Dean wakes up alone, but the sheets are still warm, so Cas probably isn't far.

He takes a moment to take stock before he opens his eyes or moves. There's a fierce ache in his ass, hips, and legs, but otherwise, he seems to be fine. Better than fine, actually, he's amazing. The only thing outshining the pain in his lower half is the way his heart is thudding hard in his chest, a celebratory beat he can't seem to stop.

Cas wants me. Cas wants me. Cas wants me.

He starts to smile.

… Cas fucked the hell out of me last night.

"I know you're awake," Cas' voice, deeper than usual with morning roughness, is heavily laced with amusement. "You're a terrible actor."

The smile doesn't fade from his face even a little. "I'm a great actor," Dean protests. "You just caught me in a moment."

When he opens his eyes, he's greeted to easily the best sight he's ever woken up to. Cas is leaning casually in the doorway, his hands occupied by two steaming mugs. He's in a pair of tight black briefs, showing off his lean, muscular body. He's smiling softly at Dean, affection and warmth in his eyes.

"Morning, Cas," Dean croaks, a little overwhelmed by the wave of emotion rising in his chest.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas replies as he makes his way from the door to set both mugs on the side table. He climbs onto his side of the bed and sits propped up against the headboard.

Dean scoots up to sit next to him, wincing, close enough that their bare shoulders press together. He keeps the sheet tucked around his waist. He's not sure why, God knows Cas saw everything there was to see last night, but it makes him feel a little better, more secure. Cas passes over a cup of coffee, which Dean sips gratefully.

As the warmth sinks into him, an abrupt thought occurs to him. "Shit, Sam-"

"Is already on his way to school," Cas soothes immediately. "I sent him and Kevin on their way before I got coffee."

Dean cocks an eyebrow, momentarily derailed. "Dressed like that?"

"… Of course not. I put a robe on."

Dean grins. "So you took the robe off for me, huh? Wanna impress me, Cas?"

Cas smiles wryly. "Always."

Dean blushes at the sincerity in Cas' voice, looking back down at his coffee. "Thank you," he says softly, suddenly shy as all hell. "For taking care of Sam."

Cas' big, warm hand lands on his thigh. He can feel the heat baking through the thin sheet, incredibly comforting. It looks good there, like it belongs there.

"Of course, Dean," Cas says, his voice unreadable but warm.

There are a few beats of awkward silence before Cas sighs. "Dean," he says, seemingly resigned. "I meant what I said last night, but I understand if you feel… Differently this morning. If you don't-"

"No!" Dean doesn't really mean to shout it, but he kinda does, anyway. He turns to look at the man next to him and lays the hand not holding a cup of coffee over Cas', twining their fingers together on his thigh.

"I do," he insists. "I do want this, like… A lot. I just…" He laughs, a stilted and forced sound. "I guess I've just never done the 'morning after' thing."

Cas tilts his head. "Never?"

"Uh… I mean, here and there, but I usually dip right after." Dean smiles a little. "Never woke up in a bed that wasn't mine."

Cas smiles back. "And how do you like it?"

"Well, if a sexy thief is going to deliver coffee in his underwear every time, I'll have to do it more often."

Cas' smile brightens considerably. "I think that can be arranged."

Once Dean's stomach rumbles loud enough to remind them both that it's time for breakfast, Dean reluctantly goes back to his own apartment to dress for the day. He pulls on clean underwear, a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans, then hurries back to the shared apartment.

He finds Cas standing just outside the front door, one hand raised to open it. Instead, he's smiling at Dean, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Good morning, Dean."

"Morning, Cas."

While they're not going to hide the change in their relationship, they've decided not to broadcast it, either. If someone asks or implies, they'll be honest, but they don't want to announce it, necessarily. Cas wasn't opposed to the idea, but just the thought of it made Dean blush and hide his face in the older man's shoulder, so he relented.

It's not that Dean is anything but awed and proud and ecstatic about his relationship with Cas (his relationship with Cas!). It's just that, in the past, any attention paid to him or his actions has been overwhelmingly negative. There's some a part of him, small and irrational, that fears the same will happen this time.

"Are you ready, little one?"

Dean smiles. "Yeah."

Cas opens the door to the shared apartment without further comment and leads the way in. Dean takes a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves, and follows him.

