A random destiel drabble, enjoy!
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Mornings were Cas' favourite time of day.
The sun would stream through the gap in the curtains, giving the room a soft glow and a feel of home. He would sigh contently before shuffling back into the strong pair of arms that had been holding him all night, an agreement of love between them as they enjoyed this moment of perfection.
Mornings were calm and quiet, filled with lazily kisses and hushed words. Mornings were sacred in Cas' opinion because they the time of day he waited for the most. It wasn't at night when he would climb into bed next to Dean, the exhaustion clear in both of their movements as they silently took in the new scars and wounds they received that day. Nights were good, the relief of being together again after a day of hunting and blood but mornings were infinitely better.
Dean always woke up first, he didn't sleep as much as Cas did but it was a hell of a lot more than he use to before he called the bunker home. Since becoming human and being with Dean, Cas found he liked sleep a lot. He would curl himself against Dean, burying his head against the hunter's neck as Dean tangled their legs together. Cas' fingers would play with the short hair behind Dean's ear as Dean's fingers ghosted along the skin of Cas' back.
Then in the mornings he would open his eyes, a small flutter at first until they had adjusted to the change of the light but when he fully opened them it was a familiar, beautiful green staring back at him with a signature smirk and a carefree expression. Cas always loved Dean in the mornings, he was free and happy, the smile on his face was natural instead of forced, as it had been lately. Dean didn't speak much in the safe haven of their bedroom in the mornings; he didn't need too. The way he watched Cas said it all.
They never said 'morning' to each other, not once in all the months that had been sharing a bed. Instead Dean would bump his nose against Cas' or grip his hip a little tighter and Cas would know what he meant. Almost as if saying the word would ruin the peace around them.
Nothing mattered in this bedroom. It was a silence declaration they seemed to form. Nothing matters but them, not what they had done nor what was happening in their lives. This bedroom and their bed was just for them; even Sam knew not to knock on the door unless it was an emergency.
The room always seemed to smell like sex and Dean. A musk that was so unique and familiar Cas could smelt it anywhere and think of home, of family. The sheets were tangled around them as Cas' cold feet (because Dean complained they were always cold) rubbed against Dean's warmer ones in their cocoon of blankets and each other.
Cas was never sure who started kissing who, he was always too wrapped up in Dean's presence to notice when the press of lips were on his own. When he felt it though he always pressed himself as close to the hunter as possible, conveying every new emotion he was experiencing into each caress of his lips. Dean admitted once that it overwhelmed him sometimes; the way in which and the intensity at which Cas loved him. Cas always replied that Dean deserved to be loved and he was only happy he got that honour. That would make Dean uncomfortable and say something about 'chick-flick moments'.
It didn't matter though, Cas knew Dean felt the same way. He could feel it in every touch Dean made, every kiss he gave and every hushed whisper of those words when they were wrapped up under the sheets together breathing the same air.
Morning kisses always turned into morning sex and that was Cas' favourite type. It was Dean's as well. They didn't have to rush here, in the haven of their bedroom. It wasn't like at night when they were exhausted and it was rushed or in the middle of a case when they had to be quick and quiet in the back of the impala. No, mornings were all about them.
They would take their time with each press of skin, each trail of lips. Dean would always take the time to explore Cas' body with his hands even though they both knew Dean knew it better than his own. Cas never complained though, it almost felt like Dean was committing every detail, every line or freckle to memory and Cas relished that thought. He would return every caress with a kiss of his own, matching Dean's pace.
The sex was the same as everything else in the mornings, slow and passionate. Both taking their time, there was no need to rush as Dean's tongue explored Cas' mouth and Cas' hands knotted into Dean's hair.
Afterwards they would lay there together, breathing heavily and happily sharing heat as their bodies cooled down. Dean would wrap Cas up, bringing him back so his back was pressing against every line of Dean's chest. Dean would burying his head into Cas' shoulder and whisper those words he never use to be able to say into his ear.
Sooner or later they would reluctantly get up, Sam would be getting impatient and they both knew they still have a job to do. Dean would roll onto his back, letting Cas free of his embrace as he watched Cas remove himself from the bed and his hunter. The looks Cas gave him as he did so sometimes lead Dean to grabbing him back into bed. Sam got seriously pissed on the days when they wouldn't emerge from the bedroom until about lunchtime.
Today wasn't one of those days though as Cas stumbled to the bathroom to shower. He left the bathroom door open like he did every morning and it wasn't until Dean heard the spray of the water that he climbed out of bed himself and followed Cas into the bathroom, closing the door with his foot as he joined his angel.