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The world was pure white with the blizzard that had overtaken them as they drove. Dean had put chains on the Impala, but it had not helped enough. Driving was slow now and he was miserable and wet from his time spent out in it all. Cas had helped. He lifted the car like it was nothing while Dean slipped the chains into place.
Now Cas sat in the back seat, staring out the window like the world wasn’t a miserable winter wonderland. Sam reached for the heater to turn it down. Yeah, he wasn’t freezing his ass off out there. He can just keep roasting. Dean slapped his hand away from the knob. “Ouch. It is getting a little warm.” Sam sounded whinier than usual and Dean just stared straight ahead.
“Next time you get to handle the chains.” Dean turned up the music to end the discussion.
Cas leaned into the space between them and said, “I could swap seats with Sam. The temperature won’t bother me.”
Sam gave Dean a little swat and said, “Pull over.” Dean complied.
Sam opened the door and a strong gust of frigid wind blew into the car. Sam rushed to the back door to get in, passing Cas on his way. Bet he already regrets not being next to the heater. Cas closed the door and adjusted his coat as he settled into his space. Dean watched him for a few moments longer than was absolutely necessary. Cas glanced at him.
Sam leaned up into the space between them. “Well, let’s get moving.”
“What, you freezing back there now?” Dean laughed as he said it.
‘Shut-up.” Sam leaned back again and seemed to have plans that involved sleeping. Dean made sure to swerve a little as he pulled back onto the road. It wasn’t as jarring to Sam as he had hoped that it would be since he had chains on the car, but the look on Sam’s face in the rear view mirror told him that the message was received.
Dean wasn’t sure why he was irritated. Scratch that. He knew. He just didn’t want to deal with it. Now, he was sitting next to Cas not dealing with it. Way to go. They drove for an hour. Dean forgot to turn the music back up. Instead he let himself think. Thinking did not help.
The world outside had taken on a twilight glow over the snowy land. Dean was more irritated than he had been before. Each hour of travel time netted them a mere 20 miles in their wake. Sam was in the back snoring. Dean let out a frustrated huff of air. Cas moved in the seat next to him. It was the first movement from him in the past hour. He seemed to shift closer to Dean.
Dean looked at him. The snow was still falling outside and he was growing tired of the slog through it. “I might stop at the next town. The snow is awful.”
Cas moved again. He was closer, marginally. “That seems reasonable. You will need sleep too.”
“Eh, not tired. I just don’t like driving in this. I’d rather wait, and I hate waiting too.”
“You’ve been angry the last couple of days. Maybe sleep will help.” Cas was watching him. When Dean met his gaze, he turned away.
“I haven’t been angry.” Dean sounded angry though.
“Oh.” Cas turned back to him. “Sorry, my mistake.” The tone was sarcasm, and Dean was ready to kill Sam again for teaching Cas that. Then he fell silent and thought that maybe he was as much to blame.
“I’m not angry, just irritated.” Dean finally admitted. Cas accepted the admission in his quiet way. Sam still snored away in the back seat.
“Why are you irritated?” Cas asked.
And there was the crux of it all. How do you explain something as complex as what he was feeling? How do you explain things that you don’t even understand yourself? Dean started to reach for the stereo knob and Cas’ hand fell on his stopping his effort. “I don’t know,” Dean said, and Cas’ hand slipped back to his own space.
“I’ll just wait then, until you figure it out.” Dean couldn’t help but smile as Cas spoke. His words reminded him of a long ago song. It also reminded him of Chuck’s book, which he read so long ago. The way that Chuck described his interactions with Cas carried a great deal of subtext. Dean had pushed it all aside then, but now, he was reluctant to keep doing so.
There was a motel up the road, glowing out into the early night. Despite the heat in the car, Dean still felt cold. He always felt cold. What he wouldn’t give for just a little warmth. He imagined the life that would come with all that warmth. He imagined the hands that would press the heat back into him, resting over his heart that had so much need of it. He turned slowly into the lot. Next to the office was a small seemingly deserted diner. It was open at least.
Dean stopped the car and Sam jerked awake. “We home?”
“No, go get a room. I’m gonna go get dinner with Cas at the diner there.” Dean pointed off to the side. “Want us to bring some back for you?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied over a yawn. He got out and stumbled off to the office.
Cas waited for Dean to get out. When he didn’t move right away Cas said, “Are you okay?”
Dean looked at him. His eyes blue even in the evening’s dimness. There was something so comforting about him, and Dean thought that he would never really know how to tell him anything that he was thinking. Maybe short sentences. Cas tipped his head in contemplation. Maybe not. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”
They walked out into the storm and pushed through the calf high snow to the diner. It was warm inside. They made their way to a booth far from the door. The formica table top was flecked in gold and Dean began drumming his fingers on it nervously. A lone waitress strolled over and set down some menus. “I’ll be back to take your orders.”
