“Dean, why do you hang out with me?”
Castiel stares listlessly off into space, finding nothing as per usual. He kicks his legs, though, as Dean pushes him on his swing. It’s warm today; maybe the flowers are blooming, if the scent in the air is anything to go by.
“Because,” Dean says. “You’re fucking awesome, Cas.” He grunts as he pushes the swing again, and Castiel can feel him running under the swing, followed by delighted chortles and the sound of rustling leaves. “And you’re really light, so I can run right under you.”
He feels his lips pull into a smile but he waits until the swing stops to reach up and touch it. They’re soft, but chapped. After a moment, he lets his hand fall to his lap and he glances in what he hopes is Dean’s direction.
“What does my smile look like?”
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