Castiel telling you that you are the most
beautiful thing he has ever seen (ft. the Winchesters).
(not my GIF)
You watched Dean’s lower lip twitch in the faint light, envying his serene expression and easy slumber. It seemed he could turn the mess that was a bad hunt off like a light switch - the gore, the fear, the failure. You could hardly blink without picturing the bloody disaster.
Sam whistled under his breath, “Nice one!”
You rolled your head toward the younger Winchester. “Missed it.” Frowning, your gaze turned back to the sky. It was the peak of the annual Orionid meteor shower on a perfect fall night and you could hardly focus on an event that usually brought you joy.
Sam knowingly squeezed your knee. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
You rested your hand on his arm in acknowledgment. Sam understood the blame game - he played it almost as frequently as you.
Dean mumbled something mostly incoherent about clown noses and began to snore lightly.
You stared at Sam, biting your lip, catching an amused twinkle in his eyes, unable to stifle your laugh.
“It’s the big red shoes, what?” Dean bolted awake, uncrossing his arms, warily blinking at you and Sam. “Did I miss it?”
“The circus?” You arched an eyebrow askance.
“What? No!” Dean’s lip curled up in confusion. “The shooting stars. What circus?”
Your ears perked up at the familiar flutter of angel wings.