The only way to get into the bunker is through a door; it being underground, there are no windows. So when the boys are home, their early-morning view is the old off-white paint of their bedroom walls, instead of a glassy, wood-framed sunrise illuminating clouds as they drift across the sky.
By this time, Dean is awake. His bed groans under him as he sits up, muscles sore from last night's hunt. Dean shoves off the bed to go do his morning rounds before washing up - before anything else.
He goes to Sam's room. Dean puts his ear to the door and listens as Sam mumbles lazily in his sleep. Hands light, he carefully opens the door and peers in. The corners of Dean's mouth turn up a little when he sees that Sam is still asleep, with his legs tangled in the sheets, long arms hanging off the bed.
Sam was almost always taller than Dean- after they hit puberty, anyway. Dean is a few years older than Sam, but there were times when he would look at him with envy, like when Sam was 5'7" his freshman year, while Dean was only 5'5" on his first day of high school, and his brow would wrinkle, only to be smoothed by laughter and smiles from people who barely knew him, and had nothing to do with "the family business", friends that Dean would only have for as long as it took Dad to get to the bottom of one bogus lead after another, or finish whatever hunt they were in town for, but that - that was enough for Dean Winchester.
Dean stands in the doorway for a moment, till his brother's soft snores kicked up his mussed bed hair. He takes a step back out into the hallway and closes the bedroom door.
Next, Dean walks over to Castiel's room. He slowly opens the door and gazes inside. Cas is also asleep, laying on his side with the covers tucked under his chin and his pale, bare shoulders exposed. His breath came out slowly and steadily through his slightly parted (and pinker than usual) lips. His dark, tousled hair is too short to fly up like Sam's, but long enough that it flares up nicely in the front.
Dean squints as he notices how the lines on Castiel's face lay smooth in his sleep, and he tries to ignore the blood rushing to his cheeks. Cas's facial features looked surprisingly relaxed compared to his usual serious expression, making him appear a bit younger, like the day Dean first saw him, him and his deep-end-of-the-pool eyes.
Castiel starts to move, and Dean tentatively steps out of the room, a little tense, but gazes until Cas turns over and reveals his sinewy back.
Dean takes one last look, closes the door, and continues to perambulate the bunker, restlessly checking and double-checking locked doors, flicking through the news...