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Sam’s a touchy-feely kind of guy. Or, at least, he is with people he loves, romantic partners. Which pretty much means he hasn’t been able to be touchy-feely in a long, long time.
He expects his relationship with Cas to not change much. After all, Cas is an angel of the Lord, kind of distant, definitely not bound by such human desires to touch and be touched. He doesn’t get, doesn’t need, such human things. Sam can live with that.
And then he learns how wrong he is, and life becomes infinitely better.
Cas is, in fact, very touchy-feely. He loves cuddling and snuggling up to Sam, and Sam isn’t going to deny his boyfriend a moment of that. They spend hours cuddling, in bed and on the couch, and they hold hands or otherwise generally touch each other every chance they can. It’s…well, in any other situation, Sam might say that it’s heaven.
Sam wakes, taking in his surroundings. It feels later than he usually sleeps. He’s warm, but not overwhelmingly so. He feels incredibly well rested. And there’s an angel nuzzling into his neck.
“Good morning,” Sam murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
Cas presses a kiss to Sam’s neck, before running his nose from the space under Sam’s jaw to his collarbone. “Good morning,” he whispers. “How’d you sleep?”
Sam closes his eyes again, feeling Cas’ skin against his, reveling in the easy, warm spark traveling between them. “Always sleep well when you’re here.”
“You looked like you slept well,” Cas says. “Beautiful, relaxed, letting me hold you.”
Sam shivers a bit from the breath against his neck. “You know,” he says, “me letting you hold me isn’t limited to me being asleep.”
Cas kisses his neck again before rubbing his cheek against the skin, making Sam shiver once more. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” he asks.
Sam has to concede the point. “Did you stay there all night?” He asks.
“Mhm,” Cas confirms. “I enjoy holding you while you sleep, ensuring you sleep well, watching you, you know that, right?”
Sam does, to some extent; Cas has said it before. They certainly wake up this way often enough to give the idea a great deal of validity.
Sam stretches. Cas is incredibly skilled, and manages to keep his face pressed into Sam’s neck, his arms around Sam’s waist, even with Sam moving and stretching beneath him.
“I should get up,” he says. “It’s late.”
“Not that late,” Cas argues.
Sam turns to look at his watch. “It’s nearly eight,” he says.
“Yes,” Cas agrees. “And, as there’s nothing pressing, we can stay here, like this, for a while longer.”
Sam can’t argue with that. He just nods, and closes his eyes as he feels Cas nuzzle deeper into his neck.
Cas and this relationship, it turns out, is the best choice Sam ever made.