This is part of a three chapter piece that will post over the course of the next week. It's the final chapter of Dean and Cas's life in Painted Angels (no major deaths though, I promise). They are old men in their sixties with three adopted children; David, 41; Tiana, 25; and Mei, 22. Dean's health has taken a turn, and things in their lives are changing. I hope you enjoy.
This fic is dedicated to Rachel Miner.
Dean stood and stared into the empty space where his studio had once been. In his mind's eye, he could still see the massive Archangel canvases, leaning up against the back wall. He could still smell the linseed oil and turpentine, could still hear Zeppelin echoing off the walls. Could still smell that slight ozone-y smell the Impala gave off as her engine cooled.
"You ok?"
Dean twined his fingers into Cas's. "We'll see."
Three months earlier…
"…and eventually, you'll likely have trouble walking, relating to several factors including weakness, spasticity, loss of balance, sensory deficit and fatigue. I'd highly recommend moving to a home where everything is on one floor. It'll make things easier on you and your care team."
His husband didn't reply. Dean just continued to stare blankly out of the doctor's window.
"Dean?"
"I'm ok," he said softly.
The firehouse officially went on the market five days later.
Most of his art supplies had been donated to the Maryland Institute. They were more than happy to take them, and promised to distribute them to underprivileged students just as Dean had requested. He packed a small box with some sketch pads, graphite, pastels, water colors, and colored pencils. He'd do something as least, as long as his hands cooperated and he could keep the tremors at bay.
Sam flew in for a few weeks to help with the moving process. He, Benny, and Cas spent long days picking through forty years worth of life in the firehouse. Dean wanted to help, but his body refused him, and he ended up sitting on the couch for much of the packing process, sulking as he watched everyone work.
His and Cas's oldest, David, helped with the packing, and their daughters, Mei and Tiana, waited on him hand and foot, despite Dean's protestations. Elena, David's fiancé, carefully wrapped all of their breakables, handling them as if they were just as valuable to her.
The piano had been sold. Not like he'd be able to play it anyway.
Depression creeped in slowly. He'd made the firehouse his home for so long. He was used to her echoes and the temperamental furnace. He was used to his neighborhood – because it wasn't bad enough they were leaving the firehouse, no, Cas had found them a perfect little ranch house in Harford County, a whole county away from the City.
"Dad," Tiana plopped onto the couch beside him. "Sulking does not look good on the over sixty crowd."
"Shut up."
"Seriously. It's not the end of the world and you've been getting progressively grumpier about the city for the last ten years. Papa found you guys such a nice place and we're going to make it so pretty."
"And I'm forty-five minutes from you and Mei, an hour and half from David and Elena -"
"Sulking. Totally sulking. You do realize Mei and I plan to come up every weekend? I'd miss Papa's cooking too much. Mei and I burn water." She reached over and took his hand, wrapping their fingers together. Dean smiled at the color contrast, his freckled peach tones against her flawless sepia, and she squeezed slightly. "You're going to be ok," she told him softly. "I promise you. We're all gonna take care of you, just like you always take care of us. I promise, Daddy. I promise."
…
Dean cried their last night in the firehouse. Cas knew he'd done his best to hold it back, to bury it, but alone in the echoing spaces, only their bed left unpacked, he couldn't keep it in.
"It's not a death sentence," Cas murmured, stroking his hand down Dean's back. "I'm not moving you up to the country to die."
"F-feels like a d-death sentence," Dean sobbed. "I'm g-going to become - become -" he hiccuped, "gonna become a b-burden."
"Sweetheart, listen to me and listen good. You will never, ever be a burden to me. Do you understand?"
"Can't do this," Dean whispered.
"Yes, you can. Many, many people live full and satisfying lives with MS."
"I'll lose my painting -"
"Maybe, maybe not. You heard Dr. Ford."
"Yeah? Well what about when it starts killing my libido? Then what?" Dean's tone had taken on a bitter edge.
"Then I'll still love you. I'll still kiss you, and hold you, and nothing will have changed."
"Everything will c-change," Dean sniffled.
"Yes, things will change. But one thing will never change - and that's the way I feel about you. I will never stop loving you."
"What if I'm in a wheelchair?"
"Then you're in a wheelchair. I'll still love you."
