It was a good thing it was Sunday, because neither of them had any plans for the morning. This was going to require coffee in volumes that would probably result in twitchy nerves for hours. Cas suggested that the discussion might also require bacon; Dean proposed that it didn't require pants. The negotiations were thus off to an auspicious start, both parties finding agreements on all terms.

"Such a lawyer," Dean commented, sipping his coffee as he watched Cas scribble on a piece of paper.

"I did pay good money for people to say so," Cas answered.

Whenever he felt emotionally conflicted, Dean's thoughts tended to swarm nebulously, making it difficult to frame any particular starting point. As he sat back now, studying Cas as he placidly covered the sheet with flowing script, a fondly sentimental appreciation for his almost-mate's talents for focus blossomed in his heart.

That sure was a lot of writing, though.

Rather than a list, Castiel was involved in creating a series of circles and arrows pointing in every direction, like a crazy science class diagram of a molecule. "That's a hell of an art project you've got going there," Dean said, nodding at the page.

"Just mind mapping," Cas said, turning the paper so Dean could see. The large circle in the middle said "MATING BOND" in large, bold letters; stemming out from it were smaller circles, filled with other words: "Work," "Family," "History and 'Baggage'."

Dean pointed at that last one. "Dude. You actually used air quotes on your chart?"

Playfully, Cas batted at the pointing finger with his pen. "I don't believe they count as air quotes if they're written, Dean. Then they're simply quotes."

"Whatever, man. I can even hear you saying them when I read that." Cas raised an eyebrow, and Dean shook his head, grinning. "Okay, keep mapping."

"Anyway, this is just another a way of organizing a situation or proposal, getting every thought out there without any kind of judgment or need to elevate one concern over another. So, anything you've worried about, any concern you've had about our bonding or relationship, go ahead and fire away. Once we've gotten it all into the open, we can run through and settle them, one at a time."

"This is, like, the professional version of pencil and napkin lists, then?"

Cas hummed noncommittally. "I mean, it works more efficiently in a mediation setting, in my experience, but I suspect that success could also be due to how certain types of personalities take things more seriously when there's color-coding involved."

They talked. It was slow-going, at first. Initially, Dean struggled with reluctance to voice out loud some of his worries, afraid that Cas might be offended or hurt; some part of him also felt nervous that despite all assurances to the contrary, maybe the next thing he said would be the thing that finally made Cas jolt up with wide eyes, saying, "Wow, you're right, good thing we didn't just go for it," and head for the door. True, Dean hated the thought of watching the man he loved come to resent him eventually, but he also couldn't help wanting to pretend any scary complications didn't necessarily have to be confronted, either now or later.

But Cas hadn't even flinched all through the process, no matter how deep they went. "Spill now, debate later," he'd insisted, jotting "Children" into its own bubble as Dean chewed at his lip.

By the time they'd exhausted what Dean thought had to be pretty much every issue any couple could possibly ever have to face, Cas's "molecule" looked more like the map of some fantasy world littered with islands. At some point, the nervousness had fallen away and been replaced with a morbid competitive desire to see just how complicated the chart could become.

"Okay, that was kind of satisfying, but now do we have to decide, today, which of our weird families would get hypothetical custody of any hypothetical pups we may or may not decide to have, just on the off-chance that something would happen to both of us?" Dean pushed away from the table, standing up to stretch his legs.

"We might have gotten carried away," Cas acknowledged, smiling ruefully. "No, we don't. Unless that's the item standing out in the forefront of your worries about our future, in which case, yes, we should." He shrugged.

The only thing standing at the front of Dean's mind just then was a need for a break. It was probably a good sign, how Cas didn't need him to say it out loud, pushing his own chair back and reaching his arms to pull Dean close. The meeting was thus temporarily adjourned to the living room sofa, in favor of a good, long, reassuring makeout session. ("I'm in the wrong field," Dean murmured against Cas's chest, "if this is what all your work breaks look like.")

The second part of the discussion lasted much longer than the first, and it was much less fun. To Dean's surprise, though, that wasn't because of arguing, high emotions, or passionate disagreements. Somehow, just the act of putting all those intimidating ideas on paper in the first place had robbed them of a lot of their scary nebulousness. At this point, it was just a matter of being extremely, painstakingly thorough.

"You know, this is sort of the opposite of romantic," he sighed at one point, poking at the crumbs left over from the BLT sandwiches he'd made them for lunch.

