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They stumbled as they fell into Dean's bed, hips colliding and feet tangling. Finally having Cas's presence, his affection far and away made up for the breath Dean lost when the fallen angel landed on top of him.
They struggled to keep their mouths together as they worked together to remove Dean's undershirt. His button-up was long since discarded by the doorway. Dean bit at Cas's lower lip again, liking the way he froze for a moment before shuddering back into action.
Cas pulled Dean's shirt up over his face and Dean wrestled it off immediately. He pulled Cas back in, fitting their mouths together again but there was a light touch ghosting along his ribs that was at odds with the mood they'd built up.
Cas said something then, laughing wryly afterwards. Dean couldn't hear it over the rushing blood in his ears, so he took a moment to catch his breath and clear the hormonal fog from his brain.
"Sorry, what was that?" he asked. Cas laughed again, enough to crinkle his crow's feet and throw his head back.
"I said it was foolish of me."
"Taking my shirt off?" Dean thought it was a perfectly reasonable decision if sex were to follow.
"That I thought your body would look the same," Cas explained, "As it did when I returned your soul to it."
"Oh," Dean said. It was that thing they never talked about. The whole 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.' thing.
The gentle drag of Cas's fingers across Dean's chest felt somewhere between reverent and sorrowful.
"The image of you remade is still vivid in my mind after all these years, but isn't that the point? All these years have built up on your skin and changed you."
"I'm older now," Dean said. It wasn't resentful because every year a Hunter gains is hard won.
"You had no scar tissue because I removed it all. You had more elastin, more collagen providing structure to your skin," Cas thought out loud. Dean remembered moments in time when Cas was different. When they both were different. White hospital scrubs muddied over time, a jawline eventually obscured by scruff.
Cas drummed less seductively and more pensively on Dean's chest, but that wasn't so bad. They could swap one first time for another.
"Do you remember what it was like? Bringing me out of Hell?" Dean had always wanted to know, always been curious. There had never been cause or time to ask before.
Cas was still smiling but it looked sadder.
"I thought I did. But I've gotten better at smelling Naomi's stink. I don't think the memory I have in my head is reflective of the actual event," Cas said as he rolled off of Dean and flopped next to the hunter on the bed.
"So, neither of us remember the most important moment of our lives," Dean blurted out. He'd meant to say 'my life', didn't mean to imply anything about what Cas valued. The thing shared between them was still new. It could still be damaged or deformed.
Cas smiled ever wider. Threw his arms out in surprise and pleasure. Made Dean's heart clamor to rejoice as well.