Disclaimer: I don't own a thing A. N. Prompt 9, "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving." ― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist. Which of course meant "Dammit Dean!" even for people who've barely watched Supernatural (aka my awesome beta, Chrwythyn).

Good things do happen

Dean is the happiest that he's ever been. Better than heaven, even if the one stint that he remembers was...at this point he has to assume purposefully ruined by that fucking bastard Zachariah, so the comparison might not be completely accurate. Still, it's the one that jumps to mind, for obvious reasons. Main one being, he's dating an angel. His angel. Cas.

Yes, it makes even less sense to him than to anyone else they might have met in their lives (who, in the overwhelming majority, seem to find the relationship inevitable as sunrise). Because, Dean? Oh, he never does, knows better than that. But he's the first who could list everything wrong he's done (and everything wrong that he has been, or, frankly, is) in detail, in chronological or alphabetical order, your pick.

It was weird enough when Cas saved him, but eventually, that had an explanation. Superior orders, the apocalypse needed to get going, Michael wanted to wear him but couldn't be bothered doing the job, like the asshole he is. But since, Cas has actively helped him (them, ok, but even Dean can't pretend it was ever about Sam, not for Castiel) fuck God's plan - or Michael's plan, or whoever's – over.

And if that wasn't enough, Cas acted on their best behalf even when he was royally messing up and really, if only he had the common sense of a street cat, would have known when the plans were completely fucked up. Finally, after being called out on that, one confrontation led to another, and to Dean not being able to reason himself into believing Cas was there for both Winchester boys. Not that Cas hates Sammy. But his Motivation, big M, has been Dean all along. As nonsensical as it sounds.

So, as it stands, Dean's been...ok, maybe he's voracious, as far as Cas is concerned. But he has a point. Because when things inevitably sour, and they will, he'll at least have as many memories as he can store. Assuming Cas doesn't wipe his mind, but if the angel does, he'll never know what he's lost, so... fine, he guesses. It's still a bit of a shock every morning when Cas hasn't got tired of him yet.

After the token protests, Dean has learned not to argue with the whole being watched over. Not when Cas is in their bed all night long, at least. Ok, yes, rationally speaking, it should be creepy. But it had been years since the last time he got a proper cuddle, and damn, he wasn't masochistic enough to fight against it. Not with the way he's sleeping better than he has in far too long. But still.

Fine, sure, it took Sammy a little over a decade for his first flight, but the kid couldn't exactly run off at three. It's not like Cas' wings have been cut, or anything, so – the only thing that keeps him here is not need, but literally the fact that he still loves Dean enough to prefer being at his side to literally every other corner of the universe. Despite. Well, despite. For now.

Dean has tried to hide it all – fears, pessimism, neediness...Not being able to stop himself from kissing Cas, or more? That's okay. Being fucking desperate for him, period, no horniness involved? That's a no-no. It will only lead to Cas getting tired of him quicker, and with reason.

Still, hiding things from your boyfriend who literally sees your soul at any given moment turns out to be more of an endeavour than Dean can actually pull off. It's one morning like any other, apparently – wake up, kiss Cas (who's never once complained about morning breath), pad around in search of coffee. See what chaos the day will bring.

Then Cas crowds him against the table, and – yeah, that could be very nice indeed, of course Dean's willing... but the angel breathes into his ear, "We need to talk."

Dean's stomach knots, but he nods. If this is it...it lasted longer than he expected anyway. He's good for a quickie, and maybe the months they've had are the version of that when one's life spans literal eons, but. He just wonders what flipped Cas between yesterday and today. Finally got bored? Realized something? Found something? What?

"Breathe, Dean. I'm not..." Cas sighs. "Did I use the wrong words or something? You know I still stumble on niceties."

That steals a laugh from Dean, because niceties is not the word he'd have used, but awkward Cas is more adorable than he has any right to be, so. "Just say whatever." He feels less like he might be sick any second, but jury's still out. Verdict depends on what his (for now) boyfriend has been mulling over, possibly all night long.

"I had hoped that time might help. That I would be able to prove myself to you."

Dean almost cuts in, then, because that's never been the point, not at all, how could Cas even get such a skewed idea, when it was the reverse, if anything... But Cas raises a hand, and all objections die in his mouth.

"I assumed you would grow confident in us. Maybe not anything else, Dean, but – I can still see the awe in your eyes, every morning, and I don't know what to do to show you that I love you, and don't plan on going anywhere, ever. Help me, please."

"Why?" Dean blurts out, before even realizing what he's saying.

"Because I am not sure how to get my point across?" Cas's head tilts, like he does when he's confused.

"No, I, why do you, are you?" God, he's a mess, it's a miracle if the angel can figure out what he means, because Dean isn't sure himself. But the dam that he's tried to keep everything behind is crumbling, and he's standing there, not even had a coffee yet and whining for reassurance. Can't even blame it on a nightmare or something sensible.

"Because I love you." Cas smiles, soft and too kind and – is that a shadow of sadness in his eyes? Cheers. Well done.

Still, he can't help but mutter, "That's not an answer."

"It is. I could wax lyrical about you for longer than you could live, but it wouldn't be reasons. If the reason for something disappears, its consequence disappears too. So no, I refuse to give you a justification, because you'd take it as "I'm going to leave when". I love you because I love you, and that's my choice, Dean, and you don't get to make me stop. No. Matter. What. Got it, now?"

Dean smiles. It might take him a while to actually believe it, but hearing it? Best fucking morning in months. "Stubborn," he teases.

"Birds of a feather," Cas retorts, and Dean doesn't know where he learned it, but he giggles, high with relief.

"Maybe. Come on, I need coffee."