure. Far be it for me to speak badly of your brothers, but…” Cas clapped a hand on Gadreel’s shoulder. “You can say whatever you like about them. If anyone deserves a beef with them it’s you. Locking you away in the shop just cause they didn’t like how you handled PR.” “I could have found another job,” Gadreel pointed out. “But you’re secretly in love with Hannah.” Castiel laughed when Gadreel looked affronted. “Come on. The only one who doesn’t know you’re in love with her is Hannah.” “Yes well… She’s too good for me.” Cas shook his head. “Sure. She’s too good for all of us. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to be happy, though, does it?” Gadreel shrugged, but by now they’d made it up to the door of the workshop, and Castiel followed him inside. There was fine sawdust in the air, and Cas took a mask down, clipping it in place over his head before following Gadreel in. “So I hear you had some luck in love in Texas too?” Gadreel teased. “A handsome apple farmer?” “Balthazar should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Cas answered. “He only has your best interests at heart.” Castiel scoffed loudly. “The only interests he has at heart are his own. Balthazar loves to gossip. If it were an Olympic sport, he’d be the incomparable champion.” Gadreel laughed, waving at Cas. “Come on this way. I have something to show you.” Castiel followed, feeling self conscious. Was he so obvious in his interest? Yes, perhaps he’d been over the top in his description of the farm and Dean’s hospitality to Balthazar on the phone, but what about that description had truly given away how he felt about the man? Maybe it was some secret knowledge that Balthazar had, as a former partner, which had given Cas away. Yes, that must be it. Dating him had given Balthazar an unfair advantage. He’d have to take care to account for that in the future. In the corner of the workshop, which was full of bee boxes and frames of different sizes in various states of finish, was a construction that Cas was intimately familiar with, considering it was his latest apiarian obsession. “It’s a top bar hive.” The construction looked like… well. It was like a flower pot, the kind that was long enough to stretch all the way along a windowsill. At the widest point across the top it was as wide as Castiel’s forearm, and maybe as long as his body if he’d stretched out sideways. “It’s beautiful, Gadreel. You always do such lovely work.” Castiel lifted the lid off the top, admiring the frames that Gadreel had built inside. The construction was less complex than the Langstroth hives. These frames were made of a single bar each which stretched across the width of the hive. The bottom of the frame, which slotted nicely in place, was prepared with a stripe of wax which would indicate for the bees where to build from, and they would build downward, suspending from the frame just as they would do in natural forms, albeit regimented by the construction of the hive. Best of all, they were well designed for warmer climates. For the farms in Texas, they would be ideal. Michael, though, considered it too much expense, even if it was better and healthier for the bees than the claustrophobic Langstroth design. “You should take it,” Gadreel said. “For your farm in Texas. Call it a uh… an experimental placement.” Cas ran his hand across the bars. A small smile had curled into place on his lips. He couldn’t escape his own joy now. “Thank you, Gadreel. Really, I… This is wonderful.” “Couldn’t wait till I got here to show him, huh?” Cas startled around, beaming when he saw Hannah crossing the floor behind him. He stepped over to give her a warm hug, and she returned his greeting with a kiss on the cheek. “It’s really great, isn’t it?” “Gadreel’s outdone himself as usual,” Castiel agreed. “How are the swarms doing? Do you think you’ll be ready?” “Well you know bees, Cas. They do most of the work themselves.” “They do,” Castiel agreed. “They work very hard. I try to work just as hard as they do in order to justify what we take from them.” “You work too hard,” Hannah reprimanded. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.” “That’s what you always say,” Cas sighed. “Though in this case you’d be right.” “He saw Michael on TV.” Hannah pursed her lips, then nodded slowly. “That would do it.” Castiel sighed, then shook his head. “I’d like to get back down there as soon as I can,” he said. “And not just because of Farmer McDreamy,” he quickly added, when Gadreel opened his mouth. “But because I’d like to give the bees every opportunity to settle before the summer begins. “Farmer McDreamy?” Hannah asked. Cas scowled at her. “I’m not fooling you, huh? Okay fine, Balthazar told me about him too.” “I suppose it would be too much for me to have a private private life, wouldn’t it?” “Nothing is a secret here, brother,” Gadreel teased. Castiel’s warning glance between him and Hannah, however, eyebrows raising, quickly earned silence. Some things were still a secret, then. “I’m going to see if Michael has time to speak to me, then start prepping the van for the delivery,” Castiel said, at last. “If you’re not busy this evening, Hannah?” “Italian?” Castiel nodded, grateful. “Am I invited?” Gadreel asked. “Of course,” Cas answered, though he feared it would quickly devolve into third wheel shenanigans the moment he said so. Gadreel was looking at Hannah with unreserved affection. Well, too bad. Maybe he could give them the last little push they needed to get together? “In that case I’ll see you later,” he said, instead of complaining. “I’ll leave the two of you alone.” Yes, there was definitely something there. Hannah’s blush was more than telling enough.    Castiel was relieved to discover that Hannah hadn’t blocked him in, though she had been forced to park her truck in the direct sunlight. He moved his Lincoln out the way, then checked her car for keys and, finding them, tucked it into the shady spot that he’d stolen earlier. She’d thank him later. When he got back to his car though, out in the baking sunshine, a man was waiting beside it, reaching in the open window to turn off the engine. Cas hurried closer. “What do you think you’re doing?” “What do you think you’re doing?” answered Cain, turning to face him. “Leaving your engine running for no reason? I would have thought you were more environmentally conscious than that, Castiel. It’s one of the things I like about you.” Cas found himself blushing, ashamed. It was true. Typically speaking he never left his engine running, but in this case… No, he was just embarrassed that he’d been caught, and that wasn’t fair. He’d been doing a good deed for a beloved friend. He raised his chin defiantly. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Cain sighed. “I mean, come on. You and I… we’re more similar than different. I don’t particularly want to get off on the wrong foot.” Cas wasn’t sure entirely what to say to that, but he waited anyway. Cain was still standing right up against his car, so there was no getting inside without asking him to move aside anyway. “We’re going to be business partners,” Cain continued. “But truly, Castiel, I’m really not that fond of the corporate life. It’s why I chose beekeeping. It’s something that you can control and yet mostly you simply guide the bees and then allow them to do the rest. Nature takes its course, and when you allow nature freedom to choose, it’s surprising how predictable that course can be--how beautiful in form and function. Don’t you think so?” “Yes I…” Castiel faltered, then softened. “I do think that.” “Compared to humanity, spreading out in disorder… there’s something very beautiful about a simple hexagon.” Cas could only nod. Cain had a way with words--which was unsurprising, considering he was a passionate speaker on the benefits of the domesticated honey bee. Besides, the way that the man was looking at him was getting him hot under the collar. It was a fierce kind of stare which was almost as ferocious as the sun itself. “I’m going to invite you to have lunch with me,” Cain said. “And I’d really appreciate it if you said yes. Will you say yes?” Castiel wasn’t sure that he could even say no if he wanted to. They were going into business with Cain, after all, and his rejection might be considered detrimental to the arrangement. It wouldn’t be a loss either way. He’d always wanted to hear one of Cain’s talks on bees, and this was a more intimate conversation. What was there to lose? He nodded, slowly. “Lunch would be amenable.” “Lunch would be amenable?” Cain chuckled. “Could you be any more enthusiastic?” Cas sighed. “Lunch would be great, thank you.” “Well come on, then. We can take my car, I’ll drop you off back here.” It made sense to only take one car, but it still didn’t please Cas to leave his here, besides the presumption of Cain tossing him his keys as though he’d planned this all along. Cain’s Lexus was… elegant. Of course, Cas was used to his brother’s slick Mercedes, so when the Lexus took off with only the slightest whir from its hybrid electric motor, Castiel found himself blinking in surprise, sitting forward in the passenger seat. “I didn’t even realize…” “You surely didn’t expect me to drive one of those gas guzzlers? Not my style, I’m afraid.” “No, I suppose not.” Castiel licked his lips, paying more attention to the car around him. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected a hybrid to look different inside or out. It was just a car to him, after all; the only necessity was an engine and wheels, and preferably some space in the back seat to put a couple of bee hives. His Lincoln had a lovely back seat, though to be certain he had considered, recently, if it wouldn’t be better to find something that got better gas mileage. As he was looking around, Cas noticed a little silver frame dangling from the mirror. It spun around every time they turned a corner, revealing the image of a smiling woman with curly hair every time it turned. Cain noticed him looking. “My wife. She died.” “Oh,” Castiel said, glumly. “I’m sorry.” “You remind me of her. We built the company together, and she was so passionate. She thought that she could save the world, if only she could teach enough people to be better to the wider lives and lifestyles around them.” “How did she…?” “Ah she…” Cain stared out ahead, the kind of stare that, Castiel knew, said that he had told this story so many times and yet never truly shared the depth of his pain associated with it. “Some people simply don’t wake up after surgery. There no explanation why--it just… It happens.” Cas sank back in his seat, almost wishing he hadn’t asked. He couldn’t fathom how it must feel, and so it wasn’t even possible to find the words to apologize. It would be empty anyway. “She saved a dozen other people when she died,” Cain said, after a moment. “It was… I can’t tell you how difficult it was in that moment to accept her decision, but I’m glad she made it.” Castiel was sat imobile in the passenger’s seat as they pulled off the freeway and descended in silence down one long road and into the parking lot of an upscale eatery. “But that was a long time ago,” Cain amended, when he’d stopped the car and glanced across at how ashen Castiel must look. “It’s taken me some time to truly mourn her, and to find enough satisfaction in my life to truly consider sharing it with another person.” Cain reached across, placing his hand on Castiel’s knee as he spoke. “The first step is always the hardest, as they say.” Castiel was too stunned to complain. Sure, he’d suspected that maybe Cain was coming onto him, but it was a surprise to have it made so clear so quickly. In some ways, though, he felt trapped by the proposal. It was… uncomfortable. Cain had compared him to his dead wife, pointed out his delicate personal situation, nevermind the fact that the merger between their companies might rest on how Cas behaved. It felt like he had no choice but to go along with it. That and, since he’d agreed to the lift, Castiel had to hope that this lunch would go well just so that he didn’t have to call a friend to drive him back to his car. Great. And yet...there was nothing fundamentally wrong with Cain. It turned out he was knowledgeable about bees and beekeeping, that he still deeply loved and missed his wife, that he was a wonderful gentleman and gentle and polite with the waitstaff, even when they got the order wrong. Castiel was flattered by Cain’s interest in him, but all the while throughout the lunch Cas couldn’t help thinking about green eyes, about the way Dean Winchester had looked at him and then pretended he wasn’t. There could be nothing there. He didn’t know the man, really, didn’t even know if he was interested, or hell, if he was even gay. So why was Castiel shunning Cain for some stranger, turning away from a man who was quite blatantly interested in him for something which might very well be entirely in his imagination? Cain called his name softly while he waved for the bill. “There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you. It’s about your brother’s plans for expansion--he shared them with me. It’s his belief that there’s no reason not to move the Shurley brand into producing drizzle honey, and using this merger as a mask for that transformation.” Castiel blinked, trying to shake off his reverie and focus on what he was being told. Drizzle honey? “What?” “Like the bears.” He still felt lost. Bears? Drizzle honey? And then it came to him. Plastic bears full of… well. It could hardly be called honey. Except that legally it was. “He wants to water down the honey with corn syrup?” Castiel asked, stunned. “That’s right. It’s his belief that if we do it during the merger nobody will notice. We’ll produce a much larger yield, of course, but at the consequence of a drop in quality.” “I… What? Why in the...? But we’re a honey company!” Castiel cried. “Our father built this company from the ground up because of his dedication to the quality and flavor of his honey. Michael can’t possibly think…” “It’s what the entire boardroom thinks,” Cain said. “But this is what I think. You have a holding in the company too. Liquidate your shares into a share of the assets. Screw this merger, screw your family. You can go into business with me instead. You’re the one I really want, Castiel. Your experience, your passion for the craft. Take my name and your hives and we can be a real competitor for your brothers. No corn syrup, no imports, only American honey from American bees.” Cas didn’t know how to answer that, but thankfully Cain relieved him quickly enough. “You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.” Shaking his head in bewilderment, Castiel followed Cain back to his car, forgetting even to thank him when he held the passenger door open for him. The drive back to Shurley Honey HQ was almost completely silent, thanks more to the lack of conversation than the gentle electric whir of the Lexus’ engine. When they pulled up, Castiel was just a little too slow to let himself out, and sure enough Cain appeared at the door to swing it open for him, as though Cas were quite incapable of opening a door on his own. Instead he found himself standing trapped between Cain and the door as he stepped into the only escape route and crowded Castiel, helping himself to a kiss while Castiel was still too stunned by the move to resist. It was everything Cas could do not to slap the man when he stepped back, trembling with shock and stunned by how shamelessly pushy he was. Had Cain ever been told “no?” Did he just assume that the people in his life were tripping over themselves with how much they wanted him, desperate to please in every possible way? And yet Castiel restrained himself for the same reason he’d restrained himself from saying no before, because the family business was on the line and because… Well. All Cain had done was be pushy, right? Had Castiel ever given him reason to believe that he wasn’t interested? He tried to think back, remembering the frenzied way he’d fanboyed the man back in Michael’s office. He’d agreed to go to lunch with him, too. Had he ever actually said that he wasn’t interested? It wasn’t like Cain wasn’t his type, either. Hell, maybe that was the problem. Maybe he just had a really shitty type. The truth was that after just a day with Dean, who had been sweet and affectionate and not at all pushy or rambunctious, Castiel was finding himself rethinking the appeal. He was too used to his own freedom. He liked opening his own doors, and consequently not getting trapped against cars for stolen kisses. Or maybe he’d have been fine with that if it had been another man who was doing it. Or hell, if it had been playful rather than… whatever it was this kiss had been. It had been forced upon him, and that just wasn’t okay. Cas wriggled out from underneath Cain’s arm, putting a quick space between them and trying his best to look natural. From the frown on the man’s face, it was obvious he was failing. “Thank you for lunch, Mr. Adams, it was lovely.” “Cain, please.” Rubbing at his eyebrow with one hand, Cain closed the passenger side door with the other. “You’ll call my office when you’ve thought about my offer?” “I will,” Cas replied, gripping his keys tight and forcing a smile. “And thank you for the heads up. I have a lot to think about.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“What an asshole,” Balthazar spat, furiously. “You should have called me. I’d have sorted him out.” “You weren’t even in New Mexico at lunchtime,” Gadreel pointed out. “However I’d have quite happily have stepped in in your place.” Cas sighed over his pizza. “Your protectiveness is appreciated, but I can take care of myself.” “Really? Because you could have fooled me--” Balthazar started, his tone slipping toward accusing. To be fair, Cas had elected to take the role of designated driver, and Balthazar was on his third Italian beer of the evening. “The point is he shouldn’t have to,” Hannah said, delicately. “When will men understand that flirting and assault aren’t the same thing?” Balthazar groaned loudly, and Castiel kicked him under the table. “In any case,” Cas said, quickly, “I’m not sure what to do about his offer. If Michael really does mean to put corn syrup in the honey, there’s nothing I can do about it, especially if he has the full weight of the board behind him.” “It’s a problem,” Gadreel agreed. “We’ve always been proud of our product, but Michael and the others don’t care about that. All they see is profit. Less honey, plus filler, equals an inferior product--one which they can charge more for because it becomes in a cute novelty shape.” “That sounds about right,” Castiel complained. “I don’t understand. Can’t people taste the difference any more?” Silence fell around the table, until, at last, Balthazar sat forward to announce. “Karaoke. I just remembered. It’s Friday night. Friday is karaoke .” Now it was Gadreel’s turn to groan, until Cas clapped him on the shoulder. “Karaoke is perfect . And I have the perfect song for you...” One verse and one chorus into REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” Gadreel understood Castiel’s point. And Hannah understood Gadreel’s; she must have, considering that they made out in Cas’ back seat all the way home. When Cas pulled up, at last, outside Balthazar’s apartment building, he found the other man looking at him intently in the darkness. “You could come up, you know. Like the old days.” Castiel smiled, peering across the darkness at Balthazar. He was truly drunk, but at the same time Balthazar was a strange old soul, quite capable of managing more common sense while sloshed beyond comprehension than some people managed while totally sober. Castiel almost envied him that. There was nobody he’d known who could be more easily selfish, but do it as generously and kindly as Balthazar did. Sometimes he was cruel, yes, but it was always good for other people as well as for himself. Their break up had been one of those things too. At the time Cas had believed it to be cruel and selfish, but it was never going to work between them. Balthazar would never have settled down, and Cas would have been denied the chance to pursue true romance, a more… well, a more profound bond. That was what he wanted, ultimately; someone to love who would love him in return. Balthazar knew that, and somehow they were still friends despite it all. “You know that’s not me.” “I know. But we used to fuck, Castiel. We could fuck again. It wouldn’t have to mean anything.” “I’d want it to mean something,” Cas answered. “It would just be moving backwards instead of forwards. And what about that perfect woman you’re always telling me about? How would you meet her if I’m holding you back from your polyamory bliss?” “Mmm,” Balthazar sighed. “Do you think it’s really out there?” “You’re one in a million,” Cas smiled. “You know that. But those other ones in a million are all looking for more than one lover too. Ups your chances.” “That’s a really good point, Castiel. You’re so smart.” “And you’re so drunk,” Cas echoed, placing his hand on the back of Balthazar’s neck and leaning over to brush the lightest kiss to his lips. “Very drunk. Do you need me to tuck you into bed?” “No… No, I’ll be okay.” Balthazar pulled back, rubbing at his cheeks with both hands. “I can just about manage that on my own. Goodnight, Cas.” “Goodnight, Balthazar.” Cas sank back into his seat the moment the passenger side door shut, sighing softly. If even Balthazar was lonely and unhappy, somehow it made the world a little colder. Castiel wanted to find love; at the end of the day that was his one motivation; to find love and be loved. Sex wasn’t even important, so long as he found someone who loved him, it was secondary to his own personal needs. Just… just love. Just romance. Someone to come home to and share his day. Someone to eat with, and laugh, and watch The Real Housewives of Orange County with. Someone who cared for him, and unlike Balthazar, wasn’t going to spend the whole time thinking about how trapped they felt by monogamy. His mind produced the image of Dean, and Cas shook it off. He was being ridiculous. He didn’t know if Dean was anything like that. Once upon a time he’d thought that Balthazar was like that, and that they only loved each other. He’d been so wrong. Maybe Dean was one of Balthazar’s one in a million guys. It would be a goddamn miracle if he was one of Castiel’s--mostly because that was just his kind of luck. These things never turned out in his favor, and Cas was beginning to wonder if the universe just didn’t like him. He checked his phone to see if Michael had texted him back. Nothing. The universe hated him.    Not even self doubt could weigh down Castiel’s mood when, three days later, he drove one of the company’s delivery trucks out of the yard with the happy hum of bees vibrating behind him. Heading back to Dean’s farm already had the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, despite Cas’ efforts to be more realistic with his expectations, so instead of lingering on his desire to see the other man again, Cas tried to focus on his joy for placing new bees in a happy new home, walking himself through the process one step at a time. The drive seemed to take forever. The biggest concern, other than air circulation and dust, was the vibration of the truck. The hives were packed to protect them from as much as possible, but there was no avoiding it. The truth was, though, that the moment the hives were placed the bees clung to them, knowing better than to wander too far. Eventually, when the hives stopped moving, they would be content to explore their new surroundings. Cas hoped they’d be happy, that they’d settle, but much of beekeeping was about hope. You could do everything right, and next time you looked the bees had fled their custom built home and gone to find their own. It wasn’t a loss, though, not to Cas. Those bees had sought their own freedom. They had a courage that Cas wasn’t certain he possessed. The idea of splitting from his father’s company was daunting. Charles Shurley had founded the honey company on his own in the sixties, touting the all natural brand to a receptive new age audience. Castiel was one of his youngest sons; he’d embraced the company, and while he’d learned everything he knew about bees from Gabriel, not from Chuck himself, he’d still devoted himself to the bees, and therefore to the noble origins of Shurley Honey. If the company was moving away from that, then Cas didn’t want anything to do with it, but splitting off with Cain? It gave him a safety net, yes, a brand name to fall back on, a route to distribution, but was the cost acceptable? Cain might appreciate bees, as Cas did, but that really didn’t excuse his behavior. Having one thing in common wasn’t enough cause to build a relationship, and Castiel suspected that going into business with him would simply be moving from one trap into another. But leaving the company and striking out on his own had simply never occurred to him; it was too risky. He would have the bees, yes, but Cas would have to start from scratch. He’d have no employees--meaning he’d have to leave Hannah and the others behind - -he’d have no deals with stores to stock his honeypots, he’d have no climate controlled warehouse… It would be so much to give up. Could he stay, though, when his ethics were under fire, and when the very bees he loved so much were a watered down commodity, only given value for their output? Castiel wasn’t any closer to a decision when he pulled onto the long gravel road that descended down to the Winchester farm. Off the asphalt, Cas rolled the truck over onto one side, rolling his left tire down the line of grass in the center while the other flattened the grass verge. It was his hope that it might relieve some of the vibrations. Dean was waiting outside the farmhouse when he pulled up, beaming bright as he climbed up eagerly into the truck beside him. “You mind if I come and watch?” “Watch?” Cas scoffed. “You can come and help . There’s twenty colonies in the back and it’s already quite hot.” “Well when we’re done I’ll treat you to dinner,” Dean answered, smiling. “And frozen yogurt. Homemade.” “A man after my own heart,” Cas answered offhandedly. Except offhanded or not, he couldn’t help but notice how Dean’s smile seemed to brighten up that much more at the comment. Damn it. He really was falling for this guy. The little truck climbed up the hill very slowly, thanks to the extra care Castiel was taking driving on the verge. Every time Dean looked over at him--and he spent more time looking than not--Cas had to try very hard to keep his eyes on the verge. If he looked over, he’d never look away, and they’d end up sailing downhill through Dean’s farm with two hundred thousand angry bees close behind them. Cas couldn’t decide which would be a more painful death. At last they pulled up beside the little building halfway up the hill, and Cas sighed his relief, glancing over at Dean who was, quite to his surprise, buzzing as well. In excitement. “Are you ready?” “Do I get to wear the silly hat?” “It’s not silly,” Cas answered. “Unless you’d prefer to do it without any protective clothing at all?” Castiel had to bury his urge to laugh by biting down on his lip, otherwise Dean might have been offended. Then again he had a suspicion that the bitch face which he’d found so funny in the first place was absolutely meant to have that kind of effect. Once they’d dismounted from the van, Castiel helped Dean dress, zipping him into a jacket and veil and discovering--much to his relief--that Dean wore much the same size gloves as he did. “Some of them might be quite agitated,” he explained. “To prevent that we’re going to crowd the entrance with natural brush so that they realize their surroundings have changed, in the hopes that they’ll reorient themselves correctly.” “You mean… I’m not sure what that means.” “It’s easier to show you,” Cas answered, smiling as he pulled on his own gloves. “Don’t worry, they’re going to love it here.” “I’m not worried,” Dean replied, following Cas round to the back of the truck. But the warble in his voice said otherwise. Castiel tried not to let himself fantasize that Dean was just afraid that the bees leaving meant Cas wouldn’t come back either, and yet that was exactly where his mind wandered, mostly because it was a fear he shared. He wanted them to be happy here because he could imagine being happy here. Rolling up the back door, Cas reached beneath to unlatch the ramp, pulling it back out and lowering it carefully to the floor. He was pleased to see that all the hives were still strapped two by two inside the truck. There was a dolly strapped in the corner, which Cas removed first before waving to Dean to come and help him, and then they started by taking down the special top bar hive, which Gadreel had insisted Cas load at the last minute (“Don’t tell Michael!”) Dean showed a lot of interest in the empty top bar hive, helping Cas to get him down while quizzing him about what it was used for. “It’s a different kind of bee hive. So instead of those cramped boxes, the bees build their comb hanging off the frames, like they’re building from a tree branch. It’s much more natural.” Dean nodded as though he understood--which Castiel doubted--and helped him put the empty hive over by the edge of the garden. By the time they came back to the truck, Cas had an idea of how he wanted to proceed. “If we place these first, then put up the fence to keep the cougar out, we can see what time it is once we’re done. I’d rather let them out when there’s some direct sunlight.” “You could always stay overnight, let them out in the morning,” Dean said. “Sam’s gone back to the city, so there’s room.” Cas faltered. He didn’t want to look too eager, and yet the invitation had his heart beating faster almost straight away. Sure, it wasn’t a come on, and Dean wasn’t exactly trying to seduce him--though if he was the way to do that was absolutely frozen yogurt--but it felt as close to one as Cas had gotten in...  Well. Since before the weekend, actually. So maybe not that long after all. “We’ll see,” Castiel answered, trying not to sound excited at all. “The last thing I want to do is impose myself on you if there’s no reason to.” That took the wind out of Dean’s sails somewhat, and Cas found himself regretting being so stern as the conversation dried up. Fortunately there was also plenty of work to do lifting beehives down out of the truck, so they both buried themselves in the physicality of it, especially since the last part of the walk was over grass, and the dolly got stuck every time, forcing them to pick up the hives between them and carry them to their final positions. Once every hive was pointing outward along the fence, leaving a large gap in the center where the old fallen tree was, Castiel went to fetch the last of his things from the truck. He ended up having to make two trips, once with an empty brood box full of beekeeping things, and then a second trip with an electric drill, a heavy plastic box, rubber rings and a roll of electric fence tape. “Now this I can do,” Dean proclaimed, finally smiling again. Castiel accepted the help, raising the drill for Dean to take, then setting about unpacking the brood box while Dean got to work. The old wooden beam fence was easily augmented with electric tape, more than enough to keep out curious cougars, while Castiel propped the big wooden brood box right up next to the downed tree, lifting off the waterproof lid to reveal the half dozen empty frames and drizzling lemongrass oil on the inside. “What’s that for?” Dean asked. “The bees in the tree will be attracted to it,” Cas answered. “They’ll come and investigate, and see all these lovely empty frames, all this beeswax just waiting to be made into new comb, and they’ll think twice about their cramped, damp home inside the tree.” “So it’s like you put an empty mansion next door?” “And I’m throwing a banquet and offering them a fully stocked nursery--it’s really quite generous of me, don’t you think?” “So what’s in the bottle, and if I squirt some around Sam’s room, will it convince you to stay over?” Castiel stopped what he was doing, lowering the bottle and looking over at Dean. The other man wasn’t looking straight at him, but was hiding his face as he kept on drilling holes for the screw in rubber rings. Nonetheless, it was pretty obvious from the fact he’d segued the question so clumsily into the conversation that he desperately wanted Cas to stay. He couldn’t possibly turn that invitation down, right? Not when Dean seemed to have so much invested in the answer being “yes.”. “I don’t think that will be necessary. As much as I like the smell of lemongrass essence, there’s other things I find much more attractive.” Now it was Castiel’s turn to blush and falter. “About the farm! The farm is - -it’s very beautiful.” Sure, he grumbled to himself. The farm. Not the dashing man in the silly hat who was building a fence for his bees for no reason other than to keep him company. A man who probably had other more important things to do, and yet was here making Cas feel welcome even so. Not the man who flashed a quick, dazzling white smile at him before going back to work, as though he saw through the entire facade. 
Sure.

