i am complete deancas trash
90% destiel, 10% cockles/general spn/other madnessif you need me to tag anything else at all, just shoot me a message.
*psst* if you send me prompts or requests for edits/fics, i will love you and your children forever.
Contrary to popular belief (read: what Dean thinks), Castiel is actually a morning person.
You can’t tell it by the fact he remains curled up under the comforter as long as he can, communicating in grunts and moans until Dean drags the sheets off of him completely and forces him to get up.
You can’t tell it by the fact he comes out of the bedroom with his hair still a ruffled mess and glaring at the smile Dean gives him as he hands Castiel his first of at least three cups of coffee.
But he really is a morning person.
He’s awake by the time the first rays of sunlight stream into his and Dean’s shared bedroom. He watches as they travel across the floor and to the bed, hitting against the freckles on Dean’s nose, casting shadows where his lashes reach over his cheeks and highlighting the blond of his hair.
He’s awake to watch the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, rhythmic and calming, and listen to his light snores that he insists he doesn’t make. He traces every scar and blemish with his eyes and smiles gently at how they all come together to make Dean the man he is - the man Castiel loves more than anything.
He’s awake to feel the brush of lips against his shoulder, the soft smile on Dean’s lips as he presses light kisses to the nape of his neck, humming softly and hugging Castiel closer to him. He hears Dean whisper, “Morning, angel,” in his ear, tender and loving like Castiel is the most precious thing Dean has ever known.
He’s awake, but he remains still, eyes closed and feigning sleep because he’s not ready for Dean’s arms to pull away to get ready for the day, for Dean to get up and take his warmth with him and leave him alone in their bed.
He pretends to not feel the smattering of kisses to his jaw and cheeks and shoulders, or the feather-light touch of fingers running up his arm and across his hip; pretends not to hear Dean coaxing him into wakefulness with Zeppelin lyrics and promises of coffee and bacon.
Eventually, Dean gets up, leaving a final kiss to Castiel’s lips as he slips out of bed to put on the coffee and start making breakfast, and Castiel sighs, rolling over to Dean’s side of the bed and curling up with his pillow. He’s got at least another hour before Dean comes back in to finally pull him out of bed and run a hand through Castiel’s hair, kissing him again and telling him he’s got morning breath and teasing him about so not being a morning person.
Castiel just smiles as Dean goes back to the kitchen whistling “Hey, Jude”, remaining in bed for another moment and looking out the window to the sun rising in the sky.
He’s certainly a morning person, but Dean doesn’t need to know that yet.
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