"Every second of it."
Dean held his gaze for one beat longer than he wanted to, then looked away first.
After a moment, Arion leaned back slightly and said, "I don't want to ruin the whole afternoon with blood and gore."
Dean blinked at him.
That answer was so unexpectedly human, so unpolished compared to the rest of the conversation, that it caught him off guard for half a second.
"You say that," Dean muttered, "like the first half wasn't already plenty."
A faint curve touched Arion's mouth. "It was."
Dean adjusted against the pillows with a small grimace, then frowned properly. "Wait."
Arion looked at him.
"Did that make you a sigma?" Dean asked.
Arion shook his head. "No."
Dean stilled. "No?"
"No," Arion repeated. "That isn't how it works."
Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to follow. "Then what the hell does?"
