A/N: This took FOREVER to write. I got the first bit quite easily, but nothing after that wanted to come easily. I basically scraped a rusty pitchfork against the creative centers of my mind. Enjoy.
"Dammit, Cas," Dean muttered, shivering in the cold night air and tugging his worn leather jacket on. Castiel was gone. Yeah, he'd left a note behind (I have gone outside for a walk. Do not come looking, Dean.) but Dean was restless and needed the angel, if only for his calming presence.
Dean wandered onto a rough dirt path, leaving the flickering yellow lights of the motel behind. Through the dense canopy of trees, a sliver of moonlight shone, lighting the way for the hunter.
"…always gotta go wandering off…" "…friggin' baby in a trenchcoat…" "…angel of stupid..."
And then he spotted him.
Castiel was perched on a large boulder, legs folded neatly beneath him and hands clasped in his lap. His head was tilted back, eyes fixed on the cloudless night sky.
"Cas," Dean murmured, momentarily frozen at the—well, angelic—sight of him.
The angel did not need to turn. Dean knew that he had heard him. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, his breath puffing out in clouds.
"Thinking."
Dean made his way to the boulder, the frosty grass crunching underfoot. It seemed to take an eternity (or maybe that was Dean's lack of sleep talking) to reach Castiel, but suddenly Dean was face to face with him. "Why are you thinking out here, man? It's freezing!"
Cas squinted. "I do not get cold, Dean. If you are, however, I can make you warmer."
Dean huffed a little bit, pretending to hesitate. "Uh, yeah…I mean, I guess that would be cool."
"All right. Stand very still and shut your eyes. You will feel a slight burning sensation for a few seconds."
Dean did as he was told, bracing himself for whatever the angel was about to do. He was not prepared for the near-electric shock that shuddered throughout his body, rendering him motionless.
He was blind and all he could hear was the roaring of warm blood pulsating through his veins. Then it was over and he was on the wet ground, Castiel kneeling beside him.
"Are you all right, Dean?" the angel asked, looking worried.
"Y-yeah," the hunter replied, breathless. "What happened?"
For some reason, the angel was blushing, his impossibly blue eyes lowered in embarrassment. He replied too quickly, with a hasty, "Nothing."
"Cas?" Dean asked. "What's up?"
"The sky," Castiel replied, looking confused.
Dean groaned and sat up. "No, I mean what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. You should probably get back to the motel. Sam might be wondering where you are," Cas said, glancing away.
"Dude, quit with the whole 'aloof' act. Just tell me."
"I said nothing, Dean!"
Dean backed up a few steps, slightly shocked. "Fine. Okay. I'm going back to the motel."
He turned away from the angel and began back down the path, huffing out a low stream of curse words. He had almost disappeared entirely to the trees when a softly calloused hand gripped his shoulder—exactly where the hand-shaped burn was.
Cas spun him around, a burning intensity in his eyes, and crushed the hunter's lips in a kiss.
