Old Man Winter wasn't really any older than the others, yet somehow he got the name and it stuck. The form he took was a bit older-looking than the other three but not vastly enough to be noteworthy. In all likelihood it had something to do with the way his shoulders slumped like a snow drift. Or how he stood as still ice and saw right through you. It could also have been the way he remained perpetually behind the times, watching the earth spinning, coming and going but paying no mind to anyone or anything other than his fellow Seasons.
In the personal opinion of Spring, it was none of these things that gave Winter his "Old Man" adjectives. Sure, the characteristics might enhance the idea, but if you asked Dean, he would have told you it was Winter's eyes.
Atmospheric in their depth of color, they were almost indescribable. Granted, all Seasons had vivid eyes, Spring a radiant emerald, Summer a burst of sunshine surrounded by a seagreen lake. Autumn an array of colors.
Still, Winter's eyes were exceptional and extraordinary. Cyaneous as the bird. Exactly the shade of snow on a perfectly clear night. As blue as ice.
And beyond that, so full of ancient knowledge, of seen things rather left unseen, of dark pasts and darker histories, of pain and suffering and mistakes made, and forgiveness, and kindness, and understanding, and all the goodness of humanity passing beneath his fingers, and more. All in his eyes.
"Old Man Winter" got his name from his eyes.
If you asked Spring anyway.
Their first names had been a part of them when they came into existence. Spring and Summer as brothers, close companions. Autumn a clever little red-headed imp who loved them all and took Winter as her best friend.
Their second names they chose for themselves. Summer picked Sam. Autumn could never decide and changed it every few years, but "Charlie" was her favorite. Winter chose Castiel, but Spring, a mischievous sprite named Dean dubbed him "Cas" and all the others followed along.
In any case, they had all four of them existed for a very, very long time. So much so that none of them remembered things like when exactly it was they first met or how many times the earth had spun since then. Autumn wasn't sure if it was when she was named Celeste or Cynthia the brothers adopted her as their sister. And Castiel could never tell you when exactly it was he fell in love with Dean. As far as he could remember, he'd always been in love with him.
He knew, though, when it was he realized it.
Winter that year had been very cold for the humans down in there little villages when Spring came out of nowhere. He danced across the earth with a boyish laugh, green flannel wrapped around his strong shoulders and an aster tucked behind his ear. Beneath his loving touch, flowers bloomed from their icy covering, green blossomed on the trees, and the scent of pollen filled the air.
Castiel didn't stop him, but he stood by and watched, a little amused as Spring tickled the underside of a blue rose like one would a pet until it arched up and spread its petals. When his back was pressed against an old oak tree, his body taught and chin uplifted as he watched the new leaves bud on the branches above, a smile curling his lips, Castiel finally spoke. "Dean. You're early."
His smile turned on him, and Dean cocked his head. "Spring is never too early, Cas." Pushing off the tree, he stepped right up to Winter. The iris green of his eyes intensified. A bird woke up and trilled. A buzz of bees found Dean and flitted around him happily, trailing in his wake like little lovesick puppies. And the ice under Castiel's feet melted away, replaced by verdant green.
"Dean," he scolded. "There are rules." A fuzzy little yellow-striped honeybee perched on Dean's knuckles and rubbed his little body on Spring's skin, searching for that perfect sweetness only he carried. When it was satisfied it buzzed off towards its hive to tell the others and Dean chuckled as it went.
"You're too tense. Have a little fun, Cas." Cas rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, but Spring just danced off. The blue roses he had cultivated before found their way into his hands, and he started weaving. Bees came and went as he worked, claiming his sweetness, or just following him with a merry buzz, and Castiel found it unbearably charming. He didn't speak again or protest as Spring warmed the land as he worked, but he watched as Spring's nimble fingers wove something beautiful.
When he was done, he grinned, stood, and the impossible crown he had created dropped atop the dark head of Winter. He was sure they looked almost amusing, perfect and blooming on his head of black, bright and alive and nearly matching the shade of his cold eyes. But Spring stood so close to him, and when his fingers left the perfect beauty he had created, they trailed through Castiel's hair. His palm landed on Castiel's cheek. And he was looking into Castiel's eyes when he smiled and said, Perfect.
And in all perfect seriousness, Winter blushed.
Youthful Spring danced away to the call of his bees and nurtured his light and life from Winter's cold earth while he stood by and said not a word. He watched him the entire time, following him around and standing by as he brought new life to the earth and wondered how he'd never realized before.
There was so much light inside of Dean, so much life. And he was kind and he was good, and he was beautiful, and Castiel was in love.
Seasons moved on, came and went by. Summer made the sun shine bright and hot and played with puppies in the park. Autumn painted the leaves a dozen different colors and blew the skirts of girls with a cold gust and a cackle before swooping down and introducing herself. Winter came again, and when it was his turn he had a little fun. He brought with him snow days and frozen lakes the children slid across, and he sent the cold deep into the earth so Spring would have to take days and days working his warmth back into the ground. Days and days and days where he would be at Castiel's side, clucking at the depth of Castiel's reach, squawking at his favorite frosted rosebush, growling as he pressed his cheek into the frozen bark of the Old Oak.
