Title: Our Side of the World
Author: adictd2life
Recipient: aphoticdivinity
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mild Torture

Spoilers: Not really. Some references to season four stuff.
Word Count: 5,033
Prompt(s): Dean is haunted nightly by his memories of helland Castiel is there to calm his fears and clear his mind. Should be lots of contact in the dream world and the waking world, Dean's fears being hushed by the touch of Castiel. At first it's innocent touches on the forehead, or his fingertips brush through Dean's hair... but eventually Castiel becomes too fascinated with the man and kisses him, sure that he's going to be smited, punched by the hunter, or both... but to his surprise neither of those things happen and Dean kisses him back, finding that the more physical contact he has with the angel the more alive he feels. Dean is able to get past his grief through Castiel and can function again.
Author's Note:Beta-ed by the very awesome anyothergirl415
Summary: Dean remembers hell. He remembers every second and it's killing him. He feels guilt and shame. The guilt and the shame he expects. What he never expected was falling for the angel.


There are screams all around. They never stop. He never stops screaming. He can't; not now, not ever. Knives pierce his skin over and over until there's nothing left. And he never stops screaming. Sometimes he prays, he curses and he even begs.
Alistair doesn't stop. He taunts and laughs. He rips into Dean's mind and body. The pain doesn't end with physical pain. There's no rest, Alistair makes sure of that.
"Worthless." Alistair carves the word onto his chest. He takes his time, demonstrating once again why he's feared so much in the pits.
"No wonder Sammy left you," he taunts twisting the knife painfully in his skin.
"See this? This is where you belong, boy and don't you ever forget that."
Alistair holds up the knife, examining it.
"What do you say? Are you ready for the more heavy duty stuff?"

Dean's eyes snap open and he gasps for breath. He can feel his heart pounding almost painfully against his chest.
Dean should have known better. Good things don't happen to me.
He'd told Sam he didn't remember a thing. It was true, at least at the time. But the thing is, everything changed. He remembered every second of every day of every fucking year and it hurt; made his chest feel heavy and throat close. So much fucking pain, he's actually considering how easy it would be to just drive off a cliff or step in front of a car- or something more painful.

"Hello Dean, what were you dreaming of?" Castiel's voice brings him back from his pretty close to suicidal thoughts. He groans inwardly and reluctantly sits up. Castiel's sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him with his head tilted. Creepy, much?
He's got the perfect retort on the tip of his tongue but doesn't really have the strength. Remembering all about hell and torturing souls can do that to a person. Instead he falls back on the bed.

"Go away," he finally mutters. Since when does he sound like a petulant little kid?

Castiel doesn't say anything for a while. Cas' the sort of person or angel that kind of stops being an itch and just sort of fades into Dean's less than perfect existence. But just to make sure he's still there Dean takes a peek and sure enough he is.He looks confused when he meets Dean's eyes. But the look is almost right away replaced by his usual I'm an angel of the lord and you better obey me look. He does that a lot. So much for angels being fluffy and cute. Well Castiel's not fluffy but he's certainly not bad looking, Dean finds thinking. Not bad looking? That seriously freaks Dean out because since when does he check out male angels? Even if Castiel is the only male angel he knows right now.

"Sleep," Cas says breaking the almost awkward silence, sounding almost wary.
Dean grunts. Right..No thank you very much. He'd rather not go back to dreaming about hell. These days, Dean hates dreaming with a passion. He hates dreaming of blood and guts. Hates the way Sam looks at him with pity because he's not the same Dean anymore. Hates himself.
Hates how weak he's become. But mostly, he just hates dreaming. Especially that. Although thinking about it,maybe hate is too nice of a word. What's worse is that Dean's seriously sounding like some emo kid and he can't have that. Seriously.

"Sleep," Castiel repeats sounding more insistent.
Dean's vaguely reminded of a puppy before he shakes his head. Maybe he's going crazy.
Sleep is actually starting to sound like a good idea, right now if it means not thinking about how Castiel reminds him of a puppy or how he's apparently not that bad looking. Yeah, sleep sounds just fine.

He closes his eyes.
"It'll be all right." Dean distantly hears Castiel's voice one last time before he falls back asleep feeling warm and safe.

