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Warm is the first thing that registers to Dean as consciousness softly creeps up on him. Then, safe .
Familiar breath huffs on the back of his neck, strong arms looped loose and gentle around his torso. Home.
Behind him, Cas shifts slightly, the cadence of his breath changing as he gently wakes. A hint of stubble tickles at the nape of Dean's neck as Cas presses the softest of kisses to the knob of his spine.
"Happy Birthday, Dean." Cas' rumbling greeting draws Dean the rest of the way into the waking world. It’s not jarring, as Dean might have feared, given the anxiety and dread that knotted his stomach and kept sleep from him the night before.
Forty-three, huh? Dean rolls over in Cas' arms, the warmth of his surroundings suffusing his chest at the sight of Cas' eyes crinkled in an unbearably fond gaze.
Cas’ mouth is quirked up in a small smile, which Dean can’t help but press a chaste kiss to, almost unconsciously. He trails more in a line of them across Cas’ cheekbones and down until he’s nuzzled in the angel’s neck, eyes falling closed into the sensation.
Without meaning to, Dean’s thoughts turn over that sense of comfort, that warmth in his head. It seems impossible in the moment that this is the only birthday in his life that he’s felt this safe, but hindsight is cruel to his memories, and all he can conjure in the moment are cold, lonely and frightened moments that he’d rather just forget. Especially in a moment like this.
“What are you thinking?” Dean feels Cas’ lips against his ear in a half-murmur, half-kiss and he huffs a faint, self-deprecating laugh.
“You know me, sweetheart.” He mumbles into the hollow of Cas’ throat. “Nothing good.”
Cas pulls back to place a kiss right between his eyebrows, not quite furrowed, but threatening it, and Dean’s laugh grows more genuine, sweeter.
“I do know you,” Cas returns, in a voice more sincere than Dean ever expects. “And there’s plenty of good in there.” He presses his forehead to Dean’s as if he’s trying to press his very thoughts inside.
Dean’s face alights with heat, and he reels Cas in for another kiss, less soft, less chaste, but just as sincere as his words. He feels Cas’ smile widen against his mouth, pleased but not smug at the reaction.
Dean’s hands have found their way into Cas’ hair, making even more of a mess of the dark curls, and he feels Cas’ arms tightening around his waist, one hand splayed wide and hot on the small of his back - not clutching at him, but simply holding him close against his chest.
Cas hums in satisfaction and Dean revels in him. The heat of his mouth, the strength of his arms, the comfort of their bodies pressed together so perfectly it’s as if they were built to fit this way. Dean chases him as Cas pulls away, quiet amusement sparkling in heavy-lidded blue eyes.
“We should stop,” Cas declares, something in his tone obviously teasing, but the hand on Dean’s back traces a tantalising pattern as he speaks. “You have to get started on breakfast soon.”
“Oh, I’m cooking you breakfast?” Dean bites at Cas’ earlobe and is immensely satisfied at the reaction it pulls from him. “On my birthday?”
“You know no one in this house enjoys cooking quite as much as you,” Cas reasons, the mirth in his voice unmistakable. “The gift is no one else making a mess of your beloved kitchen.”
Dean draws back to look him in the eye, smirking. “And what if I’d prefer to have you for breakfast?” Dean’s smirk grows at the brief look of frustrated want that flits across Cas’ face, but unfortunately he remains firm.
“You can have me anytime you like. I’ll be here.” Once again his tone carries a deeper sincerity than Dean has any strength to stand against. Dean shoots him a dark look, but his eyes are still crinkled at the corners, and he’s certain it comes off as more of a pout than a glare, not that he’d ever admit it.
“Fine,” He concedes. “You’re lucky I love you.”
Again, that unbearably fond smile takes Dean’s breath away as Cas replies , “Yes. I am.” Cas kisses him once more, on the very tip of his nose. “And, luckily for us both, I love you too.”