Stretched out beneath Castiel, Dean hasn't opened his eyes for the better part of an hour, content to let the sun deepen his freckles they way it always does come springtime, the warmth of it as welcome as the weight of Cas against his chest.

He feels Castiel stirring, but only lifts a hand to stifle a yawn. "We got another half hour yet," he murmurs. "Annie's walk was extra long."