Dean stopped her before she left. “We’ll just take three cheeseburgers, one to-go.”
“Oh, okay,” She said as she scooped the menus back up and wandered off to the kitchen. With her gone, the place was quiet and far more empty.
Cas reached across the table and set his hand on top of Dean’s. He looked up quickly at Cas, trying to figure out the look on his face and the reason behind the contact. “The drumming was maddening.”
“Oh, sorry.” Dean muttered out. He also noticed that Cas did not withdraw his hand even though he had made his point about the drumming.
“Does your irritation have anything to do with Sam?” Cas asked quietly.
Dean wondered how long he would be able to postpone the answer. He went with evasive. “Sam is irritating.”
“Are you irritated because he has formed opinions about our bond?”
Dean sucked in a sharp stab of air. What the Hell did Sam tell him? “Uh, I don’t know what you mean.”
Cas watched him and waited. Dean felt his hands growing warmer with the passing seconds. He looked away from Cas and out at the snowy, cold world. I could run away. I could go out there and never face him again. And as if Cas were reading his mind, he gave Dean’s hand a squeeze and said, “You don’t have to be afraid of talking with me about it.”
And because there were some things that Dean was afraid of he said, “I really don’t know what you mean.”
Cas’ hand slipped away. Dean felt a tremendous degree of regret. Cas looked like he had been let down in the worst possible way. Dean was about to reach out to him, but the waitress returned with their food, and Dean filled his mouth to keep from having to talk. Cas pushed the food around on his plate in a pantomime of interest.
When Dean had finished his food, Cas moved the empty plate to his side of the table and the full plate into Dean’s space. They locked their gazes on each other for a moment. Dean didn’t know why, but he said, “I’m sorry.”
Cas smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. “Eat your food, Dean.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You’re always hungry.”
Dean reached across the table and rested his hand on Cas’. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
Cas’ eyes fell on his hand then trailed slowly back up to Dean’s face. “So…” Cas was always concise, but this word although concise in its delivery carried with it a whole host of implications. Dean pondered them all.
In his best attempt at mimicry Dean said, “So…”
Cas smiled at him. It was sly, almost mischievous. “Sam won’t expect us to show up.” Dean let those words settle into his mind. The words filled the cold spaces. Cas turned his hand up under his own. He threaded his fingers with Dean’s.
“Will it change things?” Dean wondered aloud.
“Yes, but only in the best possible ways.” Cas got up and walked over to the counter. He asked the waitress for a to-go box and brought it back to the table along with the other order for Sam. While he waited and watched Cas, his cell phone buzzed. It was Sam. He had texted his room number.
Cas paid the bill and returned to him. “We good?” Dean asked as he got up.
“We are. Why don’t you go get a room, and I’ll drop off your brother’s food.” Dean showed him the text with the room number as they parted ways in front of the motel office. Are we doing this? He pushed into the office and got a room within mere minutes. He was sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he didn’t have to face Sam and his knowing everything smirk.
He felt warmth pass through him despite being in the middle of a snowy parking lot on the coldest winter night in, well, ever. He walked along the path that would take him to his room, keys jingling in his hand. He saw Cas up ahead as he came out of what must have been Sam’s room. He quietly slipped the door closed. And there it was again, warmth.
They came together and walked to the end of the row of rooms. When they entered the space, it was nothing special and everything special all at once. The beige paisley wallpaper and the hanging lamps from the nineteen seventies were more kitsch than tacky. The way Cas leaned against the far wall and waited for him to approach was endearing.
“You sure?” Dean whispered as he leaned in close, letting his chest rest against Cas’.
“I don’t know what you mean.” And was that Cas making a joke? His lip curled up into a lopsided grin.
“Really, Cas, really?” Dean settled his forehead against Cas’ before running his hand up Cas’ arm.
“Are you sure?” Cas’ words puffed out in a type of kiss before their lips actually came together.
Dean answered him with a press of lips. It was slow as if he had to ease out of his frozen state. Cas curled his hands around him. He felt his fingers press warmth into his back. He could feel Cas smile into the moment. He found himself smiling back. Cas tasted like the sun and the vacation that he had been longing for. His mind filled with beaches and the imagined scent of salt and surf. He parted from him for a moment and licked his lips tasting the lingering flavor of Cas still on him.
He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to share it with him, but he said, “I’m tired of being cold.” Dean hoped that Cas understood.
“Then don’t be. Let me be your warmth.” They fell into each other again, and it was indeed warm. And Dean felt himself forgetting what it was to be cold, as they shed their clothes. He was forgetting the crispness of snow and winter. Everything was summer. Everything was warm. Everything was just them. And Cas clung to him and gave him the warmth that he had always needed.