By the time the fence was up and working the shadows had stretched, and Cas decided that since he was staying anyway it would be better to open the hives up in the morning. What bees hadn’t been locked inside when Hannah had loaded them were still clinging to the outside, sticking with their colony to the bitter end. They’d all be fine until morning; it was a warm night, and no predators were going to get them now. Castiel packed the gear back into the van, turned it around precariously on the narrow path, and started back down into the valley. Beside him was Dean, drenched in sweat and visibly pleased. “Thank you for helping today,” Castiel said. “I realize you probably have quite a lot to do…” “Me? You’d think so, but really it’s a waiting game now. All the bines are in and the frames are up already, I’m just waiting for the shoots to start pushing through.” “There’s really nothing you have to do?” “I’m even ahead on this year’s taxes,” Dean smiled. “Sam helps me keep organized. That’s mostly why I end up experimenting so much, you know? I work hard, but it’s lots of work and then it’s none at all.” “So you create different blends of beer?” “And some I get right and some I really don’t,” Dean laughed. “But it’s fun. It’s a creative hobby, and some people seem to enjoy the end product, which is good enough for me. Profits from the cider really keep this place going, and that’s just more of the same every year.” “It’s admirable,” Castiel said. “There was a time when our family company made beeswax candles and soap--we don’t do that anymore. The bees do all the work now, and we simply reap the rewards of their efforts.” “That’s too bad,” Dean sighed. “Hey, what about mead? Or melomel?” “Oh we haven’t… we’ve never done anything like that.” “It’d be a fun experiment, though. Your honey, my apples? We could put a picture of your apple tree bees on the label.” “ Your apple tree bees,” Castiel corrected. “They’re your bees, from your apple tree, and I would hope that should they move into the bee box, you would keep them as your own. I will show you how to take care of them, of course, but then any honey they produce would naturally be yours to keep as well.” Dean was so silent that Cas had to step on the brakes just to check that he was still there. But Dean was staring at him with parted lips and big wide eyes, and Cas smiled uncertainly, hoping that what he was seeing was a genuinely positive reaction. “Is that okay?” “My own bees? Seriously?” “They were always your bees, Dean, I am simply… I’m regifting them to you. You don’t have to. I mean, if you have no interest in bees I truly understand...” “Are you kidding? You like them, right? So they can’t be all bad. Besides, they were pretty cute huddling round their boxes like that. Not scary at all.” Beaming, Cas turned back to the road. They were coming down the last stretch now, out into the courtyard where Ruby was waiting with her tail wagging ferociously. “I’m glad you feel that way. I don’t think they’re really that scary either. Just… misrepresented.” Castiel parked the truck right in the back of the courtyard out of the way, the driver’s side door so close to the wall that he had to clamber out the passenger side after Dean. But before they could hunt out drinks and frozen yogurt, Dean urged Cas to follow him back into the barn, where he could feed Ruby and fill her water bowl while Castiel reintroduced himself to the puppies. They were just about as wiggly as they had been last time, only now their eyelids were beginning to peel back. Dewy dark blue showed under sticky eyelids. Cas knew the pigment would come into them later, except for those that had white patches over their faces like Ruby. The growly puppy from before was immediately back at it the moment Cas picked her up. Castiel actually laughed, and Dean grinned at him across the barn. “You should name her,” Dean said. “Maybe even… Nah. You should totally name her.” “I’ll have to think about it,” Cas answered, stroking the pup’s head while she kept up her growling. She didn’t stop, in fact, until Cas returned her to the box and gathered up one of her brother’s for petting instead. Ruby returned soon after, giving Cas the stink eye until all her puppies were safely returned to her bed, squeaking and suckling away happily. Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Let’s get that yogurt, huh?” One huge bowl of frozen yogurt, two jugs of ice water, and absolutely no real food later, Cas was admittedly somewhat close to believing he wasn’t imagining things. He was into Dean, and Dean seemed to really be into him. So what was he waiting for? What was he so afraid of? They sat up laughing until much too late, and the question only seemed to get more profound, but the answer? Cas already knew that. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for the “if” or “but” that turned this generous flirting gorgeous man into yet another trap, or the ugly blemish in his character that would surely undermine any hope for romance. As long as Castiel kept looking for something that wasn’t there, he wasn’t allowing himself to give in to temptation, and therefore he could avoid the certain heartache of rejection. Nevermind how frankly awful it would be to drive away from such a good new friend, and such a lovely home for his bees. That was it. He was only looking out for the best interests of his bees. Nothing to do with fear of his heart being broken, no siree.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next morning, Dean was up at sunrise with Cas to let the bees out. They stuck sticks from the downed tree into the ground in front of the hives and jammed grass in the entranceways before removing the entrance blocks, and the bees emerged slowly, climbing all over the grass blockages into the bright morning sun. As Cas explained to Dean, the grass would slow them down and force them to notice that they’d moved. By the time the strands wilted and blew away off the ledges the bees would be more than happy where they were--so long as the hives moved no more than 3 foot away and no less than 3 miles away from where they’d been placed. Satisfied that the bees were happy, and nothing Castiel could do now would make them stay if they chose to leave, Cas thanked Dean for his hospitality and drove off up the gravel road, already wishing that he didn’t have to go.   That fortnight felt like it took forever. Cas had no reason to go back; in fact, he had to install four more apiaries in the meantime elsewhere in Texas, putting two on farms he’d never even visited before. These at least gave him the chance to actually catch up with Benjamin, who’d been so busy with finding new hosts for bees that they hadn’t seen each other since Christmas. After fond hugs, they’d set up fifteen more hives in their new home, then head out for an evening meal together on the company’s dime. Benjamin was more than happy to tell Cas that Dean was perfect for him. “You’ve met your soulmate,” Benjamin told him. “You can’t really pass an opportunity like that up. You should grab it with both hands, Castiel. It might be your only chance.” “So what do you suggest I do?” Cas asked, sourly. “Kiss him. Kiss him right on the mouth.” Cas shook his head. “I think I’d rather ask first. What if he doesn’t want to be kissed?” Benjamin considered that for a moment. “You’re right, I suppose, but it’s not very romantic.” “It’s not very romantic when you don’t want to be kissed, either.” Benjamin blinked at him, curiously. “Am I missing something?” By the time Castiel finished explaining the situation with Cain, Benjamin was exhibiting the same signs of fierce protectiveness as Balthazar and the others had. Cas smiled. It never ceased to amaze him how beloved he was by his friends. They would do anything for him, which was why the possibility of leaving them behind to pursue new things frightened him so much. He owed them all so much love returned for what had been given to him. “In that case, I suppose you’ll have to wait until the moment is right,” Benjamin said at last. “Though it might be a long wait, with you. When’s the last time you made a move?” A beep from Cas’ phone saved him from needing to stage a defence, and Castiel reached into his pocket to fetch his phone. “That must be Michael,” he announced. “I texted him almost two weeks ago…” But Castiel only frowned at it as it beeped again, and then again. “What is it?” “Cain,” Castiel sighed. “Asking why I haven’t texted him with an answer yet. He wants to go to lunch.” “You’re allowed to say “no,” you know.” “Michael will kill me, though. If this isn’t a done deal and Cain backs out, he’s going to blame it on me.” “And if Michael finds out you’re colluding to ditch the company and compete he’s going to what? Throw a party? Just tell him you’re not interested. In him or his deal.” “I’ll… It’s only lunch.” “Cas…” But Castiel shook his head. It felt like duty somehow, to try and make this work. For the company. And yet could it be said he had much love for the company anymore, considering what he’d been told about Michael’s plan, and the fact that even now, two weeks after texting him to ask about it, Michael still hadn’t so much as texted him back. Benjamin sighed. “Alright. I won’t argue with you. I get it, but I don’t have to like it.”   The sky was surly with thick purple clouds when Castiel rolled his Lincoln down the long gravel road toward the Winchester farm. The unsettled weather challenged the roar of the Lincoln’s engine, easily louder by far. And just as the trepidation was becoming unbearable, Dean appeared in the road just ahead of him, waving for Cas to slow down. Cas stepped on the brake, and the big car lurched to a stop for Dean to climb in. The electricity in the air seemed to have permeated Dean’s mood as well. He was wide eyed with worry, and it infected Castiel instantly as well. “What is it?” “It’s… I don’t know how to say it. Just drive up there, okay? I’m so sorry, Cas. I didn’t know people would be like this.” Castiel’s mind immediately leapt to the very worst scenarios. Had someone set his bees on fire? Had they destroyed the hives, ripped down the fences, or stolen the honey? Cas gripped the wheel tight as the Lincoln powered up the opposite hill, wishing that they would get there faster, and that Dean would just tell him what had happened. It felt like the drive took forever, until at last they pulled up beside the apiary. At first, Castiel couldn’t see that anything was wrong. The bees were agitated by the approaching storm, retreating to their hives and buzzing moodily around the entrances. “I just came up here and they were gone. Just gone . It’s my fault for not putting a gate up on this side of the hill. They just drove in in the middle of the night I guess--” Only now did Cas realize what Dean was saying. Two of the cement blocks structures they’d put down to keep the hives off the ground stood hiveless, empty. The beautiful new Langstroth hives that Cas and Dean had placed on top of them were gone. And Dean was frantically upset. “Dean… You couldn’t have known.” “But they stole your hives. I was supposed to be taking care of them…” Cas turned Dean physically toward him. “Hey. Hey . You have taken care of them. It’s not your fault that there are disreputable people out in the world. This is the unfortunate cost of doing business, Dean. I’m sure you know that. Like um… cases of beer falling off the back of delivery trucks, yes? It’s precisely like that. We can take more care to protect them from now on, but please don’t be upset. There’s really nothing you could have done.” Dean still seemed inconsolable, but Cas gestured for Dean to follow him instead, leading him over to the empty hive beside the tree trunk. It was buzzing gently now, alive with the sounds of the colony that had found its way inside. They were still living in the tree as well, Castiel noted, but there was a distinct mass of happy bees in the brood box as well, much to Cas’ delight. “It’s really not that bad,” Cas said. “We’re already up one colony as it is, see? And the more bees out in the world the better, hm? Come on, there’s no point checking on them now, it’s going to rain any moment.”   Cas wasn’t wrong; the rain hit them in a sheet before they’d so much as started to head back to the car, and by the time they pulled into the courtyard it was raining hard enough that even the short run into the house almost drowned them again. Dean fetched towels, and then to Cas’ surprise he also lit a fire in the hearth, gesturing for Cas to curl up on the couch in front of it. It was a grateful warmth. Summer wasn’t quite on their doorstep, and the cold of the rain had almost cut all the way through him, even with that short exposure. Dean joined him several minutes later with two hot bowls of stew, grinning happily to himself. “You’re lucky I made extra,” he said. “I hope you like turnips, though. They’re basically all I’ve got left in the cellar until we start harvesting again.” “I love turnips,” Castiel answered, smiling. “How are your hops coming along? Will they be okay in all this rain?” “They shot up really nicely, actually. They like a bit of wet, so long as it drains off quickly, and so long as the top layer of soil doesn’t wash away, I think they’re strong enough.” Castiel blew on his soup before he replied. “I’m glad to hear it.” “Trust me, me too. Sam helped out this winter, but this is the first year I’m doing the whole thing myself.” “But you have help, don’t you? Farm hands?” “At harvest time, sure. But once you get the hops twiddled they can manage the rest for themselves.” “You’ll have to show me how to do it,” Cas said, before realizing what he was actually asking. “I mean, I guess what I’m saying is I’d like to spend more time here.” “You’ll be here for the bees though, right?” “I suppose. I mean, I have to check them for invaders, and to make sure that they aren’t building comb in unfortunate places, but in truth, particularly this first year, most hives spend all their time growing, and can be left mostly to their own ends.” “You don’t take any honey?” “A little, perhaps, in the spring. It’s more important to make sure they survive the winter.” “Like my hops,” Dean agreed. “Only I worry about them all summer too, fretting about if it’s going to rain at all, and if it does rain is it gonna rain too much. The apples are happy here, but too little rain and we lose a lot of the yield, too much and the acid content is too high...” Castiel laughed softly, balancing his spoon on the edge of the bowl. “What’s life without a great deal of stress about your livelihood, right?” And yet as Dean nodded agreement, Cas’ mind wandered. He wasn’t taking any personal risks. Even if all of his bees died tomorrow, every colony in every apiary he tended to, he was still a son of the company, protected by the integrity of Shurley Honey and the certainty that while the company rebuilt, even with workers laid off, he alone would be safe and sound. His friends might not be so lucky. The same was true if Cas struck out on his own. The company might struggle with the changes Michael proposed to make, without his own input, and he would have to watch his family business fail, see his friends--family in their own right--lose their jobs. No decision he could make at this point seemed like the right one. Dean, at least, seemed devoted to his own cause, to making his father’s farm work, even if he was the only one left to do it. There was a nobility to that. Castiel just wished he knew how to manage it himself, or where he was even supposed to start, and maybe a little more time in Dean’s company would help him with that decision. Maybe he was fooling himself, but where else was he going to find inspiration? It was worth a try. They made small talk about how hops grew while they ate. It turned out that Dean thought the farm could be a lot more profitable if only he could afford to hire more help, but there was only so much brewing he could do on his own. At last, Dean went to feed Ruby while Castiel busied himself washing their plates, and he cracked open two beers on the way back to the living room just in time to watch all of Ruby’s pint sized family come galloping through the foyer, followed close behind by Dean. “Could you throw the grate up in front of the fire?” Dean asked, and Cas moved quickly to do just that, clicking the grate into place just as a flurry of wet puffballs came rushing up to him on their clumsy paws, yipping and barking. “Just in time,” Dean sighed, as he caught up. “Thanks. I should have done that first. Then again I didn’t realize they were all gonna be soaked, either. Must have left the gate open when I came to find you.” “You were upset, it’s understandable.” “Could you grab the towels, held me dry them off a bit? Ruby’s helping, but…” Cas laughed, gathering the damp towels off the couch and crouching down to grab the first pup he could. She wiggled about in his hands as he tried to dry her off. Ruby wasn’t having any of it either, she’d grabbed one of her puppies with one huge paw, pinning it to the ground while she licked the rain off. “They can stay in here tonight, once I’m sure they’re nice and warm. I found them in the barn, but I don’t know how long they were out in the rain for. We should keep an eye on them just in case. Castiel nodded. The pups didn’t seem to be in distress or shivering. The likelihood was they’d been caught in the first downpour and quickly followed their mom inside. At least they were all accounted for, Cas thought, counting heads. “Have you decided on a name for her yet?” Dean asked, and Cas pulled back the towel in surprise to realize he’d been drying the little black puppy the whole time. She was growling fiercely at him as he rubbed her tummy try, wiggling in her efforts to get back to her siblings. “Oh. No, I’m sorry, I hadn’t really thought about it.” “Well you’ve been busy, right? That’s okay. There’s still time.”