As usual, Benny and Garth are in the living room. This time, Benny is playing the mark, while Garth is pretending to lift his wallet. In Dean's experience, he's only successful about fifteen percent of the time. Charlie's here, too, working on her laptop intently.

Everything is quiet for a beat when they walk in, just long enough for Dean to relax.

And then Charlie lets out a whoop and starts to clap, which the other two boys immediately join in on.

Dean scowls. How did she know? "What?"

"UST be gone!" Charlie crows, laughing. "Thank God!"

Benny's chuckling. "It's all over your face, brotha. Yours, too, boss."

There are actual, literal tears in Garth's eyes. "I'm so happy for you!" He's beaming.

Cas chuckles and places a hand at the small of Dean's back. "All right, all right. Let's all get back to work, then."

That night when Sam gets home, Dean is in their apartment, debating the pros and cons of taking an entire change of clothes with him to Cas' place tonight, or just pajamas to walk back in. As soon as he lays eyes on the kid, he knows he's in for it.

Sam looks incredibly smug. "Heya, Dean."

"Hi, Sammy," Dean says hesitantly.

"So-o-o," Sam says, drawing the word out longer than it needs to be, in Dean's esteemed opinion, "a little birdie told me about a little something-something going on last night."

"You spend too much time with Charlie."

Sam chuckles a little as he leans in the doorway of Dean's bedroom. "So is this a thing now? Between you and Cas?"

Dean can feel his cheeks heating in a blush. "Uh… Yeah, it is."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Dean wrinkles his nose because the word "boyfriend" is painfully high school, but nods. "Yeah, I guess."

"Is it serious?"

"I think so?"

Sam smiles. "Good. I'm, uh. I'm happy for you, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Aw, jeeze, Sam. Thank you? I guess? Enough of that. No more chick flick moments, bitch."

"You love chick flicks, jerk."

The next few weeks, maybe not much changes, but they are by far the best weeks of Dean Winchester's life. If he was the kind of person who used the word "bliss," that's exactly how he would describe it. As it is, he leaves that kind of language to Cas.

He and Cas were close before, but they're completely inseparable now. Dean spends most nights in Cas' bed, either being fucked within an inch of his life (amazing) or just being held (just as amazing, if not more). They usually share a cup of coffee before Dean goes back to his apartment to make breakfast for Sam and see the kid off to school.

In the afternoons, they go back to the shared apartment together. Sometimes, Cas still goes into the office to work, but more often now he stays and coaches them through paces and drills. If not, Dean will still sit with Charlie while she tries to teach him to use the internet, or he'll go out with Benny to grocery shop (never without pressing a gentle, shy kiss to Cas' lips in farewell, if only to see the way the older man's eyes light up at the affection).

The evenings still, as always, belong to Cas.

Both crowd and roof work were always amazing with Cas, but they're fucking transcendent now. Their nonverbal communication is insane, able to communicate intricate ideas with just their facial expressions, a twitch of a wrist, or a hundred other subtle cues. Dean gets closer and closer to bringing home as much as Cas does.

On their days off, Cas will sometimes accompany Dean to Bobby's tavern, or take him to one of the dozens of nice restaurants in the area that Dean never thought he'd be able to step foot in. Sometimes they'll stay in, and Dean will show Cas one of the hundreds of movies he's never seen ("Should I be jealous of this Ford person, then?" "Cas, babe, everyone should be jealous of Harrison Ford.") while they cuddle on Cas' couch under a throw.

There are other changes, too, sneakier ones. Like, no one has ever touched Dean as often as Cas has in the last weeks. There's always a hand on his back or his shoulder, or fingers threaded through his own under the dinner table. Cas kisses him passionately, shoving up against walls or down onto the bed, but he also presses chaste kisses to Dean's knuckles, cheek, or forehead when the occasion calls for it. It always makes the crew roll their eyes and catcall them while Dean blushes, but it's… Nice. Really nice. Dean thinks, once he actually does think about it, that he might even be a little touch-starved, but somehow, he doesn't feel pathetic when he goes to Cas and curls up in his arms. Probably because Cas has made it clear that he wants it just as bad.

There's also the lack of angst. The only real thing that was causing Dean any sort of trouble since they got here was Cas and his relationship with him. Now that it's resolved, now that it's everything he's ever wanted, Dean is happier than he's been in a long time.

