Don't Acknowledge It
"This is weird, man."
Castiel looked around at Dean. "What's... weird about it?"
Dean looked at him, a little helplessly, like he was supposed to understand why the situation seemed unnatural. "Well, I don't know, dude, ghosty shepherds us out here to this little shack, locks us in and kicks up a snowstorm? I mean, what's the point?"
Cas looked back at the door. It was frozen solid, from what he could tell, and with no pyrokinesis, telekinesis, or teleportation at the tips of his fingertips any longer, there was not a thing that he could do about it. The only thing he had at the tips of his fingertips was frostbite, although he wasn't sure if it was actually that. All he knew was that his fingers were numb, and that he should have gotten a pair of gloves at the gas station that had stopped at on the way here. To be fair, he hadn't expected their hunt to go this way.
It was meant to be routine. So simple that Dean didn't even bother to tell Sam about before they hit the road to investigate. Castiel didn't know what Sam was doing that was so important as not to need bothered by official business, but Dean had said something about a girl. Girls seemed to explain at least fifty-nine percent of the male hunter's life.
"Perhaps the spirit died of hypothermia?" Castiel guessed, pressing his fingers against the hinge of the door and dragging them up and then down to look for a weak spot in the ice. "Suffocation in a cold environment?"
"What, she froze out here? There was probably heat here, once upon a time," Dean paced along the room. "Why trap us here if she's looking for closure?"
Castiel curled his fingertips into his palms for warmth, licking his lips. He regretted the latter actions seconds later, cold so intense it bordered on pain assailed the nerve endings on the exterior of his lips and he pressed them into a thin line.
"I hate the cold," Dean muttered, dropping into the chair.
It wasn't so much a shack as it was one a one room home, barely bigger than the motel rooms that they so often frequented. It was furnished and it looked relatively new. There was a distinct lack of dust and grime, which, given their circumstances and a lack of cell phone signal, Castiel was grateful for, spirit or not.
He didn't really like the cold, either.
Forty-five minutes later, Cas had decided that he definitely did not like the cold, he had learned three different new cursing combinations from Dean, and had decided that the spirit was definitely out for revenge, murder by the cold.
Cas huffed slightly, blowing out a sigh that turned to pure condensation in the cold air. He had long since given up on the door, or the windows, or any way out because, clearly, they weren't meant to get out. Their only way out, unfortunately, was relying on someone to come looking for them. Either Sam or Bobby would have to be on the top of their game to find them.
Cas wasn't too enthusiastic.
He sank down in the chair a little bit, pulling his coat tighter around his body.
"Well, crap." Dean rubbed at his forehead. "Sam better get off his ass!" He yelled the last part, the noise echoing around the walls.
Castiel kneaded his fingers into his palms more firmly, trying to recreate warmth. His body had started to shake awhile ago, tiny little bumps appearing on his skin. It had to be a human reaction to the cold, but his teeth were clacking together and it didn't exactly feel pleasant. He tried to stop his teeth from doing that, but instead ending up biting the inside of his lip.
"Ow." He raised his hand to his lip, pressing his fingers against the wound. His fingertips came away bloody.
"What-" Dean stopped. "You're bleeding."
Cas pressed his tongue against the bleeding spot instead, wiping his fingers on his pants. "I bid my ip."
Dean sighed. "Whatever. We don't have food, we don't have running water, we don't have heat. This, officially, sucks." He kicked his shoes off. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up if someone shows." He tore the blankets back on the mattress, crawling between them and then vanishing beneath them.
Castiel wondered why he hadn't thought of that, burrowing beneath the blankets on the bed that he had barely noticed before. It hadn't been relevant at first, but now, almost an hour later in the cold, blankets, bed, and sleeping sounded... good.
Instead, he shrank down in the chair and tried to ignore the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he stared forlornly towards the door.
