5 years later

Dean blinked groggily, awakening slowly on the chilly winter morning. He felt soft and pliant, content to stay melted into the mattress at his husband's side, who was still dead to the world like most mornings and even some early afternoons, depending on how creative they got with sex the night before. Dean turned his head to let his eyes graze over the shock of dark hair against the white sheets Castiel had insisted on getting for their bedroom, and his gorgeous face, relaxed in sleep. He trailed his gaze further down, to where the naked muscled skin of his abdomen disappeared underneath the blankets. A soft, fond smile stretched over his lips. He really loved waking up to Cas – no matter how many years he'd done so, he still wasn't the least bit tired of it.

The aroma of coffee called to him though, and he reluctantly slipped out from the bed, careful not to awaken him because Cas could be a bitch in the mornings when he didn't wake up good and proper on his own, before heading out to the bunker's kitchen. Sam was behind the counter, pouring coffee into his mug. When Dean entered he looked up, smiling. "

Morning," Sam called quietly, already reaching over to get another cup from the cabinet. Dean nodded in gratitude as he handed him the one he'd filled a second ago, before bringing it to his lips and sipping. Damn but there was nothing like some hot coffee on a November morning.

"Mornin' Sammy," he drawled, "Anyone else up?" he asked, because usually the bunker's other residents would be drinking up the rest of the coffee by now.

"I don't think so; Kevin had a late night with Charlie playing Skyrim or something, and she crashed here at about one in the morning so, they're both still asleep," He said, rolling his eyes warmly. "Anyhow, I'm gonna go for a shower and then maybe head out and get some groceries, we're running low on caffeine again." He smirked, walking out the entry way to the kitchen.

Dean leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee and wondering how the hell they'd gotten to this point. A lot had happened in the past five years, and Dean couldn't believe after everything, they'd somehow ended up alive and hell, happy.

He remembered a lot of what had happened for them to get here. He remembered when Sam came back from Hell wrong, and the betrayal he'd felt Castiel had told him what he'd done behind his back while they were living together in the year he'd thought Sam was gone. He remembered having a hard time getting over that – because next thing he knew Castiel was gone, dead, and then he wasn't – but it wasn't Castiel who walked out of the river, it was Emmanuel.

Cas once told him, that even when he'd forgotten everything, when he was Emmanuel, he fell in love with Dean the moment he saw him again. It never failed to make Dean's heart stutter in his chest.

He remembered when Castiel sacrificed his sanity to save Sam, how Dean had yelled at him that nobody cared if he was broken – how he instantly regretted the words, making up for them with his promise that he'd rather have Castiel; cursed or not. He remembered how he'd told Castiel he loved him, when he couldn't find his voice to actually tell him outright. Like in Purgatory, when he'd searched relentlessly, fighting bone and teeth's edge to find his angel, and told him he needed Castiel.

He remembered how empty his world was when he returned to Earth to find that Castiel had not made it with him. How guilty he was that he'd left him there, in that awful place to die. He remembered when Castiel came back, and told him that it wasn't his fault, that he'd chosen to stay there rather than leave with Dean. He remembered not being able to understand that until years later. He recalled pain, and longing in the crypt, when Castiel was under Naomi's control, and he remembered telling Cas again that he needed him – not his powers, or his body, or anything – he needed Castiel. He remembered the look on his face as he dropped the blade, falling to his knees before kissing Dean senseless. He remembered that afterwards, he'd disappeared, and Dean once again didn't comprehend why he'd left.

He remembered he was angry with him, and it was almost too late when he realised being angry wasn't going to help anyone and tried to make up with the Angel before he closed the gates of Heaven for eternity, leaving Dean alone.

He remembered the sheer panic he'd gone through when Sam collapsed, when the Angels fell, when he couldn't reach Castiel – not through phone or prayer or nothing. He remembered the relief when he finally heard from him, only to hear that he was going off with someone else instead of keeping safe and trying to get back to Dean. He remembered when Castiel told him that Metatron took his Grace – that he was human. He remembered not knowing how to feel about that, because there were too many emotions swirling inside him already.

He remembered when Castiel came back home and collapsed into Dean's arms, small and fragile and so incredibly human that it shattered Dean's heart. He remembered the fight he had when Castiel revealed he had slept with April. He remembered when Castiel left the bunker in despair, and when he'd tried to go after him, Ezekiel – or Gadreel, he supposed – had told him Castiel couldn't stay anyway.

He remembered the ache when Dean realised that once again, he'd failed to ask Castiel to stay when it really mattered.

He remembered visiting Castiel, and seeing how okay he was without Dean, and he remembered how that made him feel – like he was redundant. The matter hadn't improved when Cas told him he had a date on top of that. He remembered the jealousy, burning within him, because not a week ago Castiel was ready to come back to Dean again, and now he was gone.

He remembered when Kevin had almost died at the hands of Gadreel, and how he'd called to Castiel and within a day he had come back with another Angel's Grace swirling inside him. He remembered meeting Cain. And earning the Mark, and The First Blade, and everything in between. He remembered the power that surged through him – how unattached he became from reality. He remembered killing Abaddon, and not being able to stop and going after Metatron too. He remembered meeting Castiel in the middle as the Angel led his own army after Metatron, and he remembered the emptiness, the coldness that drove him to attack the Angel. He remembered the familiarity of the situation – but this time Castiel was the one on his knees, begging for his life.

He remembered when Castiel whispered to him the words Dean hadn't said, and how those three words were followed by the clatter of the First Blade as the spell broke and Dean was free. He remembered when, finally, they defeated Metatron, and Castiel freed the stolen Grace from his body, he didn't open the vial. Instead, he hung it around his neck and kissed Dean. He remembered taking Castiel home, and making love to him for the first time in a long time. He remembered how Castiel told him how different it felt, now that he was human, and how much he loved Dean, and that he wasn't going to leave him this time.

Most of all, he remembered, this time, asking Cas to stay forever and marry him. He remembered that every time the gold band on his finger glinted in the sunlight, or brushed against his husband's skin.

Arms encircled his waist, jostling him from his memories and into the much nicer, better present, mainly because the present was currently pressing lazy, morning kisses into his shoulder and neck.

"Hello Dean," Castiel murmured, and isn't that something? Almost seven years, and he still greeted Dean the same way, and it still evoked the same reaction.

He shivered, turning in his arms to press a kiss to his husband's lips, smiling even before they broke away. Castiel's hair was mussed from sex and sleep, making him look devilishly irresistible, especially when he was walking around in nothing but sweatpants – they slung low on him, which Dean realised was because they were actually his, and Dean knew that he wasn't wearing any underwear too. Cas had come out to the kitchen for one reason only; to get Dean back into bed.

A plan Dean didn't doubt was true once Castiel began sucking hickeys into his clavicle, biting at the bone which had already been marked from the previous night. Dean chuckled. "Alright, alright, I hear ya," He drawled, allowing Castiel to take his hand and lead him back to their bedroom.

After all, what was the point of peace on Earth if you couldn't enjoy it every now and again?

...Not sure if this was the ending you guys wanted or not, but I do hope you like it nonetheless. I cut it a bit short than what I was originally going to do, as I have a lot of other ideas and working through the complete seasons 6-8 and then 9 and 10 was going to take me too long unfortunately.

If you guys want me to post some one-shots of their time together (like during seasons 6-9, or even afterward living in the Bunker) let me know and I'll be happy to add some bonus chapters for you :)