Maybe ever.

Castiel's life is almost picture perfect these days. The crew is the best he's had in years, not to mention they're close (thick as thieves, one could say). Charlie's sticking around, too, which is nice. Jobs are going extraordinarily well with everyone, even Garth went to an outdoor concert a few days ago and was only caught three times, a personal best for the boy.

And then… Dean.

Dean is generous and beautiful and absolutely magnificent. In the bedroom, he's all wide-eyed pleasure, insistent pleading, bite-swollen lips, and heaving chest. He's the most fun Cas has had with someone in bed ever, including Cain, although Cas will keep that tidbit to himself. Cas can't get enough of losing himself in the young man until they're both covered in sweat and delirious with pleasure.

Outside of bed, Dean is shy affection, warm green eyes, secret smiles, and voracious cuddling on the couch. Cas can't stop touching him, even weeks later, to reaffirm that Dean is here, Dean is happy, and Dean is his.

It's everything Castiel has ever wanted. All he has to do now is defend it.

The only thing that threatens his peace is Abaddon and Azazel. They've been doing sloppy smash and grab jobs, leaving huge messes but no actual damning evidence. For someone as meticulous as Cas, it's maddening to see his profession so thoroughly bastardized. If he wasn't determined to catch and deal with them before, he certainly is now.

He's reading through Azazel's profile in his office when there's a knock at the door. The whole file has given him chills and a general uneasy feeling. He's a thief, to be sure, but Castiel also suspects that he's an arsonist. In his picture, his eyes seem almost yellow in the grainy image, but more disturbing is that one can see how unhinged the man is, even in a low-quality shot such as the one in Cas' hand.

"Come in," he says, still scanning through information.

"Hey, you."

Dean's shy greeting has Cas looking up, a smile automatically on his lips for his boy. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas, you know that it's like, eight o'clock, right? It's definitely time to shut up shop for the day."

Cas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, resting his elbows on the desk "I know, I know, it's just that-"

"Abaddon's crew hit again last night," Dean finishes for him, nodding. "That cashier got hurt, and it wasn't more than twenty blocks from here. I know."

"I feel like it's my responsibility to catch them and put a stop to it. Before any other innocents are harmed, of course, but more urgently, before any of you are harmed."

Dean makes his way across the office and rounds the desk until he's standing next to Cas. He runs gentle fingers through Cas' hair, and he has to stop himself from purring like a cat at the touch.

"Cas, you're not going to catch her tonight," Dean's words are as soft as the fingers in Cas' hair, "and you're not going to catch her at all if you're too tired. Come to bed."

"Just another hour," Cas insists, even as he tilts his head into Dean's hand. "I almost have an understanding on this Azazel character, I just need a bit longer."

Dean takes the back of Cas' office chair and pushes until Cas turns to face him. He opens his mouth to object, but it's left hanging open and stunned when Dean drops to his knees on the carpet between Cas' spread legs. His cock twitches when Dean bites his lip and ducks his head demurely.

"At least let me help you relax a little," the boy says, like he's an innocent, like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to the fire in Cas' blood.

"Dean, I-"

His words are stolen again by the way Dean places warm hands on Cas' knees and runs them slowly up his thighs until they're almost where he wants them.

"Please, Cas," Dean murmurs. "You've been working so hard. I wanna be good for you."

"You are, little one, so good for me, so good."

Dean smiles and leans down, shamelessly nuzzling Cas' growing erection through his slacks. Cas growls a little, rolling his hips up to press against the boy's face. Dean stays still, lets him do it, which draws another hearty groan out of Cas.

"Jesus, Dean."

"Please," Dean asks again, his eyes pleading where he looks up at Cas through his lashes. "Let me do this for you."

Cas barely hesitates for a second before he gives a sharp nod. Dean smiles, then goes back down to nuzzle and mouth at his cock again, leaving wet spots on his slacks.

"Take me out," Cas says, almost surprised at how deep his own voice is. "You know what to do, little one, I won't tolerate teasing."

Dean's deftly undoing his button and unzipping his slacks. "Yes, sir," he says, almost a whimper as he pulls the waistband of Cas' briefs down and tucks them behind his balls, freeing his cock. Cas hisses a little as the cool air touches his flesh, and Dean leans forward to place feather-light kisses along the underside of his cock in apology.

