#I’m like. slamming my head into a wall. just write a couple sentences Jess something is better than nothing

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[blissfulcastiel]

Get Closer to Me

Fandom Writing Challenge | blissfulcastiel Prompt: Sweat Pairings: Destiel Tags: College au, friends to lovers, confessions, angst/fluff, bed sleeping bag-sharing AO3 ; thank you to my beta-bae @adoringjensen ♥

Cold air brushes across Castiel’s cheeks as the door swings open, hinges creaking their usual protests. He breathes out, a small puff of white briefly appearing before him until it disappears within seconds. Stepping out of the Impala, he glances around the small campsite, finding a small fire pit with the stones in disarray. Other than that, there’s nothing. So Sam wasn’t kidding when he mentioned they’d be ‘roughing it’. Their saving grace is that there are bathrooms down the road.

“Brr, it’s gonna be a cold one,” Jess comments as she gets out of the car next and hugs herself with a small shiver.

“No kidding. Sam, we’re going to freeze our asses off,” Dean grumbles beside him as he steps out next, the door slamming closed behind him.

“You’re the one who changed his mind about coming, Dean. And wasn’t I the one who told you that leather jacket wouldn’t be warm enough?” Sam counters, throwing him a look over the hood of the car. Castiel catches something along the lines of ‘whatever’ under Dean’s breath as he moves towards the trunk to unload their bags.

Sam does pose a good question, though. When he asked Castiel if he wanted to join him and Jess to go hiking, he’d asked if Dean was coming too – not that it would’ve swayed his decision one way or another. Even though he’s been friends with Dean since freshmen year of college and didn’t meet Sam until later, a good friendship formed between them. But when Sam told him Dean ‘had no interest in sleeping on the frozen ground next to a pair of gross lovebirds’, disappointment laid thick over Castiel. He couldn’t tell if Dean truly had no interest in hiking or he just didn’t want to spend more time with Castiel. He’s fearful it’s the latter.

Ever since that party last week, things have been off between them. He was hoping this outing would’ve brought them back together and they can officially get past this… awkwardness. That’s why when Castiel went over to their house so they could leave together for their last minute camping trip, he was surprised to see Dean getting behind the wheel to drive. By the look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t the only one taken aback by Dean’s presence. It begs the question: why did Dean change his mind?

Castiel’s happy Dean did – he’s always happy when Dean’s involved – but so far, they’ve barely spoken two sentences to each other. Just an awkward greeting and an offer from Dean to help Castiel put his bag in the trunk. If that’s any indication to how the rest of the trip’s going to go, this is going to be a long two days.

“You know how to pitch a tent, Cas?” Sam asks, bringing him out of his reverie.

“It’s been awhile,” he admits, following them around to the back of the Impala to help unload their supplies.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes,” Dean tells him with a grin and a wink as he hauls out one of the tent bags. Castiel snorts at the awful pun. Okay, maybe he was over thinking everything, as per usual. Maybe things with Dean are fine. At least, that’s what he’s desperately trying to convince himself of as he follows Dean to pick out a smooth patch of ground to set up their tent, Sam and Jess settling nearby to do the same.

They work together fine, but there’s really no conversation except for Dean giving Castiel instructions and him asking questions in return when something isn’t going together correctly. Once they have the tent up, Dean leaves him to set up the guy lines as he demonstrated while he goes about making everyone some sandwiches before they hit the trail. Castiel glances over at him occasionally, still feeling unnerved by how he’s supposed to be acting. Working close to Dean wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but… something’s not right. Dean is Castiel’s best friend, and he always knows when there’s a problem. The only difference this time is that he can’t tell if Dean feels this too or if Castiel’s the only one still trying to get past what happened. They still haven’t had that conversation.

Dean glances up, meeting Castiel’s eyes and his mouth twitches as he holds up a hand – along with a slice of cheese – in a half wave. Shit, caught staring. Castiel never used to be embarrassed if Dean caught him staring.  

“You okay, Cas?”

He nods quickly, tearing his gaze away while his chilled cheeks fill with warmth. “Uh – yes. Maybe, um, if you have a second, check my work?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean slap together a completed sandwich, dusting his hands of crumbs, and walks over. Just the presence of Dean standing behind him feels like a heavy weight slowly crushing Castiel. Even worse – Dean leans down, reaching past Castiel to pluck at one of the thin ropes.

