Dean and Castiel sat side by side on the hood of the Impala.
Not much of the sky could be seen, thanks to the proliferation of street lamps and tallish buildings with bright lights and smoke from cigarettes and forest fires. The air smelled like wet asphalt and burning wood. Dean tapped his beer bottle against his knee, and watched cars on the freeway blur past.
"Dean."
Dean turned his eyes to Castiel. "Yeah, Cas?" He swilled his beer. Listened to an owl hoot.
"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you." Castiel looked down at his hands, palms upturned. "It seems like every time I try to do something you disapprove of, I break something." He smiled, and it was bitter.
Dean sighed. "Just bad luck, man." He nudged at Castiel with his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. "We've all done stupid things, and I was kind of a jerk to you before... all of this. So... Let's call it good." He stuck his hand out, with his palm facing the sky.
Castiel reached out, and wrapped his fingers around Dean's. "Alright." He focused on Dean's green eyes. "It's good. All of it."
"Everything between us—water under the bridge. Dust in the wind." Dean winked.
Castiel almost laughed. "Dust in the wind."
