Sam contemplated sipping his hot coffee, mixed with a little cream and sugar. He blew softly on the brew as if it were threatening to prevent future tasting on his sensitive buds. The aroma enticed him and his want for its magical properties, even though he knew it was too hot he couldn't help but take one s- "Mornin', Sam," but before he could make the worst decision of his day, his brother shuffled through the doorway.
"Morning? It's 3 O'clock in the afternoon, Dean."
"Hm?" Dean curled into the red armchair in the corner of the study, "Oh, well good afternoon, madame."
Sam pursed his lips. His coffee was cooling rapidly next to his pile of afternoon, evening, night, and early morning reading. "Late night?" Sam said, emphasizing the disappointment he felt in his tone. He got up from the dark wood table and handed Dean his perfectly temped coffee.
"Thanks, yeah, sung "Closing Time" with the bar keep."
"That's great." Sam poured himself another cup from the thermos near by.
"Hey, I don't have to be judged by my little brother for going out and having a little fun, it has been pretty morose around here lately."
"Dean, it is always morose around us. Our life is a long sad tale. And Cas fell, and he's been depressed. He lost his home. I'd expect out of all people, you would be there for him."
"Hold on Sammy, I feel for the guy, but I can't hold his hand," Dean chuffed. He took a sip of his coffee. "This is really good."
"Dean—"
"Sammy, I'm sorry, O.K., can I have this delicious coffee in peace?"
Sam sat down, huffed, rolled his shoulders up, crossed his arms, and with a tightly closed mouth looked Dean in the eye.
"Thank you," Dean avoided Sam's gaze and drank. Sam rolled his eyes, shifted his knees apart, leaned forward and stared at Dean from under long lashes. "Cas needs you."
"Cas is going to be fine."
"Yeah, he is, but he will get better a lot faster if you help him."
Dean shifted his body away from his brother, "O.K., I'll go talk to him."
Sammy rose, towering with agile confidence, "He's been in the apiary all day." He gathered a few books and his coffee and headed towards his room.
Dean brought his empty mug to the kitchen, now looking for something to settle the uneasiness in his stomach. As he slathered a generous amount of butter in a piece of toast he pondered what Sam had said…Casneeded him. But how? He just couldn't see what he could do for Cas,who's seen it all, can do anything. He rinsed and dried the mug and set it on the counter. He looked out the window above the sink and saw Cas, circling his hives, doing what seemed to be counting. He could do somethings for Cas, like introduce him to some cooler hobbies. He watched Cas disrobe his netted hat and white jumpsuit, watched him lift the end of his shirt up over his head and throw it lackadaisically to the grass. The top of his boxers peeked over the old jeans slung low on his waist. They were worn through at the knees, but it suited him, Dean thought. He watched him scratch his head, run his fingers through his dark, crazy hair, scratch the back of his neck, he was looking for something. He bent over and picked up a small black notebook and a pencil. He scribbled something in his notebook, threw it back on the ground and plopped down there himself. He lay on the grass in full appreciation of the warm summer sun, eyes closed, facing heaven.
Cas knew Dean was hovering above him before he said "Hey, man." Cas knew it was him by the time he was half-way across the yard. Cas slid one eye open, studying the worry behind the green eyes that stared down at him. He quickly shut it again and resumed his sun-drenched meditating.
"Mind if I join you?" Dean stretched out next to him, grunting as he shifted a shoulderblade around a pointed rock, edging closer to Cas' side.
"Not at all," Cas smiled.
"How'r the bees?"
"They're multiplying, the hive seems healthy."
"Great. I love wild honey on my pancakes."
Cas listened to the buzz of the bees, felt the tingling energy within, the warm light on his skin, the presence of Dean a few inches away, his hot breath, in and out, all thoughts except one slid back into oblivion.
"Cas," Dean's soft breath echoed in his ear, he opened his eyes. Dean was very close, he had something in his hands. Cas sat up, facing Dean. They both sat crosslegged, Dean in his flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, Cas' flushed pink chest. Dean gingerly lifted a braid of tiny yellow and white wild flowers and placed it on Cas' tangled hair.
"I'm sorry," Dean had tears in his eyes, Cas thought they were stars, "for not being there, here," Dean swallowed. Cas, lips parted, breathing heavier, watched Dean's neck throb and shoulders quake. He grabbed Dean's hands just to keep them from shaking.
"I'm so sorry, Cas, I'm sorry-" Cas cut him off with a stern press of the lips. Dean went soft, he gripped Cas' hands harder as if to steady himself. Cas opened his eyes, not afraid to look at Dean's green pools of starlight with his own two blue universes, to get lost, to study, to memorize. Cas kissed Dean again, purposefully, gently, emphasizing a deep feeling that never wavers. Dean reached for him, pulling them together, closing an open touch on Cas' cheek.
Sam sipped his coffee, now nicely set with sugar and cream. He stood before the window in the kitchen facing the apiary. He laughed, shook his head, and marveled at the fate of him in his brother.