He doesn't dream about hell. Oddly enough he dreams about puppies with blue eyes and everything nice. It feels like a dream right out of a Powerpuff Girls episode. Dean blames Castiel. Secretly he kind of likes that dream, that is if he were to really think about it.

Slice and dice. Slice and fucking dice. Slash.
Alistair loves to slice Dean's skin off. Loves it with a passion.
Slice. Slice. Dice. Chop.
And so much fucking pain. It stings, it burns, and it throbs like a – SONAVUBITCH- it hurts.

Dean wakes up gasping for breath and making small whiny noises. His throat feels like it's got a big old lump and damn- he might just starting sobbing like a kid. This feels all too much like a repeat performance. Most of his nights usually do.
"Cas." Dean doesn't need to open his eyes to know that the hand resting on his forehead belongs to Cas and it really doesn't freak him out as much as it probably should. It feels warm against his own clammy skin. He welcomes the feeling because it's better than having to deal with his own internal battles. Cas' hand feels like an anchor. To what? Maybe his sanity.

"Shh... Dean. It's all right. Go back to sleep." And the sound of Castiel's voice lulls him back to sleep. Sometimes Cas reminds him of his mom, he's pretty sure his mom used to sing lullabies to him. Cas' voice sounds like that- like a lullaby.
The rest of the night he dreams of fishing with Sam and Castiel, oddly enough. Sam he gets but why Castiel? That part's still a mystery to him. He likes Castiel. He's not so bad but dreaming about him? That's new levels of weirdness even for Dean.

Until Dean realizes what Cas is doing. Cas is comforting him. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out, especially when Dean wakes up from his nightmares to Castiel's soothing touch. Which isn't so bad.
For some reason it stops bothering him, the fact that Cas is saving him over and over again.

Like he said Castiel's like an itch that eventually just fades into the background , stops being annoying and starts to feel like the dirt under his fingers. Which coming from Dean is definitely a compliment. Weird.
The next morning all that really matters is that for the first time since hell, Dean slept like a baby and it was all thanks to Castiel. That morning he realizes something, Cas' eyes are really pretty and he doesn't mind dreaming about them.

His arm felt like it's been ripped out of its socket. Which is exactly what has happened.
Alistair apparently enjoys breaking and ripping bones- almost as much as he enjoys carving into Dean's skin.
He's screaming with his eyes shut tightly. Everyone is pretty much screaming here. Sometimes he screams just to drown out the others.
And Castiel's here. Hell's gone. He's not in the rack. He's entirely Dean Winchester at the beach.
It's just Dean, Castiel and the waves.
Dean feels himself being freed from his nightmare. He doesn't think about how cliché it all feels. He remembers who he is. He's not in hell anymore and this- this is just a nightmare. No one can hurt him anymore. Cas did that. Cas was the one to pull him out of hell and now he's
the one to free him from his nightmares. He's the one to give Dean the remote control.
He doesn't belong to Alistair or hell. Maybe he belongs to heaven but that's definitely better than belonging to hell. At least he hopes it is, for his sake and everyone else.

Most of the time Cas manages to take him out of hell just fine, other times he's too late. Dean doesn't blame him. He's an angel, he's bound to have other duties besides looking after him.

Sometimes he forgets his name. He tries to remember, he truly does. His name is Dean Winchester and he's in hell. His brother is Sam Winchester.
"Sam!" Sometimes Dean screams for Sam. Hoping that his little brother will save him.
After a while he stops. It doesn't help. All it does is provide more ammunition for Alistair.
Sam's not coming.

His eyes snap open. He gasps for breath, trying desperately to quiet down the pathetic noises he's making. His arms wrap around his body because it feels like it's fucking freezing.

"Dean." Suddenly Castiel's there, his hand resting on Dean's shoulder. He can feel the warmth of Castiel's hand and suddenly it doesn't feel

so cold. He's not sure if he should be moving closer or further from Cas. Cas always seems to be there, these days. Cas' looking at him, like looking into your soul looking. He doesn't say anything, he just looks and it's really starting to freak Dean out. Really. He hates how vulnerable Cas makes him feel.


"Shh...Go back to sleep," Cas finally says. It's more of an order than a suggestion, and Dean really wants to say no way, you can shove that up your lily white ass because I'm not taking orders from you, but hell he's tired, like really tired. Besides Cas' there and that means no more nightmares for the rest of the night, and that makes him feel warm inside. Besides if he's honest with himself, he likes waking up to the angel's presence.

