Two weeks later

"So is it a gnarly scar?" Sam snickered. Dean made a face, knowing Sam couldn't see him over the phone.

"Actually, not that bad," he said. "I mean, it ain't pretty, and it's long. But it sort of makes a neat shape, almost like a zig-zag. I was thinking I might get a tattoo around it, play it up a little. It could be a good conversation starter." He moved the phone to his other ear, steering the Impala through the gates into the park entrance.

Sam made an interested noise. "You could do something tool-related, for your job. Maybe make it look like a saw cut, put a hand saw or a circular saw at the end of the scar?"

"Honestly, I was thinking maybe something about biking," Dean said. Imagining his own sport-related ink, like Castiel's Hermes or Jimmy's waves, made him smile. It wasn't the same as a couple's (or trio's) tattoo, not a statement of a romantic commitment that would be way too soon to add permanently to his body. This was something just for him—a way to keep the memory of how, at one point in his life, he did this amazing thing with two amazing guys.

"Well, if you need me to come hold your hand…" Sam teased.

Dean laughed calmly. "Think I got that covered," he said. "I've already been promised that the 'kiss it better' duties will be managed in-house."

"Dude, you promised me no details!" Sam whined. Dean could practically hear him squirming over the phone line. "Look, I'm really happy for you that whatever is going on for you is all that you wanted, but I told you, I still see those guys at work on a regular basis. I do not want to have...visuals."

In retrospect, Dean realized that he probably should have figured out ahead of time what to say when Sam asked him how things were going with his "big decision." He hadn't, though, so the conversation had been more than slightly awkward.

"It's...good," Dean said, trying and failing to keep the goofy grin from spreading over his face.

"You hooked up with Jimmy, didn't you? I knew it!" Sam punched his shoulder, a look of pride and eagerness in his eyes. "And Cas is good with everything?"

"Oh, Cas is...good, too." He faltered a little, nervous.

"He's...too? Huh?" Sam pulled back, staring at Dean, waiting for an explanation. Dean bit his lip, thinking. Finally, he just winked and shrugged. "Oh, dude! How do you...no, you know what? I don't need to know. Just…" Sam waved his hand over his head, closing his eyes. "Just make good choices, whatever that means in this scenario. If you're happy, I'm happy. And do not give me the details."

Dean would try to keep that promise, because nobody really needed to know what went on behind the closed doors of the twins' apartment or his house. He wasn't sure he could explain it himself, most of the time. But he was happy, yes.

He saw Castiel first, jogging along the grass strip between the trees and the parking lot, lifting his knees exaggeratedly as he warmed up. Jimmy was leaning against the hood of their car, fiddling with his phone. "Gotta go, Sammy," Dean said as he pulled into a parking space. "Time to go get dirty in the woods."

"I know you're talking about trail running, Dean, so you don't need to try making me uncomfortable with your innuendos."

"Later, then," he said, hanging up. Getting out of the car and heading over to Jimmy and Cas (his boyfriends, how incredible was that), he did a little spin, flourishing his arms. "Stitches out, doc cleared me. Systems are go for trails!" They clapped for him enthusiastically, and he bowed, flushed with happiness. He'd actually been able to exercise for a week already, but his doctor advised him to stick to treadmills and stationary bikes in less "organic" environments, and Castiel had been firm about following those instructions.

"We'll take it slow, just in case," Cas said now. "The muscle should be fine, and the skin is healing nicely, but there's no need to rush. We're all still technically recovering from a hard race."

"Among other things," Jimmy added, leering. "You sure you're up for running at all, Cassie? After last night, there's no shame in calling an audible."

"So cocky," Cas drawled, rolling his eyes to the sky. "Not that you weren't wonderful, sweetheart, but you know it would take more than that to put me out of commission." He stretched his arms high over his head, arching his back languidly. Despite his words, Dean spied the light bruises on each hip from where Jimmy had gripped him, fucking hard; the sight had been nearly as hot as the obscene things Cas's tongue had been doing to Dean at the same time.

