Castiel stood, leaning against a sink that was only real in Dean’s mind. He hadn’t worked out he was dreaming and Castiel wasn’t about to tell him, he was being contrary enough as it was.
Most humans faced with an Angel would be overwhelmed but not Dean. Most people saved from hell would be grateful but not Dean. Most people would feel special doing God’s work but not Dean.
It cut both ways though, for some reason that Castiel couldn’t place. Most Angels wouldn’t personally drop into their charge’s dreams to chat but here he was, stood by a sink.