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O Holy Birthday

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Dean awoke on the 24th with something hard pressing against his leg and his angel’s voice grating into his ear, “Morning.” His sleep-addled mind flitted lazily to Cas, Cas and his smooth muscles, his nimble hands, goofy smile – waking up beside the guy was always nice, but Dean had a feeling that Cas had planned something especially awesome for his birthday.

As though he’d been reading his mind (who was Dean kidding – the freak could probably do that easily) Dean felt Cas’ lips press into his shoulder, warm and soft and fucking venerating, like Dean was the most precious thing in the world. Grinning to himself, the hunter mumbled back, “Morning.”

The hardness nudged against his thigh, incessant and stubborn as Cas himself. Dean’s smile widened somehow, but he refused to open his eyes. He wanted this to last as long as possible, even if it meant pissing Cas off just a little. He let his mind wander over the many possibilities that birthday sex with an angel could mean, each idea more exorbitant than the last. He hummed to himself, already excited to get started, when the hard thing nudged his leg again. This time, Dean opened his eyes.

As usual, Castiel was looming over him. But that was the only thing about the scene that was expected.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Holy shit.”

Because ‘holy’ was really the only word to describe what Cas looked like. It was ridiculous and sappy and just a little bit stupid, but Dean noticed this stuff sometimes: The sunlight behind the guy was literally shining off the back of his head like a freakin’ halo (Dean couldn’t make this up if he tried), lighting up his face and highlighting the most intense case of bed-head he had ever seen. But none of that compared to how the smile on those perfect lips lit up angel’s face. Dean didn’t even think it was possible for anyone to grin that widely, let alone his grumpy, stoic, notoriously-not-a-morning-person Castiel. Yet there he was, beaming like the very stars he was born before.

Once he had gotten over the initial shock of waking up to the greatest image on the planet, Dean had the sense to close his mouth, which had dropped open in awe. Cas laughed at him, but he didn’t mind. He was more concerned with the fact that his angel was wearing a t-shirt. Clothing was definitely not cool with Dean at the moment.

“Dude, shirt off. Now.”

Cas huffed in amusement. “I think we should eat breakfast first.”


Still smiling like a kid in a candy store, Cas nodded down to the space between their torsos. Dean’s jaw dropped again. Where he had thought the angel’s erection had been pressing against him there was instead a small tray of food. He let out a peal of laughter, falling back into his pillows with a small fump. Cas, however, looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a frown furrowing his brow. “I realize you were probably expecting some kind of sexual compensation, but—“

But Dean simply sat up and kissed him hard enough to push him back into his own pillow. The poor guy let out a strangled whimper, obviously not expecting such a reaction, but was anything but hesitant in the way he returned the affection. When Dean pulled away a few minutes later, Castiel just picked up where he had left off.

“—but you are always so tentative about asking for what you truly want, I felt that breakfast in bed might be more pertinent.”

“Cas,” groaned Dean. “First of all, don’t ever feel like I have sex because I think I need to in order to make you happy. Second, breakfast in bed is always pertinent or whatever the hell you said. Third, you are fucking amazing and I love you.”

The smile returned to the angel’s face at that. “All right.”

Dean looked back down at the plates. “Dude, did you make me bacon quiche?!”

“Yes,” said Castiel rather sheepishly. “It’s pie for breakfast.”

“Oh my god.” Dean groaned in pleasure. “I repeat, you are fucking amazing.”


Castiel, it seemed, knew exactly what Dean wanted, even if he wouldn’t ask for it. They spent the rest of the day tangled up with each other in bed, being smothered by blankets and kisses in equal measure. There was significantly less sex than Dean had imagined (and probably less than Sam was currently imagining), but it was perfect. He was lying in the arms of the man he loved, safe and warm and happy, and there was nothing in the universe better than that.

“So,” Cas murmured against his ear as the sun started to dip below the horizon. “Was this a good day?”

Dean buried his face deeper into the angel’s neck and let out a contented sigh. “Yeah, man. The best.” He could feel Castiel’s arms tighten around him, cradling his body like it was made of glass and ten million times more valuable. The thought made Dean grin even more.

“Happy birthday, Dean.”