“Nice work, Cas. They’ll hold well if we get any crazy ass winds tonight.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs, still very much aware of how close Dean is to him. Dean seems to finally notice the same and he jerks back to his feet, putting space between them. “Lunch is, um, ready.” Castiel listens as Dean walks over to Sam and Jess’ tent, the couple having decided to disappear inside to ‘set up their sleeping bag’.

Over lunch, Sam outlines which trails they’re going on and which natural wonders they want to see, the biggest one being a frozen waterfall. With the route he and Jess make up, it’s set to keep them out the rest of the day and hopefully not too much longer into dusk. With that as a source of motivation, they’re quick to gather their things and set out on their first trail.

Castiel enjoys the outdoors. He finds nature fascinating and relaxing. It’s his time to clear his mind – or let it wander – and feel the peace surround him. This hike, however, is anything but peaceful.

First, there’s the overwhelming presence of Dean walking next to him. Most of the paths are wide enough that they can walk two by two with Sam and Jess leading the way. It’d be pretty damn obvious if Castiel was avoiding Dean by either walking ahead or lagging way behind. Then there’s the known fact that they walk together wherever they go. He hates it because they’re so close. At times, their arms brush together and it leaves Castiel momentarily stunned, instantly thrown back into a time when the room was hot and packed with too many sweaty bodies while the floor vibrated with the music’s heavy bass beneath their feet. A time that might seem hazy from the several shots he’d taken, but he can still very much recall the way Dean’s hand felt brushing against his arm, bodies pressed together from lack of anywhere else to go. He always snaps himself out of the memory before it can progress too far, and keeps walking as if nothing happened.

Second, Dean’s grumbling the whole way. About the cold. About almost slipping on a random frozen puddle. About how ‘this waterfall better be some epic shit for all this effort’. Sam and Jess are too wrapped up in their conversation to hear him, but the little comments are starting to get under Castiel’s skin. Because it still doesn’t make sense. Why did Dean fucking change his mind?

Then there’s the final straw. The moment that convinces Castiel he’s actually in Hell.

They’ve arrived at their final destination, the frozen waterfall, after hiking for hours. Castiel can see why Sam and Jess were so excited to see it. The sight is truly breathtaking. Winter may have just begun, but the cold has already hit them hard and therefore creating the wonder Castiel’s currently staring up at in awe.

It isn’t a huge waterfall by any means. It’s spread wide as it tips over the cliff’s edge above, making it look bigger than it is, but the stream isn’t too intense. Standing under it in the summer would probably be akin to standing in a shower with excellent water pressure. Now, the water’s frozen mid-air, some sections of the waterfall touching all the way to the ground. Behind the distorted icy wall is an alcove that could possibly be considered a small cave, where Sam and Jess are currently exploring. Castiel’s not really sure where Dean went. Maybe he followed after them.

It’s been a fairly gray day, but there have been occasional breaks in the thin layer of clouds that tease the blue sky behind them. Now, with the sun setting behind the cliff, the colors of sunset reflect off the gray while creating a picturesque backdrop beyond the waterfall. Jess, having a love for photography, has been taking pictures along the way and Castiel could easily ask her to take the photo for him, but he decides to see what he can capture on his own.

Stepping back, he pulls off a single glove to fish his phone from his pocket and open the camera app. He holds it up, but he’s too close to get the full view he wants. Step by step, he backs up as more of the cliff fills the screen. It’s too late that he realizes he should probably be paying attention to where he’s walking, because one moment he’s upright, the next his feet are tripping over a rock. He scrambles to regain his footing, but lurches the wrong way and ends up on the small stream created by the waterfall, the frozen water doing no favors in his attempts to right himself. His feet finally slip out from under him, and with his heart in his throat, he braces for impact, praying his head doesn’t land on anything sharp. His fall is stopped by something, though. A tight grip wraps around his arms, and he’s leaning against something soft. He opens his eyes, having squeezed them shut at some point, and looks up to find green eyes staring down at him.

“You should probably watch where you’re going,” Dean tells him.

Castiel breathes out, body slumping against Dean’s while his mind plays catch up. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Can you stand?”

