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Summary
Dean fucked himself. Not in the fun way. In the metaphorical one.
He fucked himself because he’s laying here in his bed, fingers on his lip, thinking about the man who kissed him ten hours ago. Who kissed him goodbye. The man with eyes so blue, so blue the sea constantly throws fits about it. All those storms, it’s the ocean being angry that Castiel’s eyes stole its colours.
The man who kissed him and left him with nothing but the promise of coming back.