Cas smiled, looking down at the puppy in his hands, just as she managed to wiggle the last few inches to freedom and jump down onto the by now slippery tile floor. “I’ll give it some serious thought,” he agreed, glancing up at Dean as he did. “Promise.” Dean nodded, dropping his last towel dried pup on the floor. By now they’d begun to settle, drawn in by the smell of their mother. She guided them all to a dog bed in the corner, stretching out languidly while they clambered in with her. Dean settled on the couch beside Cas. “It’s going to be hard to let them go, but they’ve all got good homes to go to, you know? People love Ruby.” “She’s a wonderful mother.” “And a great companion. She’s Sam’s dog, really, but Sam thinks she’d hate it in California. She grew up on the farm, it’s really all she knows.” “Sam’s definitely moving then?” “I didn’t tell you? He’s getting married. That’s why we were arguing about the farm. We could just about keep it in profit as we were, but without his help I’m going to have to work twice as hard, and Sam doesn’t think I’ve got it in me.” “You already seem to work quite hard,” Castiel pointed out. “Yeah well. So does everyone, right? So do you? Those bee suits have gotta get pretty hot in the middle of summer.” “Exceptionally,” Castiel laughed. “They get very hot. I can’t imagine why anyone would need a sauna, all they need to do is spend a little time working with me and you get all the desired effects in half the time.” “I thought saunas were a myth,” Dean tutted, stretching out on the couch and languishing. Any further over and he’d have to kick his feet up into Castiel’s lap just to stay comfortable. “Amazing. You wanna get hot and sweaty, there’s loads of jobs around here you can do, right?” They sat in amiable silence for a few moments, but even that was broken--this time by Dean’s wide yawn. “I really am sorry,” Dean said, through his yawn. “I know what it’s like. People have heard about my hops, and since I won’t sell…” Castiel pursed his lips to think about it. “They try to steal your plants?” “You have to understand, it was my dad who started trying to cultivate them. He and I went camping in New Mexico when I was a kid, and he’d bring home plants. Hops are pretty precocious, you know, but the kind they grow all over the world--they all come back to North American wild hops. So we started over. If they could grow in New Mexico, we figured we could help them adapt to growing here.” Dean sounded as passionate about his hops, Castiel thought, as Cas felt about his bees. “It took the better part of a decade just to get something that would survive a year. And then the yield wasn’t great, you know? These hops have a lot of acid, and they’re sort of naturally musty. All the selection for taste they’ve done for centuries--we hadn’t done any of that. So getting to the point where you can dry hop it all on its own…” “Rather than?” “Well the cheating way to do it would be to import mass market hops and blend them.” “And you don’t do that?” “Dad really wanted to put 100% Pure Texan on the outside of the bottle. So that’s what it is.” Dean was sinking back on the couch now, his head hanging, and Castiel pushed himself up off the couch as slowly as he could, so that Dean didn’t startle. “Don’t go, please,” Dean protested. “Please?” “I remember where Sam’s room is,” Cas answered. “Just stay. Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” Dean didn’t stir again, and Cas stoked the fire once more, replacing the grate once he was done. By the time he’d finished fussing, Dean was fast asleep on the couch. Castiel made one last trip back once he’d found Sam’s room, stretching a blanket out on top of Dean and lifting his feet up onto the couch before leaving him under Ruby’s watchful eye. If he thought about kissing him, it was ignored in favor of respecting Dean’s space. He seemed so exhausted--who knew how long he’d been fretting about Castiel’s lost bees? When Cas climbed into Sam’s bed, he found himself drifting to thoughts of staying here with Dean, riding through the orchards, learning to brew beer. He resolved to think of a name for the growly black puppy, just before sleep took him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next morning felt almost like a dream. Castiel stirred to the smell of batter frying, and the gentle hum of the radio. He found Dean in the kitchen brewing coffee into large mugs, plates of waffles already sitting on what looked like an industrial hot plate. The man loved his kitchen, and it showed. Cas padded to the breakfast bar in socked feet and climbed up silently into the tall chair, taking advantage of the chance to watch Dean before Dean realized he was there. Coffee was set aside and Dean had switched on the microwave before he finally noticed Cas’ arrival. “Hey! You like maple syrup, right?” “Of course.” “Cool,” Dean exhaled, relieved. “I just thought maybe you only liked honey, you know?” “So my fondness for bees means I can only like one kind of sweet amber liquid?” Castiel teased. “Well you like beer, but that’s sort of different.” “Sort of,” Cas agreed. The microwave beeped, and Dean fetched the warm maple syrup out of it. The little ceramic pot had a pouring spout and tiny little pine trees handpainted around the outside; it looked like it had been very crudely made by hand. “Did you do this?” “I made it with my mom. She painted the trees, obviously.” “Of course. I did wonder--you lost her when you were both very young?” “Not really breakfast conversation, Cas. But yeah, we did.” Castiel nodded, and gestured to the meal set before him. “This all looks very nice. You’re a real homebody, aren’t you?” “Cooking is just chemistry, and I already do a lot of that in the brewhouse. You get used to it after a while.” Cas, who couldn’t use a spatula to save his life, nodded in understanding, and dug into his waffles eagerly, stopping only to pour more warm maple syrup on and sip at his coffee gratefully. On the road, breakfasts like this were unimaginable, and neither he nor Balthazar were much use when it came to cooking. As a result, it had been a while since Castiel had eaten a waffle made with real eggs, or coffee that had been roasted and ground by hand. He ate in noisy silence, answering Dean’s commentary with eager nods. “I thought after breakfast I’d show you around the brewhouse--that is, if you don’t have anywhere you’ve got to be.” Castiel felt his stomach sink. Dinner with Cain. That was today. “Then maybe we could take the dogs for a short walk in the orchard. They should stay with mom but it would be nice to have someone else they know around to help corral them if they get out of hand.” Cas stopped nodding and swallowed down the mouthful of waffle he’d been working on. “I thought of a name,” he announced. “For the puppy. Since you were quite insistent.” Dean grinned around his own fork, and Cas continued. “I thought maybe Nutmeg, or Meg.” “Not “Nutty”?” Dean asked, once he’d swallowed. “I think Meg’s a cute name. I like it.” Castiel dug back into his breakfast, not wanting to admit how relieved he was that Dean had liked the name. The pit in his stomach had receded. For now, he let himself forget about his impending date with Cain.