With the help of Dean holding him, he’s able to regain his footing on the ice, but Dean holds on securely while Castiel takes stock of himself. “I think I’m good. Nothing seems to hurt.”

Dean grins at him. “You’re lucky I was here, then.”

Castiel swallows, heart still thudding in his chest, only for different reasons this time. “Um, thank you. I, um, didn’t realize – I thought you were with Sam and Jess.”

Dean shrugs. “Figured they’d want some time alone to be in their nerd heaven. I’m more interested in finding a way to climb this thing and get a vantage point.”

“Any luck?”

“Not without doing some serious climbing or walking around to find a better slope. I don’t know about you, but my fingers and toes are too frozen for all that.”

Castiel chuckles. “I’d have to agree.”

For a moment, they both look at each other and seem to realize that Dean is still holding onto Castiel’s arm. He drops it awkwardly before nodding towards the waterfall. “I, uh, believe you were trying to get your picture?”

Castiel pushes away the emptiness that comes with the loss of Dean’s touch. Those feelings are bad. They’re the reason why the incident happened. They’re the reason a cloud of tension has been hanging over them ever since. He nods before lifting his phone to snap his picture. When he opens it up to check the quality, he’s acutely aware of Dean looking over his shoulder at it.

“Damn, Jess is gonna be jealous someone can take as good a picture as her.”

Castiel snorts, looking up at him. “You’re just saying that.”

“Come on, Cas, I would never…” He trails off suddenly. Something flashes through Dean’s eyes then. Was it doubt? Hurt? Castiel can’t place it before it’s gone, replaced quickly with mischief. “Hey, get a picture of me licking the waterfall.”

Castiel chuckles. “Don’t you need a few shots first to think reckless ideas are good ones?” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it and the regret is instant. The playfulness of Dean’s face dissipates into guilt and… something else. “Dean, I didn’t mean –“

“It’s fine, Cas. You’re not exactly wrong.”

Before Castiel can try to do some damage control, Sam’s calling to them. “Hey, you guys done looking around? Sun’s going down fast and we should be heading back.”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean replies gruffly as he walks away from Castiel. He waits a few moments before sighing and following suit. He hadn’t meant to say what he said, but is it not true? Alcohol has a long history of clouding people’s judgments, which happen to include kissing your best friend. Castiel swallows thickly, quickly shoving the memory away before it can fill his mind with images and feelings he shouldn’t be thinking about.

The walk back to camp drones on too long. Dean’s walking ahead of the group while Castiel brings up the rear. He can feel Sam and Jess’ curious gazes glance back at him, but he ignores them. By the time they make it back to camp, it’s pitch black with the exception of their flashlights lighting up the darkness. Sam gets to work building the fire while Dean loads their cooler from the trunk of the Impala. Jess and Castiel set up their chairs around the fire pit and give order to the stones meant to contain the fire. Once Sam gives life to the flames, they all take a moment to thaw their frozen bodies and visit the bathroom before roasting some hot dogs, a classic camping meal according to Dean.

They talk as a group, Sam and Jess taking up most of the conversation as they pass around her camera to view her pictures. Dean and Castiel never speak directly to each other. In fact, Dean won’t even look at him. Not that Castiel is looking much at Dean either. He sneaks quick peeks here and there, but he’s too terrified of what he might see if their eyes meet. His stomach churns and he’s worried he may just be sick. This was never supposed to happen.

So many times, Castiel’s thought about what it would be like to kiss Dean. All sorts of scenarios, all sorts of events. Just about every one of them was more favorable than the drunken make-out session they had. Of course it felt incredible. Castiel still recalls the way Dean’s lips felt against his, how wonderfully soft and smooth they were. The way Dean’s hands gradually slipped around his waist, pulling them even more impossibly close than they already were. His tongue – oh god, his tongue. Like silk, sweetened from the fruity tequila cocktail he’d stolen from Charlie. Castiel swore he could stand there all night, relishing in the way Dean felt and tasted. The kiss – quickly turned plural – was sloppy, but oh, did it make Castiel’s head spin. For a moment, he was convinced he was getting drunker off Dean than the actual alcohol.

