“Everything’s so dull now.”

Dean glances over to where Castiel is sitting, cross-legged and leaning against the Impala’s tire. He sees Sam looking over from across the car and there’s a moment of silent debate when their eyes meet. Who gets to deal with this one? Sam nods pointedly to Castiel and Dean knows it’s his turn.

He slides to the ground beside the fallen angel. Castiel has his hand raised to his face, watching an ant crawl over his fingers. “I used to see the life in everything,” he says. “Souls in a million different colors.” The ant bites him and he shakes it off, eyebrows furrowing. “Nothing’s bright like that anymore, Dean.”

“Nothing?” Dean tips his head back to stare up at the sky, clear and cloudless blue. He knows how it feels for everything to seem colorless - there have been months where all he’s seen is the red of blood and grey, grey everything. He closes his eyes and hears Castiel shift beside him.

When he opens them again, Castiel is above him, knees planted on either side of Dean’s legs. Blue eyes replace blue sky, slightly confused but sharply focused. Sam makes awkward shuffling noises and says something about being off over there if they need him.

“No. Maybe not nothing.” Castiel leans forward until their foreheads are touching. His eyelids drop and his head tilts just to the side and Dean swallows thickly, searching the other man’s face. Their noses brush. Castiel moves closer, hands ghosting over Dean’s sides.

Dean reaches up, taking control, fingers moving through Castiel’s hair and pulling him down. Castiel sighs against his mouth, smiles. His eyes are still closed when they part.

“You are very bright, Dean.”