Inspired by John Donne's poem "The Good Morrow"
Dean woke slowly, stretching the kinks out of his body. He wondered briefly why he was sore before the previous night began to come back to him slowly. Disconnected moments and thoughts washed over him in waves and he remembered using muscles he hadn't in months, maybe even over a year. He was going to roll over onto his side but was prevented from doing so by a head resting against his bare chest.
"Good morning, Dean." Castiel turned his head up hesitantly to look in Dean's eyes. He was afraid of what he might find there—regret, anger, shame. Any of these were perfectly reasonable and expected responses from the man holding him and yet he saw none. Instead he saw confusion, tinged with something like fondness.
"You're still here?" His voice changed from something akin to wonder to take a bitter edge, though he couldn't bring himself to feel it much as he might have the night before. "I would have figured you'd have flown off by now. That's what you do, right?"
Castiel flinched, "I know I have a lot to make up for, Dean, and I know we have a lot to talk about. But I'm not leaving again." His voice became uncertain, "Unless you want me to…"
"No, no. I do NOT want you to leave. But… can we save the talking for later?" His voice softened and Castiel could tell he was embarrassed, "I want to forget it all. Just for a little while."
"Are you happy, Dean?" Castiel whispered.
"Yeah Cas, I am." Dean replied and raised his eyebrows, silently posing the other man the same question.
He nodded, "Finally." Cas sat up, moving so he could see Dean's eyes more easily.
They stayed close to each other, wrapped up in their own little world. The previous night changed everything, or so it seemed. In that moment all the stress of impending conversations on their relationship and pressure to stop the forces of evil ceased to exist. The connection between them had always been strong but now the gravity of it seemed strong enough to move whole galaxies. Neither of them had ever felt this way before and to them it was as though none of the bad things had ever happened to them. Dean had never felt betrayed and Cas had never had to learn the hard lesson between what was right in theory and in practice. Nothing had ever existed but them, their love. Soft kisses passed between them.
Later, as they prepared to meet and discuss the past (although the times they had hurt each other might have been just as easily forgotten, they both knew they would need to face it sooner rather than later) both Dean and Castiel tried to remember their lives before they had met each other. But for both of them, the memories seemed gray and dull compared to the world as they saw it now. The world with each other.