"Hey, uh, Cas, Castiel, um—it's me. Checking in. Had—had a couple questions? Y'know, about… about the tablet? And Kevin? Thought you might be able to—help me out here. And—um. I'd. I'd like to see you—that you're—how you're doing. So if you could drop on by right now, I'd be much obliged."


Castiel sat straight up from his position on his back on the shady ground, scattering the bees that had been resting on his honey-streaked skin with a disgruntled hum. "He calls," Castiel breathed, eyes aglow. "Dean. He wants to see me."

Then you must go to him, buzzed the bees.

"But—" Castiel hesitated, eyes flicking from insect to insect as though searching for advice. "He is still angry with me."

Then you must go and make him cease to be so.

"How?" Castiel asked eagerly, adjusting his posture so he was sitting cross-legged, like a curious child.

You must show him how Good you have become.

"I was Good before," Castiel pouted but, not desiring an argument, hastily added, "But I understand what you mean. How can I show him?"

In your looks and your actions.

Castiel pursed his lips in thought. "You mean… I should act and dress a certain way to make him like me again?" he asked anxiously, hoping he'd understood the bees right.

Yes.

Castiel uncrossed his legs, sitting up eagerly so he was resting on his knees. "Should I bring him flowers? I could pick him some right now."

No.

Castiel frowned. "Why not?"

Because he will see it as a romantic gesture.

"But that's what this is," Castiel interjected, puzzled.

No, Castiel. You are apologizing, now. You can return to wooing him once you have returned to his good graces.

"Fine," Castiel grumbled petulantly. "What can I do, then?"

The bees paused as though uncertain. How do you plan to look at this meeting?

"I hadn't really thought about it," Castiel admitted. He glanced down, picking at his hospital bracelet that he was too sentimental to remove, no matter how ratty it got. "Winchester, Castiel," the faded writing read. A reminder that no matter how angry Dean got at his angel, Castiel would always be family. "I was planning just to go like this."

Castiel, the bees chided, how do you expect anything to change between you and him if you go as you always do?

"I guess you're right," Castiel sighed. "You always are. What should I wear, then?"

Something that displays the true you.

"My true form would burn his pretty eyes," Castiel noted.

Your personality.

"My personality?" Castiel repeated slowly. "You mean, like, an outfit that best demonstrates who I am? …I don't have anything like that."

A pensive pause. Then go unadorned.

Castiel blinked. "You're saying that if I can't wear anything that'll enhance me, the best thing that will make me look good is wearing nothing?"

It is logical, is it not?

"It is," Castiel beamed. "That's a perfect idea."

The bees rarely sounded smug, but when they thanked Castiel just then, they did.

"But—" Castiel began hesitantly, "will you go with me? I'm—I don't think I'm brave enough to do this alone." He paused, biting his lip, but suddenly brightened. "Plus, you can advise me on what to do as things happen!"

Very well, responded the bees, and Castiel allowed himself to imagine that he heard a bit of a benevolent smile in their humming monotone.

"Then let's go!" Castiel enthused, pulling himself to his feet and freeing himself of his hospital scrubs. He rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting for the bees to assemble. "You're—you're certain this is a good idea?" he questioned, a bit nervous despite himself.

Dean already loves you, the bees assured Castiel. This will just help him to accept that once and for all.

"Alright," Castiel agreed, extending his arms out as if to embrace the bees. "On we go, then."

And with a soft rustle like the fluttering of wings that had once been mile-high, insects and angel vanished.