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“Dean. Dean. Deeeean. Wake up.”

Dean was suddenly aware of a weight to the right of him dipping his bed, and it took all of his sleepy might not to roll into it. Opening an eye a fraction, he winced as he tried to make out the culprit in the strip of lamplight streaming through the middle of his open curtains. Coulda sworn I closed them…

“Dean!” they said, more clamant than when they had said his name previously.

Instincts kicked in when he realised that there might actually be an important reason his name was being repeated over and over again in an irritatingly insistent manner. He sat up quickly enough to get a head rush and groaned before he asked, “What? Where’s the fire?”

“Why would there be a fire?” that naïve, throaty voice enquired, and then he knew exactly who had woken him.

“I don’t know,” Dean said, his annoyed as hell mood and tone increasing when he glanced at his clock. “Because you woke me up at one am? On a school night?”

“Oh, sorry,” Cas whispered sincerely.

Sighing, Dean laid back down, snuggling back under the covers. “You will be…” he muttered, already drifting off again, uncaring of what Cas had broken into his room to tell him this early. There was probably a flower that looked particularly beautiful in the moonlight, knowing him.

A hand shook his shoulder. “The meteor shower’s tonight,” his friend said, shifting on the bed and jogging Dean from his sleep. “You said you’d drive me to the best spot and watch it with me.”

“That was tonight?” Dean groaned.

“That is tonight,” corrected Cas. “And you promised you’d take me to the hill overlooking the town and watch with me.”

“I did, didn’t I.”

“You did.”

“Alright, I’ll take you” - Cas beamed and bounced up and down in excitement, squeaking the bed springs - “but – stop that! Yeah, anyway, I’ll take you, you big geek, but I’m having another couple’a minutes shut-eye, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean grunted and turned on the spot, facing away from the bright orange light coming from his (open?) window, and settled into the warmth the hot water bottle his mother had made for him had left. He wasn’t ashamed at how much of a Momma’s boy he was. His bed protested as Cas made himself comfortable atop the sheets, and Dean welcomed the noise as well as the heat coming from his friend. Humming contentedly, he then frowned when a question on his mind wouldn’t rest.

“How’d you even get in?”

“Through the window,” said Cas nonchalantly, as though he didn’t have to scale a tree and then climb the uneven bricks of his house to the trellis, then up that, and then open a locked window and somehow crawl around the screen without waking anyone.

“You’re so hardcore, man,” Dean murmured, impressed. “And hardly anyone knows it.”

“I’m fairly sure they do. But while you call me hardcore, they call me ‘Crazy Castiel’.”

Dean rolled over, pulling on the covers enough to jostle his friend, who had been peacefully gazing at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, unaffected by the words that had just fallen out of his mouth. But just because Cas was unaffected, didn’t mean Dean had to be.

The lines between his eyebrows deepened as he grumbled, “I hate it when they call you that. You’re not crazy, you’re just…different. They don’t know what they’re missin’ out on. ‘Crazy Castiel’…Imma beat their asses. They’re just jealous ‘cause they’re not as smart as you, or as awesome, or as funny, or as good-looking, or as bad-ass, or as sweet, or as…I should just stop talking, shouldn’t I?”

Cas smiled almost imperceptibly. “No, please, go on.”

“Shut up.”

“You think I’m good-looking?” Cas said, breaking the weirdly comfortable silence that had fallen.

Scoffing, Dean retorted, “Come on, Cas, you know you’re good-looking.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, apparently bewildered.

And that’s what makes you beautiful!” Dean quietly sung, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.

“One Direction? Dean, I would call you a dark horse if I understood the metaphor.”

Dean quietly laughed, happy his friend hadn’t dwelled on the word vomit he had spewed, and sat up to rest against the headboard, taking his hot water bottle with him and hugging it against his chest.

Noticing the warmth emanating from Dean’s torso, Cas frowned and worried, “Are you ill?”

“No, I just…I just needed it.”

“You like sleeping with something warm.”

Cas stated it with such confidence and knowing that it made the warmth rush to Dean’s face. He would never understand how Cas could do that, how Cas could just read him and be so sure of who Dean was when he was still figuring it out for himself. After all, they were only seventeen, who knew who they were and what their place was in the world at that age? Cas did, and he knew everything about everyone else. He was far wiser than his years.