Jimmy chortled. "Oh, ho, sounds like a challenge to me! How about it, Dean?"

Smirking, Dean started toward the trailhead. "Sure, but later. The park closes at dusk, and I don't mean to rip open the other calf, falling over something because it got too dark to see the trail."

How was it possible, Dean wondered, that it had only been a few months ago that running up and down these hills was such alien territory? Now his feet moved naturally over the leaves and dirt, finding pleasure in leaping the occasional stump or large rock. He'd found a rhythm with Cas and Jimmy, too, knowing without saying when one of them wanted to speed up or slow down, understanding the nonverbal signals of approaching obstacles. It was a strange mix of meditation and playtime, this type of running, and he couldn't remember life before he had it.

"There's one of those 'color runs' coming to town next month," he said, remembering the article in the morning paper.

Jimmy made a rude noise. "Overpriced, noncompetitive, and mostly just an excuse for a festival. You want a dance party with body paint, we can do that without screwing up a perfectly good pair of running shoes."

"On the other hand, I saw an interesting obstacle race over in Kansas City in August," Cas called back. "Normally, I'm not a fan, since you spend more time waiting in line at the obstacles than you do running or doing the obstacles themselves, but this one's not one of the major corporate series. Apparently, the grad students at the university are doing it, a partnership between the engineering and the athletics department. The proceeds support the school, and the obstacles sound sadistic, but doable."

"'Sadistic, but doable.' Sounds like you guys," Dean joked.

They were all experiencing a little post-race let-down, which initially had messed with Dean's head, exacerbating his doubts about his performance. The brothers had reassured him, letting him know that it was a common issue. Best way to handle it, they agreed, was to dive back in. Realizing that they had no plans to stop including him in their physical activities, in the bedroom and out, had been mind-blowing and incredible.

Three miles in, halfway around the trail loop, Dean needed to stop for a minute and stretch his leg. The constant ups and downs were taking their toll on muscles that hadn't seen as much use, and he knew better than to overdo it. Jimmy passed him a water bottle, and Castiel leaned up against a nearby tree, regarding them with a look of placid indulgence. His bright orange singlet was only slightly damp with sweat, despite the muggy June humidity. Another strange quirk between the twins; Jimmy, for some reason, was much more prone to heavy perspiration. He joked that it was just one more perk of spending more time working out underwater than on land.

"You really are recovering well, you know. Even without the injury, going as hard in a race as we all did takes a lot out of a person," Cas said. "The rest of your muscle soreness is gone, though?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "It was all worth it, too. God, the look on that guy's face when you passed him."

"I still wish we could do something about the drafting bullshit," Jimmy complained. They'd eventually worked it out that the crash had been the work of the other Sandover team; it wasn't a far leap, when he'd been so reluctant first to tell them the details of the crash, and then to tell them who was the other person involved. There was only one reason why he wouldn't have stalked right up to the judges' tent, demanding that the culprit be disqualified. Cas had been peeved that Dean wouldn't do it, but Dean had refused to let them commit professional suicide over it, and they'd had no choice but to let it go.

"Look at it this way. If she got DQed, Sandover wouldn't have had their two teams, so you'd have been out of the running. Your win wouldn't have counted."

"Our win," Castiel corrected him. "Well, at least there'll be some poetic justice. I've heard Roman saying he was actually impressed with how she kept trying to contest their team's finishing time, saying the support vehicle took 'more than a reasonably expected length of time' to fix her tire, and now he's 'promoting' her to being in charge of the legal department at the new facility headquarters. In Albany. I do hope she likes snow."

"Of course, it would have nothing at all to do with how she ended up wrecking the lead he built up in the swim. Him, be that petty?" Jimmy smirked. "I hear Crowley's running another pool. Little bit more discreet this time, but big money's on her leaving Sandover for the highest bidder who's in search of corporate dirt. Hey, if we see her at Alcatraz next year on another team, can we destroy her then?" His grin looked so innocently hopeful that Dean couldn't resist pulling him in for a kiss, which started out almost chaste but escalated when Jimmy ran his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips, looking for an invitation that Dean was happy to grant.

