Dean slept hard for a good five hours. The previous day plus the drive and the really spectacular ride on Nathaniel's machine had all combined to knock him cold. When he woke, it was to the sound of his stomach growling urgently. Even so, he took his time getting up.

The bed was warm and a dozen times more comfortable than the ones he was used to on the road. He stretched and squirmed, reveling in the other man's scent on the sheets and pillows. One hand moved slowly to stroke the soft leather circling his neck. A long, deep sigh escaped him. If this wasn't complete contentment, he didn't know what was.

Finally, he got himself out of bed, didn't bother with getting dressed, and wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. As he poked around, it occurred to him that learning to cook might be in his best interests if he was going to be spending much time here. Ultimately, he ended up with another sandwich. Not the most imaginative of meals, but it did the trick.

After he was done, he cleaned up and headed back to bed to wait. He wasn't sleepy, but the bed was too comfortable to resist for long. He kept his phone close, waiting for Nathaniel's text.