The tour of the brewery ended up being more complicated than Castiel expected. Dean took him to one of the old buildings in the courtyard first, which turned out to be hop storage. Six foot high white sacks stood like an army of ancient pottery soldiers, each of them marked with the words “Winchester” and “Texas”, and the studded pattern of a hop cone. Dean explained that the sacks were called “pockets”, but they didn’t look very pocket sized to Castiel. The next building over, an old barn which now featured some rather impressive looking climate control equipment, was filled end to end with steel stacks into which barrels were laid on their sides. Dean explained that this was mostly cider, though he pointed out the whisky barrels stacked up in the corner which contained his microbrew. Castiel followed him out of the barn and across the river, inside what seemed like a truly old part of the house. Behind the crudely built stone walls he could hear the water wheel turning. They emerged into another yard, which was locked off from the main courtyard by a solid oak door. Dean closed it firmly behind them. “Just in case,” he said. “If Ruby or the pups got in here, and somehow got into the trub, eating the spent hops could kill them. We’ve always had dogs, so...” “Prevention is only common sense.” “Right. They don’t go in the hop yard either; it’s locked up tight to keep the deer out anyway, so it’s not a big deal.” There were two newer looking buildings here. Castiel recognized them from above, but the house and a row of big cedar trees kept them concealed for the most part. One building looked like a huge round tower, with a slanted funnel at the top, and Dean grinned. “It’s like a giant kiln. In fact that’s what they call it across the pond. Or an oasthouse. When we harvest the hops go in there, and we dry them all out so they can be stored for longer. We can keep them green for a few weeks at most. Then they go in the pockets and we can use them up the rest of the year.” Without entering the oasthouse, since Castiel presumed it was presently empty Dean waved Cas along to the final building, leading him inside. Dean walked him through the sterilization process, putting on gloves and changing into slightly too large rubber boots. Cas understood, cleanliness was next to godliness, but when it came to producing foodstuffs, keeping a clean room clean meant everything. He’d been through the honey production process often, and it was much the same thing. Inside at last, Castiel’s first impression was that he’d accidentally fallen into an episode of Breaking Bad. There were dozens of steel distillers, all of them in long rows that filled the main room. Dean showed Castiel around, then guided him through to what Cas could only assume was the piece de resistance, an enormous copper brew kettle that sat squat in the center of a room just as large as the one containing the distillers. It gleamed magnificently, and Cas had the feeling that Dean had polished it just for him, given the way the other man just kept looking at him slyly, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression. Cas offered him a soft smile. “It’s beautiful, really. You have a wonderful little business here, Dean. I’d like very much to see how all these things work.” “Next time, maybe?” “Next time,” Castiel agreed, reverently. He meant it. Dean’s passion called to him, and the excitement he had for brewing truly showed. For now, he found himself eager to head back out into the late spring morning before the mercury got too high, this time with Ruby and her puppies scurrying in all sorts of directions. Dean was laughing and light hearted, clearly charmed immensely by Castiel’s delight. The orchards were vibrant, the grass damp underfoot from the rain the previous night, and the puppies were, if anything, even more delighted to be out and about after their ordeal the night before. Yips of glee disturbed the wildlife, but Cas didn’t mind, especially when a sulky barn owl leapt from the tree in which he’d been roosting hidden from sight, and sent the puppies barking at him as he flapped away. Flush with pleasure, Castiel couldn’t help but melt into the freedom of the warm morning too. It let him think about how blessed he was to have a work life which left him in the field so often, that let him work with his bees and not people--not that there was anything wrong with having Dean as company. Castiel wasn’t antisocial, he just loved the world, the breeze through his hair, the life thriving all around him, and he wasn’t shy of hard work, either. Dusting the grass were Texas dandelions in various states of growth. These weren’t the weedy groundhugging dandelions you found north of the border, some of them grew more than a foot high, and they were impossible to ignore, especially when covered with tufted white heads. Carefully, so as not to disturb the plumes, Cas picked one, straightening up and catching Dean’s eye as he did. “Making a wish?” Dean asked, with a laugh. “Do you think it would be so bad if I made two?” “Two might be a bit greedy, you know. We’re so fortunate already. Besides, my dad always said there’s nothing you can’t wish for that you can’t get with just hard work.” Cas licked his lips and nodded. His own father was the same. Even if he was a bit airheaded, and a truly terrible parent figure, he’d had a strong work ethic back in the beginning. So what to wish for? He could deal with Cain on his own terms, even find a way to find a business model he was comfortable with continuing, but there was one thing that the universe would need to make a little effort to help him with. He met Dean’s eyes as he blew--in a single slow careful breath--all the plumes from the head of the dandelion. Unfortunately a strong wind caught them, blowing them all back into his face, and setting Dean off laughing all over again. “I’m guessing that’s not boding well for your wish, huh? Here--” Dean was at his side a moment later, stepping almost too close. Any nearer and their bodies would touch, and Cas would certainly have tripped over a puppy with the haste of it all, his eyes blown wider as Dean reached up as though to cradle the side of his face. To his surprise--which was to say instead of kissing him--Dean plucked a single dandelion plume out of his hair, waving it in front of Castiel’s nose so close that his eyes crossed. “Got it.” Castiel beat back his disappointment, and instead of recoiling, he placed his hand firmly on Dean’s shoulder, so as to hold him in place. “What were you saying a minute ago about not just waiting for the universe to come to you?” Damn it, if Dean wouldn’t kiss him, then Castiel had to. He wasn’t going to give up on this just because he was terrible at making the first move. Someone had to, right? And Dean was right there, picking dandelion fluff out of his hair on a beautiful Texas morning, surrounded by trees and puppies and fresh spring grass. There wasn’t going to be a better moment than this. Castiel closed the distance, pressing his lips against Dean’s, and for a moment he felt the relief of Dean kissing him back… But something was wrong. Dean squirmed out of his grip, pulled away with an expression of open shock dawning on his face, and panic instantly gripped Castiel. “I can’t,” Dean spluttered, shaking his head urgently. “I just--I can’t do this.” As Cas watched, wide eyed, Dean called Ruby and started off down the hill. For a moment Meg stayed behind at Cas’ feet, but she quickly surrendered to the inevitable, rushing to catch up with her family while Castiel stood alone in the orchard, stunned and hurt. The universe had blown the dandelion fluff right back in his face, and with it his wish, that his affection for Dean was reciprocated; that there was something there between them. Now he knew better.   Castiel shuddered as he pushed the door shut behind him with his back. He felt disgusting . He felt as though he were wearing someone else’s skin--apart from his lips, and his hands, and a spot on his back where Cain had curled his fist to hold onto him as he dragged him in for a kiss, and his knee... It had just been a kiss, just a kiss , but Castiel felt violated nonetheless. The date had been awful, Cain had talked about his dead wife and their imaginary future business together for the full two and a half hours, and then he hadn’t driven him straight home, missing his exit on the highway ‘accidentally’. He’d reached across and squeezed Castiel’s knee, and when they’d gotten back to his door, Castiel had let Cain kiss him just because he felt like he should, like he had to, just to get the man to go away safely. Now, with the door shut behind him, the revulsion set in, and yet Cas didn’t dare start to strip off his clothes straight away in case Cain came back. Instead he made tea with shaky hands, then went to the window to check that Cain’s car was gone. It lounged under a streetlight for a few more minutes as Cas’ tea cooled, then smoothly took off without a sound from its electric hybrid motor. Castiel breathed out some of the tension he’d been holding onto. At last, he head for the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. The hot water couldn’t wash the shame away. In fact in many ways it only gave Cas more time to confront his thoughts, how trapped he felt by Cain’s pursuit, and by the situation he was in with Michael. Underneath it all, though, was the terrible emptiness that went hand in hand with Dean’s rejection. Going on this date had only reminded him how terrible it had felt. He’d fallen hard for Dean, he realized that now, and he’d taken that leap, made a go of it, just because Balthazar had told him he was terrible at making the first move. Well, he was damn well never going to do it again, that was for sure. What a fuck up. Toweling off his hair, Cas was pulled up short by the phone ringing. He experienced a rush of trepidation. It could be Cain. It could be Michael . It was pretty unlikely, Castiel considered, that it would be Dean. But it wasn’t like he couldn’t answer the damn phone, right? It was his phone . By the time he’d crossed the room, though, the phone just stopped . Relieved, Cas picked it up and checked the last caller. The number, though, was blocked. Huh. It was a bit late for cold calling. The second he put the phone down, though, his cell phone rang. This time it was Michael. “Castiel. Good, I’m glad I caught you.” Despair rose up in Cas’ chest. Michael rarely called Cas. Usually he communicated with him through Zachariah or Naomi, and it never meant anything good. “Did you just call me?” “No,” Michael answered. There wasn’t any time for Castiel’s hopes to be dashed, though. “No, not at all. But we do need to talk about something. I was hoping you’d come by my office tomorrow.” “I’m busy tomorrow,” Castiel answered, thinking about burying himself on the couch and marathoning The Good Place in an effort to feel better. The date had left him feeling so uncomfortable… “Well I’ll just tell you now, then. Saves us both time, doesn’t it?” Castiel really wished he wouldn’t, but what was he going to say? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d said “no” to Michael; hell, if he ever had. He lifted the phone away from his ear so Michael wouldn’t hear him sigh, then brought it close again. “Go ahead.” “Three things. The expansion you’ve been working on, I’m going to need you to tone it down. Wherever you’re at now, let’s leave it at that. The expansion’s on paper, which is good, but realistically we don’t need to increase our actual yield. It’ll keep the shareholders happy while we make the transition.” Cas lowered himself down into the chair, feeling stunned. All the effort he’d been going to getting new hives out in the world, and it was all just a front to sanitize Michael’s corn syrup plans. “What else?” “Your teams. We want you to fire one of your long term employees. Bart has done the math, filled out the paperwork, and we’ll be replacing them with two interns. They’re free, you know. Well, sort of. Best of all, we don’t have to worry about paying them benefits, medical, retirement and all that.” “Fire one of my… But they’re my employees. You told me that you didn’t want anything to do with the bees. You--you left that at my discretion!” “Don’t be so melodramatic, Castiel. One employee in exchange for two--it’s perfectly reasonable.” “I’ll have to train them!” “That is how interns work, yes. Now about the last thing--” Castiel was too stunned to interrupt. “It’s about Cain. The truth is, he’s been putting off signing this contract with us, and nobody knows why. He was only full of praise for you last time we spoke. I think maybe that’s what this is about. He wants to know that he has you on board. So Castiel, I’m going to need you to take one for the team for us--” All Castiel heard after that was white noise. His heart was racing and he felt lightheaded. How could Michael ask that of him? Did he even realize what he was demanding? No, maybe not. But even if he did, Cas had no doubt that Michael would ask it anyway. With shaking fingers, he  clutched the phone tighter, terrified he was about to drop it. “Fuck you,” he said into the phone. Obviously he didn’t say it loud enough, because Michael said: “I beg your pardon?” Oh no, he had heard it. “ What did you just say to me, Castiel? ” “I said ‘Fuck you.’ That asshole wants me to sleep with him. I’ve done a lot of things for this company I don’t believe in, Michael, but I won’t--I won’t sell my body for the sake of profits, especially when I’m not even sure it’s worth it any more. What you’re doing--I won’t be a part of it any more, do you understand? I’m done with it, Michael. I’m--” “You’re done,” Michael answered, coldly. “Yes, perhaps you are. For now, I think perhaps it’s better you don’t come into work tomorrow. Or, perhaps, for at least the next few weeks. Mark my words, Castiel, if you expect to get anything from me or this company you will rethink your attitude.” “You knew?” Cas spat, horrified. “You knew what he wanted?” “You’re on sabbatical,” Michael dodged the question. “Think hard, Castiel. Think long and hard.” The line went dead. And then the phone went dead. Cas had thrown it at the wall, smashing it into three pieces.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

