Meg sets down her glass and plops down next to Castiel, mildly content with having regained the control of the remote. For the moment, at least. They've got an estimate of ten minutes remaining before Ava rushes to tell on Elijah for being mean to her, or Elijah complaining his sister's snatching his toys.
If it was up to her, she'd sacrifice the grown-up TV time for another hour or five of peace. She still curses the day when Castiel stumbled upon a parenting article saying children shouldn't spend more than an hour in front of the screen — after that, he just wouldn't believe her assurances that they'll be fine if they watch one more cartoon.
A quick patter of small feet against the wooden floor resounds from the corridor. Less than ten minutes, then, Meg notes, casting a glance over her shoulder, at her baby girl sprinting into the room. Her eyes are wide, movements rapid. Her palm reaches out to tag at Meg's sleeve.
"Mom, is there snow?" Ava asks, or rather spits out the words all at once.
Meg glances up to the window, just in case there's something going on she doesn't know about, but no, as it's to be expected, it's not snowing. It never does this far south.
"No, baby, there's no snow," she says.
It's not what Ava wanted to hear — she furrows her brow, purses her lips, and for a moment Meg's afraid there might be tears welling in her eyes. Beside Meg, Cas shifts in his seat. Before he can say anything, Meg lands a palm on his knee. She's got it.
She leans closer to level with Ava and explains, "It's too warm for snow, here."
"Oh." Ava pauses to consider her words. The worry disappears from her face. "But it's real?" she makes sure, quietly.
"Of course snow is real," Meg says, hiding her amusement at the sweet, silly question. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where she got the idea from. "Did Eli tell you snow's not real?"
Ava nods slowly.
Meg takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. She fights off the urge to call Elijah. That's just something kids do, isn't it? Siblings, especially. She should know; her little sister was always the most gullible thing. She'd believe just about anything if only Meg said it was so.
Now or a millennium ago: some things just don't change.
"Eli was just joking," Meg explains, raking her fingers through Ava's hair.
"It's not funny." She puckers her cheeks and shakes her little fists toward the corridor. "Eli, you butt!"
There comes a giggle from behind the door frame. It's followed by a mess of dark hair and a grinning face peeking into the room.
"It was pretty funny!" Eli counters, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. He looks at his sister, who's still ostensibly pouting, and his cheeky grin turns empathetic. He shrugs. "I've never seen snow, either."
"I want to see snow!" Ava turns to her parents. "Why can't I?"
"Ask your father," Meg mutters before she can stop herself.
The southern heat's been really cramping her style since she's human. Black leather and scorching sun don't mix well. But then, at least Castiel working shirtless in the garden makes the suffering worth it.
Ava doesn't miss her words. She narrows her eyes at Castiel.
"Daddy? Can we have snow?"
Castiel opens his mouth with distress painted on his brow. But he mitigates fast, a fabulous idea flashes bright like a light bulb over his head.
"Maybe we could go to Minnesota next Christmas?" Castiel offers. He glances at Meg for approval that she grants him if only because next Christmas is almost a year away.
Eli's got the same thought on his mind and a little less patience for it. He throws his head back to glare dramatically at the ceiling.
"Ugh, that's so long, dad," he complains. Next moment, his palm lands on his sister's shoulder. "I'll show you."
Meg bites her lip with interest, as she watches Eli walk over to the table and take her glass of water from it. He takes a few steps back like he's taking his place at the center of the stage, glass held firmly with both his hands. He breathes in and out, slowly, focusing all his attention on water until it begins to steam.
"Eli!" Castiel shoots forward, concern in his voice.
But Eli doesn't even flinch, his grip still tight around the heating glass.
"He's okay." Meg reaches out to stop Castiel from trying to save him. "Let's see this."
She can feel his glare on the side of her head, but it subsides when a content smile blooms on Eli's face, half obscured by white clouds of steam. Beside the sofa, Ava wiggles on her toes, palms covering her mouth.
Her brother sets the empty glass aside, condensation already trailing down its sides. He shifts his attention to the steam now, sinks his hands into it. It seems to be coming to him with even more ease.
A wisp of chill air brushes the tips of Meg's fingers, a stark difference to where the damp warmth used to be. Before Elijah, the steam thickens and swirls. It spits out a tiny white drop that flutters gently and slides on the air down to the floor. Right behind it, there's another and another and a whole tuft of white flakes falls out of the cloud.
"He can do that," Meg whispers, more as a statement than a question.
Castiel tips his head to the side, intrigued rather than surprised. "After all, heat is nothing more than a transfer of energy."
Meg rolls her eyes but says nothing. She doesn't want any more distractions from the show she's witnessing.
Not taking his eyes off the cloud that's no longer steam but snow, he waves his fingers, sending a whirl of snowflakes toward his little sister, inviting her closer. Ava reaches out to catch it with her palms. The understanding of what she sees brightens her face.
"Snow," he whispers so quietly as if she's afraid it'll disappear, disturbed.
"Come on, Ava," Eli encourages, lifting the abundance of snowflakes and letting it fall in a small blizzard, turning the center of their living room into a snow globe. "Do you like it?"
"I love it!" Ava squeaks, rushing right into the heaviest fall. She throws her hands up and spins around like a princess transported into a winter wonderland. "Do more!"
"Hm." Eli scratches his chin. "We're gonna need more water—"
"I think this is enough snow for one living room," Meg chimes in before the imagination can carry her kids too far. "It's amazing, Eli."
Eli grins at her and blows a little snow her way. She closes her eyes, letting the snowflakes land on her face. Castiel leans in, gently runs fingers through her hair, to catch out the white contrasting in her black locks.
"It is incredible," Castiel says under his breath so that only she can hear him. He leaves out the unnerving questions they are both thinking. If he can do this, what else can he do? What else will he be able to do when he's older? And worse yet, what will he choose to do? "How did you learn to do it?" he asks instead.
Eli shrugs. "They said where snow comes from on the TV. So I tried."
"On the TV," Castiel echoes his words pointedly at Meg, but she's got her retort ready.
"See? It's educational," she teases, flashing him a smile before turning around just to wiggle herself closer to him. She leans back against him to sink into his embrace. Her palm finds his and she squeezes it reassuringly before Castiel's thoughts can get consumed by dark, stormy clouds. "He's gonna be fine. We'll be fine."
The sit quietly for a while, letting their children's laughter envelop them like the whirlpools of snow envelop the kids. Ava's dancing to her made up rhythm, Elijah makes sure the snow never reaches the floor and melts away.
Their own tiny winter wonderland in a living room.
"Yeah." Castiel presses his lips to Meg's hair. "You're right. We'll be just fine."