#lilyfox

Dean was falling for a few decades now.

Dean was burning for a few decades now.

The tunnel leading to the cage went on and on, and he was hurtling forward between the walls of rotten flesh, pieces of him staying behind – courtesy of the occasional hook, while Sam and Adam's screams were ringing from all around him.

Dean was falling for a few centuries now.

Dean was burning for a f-

"Hello Dean"

Dean rose quickly to a sitting position and tried to catch his breath. Cass just stayed put, and after a few moments Dean's breathing stabilised and he fell back into Castiel's lap.

"Hi Cass"

Dean looked around, wondering where Castiel brought him this time. The visits started about three months after Dean moved in with Lisa and Cass flew off to rule heaven. It was a night like any other night – Dean drank until his body couldn't resist him anymore, and passed out on the nearest vertical surface. It was the only way he managed to fall asleep – his sober will was too strong to willingly step into the land of perpetual nightmares sleep became for him. He was falling into Lucifer's cage like always when he felt a sudden tug on his shoulder, and the next time he opened his eyes he found himself in a lovely sunlit garden with Castiel smiling by his side.

"Hello Dean"

Those two familiar words were enough to make Dean burst into tears for the rest of the dream while Castiel held him tightly in his arms. When he woke up the next day, he smiled at Lisa for the first time since their reunion. After Castiel's second visit, seventeen days later, Dean managed to go to bed relatively sober. On Castiel's seventh visit, as the orange-coloured waves tickled their toes and the tropical breeze ruffled their hair, Dean asked if he could kiss him. Even now, on Castiel's twelfth visit, Dean wasn't sure why he asked for it – maybe it was the way the Copacabana beach was unnaturally devoid of people; maybe it was the way Castiel's eyes sparkled against the tropical sunset, as if his grace was bubbling just below that bright blue surface; maybe it was the fact he began believing these were actual dreams, and thus had no implication on the real world. All those speculations were resolved in a heart beat as Castiel nodded silently and leaned in. Dean asked because he wanted the answer.

"Not very exotic" remarked Dean. They were on the impala's roof – Castiel was sitting with his legs tacked under him and Dean used the angel's knees as a pillow. They were parked in a quiet suburban neighbourhood on a clear wintry night. Everything was asleep under a thick coat of snow – the people, the houses, the roads – everything except for the two of them.

"I'm sorry" said Castiel, and looked down in embarrassment.

Dean raised himself to a sitting position again, and gently nudged Castiel's chin so they'll face each other. He was surprised at how long it took him to realise how beautiful Castiel is. Of course his basic facial features belonged to Jimmy Novak, but Cass's character made them into something completely different. The way his mouth was always a little open, as if he was constantly mesmerized by the beauty of creation. The way his eyes were absolutely honest, not like those of a good person or a bad liar, but more like those of a child, unaware of the existence of lies. The way he managed to look so simple at first glance, yet so divine at second. Those little perks were Castiel's, and they were the things Dean found beautiful.

"Don't be – I said not very exotic, not not beautiful. I think it suits you better"

Castiel stared at him, slowly processing the analogy. Dean just smiled on, enjoying the way the cold weather coloured the angel's cheeks and nose. His heart skipped a beat when Castiel took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Can – can I kiss you?"

Dean let out a short, happy sigh. Ever since the first one all those dreams ago, it seems Cass was left with the impression that this is how kisses work. Dean used to think it will start bothering him eventually, but he actually came to love the fact Cass asked for permission. It was sweet in a way, and it always gave Dean a chance to reflect on the situation, to assert control over it. By being asked to give his permission every time, he was slowly feeling more and more comfortable with not being asked for permission at all.