At the time, Castiel didn’t care that he’d regret not tearing himself away sooner. In that moment, it was perfect to him. Hindsight is 20/20, though. Now he can see how he lost his chance. His one and only kiss with Dean, and it was wasted at some random party with alcohol being the only reason it happened. Castiel can’t remember how it got initiated, but he’s fairly certain it was all on him. Years of pining mixed with tequila means very little restraint on Castiel’s end.

But aside from the kiss, their friendship. What if they won’t ever be able to get past this? Castiel’s been trying to put it out of his mind, but how can he ever act like he isn’t painfully in love with his best friend after getting a taste of what it’d be like if things were different? Keeping Dean as a friend is more important than some stupid kiss, but how long will he be able to keep up this façade that he’s fine?

“Cas?” He looks up to see Jess looking down at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You okay?”

He blinks a couple times before giving her a smile. “Sorry, I just - Are you and Sam turning in?”

She grins at him. “It’s okay. I know we did a lot of walking today and it’s cold as hell. But yeah, we are. Maybe you should be getting some sleep too?”

Castiel nods, getting to his feet. “Good idea.” He says his goodnights to Sam and Jess before they disappear inside their tent. When they’re gone, he glances to Dean, who’s staring into the fire. “Are you, um…”

Dean doesn’t meet his gaze. “In a few.”

“Okay,” Castiel sighs softly. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.” The soft way Dean says the words only serve to make Castiel melt and ache all at once. Without sparing another moment, he slips into their tent and zips it up behind him. He quickly sheds all his layers to change into something more comfortable to sleep in – a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with a hoodie thrown over. Within minutes, he’s tucked into his sleeping bag, watching the shadows created by the flames slowly fade as the fire dies out. It’s then he hears Dean stomp out the remaining embers and starts unzipping the tent. Castiel closes his eyes and is eternally grateful for the dark to hide his horrible attempts at acting. Once Dean is done changing into his own version of pajamas – it’s too hard to see through the dark what he’s wearing – Castiel hears him slip into his sleeping bag.

Then it’s just quiet.

Castiel honestly tries to go to sleep. He really does. But his mind won’t shut off. It won’t stop thinking about Dean and the kiss and everything that’s happened since. It won’t stop thinking about what the future holds for them, whether Castiel should come clean about his feelings or hope the eggshells will eventually clear and he and Dean can be the friends they were before that damn party.

Out in the middle of nowhere, essentially, with the darkness too thick to see much of anything, time is not a concept to Castiel. He has no idea how much of it has passed. An hour? Two hours? Thirty minutes? He could probably sneak a look at his phone, but he doesn’t want to give away that he’s been up this whole time.

He keeps trying to make his eyes shut. Eventually the exhaustion from the hiking and shivering from the cold will wear him out and he’ll have no choice but to pass out. But why won’t it just happen? Probably another twenty minutes passes, if Castiel’s being realistic, and the wind starts to pick up. The tent is doing pretty well at taking the brunt of it, but he can still feel the icy breeze sneak in through the zipper of the entrance and ‘windows’, despite them all being zipped closed. If he wasn’t shivering before, he definitely is now.

There are times when Castiel wishes for endless nights. This is not one of those nights.

Barely withholding a frustrated sigh, he crawls out from his sleeping bag and reaches for his duffle. He packed an extra pair of fuzzy socks to use at night should it get unbearably cold. He feels around for the soft bundle, but comes up with nothing.

“Please, please, please,” he prays softly, this time dragging out all his stuff in hopes the socks will appear. They don’t. And then he remembers. The socks are sitting in his laundry basket, waiting patiently to be packed. “Fuck,” he sighs, sitting back dejectedly. He must’ve forgotten them while he was too busy wallowing over Dean not coming on the trip. Which, as it turned out, was completely pointless.

“Cas?”

He freezes at the sound of Dean’s voice. It takes him a couple seconds to remember to answer. Obviously Dean knows he’s awake now.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Some shifting. “Nah, you didn’t – it’s alright. Is, uh, everything okay?”

Castiel sighs. “Yes. It’s just that I didn’t exactly come as prepared as I intended.”

Dean chuckles, a quiet sound. “Leave it to Sam to want to go camping while it feels like Elsa iced us all over.”

“At least it’s not snowing.”

“Thank god for that. Please promise me you’ll never take me camping in the winter again.”