For the next week, even The Good Place couldn’t cheer Castiel up. In cold fury at the entire sequence of events, he gave up on cheerful comedy and watched reruns of the Saw series instead. The horror left him unable to sleep, which was fine, because every time he got close to sleeping he thought about how furious he was with Michael. His home phone kept on ringing, but he ignored it. Since his cell was broken, he ignored that too. Eventually he did sleep, but it was fitful, and nightmares woke him up, including one terrible one where Michael was an archangel, and he’d possessed Dean, speaking out of his mouth: “You disgust me the way you’re disgusted by Cain.” It was the worst. On Friday night, seven entire days after the terrible phone call, a knock came on his front door. “Castiel? Let me in at once.” Hannah. Cas sighed, looking miserably around at his heaps of twinkie wrappers and empty pizza pocket boxes. Crap. Hannah was going to be so angry with him. “Just a second!” he called out. “Let me in, Castiel. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Cas scrambled to shove packaging in the overflowing bin.“No, it’s just--!” “Let me in!” Reluctantly, he made his way to the door and opened it. Hannah was looking at him sternly, but Cas could see pity in her blue eyes as well. She studiously avoided looking around the room. “You look awful,” she said, instead. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Cas stepped back, and Hannah cautiously moved inside. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be here. The way you were talking about your farmer, I thought you’d have skipped out on us the second Michael sent you home. None of us knew where he lived, so we sort of...” “Left me to it?” Castiel asked, forlornly. Hannah’s stern demeanor melted away. “What happened with Dean?” Cas shook his head, heading back to the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Hannah made her way over to sit beside him, waiting patiently as Cas moved three remotes and his abandoned shoes off the cushion. She looked at him expectantly until he broke. “I kissed him and he freaked out.” Hannah was silent. She was fiddling with the hem of her coat, and then, at last, she said: “You know I always had a huge crush on you, don’t you? The passion that you have for your bees, your kindness and patience with others. You are perhaps the most perfect man I know, Castiel, and you are perfect so easily. You don’t even have to try to be the best version of yourself that you can be; you just are. Other people can tell. Sometimes they take advantage of that. “But it also means that you never take care of yourself, because you’re too busy taking care of others first. You never want anything that isn’t wanted for the sake of someone else. And when you spoke about Dean… I was jealous.” “You were necking with Gadreel at the time,” Cas recalled. “Hey, I can multitask. Pass me a twinkie.” As if to prove just how good at multitasking she was, Hannah continued to speak between nibbles. She ate ridiculously, it was something that Cas found endlessly endearing. “I couldn’t believe you’d found someone who was so good for you. Just… I mean, think about it, Cas. You were so happy that night. How did you feel, right before you kissed him?” “Like nothing could go wrong. Like the world had… Like it couldn’t be a more perfect moment in time.” “Do you really think it’s possible to have that with someone who doesn’t feel the same way?” Cas hesitated, and Hannah kept pushing. “Did he kiss you back?” “I think so,” Cas answered, once he’d thought about it for a moment longer. At once, Hannah smacked him on the arm. “What?” “You idiot! You haven’t been answering your phone all week!” Cas shook his head, wringing his hands around an empty hot pocket wrapper. “What does that have to do with it?” “Because if he’s as much of an idiot as you are, he probably just needed five minutes to get used to the idea.” Castiel worried his lip, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” “Ugh.” Hannah grunted. “Look. I’m going to come back in the morning and drive you down there, okay? No! No questions. You can make some excuse about checking on your bees.” “I do have to check on them,” Cas admitted. “We didn’t have any time last week. Not before… before everything went wrong.” “Right. Well then it’s not just an excuse, is it? They’re your bees, you have to look after them.” “Even though I’m on sabbatical?” “Can you really go on sabbatical from beekeeping?” Hannah asked, frowning. “It’s not like the bees know. And what Michael doesn’t know won’t hurt him either.” “What if Dean isn’t happy to see me?” “I’ll be there too. Like a chaperone.” Castiel hesitated. Something was bothering him about this. At last he said: “But don’t you have work?” Hannah blinked in confusion. “Oh? No, I guess you wouldn’t know. Michael said one of the team had to go. He left it up to us who, and I volunteered.” “Hannah--” “No, Castiel. It’s fine. Really, I… I mean, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do next, but…” Cas shook his head, the fury building like a stormcloud in his chest again. Michael. That asshole . How could he treat his employees like that? Castiel’s friends ? “So you’re going to do this as a parting favor for me, okay? You should be happy, Castiel. Dean makes you happy.” Another apology hovered on Cas’ lips, but Hannah clapped him on the shoulders and chased it away with a soft smile. “Now, no offense, but you stink. Go have a shower and get some sleep. I’ll come by first thing in the morning.” Castiel couldn’t really argue with that. He did stink, and a shower would be wonderful. He might even sleep in his own bed tonight. Not well, no. Dreams of what might happen when he spoke to Dean put paid to the idea of a restful night’s sleep, offering only worst case scenarios where Dean threw whole hives full of bees right at Cas’ face. Covered in bees seemed like an awful way to die, quite honestly.

