This should be something simple; something casual and cozy. The way that Crowley’s arm snakes around his waist, settling around him comfortably, should feel easy. It should, but it doesn’t. It feels like a door being opened to the most perfect of perfect homes that he might also be evicted from at any moment. It feels like something he shouldn’t have and something that might be ripped from his hands by those who surely agree with that particular feeling of his.

Or maybe that was just his nerves talking?

This should be something simple, he repeats to himself. Nothing ought to happen from something as little as this.

“I’d like that,” he says as a hand settles over the one Crowley has resting against him.

“But I won’t hear any complaints about how I raise them.”