It's long.
The car ride.
He spends most of the time asleep; of course, he's not ever actually asleep, instead he just keeps his eyes closed and listens to the way Castiel hums along with the radio, or feels the way Castiel sometimes lays a hand on his knee. Dean turns off his phone too. And Castiel follows when he sees Dean do it, tossing both the devices in the trunk. No communication from the outside world is probably the best for now. Even if it's Sam.
But mostly, the ride consists of darkness from the back of his eyelids, or the constant blur of trees whipping past. It's like that for the longest time, with Castiel behind the wheel and Dean in the passengers seat. Castiel tries to make conversation a bunch of times, but eventually stops when he notices Dean has no interest in talking.
So, it's silent between them for most of the ride.
And it's the drag of thought that makes the trip the most excruciating. Other than twiddle with his thumbs, Dean's only other option is to get lost in his own thought. Which, when left alone with his own thoughts, can be dangerous.
He keeps hearing the sound of shattered glass, running, screaming.
"You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot? You disgusting sonuvabitch, you listen to me you fuckin'—"
Smash.
"Cas! C'mon! Now!"
Run.
"I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!"
It plays on repeat, a scratched CD stuttering and faulting over and over again. Dean sometimes wonders if maybe they'll just keep driving, never reaching and end, and he'll be stuck, damned for eternity to watch his failure over and over again.
They stop a bunch of times. Mainly because Castiel has the smallest bladder Dean has ever encountered, and they have to pull over every hour on the hour so Castiel can piss behind a tree. They stop to get gas a lot, to pickup food; but surprisingly Dean doesn't really eat too much. And they stop once to sleep, curled together in the back seat of the Impala, pulled over on I-35, in the dead of night, stolen hotel pillows and blankets hurdled over them, Castiel's head buried deep into the crook of Dean's neck, where Dean slowly falls asleep to the smell of mint and honey.
That's the shortest part of the ride for Dean.
It's beautiful.
The cabin.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, the lake was what caught his causing him to ignore the house all together and go straight for the backyard, letting Castiel drag in all of their luggage from the trunk.
The sun is peaking over the lake, trying to get a glimpse of the way the water mixes with the different colors of pinks and oranges catching the sun like scales, mixing with the blurry reflection of the pine trees. The lake gleams through a very thin fringe of trees, leaves draping over. Dean's eyes trail to the dirt and sand at the edge, watching the way the water spikes out to catch the ends of the gravel.
"Dean, are you coming in?"
Dean turns, facing the back porch of the wooden cabin, "Yeah, just a second." Dean replies, and soon he hears the sound of footsteps on wet grass coming towards him. Dean looks over his shoulder at Castiel, walking towards him with now a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, "Cas, you never told me you were loaded."
Castiel tilts his head. "Loaded?" He questions, "Dean, I don't carry any firearms."
"No, Cas, Jesus," Dean shakes his head and laughs," Loaded like, money loaded."
"Loaded" isn't even the right word. By the looks of this, Castiel is filthy-stinkin'-rich. The backyard is long, bright green grass coated across the ground until it's broken off by dusty sand at the start of the lake. The cabin behind him, which happens to make Dean's mouth gape every time he looks back, is the cherry on top of a perfect sundae. It's a dark beige, porch steps leading up to a small balcony, glass table and 4 matching chairs circled around it. The second floor window is split into four parts, side to side and parallel to the roof. If the outside is this nice, Dean can't imagine what the inside will look like.
"Oh," Castiel blushes, "Well, do you like it?" Castiel says quietly behind him, and then hands brush slightly against Dean's back, "We could sleep out here, if you wanted. It's warm enough, and I have blankets inside."
Dean doesn't respond at first, only chuckling at him and trying to catch a glimpse of when the sun sinks down further. Soon he looks to Castiel and smirks at the blue eyes paying so close attention to him. Dean smiles, "Love it, Cas."
Castiel huffs a laugh, "I grew up here." He says slowly, and then he pops a squat right onto the grass and looks up at Dean, "No one ever comes here anymore. It's truly a shame. The lake is so beautiful."
Dean sits down next to him and nods. Castiel parts his lips again and stares at the lake, "This place belonged to my parents. They gave it to us; Anna, Michael, Gabriel and I, but we rarely ever come up to Kansas anymore. Lawrence, Kansas isn't the ideal place to be, according to my siblings."
