Work Text:
Thunderstorms used to terrify you. You could remember laying awake at night, watching as the lightning lit up your room and cast shadows across your walls, and then counting the seconds before a crash of thunder would make your bed shake. You were always told it was a ridiculous fear, and nobody had ever tried to actually help you through it. The only advice you had been given was face your fear head-on, but it was hard to face an enemy when the enemy had no face.
It wasn’t until high school that you really began to appreciate the way the thunder made your body vibrate. You’d failed a test, lost your backpack, and dumped your lunch all over yourself in a single hour; you’d been so fed up you skipped class to sit in your car and calm down when the storm really started up. You gripped the steering wheel, keys in the ignition but engine off, when the thunder erupted overhead, coursing over your body with an fierce fury. But you weren’t scared this time…instead it was relieving. After another strike of lightning across the sky brightened the area, you counted the seconds until the thunder boomed and again it gave you a happy euphoria. It felt strange to say that something you once feared now satisfied some intangible emotion inside of you.
It was something you’d never shared with anyone before, until you met Dean Winchester. You sat in the back of the Impala now, leg injured and stretched across the seat as Dean parked the car in front of the motel. Raindrops began to fall, and in the distance you heard the familiar growl of the storm as it edged closer. Within a few seconds the clouds opened up and poured down onto the world.
“So much for getting inside dry,” Dean muttered. “Come on, I’ll help you in.”
“Nah, I’m good,” you replied. He turned around, hand on the door handle. He had to crane his neck just to meet your eyes.
“What?” he questioned.
“I wanna listen to the rain,” you stated. You shrugged.
“You wanna what?”
“Listen to the rain,” you repeated. “Haven’t you ever just listened to a thunder storm?” You held up a finger before he could answer and a crack of thunder came from overhead, louder than the first.
You didn’t let Dean say anything. “Come on, just close your eyes and listen with me.”
Dean quirked one eyebrow at you before relaxing into his seat. You shut your eyes and listened to the patter of heavy raindrops on the roof, resting your head against the door. It was cool against your skin, and you were a little happy that you’d sprained your ankle. That happiness fell though when you heard the driver’s door open. You lifted your eyelids to see Dean climbing out, but rather than running for the motel as you thought he was, he opened your door.
“Dean, I said I don’t—” you began when he lifted you up easily, shuffling his body beneath yours. Slamming the door shut, Dean settled in, inching you over him so your head rested against his shoulder. You tried to look at him but was interrupted as he cleared his throat.
“If you’re going to make me sit in the car all night I might as well have a better seat,” he said. His arm came over you, his fingers brushing against your wrist. They were so warm, and you hadn’t realized until that moment how cold you actually were. You turned your head, the tip of your nose touching his neck. What few drops had fallen on him during his quick run to the backseat soaked into your clothes, reminding you of what little space there was between you.
“It’s not all night,” you said. Although that wouldn’t be so bad, you thought. You let out a small sigh and closed your eyes, feeling your lashes brush over Dean’s skin. He shifted again, getting more comfortable.
After a few minutes of listening to the thunder and rain, he said, “I can see why you like this.”
“See?” you asked. “You should listen to me more often.”
Dean chuckled, vibrating against your. You smiled, thinking of how he felt like thunder. His other arm came up and around you, wrapping over your shoulders. “Maybe I will,” he agreed. “If they involve doing more things like this.”