for @spnhell, happy birthday!
There is little in the world that is better than waking up next to Dean, Castiel has decided.
In those moments, curled up together in their bed in the small apartment that they call homeāthe space they have carved out together, just for the two of themāhe could not be happier. The sheets are warm where they wrap around his body; Dean, in every possible place theyāre pressed together, is even warmer. Itās cozy and itās home and if Castiel never had to leave heād be a happy man.
His alarm, and the eight a.m. class that Professor Adler scheduled just to spite his students, have other ideas.
The musical tones cut through his sleep-hazed mindāsharp enough to rouse him, but not grating enough to irritateāand he grumbles under his breath. Itās been raining all night, he thinks, had been raining when they went to sleep tangled together and blissfully exhausted, and is still raining now in a light patter against their bedroom window. His motivation to get out of bed is low.
Castiel disentangles himself from Deanās octopus grip enough to reach for his phone and snooze the alarm. Does he bite the bullet and get up now, or give himself another five minutes?
Deanās arm tightens around his waist and pulls him gently back into the pool of warmth that theyāve created, away from the cool bite of the early morning air. āMorninā, baby,ā he murmurs, lips brushing drowsily over Castielās shoulders, and Castiel melts.
āGood morning,ā he says, his lips curling up until a smile as he leans back into Deanās embrace. Dean is solid and warm behind him, hair tickling the back of his neck and fingers skimming lightly over his stomach.
āYou planninā on leaving me?ā Dean says against his skin, pressing his forehead against the curve of Castielās spine. His voice is sleep-roughened, but Castiel can still hear his smile, feel it in the shape of Deanās lips on his skin.
If he wants to keep his willpower intact, he shouldnāt roll over, but thatās exactly what he does now, shifting in Deanās embrace until theyāre face to face. Heād been a lost cause from the moment Dean had pulled him closer and called him baby. āI should,ā he says, unconvincingly, because now he can see Deanās face in the faint light that filters through rain-dappled windows, those green eyes soft and amused. āI have to get to class, youāyouāre a bad influence.ā
The last few words come out somewhat more hoarse that Castiel had been expecting, because Dean chooses that point to tilt his head and brush his lips against the curve of Casās jaw, kissing up towards the soft spot on his neck that makes him forget about anything other than Deanās kisses, Deanās touch, Dean. āFuck,ā he breathes, and Dean chuckles, rich and warm.
āYour lecture date with Adler is more appealing than staying in bed with your boyfriend on a rainy day?ā He tsksquietly, scraping his teeth over the bolt of Castielās jaw while his fingers slide teasingly over his stomach. āGuess I didnāt do a very good job last night, then.ā
The words are said with the smug air of someone who does indeedknow that they had done a good job last night, if the comfortable ache in Castielās muscles is anything to go by, but thereās no way he can muster enough focus to deliver a witty comeback. Instead, all he can do is groan āyouāre insufferableā and curl his fingers around the curve of Deanās jaw, pulling him up into a proper kiss.
Itās lazy and relaxed, all slow-moving bodies and the drag of hands over skin, and Castiel is definitely going to have to email Adler with a bullshit excuse for his absenceābut that becomes the last thing on his mind when Deanās hands and mouth start to roam, and all of Castielās thoughts dissolve into pleasure and bliss and Dean.