"Well, we're here now." Dean comments, eyes on the last little sliver of sun bending over the trees in the distance. Castiel sighs. stretching his legs out and leaning back on his arms.
We're here now.
Honestly, Dean doesn't really care where he is. Let it be in jail, in the depths of hell, or somewhere in the middle of Kansas, he doesn't care. As long as he's with Castiel. Castiel makes him forget. Castiel makes him happy.
Dean looks over to him, eyes pondering and watching the water ripple colors of orange and white. Dean knows he's still thinking about it; what happened at the wedding. He's going to have to talk to him about it, because Castiel deserves an explanation. But not right now.
"We should go skinny dipping later," Dean looks to Cas and winks, and Castiel spreads his lips into a gummy smile and laughs.
"I'm sure we have plenty of time to get naked together, Dean." Castiel winks back.
Dean sucks in his lower lip. Leave it to Castiel to get him from gloomy to horny in two seconds, "That a promise?" Dean smirks.
Castiel shakes his head, puffing his chest out and looking back at the lake. "You'll find out."
Dean scoffs, "You suck."
Castiel swings his head to him, eyebrows raised and big wide grin plastered onto his face. "Oh, I will be sucking."
Dean's stomach twists, "Are you trying to kill me?"
Castiel laughs, standing up from the grass and making his way back to the porch. He yells back to him.
"That depends, is it working?"
Yes.
Dean lets out a disgruntled exhale, looking over his shoulder to watch Castiel, or, Castiel's ass, as he makes his way up the porch steps to disappear behind the sliding doors.
"He looks good in basketball shorts." Dean says to himself, grunting when he stands to follow Castiel into the house. And as soon as he's in, his eyes go wide.
The kitchen is huge.
And yes, Dean was right about the inside being nicer than the outside. A speckled granite counter forms an island in the middle of the area, two black stools rest at the edge of the table, a light dangling over them from the ceiling above. The counter that holds the sink, stove, and dishwasher circles around the small island, leaving the refrigerator at the end of the longer counter. Five adjacent windows above the sink display an almost perfect view of the lake. It's dark outside now, the moon giving the water streaks of white. The dim lighting of the cabin gives the room a comfortable and homey feel to it.
It's perfect.
It's honestly tucking perfect.
The kitchen and living room are conjoined, the dark beige living room couch only fifteen feet or so away from the island. In front of that lay a glass coffee table, cliché cookbooks stacked on top of it. A stoned fireplace stood tall in front of the coffee table, wooden mantle above it with family portraits. Dean walks over to the mantle, eyeing the pictures that lay askew on the wooden board.
His eyes draw attention to one picture, though, six people dressed up in front of a blue back drop.
A woman in a dark grey suit, which Dean can only assume is Castiel's mother, has red hair, lips flat and maybe slightly pursed. She lay her hand on a man who is sitting in front of her in a wooden chair with darker hair, in a black suit and a bit of a belly. Dean can only guess that's Castiel's father. Next to him is Anna, gorgeous and sitting in a white dress. She is flat-lipped too, just like Castiel's mother. She is placed next to Gabriel, his eyes hooded and one eye brow raised, lip smirked only so slightly that it's barely noticeable. Dean shakes his head and chuckles at Gabe's sly expression. And seated beside Gabriel is Castiel. Blue eyes dark and shaded in the dim lighting of the room. Face completely blank, showing no expression whatsoever. Castiel's hair is slicked back and he's dressed up in a black suit and tie.
There's a hand on his shoulder, though.
That has to be Michael.
He looks very similar to Cas. Dressed the same, dark hair slicked, mysterious eyes that are almost unreadable, sharp-cut law line. His eyelids shade over a little, brows furrowing just enough to make him intimidating.
Dean clears his throat and forces himself away from the portrait and back to the kitchen. He walks to the window and places his hands flat on the counter, trying to focus on the movement of the water in the lake.
Yeah, they're here now. Okay, cool. But that doesn't get rid of everything to come.
It doesn't get rid of Lisa. It doesn't get rid of Michael. It doesn't get rid of all the pent up worry about Castiel's safety. Dean takes a breath.
"Peanut butter and jelly?"
