I'm so, so sorry my unicorns! Somehow this chapter got lost! I'm fixing it right now! Please be patient!

After doing the dishes, starting a load of laundry and lounging about, while Ayreon softly played in the background, Cas made himself some lunch.
He caught sight of the sky through the kitchen window, and frowned. It was dirty yellow, and threatening snow.
His phone binged with a weather notification, making him rush to get it.
Not five seconds later he barked a Dutch expletive and dropped his phone on the sofa, whilst making a mad dash for his sockdrawer.

Pulling on warm socks, his jeans and his boots, Cas kept an eye on the sky, which had started to drop fluffy, white flakes.
He stopped the cd, pulled on his black coat, revelling in the way it hugged his form like it was happy to see him, and made his way to the scullery.
His eyes brightened slightly as he took in the two shelves of resin skulls. It had started out as a joke between Gabriel and him. Oma, when she heard his house had a scullery, had innocently asked what skulls had to do with a house, to which Gabriel had burst our laughing, and Cas had explained what it actually was.

As a housewarming gift, Gabriel had given Cas his first resin skull. They were all very lifelike, and probably pretty expensive, but every now and then, Gabriel would gift him another, each one different from the rest. His last addition was one with ramshorns and fangs. The box had been labeled 'Resin Demonskull'.
Even oma had joined in and this had been her Christmas gift to him, last year.
He rubbed a finger over the enlarged canine and smiled, before turning to the door.

The wind cut off his muttered curse, as the cold hit him hard.
This was the pits for his bees!
The temperature had stayed pretty mild, for South Dakota standards, since New Years, and his bees had been getting active.
This sudden drop could potentially spell doom for his hives.
Bracing himself, Cas trudged through the built up snow and made his way to the back of the yard, where his hives stood.

The buzzing that came from the hives was loud enough to be heard while standing next to them. Breathing easier, Cas checked the temperature to be extra sure, but the volume told him his swarms were home and taking care of their heat regulation.
The snow still drifted down, and some flakes made their way under his collar, causing him to shiver.
It would be best to get back inside, and hope Dean would make it home safely.
After one last pat to the hives, Cas turned and retraced his steps.

When he got to the scullery door, he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Dean was home, and opened the door to the kitchen.
He recoiled slightly at the sight of Cas' collection, and his mouth moved as he probably cussed out Cas.
It made Cas chuckle softly as he reached for the door.
Dean was looking at that very first skull, his back turned on the door.
Feeling mischievous, Cas silently stepped inside and closed the door swiftly.

Dean tapped the skull with a nail and chuckled low. Then he picked it up and took on a woeful stance. Cas bit his lip, willing himself to stay silent. It looked like Dean was about to...
"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him Horatio..."
And that was both expected and surprising. Cas had thought a 'Hamlet' was coming, but not the correct text. So, he ended the quote in his own gravelly voice, secretly enjoying the way Dean jumped at it.
"Don't do that... Geez, you're gonna give me a heart attack one day." Dean groused, hand pressed to where Cas now knew that sexy tattoo was.

He chuckled low, and started to remove the snow that had settled on his coat. It was starting to melt already, even though the scullery was significantly colder than the house.
"So, you finally decided to check out my skulls?" he teased Dean, trying to ignore the buzz that had started in his veins when he thought about that morning.
"No. You weren't in the house, so I thought I should see if you were here, or maybe got caught in that." came the slightly croaked answer.
Cas followed his gesture towards the window, to find the snow blocking nearly everything. Thinking about his bees, Cas pondered it. He was glad to have stepped out when he had.
"Hm. I was out there. I wanted to check the temperature on the hives." he explained himself.

Suddenly he felt a hand brush through his hair, and his heart lept to his throat. Did Dean just stroke his hair? Why?
He snapped his head around, only to catch a startled and slightly guilty look on Dean's face.
"What are you doing?" Cas asked, curious to know the answer.
"I...I ehm... You have snow in your hair..." Dean said, a shocked quality to his words.
Pushing down the disappointment, Cas ran his own hand through his locks, to see a few flakes dislodge and drift down.
"Huh. So I do. Thank you, Dean."

In his mind he replayed everything he'd seen in here, and a question arose.
"I didn't know you knew Shakespeare." he said softly, still amazed at the correct quote Dean had given.
Dean looked abashed and mumbled: "Just a bit..."
Heart glowing at how cute a flustered Dean was, Cas corected him.
"More than just a bit, Dean. Most people go for the "to do, or not to do" phrase when encountering a skull. You picked the apropriate one." he supplied, tugging his gloves off.
Dean blushed so deeply, Cas felt that if he were to press his hand to them, the warmth would burn his cold hands.

Dean mumbled something about playing Hamlet in highschool, probably fearing that Cas would find him a dweeb or nerd.
Cas just grinned at him, imagining him in the appropriate costume, and liking it.
To reassure Dean, he just said he was lucky to have met a fellow theatre kid, and took off his coat, placing it on the table next to the door.
Dean's eyes took in his old, faded T-shirt and a smile tugged at those enticing lips.
"A Reinventing the Steel shirt... and it looks old enough to be from the release tour." he nodded in appreciation.

Cas ran his hand over the shirt, remembering the day he bought it.
He told Dean about it, loving the fact that he could share this happy memory with someone who would know how awesome it was.
Dean was radiating warmth and it felt like sunshine on the first day of Spring.
When Dean asked about other bands, Cas noticed how close they were standing, and his mind pounced on that information, creating all kinds of tempting scenario's.
Willing his thoughts back on track, Cas licked his lower lip before answering.
He had to do something, before he would... well... do something...
He started to untie his boots, figuring that if he got inside, the temptation would fade.

Suddenly Dean changed the subject, asking if his boots were the ones from the closet.
Taken by surprise, Cas frowned and asked why they wouldn't be.
"I.. I just assumed they were left by that other guy..." he answered with a shrug.
Cas burst out laughing.
That was the silliest thing Dean could have answered.
"Balthazar?! Oh my word, no! He wouldn't touch these with a ten foot pole! Loafers for him, or respectable shoes or boots. He'd take cyanide before donning combatboots!"
The image of Balthazar in combatboots was so entertaining, Cas nearly missed Dean's invitation to get inside, and his mention of a present.
That piqued his interest and he tilted his head.

He surreptiously took a deep breath, and smelled Dean. Not his cologne, or deodorant, but his own, woodsy smell.
His insides lurched and he nearly reached out to pull Dean against him.
He swiftly pushed past Dean before he could act.
Cas cleared away his boots and then looked around wonderingly.
"Looking for this?" Dean asked, holding up the black coat.
Feeling very silly to have forgotten he had put is on the table in the scullery, Cas thanked Dean and hung it on its hanger.

Only when he had sufficiently willed his mind back on track, did Cas remember the comment about a gift.
"You got a present? From whom? What is it?" he asked curiously.
Dean walked over to the coffeetable and picked up a bottle.
"This. That guy from the crankshaft was pretty pleased with my work. Wanna warm up a bit?"
Cas smiled at the familiar coloured bottle and the equally familiar label and got some glasses.
Looked like Rufus had been satisfied with Dean's work.