That night he dreams of clear blue skies the color of Castiel's eyes.

Sam doesn't say anything. But Dean's pretty sure he knows what's going on, or at least suspects. Sometimes he looks at Dean with his eyebrow raised almost saying Dean what are you doing? Dean's not too sure why he feels ashamed, it's not like they're doing anything wrong. They're not.

The nightmares don't go away.
Good thing Castiel doesn't go away either. Dean's pretty sure it's a good thing.

Pain. So much pain. God, he'll do anything to make the pain stop. Anything.
"What will it be today, Dean-o?" Another day. He wants to say no, but he can't.
"Yes," he lets out. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to feel nothing but failing miserably.
"Good answer."
Then he's standing with a soul in front of him. He picks up the knife and he gets to work.

Cas' presence has become so constant, so soothing that by now Dean has stopped waking up surprised or disoriented. He awakens almost peacefully. Dean doesn't open his eyes. He's awake and Cas doesn't know it.
He's not sure why he's pretending to be asleep. He keeps his breathing steady, feeling Cas' presence nearby. He just knows he's waiting for something. His body is almost tingling in anticipation.

Cas' hand is running through his hair.
The feel of Cas' touch seems to send sparks throughout his body. God, it feels so fucking good.
Cas' hand is practically caressing his cheek. Dean bites back a moan. He doesn't want to sound so pathetic, he doesn't. But the way Castiel's hand feels against his skin makes him feel so alive. So much more fucking alive then he's been since hell. It's better than drinking away his nightmares or fucking some random hot girl.
Now he really wants to smack himself because comparing Cas' touch to fucking? He's not going to go there. He shouldn't at least because one, Cas' a guy, two, he's an angel, and three, Dean's pretty sure he's not gay.

Castiel's hand is still moving and fuck- Cas must be an expert at this type of thing. But exactly what this is, well Dean's not too sure of that yet.
He doesn't really get to do a lot more thinking after that. He falls asleep because honestly it's actually really nice to feel Castiel so close to him; to actually feel his touch.

The warm blue sky above him and the slow steady crashing of the waves surrounds Dean. He likes it here, he realizes as he stares at the waves.
Dean doesn't even need to turn his head to know that it's Cas
They stand side by side watching the sunset. He thinks about asking Cas where this is because thinking about it- it'd be real nice to come here sometime for real.

It doesn't get easier. The war doesn't go away. And Sam's not his little brother anymore. He doesn't recognize the cold man beside him. Sometimes he'll catch glimpses of his Sammy, but mostly they're just flashes. A grin here and some puppy dog eyes there. Then he's back to a grim face that reminds him all too much of their dad.
And he stills dreams of hell.
He really thought it would get better.

He wishes he couldn't remember who he was before hell. He wishes he couldn't remember Sam or his dad. But he still does.
They would be so ashamed, so utterly disgusted.
Dean pushes it away into the corners of his mind. He concentrates on the soul in front of him.
He buries the knife in his hand deep inside the soul's gut and he twists hard.
He pulls back and pushes back in with passion.
"Good. Good," he can hear Alistair practically cooing. "Maybe a little less push there. You don't want to end the fun too soon!"
Dean finds himself agreeing. He's in charge now and no one was going to hurt him ever again.

There isn't much Dean can tell himself to justify his actions. He isn't going to. He's going to sit there and wallow in his self-hate, that's what he's going to do.
Sonuvabitch! He's not going to cry, that he's definitely not going to do.
Dean bites his bottom lip harshly, trying to keep back the sobs. Damn it, he is not going to cry.
Cas is by his side almost instantly, wrapping his arms around him with no hesitation whatsoever. Dean doesn't push him away, doesn't even try to. He welcomes the feeling of Castiel's arms around him. Doesn't pay too much attention to how easily he accepts Castiel or how easily they fit together. His body leaning into Cas', his back pressed against Cas' chest and fuck this shouldn't feel so damn good. But it does. Cas' warm body sends jolts coursing through his veins.

