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The setting sun played hide and seek through the trees blurring by, multicolored streaks of light dancing across the windshield of the Impala. You rubbed your eyes as an especially bright beam flashed across your face and once the spots cleared, resumed watching the mile posts go by, listening to Slow Ride play softly on the radio. You paused suddenly when you read the next little green post. Wait a minute. That said 198. Just like the one you passed ten minutes ago. You glanced over at him. “Dean?”
“Yeah?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the wheel to the beat. “Are we lost?” His finger tapping stopped. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?” he answered with a sheepish grin. Just as you were about to answer, the engine sputtered. “Ah, don’t do this to me, baby,” Dean muttered. He’d been running on fumes the past ten miles, hoping to find his way out of this backcountry and find a gas station before he ran out. It looked like that wasn’t happening. The engine coughed once, twice then died, rolling slowly to a stop on the side of the two lane road.
Dean put the car into park and sighed. The two of you were exhausted, just finished up a case and looking forward to getting to a motel and collapsing. With the heat gone, the cold began creeping into the car, making your shirt feel very thin. Wrapping it tighter around yourself, you asked, “Do you have gas in the trunk?” Dean frowned. “No, it’s empty. I was going to fill it today.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and stared at the tiny screen. “And no signal,” he huffed. “We’re gonna have to sleep in here tonight. I’m sorry, Y/n.” You squeezed his arm gently and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. I’ve spent the night in a car before.”
The sun was nearly gone now. One last shaft of light hit Dean’s green eyes as he looked at you, making them sparkle as the sun disappeared under the horizon. “You want the front or the back?” he asked. Always the gentleman. You knew he wouldn’t be as uncomfortable in the front what with the steering wheel, but he was still giving you the choice. “You take the back. I’m smaller, I’ll be okay in the front.” Dean nodded, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “Well, let’s get some shut-eye. We’re gonna have to do a lot of walking in the morning.”
The car shook as Dean slid out and shut the door, shaking again when he sank onto the back seat with a contented groan. Pulling your legs up, you settled in as best you could, and curled your arm beneath your head for a pillow. An hour later, sleep continued to elude you. The leather squeaked despite your best efforts to be quiet as you turned onto your side, shivering at the cold seeping into your bones. You closed your eyes and listened to Dean’s even breathing.
“Are you cold?”
Your eyes snapped open again as Dean’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, startling you. You’d thought he was asleep. “A little,” you confessed. In reality you were pretty damn cold, you didn’t want him to feel bad. You heard a rustle of fabric then something soft as Dean gently laid his worn green shirt across your upper body. “But you’ll be cold,” you said softly, catching his wrist before he pulled away and pushed the shirt back into his hand. It was barely pushing thirty degrees outside and he would only be left in a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be alright,” he said gruffly. He tried to put the shirt back on you but you didn’t let him.
“You’re stubborn,” Dean said with a wry laugh. You saw him pull back and lay back down, his body a deep shadow in the dark. “Well, if you won’t take it then come here,” he said a moment later. “What?” you asked, not sure if you heard him right. “Come here,” he repeated. “You’d rather be cold than me, so come here and we’ll both be warm.” He patted the seat encouragingly. Sitting up, you looked over the back of the seat at him. A weak beam of moonlight was shining on his face, making his green eyes look like they were glowing. He bobbed his head to the side, silently saying come here once more.
Taking a quick breath, you slid over the seat and sat beside him awkwardly, increasingly aware that this was the closest you’d ever been to the handsome Winchester when you weren’t helping him walk when he was hurt or drunk. Well, if you were being perfectly honest, this was the closest you’d ever been to any guy.
Dean seemed to sense your nervousness, pressing himself to the back of the seat to give you more room until you worked up the courage to stretch out beside him and staying still until you relaxed. You shivered from more than the cold as he gently wrapped his shirt over the both of you, tucking his arm over your ribs and against your stomach. “Is that better?” he asked softly. The smell of lavender filled his senses as you nodded, tickling his nose with your hair. The heat caught in his shirt like a cocoon was making you relax, enough to let him hold you a little tighter, your back now lightly pressed against his chest. Your eyelids started to droop as sleep finally came to call.
Dean’s hand brushed yours as he brought his arm under your head for a pillow. “Y/n, your hands are freezing,” Dean murmured, capturing them between both of his. “Y/n?” he asked softly when you didn’t reply. He looked down. The moonlight streaming through the window was just strong enough for him to see that your eyes were closed, your face holding a peaceful expression. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you a little tighter, nestling his chin against your shoulder, just listening to your deep breathing in the darkness.
Maybe running out of gas wasn’t so bad after all.