Dean was never a big fan of being zapped from place to place. His human body was hardly created for the strain of it. Sure, it's quicker and cheaper than hours and hours of roadtrip to… wherever they are, and, to be fair, it's over long before Dean can remember he's flying. But the disorientation and the long term effects are far from pleasant.
The whole experience sucked back when Cas was still at full power, it sucks even more now that his wings are in total disarray. And no, it's not about the turbulences or whatever the fuck might be happening on the way that Dean, thank fuck, has no time to perceive. It's about the look in Cas's eyes when their feet hit the ground, the less-than-angelic hunch of his shoulders that Dean never fails to notice.
Never, except for now. But now he can't see a single thing and it's all because of Cas and the stupid band he covered his eyes with and forbid touching. Why Dean even agreed for that, he's not sure, although it might have had something to do with Cas's hardly hidden excitement. So here they are: Dean frozen still in the darkness, holding onto Cas's sleeve, just in case they're floating somewhere on a cloud; Cas probably taking his time to come round so he can keep pretending he's fine.
"Where are we?" Dean breaks the silence that lasts way too long for his liking, but he's patient with the blindfold, not wanting to ruin the surprise.
There's wide space around them, that much he knows from the whistling wind. There's snow under the soles of his boots and in cold air stuck to his face. At least Cas thought to wrap him in a coat and scarf before they left.
"See for yourself."
He doesn't need to see Cas to hear a smile in his voice. The angel's palms land on his face and linger there for longer than necessary, his fingers leave Dean's skin in flames where they brush, before reaching to knot behind Dean's head.
The first thing Dean sees is that gentle smile and eyes, wide and blue, staring at him. Then there's the white spatter of snowflakes in Cas's dark hair. Counterproductive though it might be, Dean can't help himself from reaching up to it to brush the snow away, but Cas grasps his palm before he can do it.
"There," he reminds him, nodding to the right.
Dean's eyes follow Cas's, sliding across the distant horizon, then down and-
"Whoah!"
There's nothing but the sky and whiteness and empty spaces, like they're stuck in the middle of nothing. Then, down below and far, far away, the orange of rocks peek out from under the white cover of snow, but the bounds of air between them and the world takes Dean's breath away.
It's unnerving, a little, when he turns around, three hundred and sixty degrees, and there's no way out from their lone peak in the middle of the Grand Canyon. But dear God, is it beautiful.
"You like it?"
Cas's whisper sounds almost blasphemous in the primordial silence of the place.
"It's fucking awesome, Cas."
It's a lot to take in. It's so much better than pictures, so much better than he could ever imagine. And their location that any tourist would envy, amplifies the experience to the point of mindblowing. Something inside him tells Dean he doesn't ever want to leave here. Not even the cold he can feel anymore.
He's not sure how long he stares into the bright space, before he turns to the angel's brighter face.
"How'd you know? You knew, right?"
"That you've never been here?" Cas grins, closing the distance between them. "Despite that pesky retcon," he adds quieter, shaking his head.
"Pesky what?"
"Or that you wanted to come here when everything's over?" Cas continues, ignoring his question completely and Dean doesn't mind. He'll ask him later.
For now he'll let the contrast between their closeness and the distance from the rest of the world occupy his mind solely. It's like they're the only people in the world and whatever they'll do now it's theirs, only theirs.
"Both."
It's too cold for kissing, but Dean doesn't care. Cas's lips are warm and his embrace firm. It's chaste, merely symbolic, but it means so much. Here and now in their sacred seclusion, it means everything.
"Happy Birthday, Dean," Cas's lips whisper into Dean's before they part.
"Thanks." Dean turns around, to make sure they're still there. "You fucking rock, Cas, you know that?"
Losing Cas's touch feels alien, like it's been there always. Dean makes his footprints on the untouched snow as he treads towards the edge and halts when Cas doesn't follow.
"You don't plan to jump, do you?" Cas tilts his head, his expression showing a hint of worry. "It's rather slippery."
Dean shakes his head. He's still a few feet away from the edge, he just needs to take a peek all the way down. No, it's not a deathwish. For the first time in a long while, he feels alive.
He outstretches his freezing palm out for Cas to grab it.
"You'll catch me, right?"
A small sigh escapes Cas's mouth. It's a huge thing for Dean to ask him of that and he's glad Cas doesn't make him wait and come to hate his mouth for speaking.
Cas's grab is strong, promising to never let go.
"I'll catch you."