"Shh shh Dean," Cas voice ghosts against his ear and Dean's shaking like a fucking leaf in the wind. The feel of Castiel's voice is his undoing, the dam breaks and he's sobbing like a friggin baby. The hot tears are spilling like the rain. He's never been more glad to see Sam's bed empty. So fucking glad that Sam isn't here to see him bawling like a baby.
Cas' hold on him tightens. He lets out a strangled sob. It sounds strange, even to his ears. He grabs onto Cas' trench coat, his hand clenching as the sobs keep coming and he buries his head in Cas' trench coat. The fucking trench coat.

With his other hand he swipes at the hot tears angrily. He hates the way he can feel his heart pounding painfully against his ribs or the burning feeling in his throat. His chin trembles, and he clasps his mouth shut.

But then Cas hand is rubbing circles on his back and he realizes that he doesn't need to hold back; that Castiel understands.
So he sobs, sobs hard as if his life depended on it. He's crying, he might as well get it all out on one go.

He shakes, he whimpers, and honest to god sniffles into Castiel's trench coat. Holds onto him and never wants to let go. He feels so fucking safe and that emotion is so foreign. Safe. All his life he's lived with the sort of terror that keeps people on their toes, something that he thought was necessary. That he knows was- is necessary. Scared he can understand, and he can prepare for. But this? This warm secure feeling that settles at the bottom of his stomach and fills him up almost entirely... he likes it. Likes the way Castiel's arms feel around him, the way Cas' body feels against him and yeah maybe that scares him a little. But for once he doesn't care. He won't even dwell on what this has become.

It's messy. It ends up leaving a big wet spot on Castiel's trench coat. Boogers and all.
Neither mind, not really. Dean's done with the crying. He holds onto Castiel's trench coat long after his whimpers and bawling subside.

Castiel lets him. He keeps his arms around Dean.

They stay that way for hours maybe. Time goes by differently, swallows them. Binds them together, makes everything else trivial. Makes the whole fucking apocalypse seem like a walk in the park.

When Castiel leaves, Dean feels like a part of him goes with him. He briefly wonders when he turned into a girl.

Torturing souls has never been this fun.
He likes the way he cuts into them, making masterpieces out of each soul. Loves the way blood oozes out of the cuts and runs down the skin.
He especially loves the way the skin peels off... oh the screams that follow. Those are like music to his ears. So fucking beautiful.
One toe, two toes, one pinky, one thumb. It's like a fucking song. And it is beautiful.

This time it's different.
Castiel can see it right away.

Hell's gone.
But Dean's not back. He just stares at the bloody knife in his hand.
He doesn't even look at Castiel, doesn't even show a hint of recognition. He just stares.
Castiel places his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean jerks away.

Dean's eyes are wide open. But he doesn't move. He's not crying, not making any noise at all and it's scaring Castiel; scaring him like he's never been scared before. Ever.
He looks into Dean's eyes and hates what he sees. He sees nothing. Dean's eyes are empty. They feel cold and unfamiliar, absent of Dean. Dean with his witty responses and love of pie.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice is tentative. Like he's afraid Dean will break if he's too loud, which is exactly what Castiel fears. He reaches out with his hand slowly.
His hand is on Dean's shoulder but Dean doesn't move. Dean doesn't say a word.
Castiel moves his hand up to touch Dean's cheek gently, feeling the stubble on Dean's cheek, cups Dean's face with his hands and stares into Dean's eyes.

He gets nothing. He's not sure of what to do; all he knows is that he wants- no needs to see Dean again. To see the spark in Dean's eyes come back. He's hit suddenly by the overwhelming realization that Dean is beautiful, like honest to god beautiful. It's pretty close to blasphemy and Castiel doesn't care because Dean really is fucking beautiful with freckles and all.

Sure Castiel had noticed that Dean wasn't bad looking, but lately it'd been more than that. Beautiful in ways that Castiel hadn't really thought about ever.
Now all he wants is to be able to tell Dean that he's beautiful and perfect.
He's still cupping Dean's face, still staring into his empty eyes when he decides what to do. He's going to kiss Dean Winchester. Kiss on the lips.

He doesn't hesitate. Just presses his lips against Dean's and hopes that Dean will react. At this point he doesn't care if he's smited by heaven or punched by Dean. He'd welcome the hit if it meant Dean was back.
But instead Dean's kissing him back, grabbing his neck and kissing him until Castiel's leaning into him, nearly on top on him.