Dean fell silent after that. His tears still dripped into hollow of Cas's collarbone, and an occasional sniffle broke the silence of their room, but he said nothing more.
Cas kissed his forehead and softly began to sing. "There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed…"
Somewhere around the last verse of the song, Dean dropped off, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep.
Cas laid awake for a long time.
Holding hands, they took one last walk through the firehouse.
Mei and Tiana's room, painted with a fairy tale woods theme when they were small. Every time Dean offered to do something new, both of them said no. He smiled at the pink fairy with the pale skin, black hair, and black eyes. Ran a finger down the dress of the yellow fairy, with smooth dark skin, cornrows, and soft brown eyes. His little girls. How could they be all grown up now?
There was Mei's name, painstakingly painted in Japanese characters above the space her bed had been. Tiana's, done in Japanese as well. Mei had done that. Mei was his artist. She'd sat at Dean's knee from the time they adopted her at two years old, watching him paint, childish imitation on her own canvasses. In time, she became fully possessed of her own talent. Mei was a portrait artist of the highest caliber, with an incredible knack for photo-realism that made her old man jealous.
The built in bookshelves in their room were empty; all of Tiana's books and medical texts moved to their new shared condo in the Inner Harbor. Tiana was done with med school, now a neurosurgery resident at Johns Hopkins. Two of his children were Hopkins alumnus, just like their Uncle Sam. Mei went to MICA, just like her Daddy, and was now working at the school as a Fine Arts professor.
David was a lawyer until he managed to get himself elected to the US Senate.
All three of his children were successful and brilliant, and he couldn't be more proud of them.
David's room had been empty for years, as the girls never wanted to seperate, but there were memories in there as well. It had been Dean's room once upon a time, back when he shared the firehouse with his brother and Cas. The walls were white and exposed brick, the windowsills dusty. For some reason, the closet door hanging open bothered him, and Dean crossed the floor to close it. Cas took his hand again when he was done.
Their room looked so strange, empty like that. The pale blue on the walls looked cold now. Dean felt a lump grow in his throat. How could a place that'd seen so much living look so empty?
Cas stepped further into the room and gazed out the window. He turned, arms wrapped around himself. "I was so happy in this room. But it wasn't the firehouse that made me happy - it was you. You made me happy. You still make me happy. Please tell me you understand that?"
Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Walking back across the floor, Cas pulled him close and wrapped him in his arms. Dean laid his head on his shoulder and let the damn tears come anyway. "It's ok. Ssh, baby, it's ok," Cas soothed, combing his fingers through Dean's hair.
They closed the big doors for the last time and Dean looked up at the embossed BFD shield on the wall above the small middle door.
He stared up Remington Avenue, a pang in his chest as he looked at the shuttered Roadhouse. Benny said someone had finally bought it.
God, he missed Ellen and Bobby so much.
Nothing in Remington was the same. It'd been decades since Tessa died and Pamela left. Ash and Andy had gone their separate ways eight years ago; Ash moved out to Arizona somewhere, and Andy to Seattle. Jo lived in Florida with her husband, Inias, and their three kids. Sam and Gabe were in LA. Bobby had passed away three years prior; Ellen, four.
Benny was the only one left of their crowd, and he didn't live above his bar anymore. He and Andrea had a sweet little cottage out in the county, filled with cats, dogs, and five lovely teenaged daughters.
"Ain't gonna be the same 'round here," Benny said quietly, pulling Dean from his reverie. "Don't imagine I'll be too far behind, tho. 'Bout ready to sell this joint anyhow."
"Like the end of an era," Dean murmured.
"Yeah, well - I think it's been a long time comin', brotha."
"Guess so."
Benny wrapped Dean in his big arms, surprising him with a hug. "Don't mean we still can't get together on holidays, y'know? Nothin' really has to change."
"Everything's changing," Dean whispered.
"Not the important stuff. You remember that, now. You still got the real important things. Alrigh'?" Dean nodded. Benny squeezed him one last time and released him. "I'm expectin' you and Cas up the house two weekends from now. Fourth of July. Gonna do crabs. Sound good?"
"Yeah."
"Alrigh' then," he clapped Dean's shoulder, turned and pulled Cas into a hug. Dean heard the whispered take care of our boy and Cas's affirmative.
