@bunnymcbunnister requested Cas using his coat as a blanket for Dean. Here you go darling, hope that I did your idea justice!
Dean shivers as he clutches his coat closer to his body. The breeze, which had been pleasant in the sixty-five degree afternoon, has turned into something with teeth here in the darkness of the forest. He and Cas are huddled up against the base of some old, giant oak, one of the biggest offerings that the paltry scrap of woods outside the town has to offer. Theyāve been out here waiting for at least thirty minutes with no end in sight, and Deanās body is starting to feel the strain of the ten hour drive to get here.Ā
āYou donāt have to stay here,ā Cas says, stupidly unbothered by the cold as always.Ā āWe all agreed that it was more likely that the satyr would return to the club. You could go there and give Sam some back-up.āĀ
āNo, because all weāre going to be able to do at the club is chase him away from any victims. In order to kill him, weāre going to have to corner him here.āĀ
He doesnāt mention that Cas could single-handedly take care of a satyr by himself or that heās long since lost the feeling in the tips of his fingers. Or that, despite the cold, his eyelids are feeling heavier than ever.Ā
āSo Iām staying.ā Deanās eyebrow lifts, daring Cas to contradict him.Ā
āSuit yourself,ā is all that Cas says, which. Dean wasnāt exactly angling for a fight, but bland compliance isnāt really what he was aiming for either.Ā
āYouā¦suit yourself.āĀ
Cas doesnāt even deign to respond to that. He just settles further against the tree, with the patience of an eternal being who doesnāt get bothered by paltry concerns such as exhaustion or hypothermia. Dean, who is just a mere mortal and who does get bothered by those paltry concerns, also shifts.Ā
Casā arm is a brand of heat against his arm and Dean tries to curl into that warmth without being too obvious about it. He and Cas arenāt official, not yet anyway. They havenāt exchanged rings or given each other any flowery declarations of love or sung any dramatic duets yet, but. Theyāre the kind of not official thatās official, in that Dean recoils from the thought of anyone else, in that Cas hangs around the bunker even when thereās not a case, in that Dean chose to be out here in the forest with him instead of the club where he could at least con his way into free drinks.Ā
And whatās a tree root digging persistently into his ass compared to that?Ā
Deanās jaw aches from stifling his yawns, but heāll be damned if he gives Cas the satisfaction. Not that Cas would gloat. No, Cas would do something stupid and nice like insist that he go back to the hotel. Once the suggestion was in his head, heād plant his heels in the stubbornly angelic way that he has, the one that reminds Dean that heās dealing with a being that had enough patience to watch continental drift.Ā
So yawning isnāt an option. But it becomes an undeniable reality as the time drags out and their satyr continues to be a no-show.Ā
āPerhaps we should give up for the night,ā Cas suggests, either a few minutes or a few hours later.Ā āIām not sure that our satyr is going to return here tonight.āĀ
Dean hears his words through a haze, like theyāre standing at opposite ends of a tunnel. He grunts, hopes that it sounds disagreeable. They canāt afford to give up for the night. This asshole is targeting single women, hunting them down as they leave clubs. Thereās no way that this bastard sees another sunrise, not if Dean Winchester has anything to say about it.Ā
But Cas is so damn warm. And what could it really hurt, closing his eyes for a few minutes as his head drops down to Casā shoulder?Ā
Thatās the first thing that struggles to Deanās consciousness, is the fact that heās cozy warm, from his fingers down to the tip of his nose. Itās the kind of warm that makes him want to wriggle around, just to revel in the feeling. Languid delight races up his spine and a lazy smile graces his face.Ā
The second thing that rises in Deanās slowly sharpening consciousness is the lack of discomfort in his body. Years of hunting and hard living have ensured that some part of his body hurts almost all the timeāfrom the three fingers that never healed exactly right to his trick knee that twinges whenever itās going to rain, to that weird space between his shouldersāsome part of him always feels the job or his age. But not now. Now, heās just lazy and heavy, aware of his body but without the pains.Ā
The darkness of the forest surrounds him, dim and dark. Starlight just barely filters in through the trees and itās only years of experience peering through almost pitch blackness that leave Dean able to see anything. He would worry exceptā¦
His stumbling brain finally catches up to reality as he realizes exactly what his fingers are curled around. The fabric of Casā coat is softer than he always imagined, worn thin and soft through years of use. Itās thicker than he always thought, enough to provide him with a snug little bubble of warmth in the middle of the forest. When Dean ducks his head down, he can scent the particular mixture that he always associates with Casāthe petrichor mixing with the sharp, salt tang of the ocean, so unlike anything that heās ever smelled in his life spent in the heartland.Ā
His cheek is resting against something soft and unyielding. It only takes Dean a second longer than it should to figure out that itās Casā thigh, and the heavy weight on his shoulder is Casā hand.Ā
He blinks, flicks his eyes up, as he pulls Casā coat in closer around himself. Cas doesnāt look down at him, but judging from the tiny smile gracing his face, heās aware of Deanās return to wakefulness.
Itās only after heās had a few seconds to stare at Cas that Dean notices the thin trickle of blood tracing down from underneath his hairline.Ā
āSatyr finally show?ā he guesses. His voice comes out as a rough rumble that sounds more pissed than he is.Ā
Luckily, Cas reads the tone beneath his voice. He tips his head to the side, a playful little glint shining in his eyes.Ā
āAbout forty-five minutes ago,ā he answers. His thumb strokes over Deanās shoulder. Through the fabric of the coat itās barely noticeable, but Dean can hear the rasp of skin and if he tries hard enough, he can imagine that pressure.Ā
āAnd Iām just now finding out about this because?ā He doesnāt have to fake the petulant tone in his voice, though he does play it up a little. Itās so rare that he gets to tease Cas; heāll relish every opportunity he gets.Ā
āYou looked so peaceful,ā Cas answers. Thereās something secret and pleased in his eyes, something soft that lives right at the very heart of him, and that Cas so rarely gets to display.Ā
Maybe if Sam were here, then Dean would feel the familiar prickling of shame and the desperate need to deflect. As it is, with only the stars to witness them, he snuggles in deeper into the pocket of comfort which the coat provides.Ā
āYou did,ā Cas confirms. His eyes linger on where Deanās chin is tucked into the collar of the coat and where his fingers pull it closer to his body.Ā āIt seemed rude to wake you.āĀ
āAnd so you let me sleep through a whole ass fight.ā Dean sighs, but he wouldnāt trade this feeling for anything, not even getting his ass kicked by a rogue satyr.Ā
Cas doesnāt answer him, though his fingers do grip at Deanās shoulder through the coat. Which, now that he thinks about it, is an answer.Ā
āNow that the fightās over, we should probably go back to the hotel,ā Cas finally says, tilting his head up to look at the narrow window of stars visible through the canopy above.Ā
āYeah.ā Dean can already feel a yawn pulling at his jaw. This time, he doesnāt fight it.Ā āWe probably should.āĀ
He wriggles around, before he tugs the coat up close to his face. He tucks his nose into the collar and breathes in the scent of Cas. Dean feels his muscles relaxing further, the tension of the car ride and the wait seeping out as he surrounds himself with nothing but Cas Cas Cas.Ā
They can afford to stay for a few more minutes.Ā
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