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Mauna Kea

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Compared to the rest of the islands, Mauna Kea is goddamn cold. Sam dredges up some facts about the climate from his giant Wikipedia brain, and 50 degrees really isn't that bad, all considered, but there is snow on the ground in Hawaii. He turns to Sam, who huddles in his light jacket, and says, “this blows."

Sam rolls his eyes. “So? Fix it."

Ignoring Sam, he turns to where Cas stands apart from them, head tilted back and eyes on the sky. He looks every bit the cold, distant angel he used to be, bathed in starlight and standing tall on the frozen ground. But then he turns his face slightly and the smile he gives Dean is pure warmth. 

"See anything cool, Cas?" He asks, breathless, fingers curling helplessly against his palms. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal and still somehow managed to bag the masterpiece of all creation? It’s like the greatest joke in the history of the universe with the suckiest punchline.

Cas has managed to figure out that ‘cool’ means ‘awesome’ means ‘good’, and so he lifts his arm and gestures gracefully at the expanse of stars that stretches out for miles. It is pretty cool. The sky looked exactly like this centuries ago on a beach that would someday be the equivalent of Jesus’s tombstone. 

"Angels do not have an appreciation for the stars of other places," Cas says, eyes back upstairs. “We know what they are."

"The element of wonder is gone," Sam says and nods like he understands, which is such bullshit. He still gets excited when he sees the moon out during the day. 

Cas leaves his little plot of land and comes to stand next to Dean. “The element of wonder was never there to begin with. I can name every single world beyond this one and never need to speculate; but here, on this world with its people, I look at the sky and can’t help but marvel."

Then he drops his chin, turns to them, and fixes Dean with an enigmatic smile. “It is better to appreciate them from afar. Not knowing is more… fun."

He knows. Cas knows that Dean’s not in charge anymore, that Raguel's taken up that racket. But instead of blabbing (which is awesome, because he plans on telling Sam when it’s just the two of them so Sam can throw a bitchfit in private), Cas turns back to the sky with his dumb little smile that Dean wants to taste, and points. 


Above, the sky is alive, streams of light rocketing across the black like the coolest laser show ever. 

Sam whistles at the meteor shower, appreciative. “Dean, is that you?"

"Nope," Dean says, grinning up, his fingers tangling with Cas’s. “Not me at all."