Logs popped and sizzled as Dean poured him another three fingers of whiskey. He accepted the tumbler and held it in his lap, watching the firelight reflect off glass and alcohol. The windows rattled against the gale outside and rain snicked, snapped against the glass, but Castiel felt warmer than he ever had in his entire life. He glanced up, watching Dean deal another hand of gin rummy. Dean thought himself talented at cards; Cas didn't have the heart to confess he'd been raised on card games in a competitive family. He thought maybe he'd let Dean have this round.