Hannah woke him bright and early the next morning. Cas wasn’t dressed, standing by his wardrobe and struggling with what he should wear. It stood to reason he should wear something practical, of course, and most of his clothes were practical, but he couldn’t shake off the desire to make a good impression, either. Stupid. It wasn’t like it was a date. Sighing, Cas abandoned the hunt and head for the door, blinking sleepily at Hannah as he opened it. She seemed as spotlessly put together as usual, a messenger bag slung over her slender shoulder. Her eyes dragged down as a matter of instinct when Castiel swung the door open. Resisting any urge to feel shy, Cas stepped back, opening the door wide for her to come in. “Sorry. I was just trying to pick out a shirt.” Hannah snorted. “Let me guess, you couldn’t decide on one?” “I’m not a thirteen year old girl.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “You think only teenage girls get nervous before they go on a date? Tell me you’ve at least narrowed it down.” Three minutes later, Hannah had picked out a crisp white shirt that Cas hadn’t worn for years, and she insisted on giving it a fresh iron before Cas put it on. It was pleasantly warm and smelled pleasantly neutral; essential when one worked with bees. Strong perfumes had a way of irritating them, and it was a damn good way to get stung. “There. You look great. Go on, go grab your things, I’ll put the rest of this away.” Cas muttered his thanks, then head out into the main room to find his phone and keys, moving automatically. His phone, though, looked back up at him with its broken screen, mocking him for his fury. “Do you have an old one?” Hannah asked, reappearing in the bedroom doorway. “You should change it. I’m just going to use the restroom before we go.” Castiel occupied himself with digging out his old phone and charger while Hannah was out of the room. He’s just managed to find a power bank when she reemerged. “You ready to go?” he asked. “I am. Are you?” As an honest answer to her question, the truth was that Castiel wasn’t sure. He couldn’t even remember how Hannah had dragged him into this, though he knew he owed it to her. She’d lost her job because he hadn’t been there to protect her from Michael. Still, it seemed just… so meddlesome. She didn’t know anything more about Dean than what Castiel had told her. Then again, if anyone had been meddlesome, Cas had. He’d interfered time and time again between her and Gadreel. Maybe that was what she was really getting him back for; and if so, was it well meant or vindictive? No, not vindictive. There wasn’t a vindictive bone in Hannah’s body. Or Gadreel’s, for that matter. He couldn’t help but play along, no matter where this led. After all, it was just a visit, right? The worst that could happen was that Dean could be so disgusted with what had happened that he’d trashed all the hives, and he’d chase Cas back out of his valley with a shotgun the moment he saw him. Except that couldn’t have happened because Dean wasn’t like that, right? He wasn’t a monster. He liked the bees. What had happened between them… it had just been a misunderstanding. Deep breath. “I’m fine. Let’s go, shall we, before I change my mind?” Castiel only managed to avoid voicing his breakdown in the car by digging his fingers hard into his thighs. Fortunately Hannah didn’t notice, she was too busy driving. When they eventually started down the long gravel road toward the Winchester’s valley, Hannah started up conversation again. “It’s beautiful here. Really beautiful. I can see why you were so drawn to it. Look at this place.” “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Cas said under his breath, before offering a more affirmative answer. “I saw two deer fighting just here on the road, the first time I drove along here.” “I believe it,” Hannah said. “It’s beautiful. How far is the border from here?” “Chihuahua is about 60 miles away. Why, you thinking of running for it?” Hannah laughed. “Maybe. No, not really. I’m a city girl, I can’t help it. Maybe if Gadreel wanted to be out here, but...” “Did I hear that right?” Cas asked, taking advantage of the opportunity to shift the conversation. “You’re serious enough with Gadreel that you’d consider moving away with him? That’s a big leap, isn’t it?” “Sometimes you have to take a leap, Cas. Like you and Dean. We’re a long way away from your family here as well.” “The further the better,” Cas muttered. His voice stuttered back to life, though, in a harsh whisper. “Stop the car!” Hannah put her foot on the brake and they crunched to an abrupt stop. Cas didn’t care. He was looking at the fork in the road ahead, where the bend led down to Dean’s property. There, sitting in the middle of the path in the midday sun as though waiting for them, was an enormous cougar. She regarded them with her huge green eye, flicking an ear away only when a blackbird startled out of the nearby field of grass. “Do we…? Do we keep going?” Hannah asked under her breath. “No,” Cas answered. “Just cut the engine. We’ve been given a chance to admire her, so it’s the least that we can do.” “Right.”  They sat quietly together while the cougar sunned herself in the middle of the road. At long last, after licking her paw for ten straight minutes, she stood up, stretched, and lumbered away, exposing the drop of her pregnant belly. “Wow,” Hannah said, as the mountain lion vanished into the brush from whence the blackbird had emerged. “That was definitely something.” Castiel agreed. It had felt like a sign. He only wished he’d snapped a photo for Dean. They started up again, pulled up to the turn where the cougar had sat, then turned, climbing the small incline over the brow of the hill. When the valley appeared below them, Hannah inhaled audibly. “I know,” was all Castiel said. They descended in the space left by her awed silence. The house was just as idyllic, just as gorgeous. It was like a dream, no less this time than any other time that Cas had visited. He only wished that the moment they turned down the road, his trepidation hadn’t taken root, of what would happen when he was reunited with Dean. The thought terrified him. He shouldn’t just have shown up. He should have called ahead. What was he thinking? They rumbled persistently right down to the bottom of the hill, turned and crossed the narrow bridge, and pulled into the neat little courtyard. Sam’s big SUV was parked in the middle, and they edged around it, parking up in the shade. Sam emerged a moment later, blinking into the sunshine and followed by puppies. Even though just a week had passed, they were looking much stronger now, boldly spreading out in every direction. There was no sign of Dean, but a blonde woman emerged from inside just a moment later. She was slender, and pretty, and Cas’ jealousy flared up at once. “Hey,” Sam called. “Oh. Oh my God, you’re Castiel, right? The honey guy? Jess? This is Castiel.” “I heard you the first time, Sam. Castiel. Cas, right? Dean won’t shut up about you.” Sam was rolling his eyes and smiling, while Cas was racking his brain for where he’d heard the name Jess before. Wait, she was… Sam’s fiancee, right? Whole heaps of relief set in at the realization. “It’s nice to meet you,” Castiel offered, along with his hand. “This is Hannah.” “Hannah,” Sam said, offering her his hand in turn. “Nice to meet you.” Briefly, Castiel wondered if Sam and Jess thought he was romantically involved with Hannah, but fortunately it seemed that they either didn’t, or were too polite to suggest it out loud. For that, Castiel was grateful; he always thought it was terribly rude when people made assumptions about the relationships of strangers. “We were looking for Dean,” Hannah said. “So were we,” Sam answered. “He must be up at Fort Davis. That’s where the feed store is. Oh and...” Sam and Jess caught each other’s gaze and held it for a split second, and Castiel witnessed understanding pass between them. “You’re right,” Jess said, “He could be a while.” “Why?” Cas asked, uncertain that he wanted to know the answer. “The cowboy apparel store,” Jess explained, through her giggles. Castiel blinked in confusion while Hannah, beside him, burst out laughing. “I don’t understand.” “Dean has a cowboy fetish,” Sam went on. “Hats and chaps and pistols at dawn, the whole thing.” Cas’ mind went back to the ride through the orchards, and he blushed. “We were just going to raid the back room, grab a drink and sit in and wait for him,” Jess said. “But maybe Sam can whip up something to eat. Dean makes this wicked fruit pie--they keep dozens of them in the freezer--so all he needs to do is put it in the oven. Trust me, you don’t want Sam making anything more complicated than a salad, otherwise, but there’s enough of us for pie.” Hannah looked like she was about to make her excuses, so Cas grabbed her by the arm. If he was left alone with Dean’s brother and his fiancee, things were certain to turn awkward. “What sort of pie?” Hannah asked, instead. “Apple, of course,” Castiel answered, before the others could. “This is an apple orchard, after all.” “Sounds great. So what about some of this famous, magical Texan beer to wash it down with?” The pie took longer than Cas expected to come, which meant playing the offensive with Sam and Jess, asking them about their life in California so that they didn’t ask too many questions of him. Dean showed up just as they were eating the last few bites of pie, the empty silver tray they’d left behind mocking the late arrival. “ Hey!” Dean said, striding up onto the deck behind Cas. “You ate all the pie without me? How could you?” He seemed to recognize Castiel only after he’d seized Sam into a big hug, faltering and staring at him for long seconds while Jess hovered, waiting impatiently for her hug. Dean, remembering himself, went in for a quick snuggle, then ducked back, blinking wildly at Cas. “Hey… Castiel. Um. Didn’t recognize the car. Where’s your pimpmobile?” “Hannah drove me,” Castiel answered. “Hannah, this is Dean.” Briefly, the same look of jealousy that Cas had felt cross his own face when he’d met Jess, crossed Dean’s face instead. It was like a shock of cold water. Even Sam was looking awkward, because of course he had no idea whether Cas was dating Hannah either. “Dean,” Hannah was saying. “Heard a lot about you.” Castiel decided to take the pressure off. “We aren’t an item. Hannah works with me--she used to work with me. She takes care of the bees. She’s the one who packs the hives for transport when they’re back at home base, and she looks after disease control programs and splitting hives, all the kind of stuff we can’t do without.” “Except his brother just fired me,” Hannah sighed. “What an asshole,” Dean said, but the relief in his expression was self evident, really. He was glad Cas and Hannah weren’t together, and that was enough to plant just a seed of hope in Castiel’s chest. “I should… go and check on the hives,” Castiel announced, at last, standing up. “Hannah?” Hannah seemed startled. “Um. No, I can’t. I ate too much, I’m feeling sort of weird.” “I can come?” Dean asked. “I want to.” Cas hadn’t expected him to be so eager, but he nodded slowly in agreement, the seed of hope swelling. “And you can tell him about the cougar,” Hannah pressed, almost shooing Cas off the deck. Back in the courtyard, Dean stopped to check in on the puppies. Sam had put them all away back in the barn, and they had exhausted themselves yipping and barking and were taking a nap together in a pile. Their mom was laying on top of the tractor, and she wagged her tail sleepily when she saw Dean. “She goes up there to get away from them. I’m pretty sure she can’t wait to get rid of them, now.” “They all have homes?” Castiel asked, barely daring to breathe too loud for fear of disturbing the odd cameraderie he had with Dean. “All except for Meg,” Dean answered, his voice going soft as he ducked his chin below his shoulder. Castiel turned to hunt for an explanation, trying to search his face, but Dean’s head was already ducked all the way down, and Cas couldn’t catch his eye. “Is there… Is there something wrong with Meg? Why doesn’t anyone want her?” “It’s not that nobody wants her,” Dean told his shoes instead of Cas. “It’s… She’s… I couldn’t sell her.” Cas was quiet, not sure what to say. “She’s yours, Cas. She picked you. I couldn’t… I just couldn’t let anyone have her. When people came round to pick their puppies, I didn’t even let her out. It made her cry. But I couldn’t let anyone take her away just in case…” “In case what?” Castiel asked, trepidation catching his words. Dean said nothing this time, and next thing Cas knew he was opening the barn door again to the bright Texas sunlight. “Come on. We’ll take the ATV.” “Not the horses?” “It’s past twelve, so it’s already pretty hot.” Castiel nodded, slowly. “Makes sense. Okay. I’ll grab my things.” If he had only known that riding the ATV up to the bees meant sitting snug against Dean’s back clinging onto him for dear life, he might have insisted on driving the car up. It was hard not to want to press his nose right into the back of Dean’s neck, and as much a relief as a deep regret when they separated outside the little storehouse, Castiel climbing awkwardly off the back of the ATV behind Dean. But Cas had stopped worrying about how awkward the ride had been almost the moment the machine cut off, because there were bees everywhere . Concern immediately set in. Had the cougar been here? Was that why she’d been sitting so smugly up on the road? No, the electric fence seemed to be in place… “Uh, Cas…” Castiel turned back toward Dean, only to see a honeybee had landed right on his mouth. It would be an uncomfortable place to get a sting. “Relax. I’ve got him.” Gently, Castiel reached in and, placing his fingers around the bee, simply lifted him from Dean’s face like he was picking a pea off a plate. When he let go, the bee buzzed away. “That… was amazing. But maybe I should get out of here while they’re buzzing around like this? They seem pretty pissed off.” Cas shook his head. “They’re scouting, that’s all. Look.” Pointing up to the rafters of the little building, Castiel pointed out the bees. “You see the way they’re flying up and down, up and down like that? They’re scouting. They’re looking for a place to crawl in and nest. I can’t believe any of the hives have split, though, they had plenty of room to grow into.” “Split? Like the colony in the tree?” “That’s right. When colonies get too big for their living space, they split up, and they follow a new queen to make a new colony somewhere. We can force them to split by limiting their space, or give them more room to grow into so that they spread out into it instead, but a lot of what we do as beekeepers is try and stop our bees flying off and making new colonies when they should only be growing in strength.” Another bee flew toward Dean’s face, changing course only at the last second. “You can wear my gear, since you’re nervous,” Cas said. “I often don’t need them, and really they’re even much more placid when they’re swarming.” “Placid,” Dean repeated, disbelievingly, taking the white jacket from Castiel. The sleeves were tight, to keep the bees out, and Cas forced Dean to put on his gloves as well, even though Dean made an effort to resist.. “Look, I’ll wear the jacket cause you’ve got clothes on, but I can’t take your gloves. I’ll just shove my hands in my pockets or something.” “It’s really fine, Dean. I do this all the time.” Cas answered. “Now the hat.” When Dean was protected, hands in pockets, Castiel led the way around the edge of the cabin. It didn’t take long to work out what was going on with the bees. There was a writhing black blob of buzzing bees suspended under the crook of one of the low hanging apple tree branches. Castiel checked on each of the hives, making sure everyone was home, then turned to look back at Dean. “It’s possible that these are our bees,” he said, thoughtfully. “You know… If the people who stole our bees didn’t carry them off far enough the first night, they would have just come back here the very next day. After the rain, of course. It’s quite unusual for them to stay out here in the open like this, especially considering we baited the brood box by the tree. You’d think they’d have moved in there.” “There’s bees in there, though.” Cas blinked, and hurried over to take a look, squinting at the bees in the nest. “And look. That streak of red there, above their wings. Those are the same as the bees I brought here. Your tree bees are almost black.” “What does that mean?” Dean asked, warily. “These are the stolen bees as well. The swarm in the tree is from one of the colonies, and this is the other. They both came home.” “Well… What are we going to do now?” Dean asked, glancing up at the tree. “There’s the experimental hive that Gadreel made for me,” Castiel said, thoughtfully, glancing over to where he and Dean had propped the empty top bar hive when they’d unpacked it. “We can catch the bees, drop them in…” “Woah. Catch them? Like a ball?” “A little like that, yes.” “Are you sure? I mean--are you sure you don’t want your gloves back?” Castiel chuckled, then waved to Dean. “Help me with the hive. We’ll move it right over under the tree, first.” Working together, Dean and Cas carried the big, empty top bar hive over, setting it up almost directly under the bees. “So what I’m going to do is climb up and just knock the whole cluster down off the branch.” “You’re going to drop them? Is that okay? Won’t you hurt them?” “They’ll be fine. They’re really quite tough, Dean, and besides, it isn’t that far to fall for a bee.” Dean shook his head, stunned. “They’re going to startle and fly up and buzz round a little bit when they get knocked over. You’re well protected, so it’s important that you stay calm and help me back down.” Dean nodded obediently. The real test would come when there were bees everywhere, though. Castiel climbed up on top of the top bar hive. It held his weight nicely, which wasn’t unexpected, since full it would hold more than 50 kilos of honey, wax and bees. Crouching, he was nose to swarm with the bees, all of them calm, vibrating rigorously to keep the colony warm. “You’ll have a nice new home now,” Cas told them. “There’s no need to worry.” If Dean had questions about him talking to the bees, he didn’t voice them. Instead, Dean was almost deathly silent as Castiel put his hands right up into the bees, slowly carding his fingers through their wriggling, vibrating bodies, until enough of them had stopped holding onto each other that the huge weight of the swarm, probably four or five pounds of bees, simply fell off the branch as a lump, and down into the well of the top bar hive open underneath them. Bees scattered in every direction, and Dean stayed bravely still, waiting as Cas brushed the last of the bees off the branch, shook it as best he could to dislodge the last of the bees, and took Dean’s hand to be helped down to the ground. “You’re covered in bees,” Dean pointed out, and Cas grinned. “Hazard of the job.” “They haven’t stung you?” “Not yet,” Cas answered. “But you shouldn’t say things like that. You’ll jinx it.” Dean nodded slowly, understanding dawning over his expression. He was still looking at Cas like he was witnessing Spider-Man slinging web in front of him, like he was in the presence of some kind of superhero or even a pagan god of bees. “Okay. Shall we cover them up? Then we should feed them. They’ve been out here for a while, they’re probably hungry.” “Sure,” Dean nodded. “Feed them?” “I dumped a crate of syrup here when we delivered the hives. They’ll be grateful. Usually I’d stick a frame of brood in here to convince them