Work Text:
“Oh, fucking hell”
Jack flinches as the blinding light assaults his eyes. He's pulled back the curtain to pure white, a blanket of snow smoothing everything over into gentle heaps. His blurry vision already doesn't let him see many details, but it looks like they got a lot. He can't make out where the street ends and the lawn begins at the very least.
“Turn that off.” Dean's muffled voice rings out behind him.
“‘s not even on.” He mumbles as he pulls them closed.
“How bad is it?” Dean asks as Jack shuffles back under the covers.
“Mmm, not awful.”
---
“You said it wasn't awful out!”
“Okay, that's not fair, I can't see without my glasses you know that!”
Dean throws his hands up as he steps into the kitchen. They've been snowed in. Completely. Like, can't get snow plows on the road snowed in. Sometime after they'd gone back to sleep the snow had picked up again he learns as the news plays. It seems like all the surrounding towns are the same. The news anchor’s mainly spouting bullshit warnings (“Don't go outside unless it's an emergency!” - Yeah, no shit?) and half realized timelines for when things should be getting cleared. He switches the channel, landing on some random Christmas-esque movie. In a surprising turn of events it's fairly warm in here, even without all the blankets piled. He still has them of course, but he figures he'd be fine if he didn't.
“Yeah, I know.”
The sound of Dean's murmuring voice catches his attention and he looks up to him rounding the corner into the living room. He's holding two mugs while his phone is tucked between his shoulder and ear. Jack looks at him quizzically, to which Dean mouths back ‘Mum’. He perks up and waves.
“Jack says hi, yes-” He pauses, “Yeah, he's here. What, do you think I'd just randomly say that?”
She's the only person, besides Marv, that knows. Jack's pretty sure she figured it out as soon as they'd made up that day in Marv's office, like she could sniff out the change in the air. When they'd actually told her, with little story to tell and even less of an explanation, she'd smiled at them. Said that it didn't matter to her as long as they'd figured it out “even if it took you boys too long.” He doesn't feel like they've ‘figured out’ anything, but the part of him that he expects to wince at that doesn't, so he guesses that stands for something.
“Alright, call me when they clear your street, yeah? Love you, too.” Dean looks over at him expectantly after he throws his phone into the abyss of the couch.
“What?”
“C’mon, it’s snowing out and we’re trapped inside...” He trails off, tilting his head. “‘S proper romantic.”
The corners of his mouth fight hard to pull into a grin while he rolls his eyes. It’s like his heart is going to pour right out of his chest with how warm he feels. Despite his protests, he’s happy to revel in this now. The uncertainty isn’t as daunting when he can look in the mirror, see the crow’s feet around his eyes and know Dean will always have a place in his life.
“You are so unsubtle.” Jack pulls him in gently by the sleeve.
Dean cups his face, “You’re one to talk.”
His remarkable response of ‘Shut up’ is lost when Dean kisses him. But he probably knew Jack was going to say that anyway.
---
“Where the hell have you been?” Lottie's voice crackles loudly.
He winces, pulling the phone away, “Jesus, it's way too early for that.”
“Is it? It's nearly noon, Jack.”
“Shit, really?”
It is, the clock on the bedside table blinks back at him. Hm, he almost thought it'd be later. It'd taken him a while to make it back upstairs to their room only to find his phone full of missed calls and texts. He’d panicked, pressing call back on which ever notification he saw first.
“Besides the point. Where are you? Did you get stuck in a ditch somewhere?” Lottie presses.
“No,” he responds petulantly, “I'm just. Out. Why does it matter?”
“I know you aren't that much of an idiot.” She sounds flabbergasted.
“I mean I'm here, responding to you, obviously not dead. Isn't that all you need to know?”
“I just don't understand why you won't tell your dear, worried sister where you are.” Jack can hear the mocking pout she's pulling.
“Lottie, it really isn't-”
“Oh my god,” Her tone switches, suddenly much brighter, “Are you seeing someone?”
There's a maniacal gleefulness in her voice, the same kind that she'd had when she thought Emma was pregnant. Jack feels like someone's punched him in the gut, he leans heavily against the side table.
“Can we not talk about this now?” He hisses.
“So you are! Oh, mum and dad are going to love this.”
“Lottie!”
“What! They'll be so excited, c'mon you have to tell them.” She laughs.
He hasn't been avoiding it, not really. Why is it any of their business, though? There's still a part of him that blames them, like shielding Dean from them will stop them from ever having issues again. It's stupid. But they're already working through all these new things and adding Jack's family on top of that feels like it would break it again. It's not like they'd be happy about it anyway, God, imagine his dad's face finding out that he's not only been hanging out with Dean again but sleeping with him.
“I’m not joking, look,” He hates that every time he talks to her he comes away from it feeling worse, “I don’t want to do this right now. Can you please not ruin my day for once. I’ll be back tonight or tomorrow, or. Whenever.”
“Oh.” All her pompous attitude gone. “Well. Alright then. See you later.”
“Lottie, I didn’t mean-” The call ends.
Shit.
The table has become his main source of support in this. Dean’s appeared sometime in the last few minutes, silently placing a hand on Jack’s back. Guilt brews in his chest, he wishes he hadn’t answered her call. It’s not like he couldn’t have guessed how it was going to end. Instead, now he’s made everything feel uncomfortable and weird, ruining an otherwise perfectly lovely day.
“She was being a dick, you know that, right?” Dean’s voice startles him.
“Yes, I know that. Doesn’t mean I meant to snap at her.”
Dean shrugs, “She’ll get over it.”
“That’s not the point.” Jack sighs, he feels a twinge of irritation pull at him.
Silence falls over them, Dean’s taken to tracing small circles with his thumb. Jack imagines the annoyance shrinking until it's so small that he can crush it under his thumb. It doesn’t help, but he feels better for trying.
“Let’s go watch a movie?”
---
Cozy, twinkling lights reflect in the screen of the TV. It makes it kinda hard to figure out what's going on sometimes, but getting up sounds like hell. They've been left up from Christmas, not yet joining the growing collection of boxes shoved in the closet.
Jack shifts his arm around Dean's waist, sending pins and needles up his fingers. He's already asleep, had done so not even 15 minutes into whatever made for TV movie they'd landed on. He leans his head on Deans, letting himself focus on the movie.