"Maybe," Cas said, considering. "It's not movie romantic. But…well, we're planning a whole future. Doing this, we're picturing what our life might look like next year, five years from now, ten years…when we're old, grey-haired men who can't even look at a banana pepper without getting heartburn. Imagining myself caring for you for our whole lives, with no end in sight—I think that's pretty romantic, in its own way."

And that was pretty much the kicker, right there. The bigger reason why all of this was suddenly, magically not so frightening? Dean was right there with Cas, imagining an entire life spinning out in front of them, not shying away from any of the sore spots he'd been hesitant to face. It wasn't concrete; he wasn't so naive as to think there was such a thing as a happily ever after, just because they wanted one and were pausing to envision it. But all the hazy, unfilled-in parts felt more like potential than pitfall. They were discussing, and it was working. God damn, communication was key, after all!

But Cas still insisted on dotting all the i's and crossing every single everloving t, f, and unnecessarily fancy z. His biggest concern seemed to be the fear that he was somehow pressuring Dean, a fear born mostly out of seeing other alphas do so without hesitation. It was a little frustrating.

"Look, we've established that my body has decided it wants you to stick around and bond. But you've gotta trust me when I say that I can tell the differences between my biological impulses and everything else going on in my brain!" Dean argued. "If you respect me, and I know you do, then you can't keep doubting my word on that." Cas flushed, ashamed, and Dean stroked the back of his hand, letting him know he wasn't mad.

There was even a weird-as-hell impromptu call to Dr. Bradbury thrown into the mix. Dean had suggested putting her on speaker, making it a group discussion, but Cas had been adamantly opposed. "She's your counselor, Dean, and I won't risk violating the trust you've built with her." As it turned out, though, the doctor was stunned, falling nearly into stuttering incoherence when Dean explained what the two of them had been up to.

"Dean! That's completely…if every couple went to that point…I'm just…I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say one of my colleagues put you up to this call, just to mess with me." She'd been increasingly Team Cas for weeks, admiring how Dean had talked about him and how he seemed to be flourishing personally within their relationship, and this seemed to be the clincher for her. "The fact that you guys are working through this decision logically, without a marriage counselor or me or anyone at all outside of your relationship telling you to, speaks volumes about you guys. Frankly, I don't even know what to say. If I weren't so in love with how you're handling it now, I'd tell you to absolutely go mate that man, right now, blessings upon you. But…you just keep doing what you're doing! Ah, I want a wedding invitation!"

"Well, now we have to bond," Dean said as he came back into the kitchen, chuckling. "If we don't at this point, she's probably going to have me involuntarily committed."

Cas barked a laugh of his own. "Can't have that," he said. "So…is that everything?"

They scanned the paper, now littered with the doodles and markings they'd added together as they worked. Dean's handwriting, done in blue ink, was less tidy than Cas's, involving stick figures and symbols as often as words. Between that and the sedate blank ink marks left by Castiel, it had evolved into something practically worthy of being framed, so long as one didn't examine it too closely and note the part of the diagram devoted to heats and ruts. (Dean had been particularly amused by his illustrations there.)

"I think we've covered it," he said. Looking up, Dean caught Castiel's eyes and held them. "How are you feeling about it now?"

"Well," Cas said, letting out a deep breath. "I think…as long as your concerns have been addressed, I'm…ready." His eyes sparkled, and his smile stretched wide as he seemed to hold his breath, waiting.

"Ready? You're ready? 'Cause I'm…yeah, I'm ready," Dean said, his own grin uncontainable.

"Then…then we're doing it?" Cas leaned slowly over the table toward him, appearing not to realize he was.

"Hell, yeah," Dean breathed, leaning forward to meet him. A moment later, he stopped himself. "But, uh, not right now?"

"Hmmm?" Cas looked unfocused, confused; he blinked, trying to understand what was happening.

"C'mon, man," Dean said, shaking his head while still grinning. "This was awesome, and so necessary, but work with me. You can't just conclude what was pretty much a business meeting by substituting in a bonding bite for a handshake. I may not be the most conventional kind of guy out there, but even I can't get behind that."