"Makin' me work for it this year, ain't'cha?" he asked with a pretend scowl, his palm pressed to the ground as he sat cross-legged and looked up at Castiel. As always, bees hummed around him, buzzing to and fro, occasionally landing to rub against Dean and make the sweetest honey.
Castiel was jealous of them.
"Yes," he answered.
Dean's scowl broke, and he chuckled in disbelief. "You're not even gonna deny it?"
Castiel's head tilted to one side. "Why would I do that?"
Dean didn't answer. He looked down-to focus on what he was doing Castiel assumed-and smiled. For some reason he seemed almost shy when next he looked up at Castiel. There was a bee in the palm of his hand, and when he whispered to it, it rose in the air and flitted to Winter. For a moment it hovered in front of his eyes, and then it buzzed around him. Castiel followed it with a turn of his head until it found a perch on his opposite shoulder. "Her name is Baby," Dean told him with a smile. "As long as you treat her right, she'll be your friend now too."
The warm glow that Dean always seemed to give him when he was close expanded in Castiel's chest. He stared in awe at the little honeybee. "Hello, Baby."
All of Castiel's hard work freezing the ground was undone from one breath to the next when Dean's face lit up with his grin and life radiated from him.
And yet, Winter wasn't sorry. Not even a little with the sunshine of Dean's smile warming his heart.
The rest of the season he followed Spring in a daze with a honeybee on his shoulder.
The problem was, Winter thought himself, well, cold and unattractive. The humans called him "Old Man," and how could that ever be alluring to a beautiful sprite of a Season with so much light inside of him it was almost painfully bright?
Seasons came and Seasons went, and Winter's love didn't diminish in the least. Whenever there was a reasonable excuse, he was at Dean's side, and he knew one could compare him to the bees, following him anywhere for a crumb of his sweetness, but Castiel didn't mind the similarities between them.
But how could he express himself? How could he earn Dean's affection when he was just a cold, dead gust of air and patch of ice and Dean was life?
This impossible equation was distracting his mind one day in late winter when he was following Spring across the earth. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize how close he'd gotten to Spring while Spring's hands moved in the air and the vines of two plants wove together to create something new.
"I have a theory, Cas."
Winter blinked out of his reverie only to realize he was just inches from Dean, though Dean faced the other way as he worked. "Hm?" His gaze drifted across short hair, a bit longer now than usual, the tips brushing his neck. A graceful neck with a freckle just above his collar. A neck Castiel longed to explore with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.
"If these two successfully cross-breed, something beautiful will be created."
With a lick of his lips, Castiel tore his eyes from that freckle to look at the two creeping vines at Dean's feet. All these years following Dean he had picked up on a few things here and there, and he knew these two didn't normally go together. But this was Spring talking, and if he thought they would... "I have no doubt."
Dean nodded his head and continued his work. But a moment later, he spoke again and this time the Season's tone had taken on a higher frequency, lighter and somehow mephistophelian in nature. He said, "Do you ever think about breeding, Cas?"
Winter regarded the two weaving vines. "Not outside of that which is in regards to you," he answered truthfully.
"Oh," Dean said, "So you think about breeding with me, huh?" He turned to face Castiel with a bit of a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes that brought a shiver of strange delight to Castiel's stomach.
The fact was, Spring was standing very close, close enough for Winter to see the pollen-like flecks of gold in his otherwise verdant eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd seen them, but it was so rare he was close enough that it momentarily took his breath away. It also took a second for the words he had spoken to sink in. Probably, it was Dean's eyes breaking from his to look down his face that snapped him out of it. "I-I do." It was the truth. Castiel often thought of following Spring as he brought life to the trees, made flowers bloom, and encouraged the breeding of two genuses.
Dean's grin widened, and he found Castiel's eyes again. "We should breed more often." His voice was clearly teasing, but it came out low, almost husky... The Season had a distinct feeling he was missing something, but still he liked the tone of that voice.
"I would like that..." he murmured slowly in reply, assuming that would be a safe answer.
A low chuckle spilled from Dean's perfect lips as he shook his head in what appeared to be mild amazement. "God, Cas, you..." he trailed off. "You-" he started and stopped again, staring into his eyes with that wide smile and... something else. A long moment passed, and then he shook his head and laughed and looked away, and whatever was on his face now was broken and sad and affectedly happy. "Yeah... Yeah, man." Scratching his hair he turned around and started back on his weaving. "We'll do that."
Eyeing the back of his head and the freckle above his collar Castiel wondered what he'd done wrong.