“If I could, I would buy you a hot water body pillow. I think you would be happier with something warm and soft and big enough to fill the empty side of your bed.”

It’s not empty now, sang a voice in Dean’s head.

“You implyin’ I’m not happy?” he asked defensively.

Bright eyes pinned him. “Not at all.”

"Good," he muttered in reply. "Now, let’s go watch those meteors!"

Cas’s face broke out in another beam. The bed squeaked as they hopped out of it, and as Dean made for his jacket on the back of the door, he noticed his friend secretly placing his hot water bottle on the side that Dean didn’t sleep on. With soft eyes, he shrugged on the cool leather and threw a coat over to Cas. It wasn’t Castiel’s usual tan trenchcoat, no, that was hanging up on the back of Cas’s own door, but it was one that Cas liked to keep at the Winchesters’ just in case he forgot his, which had happened tonight in his excitement to see the meteor shower with his best friend.

He followed Dean out the bedroom door, and stopped when Dean paused outside Sam’s room and asked, “We invitin’ the geek?”

Nervously, Cas shook his head and swallowed. “Um, no. I was rather hoping that…that it could be just us.”

"Alright." Dean gave a tiny nod and an equally tiny smile. "He’s probably settin’ up his telescope anyway."

With an apologetic glance at Sam’s door, Cas continued on behind Dean, who headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where they found two brown paper bags with their names written on them in Mary Winchester’s careful hand, as well as a note telling them to have fun but don’t stay out too late, you boys both have school in the morning!’

"PB and J…" Cas whispered when he opened the bag. Looking up at Dean in awe, he said, "Your mother is a wonderful woman."

"Preachin’ to the choir, man." Smirking and swiping his bag off the counter, Dean made for the door, with Cas a step behind.

The best spot that they had spoken of was on a grassy hill overlooking the town. The stars may have twinkled above them, but the small dots of light shining from the windows of houses and buildings were a sight to see all on their own. Dean and Cas had been there many times, mostly after Dean was given full reign of the Impala, but they were never there this late - or early, depending on how pedantic Cas was feeling.

As they pulled up just before the verge, and Dean saw that they weren’t alone in their stargazing. There were two other cars parked up, one with steamed up windows (which he smirked at and nodded to knowingly) and another that was empty, its driver and passenger’s shadows joined together and sat on what looked like a picnic blanket in front of the car.

It seemed that stargazing was somewhat of a romantic activity.

Dean swallowed and glanced to his right, where a sheepish Cas was looking anywhere but at him. Perhaps he had realised how his suggestion for them to be alone could have been construed. But then again, Cas was a nerd for anything space-y, and Dean was the only person who would be willing to drive him up here in the very early hours of the morning, so Dean didn't think too much on it.

"How long til it starts?" he asked, punctuating the end of his sentence with the creak of the handbrake.

Cas checked his solar system themed watch. "About four minutes."

"That'll give my baby some time to cool down. Then we can sit on the hood, that alright with you?"

With a slow nod, Cas said, "Gazing up at the best view, sitting on the best ride, with my best friend. This is going to be the best night."

Dean snorted. "Sappy dork," he affectionately teased, lightly punching Cas on the arm and getting out of the car.

The air was crisp, with little breeze and a fresh scent, and Dean sniffed in a lungful of it, stuffing his hands in his pockets and breathing out a satisfying cloud. He heard the gentle closing of the passenger door (Cas was always gentle with his car, ever since Dean had yelled at him for almost scratching the paintwork with a particularly wiry art project)and the cloud in front of him grew when Cas stood next to him.

Without a word, Cas placed a sandwich bag in Dean's hands, and they ate as they made out constellations.

“Mmm...I love you, PB and J,” Cas murmured, taking a break from telling Dean about Cassiopeia and how he used to pretend that he were named Cas after that instead.

“Yeah, Mom's sandwiches are the best,” Dean absent mindedly agreed. Patting the Impala's hood, he carefully slid onto it, gesturing for Cas to follow and leaning back against the windscreen. “But being called Cas after an angel isn't that bad, is it?”

The corner of Cas's lip twitched. “'Castiel' is technically a bastardisation of 'Cassiel', who, while an archangel, is the angel of solitude and tears. Now, you tell me as a friendless, frequently bullied child that being named after that angel isn't that bad.”