A smile pulls at Castiel’s lips. He wants to ask why Dean even came in the first place, but the comment gives him some hope. Any talk about the future together is a good sign.

“You have my word. Although, I doubt Sam and Jess will want to have a repeat of this night. I bet they’re just as cold as us.”

Dean snorts. “No way. Those two are definitely sharing a sleeping bag. They’re probably alright.”

“Ah yes, I forgot about the benefits of sharing body heat.”

“If we’re smart, we should do that too.” At first, Castiel doesn’t think he hears him correctly, but then Dean clears his throat. “I mean, um, if you’re really that cold. Survival 101, ya know? I, um, have a double, so there’s room over here.”

��You’d be… okay with that?” Castiel asks slowly.

“Come on, Cas. We’ve kissed before, haven’t we?” He can tell Dean means to say it as a joke, but it comes out almost timid, as if worried Castiel might storm out of the tent at the reminder. If he knows what’s good for him, Castiel would politely decline the offer. There’s no way he’d be able to sleep next to Dean and not slowly die the rest of the night. But right now, Castiel’s freezing and he misses being close to Dean. He hates this space created between them. If this is Dean’s attempt at getting past the tension, then there’s no way Castiel’s going to leave him vulnerable.

“Alright.”

He feels his way over Dean, and it takes some shuffling before they get settled in the sleeping bag. There’s enough room for them to turn over, but close enough that Castiel can feel Dean’s breath tickle his face. They lay in silence, but it’s oddly not awkward. There’s just a sense of ease being this close to Dean. They’re able to do this. Coexist in silence and not feel the need to fill it. Until a question blurts out of Castiel’s mouth before he can stop it.

“Why did you change your mind?”

Dean doesn’t answer. Not right away, at least.

“I still think about that kiss.” It’s barely a whisper. “I… Fuck, I know I shouldn’t be saying this right now but - I think about that kiss too fucking much.”

Wait… What?

“And I know we were drunk. I know it meant nothing, but dammit Cas, I – I can’t forget it.”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts, his head spinning. He can’t be really saying what Castiel thinks he’s saying. But there’s one thing that Castiel wants to make perfectly clearly. “It wasn’t meaningless to me.”

“It… It wasn’t?”

Castiel huffs a soft, humorless laugh. Well, if they’re going down this road, might as well see what’s at the end. “Not in the slightest. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to…”

A pause. “Do you really mean that, Cas?”

Castiel nips at his lip. He’s thankful for the darkness because a blush is burning hot on his face, but damn if he isn’t dying to see exactly what’s showing in Dean’s eyes right now. “Of course. I – I’m sorry it had to come out this way but… how could I not develop feelings for you, Dean? You… you mean too much.”

As if set off on a trigger, the warmth on Castiel’s side disappears and suddenly there’s a weight settled on top of his body while lips dip down to meet his. Castiel’s breath hitches in his throat and it takes a moment for his brain to figure out what the hell is happening. When it finally does a heartbeat later, Castiel’s frozen fingers tangle themselves in the fabric of what feels like one of Dean’s Henley’s and he returns the kiss. It doesn’t last more than a couple seconds before Dean pulls back enough to whisper clearly against his lips.

“So long, Cas.” Another soft kiss. “So long I’ve wanted to tell you. I should’ve, but – dammit, I had no idea how. You’re my best friend and I didn’t…“

Castiel grins in the dark, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I think we both shared the same thoughts.”

Dean chuckles quietly. “You know, I never thought it’d come out like that. Drunk at one of those stupid frat parties. I… I always kinda pictured us going on a date or something…”

“Dean Winchester, old fashioned? I would’ve never guessed,” Castiel teases, earning him a gentle shove against his shoulder.

“Shut up. I wanted to be classy for you, okay?”

In reality, Castiel knows perfectly well how thoughtful Dean is to his love interests. He may put on a tough front, but he’s never been anything less than a gentleman in his past relationships. That was always hard to watch for Castiel, wishing it could be him. He reaches up to feel along Dean’s jaw, which causes him to shudder. They can’t see each other, but he’s hoping the touch will make for a good substitute of seeing each other’s eyes. “I like you as you are, Dean. You don’t need to be anything but that for me to be happy.”

Dean ducks his head, forehead resting against Castiel’s shoulder. “Jesus, you – you can’t say stuff like that, Cas.”

