Morning light spilled in, catching motes of dust midair. Dean slid toward consciousness and stretched. There was a deep satisfaction thrumming through him. He frowned when he realized he was alone.

The wooden stairs creaked with the cold under his feet. Cas was at the counter, stirring his coffee.

"Morning."

Cas turned and gave Dean a small smile. The air was thick with nervousness, excitement, expectation. Cas looked down. "I'm going to make the rounds with the boat. Want to come?"

"Ha. No." It was ten below. "Stay warm out there," Dean said, tugging Cas' buttons casually with one hand.