Dean Winchester had woken up next to quite a few people, and Castiel was, by far, his favorite. If one night stands managed to stay the night, the morning was awkward at best. His previous relationships – Cassie and Lisa – had been career women and they were often gone by the time Dean woke up. Not to mention the feeling he'd gotten after the first couple months with them. The dreaded promise of future – one with marriage, white-picket fences, and two point five kids – loomed over their time and he'd shied away from that.

Cas was different. One, Cas taught night classes at the university, meaning he was still in the bed when Dean rose. Two, Dean woke up with Cas half on top of him. And he didn't mind the odd fuzzy feeling in his side. On those mornings, he would slip an arm around him and hold him close. He'd wake him up slowly. Sometimes he'd kiss his face, ghost his hands over his body, causing goose bumps to rise on the pale skin. And, no, Dean would not admit to liking the cuddling. Nope, wasn't gonna happen.

Other times, he'd take a more vigorous approach, letting his hands drift to more sensitive skin, kissing him deeply.

And, if they had nowhere to be, waking Cas up would lead to morning sex, the slow, lazy kind that was a personal favorite of his.

So, that day, when Dean woke to find Castiel wrapped around his side, face buried in his neck and an arm hugging his chest, he went with the first method.

Or, well, he tried to. It didn't take him long to figure out that Cas wasn't going to loosen up enough to let Dean move his right side anytime soon. However, he did manage to extract his free arm from the deluge of covers and run his fingers through Cas's hair. He liked this method too.

Castiel's hair had always been on the "uncontrollable" side. No matter the coercion, it refused to go in the direction Cas wanted, preferring to stick up at odd angles, giving him perpetual sex hair. Waking up with bedhead and real-after-sex hair only served to magnify the effect. Dean's fingers weren't helping.

"Cas," he whispered, voice sluggish.

Castiel didn't so much respond as grip Dean tighter and bury his face further.

"Cas," he tried again, a little louder this time.

Cas mumbled something against Dean's throat, making the little hairs on Dean's arms stand up. Dean wiggled a little bit, saying "Cas" again, a little more forcefully.

It elicited a groan out of the other man, followed by him backing off a little so he could focus his gaze on Dean.

"Yes, Dean?"

If Dean said that voice, hoarser in the morning, didn't make him quiver all over, he would be a liar.

"Why don't you move in with me?"

Cas blinked owlishly, a small grin quirking the edge of his mouth.

"And why would I do that?" he asked, seemingly perplexed.

Dean managed to put his right arm around him. "Because I like this."

The grin spread a little further. Saying "Okay," Cas hid his face in Dean's neck again and inhaled deeply. He rumbled something.

Dean could've sworn it was "I like this too."