A fleshed-out version of chapter 49 of my series The Curling Tide Draws You in, My Dear. You've all been lovely with your support and patience, so I hope you enjoy this. It's what we've all been waiting for, myself included.

A chill rolled off the glass, but that was all right by Dean. The view was too beautiful for a little cold to send him away, and besides – nothing could dispel the lingering warmth permeating his bones. It was a heat born of the safety and comfort between their sheets and it seemed to shroud him all the time these days. It was there always.

Clear moonlight rippled and played across the pristine snow, dousing it with an aquamarine that shimmered here and there. Such serenity was what had spurred him to come here in the first place; he was coming to realize it was something else entirely that made him stay.

He heard Cas shifting in the bed behind him, heard him take in a deep lungful of the musty, cool air. Dean heard this, but jumped a bit when a low voice called out to him, soft and gritty with sleep. "Dean?"

He spun around. Castiel squinted over at him, swaddled in down with waves of icy light wrapping themselves around him in the distorted shape of windowpanes. Dean inhaled sharply; the overwhelming sense of right he felt seeing Cas like this, muzzy from dreams in a bed Dean himself had helped him warm, suddenly struck him mute. He turned toward the window again and it took him several swallows to recover. A shrug. "Couldn't sleep. I was just looking at the moon." Sheets rustled and slid over each other. "Go back to sleep, I'll be there in a minute," he soothed, still watching the quiet tranquility of the snow from their window as small flakes began to float down sporadically. He didn't want Cas to get up on his account.

Suddenly, there was a warm presence at his side. Cas had sidled up to him and was now gazing out just the same, arms crossed over his chest. They stood in companionable silence for some long minutes, taking in the midnight splendor. Dean wasn't sure what made him break their wordless conference.

"This is one of my favorite things, looking out over the snow under a full moon," he began, mouth speaking before his brain could tell it to stop. "There's just something about the way fresh snow blankets the landscape. It's like the world gets a clean slate. And at night, everything is milky fairy light, supernaturally still and silent. It's the greatest peace you'll ever know."

Cas chuckled, eyes still forward. "No wonder you're a writer. You've a beautiful way with words."

The moonlight frosted his strong profile a fragile lilac, softening it somehow, and gilded his smiling lips silver. Dean felt himself teetering on the edge of something important. Unconsciously, he leaned in ever so slightly, but by the time he caught himself he'd also caught Cas' attention. The other man turned his face toward Dean and their eyes locked in a moment of brittle silence held together by anticipation and halted breath.

It was in that moment that everything snapped into place and the pieces came together seamlessly in the way they were always meant to. Before he could think, Dean tipped his head down. Cas turned his shoulders to face him fully, and it was the most natural thing in the world to softly brush their lips together.

Electricity, sparks, lightning, there was a host of clichéd words that finally made sense, yet at the same time seemed bland and undescriptive. His buzzing, numb lips hovered over Cas', crying out for more contact. Hundreds of thoughts and feelings churned away inside him. They skittered under his skin, threw themselves against the back of his teeth like agitated bees. All this and he couldn't say a word.

Cas leaned back, smiling gently. His eyes met Dean's, soft and open with unspoken words that echoed through all the hollow places inside Dean. Cas began to back away and Dean felt a tug on his sleeve. Strong fingers gripped his shirt at the wrist, warm right above his pulse.

"Come back to bed?"

There was a terrifying profundity in that simple question. But Dean was ready. He easily returned the smile, heart racing in the best of ways. "In a minute. I just want to look for a little while longer." A flip of his hand and his fingers circled Cas' wrist. He let his thumb stroke over Cas' heartbeat. "I'll be right there."

Castiel nodded in acquiescence and walked back to their bed. Dean watched him climb over onto his side of the mattress, then turned to face the window once more. The snow was falling faster now, stitching closed all the holes where the old ground had poked through. Everything had changed in the space of seconds, yet the calm of the snow was a constant he could hold onto. He peered over his shoulder at the inviting mountains of comforter. Yes. Constancy.

With one more glance out the window, he padded over to the bed and slipped gracefully beneath the covers and settled on his back. The flannel was welcoming and after everything Dean couldn't help but reach out for Castiel, just a little. Halfway between them his little finger met Cas'; they'd both had the same idea. Dean hooked his finger over the other man's and grinned up at the ceiling before closing his eyes and drifting off with a smile playing across his lips.