"You ok?"
"Everyone keeps asking me that."
Sam chuckled. "We know you."
"M'fine. Let's do this."
Lorie, the realtor, pulled the for sale sign off the firehouse. "So that's it," she said cheerfully. "All done."
Cas held the keys out and she took them. "Let's go. I'm already tired and we've got to unpack this moving van when we get up there." He pulled the passenger door of the Impala open and made to slide inside.
Looking down at his trembling hands, Dean sighed. "Think you better drive, Cas," he muttered.
"Ok." Cas kissed his cheek and took the keys from him.
"Alright, Gabe and I'll meet you up there. It's gonna take longer with the truck." Sam hugged Dean. "See you up there."
Gabe fired up the truck and pulled away from the firehouse, honking merrily. Lorie got in her car and left. Benny had already returned to the bar, and just Cas and Dean remained on the sidewalk out front.
"Ready?"
"No."
"Dean -"
"No, I mean, I'll go. It's time to go. But I just - this feels like an ending, Cas. I feel like - I feel like -" Dean's words caught in his throat. "I feel like I'm dying. I feel like I'm terminal and this is like - I dunno. Like my farewell show. And I fuckin' hate it."
"I don't know what else I have to do to convince you this isn't the end. I've shown you every bit of information I could find. This isn't a death sentence. It's not a terminal illness."
Holding up his hands, Dean glared at Cas. "I can't drive my car!"
"Today. You can't drive your car today."
"Dr. Ford said it's going to get worse. That the spasms are going to -"
"No! Stop it. I'm not going to let you drown yourself in pity. Get in the damn car!" Cas spun on his heel, clearly done with the conversation. He slammed the driver's door hard enough to make Dean wince, sympathy in his chest for his poor baby. She was over seventy after all, and it took almost as much to keep her running as it did him.
That thought actually made him chuckle. He smiled back up at the firehouse for a moment.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thanks for everything."
Getting Dean settled into the new house was surprisingly difficult. Although there were things he seemed to like about it - like the airy sun porch where Cas and Sam had set up an art nook for him - Dean complained about most of it. He complained loud and often, and if Cas hadn't been very aware that it was Dean's way of trying to deal with the hand life dealt, he would have been damn near sick of him already.
"It's too new."
"It smells funny."
"It's too quiet up here."
"Too many trees."
"Where are the rest of the houses?"
"Did you move me up here so no one would hear me scream?"
"It's a goddamn mile to the mailbox."
"Not even a lousy Walmart nearby."
Several things made him at least a little happy.
"My baby has her own room."
"The natural light on this sunporch is awesome."
"Love this jacuzzi tub."
"We have a pool. That's kinda cool."
"So many stars, Cas," he murmured one night, as they lay curled together in a chaise. "I've never seen this many stars. So pretty."
Cas kissed his forehead. "It's lovely, isn't it?" He wasn't talking about the stars.
"Yeah," Dean said softly, curling in closer.
"I love you."
Dean didn't answer. His breathing was slow and even against Cas's neck. He'd drifted off to sleep, in the warm summer night as the stars twinkled above them.
Cas wondered if Dean felt half as content as he did.
Gardening became a thing. Cas spent hours researching which plants would be best, which would attract bees, which would attract hummingbirds. It hadn't taken long for him to notice that Dean seemed happiest out in the sun, and he was determined to make the garden as comfortable and inviting as possible.
They were fairly wealthy, although Cas wouldn't call them rich, but money wasn't really an object. He still received fairly regular royalty checks for the twenty plus books he'd managed to get into print, and Dean had sold a lot of paintings over the last several decades. They'd managed their money well, set aside funds for the kids' schooling early on, and hadn't gone into much debt getting three kids educated.
So if Cas popped into Lowe's a little more than he should, who cared?
The first thing he did was order an arbor. It was white, and big enough to put a table and several chairs under. He then trained bougainvilla to climb up the sides and across the open roof.
He bought a nice sized grill, and enlisted Benny to come up one weekend and help him build a firepit. He hired someone to do the maintenance on the pool and bought several nice chaises to station around it. A hammock was hung between two trees. Bee houses were stationed further from the house, and Cas researched bee care in the evenings.
