This is a writing prompt I posted to my Tumblr awhile ago. It is sort of a Destiel story, sort of not. I randomly came up with it so I wrote it out finally. Sorry of how short it is anyways, I hope you like it :)


This is written in Cas' POV

It was a frosty day sometime in December. That cold, white stuff they call snow was all over the place. The Winchester had asked me to join them that day while they played in it. I watched from afar, wondering why they were handling it and molding it into balls. How could this wet stuff even be made into a ball?
I looked down at my feet, feeling myself sinking into it as I stood there. Just thinking about it, I felt frozen as I looked up to find Dean staring at me. He was giving me one of those weird looks with his brow raised. He probably thought I was a fool as I looked away, embarrassed. But that wouldn’t stop him from approaching me, my eyes meeting his boots once he stood in front of me.
I’d hesitated to look up while pulling my trench coat closer as a chill passed. Once I met his gaze, a smile crossed his face but I’d look away just as it disappeared. I knew that Dean meant well but sometimes he cared a bit too much. The smile became a frown. It seemed to just melt away from his face, like the snow beneath our feet.
I bet he was thinking I was upset or something along those lines but none of that was true. I found myself searching the blinding crystals around us, thinking what it was like when it fell. I heard Dean’s boots creak on the snow as if he was about to leave but only to stop halfway. I was too busy thinking about other things to notice him return in front of me. That is when I felt it - his warm hands around my neck as they danced around me until the end.
Warmth filled me as I looked down to find that ragged old red scarf around my neck. My fingers would eagerly follow its threads as I pressed my nose into it, swallowing me up like the fire it was. I let my eyes move up to Dean’s face and watched as it started to turn red. He’d smile again, pushing his gloved hands into his pockets. The cold was obvious around him but yet he still didn’t seemed bothered.
“Why did you give me your scarf?” I’d say to him, muffled by the red warmth surrounding me.
He looked a bit surprised to my question before he shook his head. “Because you need it more than me.”