"Cas," Dean moans into his mouth and it sounds so fucking beautiful to Castiel's ears.
Castiel's never kissed anyone, he's no expert but this feels right. Feels like he should've been doing this all along and doesn't know why he hasn't been.
Because right now he feels more alive than he's ever been. He knows without a doubt that Dean wants this too. That this makes him feel as alive as Castiel feels. He can feel it, as Dean clutches him tightly. Pulling Castiel closer and Castiel doesn't mind. He loves it in fact, loves being so close to Dean, and most importantly loves the man beneath him. For once in his life Castiel is willing to fall for man, willing to give his grace up for Dean Winchester. Yeah he's sure he'd do in an instant.

He thinks maybe he knew it from the moment he connected his lips with Dean's. That moment changed everything. It brought Dean back, and it brought them together.
So nothing else matters. Not the apocalypse or heaven or even that he's an angel. He'd give it up in a human heartbeat, just to take Dean into his arms. It's foolish but Castiel doesn't care. Doesn't care at all.
Now he thinks he can understand why Anna fell. Because this? This is worth it.
Because they're kissing, their lips are touching, and their bodies are moving against each other.

This, Castiel thinks, is where I'm meant to be. He can't help but run his fingers through Dean's hair because the feeling of Dean's tongue touching his? It feels like his body is on fire.
"Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas..." Dean chants into his mouth as he separates their lips. His eyes are closed tightly but he doesn't let go of Castiel and that's good enough for Castiel. Even if the kissing was really nice, this is nice too.
Their break brings Castiel back to reality, back to his heavy breathing and throbbing body. He feels elated. Giddy.

"God, Cas." Now Castiel is swimming in a sea of green moss because Dean's eyes are open and they're staring at him. They are stunning; full of life, full of Dean Winchester.
It gets better because Dean's crashing his lips against Castiel's hard. It's wet, it's sloppy and Castiel loves it.

The bad thing is that he really needs to go. Garrison duties call. Not only that but Sam Winchester is due back soon and Castiel knows that Dean isn't ready to tell Sam. He understands, he truly does. As long as Dean is happy, he's happy.
He breaks away, pushing himself away from Dean even if what he actually wants is to keep kissing him.

Dean frowns the moment Castiel pulls away.
"Dean I must go," is all Castiel can say. But I'll be back.
He stands with his head tilted before he presses his lips to Dean's one last time before he goes.
This time Dean's smiling like he understands and Castiel's glad to leave Dean with a smile on his face. Makes his whole existence brighten up.

It's another day at the beach. Dean loves the way the sand feels beneath his feet. Loves the sound of the wind and the waves. All he really needs is some food.
And Sam. They could go fishing.
And Castiel. They could go kissing.

Dean knows that he looks like an idiot. He knows. He doesn't need Sam to tell him.
"Dean you're grinning like an idiot... you know that, right?"
He doesn't tell Sam that he's grinning like an idiot, too. Mostly because it's actually kind of nice- okay fucking awesome to see Sam smiling like Sam. His Sammy. And not to mention that kiss. If he's honest with himself he's really looking forward to tonight.

Dean just grunts in return, not even trying to hide his stupid smile. Things are finally starting to look up and he is going to enjoy this as long as he can. All things considered, things will probably get worse. Apocalyptic worse. But right now he's smiling, Sam's smiling and he feels better than he's felt in a really long time.

Dean doesn't even try to fall asleep. This time it's not because he's afraid of his nightmares. For once he's not afraid of his dreams. Well he's always a little afraid. It's a force of habit. But this time he's afraid of what Cas will say or not do.

By the time Cas actually shows up, Dean's scared shitless. Thinking that maybe Cas isn't going to show up, that maybe it was all a mistake.

But it wasn't, at least for him. It was fucking amazing. It made him feel whole and actually feel.
He's not dumb. He knows he'd given up and that it was Castiel that brought him back with a kiss.

"Dean." It's ridiculous that even Castiel's voice can make his body shiver like a girl. But he doesn't care. He's too busy jumping Cas, pushing him against the motel's wall, running his hands down Castiel's side. He looks really, actually looks at Cas, taking his time, and fuck Castiel is beautiful. He feels like he's looking at the ocean all over again when he looks into those eyes. And those lips? They're just asking to be kissed.