Dean spent a lot of time either in the backyard or on the sunporch. On the days his spasms let him be, he often had a sketchbook in hand.
Currently, on a surprisingly mild late July afternoon, Dean was settled in a chair under the large pine closest to the house, sketchbook in hand. He seemed contemplative, staring out at the beehives on the edge of their large property. He had one pencil hanging from his mouth, another tucked behind his ear. Seemingly lost in thought, he didn't notice as Cas approached with a glass of iced tea.
"Hey," Cas said softly, sitting the glass on a table beside Dean. He leaned down to kiss the top of his head.
"I'm an old man," Dean informed him.
"Really? I hadn't realized."
"No, I mean - I just -" Dean sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do with it."
"Do with what?"
"The just - the oldness. I don't feel old, up here," he tapped at his head. "But my body is turning against me. And I was just sitting here and trying to draw. My hand started shaking. I can't - what is the point of me?"
Cas sat in the chair next to Dean and pulled his hand into his lap. He could feel the tremors running through his fingers and he stroked Dean's palm soothingly. "I love you. Maybe that's the point."
"Cas, you realize it's totally feasible you could be wiping my ass someday?"
"So?"
"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean muttered.
"I can't understand why you think this would bother me. Why I would mind caring for you? You're my whole world, in case you didn't notice." Cas couldn't help the thread of anger in his voice. "That's the point of you. You're mine. I love you. That's the goddamn point and you're the stupid son of a bitch." He ran his fingers up Dean's arm, tracing the lines of the flames tattooed there. "I get it. You think you're worthless, a burden. You're not. I'd rather have you here and have to take care of you than not have you at all."
"You say that now -"
"Jesus, Dean. I get it. I get that you're depressed. It's part and parcel of all this. But I will not let you doubt me. I've never let you down in the almost thirty years we've been married. I won't let you down now, and I am damn sick of you pulling this self deprecating bullshit of yours. You're not getting rid of me. Deal with it!"
Cas yanked himself out of the chair and stomped back into the house. He was pawing through the freezer for something make for dinner when arms wrapped around his waist. Dean didn't say anything, but when he lowered his head to Cas's shoulder, he felt the warm drip of tears.
"Dean, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm frustrated, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Need to suck it up," Dean murmured. "I'm the one that should be apologizing."
"I know you're overwhelmed by all of this. We need to find you an outlet. Something that won't be affected by your bad days. I'll look into it, alright?"
Dean nodded against his neck.
"Alright then. Help me with dinner?"
So this was his life now. Get up every morning, force himself to eat something, check and see what his hands were going to do. If it was a good day, he'd help Cas in the garden, help fold laundry, maybe pull out his sketchbook and draw flowers or bees or whatever other shit he saw around him.
If it was a bad day - well, bad days happened. And Dean did his best to deal, but most bad days, he wanted to hide in his room and forget the world.
Cas's endless patience was wearing thin. Dean could see it. He didn't blame him. Dean was rapidly losing patience with himself. Most days he could at least pretend to keep his chin up - today wasn't one of those days. He'd woken up exhausted. A couple of bathroom trips were the only thing he'd gotten out of bed for, despite how nice it looked outside.
He could hear voices down the hall. Cas had visitors.
"Dad?" Squirming, he sat up in bed. Mei ducked her head in the door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
"How are you feeling? Papa says you didn't want to get out of bed today."
"I'm just kinda tired."
"Don't you always feel better outside though? It's a beautiful day. Tiana and I were going to go up to the apple orchard in Delta and wanted to see if you and Papa wanted to come, too."
"I dunno. Think I better just stay here. Should take Cas though. He's been cooped up here with me and I know he needs to get out. Make him buy apples. Maybe I'll get a pie."
Mei frowned. "Daddy, you need to get out, too. Papa says you haven't left the house in two weeks."
"Easier at home, marshmallow. Can't stand the way people stare and shit."
"No one's staring."
"Yeah, they are. Especially when I have to use the damn cane. I can feel their eyes on me. It's unnerving - and demoralizing."
Pulling her long black ponytail over her shoulder, Mei started braiding the strands idly. "I dunno, Dad. I think you're making excuses. It's nice out - not too hot, and we could get ice cream. You should come."