Dean snaps, turning from his gaze out the window to behind him to the edge of the island counter where Castiel is sitting in one of the chairs holding up a sandwich. Castiel makes a disappointing face and shrugs, "We didn't have anything else in the house. I'll have to go shopping tomorrow. I-I hope you don't mind."
Dean grins and shakes his head, walking to the chair next to Castiel and happily taking it. "Man, I haven't had one of these in a long time." Dean takes a bite and nods at Castiel, "Thanks, Cas."
Castiel shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich, "You should get sleep in a comfortable environment tonight," Castiel starts, voice drained and tired, "I made up your bed."
Dean's head whips and he stops chewing, swallowing hard. "What do you mean, my bed?"
Castiel's lips part and he hesitates, "Well, I—" Castiel swallows and shrugs, "—I assumed you wanted your own bed."
Dean puts down the half-eaten sandwich on the paper plate. He tilts his head at the now worried man in front of him. "Why would you think I'd want my own bed?"
"I—uh—I mean I thought that you'd only want to share a bed if we had intercourse." Castiel stutters and refuses to look Dean in the eye. Dean can't help but laugh.
Dean stands from the chair, taking a step towards Castiel, hands finding tensed shoulders. Castiel looks pretty dazed, blue irises peaking through long lashes, chest puffed out.
It is a good time to do one of his wise one-liners, but Dean doesn't have time for that. So instead he drags biten fingernails down Castiel's arms until they find his hips, dragging Castiel from the stool and pressing him gently into his own hips. By now, Castiel has gotten the hint, and his hands shakily slide to the back of Dean's neck, and he's pulling him forward until Dean can smell sweet jelly.
Dean moves forward to kiss him, and unlike the sweet smell of his breath, his lips are salty like peanut butter. Dean can feel the ends of his lips curling into a smile. Every time Dean kisses Castiel it seems like it's different every time. More or less, Dean knows that he can never get sick of kissing him, because each time is just something he has yet to experience.
Castiel's hands are bruisingly gentle, the way they travel down Dean's back, bringing Dean closer to him with every movement until there isn't an inch of space between them. Forgetting to go easy, Dean starts to part his lips, forcing his tongue inside Castiel's mouth. Through Castiel's thin shorts, it's not hard for Dean to feel the growing hard-on that's poking him.
Dean breaks the kiss quickly and smirks down at him. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"
"Well, if you would like to reach down there and see, I would have no problem with that." Castiel smirks back, fingers toying with Dean's jeans and unbuttoning them. Dean watches his jeans slip down to his ankles.
"Shouldn't we go upstairs?"
"Not patient enough," Castiel groans, charging forward to lock their lips together again, much more fervently than last time, teeth grinding against Dean's bottom lip. Castiel's hands map out Dean's body almost desperately, tugging the t-shirt off of Dean's body like it will kill him if he doesn't do it soon enough. Dean reaches for Castiel shirt, and he obliges without question, exposing his smooth skin and muscled body which Dean will never get tired of looking at.
Castiel's force is strong, pushing Dean back so his butt plops right back on top of the stool where Castiel is leaning over him and attacking his neck like it's new territory. Castiel is hunched over Dean's body on the stool, hands finding Dean's thighs and spreading them apart so Castiel can fit his hips inside the open space, grinding his cock on Dean's.
Dean hisses, thumbs hooking around the band of Castiel's shorts and tugging them down until they fall to his ankles. And seriously, does the guy ever where underwear? Castiel steps out of his shorts, kicking them to the side and stepping back into the slot where Dean's legs are spread to either side, rutting his hard cock against Dean's abdomen where Dean can feel wet pre-come slide against his stomach.
Castiel sucks hard on Dean's tongue and bottom lip before moving to his chest, teeth grazing across his collarbone and skin. Castiel looks up at Dean, which almost destroys Dean, before he sucks on Dean's nipple, tongue swirling against sensitive skin. Castiel teases one nipple before moving to the other, teeth biting gently around it until Dean's head is thrown back.
Dean can never explain the fire he feels in his core when Castiel is touching him. If it were up to him, he would stay like this forever; Castiel's fingers brushing his skin, his lips against his, the smell of sweet jelly and salty peanut butter on his tongue. It would just never be enough. Dean will always need more of him, the most he can get. Dean won't be satisfied any other way.
