They were calling it casual sex. Though, arguably, it was more thank-god-you're-alive sex because it had become a habit after every run outside Chitaqua. Like the alcohol and the popping pills.
"Not a habit," Cas would argue, half drunk and half high, "Normal."
Dean would just chuckle and take another shot of the whiskey.
He needed the strong stuff after runs, and told himself that that was normal too; just a coping mechanism. Something he'd use to deal with everything going on, or more specifically, the end of the world.
Turns out Cas was one of those coping mechanisms, too.