"You should leave me alone," Dean shot back, regretting it instantly. Hurt was written all over his girl's face. "Oh, Mei, I'm -"
"Nope. Sit here and wallow. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself. We're taking Papa out for the day and you can sit here and be a jerk and I hope you think about how much you're hurting him right now." She yanked her body off the bed and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Shit," he muttered to himself. They were gone before he managed to get himself together enough to get out of bed.
Cas hadn't even said goodbye.
Dean found a phone and stumbled slightly on his way out to the sun porch. He settled into a comfortable chair and dialed the number from memory.
"Hello?"
"Is Cas pissed at me?"
"Well hello to you too, Dean-o," Gabe said drily. "I'm fine, your brother is doing well, thanks for asking."
"Yeah, great. Is he upset with me?"
Gabe sighed. "What do you think?"
"Uhh -"
"Shut up. You wouldn't have called me if you thought everything was fine."
"Yeah, I uh -"
"Yes. You're killing him. He's bending over backwards to make you comfortable and you just mope around like the world is ending."
"It feels like -"
"I know what it feels like. Shit, Dean, we all know what this is doing to you. But think about what's it's doing to him. I know you're not generally a selfish person, but you're being one right now. I know you're in pain. I know you're in an emotional black hole. And that's ok, but don't you dare drag him down with you. Because at the end of the day, if you fuck him up, who's going to put up with your bullshit?"
"Ouch," Dean said quietly.
"Yeah. Well, that's my little brother, ok? That's my version of Sam. So I'm allowed to be a jerk where he's concerned."
"Are you bitching at Dean? Give me that!" There was a slight scuffle on the other end, muffled arguing. "Yeah, go eat a pound of candy, you damn diabetic. See you in the ICU!" More muffled sounds. "Love you too," Sam said with a low chuckle. "Hey, Dean."
"Hey. That sounded good."
"Typical old married asshole argument. We're fine. Did he rip you a new one about Cas?"
"Kinda."
"Yeah, well, when Cas calls in tears at midnight, it's enough to get Gabe upset."
"Tears? Really?"
"Yeah. He thinks you're giving up, and he feels like if you're giving up, he might as well, too."
"Shit."
"Look, Dean, I get it. I'm not even prone to depression like you are, and if I was in your shoes, I'd be fucking depressed, too. But you have to keep on fighting. You have to keep your chin up. We all keep telling you over and over again that this isn't a death sentence. You have a lot of years left in you, and the best thing you could do for yourself is live them. Don't sit home and waste away. What is the point of that?"
"Sammy -"
"So you need a cane. Who fucking cares? You have grey hair and wrinkles -"
"Thanks, asshole -"
"People expect you to have a cane. 'Cause you're old and shit."
"Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"
Sam chuckled. "Makes me feel better."
"Haha. Very funny."
"Seriously, though," Sam said, voice taking on a softer tone, "you need to go easier on Cas. And you need to go easier on yourself."
"I hear you," Dean muttered around the lump in his throat.
"Do you really? Because I know you. I know how you like to beat the shit out of yourself. Have you talked to the therapist Dr. Ford recommended?"
"Don't need a head shrinker."
"Oh, please. What happened to all those years ago when you and Cas got back together and you made me go with you? Remember? Or when Dad died back in '19 and you dragged me to therapy again? And now it's all, I don't need a head shrinker," Sam mocked. "You're a damned idiot. I should fly out there. Straighten you out."
"Yeah, you should. Miss your ugly mug."
"Well, if I do, I'm dragging your ass to therapy this time. Capische?"
"Whatever."
"Yeah, whatever."
Dean smiled into the phone. "Heh."
"What?"
"Old men. Still brothers, though. Still argue like assholes."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Me, neither."
"I'm looking at airline tickets now. I could come out Labor Day weekend. Stay a bit. Just me. Gabe's got Hollywood bullshit going on."
"Yeah, that'd be cool."
"Alright, then. Get one of your beautiful daughters to pick me up. I'd say the smart one, but that's both of them."
"Ain't that the damn truth."
"Dean. Take care of yourself, ok?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Don't yeah, yeah me. I mean it. This isn't the end of Dean Winchester -"
"Novak-Winchester."
"Novak-Winchester. Whatever. You've still got a lot of living in you. Don't spend it staring at the walls and losing your mind. Get up, do something - where is Cas, anyway?"