to stay, but these are the wrong style of frames. So either they’ll stay or they won’t.” “I’m sure they’ll stay,” Dean said. “They have such a great new home.” Cas nodded. “I think so too. Let’s give them every reason to, though, shall we? I’ll go get the feeder. Ah! And lemongrass oil!” He hurried away, excited, and Dean hung back, watching him. Cas could feel the other man’s eyes on him even with his back turned. When the hive was covered and tucked away with their dinner, Castiel checked each of the other boxes, making sure that everything was developing nicely. He showed Dean the drones and the workers, pointed out each of the queens as he found them, and showed him where the new brood was being developed, baby bees growing in the cells, ready to become whatever nature needed them to be. The buzzing had returned to something happy and productive by the time Cas was satisfied that all the hives were doing well, and Dean was even smiling behind his net. He’d asked about taking it off, but Castiel had told him, quite confidently, that it would be something better left until next time. There was no rush. They head back down on the ATV together, once they’d brushed all the bees off each other, smiling shyly and trying not to look into each other’s eyes the entire time. It felt almost as light and easy as the day in the orchard. If he kissed Dean now, would the same thing happen? Would Dean turn away from him? They really ought to talk about last time, though. What had happened, really? Because Cas was getting all kinds of mixed feelings, now. Dean seemed to like him; seemed to truly like him. So why had he walked away? Cas tried his best not to snuggle into Dean’s neck all the way back to the house. But it was downhill, so could he help it if he let his weight fall against Dean’s back; if he held onto him just a little bit tighter? When they pulled back into the yard, Sam was outside working with the horses, steering a blacksmith’s stand away on its rollers, and lowering Max’s foot back onto the floor. “How’d it go?” Dean was grinning, making room for Cas to climb reluctantly down from the ATV. “We caught a swarm.” “Is that right? That’s awesome.” “Where’s Jess? You should have seen Cas, man, he just went right up there and put his bare hands in the bees like--” Dean gestured taking handfuls of bees. “And he’s like a ninja, you know, he just reaches in and grabs them.” “You told me about it last time,” Sam said, tiredly. “For hours.” Both Cas and Dean found themselves blushing this time. “Jess is in the house,” Sam went on. “She’s just finishing things up, and we’re gonna get out of here. We want to get out to Arizona by bedtime, drop in on Bobby for lunch.” Dean looked crestfallen. “You’re leaving already? I barely even saw you.” “Have you ever thought about driving up to see us if you want to see us so badly? You could bring Castiel.” Cas could only guess at what Sam was implying, but the mention of driving brought him back to the present, and the complete absence of Hannah’s sedan. He looked around for it anyway, even though the courtyard was completely enclosed and it obviously wasn’t hiding behind the horses. “My friend, Hannah. Did she… Did she leave?” “She said she had an errand to run, and you should call her. Left a bag for you, though.” “A bag?” Castiel headed inside, the sound of the brothers’ conversation fading behind him: “He’s really cute, you know, and Jess super likes him.” “You shut your face.” Hannah’s satchel was waiting just inside the door, and Castiel crouched down, propping it open on the floor to blink at its contents. Two of his other shirts were in there, as well as a couple of pairs of underwear, his toothpaste, and some socks. Hannah had packed him an overnight bag. No extra pairs of pants, of course, but she would have had a hard time sneaking those past him. He called her up, and was less than surprised when she answered the phone from the car. “You’re dumping me here?” he accused. “Less dumped, more… I can’t think of a better word, actually. Yeah, I dumped you there. You and Dean make a great couple, and besides after you set me up with Gadreel you basically did this to yourself.” “But you don’t know--you don’t even know if he likes me. We had a fight last time I was here, and he’s a stranger, really. I can’t presume upon him like this.” “Sam told me it was okay. He said he’d smooth it over with Dean, and just between us, but the way I hear it your cute little apple farmer has been brooding over you all week. When he couldn’t get through to you, he rang up Sam instead. That’s why they came down to see him; he was talking about selling the farm and stuff, and Sam realized he needed to step in and fix things.” Castiel was stunned into silence on his end of the phone. “Then we showed up. Happy accident, really. I was going to feed you some excuse about visiting a made up relative, but this way it’s even better.” “Hannah…” “You’re welcome, Cas.” “I wasn’t going to thank you!” “Yeah, well, you should . Benjamin should be down next week, anyway, to pick you up. He’s coming out that way to check on some of the other hives you installed.” “Okay. Wait-- wait . Hannah there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about your job, about Shurley Honey…” “It can wait,” Hannah sighed. “Whatever it is, you can tell me about it tomorrow, okay? Just relax. Bask in it. And if it all goes pear shaped you can go park yourself up where the cougar was, and I’ll come and rescue you.” “You want me to be eaten by a cougar? That’s your escape plan?” “You won’t need it, Castiel. Stop worrying and go and kiss your boyfriend.” “He’s not my--” Hannah had hung up. Jess called to him from the kitchen, drying her hands on a cloth. “So do you have everything under control here? It was a long drive, and Sam and I have to get back. We were going to stay the week, but if we hurry back, we can still make our lectures on Monday.” Cas closed the bag and straightened back up. “You missed classes for this?” “Dean’s like a brother to me, and Sam’s--he is Sam’s brother. That’s what siblings do for each other, right?” Castiel hesitated, searching his memory for any moment where any of his own brothers would have ever done that for him. He came up short, shaking his head. “Not in my experience. But I can tell they’re very close. It must be hard for Sam to live so far away.” “Stanford is a long way. I think we should move down to San Jose once we’re married, you know, to cut down on the drive a little bit, but Sam had this idea that Dean would sell the house, and sell his hops and make a fortune. They’re pretty special, you know. The big hop growers are always looking for a way to cultivate hops in Texas, but the plants they have don’t like it here. Dean’s are great. They’re the answer, you know? But he won’t give them up cause they remind him of the good times with his dad.” Castiel nodded, remembering Dean’s passion for his hops, back when they’d spoken about them over soup. “He doesn’t want to give up everything he’s known,” Cas told her. “I understand that too well myself. It’s safe.” “You too? Well I guess you would be. Moving out here would be asking a lot. Sam always talks about how isolating it was...” “Dean and I aren’t… We aren’t together.” “I know,” Jess said, crossing the room toward him. “But you should be. You’d be good for each other.” Jess threw her arms around Cas and gave him an energetic hug, then dropped back only to dazzle him with a huge smile. “I only needed to talk to you for an hour to fall in love with you, okay? It took me a lot longer with Dean, mostly because he’s a huge lech. You’re a sweetie, though. You’re going to be great together.” Cas shook his head, stunned, but he didn’t have a reply for any of that, and Jess was already sliding away, grabbing for her coat from the hook and then taking down Sam’s as well. “Take care,” Castiel called, and Jess offered another kind smile, and a wink, and said “Good luck,” before ducking out the door. Castiel followed, if only to shake Sam’s hand before the couple left, and at last he was left in the courtyard with Dean, a silence falling between them. Dean broke it. “Why don’t you head in and, um, get comfortable? I’m going to put the horses away. Gonna have to feed everyone later, but--” “It’s fine,” Castiel said. “We can do that together. I’d like to help.” Dean swallowed, but assented, and Cas head back into the house to be alone with his thoughts. So alone, in fact, that he startled when his phone rang. It was Cain, so Castiel switched it off. He just needed time to think. This was all coming at him so fast. Jess had basically ordered him to move in, and both Sam and Hannah had conspired to lock them into this real life parody of a romcom so that they’d get together. But they were human beings. The situation with Dean was much too complicated for that. So complicated that Castiel barely had time to get out of his seat when Dean came in, strode across the living room purposefully, and crushed Cas in a kiss so immediate and so breathtaking that it almost made him fall back down again the moment it ended. He hadn’t had time to kiss back, but for Dean, it didn’t seem to matter. He’d made his point, and he turned and marched away toward the kitchen, leaving Castiel rocking on his heels, unsure whether to follow or stay exactly where he was. In the end, he had to imagine that it had taken some courage to kiss him like that, and he padded into the kitchen in his socks, staring after Dean who was blinking blindly into the freezer as though he couldn’t identify any of the items inside it. Cas knew that they were as close to quantifying the effect of the kiss as each other at this point. Dean was shellshocked and he’d been the one doing the kissing! Cas smiled down at his own feet. “So, what’s for dinner?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They ate without mentioning the kiss again; or rather, they ate without mentioning either kiss, but even though they spoke about Castiel’s forced sabbatical, bees and cowboys--the latter for almost an entire hour--it was their eyes that did most of the talking about subjects that mattered. They kept glancing at each other, averting their gazes, looking again when they thought the other might be looking away. It was like a dance, or a mating ritual, and it was relentless. At last, Cas sat bolt upright in his chair and said, “Damn, Hannah said she might call” and he turned his phone back on. Not more than three minutes later, it rang. But it wasn’t Hannah. It was Cain. Again. This time, though, Castiel had made his mind up. He knew exactly what he was going to say, and he answered the call, waving a hand for Dean to keep quiet while he pressed it to his ear. “Yes, hello? Castiel?” Cain’s voice was honeyed, but Castiel could hear the bristle of irritation under the surface, the temper of a man who was barely holding it together. It made him feel almost sick to think he’d let Cain touch him, even kiss him, and Castiel had to remind himself that he’d done that because it was necessary. Now, confronted with Cain’s restrained fury, he comforted himself that he’d made the right choice. Who knew what violence this man might have turned to if he’d been rejected on the spot? It was a terrible world where people had to endure others abusing their boundaries on a whim, but when people like Cain were so easily angered, Cas reminded himself, what was the alternative? It wasn’t Castiel’s fault. Now, though, with the strength of hope buoying him, Dean’s kiss still tingling pleasantly on his lips, Castiel felt ready to take on the world. “I’ve been thinking about your offer,” Cas said, clearly. “Is that why I couldn’t get you on the phone? If we’re going to go into business together, I find that incredibly unprofessional. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve called you?” “My phone was broken,” Cas answered, and when Cain began to speak again, Castiel said, “Would you shut up for just a second? Thank you.” It was stunned rather than obedient silence, but it would do. “I’ve decided I’m not interested in your offer. Or you, actually. You? And Michael? You can go fuck yourselves.” The words vibrated in the air once he’d said them. On the other side of the table, Dean’s jaw had dropped, and he was staring at Cas with a forkful of apple pie halfway to his mouth. “Is there anything else?” “What did you tell me to do?” Cain started to say, but whatever else was on his mind, he didn’t get it out before Castiel hung up on him. Thirty seconds later, Castiel had done what he should have done in the first place, blocked the guy’s number, and tossed the phone down on the table. “What was that about?” Dean asked. “What offer?” “Cain wanted me to ditch my family’s company, trade out with assets and merge my shares with him. Uh--he wanted the hives, mostly, and my expertise and connections, that sort of thing.” “I know the type,” Dean said. “Had a few sharks hanging round here as well. So you’re sticking with the company? That’s great.” “No,” Castiel said, slowly. “No. My brother’s going to be furious when Cain pulls out of the deal, and he’s going to blame me for it. So when he calls, I’m going to tell him how I feel about it, and if he wants me to keep quiet about his plan to adulterate the honey, he can buy out my shares, and trade in some of them for our Texas hives. There’s…” Cas took a deep breath. “There will be a lot to arrange, I’ll have to find storage and a place to live, but there’s no reason why I can’t do this on my own.” “Not on your own,” Dean said, and then he blushed when he realized what he’d accidentally implied. “I mean, your friend Hannah needs a job too, right? And you like some of the people you work with. Maybe they’d leave with you.” “I… I don’t know, Dean.” “I could help,” Dean said. “I know a lot about running a business, paying employees. And you can set up here until you get settled.” “Dean I… I wouldn’t want to impose.” “You wouldn’t be.” “Then I don’t know what to say.” “Say ‘yes,’” Dean pressed. “You just say ‘yes.’ Besides it… it means I get to see you more often, maybe even all the time, and I can’t think of anything better. It’s what I want, Cas. I want you . Please?” There was only one thing that Cas could say to a request like that. He said, “Yes.” By the time Castiel, exhausted, had gotten off the phone to Michael and Hannah, they’d moved from the kitchen to the living room. Dean had made hot chocolate, the washing up was done and the horses, puppies and cow were all fed. Castiel sat, stunned and terrified, shell shocked even, with his hands wrapped around the hot cup, sipping from it periodically, and Dean was watching him bemused from further along the couch, occasionally drinking from his own mug. The silence was nice; not deafening, not scary; just nice . Castiel was relieved to have a moment to rearrange his thoughts. When he put his cup down, Dean reached out to take his hand, winding their fingers together and trapping the residual warmth between their palms. “Hey. You okay?” Castiel considered the question only for as long as he needed to. It seemed like he’d been fighting through his life forever, and while he wouldn’t say that he had a bad life, his bees had always been the highlight. It felt somehow different now, like it might be possible to control the other aspects of his life, and therefore make them work for him. His social life, for one thing. He’d been social with people from work, and now as it turned out they loved him even when the job wasn’t a part of it. Texts from Ben, Gadreel and Balthazar had already landed on his phone, telling him that they were just waiting on his word; none of them much wanted to work for Michael without him, it turned out. “Actually, for the first time in a while I think I am,” Castiel answered, thoughtfully. “And you… You were a real surprise. I was so sure that you…” “That I wasn’t into you?” Dean bridged, hesitantly. “Listen, I totally get it. By the time I got over myself you’d already left, and then you wouldn’t answer the phone. I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where you lived, either, and I’d forgotten the name of your Dad’s business. I tried everything. I called up all these places asking if someone called Castiel worked there. They thought I was prank calling.” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “By the time you got over yourself?” “Honestly? It’s been a long time since I kissed a guy. Last time was back in high school, and I freaked out thinking about bringing him home to Dad. I still… You wouldn’t believe how much of his commentary I’ve internalized, you know? It’s almost like I hear his voice telling me I shouldn’t do this or that. Asshole left years ago and I still haven’t gotten over it.” Castiel cleared his throat. “He has another family? Sorry, I heard a rumor in town...” Dean was nodding though, looking off at the opposite wall. When he glanced back at Cas, a wry smile was pressed to his lips. “It’s like our dirty secret. But it’s stupid, cause everyone and their granny three states over know about it.” “When something feels like it should be a secret, it’s hard to admit that it isn’t. Like my father. We say he’s dead, but…” “But what?” “He just disappeared, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have wanderlust. We ended up having to declare him dead in absentia. That’s when you don’t have a body. For all any of us know he went to live with the Sherpa in Nepal. That would be just like him.” “So we both have deadbeat dads.” Cas smiled, tipping his head toward Dean in order to peer up into his eyes. “What would your dad say if I kissed you right now?” Dean smiled slowly, lifting his hand away from where it had curled over the top of their combined fingers to instead trace his fingers against Castiel’s cheek. “I don’t really care what he thinks,” Dean purred. “What about you?” “Not at all,” Cas answered, closing the distance between them. The kiss was tender. This time Castiel had time to answer, and when Dean came back with his own effort, it wasn’t broken off mere moments after it began. His mouth was a delicate bow, curling into a smile that parted when Cas wound his free hand around the back of Dean’s neck and scratched through the short hairs there. When they broke apart at last, Dean was breathless but not running, and Cas was more than ready to push his luck. “It’ll be nice to stay here,” he proposed. “Get to know you better.” “Is that all?” Dean laughed. “What if you don’t like what you find out?” “Oh, I doubt that,” Castiel laughed, stealing another kiss. “Uh huh,” Dean teased. “And what if you don’t like me with my clothes off, or something? What if you don’t like the way I brush my teeth, or I have some obnoxious habit with--” This time Castiel used his kiss to smother away any more protests, and when he’d kissed Dean until their lips were chapped and bruised, he eased away, smiling down at him triumphantly. “I’m convinced,” Dean exhaled, once he’d caught his breath. “You’re right, though,” Cas said, unable to help the flicker of a smirk. “I won’t know for sure until I get all your clothes off.” “I thought you’d never ask.”      
While Dean slipped into the bathroom, Cas was left to his own ends in his bedroom, shuffling about the room thoughtfully. It still felt intrusive somehow, even though he was about to sleep with Dean, because the room was full of personal mementos. More pictures were in here. Dean with Sam on his little brother’s graduation, a photo of Sam as a baby and Dean standing with his parents. Castiel briefly fought the instinct to turn the pictures face down, just because he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about the tiny people watching them.
 
