Sunset

Dean is sure that if he were to look up, the sky would be alive with colors, rosy hues dancing alongside violets and oranges across the horizon, but he doesn’t care to do so because he can see traces of those colors painted across Castiel’s lips and cheeks and woven in between the silken strands of his hair and shining gossamer-like in his eyes. He doesn’t need the sky, or the stars or the moon or the sun, not when he has Castiel shining in his own light right beside him.