"Girls came and took him to an apple orchard up in Pennsylvania."
"Why didn't you go - nevermind. Well, get up, get moving. Do a load of dishes, throw some laundry in the washer. Do something. Surprise him with dinner, I dunno. Do something."
"I hear you."
"Ok. I'll see you in few weeks. Love ya, asshole."
"Bitch."
"Jer-," Sam chuckled. "Why haven't we outgrown that whole bitch/jerk thing?"
"Because I said so and I'm the oldest."
"You are old."
"Fuck you."
"Alright. Bye."
"Bye." Dean disconnected the phone and stared out at the back yard. He watched a bumblebee buzz around in the lilac bush. "Stupid content bee," he mumbled.
A sketchbook lay open on a nearby table. Picking it up, he thumbed through the pages, staring at dozens of drawings of bees on flowers, bees in the air, bees all around. God, Cas loved bees. Always had. He was fascinated about how the world literally depended on honeybees for survival.
The pencil fell out of the sketchpad and into his lap, and he stared at both it and the paper. His hand wasn't shaking that bad. A silly idea filtered into his brain, and he turned the pad to a fresh sheet and starting drawing.
Hours later, Cas and the girls came home. Dean was still drawing.
"Hello, Dean. Good to see you up and about." Cas leaned over to kiss him. "What are you drawi- is that me?"
"Yeah."
"Why am I naked and covered in bees?"
"Heh. Thought it might be funny."
"You'd never let me sit on the car like that."
"I'd let you. You're the only one. You're special."
Sitting across from him, Cas gave him a slightly bemused smile. He ran a hand through his shock of white hair. "You're in a good mood."
"Sam's coming to visit Labor Day weekend."
"Oh. That's wonderful. Gabe too?"
"Gabe has something going on. Are the girls still here?"
"They want to stay for dinner, but they're concerned you're not up to it."
"I am."
Cas smiled bigger. "Wonderful. We have a bunch of apples. I was thinking about making a couple of pies."
"Hell, yeah."
Standing, Cas squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Me, too." Dean set the pencil aside. "I'm sorry, Cas. I know I'm being a jerk and all."
"It's ok."
"No, don't say that. It's not ok and I'm trying to apologize here. It's not ok. You're taking good care of me and taking care of everything, really, and all I do is lay around in bed. That's not being a very good husband."
Sighing, Cas sat down on the edge of the foot stool. He patted Dean's leg. "This is hard for you. I expect some difficulty adjusting."
"Adjusting is one thing. Being a dick is something else entirely. I snapped at Mei."
"I know. She told me."
"Upset her, didn't I?"
"Yes."
Dean covered Cas's hand with his own. "Upset you, too. Did you really call Gabe in tears?"
"He wasn't supposed to tell you that," Cas grumbled, cheeks coloring.
"I wish you'd have told me," Dean said softly. "I'm pretty self-absorbed sometimes."
"Well, you have a right to be. This is a huge adjustment."
"That doesn't mean I should be taking it out on you. Fight back, Cas. Tell me I'm being an asshole. Don't let me get away with this shit."
Cas didn't say anything. In the house, they could hear the girls horsing around, music drifting out the open door. Dishes clattered, cabinet doors were slammed. A grin formed on Cas's face. "They're likely eating all our food," he chuckled.
"How is it two smart girls who learn difficult concepts with ease both managed to fail your cooking lessons?"
"Hell if I know. At least David learned."
"Yeah. Know what he told me the other day?"
"What?"
"He's thinking about running for President."
"Yes, I was aware. He's been talking about it for a while. Not sure how I feel about it. Even in this more enlightened age, the media will call his "unusual parentage" into question."
"Yeah. Well. All we can do is support him. That's what parents are for."
"Indeed."
Another cabinet door slammed and Mei's high pitched giggle drifted out the door.
"Ok, I'm going to go see what those two are up to," Cas chuckled. He stood and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Stay out here and soak up this weather. It's good for you." A kiss on Dean's head, and he disappeared into the house. "You two better not be eating everything in sight!" he called, a bunch of wild giggles in response.
Another fat bee buzzed past the sunporch.
"Stupid content bee," Dean said with a smile.