They were just photos, he told himself firmly, walking past the dresser and poking his nose into Dean’s closet instead.
 
To his surprise--though he supposed he shouldn’t be very surprised at all--there were a great deal of strange looking outfits in the closet. Dean had a couple of suits, one in black and one in blue, a rack of ties that started at one end traditional like the ties Castiel wore, and changed halfway along the rack into wrangler neckties with various western motifs on them. At the end of the rack half a dozen ascots were held together on the rail by a single clothes peg. There were suit pants, dozens of pairs of jeans and several pairs of full length leather chaps in various states of use.
 
Stacks of cowboy hats of various colors and sizes filled the entire top shelf.

Chuckling, Cas reached in and lifted one down, twirling it thoughtfully in his hands as he shut the closet door and made his way across the room. Another photo caught his attention, a picture of Dean caught off guard leaning against an odd stone sculpture, a rainbow of light decorating the wall far behind him.
 
“That’s the McDonald Observatory,” Dean said, appearing in the bathroom doorway shirtless, and barefooted. “They have a spectrographic telescope up there, that’s the kind that can break information down into wavelengths of light. So the rainbow is an homage to that, you know?”

“It’s a beautiful photograph,” Cas said, softly. “It’s almost like it catches something about you that I didn’t think a still image could. A melancholy, but also the spirit to overcome it.”
 
Dean patted Cas on the shoulder. There was a touch of hesitation, but then there he was, much closer, pushing up against Cas’ side to look over at the photograph with him.
 
“Jess took it. The only summer she ever stayed down here with Sam.”

“I’m glad she did,” Cas sighed, placing the photograph down. He turned his head toward Dean, and just as he’d hoped, he was embraced with a kiss.

“Come to bed now,” Dean encouraged, as the kiss broke away. As he stepped back, Cas felt Dean tugging on the edge of the hat until Castiel released it. The moment he did, Dean popped it on top of his head, backing up right to the edge of the bed.

It took everything in Cas not to just pounce on him and knock the teasing grin straight off Dean’s face. Instead he held his ground, breathing deeply as he began to strip out of his own clothing, taking off the lovely white shirt that Hannah had insisted on dressing him in that morning.
 
God, he really needed to thank her for this push. How did you thank someone for something like this? Offering her a top job made sense, of course, but was it gratitude enough when he’d been planning to do it anyway? Maybe he should send her a hamper.
 
“Hey, dreamer,” Dean called. “You ran out of buttons.”
 
Indeed, Castiel had ran out of buttons. He pushed his shirt back off his shoulders, then stepped forward, tossing it over onto the edge of the bed when he reached Dean’s side. At once, Dean’s warm arms wrapped around him, slid skin against skin, and Cas sighed in clear relief. This was what he was here for. He found himself pressing inward, nosing in against Dean’s freckled shoulder first before chasing kissing along the constellations of his collarbone.
 
“I always wondered where else you had freckles,” Castiel teased. Dean laughed, a rumble of thunder that trembled against Cas’ lips as he kissed Dean’s throat and grazed teeth against his Adam’s Apple.
 
“I have freckles

everywhere,”

Dean promised.
 
“You might be lying.”
 
“Well then you’re just gonna have to take a look, baby.”
 
Again the low, rumbling laugh, and this time Castiel gave him a push, shoving Dean down onto his back on the bed. Much as he expected, Dean’s hat fell off, and Cas reached up to shove it away. It seemed like something he might get in trouble for crushing.
 
By the time they broke apart to breath, the euphoria of it all had Castiel brimming with joy, a smile so permanently attached to his space that he was grinning through every single word to Dean.
 
“How do you wanna do this?”
 
Dean blushed gorgeously, and gave a fitful little squirm. “Can’t we just play it by ear?”
 
But Castiel was shaking his head. “If you can’t even say what you want…”
 
“Okay, okay. I…” Swallowing, Dean pressed on. “Do you...bottom? Like, I mean. Not bottom, cause you’re up there, but like…”
 
Cas could have played it coy, but at this point it didn’t seem like the best idea. “I like it both ways. Any way at all. I don’t even mind if we just do give each other hand jobs for right now, Dean. But if you’d like… Yes, if you like, I’m more than happy to ride you, especially if you haven’t ever had penetrative sex before. That’s what you were asking, right?”
 
By now Dean was beet red. If anything, it made his freckles stand out that much more.
 
“Does it really matter than I haven’t done it before?” Dean asked, softly.
 
“Your first time? Yes and no. My first time, though, I was the receiving partner, and it was… It was very uncomfortable, and frightening. This way, you’ll know what to expect. It’s not… It’s not a slight against you, I promise.”
 
“If you’re sure.”
 
Cas smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to Dean’s lips.

“I’m guessing you don’t have anal lubricant, then?” Cas asked, cheekily, as he climbed out of Dean’s lap. If it was just to make Dean blush again, then it worked, and the embarrassment didn’t have any hope of subsiding because Cas was already digging through his bedside cabinet for supplies.
 
“Astroglide,” Dean said. “And condoms. You know. For the mess.”

Cas had to hold back a laugh. He fished the items out and then rolled back onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard.

“Did I mention the cougar we saw on the way down here?” Cas asked, as he started unbuttoning his pants.
 
“No,” Dean said, blinking with interest. Then “Wait. You’re bringing up the cougar

now

?”
 
“What better time?” Cas asked, shucking them down from his hips. Dean’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” teased Dean, “Because I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone weirder.”
 
“She’s heavily pregnant,” Cas said, kicking his pants off his feet, and then the edge of the bed. “Actually I’d go so far as to say she could give birth any day now, probably very near here.”
 
Dean didn’t really seem like he was listening to the news. His eyes were on Castiel’s very naked body, his cock standing at half mast, and the way he spread his legs wide to expose himself, wiggling back down onto his elbows on the pillows.
 
Castiel smiled. “You don’t have to stay sitting all the way over there.”
 
It was like he’d turned on an electromagnet. One moment Dean was on the other side of the bed, and then they were pressed together, hot balmy skin pressed against skin, lips grazing the stubble across Castiel’s throat. It was difficult to focus on the act of squeezing out the astroglide, nevermind negotiate his arms around Dean’s arms and reach beneath his own body, but it was worth it for the dogged affection he received from Dean, the rough kisses, and the haggard sounds of his breathing.
 
“Take off your jeans,” Castiel hissed, as he teased at his own rim. “It’s easier if I can see you.”
 
By the time Dean had complied, Cas had one finger inside, just as deep as it could go from this angle. He licked his lips and caught Dean’s gaze, which had drifted downward in the moments they’d been apart.
 
“Hey. I need you, too. Just grab the lube, okay? You can help.”
 
Once he’d been given permission, Dean didn’t need any more prompting. Guidance, yes, but Cas walked him through most of it, whispering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. It had been a while, but this felt natural--

sweet

. Dean was gentle, but he was also intuitive, and for a lover that was all that anyone could ask for. It didn’t take long before Cas was wrapping his own arms around Dean’s back instead, just holding on as Dean fingered him, his breathing becoming ever more unsteady.
 
When Dean’s body hitched forward, the slick head of his cock thrusting against the inside of Cas’ thigh, it was time to stop.
 
“You said you wanted me to ride you, “ Cas hissed, pushing against Dean’s chest. “Go on.”
 
“Are you sure?” Dean asked.
 
“I need you inside me,” Cas answered, breathlessly. “So yes. I’m totally sure.”
 
Dean still seemed hesitant to move back, but Cas pushed up toward him easily the second there was room, grabbing for the condoms on the way and struggling to tear one out of the packet with his teeth. With a fistful of astroglide, he slid the condom into place even as he clambered up over Dean’s hips. There was no pause, no hesitation, and only when he was sunken down to the hilt with his head lowered toward Dean’s chest did Cas even pause for breath.
 
Dean didn’t release the sheets he’d grabbed by fistfuls until Castiel had straightened back up again, and, with trembling fingers, placed the abandoned cowboy hat on top of his head. Green eyes stared up in wonderment, and Castiel found himself holding tight to that same feeling of joy from before. Nobody had looked at him like that for so long, like they were looking at a piece of something divine. To Dean, he was an angel, and that was more than good enough for Castiel.
 
“Ready?”
 
It didn’t seem like Dean had access to any vocabulary, so Cas interpreted his nod as a simple yes, and began the steady process of rolling his hips, tugging Dean’s cock within himself more than enough to stimulate them both without exhausting himself.
 
Dean grabbed at the sheets again, fitfully, and Cas bit down on his bottom lip. Maybe next time, he’d ask Dean to touch him, but for right now, it seemed like if he had his hand around Castiel’s cock he might squeeze it to within an inch of his life. Instead he stroked himself in time with his own movements, teasing at the head in the way he knew could rush him toward orgasm, if only because he didn’t think either of them were going to last long.
 
He wasn’t wrong. Orgasm came unsurprisingly quickly from Dean, and Castiel didn’t need much longer to work himself to completion. His come splashed across Dean’s chest, and then they fell together on the bed, tumbled haphazardly in their own mess.
 
If anything, though, Dean surprised him by not falling straight to sleep beside him. He found Castiel’s lips, and kissed him, and rubbed their noses together fondly.
 
“That was wonderful,” Dean sighed. “Really great. How long until we can do it again?”
 
Castiel laughed.
    Castiel pulled at his tie nervously, glancing again at the closed boardroom door. Checking the case of drinks that they’d brought with them, just as he had five minutes ago, revealed that nothing had changed. There were several different melomels--fruit wine made with honey--a braggot, which was a kind of mead brewed with hops, and four kinds of cyser--honey cider in fizzy and smooth, bitter and sweet varieties. Dean had perfected most of the recipes, and assured Cas that the bitter cyser was very nice, even if he didn’t personally like the taste. “Relax,” Dean said, not for the first time. “They’re going to love you, and they’re going to love our range, okay? This is it, Cas. This is the moment when we make it big. All you have to do is walk in there and pour drinks, and they’ll make an order without even thinking about it twice.” “I wish I had your confidence,” Castiel answered, rigidly. He was so spooked, so nervous, that he honestly wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and that fear only jumped when the door at the end of the hall opened and a small man came out, his head down as he hurried off down the hall in the other direction. “Hey. Hey.”  Dean was on his feet in a second flat, scooping Cas’ cheeks into his hands and pulling him in until their noses touched. If he brushed a kiss against Cas’ lips, it was only the lightest touch, like feathers on silk, because it was the sharp focus which did the trick. They looked at each other, and then Castiel’s shoulders sank slowly, relaxing. At once, Dean began to tug at his tie, fixing it all over again. Cas kept tugging at it from nerves, and Dean kept on fixing it, gentle and deliberate as ever so that Castiel couldn’t help but close his eyes as the feeling of being loved and protected, cared for, washed over him. Dean rocked back on his heels when he was done. “You okay?” Dean’s hand slid into his own, and Cas smiled, linking their fingers together and rubbing his thumb across the band of gold steel that marked Dean as his; his husband ; his beloved. “I’m okay,” Castiel admitted. The door opened again, but this time they didn’t turn to look. There was a murmur that rose into voices in conversation, and Castiel froze despite Dean’s comfort at the sound of a familiar voice. It was Michael, shouting at the people in the boardroom as he strode away red faced. “You don’t want our honey any more? We’ve been supplying your store for decades! But fine. Fine! You’ll be hearing from our lawyers!” By the time Michael had finished speaking, walking backward down the hall with his fists clenched, a small entourage following him, he was almost halfway along it, so that when he turned around to finish his march away, he walked almost headlong into Castiel. Michael’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and he shot a fierce glare in Dean’s direction just to be sure, before slamming his shoulder into Cas and carrying on on his way without another word. Stunned silence fell over the corridor, which Dean broke with a grin. “Hey. This is good for us,” he teased. “We were gonna do just fine already, sure, but after that everyone in the boardroom is going to be wanting a drink.” Cas bent over laughing. His eyes were bright when he looked up at Dean, overflowing with love with him, with joy, and the broad smile plastered on his face was sure to melt the hearts of all the stuffy buyers in the boardroom, no doubt about it. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips, just to make sure. “And when we’re done. Honeymoon . We’ve put it off long enough.” “Five weeks isn’t that long,” Dean chuckled. “We put off the wedding three years.” Cas smacked him lightly on the shoulder with his free hand. “You’re ridiculous.” “I mean it,” Dean soothed, running the thumb of his own free hand across Cas’ eyebrow. “I knew I wanted to marry you the second I saw you sitting with Sam and Jess that day. I just thought: ‘Hey. This is the domesticity I want. This is my family.’” Castiel smiled brightly again. It wasn’t the first time Dean had told him about these feelings, but it never failed to warm him to the core. He squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “Then shall we, Mr. Winchester?” Dean beamed right back at him, green eyes twinkling. “We shall, Mr. Winchester.” Laughing and smiling, holding hands, they head into the pitch together. And they nailed it. Because of course they did . Because they were family. Their honeymoon was well deserved when they eventually took it. They didn’t put it off much more than they already had. Twelve weeks wasn’t that long, right?