The cold was ridiculously all consuming. There was no ignoring it, or worse, getting past it now. His hands were numb, his face was numb, and the shaking was irritating at best. He'd already made his lip bleed; who knew what other kind of injury he could sustain if he just sat here in the cold? He thought that he remembered reading that the human body had to maintain a certain temperature... ninety-eight, wasn't it? Something close to that, but Cas was sure that the temperature here was nowhere near fifty, let alone ninety-eight. And, if the body didn't maintain that temperature, hypothermia could take place. The body would start shutting down, too frozen to continue maintaining natural processes, like his heart pumping in his chest.
What a strangely ironic way hypothermia would be to go, now, after trapping Raphael, after Lucifer had risen, after he had bought a front row seat to the apocalypse and after having betrayed heaven and somehow, in the process, ended up being human, and not just dead.
Castiel didn't like the idea of dying. Much less dying from the cold.
He didn't know how much time had passed between Dean falling asleep and when Cas finally pushed himself to his feet, but his mouth had stopped bleeding and his entire body was weak from overexertion, from shaking to try and generate warmth.
He licked his lips and crossed the room slowly, tentatively stepping up next to the bed. "Dean." Dean didn't move, so Cas tried again, louder this time. "Dean," he repeated, laying his hand on his shoulder.
Dean jolted awake.
Castiel was about to explain himself, but Dean, with years of hunter's instincts pounded into his veins, hadn't fully come around. So, instead of speaking, Cas was suddenly bearing witness to intense pain shooting up his wrist as it was twisted backwards. He bit back the verbal exclamation of pain, clenching his teeth together and trying to go limp to signal to Dean that he wasn't dangerous.
"You're hurting me," he said bluntly.
Dean's fingers hesitated for a moment before they fell away. "Damn it, Cas. The hell do you want?"
Castiel pulled away, rubbing his wrist. "I'm cold," he continued, still flat.
Dean squinted up at him. "Join the club."
Castiel stared down at him intently. "There are blankets."
"Yeah, what are you getting at?"
Cas clenched and unclenched his fingers. "We could share."
Dean sat up slightly, eyebrows furrowed. "Share what, genius? Body heat?"
He had said it in a mocking tone, but Castiel, after thinking about it, thought that it was a pretty good idea. He nodded.
Dean stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"
Castiel shrugged. "The human body is meant to maintain ninety-eight degrees, so it clearly gives off physical heat, even in the cold. Combine that fact with the blankets-"
"Woah, woah, woah, hang on," Dean interrupted. "You're saying we should sleep together."
"... Is that bad?" Castiel asked slowly.
There were still many things that he did not understand about humans. He had thought after four, five years, he would understand them better than he did now, but that had been a hopeless endeavour. There was always so much to learn about humans, what they liked, and what they didn't, and why Dean was looking at him like he'd grown a third eye.
"Well, it's not how I wanted to spend my evening," Dean muttered.
Castiel shivered hard, unable to get a hold on the cold before it took over, and he curled his fingers into the fabric of his coat. He'd long since unconsciously pulled his sleeves down over his hands, but it wasn't that much warmer.
"This is one of those... cuddle or die moments, isn't it?" Dean sighed. His breath turned to mist, too. "Whatever. Get in bed."
Castiel let out a breath, turning to the other side of the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress to take his shoes off and then slid under the blankets. The sheets were still cold on this side of the bed, but he could feel Dean radiating warmth underneath the sheets. He turned over, ending up practically face-to-face with the elder Winchester. Dean was watching him warily. Cas shuffled into a comfortable position, trying to untwist the coat that he refused to take off, and pressed his nose into the soft pillowcase.
"Jeez, Cas."
Castiel flicked his gaze back over to Dean, forming a question with his eyes.
"You're practically vibrating."
"I'm sorry," Castiel said quietly, pulling the blankets closer.
"Yeah... whatever."
Cas resisted the urge to pull the blankets right up over his head, to duck his entire body under what may possibly make him a little more warmer than he was right now. He had a feeling that that would make him look, what was the word? Stupid.
Dean sighed again. It almost sounded like an annoyed sigh. "Alright, come here."
Castiel opened his eyes again. "... What?"
"Just... come here."
Cas frowned and edged over, moving closer to Dean. "What do you plan to do?" No more than had he said this, Dean reached out, hooked an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close.
