Dean remembers having had the thought: "When did he start smiling like that?" on one of many occasions he'd seen Cas smile big -or at least big for Cas - an undeniable flash of teeth that often seemed to be drawn out in spite of himself. A prolonged pun, a pie he could taste, a tv commercial for a local mattress store with an overly themed advertising concept. Dean hadn't been able to recollect the first, but the warmth, he knew, carried through all of them.
Now, Dean suffers with his head in his hands with a new thought: "When did he stop smiling like that?". Cas had made the decision, at some point, to stop being happy, and somehow, Dean hadn't noticed. Cas had wondered what happiness looked like, but Dean could have told him, if he'd asked. It looked like crows feet crinkling, and a mouth twitching up, and a shake of the head, and the shifting light of the tv playing BIG TOP'S BIG LOW PRICES. It looked like safety. It looked like a nerd in a trench coat delighting in a novelty beer mug that said SO WHAT, IT'S MONDAY, even when that makes no goddamn sense as a joke. It looked like Cas. It looked like Cas.