"Cas, go lower." Dean pleas him, and he hears Castiel breathe out a laugh. Castiel hooks his thumbs around the fabric of Dean's boxer briefs, letting Dean's cock spring free against his stomach. Dean almost falls out of the stool when Castiel wraps long fingers around his length, moving his hand slowly upward to spread slick pre-come around the head of his cock.
"What's the magic word?" Castiel straightens out until his lips are skimming against Dean's.
"Cas." Dean breathes, lips parted and waiting for Castiel's tongue.
"Although I do like hearing you say my name," Castiel teases, fingers moving back down the base of Dean's cock slowly, "That's not what I was looking for."
"Please Cas!" Dean growls at him. Castiel smiles and slides his body down until his face is slotted in between Dean's legs. Castiel tilts his head again, his goddamn head tilt, eyes hooded and lust-blown pupils staring so contently up at him like there isn't another care in the world. Dean feels like he can't open his eyes wide enough. He wants to see everything, every inch of skin, every muscle, every hair. And he wants- he needs to feel him. Dean feels so possessed; so not-in-control when he's with him, when he's touching him.
As if only to make Dean's desire worsen, Castiel nips at Dean's inner thighs, his hipbones, avoiding all contact with Dean's cock on purpose. But Dean just lets him. Because he's so helpless. And all he can really do at this point is just grip onto the counter with white-knuckles and let out whimpers until Castiel finally gives him what he wants.
Castiel lets his lips skim ever so slightly across the tip, but then returns back to Dean's thighs again, sucking in skin and leaving marks. Castiel's fingers are up forward and running nails against his chest, his nipples and stomach, making new marks on top of old ones. And then finally—finally—Castiel licks a stripe from the bottom of Dean's cock to the tip, letting his tongue take in salty pre-come.
"Jesus—fuck." Dean grits through closed teeth, swallowing hard when Castiel's warm tongue touches sensitive skin. Castiel smirks knowingly at him, slowly letting his lips enclose on the tip, letting his head sink down as far as Castiel can go, the tip of Dean's cock hitting slightly against the back of Castiel's throat. Nails dig sharply into the sides of Dean's thighs, squeezing harder the farther down that Castiel goes.
Dean threads fingers into dark hair, watching Castiel pop his head back up only to go right back down, wetting Dean's cock with saliva. Jesus it's only been two minutes and Dean already feels like he's going to come down Castiel's throat. Castiel just knows how to hit all the right spots; pressing his tongue against the sensitive underside of the tip, licking from the base to the top, sucking the tip gingerly into his mouth. It's all so fucking perfect.
"Fucking shit, Cas—so good—fuck." Dean manages to whimper out, and Castiel pops his head off, licking pre-come off his lips, long fingers moving against Dean's cock and spreading saliva across it. Dean's breath is shaken and uneasy, because god, he's holding it back. He wants Castiel to keep going but it's so hard not to come down the guys throat, because he could've done that five minutes ago. But Castiel looks up to him like he knows what he's doing, like he knows Dean's enduring this, and he seems to get a kick out of watching Dean squirm in the stool like a cat in heat.
Castiel dips his tongue back, moaning as he sinks down, deep vibrations from his throat giving the back of Dean's spine a chill. Castiel uses one hand in sync with his mouth, letting his mouth slide off and on Dean's cock while the other is toying with his balls and inner thighs, making Dean's legs evidently spread wider and wider across the stool.
Castiel fingers spread apart, nails digging and fingers rubbing Dean's skin. And Dean can feel Castiel finger's get closer. And then soft fingers are pushing underneath him towards—
Oh HELL no.
Dean will do anything with Castiel. He will, really. He just can't do that. Dean doesn't know if he's just not ready for it now, or if he ever will be ready for it. And it's not Castiel's fault— for not knowing about it, Dean just hasn't reached that level of trust yet. Lord knows if he ever will reach that level of trust. But Dean's not ready—and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he's kind of too scared to tell Castiel that.
So, Dean does what he thinks is right. He leans forward and hooks his arms under Castiel's, pulling him up and letting him flop against Dean's body. Castiel's surprised when their bodies clash, but he doesn't look like he's complaining. Castiel groans wordlessly, his tongue swiping out to catch salty pre-come before he dives for Dean's mouth. Pressure slides in between Dean's lips, and he's thrown back with the saltiness of Castiel's tongue invading his mouth, sucking on his lips.
