Castiel is leaning against the headboard of the bed. Smoke tingles the back of his throat as he inhales deeply. The tip of the cigarette brightens up a bit.
Door to the balcony are wide open. Light breeze comes through them causing curtains to rustle slightly. Barely visible shadows dance on the floor. The house is in the middle of nowhere, away from the people, from the noise of the city. The only sound is ever-present tick of cicadas. That and Dean's quiet breathing.
It's after midnight, but Castiel can't sleep. He's looking at the sky, at the faraway space. At the stars he used to visit that are now mocking him from afar. They are so out of reach it causes him a physical pain. So he smokes. When he's holding a cigarette, he feels the closest to heaven he can possibly get these days.
Not to be misunderstood - he is happy with his life. He has Dean by his side, and he loves him deeply. What more - the feeling is mutual, and it's one of the very few reasons Castiel was able to accommodate as a human.
But after day, eventful as it may be, comes night. Sometimes on those sleepless nights Dean would sit with him, his hands around him, holding him tight in silent comfort. He usually gets sleepy after their late night activities though, and Castiel doesn't want to keep him awake on a whim. He takes his time to watch him drift away into sleep instead. Dean's steady breath gives him a feeling of solidity, something to lean on to. He relies on that more than on anything else in his life.
Castiel exhales another puff of smoke, long lost in his thoughts. Warm hand wraps around his waist, taking him back to the present. He gives his lover a small smile. Dean winces at him when he notices the cigarette. "You said you'll quit," he says as he takes the item out of his hand and puts it down in an ashtray. His arm crosses Castiel's chest as he noses at his jaw. Castiel turns his head and kisses his forehead.
"Tomorrow," he mumbles against Dean’s skin, and they stay like that until the morning comes.