"He's strong and brave and kind and generous, and he loves with his whole heart. The light inside of him is bright, almost painfully bright, and he's beautiful-" Castiel listed the many attributes of the Season he was in love with as Autumn stirred the trees and brought the winds. They were sitting on the edge of a lake, Castiel cross-legged as he had seen Dean sit, Charlie with her legs dangling over the side, her bare toes just barely grazing the water and creating gentle ripples in the reflective pool. Even in the gray light of the clouded day, the lake miraged the reds and yellows of the surrounding trees.
"Okay, okay, okay," Autumn said, laughing, her palms raised. "You're totally lost on the guy. I get it!"
"But Charlie, do you?"
The Season with the brightest hair and the most colorful eyes manipulated the full vibrancy of her aura. Cold branches creaked, the gusts blew, and Castiel had to brush some brown leaves from his coat. "Okay," he said. "You do."
Autumn tossed her scarlet hair. "He's perfect. That about sum it up?"
How could he explain? "He's not perfect. He makes mistakes, Charlie, but he tries so hard, and he cares so deeply, and..." he sighed, desolate. That familiar longing thrummed in his chest. "That's why I love him. But I'll never be good enough."
"Oh my God, Cas! Don't you dare." With a scowl on her sweet face, Charlie slapped his arm. A bunch of trees creaked on the other side of the lake with her flare of emotion. "You are awesome, dude. Smart, wise, loyal, caring, cool," she snorted and grinned at her pun until Castiel didn't and then she rolled her eyes. "And you're sexy enough I'm almost into your form."
"I'm... sexy?" Winter tilted his head and looked down at his body. He rarely manifested himself to the humans, but there was an occasional being throughout history who could see the Seasons. One or two of them had commented positively on his appearance, but Castiel had always assumed they were just trying to appease him because there was something they wanted. He'd never taken them seriously.
"Uh, yeah, Cas, you're sexy. And kinda cute because you clearly don't know it. The point is," she went on, "you're plenty 'good enough,' so don't let me hear any of that ever again."
The clouds rolled a little thicker with a sudden burst of cold, and Castiel looked at Charlie, breathless. "You think I have a chance?"
"Dean would be lucky to have you." The Season reiterated, rocking back on the heels of her hands. "All you have to do is talk to him."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but my 'social skills' are 'rusty.' When you say talk to him, do you mean tell him that I'm in love with him?"
"Aww," Autumn cooed. She squeezed his arm. "Well, maybe not right away. Show him you're interested first. Do something with him he likes. Oo," she snapped her fingers. "Bees! He likes bees, right? Do something with bees."
"Bees?" The tiny furry friends were usually near Dean. The way he cared for their hives, warming them through and through, and letting the little ones collect his sweetness for their honey, smiling at them as they did it, Castiel knew he loved them.
And ever since Dean sent Baby to him, the others had paid him more attention, buzzing around his head and alighting in his hair.
Yes, yes, this could work! Charlie thought he was sexy. Dean loved bees. Winter smiled, hopeful, and started putting a plan together.
The three-quarters disc of the setting sun on the horizon on this side of the earth cast the field in golden honey light. Spring had been working on the grass and the earth and feeding the tiny insects when Castiel came unto him.
With all the work that had to be done in the hive, the bees had taken some convincing, but Castiel had talked with them. In the end, their love for Spring had won them over and granted him this favor, so that when he came to Dean, completely without cloth or cover, the bees came with him, surrounded him, covered him to some extent.
If he trusted Autumn, which he did, and he really was "sexy," plus surrounded by Dean's favorite creatures, in this way, Winter hoped he would be enticing.
"Heya, Cas, look at this little blossom," Dean murmured as he sensed Castiel's presense nearby but didn't yet turn to see him standing there. The first bee Dean had introduced him to perched in Castiel's hair. "She's trying to bloom already," he chuckled, pleased.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied. "She is of the same genus you created last year for endurance and fortitude."
"Yeah," Dean said, sounding surprised. "You remember tha-?" he had turned his head as he asked the question and stopped short. The verdant green of his eyes intensified, and Dean rose abruptly to his feet. For a moment he followed the patterns of the bees up and down before landing on Baby perched in his dark tresses. A cherry-blossom stroke of color brushed across his cheeks.
"The bees-they like me now," Castiel murmured proudly. Pleasure warmed Castiel's cold core, and he smiled. This was working! Dean was intrigued by what he saw, and soon he would say something to prove-
Spring laughed, a bright, happy sound full of life. "I see the bees have really warmed up to you."
Okay... that wasn't what Castiel was expecting...
But then Dean started walking towards him, and Castiel straightened his shoulders. Okay, this was something, wasn't it? Castiel half lifted his hands, but then Dean squeezed his arm, an intensity in his eyes. "I told ya they'd like you."
"Well... yes. You did..." He trailed off. Dean raised his hand and took Baby from his hair, gave him a tight smile, and then walked right past him. In helpless dismay Castiel turned around and watched him go, striding across the field and disappearing in the forest beyond.
He didn't glance back once.