A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the long wait between updates. I was busy with another Supernatural story. /shameless self-pimp Anyways, I literally just wrote this, so please let me know what you think and point out any mistakes. I have no idea how a non-action-packed conversation grew to be over a thousand words long, but there you go. I hope you enjoy!

"Dean," Castiel says, distracting Dean from watching the dirty, twiggy ground beneath his feet. "Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean…"

"What?" Dean says. He mentally applauds himself at his patience. Earlier, when they first arrived in Purgatory, he would've snapped at Cas. Now, who knows how many days/weeks/months later, his tone is (relatively) calm.

"What?" Cas responds blankly.

"You were saying my name," Dean explains. "A lot. Over and over." He hadn't been imagining it, had he? Maybe this extended time and close proximity with Cas has made him crazy too.

Cas tilts his head and frowns, as if judging the validity of Dean's statement. Eventually, Cas says, "Yes, I was."

"So…" Dean says slowly, reaching into the not-so-considerable depths of his patience. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I just enjoy saying your name, Dean. Dean Dean Dean. It's so very different from my name. Dean, Castiel, Dean, Castiel, Castiel, Cast-ee-el. I have so many more syllables."

Of course, this is crazy talk, but by now, Dean just rolls with it. "We have the same amount of syllables when you go by Cas. That's why I call you Cas, 'cause your actual name is too long and weird."

"Oh," Cas says. "I always thought it was one of the ways that you expressed your affection for me."

"Um," Dean replies eloquently. But seriously, what do you even say to something like that?

Luckily, Castiel has already moved on. "Sam has a one-syllable name too."

"Yeah, well, it's really short for Samuel."

"Then you must have also shortened his name out of convenience. Is your full name longer as well, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean jokes. "My full title is actually Dean the Awesome, but I just go by Dean for convenience."

Castiel's brow furrows like he's really thinking that one through. Dean only feels a little bit bad. It's just so easy to mess with Cas.

"I don't think that's true," Cas eventually proclaims.

Dean grins. "Yeah, well, you don't know what you're talking about. You only have one name."

"Actually, in Enochian, my name is veh-un-fam-gisg-gon-graph-ur," Cas gargles.

Dean stares at him. Enochian's always impressed him a little, but that just sounded like gibberish. "I think I'll stick with Cas, thanks."

"Your name is gal-graph-un-drux. And Sam is fam-un-tal."

Dean kind of misses when all they would talk about was the Apocalypse and how to kill Cupids and stuff like that, with only the occasional off-duty chat here and there. He has no idea what to do with any of this random information.

"That's nice," he finally says.

"No, Dean, it's not nice. Enochian is not a nice language. It's always felt very sharp and spiky to me. English doesn't feel any better, with its hidden valleys and sudden drops. My favorite language has always been Finnish, because its vowels are so bright."

"I didn't realize bright vowels were necessary to enjoy a language." Dean doesn't know why he's still participating in this conversation (if you can even call it that). But Cas would prattle on even without his input, and it's not like there's anything better to do. Dean's really starting to understand the meaning of Purgatory as a waiting place – he's just here waiting for Castiel to find his marbles again. (Honestly, he's pretty sure his waiting is in vain.)

"Bright vowels aren't a must," Castiel explains patiently. "But they are certainly a contributing factor to the beauty of a language. They add a certain ihana melu."

"What's that mean?"

"Wonderful noise. It's Finnish. Could you hear how bright the vowels are, Dean?"

"If sound was light, I'd be blinded right now," Dean deadpans. Yeah, okay, maybe he's laying it on a bit thick, but what else is he supposed to do? He's surrounded by crazy 24/7. He can either ignore it, try to reason with it, or agree with it. Agreeing with it tends to give the best results, like right now, when Cas beams at him.

"Exactly! That's why I enjoy Finnish. Ooh, we should go to Finland, Dean."

"Uh, hate to rain on your parade, dude, but we're kinda stuck in Purgatory right now."