"Oh," Cas said, eyes widening in realization. "Oh, no, Dean, you're completely right. This is far from what I'd want for us, what I'd want for you." He looked chastened, and Dean rolled his eyes a little. Leaning back, Cas tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. "Should we go out tonight and celebrate ahead of time? Maybe go someplace really nice for dinner, then come back to one of our houses after, do the whole candles and music setting? That seems…traditional." He frowned.

Dean smirked. "See, we finally found the flaw in the great plan. Impromptu mating, you don't have to worry about setting the perfect scene. But we turned it into this big whole-day planning event instead, and now that we've talked about it so much, we're both thinking about it, and the pressure's on to make it just right."

"Ugh, of course," Cas said, groaning theatrically. "There had to be a snag. Everything was going too simply!"

There was no true feeling of discouragement. Too much had been resolved for that to happen at this point. Dean tapped his lips thoughtfully. "How about this? Yes, we go out tonight, mostly because there's that zombie double-feature at the cineplex I'd already told you I wanted to hit. Dinner sounds good, but nothing fancy. I don't want to have to worry about table manners when I'm rehashing the best undead killing moments."

"I'm with you so far," Cas said, nodding.

"Then we head back to your place, because I've been slacking on my plant care lately, and I sort of miss the way the sun hits your bedroom window in the morning."

"We could skip dessert at the restaurant, since I have some cobbler I can heat up for us."

Dean rubbed his stomach in anticipation. "Mmm, pie's country cousin. I'm on board. And then…then we'll go to bed. If we're beat, it'll be for sleep. If we're not…" He waggled his eyebrows, and Cas snorted. "But that's all the further we'll plan. See? We can have our pie and eat it, too! Boom!"

"Dean." Cas narrowed his eyes, lips twisting wryly. "We'll both still know it's coming. That's not any more impromptu than the first idea. It's just more us."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to suggest you hide around a corner, then jump out and bite me when I'm least expecting it," Dean huffed. "After all this, I don't think we're going to get a real spur-of-the-moment mating. At this point, every time we start getting handsy, it's going to pop into our heads!"

"But you still want the idea of surprise." Cas tilted his head sharply, brow creased. "Being swept off your feet, right?"

"Well, yeah, kinda." Dean's cheeks burned, and he dropped his eyes to the tabletop. "Feels all chick flick, if you have to say it out loud."

"No, it sounds perfect. So, if I were to…" Without warning, Cas stood quickly, stepped to Dean's side, and pulled him to his feet. In the next moment, he had Dean hoisted into his arms, holding him bridal style. Dean made an undignified noise, throwing his arms around Cas's neck desperately.

"Hey!" he yelped. "What—I thought we weren't doing this right now!"

"Who said that's what we're doing?" Cas said lightly, striding for the stairs. "I'm working on a theory, so go with me. The stress is coming because we're focusing on the promise itself instead of on the meaning behind it. If I want to sweep you off your feet—and I do…" He paused to nudge open the door to the bathroom, rather than the bedroom as Dean had expected, with his foot, stepping in and lowering Dean to settle him on the sink counter. "…then I can do that regardless of any other plans or intentions, major or minor." Taking Dean's chin in hand, he placed a firm kiss on his lips, closed-mouthed but soft and full of heat.

As the kiss broke, noses still brushing as they lingered in each other's space, Dean let his eyes flutter slowly open. "Liking your theory," he said. Castiel beamed, letting his hands slip down Dean's sides and along the fronts of his thighs as he stepped away, turning toward the bathtub.

"Then you'll love the testing and research."

They were almost late to the movie. Cas made a disgruntled remark about missing the previews as they slid into their seats, but Dean just raised an eyebrow; after all, he hadn't been the one lobbying for a Round Two after they woke from the inevitable nap following their luxurious shared bath (and subsequent thorough defeat of a bath's primary purpose). For the next three hours, the two of them put all the weight of the day behind them, laughing and groaning over gruesome deaths and equally painful bad acting.

Dean was the one to propose casual Italian food for their late dinner, based solely on the disgusting imagery of messy marinara, and Cas was barely able to catch his breath long enough to agree wholeheartedly. "Can you imagine Sam's face?" Dean joked, twirling noodles in the vividly red meat sauce. "This is just more proof of why I know we'll work. You've got a strong enough stomach to keep up with me."

"Or vice versa," Cas said, spearing a meatball with playfully feigned violence. "I was the first one to play my cards with the spicy food, after all."

"Kindred spirits, then," Dean said, raising his glass of beer.

