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"How the hell did we get this deep into the woods?"
"I suspect we were so focused on the chase, we didn't realize how far or how long we'd been running."
The angel is placid, of course, unbothered as ever by their situation. Dean grunts in response and pulls tighter at the edges of his flannel.
The sun had been high when they'd started tracking this thing, and the October air had been warmed to an almost summerlike feel. But now, as dusk deepens around them and they try to find their way clear of this thick forest, the chill of Autumn is invading. The temperature has dropped so drastically that Dean's starting to worry that he'll be at risk of frostbite if they don't make it back to the car soon. He rubs his hands together, trying to keep the numbness at bay, and rolls his neck to work out the tightness of his shivering muscles.
Cas snags a corner of his sleeve, and thereby his attention. "Dean, are you alright? Do you have an injury? You seem uncomfortable."
"M'fine," he grits out, fighting the tremors of his jaw.
"Are you sure? I'm concerned for you."
"I'm cold, Cas. It's freezing out here, and I'm wearing a t-shirt and flannel."
"Here, have my jacket."
Dean opens his mouth to say "no, thanks." He's about to insist that they just need to walk faster and find their way to Baby sooner. But Cas shucks his trench coat and suit jacket before he can get a word out. The angel hands him an armful of body-warm fabric with a smile, and Dean is too charmed, and too chilled, to resist.
"You sure, man?" he murmurs, already feeling his shudders ease for the first time in an hour as he pulls on Cas's coats. It would be rude not to ask, but God, he's hoping for a "yes" because he does not want to give these clothes back right now.
"Very sure."
He looks at his friend, now striding through the freezing woods in only his shirt sleeves, and guilt lances through him. "I mean, I don't need both of these. You can have your coat back and I could keep the jacket?" He starts to shrug the trench off, but Cas puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"I don't experience the cold as you do, Dean, but even if I did, I would still--" He cuts himself off. "Anyway, it's fine. I'm fine." He turns away and resumes walking, his pace brisker than before.
Dean follows, wrapped in warmth and lost in thought as he considers possible ways Cas could have finished that sentence. After another twenty minutes or so of walking, they manage to stumble across the car. With a whoop, Dean rushes to start her up. He revs the engine before turning the vents on full blast and waiting for the heat to start pouring out.
As Baby's interior warms, he peels off Cas's coats and hands them back. The angel tosses them into the backseat. The sight of him sitting comfortably in the passenger seat, dressed down and touchable, warms Dean in a way that the Impala's heat can't. He reaches across the seat to take Cas's hand.
"Thanks," he says. "For the coats, and, y'know... Everything."
Cas squeezes his hand and smiles. "Any time."