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It happens as they're driving back to the bunker from a case, riding high on the victory and the lack of bruises. Sam looks out the window, at the sun slowly sinking down beyond the horizon line.
"That's a really nice sunset. Look at that shade of orange, Dean."
Dean sighs and rolls his eyes, "Of course you'd notice the sunset, Samantha."
Cas sighs in the back seat and says, with the usual amount of gravity, "I wish I could see orange."
It takes Dean a moment to process Cas' words, and then Dean slams on the brakes, screeching to a stop, the Impala a solid black spot among the endless miles of grassy plains.
Dean spins around and gapes at Cas. "You can't see orange?"
Castiel just shrugs, and states, "I am incapable of seeing warm colors. Only shades of blue, grey, and purple."
Sam nods at this, pointing out, "This is why they have superior eyesight. It probably helps with seeing souls and demons as well."
Dean just blinks. "But c'mon man. To have never seen orange? Or red? Or even fucking yellow? What about the fucking sun, Cas? You ever see the sun?"
"Just because I don't see it in the same color spectrum doesn't mean that it becomes invisible, Dean," comes Cas' graveled response.
Dean puts the car in gear and starts forward slowly, muttering, "But to never have seen fuckin' yellow, man. Never seen frickin' fire. Fucking A."
They go home, and Dean crashes, but only after lying awake for hours wondering how to get Cas to see the warmth of things.
It comes to him from a nightmare, strangely enough. It's the recurring one about hellhounds, where Dean is ripped open, and dragged to hell, and then forced to see them attempt to rip his baby brother apart.
When he wakes up, he can still feel the faint outline of the glasses scorched with holy fire sitting on his face.
Then it comes to him. If he can see things he's not supposed to see with the glasses, who's to say they wouldn't do the same for Cas?
Dean throws the blankets over and leaps out bed, sliding down the hallways to find the stash of holy oil and a pair of glasses he'd found earlier.
After ten minutes of frantic searching, Dean hears footsteps and yawning, probably Sam.
Sam rounds the corner into the room and rubs his hair back, yawning again. "What're you doing, Dean?"
"Holy oil," Dean says, ripping through a box of trinkets and baubles.
Sam huffs and shuffles to the right of Dean and opens a chest and pulls out the jar of holy oil. Dean snatches it up and whips out the glasses.
He burns them right there in front of Sam, on the floor. Once they're thoroughly burned, he shoves the holy oil into Sam's questioning hands.
Dean leaps up and makes his way to the main room, where Cas is leaning over a tomb of some kind that appears to be written in hieroglyphs.
"C'mere sunshine," Dean calls out. Cas looks up and straightens.
"Dean," he calls, surprised. "You're up early."
It's then that Dean notices the clock on the wall displaying that it's nearly five thirty in the morning. Dean's original plan to just hand Castiel the glasses and have him put them on goes out the window in favor of a new idea: the sunrise.
Sam comes stumbling into the room just as Dean grabs Cas' sleeve and drags him away, up the stairs and out of the bunker.
Cas doesn't question Dean, just follows him unerringly and something warmer than the sunrise he's about see fills Dean's chest.
The sky is still dark with a few scant stars, light just pulling up the black in the distant east.
Dean just waits, watching the light spill into the sky, milky and white, and definitely not the rich, warm colors Dean wants to show Cas. Cas just waits, mind probably working to understand why Dean has dragged him out here at all-fuck-it time of the morning.
It's only due to a life of driving into and away from the sun that Dean knows when the sun is going to paint the sky warm. He plucks the glasses out of his pocket and carefully slips them onto Cas' face. Dean smiles at him in the fast dissipating gloom, before stepping back to watch with Sam.
They see the orange first. The sky had appeared almost completely empty of clouds, but now the small wisps are burning against the sky, bright lines of solid orange. Dean can hear Cas' intake of breath - a near fainting reaction for the angel.
Next, they notice the purple melting into the red. Sam and Dean had seen lots of shades of red - mostly the differing shades of blood, from fresh to brown stains - but the angel had never once even remotely seen this vivid aspect of life.
They watch the sky paint itself, and somehow Dean knows that this is one of the best sunrises he's ever seen. Dean can just see Castiel's profile from this angle, but it's stunning.
Cas is stunning.
His hair is a tangled halo of yellow highlights and his face is bathed in quiet joy and Dean feels he might just explode.
Then Cas smiles and Dean knows it's all over when he sighs and suddenly Cas turns to look at him and of course the sun chooses that exact moment to shine onto Dean.
Cas lets out a gasp, and his hands, seemingly against Cas' will reach up. They land softly on the bags under Dean's eyes, but Dean knows that's not what Cas is looking at. He's seen the whole world in shades of purple his whole life; the evidence of Dean's lack of sleep wouldn't look new or exiting.
"Your eyes," Castiel murmurs lowly. Dean doesn't quite understand. His eyes are just - then Dean realised that it's not just golds and red and oranges that Cas has been missing out on, it's the color green too.
Cas' thumb gently brushes under Dean's eye before slowly pulling back and resting at Castiel's side once more.
Dean swallows and finally notices that Sam is gone, headed to the bunker most likely.
Cas turns away and he and Dean finish watching the sun rise together.
They stay out, Cas staring at everything, taking in the warm tones of dirt and the sun filtering through the leaves and even the bees - oh sweet fuck the bees.
Cas had exclaimed and said that they were much better in color - "A wonderful composition of colorful contrast."
They're laying in a small cleaning of grass, Dean just basking in the sun while Cas takes in the sight of the sun.
Castiel's low voice interrupts Dean's thoughts. "I think I know why you call me sunshine."
"Hmm?" Dean sluggishly opens his eyes and turns to face Cas, who's lying stiffly on the ground.
"I believe I now understand why you call me sunshine," Cas repeats.
Dean props himself up with his forearms. "And why's that, man?"
"It's a human endearment, which I already assumed. However. I couldn't understand why anyone would call another person sunshine, but now I believe I may have an answer." A flush spreads across Cas' cheeks as he continues, "The sun brightens people's lives. I suppose, to you, I must be helpful and insofar, I brighten your life."
Dean's brow furrows. "No, Cas, not quite it, man," Dean admonishes gently. "You brighten my life, period. No amount of usefulness to measure. And," Dean smiles, "sometimes you even glow."
Castiel just stares at him, and Dean knows exactly what's going to happen before it does.
Cas' hands reaches forward and hooks around Dean's head and Dean shifts forward. There's no awkward pause, no 'are we really doing this?', just Dean and Cas connecting at the lips.
There's no explosion, or fireworks. Just a quiet hum in Dean's chest that makes Dean throw an arm over Cas' waist and pull him closer.
They pull back and Dean smiles at Castiel. Cas' fingers move from being tangled in Dean's hair to the corner of his eye.
"How I could have gone so long and missed this is impossible for me to understand," Cas whispers. "But," he smiles, "your soul is just as beautiful."
Dean feels the heat in his cheeks. He pulls Cas on top of him, trenchcoat puddled around Dean's waist, Cas' hands on Dean's chest and shoulder.
Dean feels something choke up his throat and the only thing he gets out is, "Glad I'm such a pretty sight for you, sunshine."