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Dean flopped back on the mattress with a whimper of joy, starfishing out to take up as much space as possible. “Ohhhhh,” he moaned, “oh, man, I told you the king size was worth it. Look at this. Not a single part of my body is not on this mattress right now. I am floating. I’m floating on a sea of memory foam.”

Cas gave him about five seconds of unfettered starfish bliss before pushing him over to make room. “It is very nice,” he allowed. “I still think it makes the room feel small, but it’s nice.” Then he immediately ruined his pretense of being The Mature One when he turned his head to look at Dean and smiled the same way he had the first time he’d tasted chocolate mousse as a human: like he couldn’t believe this level of delight existed in the world and was currently happening to his actual body, and Dean was the hero of all mankind for making it happen.

His eyes were a little brighter than the time with the mousse. Dean rolled closer to him. “You love it,” he said. “You love our bed.”

"I love our bed," Cas repeated, and reached out to pull Dean close. "I love our house. Dean—”

The shiver of wonder in his voice made something knot up tight and hot and sweet in Dean’s chest. “I know,” he said. “I know, say it again.”

"Our bed. Our house. Our ludicrously oversize mattress. Our—" But then Dean was kissing him, and Cas’s arms were wrapping around him and their legs were twining together and maybe, maybe the king size had been slightly unnecessary.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe Cas had understood that all along.

By the time Cas pulled away, panting, and started to press kisses down Dean’s throat instead, he’d clearly forgotten whatever he’d been about to say, but Dean thought he knew anyway, thought maybe Cas was saying it right now. They both were; they were going to say it again and again for the rest of—

"Our life," he murmured, tangling his fingers in Cas’s hair and feeling a thrill of heat at the answering pleased hum. "Our life. Cas. We’re gonna live together."

"I’m glad you noticed," Cas said, attempting to hide his grin against Dean’s chest and failing utterly because Dean could feel it. “That would have been an awkward conversation to have tomorrow morning, otherwise.”

"I’ll show you awkward" wasn’t, actually, the least sexy thing Dean had ever said during sex, but the ensuing pause for helpless giggling was definitely the best time he’d ever had being laughed at in bed.