Dean grabs Castiel's hips and breaks their kiss. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom and lube in one of these thousands of drawers, would you?"
Castiel giggles but shakes his head, hands sliding off Dean's hips as he walks to the couch across from the counter. Yeah, like that isn't an invite to check out his ass.
"Nice ass, Cas." Dean mentions, eyeing the dimples Castiel has at the bottom of his spine, and the way his shoulder blades define the muscles on his back. Castiel turns and gives him a flattered glare. Dean shrugs, "Well you can't just expect me not to look at it."
Dean hears Castiel giggle, and Castiel leans over the couch and lifts a black bag from the cushion. There's the sound of a zipper and some rustling in a bag, and soon Castiel is coming back with a condom and a little bottle of lube in his hand. Castiel puts it on the counter and slots himself back in between Dean's legs, rutting their cocks together and spreading pre-come between them.
Castiel leans close to his ear and flicks his tongue on tender skin underneath his ear. "So, what now?" He whispers.
Dean pushes Castiel back away from him and stands from the stool, flipping Castiel around and pressing his chest flat against the granite counter, "I'm gonna' fuck you on the kitchen counter."
Dean hears Castiel suck in a breath, and Dean lets his cock press into Castiel's
ass as he bends Castiel over the counter. Dean leans his stomach across Castiel's back, biting and sucking across shoulder blades and skin. Dean can hear the noises; the whimpers, the groans, the cries, the broken words that Cas is choking out. Dean threads his fingers into Castiel's hair, letting his other hands smooth across the skin of his back, tracing across his ass. Dean kicks Castiel's feet apart like he was frisking him against a wall, spreading his legs.
Dean is about to grab the condom, but he gets another idea. He is very much willing to try new things with Castiel, and he figures this can't be very much different from eating out a girl. Dean pauses for a second before sinking down on his knees, hands slowly caressing up to each side of Castiel's ass.
"Dean?" Castiel whimpers in question, voice confused and hoarse, head straining to turn and see what Dean is doing, but Dean holds him rough against the counter.
"Shhh." Dean murmurs, "Gonna' make you feel so good, baby. Just relax."
"Dean, what are you— oh, fuck!"
Castiel screams. He actually screams, when Dean licks a stripe right up his ass. He feels Castiel go tense, legs shaking and breath coming out in quick and shallow rasps. And yeah, it's kinda' weird. But it's also kinda' hot as fuck. The way Castiel tastes, how he's squirming underneath him, breathing and moaning out broken sounds of Dean's name.
Dean doesn't stop, licking and sucking on Castiel's ass, making him wet enough that maybe they actually won't need any lube. Dean's hands grind hard against his skin, spreading his ass apart so Dean has better access to lap his tongue closer against the skin. With a little smile, Dean decides to take the torture a little further. He spreads Castiel's ass as far apart as he can, and then sticks his tongue right inside him.
"Dean! Oh—oh god Dean, yes—fuck!" Castiel yells, and Dean hears him smash his hands against the granite countertop. Castiel inadvertently begins to grind himself on top of Dean's slick tongue, letting himself ride against Dean's mouth.
Dean suddenly feels a hands tightly entwine with his head, and he looks up to see Castiel twisted on the counter, whimpering as he holds Dean's head in place. Jesus Christ, seeing Castiel like this; so fervent and so in the palm of Dean's hand. As if Dean can't take Castiel's torture any further, he decides now is a good time to grab Castiel's cock.
And oh boy, the noise from that man. Dean can feel Castiel's legs begin to shake against him as he strokes him, pre-come dripping down Dean's hand. Castiel practically shoves Dean's face in his ass farther, making Dean's tongue go in as deep as it can possibly go. Castiel is tensing around him, making noises and sounds that Dean has definitely never heard before; moaning and crying out Dean's name like it's the only words Castiel knows.
And Dean doesn't stop for a while, fucking Castiel with his tongue, letting Castiel melt against him, his hand stroking Castiel slowly, pushing him hard up against the counter and making him stay there despite his begs to be fucked. Dean swirls his tongue around his hole, sucking and lapping until Castiel's legs are shaking so much he almost can't hold himself up anymore, like no one had ever made him feel this way before.