"Or soulmates." Cas lifted his in answer, and they drank deeply.

Putting his glass on the table and running a thumb over the rim, Dean said, "Never really believed in any of that, though. I mean, come on—one person, in the whole world, and they're the only one who'll fit? What if they're on a completely different continent, or…or, like, raised in a weird commune, and they get married off as a kid before you can even meet?"

"There's that knack for coming up with strangely detailed hypothetical scenarios, Dean," Cas laughed.

"You get what I mean, though." Dean leaned back in his seat. "Feels like a lack of freedom, too. How is the universe making that decision for you, no other options available, even remotely romantic?" He shook his head. "But, like, finding you, even though the connection might have been there on a basic level, with both biology and personality, was only half of it all. After that, it was all…"

"Intention?" Cas suggested.

"Yeah. And the way we keep talking about stuff, trying to be open." Dean took Cas's hand, toying with his fingers. "No matter how this goes, after tonight, I know it'll be good. We already said yes, so I'm not even worried about the rest."

Cas just smiled.

Of course, being Dean's life, he should have known better than to think the sailing would be that smooth.

Part of Dean wasn't at all surprised that Cas ended their wonderful date night with a kiss to the back of his neck, rather than a bite, as they snuggled down to sleep. It had been too built up, and he could tell Cas was still considering how to turn the moment into A Moment.

He was a bit more perturbed by the end of the week, during which he had counted at least five potentially good openings for Cas to have made his move, none of which had panned out. And, sure, he could have said something himself, or done more than just subtly (though less so with each opportunity) stretched his neck to the side, baring it temptingly. On the other hand, the thought of having their new bonding start off as a result of having his mate need to be told to "just bite me already" was less than appealing.

So he waited. And he waited. And he didn't think Cas had changed his mind or anything, judging by the continued intimacy, both sexual and otherwise, but it was starting to wear on Dean. Sam noticed his increasing edginess, obliquely hinting that, if anything was on Dean's mind, he was ready and eager to "be a presence" for him. Dean was relieved that he and Cas hadn't actually said anything, to Sam or any other friends or family members, about their discussion; he rather wished he hadn't talked about it with Dr. Bradbury, either, since their regular phone call that week had been peppered with unsubtle prompting for details on the subject. He stayed stubbornly mute, for once; the idea of explaining made his pride cringe.

And, anyway, he had a pretty good idea what was going on. Even though he'd thought they were on the same page by the end of the conversation, Cas was apparently still stuck on making things perfect. The way he'd catch Dean's gaze, unreadable thoughts flickering behind his eyes as his scent turned slightly heavier for just a moment, then suddenly pull back as though nothing had happened? Yeah, they knew each other too well at this point for Dean to miss any of those tells.

I should probably just say something.

But he had! He'd been really, really clear, hadn't he? He didn't need a perfect moment; he didn't even want the chick-flick setting! He just wanted it to happen. And Cas had to know all that, intellectually, which meant…

Which meant Dean needed to make his appeal to the other part of Cas. He needed to override the system, so to speak.

That decided, he was very glad he had opted not to bring Dr. Bradbury into these deliberations, because he had a feeling she'd not be entirely in favor of the new plan. He could almost hear her, tutting away, reminding him that using his words was always the best path toward getting what he wanted. Yeah, sure; he'd done that, and clearly that was only going to take him so far. Besides, he wasn't worried; after all, Dean hadn't been the only one of them to make it plain that everything was essentially settled. Cas had said yes, too.

It was time to put words into action.

"Well, I know you prefer morning runs, and I'm sorry about your alarm clock, but I can't say I'm too disappointed on your behalf," Castiel said, satisfaction lining his tone. "Maybe we can compromise, do this once or twice a week? I could perhaps see my way to joining you for one of your pre-dawn runs, in exchange."

"Maybe," Dean said evasively. Ugh, running in the evening humidity was awful, especially after a long day of work. He didn't see how Cas did it. It was a necessary sacrifice, though, and if everything else went as he'd planned it, he'd only need to fake his enjoyment for a short while.

"I ordinarily head north here, up the hill and into town," Cas said, pointing. "That route goes by Simmon's Coffee, which is nice if I need water. Shall we?"

Dean bit his tongue; no, that would be a very bad idea tonight. "Eh, my calves are feeling kind of sore. Mind if we avoid the hill, just stick around the neighborhood? There's that bike path through the woods a couple blocks over, and it loops back and comes out not far from my place if you need a drink."

