"Dean, seriously? I told you we'd need snow tires for tonight. I told you." Sam relinquished his bitchface as he turned to look out the passenger side window. Dean tried his hardest to move the Impala out of the piling snow and mud, but the wheels were stuck in their tracks. He slammed the gas once more before giving up, hitting the wheel in embarrassment and anger.
"Well forgive me for wanting to shave half an hour off our trip by cutting through this alternate path—how was I supposed to know the Russian winter was gonna hit Maine tonight?"
"I told you, Dean, but you don't like to listen to me because you're always the 'wiser' one. Oh yeah, real wise."
"Look, blaming me for this isn't gonna budge the car any. So is there any signal?"
Sam looked away as he pulled out his phone, shaking off the last bits of resentment he had. "Nope, nothing. And I'm sure yours is shot too." He slipped his phone into his coat jacket and made a fierce shudder. "Gosh it's really biting out there, that heater is doing more harm than good."
Dean put his hand to the vents, feeling the cold, flowing air, and quickly shut off the air conditioner in response. "Well in this freeze—"
"One of us is gonna have to make the trek to that last town we passed," Sam blurted out impatiently. Dean responded with a dreading groan. "I could check on how much salt we have, but I can tell you now that we're seriously depleted and what we have can't give us any traction. So who's gonna do it?"
Dean looked out the back window only to see a thick coat of snow layering it. Contemplating the journey out of the forested-dirt path a mile long and the even longer trek back to the last town, Dean gave a large, deep groan and slouched in the driver's seat.
"I think I know what that means? And you're the one that got us stranded here too!"
"Sammy, I think you'd get more out of going than I. You'll want to get your blood pumping, ya know? You seem to be near-frozen just sittin' there. I mean the hard, cold leather, the freezing sides of the Impala? They seem to really be nipping at you." He closed his eyes and gave a small twitch of a grin, one his brother didn't miss.
"I know what you're trying to do. Luckily for you I uh…wouldn't mind running up there." Sam shifted his gaze a bit and Dean looked at him sideways. "As long as you give me your jacket, this one alone won't cut it."
Dean looked at him still when Sam sputtered, "Just give me your jacket, you don't seem to be suffering, and it's bigger."
Finally, Dean lifted up and slipped his jacket off, handing it to Sam. "Don't get any piss on it while you're doing your business," Dean said loudly, keeping his straight face. Sam took the jacket and blushed slightly, turning to get out of the car. "And don't waste time spelling your name either!" Dean hollered as Sam slammed the door.
Not five minutes passed before Dean began to desperately miss his brown leather jacket. With only a cotton long sleeve shirt and jeans he didn't fare well at all in the harsh, bitter snow storm. After leaving the car off for a while he tried to turn it back on. The pitiful sputtering of the Impala made his heart sink as he himself sunk back into the leather seat, shuttering at the touch of the freezing upholstery.
In Dean's shivering desperation he clenched his shaking fists together and called for Castiel. He never seriously considered the alternative till now, and he hated the idea of calling on his angel for something as insignificant as the chills, but these chills were killing him. He didn't care anymore if Cas was in the middle of something important, he wanted his angel.
Even the words of his prayer in his mind were chattering—he couldn't help it. After finishing his plea he slowly opened his eyes and glanced to his right. The passenger side was empty and Dean tipped his head back with a groan. He wanted to hold the angel in his arms, get under his shirt and feel the man's chest and heartbeat. The thoughts of ravishing him in the backseat of the Impala made his heart ache with painful desire.
"Dean, I hope you aren't exaggerating merely to lure me here quicker."
The tone of Castiel's voice caressing his right ear from the back seat made Dean melt, but not before making his heart flutter with shock.
"Oh shit, Cas!" Dean bellowed. "You'll always find ways to catch me off guard like that." Dean gave a deep exhale and lifted his body, turning back to face Castiel. Who he found was his angel, not but a few inches from his face, staring into his eyes with radiant marbles of blue and the most adorable grin he could ever dream of. "Don't stop, though," he whispered.
To that statement Castiel beamed with pleasure.
Dean couldn't help but hang his head in gripping laughter. "Cas, can I join you back there please?" he choked out.
"Of course, Dean." Castiel leaned back and allowed him to slip between the two front seats and plop next to him.
"I know why you called, and honestly I was afraid you wouldn't think to."
For once it was Dean's turn to tilt his head in confusion. "Wait so you were watching over me or something? Were you prepared to come to my rescue?" He could see the fog glass wall that was Castiel's angelic ambiguity shatter as the man before him realized he'd said the wrong thing. With a flicker of his eyes and the scrunching of his forehead, Castiel buckled in telling the truth, embarrassment soaking his speech.
"I uh sort of knew you'd bump heads with your brother over the snow tires…and the half an hour short cut would be too good to resist for you…so the snow storm, I thought would be able to—"
"Cas, did you really unleash Russian winter on me to get me alone?" Dean exclaimed, holding back just enough whimsy to put fear in Castiel's heart.
"I—I know it was an awful thing to do, but I—I—I just saw the chance and I thought—" Castiel was cut off in his attempt to save himself by Dean's lips. He felt all of Castiel's worry and tension melt through his lips and Dean leaned in to snake his hand up Castiel's dress shirt.
Pulling away from their embrace, Castiel couldn't help but still feel guilty, "You aren't mad? If you're mad I can—"
"Cas, I was teasing you big time, which is cruel of me because you don't see much past face value." Dean scanned Castiel's chest with his eyes all the places he wanted to rub his hands over.
"I see nothing wrong with face value, Dean. Not with a face like that." Castiel then cupped Dean's face in his hands and pressed his lips lightly to the side crevice of Dean's freckled nose, his breath making Dean's eye lashes flutter. As Castiel explored the entire value of his face, Dean once again slipped his hands up and around Castiel's shirt, feeling his back and shoulder blades.
With a sudden nipping draft slipping past Dean's neck, he gave a sudden shiver. He didn't allow Castiel to pull away from their kiss yet as he pushed him down and slipped off his trench coat and quickly parted his button up dress shirt. He then wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled away from their kiss, holding him the tightest, closest hug he'd ever given him. He rested his head on Castiel's chest and closed his eyes. He ignored any sexual drive he had in his pants and only wished for a blanket.
Almost as if in response to his prayer, Dean felt an article of clothing being tossed onto his back. Castiel maneuvered his arms about Dean's body to try to position the trench coat over the two of them without disturbing his clinging lover. Dean couldn't help but feel a swell of enamor and affection rise in his body as he realized what Castiel was doing.
Dean lifted his head slightly to give Castiel a long, soft kiss on his chest, grazing his nipple. "Cas, this is all I could ever ask for and more." He gave a final, deep exhale and rested his head on Castiel's chest once more, feeling his body melt over the man.
Castiel finally stopped shifting the trench coat, determining it was perfect and said only one thing more: "If this trench coat is all you could ever think to ask for, just wait till you see the kind of blanket I bring for next time."