Clipped Wings

[TEN] Snowfall

"I can't believe it's snowing again," Cas murmured, peering out the window. He set his warm mug of hot chocolate on the window sill, peering out onto the street and watching the snow fall slow and heavy.

"That's New York for ya," Dean responded, coming out of the kitchen with his own mug. He flicked off the lights on his way to Cas, allowing only the street lights from outside to illuminate the room.

Dean set his mug beside Cas's and smiled to himself. He let Cas burrow one of his sweatshirts that said "Singer Auto" on the front. Cas insisted that he wore his trench coat and suit again after Dean washed them, but Dean convinced him that wearing a sweatshirt would be more comfortable.

"What's God like?" Dean found himself asking.

Cas glanced at him and smiled. "He's just like any other father, surprisingly. I've only met him a couple times, but he's good. Someone Angels— and humans— can look up too."

"Hmm," Dean hummed, thinking of his own father. He's already forgotten what he was like before his mom died. What John Winchester was like before he obsessed over impossible things. Even though those "impossible" things ended up being true. Dean drew in a deep breath.

"Your father was a good man," Cas insured, setting his hand on Dean's arm.

"I'm sure he was," Dean whispered, watching a car drive down the snow covered street.

They were silent for a moment. Both feeling warm and happy, which neither of them have felt in a long time. Cas let his hand fall to his side and hummed to himself.

"What did you say to me," Dean began, softly. "The other day... when we were in the kitchen and you were telling me that you spoke Enochian?"

Cas blushed and hoped the darkness of the room shadowed his face enough from Dean. It didn't.

Cas stared out the window, the smallest smile forming on his lips. "I said, PARACAHE A ROR, PAR BOLAPE TURBS. Which roughly translates to "like the sun, he is beautiful."

Dean's lips parted in awe. "I thought it wasn't a romantic language."

"I guess I don't always follow the rules," Cas whispered, tearing his eyes away from the falling snow and gazing up at Dean. Both were equally as beautiful.

Dean closed his eyes and smiled when Cas's hand found his own. They intertwined their fingers and together, they watched the snow gather below. Eventually, Dean led Cas to the kitchen by his delicate fingers. They both blushed when Dean took a moment to brush the back of his hand across Cas's cheek and down under his chin. Dean let himself slowly drag his fingers across Cas's thin collar bone, over his shoulder, and settled his hand at his hip. Cas felt his eyes flutter shut and it was the first time Dean ever thought about kissing him. How messed up and magical would it be to kiss an angel? Dean felt too sleepy to think about it.

He decided to abandon the thought for another day and retrieved the small radio from on top of the fridge.

They kept the lights off, the curtains open and the music down low and watched the snow fall. They sat together on the almost too stiff sofa, hand in hand with Castiel's head resting on Dean's shoulder. The warmness and bubbly safe feeling it brought caused both their eyes to droop shut.

"Merry Christmas," Dean whispered into the angel's hair. He fell asleep listening to Cas's soft snoring.

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Short and sweet <3
*Soft and Fluffy Christmas Vibes*