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He hasn't seen Cas is weeks - months even. They hadn't exactly left on the best of terms. Dean had given him his ring, his first ever charge's ring, as the last breaths crept from his dying body.
Which is why the sight before him makes his mouth dry.
Cas, his human, his exception, is standing right in front of him; around his neck is the ring he once refused to ever remove. The expression on Cas' face is dangerous, eyes begging him, pleading with him, not to fight. He wasn't sure how Cas would react to seeing him again. The whole 'I'm not dead' thing between them got old pretty quick. He still looks shocked though, his soul pulsing with tinges of hope and love. The bags under his eyes make him appear older, wearier than Dean can remember - he had committed every inch of that face and body to memory. Dean had not even considered that Cas would miss him, would grieve or worry about him.
Why would he?
Flying the few meters between them (if for nothing other than the way Cas jumps slightly) his fingers brush gingerly against the cool metal of the ring, palm coming to rest on Cas' chest. The thud of his heart is steady, if not a bit erratic. He closes his eyes. He did ok, his vessel is safe, breathing.
"Dean..." Cas swallows, the movement of which Dean can feel as the muscles jump beneath his palm.
That night, Cas fucks into him slowly and passionately. There's too much left unsaid, too many emotions boiling over and spilling out into the desperate carnal affection. Just before he comes, Dean looks into Cas' eyes, hand clutching the ring in his palm, dragging his face closer. His lips brush against the whisps of Cas' hair, face stroking against the soft brown locks.
"I'm yours." He breathes into his charges ear, the shudder and prayer of his name as Cas comes sending him over the edge too.