"Cas..." Dean sighs once he's got Cas pressed against the wall. Cas actually smiles at that, maybe even smirks before he gives Dean a quick peck on the lips.
The moment their lips touch, Dean knows for sure this time that he kind of loves Cas. Loves him like he's never loved before. But as cliche as that sounds he does.
Castiel's lips come back, kissing Dean hard and fast, like a pro. Dean pushes against him, lurching his hips forward, moaning against his lips and fuck they need the bed now.

"Bed," Dean croaks out, pulling Castiel with him to the bed. They stumble to the bed, still touching and kissing.
Dean falls back onto the mattress bringing Castiel with him. Castiel falls on Dean with an oomph.
"Sorry," gasps Castiel, as he pushes himself up with his arms but he's smiling so he doesn't mean it.
Dean just smiles. He doesn't care because this is Castiel. And god he wants more. Wants to feel Castiel's skin.

"Clothes off," he orders, tugging Cas' trench coat. Or at least trying because his fingers feel clumsy. Cas helps him. He shrugs of the trench coat, then goes to unbutton his shirt. He goes slow, taking an occasional look at Dean with his head tilted. Until Dean realizes that he's still dressed and that maybe he should really get undressed too. That sends electricity through his body because soon they'll both be naked. Naked. And fuck that's hot.

He doesn't wait another second before he's tugging down his pants, his boxers and slipping his shirt off, all the while looking at Castiel. Castiel who is now entirely naked before him and if before he thought Cas was beautiful, this leaves him without doubt. At all. It's a fact.

"God, Cas! So hot, so fucking hot," he murmurs before he pulls Cas back on top of him. Until their bodies are touching, and their cocks are grinding and this is amazing. So he moans long and hard. Then Cas is kissing him, pressing his tongue against his lips and Dean opens his mouth. He lets Cas in. Both literally and metaphorically. Because this? This is Dean baring his soul to Castiel. This is big for both of them. This isn't just some hot sweaty sex that won't mean anything. He sees that, knows it like he knows that he loves Cas. Which is monumentally huge but he's pretty sure Castiel realizes that already, like he knows Cas loves him. Just knows.

Dean moves his hands, running them down Cas' chest. He doesn't hesitate before he's touching Cas' dick and he loves the way it feels against his palm. Apparently Cas loves it too. He lets out a small whiney noise, closes his eyes and throws his head back. Dean stops his movements.

He needs more.
He flips Castiel over, so that he's on top. Now he's straddling Cas. Cas' eyes open and they stare at him with such intensity it hurts. And he likes it. Loves the way the angel stares at him at like he's beautiful.

He doesn't think about it too much mostly because it scares him that Cas can love him so much and he's pretty sure he's looking at Cas the same way. So it's okay. They can have this moment.
He kisses Cas again, this time it's gentle and slow. He kisses his way down Castiel's throat and down his chest.
Cas moans, going rigid beneath. "Dean..." he breathes out and it's like music to Dean's ears.

He doesn't stop until he's right above Cas' dick. He swipes his tongue out across the head experimentally. It doesn't taste horrible. And then he hears Cas whimper. There's never been a more beautiful sound than Castiel moaning. There's never been a more beautiful sight either he realizes when he looks up at Cas. Cas who has his eyes shut tightly and his mouth slightly open.

So he brings himself back to Cas' cock because he wants to give this to Castiel.
He brings Cas' cock into his mouth and he sucks. With his other hand he strokes Cas' shaft. And Castiel moans, whimpers, and it is gorgeous.
He moves his tongue around Castiel's dick. Tasting Cas. He could lose himself doing this.

Cas has other ideas, he brings Dean up. And kisses him roughly, tasting himself in Dean's mouth. That just turns Dean on more. Their cocks are touching and fuck it feels like he could die right now and he wouldn't mind.

They thrust against each other, and their cocks are rubbing against each other. Their movements become quicker, hastier, both aching for release. Making whimpering noises. Touching. Biting. Gripping.
And they're grinding against each other, hot and hard.

Dean comes first. His whole body tenses as he arches of the bed, gripping Castiel painfully tight.
"Cas!" he cries out as his body shudders.

Castiel follows soon after. He practically screams out in pleasure and his face just made Dean's day.

The moment is brilliant. Like heavenly awesome.
Like he said he wouldn't mind dying right now. He really wouldn't. Because this moment right now? It's perfect. The whole world could end for all he cares.

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