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Dean was almost done with his rounds when he noticed the golden glow of light filtering through the leaves of the cherry trees in the university botanical gardens. It was a mild Thursday night just before spring bloomed into summer and although opening hours had been extended, nobody was supposed to be in the greenhouses after ten pm. Now, it was after eleven already and Dean really just wanted to get to the groundkeeper’s lounge and ring Sam up for their weekly check-in call. The kid being all the way in California still didn’t sit right with Dean, but if you scored a scholarship to cover the frankly insane law school expenses, well, who would say no to that? And Charlie had graciously volunteered to show him the ropes of Skyping, so he was all set and ready to go.
If it hadn’t been for the light in Greenhouse B4.
Grumbling, Dean made his way along the cobbled path lined by summer lilac, which was just beginning to sprout out pale purple buds and filling the air with its soft, sweet scent. Dean knew the gardens better than the palm of his hand since he had spent most of his childhood summers exploring them with Sam and once they’d moved in with Ellen, Bobby, Ash and Jo, it practically became their backyard. Living just on the corner where the apple orchard met the conifer enclosure gave them an ideal place for playing hide-and-seek. Dean couldn’t remember a time when Bobby hadn’t been working as the groundkeeper for the local university which specialised in agricultural studies and botany. Therefore it was no surprise that Dean knew more about plants than the average kindergarten teacher - though it did come in handy when he went on excursions with the kids.
It didn’t do him any good, however, when he had to deal with botany students who thought they deserved an exception from the opening hours because exam period was looming close. And all that just because Bobby had a major cold – not that he’d ever admit to it – and Ellen had forced him to stay home and sleep it off. She’d called Dean, because Dean knew Bobby’s rounds, having done them with him more times than he could count, and being scowly and tall enough to scare off any weed-smoking college students hiding in the rhododendron bushes along the outer fences. Of course, Dean had said yes, because Ellen had to hold down the fort at the Roadhouse and, honestly, when had Dean ever said no?
The dim light was coming from the back of the greenhouse, where Dean knew they kept the rarer, specifically insect-related species of plant. A joint botany/entomology student then, maybe? It didn’t really matter, they still weren’t supposed to be out and about in Dean’s territory at this hour.
As a sign of how well Bobby kept everything running around here, the door swung open soundlessly and Dean threaded his way through the tables stacked with pots of plants of all colours and scents until he reached the partition dividing the water-loving ferns and climbing vines from the more dry-kept speciality section. When he rounded the corner, the first thing he noticed was the quiet noise of a low, rumbling voice humming what sounded like Into the Mystic, Dean’s favourite Van Morrison song. The second thing was the guy the voice belonged to. He had his back turned to Dean and seemed completely engrossed in his observation of the shoots of what Dean vaguely recognized as some kind of especially bee-attracting tree.
Dean cleared his throat.
The guy whirled around, one hand pressed to his heart like a southern belle clutching her pearls, his eyes – blue, blue eyes – wide open and startled. His ebony hair was all over the place and he looked older than most students Dean was used to seeing around campus. After the initial shock had worn off, a scowl settled on his sharp features and he stepped closer to Dean in order to see him in the low light.
“What are you doing here?”
Christ, that voice was even deeper than the humming had let on.
“I could ask you the same question, buddy,” Dean replied, somewhat surprised at the attack.
“It is impolite to answer a question with a question,” came the quick-fire reply and Dean felt the corners of his mouth tug up at the snark.
“Hi, my name’s Dean, I’m the groundkeeper for the night and you’re in here after opening hours so I thought I’d kindly ask you to leave. Y’know, so that other people can clock off, too.”
A pink blush made its way up the guy’s face, accentuating his high cheekbones and making his soft, pink lips stand out even more. Focus, Dean.
“Oh – um. I must have lost track of time, my apologies.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek and the motion left a pale smudge of soil behind. “It’s just that I had to repot these bee bee tree shoots or otherwise they would have died and we need them to increase the number of bees in the university gardens because they have dropped to an alarming level in the past year and… you don’t really care about that, do you? My apologies, again.”
It was endearing, really, how the man’s cheeks turned continuously darker and his eyes swept to the side in apparent embarrassment after having held Dean’s gaze all through his animated outburst. That had been quite distracting, actually.
“Nah, man, bees are the bee’s knees.” Dean winked at him and it earned him a low chuckle. “So, what’s your name, trespassing-after-hours stranger?”
“Cas– Castiel.”
“Cas, huh? Well, Cas, I’m all for saving the bees and I gotta admit, it looks kinda cozy in here, but I gotta close up. Them’s the rules.”
It came out almost apologetic and wasn’t that an unexpected turn of events. If Dean had to be honest, he wouldn’t be opposed to spending some more time listening to Cas talk about bee bee trees and their beneficial effect for the local black-and-yellow insect population. It would certainly give him an excuse to try and catalogue the exact shade of blue of Castiel’s eyes. That is if he could convince himself to focus on them long enough instead of on the guy’s ridiculously plush mouth.
“Oh, yes, of course. I’m just going to… What exactly is the time?”
“Quarter past eleven, why?”
Castiel had been packing his writing pad and pens into his messenger bag, but stopped with a resigned sigh. “It appears I have missed the last bus into town. Do you maybe have a phone I could use to call for a taxi?”
Sensing his opportunity, Dean let a slow grin curl up his mouth. “Don’t have my cell phone with me, but there’s a phone at the groundkeeper’s lounge you could use. Or you could just wait with me until my shift ends at twelve and I could give you a lift into town.”
Flustered really was a good look on Castiel.
“No, I couldn’t possibly – I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you more than I already have.”
“Dude, I offered, didn’t I? And how do you know I’m not interested in your insect-saving plans, mm?”
The smile that stole its way onto Cas’s face matched Dean’s and when Cas nodded, Dean knew he had been wildly mistaken about the joy of busting stubborn MA students hanging around greenhouses when they were not supposed to.
*
After Dean had brought Cas around to the Roadhouse, Bobby also stopped asking why Dean had volunteered to take over the Thursday evening shift, throwing a ‘Out of the goodness of my heart, my ass!’ his way.
Dean didn’t mind all that much when he got to kiss the local bee enthusiast in Greenhouse B4 every Thursday night.