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Cas blinked out of the doze he’d found himself in. He must’ve been just as tired as Dean to actually drop out of active consciousness. Speaking of, Dean had clearly also fallen asleep, as his head was now using Castiel’s thigh for a pillow. His sleep was restless and he was muttering; that must have been what roused him. He was about to quiet Dean’s dream when the hunter wrapped his arms around Cas’ thigh and snarled “my Angel,” then snorted like some triumphant beast and lay still. Whatever dream Dean had been having was over.
Cas smiled as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair and whispered into the silence of the room, “always.”