Waking up in Heaven sometimes still came as a novelty to Dean.

There were no nightmares, he never roused with a startled gasp of terror or already tear-streaked cheeks, cold sweat covering his tremor-wrecked body. No images of Hell haunted him and there was no trace of the choking helplessness as he watched Sam and Jack and Cas and everyone else he'd ever loved dying over and over again. He didn't have to relive the horror of being too late on a hunt, innocents dying because he was not fast enough.

The hardest had been getting used to the way nothing hurt. No crick in his neck, no sore muscles or busted knuckles or throbbing head. He felt like he was in his twenties again, before he'd twisted his knee on a salt-n-burn and it had never worked the same again.

The pillow under his head felt fluffy and soft, the memory foam cushioning him the way it used to at the Bunker. Faint sunlight shone through his eyelids and the air was warm even where he wasn't covered by silky sheets.

He let his eyes remain closed, just allowed his hand to move around until it found something warm and solid. It felt like an arm and he grumbled a bit until he reached the big, rough palm attached to it and long fingers curled around his. He heard a faint, amused snort from the same direction.

"Good morning," Cas whispered with a smile in his voice.

It was always a good morning with Cas there. So most mornings were good, some of them even awesome. Dean wanted this one to be the latter.

"C'mere," he turned onto his back lazily and pulled Cas with him, the angel following until his forearms perched on Dean's chest, their bare legs tangled under the covers. Dean's palm glided up and down on the expanse of his boyfriend's back before settling softly between his shoulder blades.

When he finally decided to blink his eyes open the first thing he saw was Cas looking down at him with gentle blue eyes and the slight curve of a smile that resulted in a pretty besotted expression. It had taken Dean ages to not hide from it or even worse, try to make it disappear with a joke or a sarcastic comment.

Now he just smiled back with a probably just as infatuated face, because he couldn't help it. He was in love and he was proud of it.

"Love you," he murmured into the air between them, his unoccupied hand cradling Cas' jaw, thumb brushing over the shadow of his stubble. The way Cas' eyes lit up every time he heard those words was the most gorgeous thing in the universe.

"I love you, too, Dean," Cas said it back because he always did before he leaned down to press his lips to Dean's.

Dean pushed back immediately, eyes closing again as he was swept up in the sensations, a moan escaping him as the slightest movement of his thigh let Cas rub against him.

Sex was something they'd worked on – a lot. Dean had been pretty sure that getting into each other's pants immediately would end catastrophically and he still stood by that. His lack of knowledge in being with a man was just the lesser problem – not interest, that had been there, his carefully deleted browser history would've been enough evidence of that. No, the problem was that it was Cas. And Cas was important and this was the afterlife and Dean had never known and loved anyone for over a decade before bedding them so he really hadn't wanted to mess it up. Or what if they didn't work in bed? That would've been a tragedy after all that pining.

Dean had told Cas all this with a lot less cohesively and with way more stuttering and blushing in the middle of a make-out session, already hard and wanting but not daring to take it further. Cas had been more than okay with waiting, his smile so radiant at the news Dean had been a bit affronted. Up until Cas had said he was happy because it meant he was special. Damn, Dean had almost cried then.

So they had taken it slow. They had perfected kissing pretty quickly and with much enthusiasm, hands wandering over clothes, fingers carding through hair. Dean hadn't spent hours on a sofa just making out since high school and he'd never done it in the middle of a friggin' meadow between wildflowers, stretched out on a picnic blanket. It was easy to just lose himself in Cas.

Taking off layers of clothes had come gradually, fingers slipping under a shirt or teasing at the waistband of pants. Cas in that new, black trench coat of his looked admittedly hot, way more fitting than the previous ones but it still hid those solid muscles and broad shoulders Dean had drooled over in secret on Earth and mostly openly since he had died.

They had slept (well, Dean slept) in the same bed, in the house they shared, a strange mix of the Bunker's structure and a two-story farmhouse, snuggling close and sharing simple touches and lingering kisses until Dean had fallen asleep just looking into Cas' eyes. Then one time he just hadn't wanted to stop, had pressed tight against Cas and kissed him stupid, a hand shyly sneaking into the angel's pajama pants and had started stroking him with unsure movements that had become more firm after getting used to the feeling. The way Cas panted and whined into his mouth, too distracted to even kiss back, hips thrusting into Dean's palm and fingers grabbing onto any bare skin he'd found had left Dean himself breathless and turned on beyond belief because Cas was beautiful and powerful and trusting and his.

Cas had later returned the favor with eagerness and intense focus, observing every one of Dean's reactions and damn, the blue balls had been worse every damn second for the experience of coming apart under Cas' touch.

As they had worked through their emotional hang-ups and let the other in, closer than anyone ever before, they had built up an intense and intimate sexual relationship, getting close and discovering new and exciting (and decidedly filthy) things together.

Dean had never used the words 'making love' before but he really couldn't call what they were doing anything else. Even when it was rough and hard, screwing each other's brains out against the nearest wall, it was about pulling the other closer, reveling in his heated gaze and never wanting to let go.

Now, this morning, with the sun shining through the window and basking in its light, it was not hurried. Dean savored the taste of Cas' mouth, losing himself in its scorching heat. Cas pressed him into the mattress and grinded his hardening length to Dean's slowly and deliberately. The amazing friction made Dean grasp at Cas' hair that earned him a low, aroused groan and a reprimanding nip on his lower lip.

Dean broke the kiss to lick his palm because not like they needed lube in Heaven. Cas used this to let his lips wander down to Dean's neck and start sucking and biting on his pulse point, leaving a nasty bruise and Dean relished in it, momentarily forgetting what he was about to do.

He was surely reminded when Cas' erection was sliding hot and hard against his with the next roll of their hips. He reached down to curl his fist around both of them and the wounded noise leaving Cas' throat was porn-worthy and Dean's mind went blank from the feeling. His hand moved mostly on auto-pilot by now, pre-come easing the way.

The room was only filled with the sounds of their heaving breaths and the quiet rocking of the bed. Dean couldn't even curse properly, his groans swallowed by Cas' bitten-off grunts.

Cas came first, his body shuddering over Dean's, his face hidden in the hunter's collarbone. Dean followed soon after, hips stuttering and eyes rolling into the back of his head as he let go.

"You're awesome," he breathed out when he had enough brain cells working again. His hand was clean with a thought and he combed his fingers through Cas' hair in a soothing motion. His angel hummed against his skin from where he was draped over him and smoothed his knuckles down Dean's pectorals and back up his side.

Later, they would get up and walk downstairs in just their robes and boxers. Dean would prepare himself a mug of coffee more out of routine than necessity. They could go for a drive or take a walk or spend the day in the little garden they had been tending to in their backyard. (Cas didn't have any heavenly duties planned and Naomi wouldn't disturb them after last time if it wasn't an emergency – her awkwardness at standing next to the couch and relaying not-so-important news while Dean was lying there, his head in Cas' lap and not letting Heaven's appointed boss move had been hilarious. Maybe she wasn't as ruthless as she had been when Dean had first met her, but she had still brainwashed Cas time and time again and that was something he wasn't ready to forget. Cas had put their past differences aside for the greater good – Dean wasn't that forgiving. Making her squirm was petty revenge but it made him feel smug.)

They could do anything they wanted. Later. For now, Dean was just happy to lay there with Cas, forever stretching ahead of them.