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Castiel has seen snow too many times to count. He's an angel after all; and an angel cannot go millennia without ever coming across winter.
So it isn't new when he steps heavily on the white-coated floor. What's new is the fact that this time, he's not alone.
He's staring at the dark silhouette around his snow boots when he notices a similar pair denting the snow beside his own feet. He takes a moment to appreciate the two sets of footprints marked side by side before looking up. When he does, there's a pair of green eyes already staring at him.
'Hello, Dean.'
Dean's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles softly at Cas. He's wearing a black beanie that Claire gave him for Christmas, but his hair is a little longer now, so it peeks a little through the sides of the hat. His nose is adorably red from the cold. Cas wants to kiss it.
'Hey, Cas. Whatcha doing outside? It's freezing.'
Cas smiles to himself. He's learned to grow fond of the fact that Dean's always worried about everyone but himself, because getting frustrated about it never helps. So when he notices him rubbing his hands together, instead of saying anything, he takes them between his own, warming them up.
Dean blushes a little, but it's barely noticeable underneath his already reddened skin. 'Heh. I forgot, you're an angel. You don't get cold, do you? Like a human heater.' He's smiling more widely now, staring at their joined hands.
Cas traces Dean's profile with his eyes and chuckles softly. 'Yes, you could say that.'
They let the sound of the wind take over for a while, enjoying each other's presence. It's nice to know they don't have anywhere important to be right now. No monsters to hunt, no world to save. Just them and the snow beneath them, crisp and shining.
After a while, Dean speaks again. 'You know, I haven't felt this at peace since I was like three.' He laughs a little at his own admission.
Cas laughs along with him, then takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air entering his lungs, before saying what he wants to say. 'It's nice, isn't it? The snow. I've always liked the way it makes everything look... smooth. Like a blanket laid over the ground. It's almost like the earth is sleeping.'
Dean slides his hands, which are considerably warmer now, out of Cas' grip, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he laces his fingers with Cas'. He looks at the angel, and Cas notices how his eyes look greener in contrast with all the white around them.
'You've always been quite a poet, Cas', Dean says with a fond smile.
Cas is too busy staring at Dean to answer, transfixed by the way his face is so full of joy and peace, surprised that he gets to see him this way, without the weight of the world on his shoulders and without the usual weariness of his expression.
He's so lost in his own thoughts that it takes him a little bit too long to notice that Dean is pulling him closer, until he can feel Dean's hair grazing his forehead. Dean's eyes are asking him a question, and he doesn't take long to answer. He pushes their lips together softly, hoping he's given Dean the right answer.
Apparently he has, because the next moment Dean responds with his own press of lips, and Cas feels them getting warmer against his own, and he squeezes Dean's hands where they are still holding his own, kissing him with more conviction.
Eventually, they pull apart.
'I've wanted to do that for so long', says Dean, a little breathlessly.
Cas smiles so widely he feels like it hurts.