Cas realizes he has the arms of his office chair in a death grip and forces himself to relax the fingers of one hand enough so that he can reach out and cup Dean's face. Unselfconscious and adoring, Dean tilts his head into Cas' hand, green eyes warm where they're looking at him steadily.

Oh, my.

Cas shoves down the more tender, tangled feelings that are fighting for dominance in his chest and cards his fingers through Dean's hair. "Ready, darling?"

"Always ready for you, sir," Dean husks. Without preamble, he then leans forward, opens his lovely mouth, and takes Cas in almost down to the hilt.

"Oh, fuck," Cas moans, bending over where Dean is sucking him down, his head bobbing rhythmically. The wet heat of his mouth is incredible, it takes all of Cas' willpower not to thrust into Dean's mouth. Especially when he feels himself hit the back of Dean's throat and the boy just swallows him down. He can feel the muscles of Dean's throat constrict and compress him with the movement, making him whine and shudder at the sensation.

"Fuck, Dean."

The pace Dean sets is relatively languid, but he's certainly not being lazy. He keeps up a hard suction. Every time he's got Cas all the way in his mouth, he swallows and works the big vein on the underside of his cock with his tongue. When he's backed off enough that just the tip in his mouth, he teases the slit with his tongue while gently massaging Cas' balls in his hand.

In no time at all, Cas is helpless against the heat building in his belly. He fights the urge to buck, to hold Dean down and just take him, because this is not a scene, they did not agree to that, and no matter how amazing it would be, he won't hurt Dean (unless Dean asks very nicely for it).

"Dean," his voice is so ragged, "Dean, I'm going to-"

Dean hums his assent around Cas' cock, closing his eyes as he does so. The vibrations sending shockwaves from his cock and up his spine are the last straw for Cas. His eyes roll back as hot pleasure crashes through him, and his hips stutter as he empties himself into Dean's mouth, moaning and twitching.

Dean swallows every drop and cleans Cas with his tongue, his lovely green eyes fiery and dilated as he looks up. Cas has rarely seen anything so beautiful as Dean appears to him right now, and as he catches his breath, he finally admits, at least in his head, that no more work will be done tonight.

Dean tucks him back into his pants lovingly, then stands in front of him. "Okay, well, I'm-"

Cas surges to his feet and clamps a hand on the back of Dean's neck, making the boy squeak. He drags Dean close until he's pressed to Cas, where his hands fist in Cas' shirt and he gives a shuddery little moan.

Cas presses his lips to Dean's ear. "Did I say I was done with you, little one?"

Dean presses his erection to Cas' hip in gyrating little circles, seemingly helpless to stop. "No, sir."

Cas kisses Dean's cheek, his lips catching on the stubble there. "Would you like some help with that?"

"Please, sir."

Cas smiles. "Well, then you'd better hope no one is awake to see you walk to the bedroom like that, little one."

When Dean turns to look at him, the happy mischief in his eyes makes Cas' soul feel lighter than air.

The next morning, Dean wakes up in Cas' bed, as usual. The man is facing away from him, and Dean cuddles up to his back, throwing an arm around his waist, unsure of what woke him up but unwilling to lose the warmth.

Another buzzing sound interrupts his descent back into sleep, and he realizes that it's his phone ringing.

"Dean?" Cas' voice is deep, rougher than it is during the day. "What is that infernal noise?"

"Phone."

"... Ignore it," Cas orders, turning around so he can gather Dean to his broad chest, where he goes happily.

"Was gonna."

The horrible noise stops just long enough for Dean to relax before starting back up again. With a curse, he disentangles himself from a grumpy Cas and reaches over to grab the horrible little device. As soon as this call is over, he's gonna toss it into the toilet, crawl back into bed with Cas, and stay there forever.

"'Lo?"

"Dean?"

At the sound of the trepidation in Bobby's voice, Dean feels his stomach drop. It's like the universe knows that Dean has had a few weeks of uncomplicated bliss, and he's not allowed that much happiness. Hasn't his life thus far taught him anything?

"Dean?" Cas asks, responding to the tenseness in Dean's limbs.

"What is it, Bobby?"

"... Look, there ain't no easy way to say this. Your daddy died last night, Dean."

- I'm sorry about the sort-of cliffhanger. I'm the worst. :( Poor Dean.
- Feedback gets my motor running!