"I don't understand." Castiel studied the thin band of metal weighing down his fourth finger, eyes roaming over the outlandish symbols adorning them, frowning in bewilderment. "The usual traditions associated with the exchange of jewelry—such as rings—are intergalactic equivalents of marriage. But we…"

The Doctor smiled at him, running his thumb across the angel's worried brow. "Don't be silly. We don't stay in one place long enough for it to mean anything, and I like it that way. This is just… insurance, more for me than for you."

"Insurance?"

"Precisely." The Doctor moved in closer, and Castiel couldn't help thinking this was the point in the conversation where he usually stepped away, gave Castiel his space, jumped to the other side of the room, singing out his newest plan merrily. Castiel was used to that. He wasn't used to his throat closing up and his ribs contracting as his chest expanded. He shuffled his feet slightly, rubbing the worn tread against the grates in the console room.

"You see, my wonderful little angel, you're difficult to find."

"Why would you need to—"

"I know I could call you here, shout out your name and boom!" the Doctor closed and re-opened his hands quickly, "angel in the house, but you're busy on Earth and since you've asked me not to interfere, which is stupid but I do it anyway because I know you—"

Castiel bit his lip and frowned again. "Those are merely precautions to prevent—"

"Hush and let me finish, won't you? Castiel." The Doctor looked him in the eye for the first time during his spiel and gripped Castiel's arms like a vise, erratic emerald eyes running over his face as if he was reassuring himself Castiel was still there and hadn't left yet. "I like knowing where you are. I worry about you."

"I have never been harmed when away from you. And how would that involve a ring?"

"I'm getting to the rings." Something glinted in the sallow light and Castiel noted with surprise a ring identical to his own on the Doctor's previously wildly gesticulating hand. "Anyway, I know you've remained in one piece every time you've come here, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way. Rule number thirty-two: Never trust the ones you love not to lie to you about getting hurt."

"Lying is not—"

The Doctor stared him down, something resembling anger flashing behind his countenance. His fingers tightened around Castiel's arms and turned white against the crinkling coat. "Don't lie to me about not lying to me."

Castiel kept quiet.

"You go prancing off to Earth and return here every so often, either because here is your Ground Zero or because you love me; you forbid me from accompanying you in saving the very planet I've invested most of my lives in; and I listen because I love you and trust you not to get yourself or anyone else killed, so by God won't you give me some peace of mind in knowing where you are—so I can at least help when you finally do get hurt?"

"I…" Castiel ducked his head to stare at the pulsating lights dancing across his shoes. He avoided the Doctor's eyes and murmured, "You still haven't gotten to the rings."

The Doctor released Castiel's arms, relaxing from his earlier passion, running his fingers down them and wiping the grime off his coat. He stopped to cup Castiel's hands in each of his. "They've got a charm on them. Different charms, of course, because finding a Time Lord is much different from finding an angel, but it boils down to the same idea—I know where you are, right down to the last thread on that old coat of yours, and you know where I am. Even if I regenerate, or you switch vessels, they'll still work." He let go of Castiel's right hand and tilted up his chin with his left, forcing eye contact. Castiel tried not to get distracted by the warm metal rubbing against his skin.

"You've had the advantage of finding anything you've wanted in the blink of an eye. Won't you let me level the playing field?"

Images ran across Castiel's mind, unbidden and unwelcome, of his Doctor hurt, struck down by a Dalek, shot by a Cyberman, even carved into by a demon, blood blossoming across his chest and Huon energy rising from his mouth like speckled ashes from a fire; Castiel wasting time using Heaven's increasingly undependable resources to find him. He imagined himself stranded and unable to contact anyone, leaving the Doctor no leads to follow to mount a rescue.

It was too much. Too much to risk, too much to lose. The smart thing would be to turn away now, find a new Ground Zero and watch over the Winchesters alone, like he did before he was tethered irrevocably to an unreliable maverick of a man.

Too late.

"Yes. Of course we'll use the rings."

The Doctor started to grin wildly before reeling it in and returning his hand to Castiel's, letting go of his face. "Do you swear you'll never take it off? And even if you change vessels you'll try your hardest to recover it so I can find you in your new one?"

"Yes, I swear."

Castiel stiffened when he found himself suddenly encased in the Doctor's arms, twin hearts drumming through the layers of fabric to meet Castiel's. He gradually let his body relax and hooked his own arms around the Doctor's waist, nestling his cheek into his tweed shoulder.

"I'm sorry if I worried you before."

A gentle gust of breath tickled his ear, and Castiel recognized it as the kind of laugh Dean and Sam shared after coming out marginally victorious. He pressed the Doctor closer to him.

"It's not your fault you're the first person I've cared about who I couldn't find in a matter of minutes. Thank you, for helping out a paranoid old man."

"You forget I'm older than you."

"A paranoid young man, then."

"…you're welcome."

And he meant it.

A/N: This is the first 'telling a story' fic (and also angst-free) fic I've written in months.

Wow. Doctiel really does cause miracles.

Can I just take a second to say how much I love this ship? And also a second to dedicate it to the lovely Chris, whose gifs and graphics run the Doctiel world.

I hope you enjoyed it.