For a few moments, Dean was at a loss for words.

“Oh, man...I'm sorry. I guess I see why being a bunch of stars is better than...that.”

“You have no need to apologise. After all, you were the person who showed me that I wouldn't have to be the things my namesake stood for, from the moment you helped me up in that playground.”

Once again, Dean had no idea what to say. He blinked at his friend several times, in awe at how unabashedly honest Cas was being, and could only say in return:

“You're not solitude and tears, or whatever, you're that bunch of stars.” He pointed up at Cassiopeia. “You're a constellation, Cas, and you burn too hot and shine too brightly for most people to look at for too long.”

The stars glittered in Cas's eyes, and Dean felt as though he could take off into the night sky for a second before crashing back down to earth when he realised what he had said.

“...And, uh, if you tell anyone I said that, I'll, I'll...”

“I know. I won't tell anyone,” Cas softly assured, glowing with utter bliss. A sudden gust ran its fingers through his dark hair, somehow correcting the muss that was part of Castiel's trademark look, so Dean countered the good it had done by ruffling Cas's hair and messing it up again.

“Much better,” he announced with a grin.

Cas opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, but it turned into a surprised gasp when a dash of light slashed a line in the sky. A laugh bubbled up inside of him as two other meteors shot past the stars in a blink of an eye, and Dean found himself watching the look of beautiful wonder on his best friend's face rather than what he was supposed to be watching.

He noticed a blink of Cas's that went on for a couple of seconds too long, and nudged him.

“Did you just make a wish?”

“Maybe,” Cas replied, finally gracing Dean with a glance from the corner of his eye. “But I can't tell you what it was, or it won't come true.”

Dean huffed. “Naturally.”

More meteors danced above them, quick as flashes, and though Dean knew he should be making his own wishes on each and every one of them, he couldn't think of a single thing that would make him happier than he was in this moment: full from the sandwich his mother made him, kept warm by his baby's still-cooling engine, and right next to his best friend, who was the most contented Dean had ever seen him.

Snap.

Dean decided to watch the stars and the shower for a while. After all, it was the reason they had driven all the way up here at this time, and it seemed to mean a lot to Cas, who was fascinated by it all.

And fascinated by his face too, apparently.

“What you starin' at?” he asked, drawing his gaze away from the sky and to Cas's curious expression.

Castiel shifted closer, frowning slightly as his eyes darted across Dean's features. “Your freckles...I can see Cassiopeia in them. And Hercules. And Aquila.” He brought his thumb to them, stroking the brown flecks on Dean's cheekbones. “I like to find different ones every day, and I don't think I’ve seen those before.”

“Uhh...” Dean was thankful that it was dark, so Cas couldn't see the blush that had crept behind the freckles.

“The stars are mapped out across your body, Dean Winchester, your cheeks besprent with their dust. Is it any wonder that I am as captivated by you as I am by them?”

A shooting star paved its way through the skies in Cas's eyes, and his hand moved to cup Dean's jaw, the thumb still caressing his freckles. Cas moved closer, his lips still parted from the question Dean suspected was a rhetorical one.

“Besprent?” he repeated in a tiny voice.

“Sprinkled,” Cas simplified. He grazed his lips over the stars of Dean's cheeks. “They are sprinkled with star dust.”

Their lips met but barely touched, their eyes half-lidded as they both captured the moment with more than the tingling they had left over each other's mouths. Drawing away, Dean slid his hand up to the base of Cas's head, playing with the tufts of hair there and stroking his neck before pulling him in to firmly plant his plump lips on Cas's tentative ones.

“Cas, wait,” Dean panted after his mouth had been thoroughly licked into and explored, “What about the meteors?”

“There will be another meteor shower in August,” he breathed, keeping Dean as close as possible to brush their lips as soon as they had finished speaking. “And they're fulfilling my wish right now, so I have no need to keep wishing on these ones.”

“Kissing me was your wish?”

“You kissing back was my wish.” 

Cas didn't have to wish on any more shooting stars for more kisses, as they kissed all they way back to Dean's warm bed until their lips were swollen and exhausted, and with their bodies entwined and indiscernible from each other's even atop the sheets, they fell asleep tracing constellations onto the other's skin.