Castiel stiffened beneath Dean's arms, which in turn made Dean stiffen. "Just relax, Cas, you're making this so much more difficult than it should be," he muttered.
"Isn't this... exceedingly intimate?" Cas asked after moment, trying to coax his body into relaxing into Dean's arms. It was easier said than done, for some reason. He could hear Dean's heartbeat pounding in his ears. No, wait... that was his own pulse pulsing wildly. Dean's sudden action had... startled him?
Dean groaned. "Yes, so don't tell anyone. Not even Sammy. Especially not Sammy," he muttered. "I'll never hear the end of it."
Castiel drew in a deep breath, beginning to see the inklings of precisely why Dean had pulled him into his arms. Dean was very, very warm. Cas was beginning to understand just what ninety-eight degrees felt like, and it felt like human touch. Although, some part of his mind rationalized that if he were touching something that hot, he would probably be receiving a burn, so maybe the exterior of the body wasn't quite as hot - but it didn't matter. Dean was warm. Cas could feel his body heat even through both of their jackets.
He stared over at Dean, only a few inches separating their faces. Dean still looked cold, and a little flushed, and what Cas had to guess would be uncomfortable.
Dean glanced at him, wincing as he caught his gaze. "Okay, I cannot sleep with you staring at me like that. Just sort of-" He pressed his hand on the top of Cas's head, forcing him to duck. "Put your head down against my... my chest. Don't wipe your snotty nose on my coat," he warned.
Castiel, with his head now ducked down against Dean's jacket, could only see leather and cloth and the darkness beneath the blankets. It smelled a little musty, a little old, but mostly, it just smelled like Dean's aftershave and cologne. This was... this was a very compressed space.
Compressed was good when regaining warmth. Marginally uncomfortable to be pressed together, what with both of their bodies being full grown and past the height of five-ten, but definitely much warmer than sitting out in the chilled air.
"Go to sleep, Cas. If they don't find us before we freeze, we won't wake up, anyway." Dean's arm constricted around Castiel's torso slightly. The pressure was... not unpleasant.
Castiel was quiet for a moment before speaking. "There is pleasantry in sleeping with someone else."
"Dude," Dean interrupted. "No. Do not." He made a noise that sounded like half a scoff, half a sigh. "Don't talk. Don't acknowledge this. Lay quietly, pretend to be asleep, or go back out into the cold."
Castiel, wisely, chose to lay quietly.
He was acutely aware of the moment when Dean fell asleep. His body got more relaxed, the arm around Cas's torso went limp, his breathing evened out, and the awkward sort of tension that was filling the room dwindled.
Castiel sighed and felt his own body relax, snuggling up closer to Dean's warmth. As well as Dean's arm a weighted presence over his side, the warmth radiating off of him was lulling Cas further and further away from the cold of the winter outside of the building, and the cold within in, and into a wholly separate world that he hadn't had the time to discover yet. It was warm, and it was comforting, and... yes, it was far better than sitting in the cold by himself.
Dean's chin rested on the top of Cas's head just then, drawing the ex-angel out of his thoughts. He tilted his head up slightly, Dean muttered something in his sleep, and Castiel froze in fear of waking the Winchester brother up. But Dean didn't wake up, just fell silent again, and Cas let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding.
He ducked his head down again, carefully, as not to dislodge Dean's chin, and closed his eyes. He made the conscious decision to stop thinking about this, partly because Dean had said not to acknowledge it, but mostly because there was no point to try and stay awake. He was warming up, and comfortable, and he, like Dean, he may as well go to sleep.
Castiel hesitantly curled his fingers into the fabric of Dean's shirt and held on loosely. He started counting the throb of Dean's heartbeat through his chest, and he was asleep before he got to thirty.
This is another one of those topics I write for everything. Literally, I've done Johnlock, Spirk, AkuRoku, Merthur, Malec, and now, Destiel cold cuddles. Certain things I just have to write for the platonic (or romantic) ships I sail, no matter what fandom. ;p
PLEASE do not post spoilers S5 onwards. I do not own Supernatural. Thanks for reading! :)