Within moments, Dean was so wrapped up in the warm wetness of Jimmy's mouth that Cas's deep voice by his ear made him jump in surprise. "Definitely not stopping you two, but perhaps we'd be better off taking this off the main trail?" Looking around and remembering where they were, Dean blushed. He allowed Cas to take his hand and lead them a little ways into the woods, finding a more secluded spot.

"Now, you can't make noise," Jimmy admonished him. "This is a busy park. All sorts of people out here." Dean hadn't seen many other cars in the lot, and they hadn't run into a single other person on the trail, but the idea of being caught, and thinking of what they might do that would necessitate avoiding being seen, sent a delicious thrill up his spine.

Cas nudged him back against an oak tree, then studied him for a moment, thinking. Reaching a decision, he pulled at the hem of Dean's shirt, lifting it over his head. Dean was momentarily confused, having been expecting a quick-and-dirty, mostly-dressed romp, but he understood when Cas folded the shirt in half and dropped it to the ground, kneeling on it for protection against twigs and pine needles.

Jimmy was on him in a heartbeat, heated eyes lighting on his naked chest with desire. He ran his fingers over Dean's ribs, lowering his mouth to his collarbone and biting playfully. Dean whimpered, reaching to run his own hands under Jimmy's shirt to trace his abdominal muscles.

The feeling of Cas yanking his shorts to his knees quickly brought Dean's attention to the present. His hips jerked forward in startlement, and he yelped as Cas gripped his hardening cock and began briskly to stroke it to full erection. "Jimmy, please help Dean be quiet," he asked. Jimmy locked eyes with Dean and smirked, tracing his lips with his fingers. Dean opened his mouth obediently; Jimmy pushed in two fingers, which Dean sucked hard, groaning around them as Cas took his length into his own mouth.

It was torture. Dean struggled to keep still, fought to keep his noises from escaping, but it was a good thing that this looked like it wouldn't take long. He felt a rhythmic brushing against his hip, and when he glanced down, he saw that Jimmy had his own cock out, jerking it rapidly against Dean's side. Dean moaned around the fingers in his mouth, sliding a hand around Jimmy's waist to slip it down the curve of his ass and between his cheeks. Cas was using every trick in the book to push Dean over the edge, first taking him deep into his throat and swallowing, and then pulling almost completely off and using his tongue to tease at his slit. Beyond all that, the roughness of the tree bark against his back kept him constantly aware of where he was and the risk of being exposed.

The sudden warmth of Jimmy coming in streaks against his side with a soft cry was the final straw. He warned Cas, pulling at his hair, and Cas sucked harder around him, squeezing Dean's hips in approval. Dean moaned, slack-mouthed around Jimmy's fingers, as his vision whited out and he came hard in Cas's mouth.

When his head cleared, he opened his eyes and saw Cas standing in front of him, frantically working himself while Jimmy kissed him passionately. Without a thought, Dean dropped to his own knees on his discarded shirt. "Come on my face," he begged hoarsely. Both Jimmy and Cas groaned, and only seconds later, Dean felt hot spurts landing across his cheeks and lips. He licked at the drops he could reach, leaning into the fingers now stroking through his hair in praise.

Jimmy suddenly laughed out loud. When Dean and Cas looked at him in surprise, he gestured around them. "Dusk," he said succinctly. "We're going to have to haul ass back to the trailhead, or else our cars will be locked in overnight." He and Cas gripped Dean's arms to help him up, then cleaned him as quickly and gently as they could, between brief kisses, with the already dirty shirt.

"Everyone set? Last one back to the cars has to live in the park!" Jimmy shouted, scampering back toward the trail.

Cas grinned at Dean, shaking his head in exasperation. "Hope your leg is better, Dean. Come on!" Smiling back, ready to take on the world as long as these guys believed he could do it, Dean slapped Cas on the back and began to run.