And it's actually torture for Dean too. He just want's to fuck the shit out of the dude, but at the same time he wants to make Castiel feel good, make Castiel feel drunk on his touch. Castiel can't stop rutting himself back against Dean's tongue, fervently eager to feel Dean's tongue around him and inside him.
"Fuck, Dean I-I can't I, please—fuck me." Castiel gasps, body destroyed and shaking eagerly. With a wide grin, Dean stands, tender kisses being places across Castiel's back and across his shoulder blades. Dean nips and bites, reaching for the condom and lube on the counter.
Dean tears it with his teeth, rolling the condom on to himself slowly, watching Castiel writhe on the counter. Dean squeezes a little bit of lube in his hand, although he doubts they will need it at all. Dean feels the heat in his core as he lines himself up, and it's almost impossible to not shove himself in and tear Cas in half, but Dean alines himself slowly, letting himself sink in carefully.
Castiel groans when Dean's cock is all the way in, Dean's pelvis pressed firmly against Castiel ass, his cock buried deep inside him.
"Shit Cas, so fucking tight." Dean whimpers under his breath, and Castiel grips the edges of the counter so hard his knuckles are white. Trembling and aroused almost to the point of pain, Dean digs his fingers in Castiel's hips, leaning against him for one more tender kiss on his back before he pulls out and thrusts back in again, a little more rough than intended to be. Castiel cries out.
"Please, Dean just—I really need you, just please."
Dean starts out slow, moving his slick cock in and out gently, in fear not to hurt him, but Castiel keeps meeting him every time Dean thrusts forward, like he wants it harder. But Dean just can't do that right away, because he'll come so fast it would be embarrassing. But it is about Cas, and making Cas happy, so Dean will hold it in as long as he can and go as hard as he can.
"You want me to fuck you?" Dean asks, nails dragging across Castiel's back until he's gripping Castiel's shoulder, "Huh?" Dean pulls out and thrusts back into him hard with a loud smack.
"Yes. Dean, please fuck me. Please fuck me." Castiel begs in between shallow breaths, and Dean can see the muscles in his back tense. With one quick smirk, Dean holds a firm grip against him, and then begins giving Castiel what he asked.
And Dean just fucking loses it. His heart, his mind, his senses, everything. Being with him and around him is one thing, but touching him, like this, is just something that Dean knows he'll never fully recover from. He knows he'll never really be able to get tired of it, to want something else. Because this is all he wants.
Smacking sounds fill the room, along with moans and whimpers, and Dean can't hold on much longer, engulfed around Castiel's tightness, his warmth. Being inside him, so deep and satisfying, it begins to push him over the edge. But he keeps fucking into him, as hard as he can, his throbbing cock pounding against Castiel enough to almost send him flying off the counter.
Dean starts to feel hot, and he can feel sweat begin to drip down the side of his face. And Castiel, oh god Castiel, fidgeting underneath him, squirming and moaning and breathing out broken words, letting himself be wrecked. His eyes are screwed shut, mouth parted and lips trembling against the counter top.
"Dean! Fuck, I can't hold it much longer, I'm gonna'—fuck!" Castiel's ass tightens around Dean, making it harder to thrust into him, but Dean keeps it up, not letting himself fall weak, no matter how much his body wants to let go. But Dean can feel it, the heat rising in his core, begging, screaming,to be let out. Dean holds Castiel tighter underneath his fingers, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other spreading his ass apart, giving Dean more room to fuck into him.
Yeah, no, Dean definitely can't hold on.
"Cas! Fuck, Cas!"
Dean feels everything tighten up, his legs, his core, his everything just goes tight, and he can just feel himself come hot inside him, nails and fingers digging hard into his hips. And just like last time, it's like everything goes blurry, and he's heaving and gasping for air, whispering and murmuring broken words of Castiel's name under his breath until he just flops his chest against Castiel's back.
Dean kisses his back tenderly, still out of breath, listening to the man beneath him gasp and moan.
"Hey, Cas?" Dean breathes.
Castiel takes a minute to respond back, clearly still in recovery. "Yes, Dean?"
"We're still sleeping in the same bed, right?"
Castiel chuckles. "Yes, Dean."