"Of course," Cas said, all solicitousness and care for Dean's legs, which might have made him feel a little guilty if it didn't play right into his hands. He had to hide his snicker behind a cough.

The bike path was honestly quite pretty; with a little suspension of belief, you could make yourself believe you were actually in the middle of a deeper forest, rather than skirting the edge of a glorified copse of trees. Kids liked to play hide and seek around it, which meant that there were many trampled "paths" leading away from the main trail, weaving in and out of the shadows. Dean waited until they were about twenty feet into it before casually saying, "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Catch me." And with that, Dean took off, veering sharply away into the brush.

He didn't expect to be able to maintain any kind of lead, not based on speed alone. His advantage, the only one he had, was that this time, as compared to the first time he'd run away from Cas, he had an actual goal and a strategy in his head. He heard Cas shout, "Hey!" and spin to follow him; Dean's heart started pounding hard, only partly due to exertion.

It had worked once before, even if he hadn't been trying at the time.

Feeling Cas right behind him, Dean faked a turn to the left, only to grab a nearby tree with one hand and spin around it to head in the opposite direction. His feet slipped on some pine needles as he did, but his hold on the trunk kept him upright, and he laughed out loud when the noises behind him indicated that Cas had had a harder time keeping his feet. "Dean!" came a laughing shout, but Dean didn't slow down to respond.

He did need to build up a bit of a lead, and he needed to start shaping this into what he wanted it to be, so he skidded back toward the trail, pounding hard along it for a few dozen yard. When he was sure Cas was behind him and had him in view, he called back over his shoulder, taunting, "Come on, alpha. Show me whatcha got!" Then he was off into the thicket once more.

This was playing with fire, he knew. But, oh, how badly he wanted to burn.

Within less than a minute, he began to worry that he'd underestimated his boyfriend's ability to move under pressure. The panting coming from behind him felt like he should be able to feel it on the back of his neck; all traces of laughter had disappeared, and Cas wasn't wasting any breath on responding to Dean's taunts. Dean crossed his fingers and prayed that Cas was less familiar than he was with this little woods. Now, where was it…?

There! The recognizable marking on the fallen trunk—recognizable because Dean had put it there himself, years ago when he was one of the kids haunting these woods—marked the otherwise hidden outlet onto his street. He ran hard, only turning and breaking for the mostly obscured opening when he'd nearly passed it. The feint only gained him a few yards, but he didn't need much more, he hoped.

He'd left his front door wide open, home security be damned. With the finish line in sight, he risked calling over his shoulder one more time. "Whatcha waiting for, alpha?" That slight emphasis on the word, every time, was a calculated thing, and it was working, Dean could feel it. He could scent it, emphasized by the endorphins, the perspiration, and the frantic pumping of their hearts as they flew along the asphalt.

Barely through the front door, Dean had his shirt over his head, whipping it to the side. He didn't stop to see where it landed, making for the stairs at what was really an inadvisable pace to run through one's house. The pictures hanging on the wall rattled dangerously as his feet slapped against the floor.

He had bare seconds to spare. Dean crossed the doorway into his bedroom, launched himself onto his bed to land on hands and knees, and presented.

The footsteps trailing dead on his heels froze mid-stride, just inside the door.

For several long heartbeats, there was silence, broken only by the sounds of panting breaths. Finally, Dean lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Cas looked completely wrecked, far beyond what the chase would have done to him. His eyes were dilated to an unbelievable degree, his chest was heaving, his hair—God, that hair—stood wildly about his reddened face, and his hands were clenching spasmodically at his sides. A small part of Dean actually felt a little bad for him. The far greater part of him rejoiced, feeling the last barriers of restraint slipping away.

"Castiel. Alpha," he said, hearing the need in his voice and feeling not one bit of shame for it. "You caught me, so take me. I want you to. Now."

With a cry, Cas lunged for the bed, grabbing Dean by the hips and curling his own body on top; he rolled his hips against Dean's, making it clear that even more credit needed to be given, since at least part of that mad dash had been hampered by an impressive erection. Dean whined in the back of his throat, pushing himself back against it. Cas was mouthing at the nape of his neck, hands moving to push at his waistband, and Dean felt as though he was about to explode.