Castiel smiles. “Say for the sake of curiosity, we haven’t had our first kiss…”

Dean lifts his head. “Well, since you asked.” There’s no doubt a smirk is painted on Dean’s lips and a glint is in those eyes right now. Butterflies take flight in Castiel’s stomach as Dean’s lips brush against his, a soft peck that’s quickly followed by a firmer press. It’s innocent and tender, completely different from their first drunken kiss. This must be what it feels like for angels to soar through the clouds. So breathtaking and light, the feeling of invincibility and awe spreading throughout his body. Castiel’s hands trail down Dean’s side before spreading out over his back, feeling along the strong muscles underneath the Henley. Dean, still holding himself up with one arm, uses the other to cup Castiel’s face, his chill fingers searing against the warmth that seems permanent under his skin now.

After a few moments of gentle kisses, there’s the lightest brush of Dean’s tongue against Castiel’s bottom lip, and he parts his mouth experimentally. A soft sigh escapes him after the first caress, and he eagerly seeks out more. Honestly, it’s silly for Castiel to feel like he’s never kissed anyone before, but kissing Dean completely sober like this, without the taste of alcohol, it’s making his head spin more than the first time, which also was ten times more explicit.

It doesn’t take much for the kisses to lose their shyness, transforming into complete and utter want. Dean works his tongue deeper into Castiel’s mouth, and Castiel pushes back in an attempt to get more. Their breathing ratchets up with the heat, hands moving more eagerly over skin and clothes, touching all they can. A low fire starts to burn in Castiel’s stomach, and it’s materializing in the way his cock gradually hardens. Feeling Dean’s cock do the same, pressed against his thigh, isn’t doing him any favors either. Imagine how powerless he is when Dean adjusts himself so that when he thrusts ever so gently, it brushes right over Castiel’s erection.

“Dean,” he moans against his lips. Dean chuckles in response. Castiel isn’t too far gone to get his revenge, though. Gripping Dean’s hips, Castiel moves his hips and gives an answering thrust.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, fingers tangling into Castiel’s hair. They continue to go back and forth, their kisses becoming sloppier and more desperate as they rut against each other. Jesus, they’re like the horny teenagers in those eighties movies Dean had them watch during their movie nights. He should probably be embarrassed at how fast he’s approaching the edge, his boxers absorbing the pre-come as he aches for more while having no control over the desperate sounds that are escaping him. He can’t find it in himself to care. Dean seems to be the same above him anyway.

“Shit, Cas, I’m gonna –“ And just like that, Dean rips himself from Castiel’s arms, rolling onto his back beside him. Castiel whines pathetically at the loss, but his mind won’t give words to his protests. “Christ, Cas, we can’t – we shouldn’t do this here.”

Castiel’s trying hard to catch his breath, feeling dizzy from being so close to coming and then suddenly lacking any stimulation. But Dean’s right. If they come now, they’d either have to sit with the mess in their boxers all night or be assaulted by the cold to change into new ones. Neither option sounds particularly pleasant. “You’re right,” he admits reluctantly.

For several moments, they lay in silence with the exception of their labored breathing, not feeling chilled at all. Far from it. In fact, he wants to shed his hoodie because his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin, causing it to become damp with sweat. That’s one way to warm up, he supposes. When it feels he’s come down from being so high, he rolls over to nuzzle himself to Dean, almost worried he might wake up any second now and realize this is all a dream. He’s reassured by Dean’s arms wrapping around him, and a soft kiss is placed just above his eyebrow. If only he was able to look at Dean right now. Read whatever could be in those green eyes.

“I’m glad you changed your mind. About coming with, I mean,” Castiel finds himself saying.

“Me too, Cas.” A soft kiss. “Me too.”

Sleep takes Castiel then, and when he wakes up the next morning to find himself still tangled with Dean, whose hair is a mess from last night, he smiles. His heart skips a beat when Dean blearily blinks open his eyes, slowly adjusting to the bright sunlight streaming through the walls of the tent. All sorts of shades of green and hints of gold dance in them as they come to life and seem to remember the events that led them in the same sleeping bag.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean smiles lazily at him, adoration prominent as he gazes back at him. “Morning, sunshine.”

It’s then that Castiel swears he’s fallen in love.