"Oh, right," Cas says, looking slightly crestfallen. Dean's still surprised sometimes by just how openly emotive this Castiel is. Yet somehow, he's harder to read and more unpredictable than the stoic, sane Castiel that was Dean's friend. (The stoic, sane Castiel who betrayed that friendship. But the more time Dean spends with Cas here, the less hung up he is about that. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.)

After a moment, Cas visibly brightens as a new idea hits him. "Perhaps after we escape, assuming we do escape, which is not certain because I tend to be bad luck, then we can travel to Finland."

"You're not bad luck, Cas, and I wouldn't care even if you were," Dean says for the millionth time. "And sure, what the hell, let's do that. I always wondered if Finnish chicks were hot."

"Excellent! And I'm not in a parade," Castiel adds, seemingly totally out of the blue.


"You said that you were 'raining on my parade.'" Cas does his exaggerated finger quotes again. (Oh joy, Dean's so glad that's one of his behaviors that's stayed despite – maybe because of? – his newfound insanity.) "But I am not in a parade."

"It's an expression, Cas," Dean says, not bothering to hold back an eyeroll.

Castiel frowns. "I see. I dislike English expressions as well. They are tiresome, and always smell of rotten fish."

Dean actually laughs a little at that. "You can't badmouth somethin' just 'cause you don't like it, Cas."

"No, really, they're awful," Cas insists. "But I don't like Finnish expressions either. They smell too strongly of coconuts."

Dean wonders how much of this weird language talk is pure craziness, and how much is coming from some odd angel mixing of the senses. He heard about that once. Sammy had mentioned it on a case. Syn-something – synthetic? Synestia? He's not sure exactly. But it was a weird condition where people could see music or hear colors or something. A strange kind of sensory mash-up, kind of like Cas is describing.

"What about my name?" Dean asks, vaguely curious. "Got any weird comments on that, besides its shortness?"

"Your name is wonderful, Dean. The vowels glow as brightly as your soul and the entire word smells like friendship and faith."

Cas looks up at him with guileless blue eyes, and Dean's once again reminded of just how much trust Castiel puts into him. He threw away his old life because of Dean – hell, he's thrown away several lives because of Dean – and he's always (well, almost always) followed Dean. Castiel acts like Dean knows everything and can lead Cas well. Of course, Dean's always known that he has no clue what he's doing, and anyone who puts any faith in him is bound to be disappointed. And now Castiel is even more vulnerable and he's still looking at Dean like Dean's the answer to all his problems.

"Friendship and faith don't have a smell," Dean finally scoffs, because once again, he has no clue what to do with that kind of statement. There's a tense edge to his voice that he can't quite hide.

Castiel glances away, tugging on the belt of his trenchcoat nervously. He must've picked up on Dean's whirlpool of emotions. He starts babbling anxiously. "Did I make you angry? I – I'm sorry. I can take it back. We don't have to talk about this anymore, we can play Charades instead, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry..."

"Cas, it's fine, calm down," Dean soothes, placing a hand on Cas's shoulder to still the hyperventilating angel. "I'm not upset. I was just – thinking about what you said. I like it. Really."

Dean holds onto Cas until he sees the franticness depart from his eyes, leaving them dazed but peaceful. "You like it?" Cas asks in a small voice.


Castiel smiles shakily. "I thought you might take offense to being called bright, because brightness isn't very 'manly.'" He does the finger quotes again.

Dean shrugs. "It's cool. I can work with bright. Swords are bright."

It looks like Cas has calmed down, so Dean starts walking again. Castiel, as always, follows him. Dean tries not to overthink it.

"Sam's name is also bright."

"Yeah?" Dean says. "Tell me more."

Cas is still looking a little jumpy, but he happily starts explaining the level of Sam's "shine" to Dean. Dean thinks of all the times, recent and long ago, that he's let Castiel down.

He'll do anything he can to help his friend now. He needs to live up to his "wonderful" name somehow.

A/N: The Enochian is from Wikipedia. I spelled out the letters of each name phonetically. Also, the neurological condition Dean is thinking about is synesthesia. The most common form is perceiving numbers or letters as inherently colored, although there are many different types. All involve a meshing of the senses. I've always thought it would be incredibly cool to have.