For all that Cas had always been prone to talk his way through earlier sexual encounters, mixing sinfully dirty talk with a determined search for approval every step of the way, this time he spared no time for words. Yes, Dean crowed, unable to form the actual word as he bucked into the fingers pushing into him, stretching and thrusting. He had wanted this, asked for this, had made his choice long before. "Please!" he begged. "Please, please, please, Cas."

There was a moment, then, that Dean had a sudden thought, as Cas pulled back and yanked at his own clothes. He'd probably pushed Cas pretty deep into his own head with all this, and, well, Dean might have forgotten to consider certain technicalities. "Um, hang on," he said warningly, glancing at the side table. Man, probably should have thought of this before now. All signs pointed to Cas being pretty much non-verbal at this point. If he tried, would Dean even be able to hold him off long enough to grab a condom, let alone get it on him?

But he shouldn't have doubted. Not now, not ever. Proving once more just how absolutely amazing his control over his inner alpha was, Cas actually broke through the redness of his haze to listen. The response was perhaps the least graceful Dean had ever seen Cas, to be sure, but Cas fumbled the drawer open, grabbed the condom, and had it rolled on in record time.

Then he was pushing in, one solid thrust seating him deep inside Dean. He didn't pause before he was pulling back and snapping forward once more, the sound of his hips colliding against flesh loud in their ears. Dean gave up trying to brace himself after only a few thrusts, falling forward onto his elbows and letting Cas give him all he had, taking all that he needed.

It lasted days, or maybe only minutes; time wasn't relevant anymore, and Dean's focus had narrowed only to the physical sensations overwhelming him. The hot slide of Castiel's cock into him, faster and faster, was pushing him to madness; the slam of it directly into his prostate was stealing his breath until he felt faint. When Cas bowed forward over him once more, reaching to wrap a hand around his steadily leaking length, he couldn't even cry out, so starved of air had he become.

The stretch of his rim grew tighter, and Dean lifted his hips as high as he could, craving the knot he felt coming. Cas groaned, biting at Dean's shoulder without breaking skin, and then Dean was coming hard, spilling over Cas's hand onto the sheets.

"Please," he begged once more when breath returned. He was dizzy, the room was spinning, but he needed to focus, needed…just needed. "Alpha. Yours."

With a last hard thrust, the knot swelled and locked them together. A sob ripped its way from Castiel's throat as he trembled and climaxed, and his mouth fell to the side of Dean's neck, clamping hard on the gland. The pain was sharp, and Dean shouted and shook, but in a flash, his brain was buzzing with indescribable feelings. The disorientation he'd been battling increased dramatically, the room spinning, and he gave up trying to make sense of anything at all, letting himself collapse.

When he roused, a hand was petting through his hair. Cas had managed to ease them onto their sides, and he was mouthing gently at the bite mark between murmured endearments. Realizing Dean was rejoining the world of consciousness, he placed a more deliberate kiss on the sore spot. "How long did it take you to come up with that scheme?" he asked, sounding extremely pleased with the entirety of the world.

"Not long, actually," Dean said. "I mean, once I decided on the basic idea, the rest seemed pretty obvious. You gave me the idea, that day in the park when you kissed me."

"Rather risky, though," Cas said. "You must have been pretty sure of yourself. One wrong step, and our mating could have ended up happening on a public trail, you know."

Dean had thought of that, of course. "Yeah, but that would have been an interesting story, too. In its own way." He'd had faith that Cas could have controlled himself before they reached that level of predicament, though it would have definitely been unfortunate for everything to fall apart at that point. "You're an outdoorsy kind of guy, right?"

Cas hummed, little energy left to tease back. "As soon as this knot goes down, I'll be wanting my own bite. Am I going to have to lead you on a chase around the block to get it?"

"Pshh. Maybe a crawl." Dean stretched his legs as well as he was able. "Aren't you glad I kept us from taking the run through town? That coffee shop you mentioned probably wouldn't have been happy with me, dodging behind tables and chairs to escape."

"To be sure," Cas rumbled, kissing his neck again. "Maybe some other time. I'm sure sooner or later, one of us will need to challenge the other. I can think of far less constructive ways of doing it."

"Yeah." Dean yawned. "But maybe after a nap…mate."

The way Castiel's arms wrapped tighter around him, cocooning him in love, security, and everything good he'd ever known or dreamed, was amazing. "Wise choice, Dean," he heard, just before his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off.