Fics like six hundred sundays (and many more)

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees. ~~~ "When did it stick for you? When did your six hundred Sundays start?" Dean asks. "It never started," Castiel admits. "It simply never stopped. My love for you is eternal—existing forever, without a beginning or an end." Visually, Castiel's love is a circle. Aurally, it's an echo. Kinesthetically, it's breathing. Overall, it is not fate, and it is not chance; it is choice. He would not choose differently if he could go back and do it again, and that's why he didn't choose differently from the start.

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