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2020-11-05
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828
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Snow Angels

Summary:

A/N:  Comment fic prompt - Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, Cas doesn't understand the point of snow angels...

Work Text:

 
Snow Angels
by Sam-Tony

 Dean loved watching kids.  Hell, the way he had it figured, they were the one thing he wasn't going to be allowed to have and one of the many he had never gotten to be, so sitting on the park bench, watching the little demons play, all bundled up in a zillion layers of parkas was about as good as it got.
 
Swings, slide, the glittering fall of snowball fights that never quite landed anywhere near the actual inhabitants of that battle...yeah, *that* was the way life was supposed to be.
 
"What is that?"
 
Cue the angel, right on time, thanks for that, Cas.
 
"It's a snow angel."  Dean told him in a voice that more than asked, 'isn't that obvious?'.
 
"Clearly,"  Castiel deadpanned, agreeing, though the raised eyebrow said anything but.  "But what is the point of...snow angels?"
 
And here cometh the crashing in of his real world.
 
"Hell, I dunno, Cas,"  Dean shrugged.  Raising his eyes from the child-sized outline in the snow to the kid herself as she ran squealing into the open arms of her mom, he resolutely refused to let Cas ruin his good mood.  Squitng up into the sun at the angel standing at his shoulder, Dean grinned as he admitted as if with a gleeful secret,  "Chance for otherwise sane adults to play in the snow?"
 
Castiel clearly was unimpressed.  "I don't see any adult sized angels."
 
And damn but if that wasn't an invitation he didn't know what would be.
 
"You know, you're right.  Come on."
 
Jumping up from the bench, he led the angel back to the little motel he and Sammy had booked before the storm had rolled through last night.  A second thought for his reputation had him ducking around the side and then to the back where the row of rooms butted up against a stand of dark, snow-covered evergreens.   Sinking to almost mid-calf in the snow, Dean grinned.  Yeah, this would work.
 
"What are we doing here, Dean?"
 
"Getting the adults in the game."
 
"What...game?  There is a game I've missed?"
 
Oh definitely.
 
"Well, *yeah*."  Dean huffed out a grin and tried not to bang his head against the back wall at the vague look on the angel's face; lost and looking for a clue.  "C'mon, Cas, whaddaya say?  Wanna make a snow angel with me?"
 
And whoa didn't that sound a lot pornier than it had inside his own head?
 
"I *am* an angel, Dean  And I have never looked like that, not even in the snow."
 
"Yeah?  You saw the little girl, right?  Ten bucks says we make the exact same angel,"  Dean challenged, already laying in the snow and waving his arms and legs in case the angel decided to deny they had a bet in the first place.  Damn that was cold.  Jacket and jeans did not snow clothes make.
 
Careful to ease up out of his spot, Dean took the bewildered hand Cas offered and stepped to the side.  Not bad.  Not bad at all.  "Hah!  Your turn - beat that!"
 
"Fine, I shall...beat that."
 
Again with the porny today.  Like that was a thought Dean particularly needed in his head when dealing with an angel who was about to get all cold, wet and snow covered...
 
And when Cas lay down and made his own snow angel beside Dean, arms and legs an awkward, conscious copy of Dean's, damned if it didn't have actual *wings* spread out to the side.   Offering Cas a return hand up, Dean crouched low, making sure not to disturb the pattern as he examined them; each individual feather, pristine and outlined with an edge of ice that glittered silver in the sun.
 
"Huh."
 
"The point, Dean,"  Castiel leaned in close for a moment with a hand on his shoulder as he told him, voice more than a bit smug, despite the faint undertone of a lesson to be learned here.  "Is that humans need a way to communicate with God.  And that you seek us out more than you think."
 
Of course when Castiel walked away there was no trace of snow on him anywhere, not the trench coat he wore and not in his hair, the angel completely and perfectly composed and dry while Dean stood there wet and covered in snow and beginning to shiver while watching him go.
 
And of *course* movement at the nearest back window of the motel showed Sam just as his brother dropped the curtain, shaking his head on Dean who would rather be out in the cold playing snow angels *with* an angel instead of in a warm, dry motel like any sane person would be.
 
Cheeks tingling and rosy, nose and fingers frozen, and his entire backside numb and wet, Dean Winchester looked back in the direction Cas had gone and found himself grinning from ear to ear before dropping back down on the other side of Cas's 'angel' and trying to make a better one for himself.
 
Well, *duh*.
 

End