❄️First Snow❄️

❄️First Snow❄️

The park is quiet. Snow falls like someone turned the world’s volume down. The pine trees stand tall and still, dusted in white, and the old wooden bench creaks slightly beneath them. Dean shifts in his coat, pretending not to notice how close Cas is sitting. Cas, of course, doesn’t notice subtle things like “personal space.” Or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. Dean’s fingers twitch beside Cas’s hand. He could say something. He could lean in. He could— Cas does it first. No warning, no angelic prelude. Just a soft press of lips, gentle and certain, like he’s known this was coming for years (because he has). Dean freezes for half a second — then kisses back, eyes fluttering closed, one hand finding Cas’s knee like he needs to anchor himself. They pull apart slowly, and Cas tilts his head like he’s analyzing Dean’s soul again. “That was acceptable?” Dean laughs, low and a little breathless. “Yeah, Cas. That was real damn acceptable.” They sit like that for a while — coats brushing, knees touching, hands loosely tangled on the bench that’s definitely too cold to sit on, but suddenly feels like the warmest place in the world. Somewhere in the distance, a car honks. The moment doesn’t break. Because for once, there's nothing chasing them. No apocalypse. No monsters. Just this. Snow, quiet. Them. And a kiss that finally, finally happened.

💙💚💙💚💙💚

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