Dean pulled his leather gloves on as he got out of the Impala. Snow fell heavily, and there was already four inches on the ground. He looked at his brother, who was pulling a toboggan over his ears.
"Are you ready for this?" Dean asked darkly.
Sam took a deep breath and gave a nod. "Yeah, I think so."
Dean nodded at the bushes on the side of the building. "Take the bushes. I'll get behind the junkers. And make sure when you take your shots, you aim perfectly. I don't want you hitting my baby."
"Got it," nodded Sam, heading for the bushes and hunkering down.
"Wait for my signal," Dean reminded him before heading for the junker cars in the lot.
He stocked up on ammunition slowly and surely, his weapons fine-tuned to perfection as the boys laid in wait. Finally, after several long, agonizing minutes, snow and gravel crunched under someone's feet. Dean looked at Sam, who nodded; their target was in site.
Dean took a deep breath and held up three fingers. He counted down from three, and yelled, "Now, Sammy!"
Dean stood, armfuls of perfectly round balls of snow at the ready as he tossed the first three in rapid succession. Another three came from Sam's direction, all six hitting their target.
Castiel stumbled back at the force of the snowballs, startled. He frowned, looking down at his chest, where wet, freezing ice crystals clung to the front of his trench coat.
"What – what is this?" the angel frowned, only to be hit by two more snowballs.
Castiel brought his eyes and glared into Sam's. The younger Winchester made an "Oh crap" face and ducked back behind the bushes.
Yet another snowball sailed through the air, slamming into Castiel's face, and Dean fell backwards, rolling in laughter.
"I don't understand," Castiel sighed, wiping snow from his face. "Why are you pelting me with snow?"
"Big finish, Sammy!" Dean called.
Dean and Sam each picked up the heaviest, biggest snowball they could manage to make. They heaved them back and sent them hurling towards Castiel. One caught him in the left shoulder, the other in the right, knocking him backwards.
Sam and Dean laughed, jumping from their hiding spots and high fiving as Castiel fumbled to brush the snow from himself.
The front door to the house opened, and Bobby limped out onto the porch, the weather making his bones stiff.
"This is how you idjits are spendin' the apocalypse?" He called. "Having snowball fights with angels?"
"Come on, Bobby, we don't have any leads," Dean said, still grinning as the annoyed Castiel joined the boys. "We gotta do something."
"Well, how about you and Mr. Heavenly Spirit there go and gather some firewood that we can dry out," Bobby said. "It's gonna be bitter-ass cold tonight. Sam, get in here. I have Rufus on the phone, he might have something."
Sam nodded and followed his surrogate father.
"Ah, well, come on Cas," Dean said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Let's go be woodsman."
"Dean, we have some very serious matters to attend to," Castiel said. "Lucifer is gaining more followers each day, he's become more powerful."
"Come on, Cas," Dean said again. "I need like three days off from this Apocalypse Now crap!"
"Dean –"
"Have you ever thrown a snowball, Cas?"
"What?"
"A snowball. Have you ever even made one?"
Castiel frowned. "Of course not."
Dean reached down, gathering some snow in his gloved hand and demonstrated, creating a rounded ball. He drew his arm back and hurled it at a tree.
"Try it," Dean said.
"Dean . . ."
Dean gathered more snow in his hand, and then put it into Castiel's bare hands. "Now make it into a ball," Dean instructed.
Castiel simply frowned at the snow.
Dean sighed, and wrapped his own hands around Castiel's, helping him to form the round shape.
"There," Dean said, taking Cas by the shoulders and turning him to face a tree. "Now throw."
Frowning, Castiel drew his arm back, tossing the ball at the tree. It slammed into the tree with enough force to make some bark split from the tree and fly through the air.
Dean looked impressed. "Huh."
"How was that?" Cas asked uncertainly.
"I mean, fine," Dean said, shrugging and walking back towards the woods, obviously jealous of the angels superior snowballing power. "For the first time, I guess. I mean, there's no reason to show off or anything . . ." he stopped when he felt some cold and wet hit him in the back of the head. Slowly, he reached his hand up, touching the snow that was now dripping from the back of his head. He turned, glaring in disbelief at the smirking angel.
"And that?" Castiel asked innocently. "How was that?"
He was shocked as Dean suddenly rushed forward, grabbing the angel around the waist and tackling him to the ground.
Dean gathered fistfuls of snow and proceeded to shove them on the angels face. Castiel flailed hopelessly before locking one leg behind Dean's knees and rolling them over in a wrestling flurry of limbs and snow.
As Castiel scrambled up, Dean stayed down, and Castiel frowned, straightening his tie. "Dean, now what are you doing?"
Dean started moving his arms and legs. "Making a snow angel, dumbass."
"A snow angel?" Dean stood, and Castiel stared down at the marks left in the snow. He frowned. "That bears no resemblance to me."
"Sure it does," Dean said. He pointed. "There, see, it looks like it's wearing a long coat. And look, there's the stick stuck up its ass." With a playful shove, he started back for the woods again, only to stop when he heard a thumping noise.
Castiel had fallen backwards into the snow and was now making an angel of his own. When he finished, he stood and looked down at it. He looked disappointed.
"I just don't see the resemblance."
"Hey, it's alright," Dean said, slinging his arm around the real angel. "I like you better anyhow." He brightened. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you up." He dropped to his knees, and started rolling snow.
"What are you doing?" Cas frowned.
"Just follow my lead."
Soon they had three large balls of snow. Dean stacked them on top of each other, then leaned down and dug under the snow to find large pieces of gravel and made two eyes and a frown.
"Why is he frowning?" Castiel asked.
"Because you don't know how to smile," replied Dean.
"That's not true," said Castiel, and he tried to force a small smile.
"No, don't do that," Dean said, laughing. He frowned at the snowman. "It's missing something." He reached around Castiel's tie and pulled it off before tying it back around the snowman. "There, a perfect Cas-man."
"Can I have my tie back?"
Dean gave a bark of laughter. "Would you lighten up?"
"What does my mass have to do with –?"
"Jesus, Cas, do you ever shut up?" Dean asked, shaking his head and grabbing the front of Castiel's trench coat and pulling him against him, pressing his lips to the angels. Cas stiffened in surprise, not sure how to reply, but continued to allow Dean to explore his mouth with his own.
"Cas," Dean said as he pulled away, smirking. "You're smiling."
"Am I?"
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that was your first."
"That was my, ahem, first display of affection in that particular manner," Castiel admitted, his face flushing a bright pink.
Dean laughed and headed for the woods. Bobby and Sam would be looking for them soon.
"Dean?" Castiel frowned, clearing his throat, before chasing after the hunter. "Dean, can we do that again?"
Bobby and Sam stood at the window in almost the exact same stance; arms crossed, legs relaxed, and amused grins on their faces.
"Poor bastards have no idea we can see them," Sam remarked, sipping his coffee.
"Nope," Bobby said, drinking his own coffee. "Dumb sonsabitches."
"At least they're happy."
"Yeah. But the second they need couples counseling, it's your problem," Bobby said, shaking his head as he headed for the kitchen to dump some whiskey in his coffee.