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Cas’s feet were like oversized, ginormous bricks. Dean didn’t like having them pressed up, all cold, against his legs, and he really didn’t like waiting for Cas to wake up so he could move them. Cas was a light sleeper and a night owl. Now, Dean was no morning person, but it was really ridiculous to see Castiel, famed angel of the Lord and shit, stumble out of bed, curse at the floor for being too cold.
Dean was no mother, either, but it was courtesy to have a hot coffee ready for both of them in the morning. Like his mom had done for his dad. For now, though, he just lay at Cas’s back, watching the rise and deep, gorgeous fall of his breath. In and out. It had been a month- and a month was not that long unless you were measuring in the length of most of Dean’s relationships- that Castiel had been back.
The Empty was cold. Alone. Cas had relayed that much. (Dean didn’t like to think about it.) So while cold toes were his least favorite to wake up to in the morning, he put up with it. He put up with all of Cas. And he got the same kind of treatment. ‘Hngh.’ What was that noise? Outside of, you know, sex, Cas never sounded like that.
‘Cas?’ he whispered. 8:00. They were on a new case today, just a short one compared to the wendigo they’d caught last week.
Wendigos were bitches, yeah, but it had been a novel and gorgeous experience to wake up in a camping tent with an angel draped over his back, snoring like a lion. A good experience. (Cold toes and all.) ‘Dean,’ he said quietly, pushing his head into Dean’s chest. Dean slowly began to stroke his fingers through the curly locks at his leisure.
‘That’s me,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. Cas sighed and struggled to bring himself to sitting up.
Dean just smiled as he saw it. Cas was cute. Shit- that- it always felt good to say that. And mean it, and- and be able to say it out loud. Yeah. It was good. ‘Coffee, Dean,’ Cas said, frowning severely.
The corner of Dean’s lips quirked up. ‘You sure? My lap seems pretty comfortable.’ Castiel draped his arms around Dean’s waist, nodding slowly.
His eyes were half closed. Heavy. ‘Up and at ‘em, then!’ Dean announced cheerfully, hauling an indignant Castiel along with him to the kitchen. They were glued at the hip, lately, and Cas didn’t let go as the drip coffee started. They sat in chair across from each other as Castiel carefully inspected the morning paper and Dean carefully inspected the research they had on this ghost. This was the newlywed phase. He could hear Sam stomping up the steps like the bitch of a little brother he was, but, eh, it was what it was.
‘De-ean!’ Sam called, knocking on the door.
‘Come in, Sammy!’ Dean replied, disgruntled at the disturbance to their early morning peace.
The frustration dissolved like clouds when he saw the cheerful grin on Sam’s face. ‘How’s Hanna today?’
‘Just as dead as she was yesterday,’ Dean snorted.
Castiel shot them a quick frown. ‘Don’t speak ill of the dead.’
‘Alright,’ Dean agreed easily. Cas, before he could hide it, smiled. A quick, small smile that brightened up his blue eyes and made Dean flutter in his chest like a damn girl.
‘I love you,’ Cas told him. A pretty, gentle smile was on his face.
For a moment, Dean’s words stuck in his throat. Like they had a little more than a month ago. They stuck, stubborn. Every time he said it back, new euphoria came over him, new joy, and his heart was already soaring with how it felt.
‘Love you back.’