FIC: (SPN) Cold Hands, Warm Heart 1/1
Title: Cold Hands, Warm Heart ] By: wolfling Fandom: SPN Rating: PG Pairing: Sam/Dean Summary: Sam warms Dean up Author's Notes: So one of the fic exchanges I took part in this holiday season was the undermistletoe mystery schmoop challenge. This is what I came up with for that. The first vague ideas of this story(or at least what it was they were hunting) can be traced to a post isabeau made in her lj last December. Thanks to her for the inspiration and to kayteaenbee and onefishjyuufish for betaing. :)
Feedback of all kinds is gratefully appreciated.
Sam's voice penetrated the gray fog that Dean was drifting in, pulling him back from the peaceful nothingness into what he remembered was a bad situation, although the details were a little fuzzy at first. Stubbornly, he clung to the nothingness and gray fog, not wanting to wake up.
"Dean? Come on dude, don't do this." A hand shook him, but it was the fear in his brother's voice that pulled Dean back enough to open his eyes and blink blearily at Sam's face.
"There you are," Sam said, a relieved smile turning the corners of his mouth up. "How are you feeling?"
Dean frowned. It took some time to come up with an answer, and even longer to remember how to speak. "Cold," he finally said, which was something of an understatement. He was, in fact, freaking freezing. He didn't think he could feel any colder if he was actually made of ice.
Which, considering what they had been fighting, wasn't exactly out of the realm of possibility. Maybe he'd better check... "Sammy?"
"Yeah, Dean?" Sam asked, seeming to be intent on checking Dean's hands.
"I'm not... I didn't get turned into ice, did I?"
Sam chuckled, though the sound sounded strangely choked. "No Dean. You're not ice. Just really really cold."
"Okay," Dean said, accepting that. "Good."
Sam finished whatever he was doing with Dean's hands, and sat back and looked at his brother. "We gotta get you out of here and back to the cabin. Do you think you can walk?"
"'Course," Dean said. What kind of question was that? He moved to push himself into a sitting position, but his body didn't quite respond the way it was supposed to. Sam had to reach an arm around him to keep him from falling backwards. Okay, maybe it wasn't such a stupid question after all. "Might be slow going," he admitted.
"We'll manage," Sam told him, sounding stubborn, as he tugged at Dean.
Somehow, Dean found himself on his feet, though with very little memory of getting to them. Sammy probably hauled him up bodily he figured, especially since it was mostly Sam's arm around his torso that was keeping him upright. Dean suspected that if Sam let go, he'd slowly fall over like a tree being cut. The image struck him as funny and he giggled and muttered, "Timber!" under his breath.
Sam's grip around him tightened in response, as he took a step forward. Dean tried to move his feet with Sam, but they didn't really want to respond very well, so the best he could manage was an awkward forward shuffling movement that probably wouldn't have got him very far if Sam hadn't been practically dragging him along.
The trip seemed to take forever and more than once Dean was on the verge of asking Sam if they could take a break, or possibly a nap. He was just so tired and the cold didn't seem all that bad really. Certainly not enough to keep him awake. But the one time he did try to ask, he got as far as, "Sammy," when he really noticed his brother's expression. Whenever Sam got that particular stubborn tilt to his jaw, there was absolutely no arguing with him.
"What?" Sam asked in a voice made breathless by the exertion he was making in half carrying Dean.
"Nothing," Dean said, already changing his mind about asking to stop. Not with Sam looking like that.
Sam's arm tightened around him again. "It's not much further, Dean," he said as if Dean had asked for encouragement. "Just hang in there a little bit longer, okay?"
There wasn't much Dean could respond to that earnest plea with except for a nod of his head and a soft, "Okay." So no matter how cold and tired he felt during the rest of the journey, he just kept quiet and hung in there.
Still, Dean found his thoughts drifting back into that grey fog even as he kept moving at Sam's direction. So much so that when they finally made it back to the cabin, it took Dean a moment to realize why they had stopped. He watched dazedly as Sam struggled to unlock and open the cabin door one handed, his other arm still being used in keeping Dean on his feet.
Once the door was open, Sam hauled Dean inside and kicked the door shut behind him. Immediately he started stripping Dean's clothes off him, propping him up against the door to keep him upright.
Dean blinked owlishly at his brother. "'M flattered, really Sammy, but 'm not in the mood."
"We gotta get you out of these wet clothes and warmed up," Sam said, frowning a little as he fought with the zipper on Dean's jeans, then pushed the freezing wet denim down over Dean's hips. "Don't fall," he said, kneeling to undo and remove Dean's boots.
Dean leaned against the door and let himself be quickly and efficiently undressed. Being naked didn't really make any difference -- he was so cold and numb that he wasn't sure he even remembered what being warm felt like, so cold he wasn't even shivering any more. Some part of his mind knew that was bad, but really, at the moment, all he could concentrate on was doing what Sam asked and staying upright.
When Sam had finished stripping him, he moved far enough away to grab the comforter off the bed and wrap it around Dean, then helped him stumble over to a chair near the fire place. He got Dean settled in it and then built up a fire, quickly getting it to pour out waves of heat that Dean could feel through the cold numbness he was mired in. It felt strange, almost alien, like he'd been cold for so long it had become his body's natural state.
Clutching the comforter around himself, he watched through half closed eyes as Sam dragged the mattress off the bed and arranged it right in front of the fire. Then he started taking off his own clothes.
"Tol' you Sammy, 'm not in the mood," Dean mumbled as he watched Sam discard his clothes. It was a shame really because almost any other time the sight of a naked Sammy would definitely have him rising to the challenge, but at the moment it felt more like he had slush running through his veins than blood, and nothing was going to be rising anytime soon..
"Skin to skin contact is the best way to help warm you up," Sam explained patiently. Completely naked, he pulled Dean up out of the chair and helped him move to the mattress in front of the fire, bundling him up under all the blankets he could find, then sliding in behind him and wrapping long limbs around him.
Sam felt scorching, almost feverish to Dean's warmth starved body and he pushed back against him without conscious decision to do so. "Thought you didn't like me putting my cold feet against you," Dean murmured as he finally began to feel like it might be possible to be warm again.
"I don't," Sam replied, the words a warm puff of air against the back of Dean's neck. His arms tightened around Dean. "Special circumstances."
"Oh," Dean breathed. Still more foggy than he'd like, he lay there and watched the flames in the fireplace as the cold slowly, stubbornly relinquished its hold on him.
Warmth seeped in and his body belatedly remembered what it was supposed to be doing to battle the cold. "Crap," Dean complained through chattering teeth as shivers shook his body. "I hate this."
"It's a good sign," Sam told him, reaching to tuck the blankets more firmly around both of them.
"I'm shaking so much I could probably get a job as a vibrator," Dean grumbled as he tried to lay still.
Sam's snort of laughter was a warm and moist breath against the back of Dean's neck. "You must be feeling better if you're comparing yourself to a giant sex toy," he said.
"I feel like crap," Dean said honestly. "But it's better than not feeling anything."
"Yeah," Sam agreed softly, his arms tightening around Dean protectively.
Dean let his breath out in a soft sigh, pressing back against his brother more firmly. He could sense the fear Sam had been holding back for him, and wanted to reassure him, but Winchesters just didn't talk about that kind of thing. So instead he patted his brother's hand a little awkwardly and said, "Still not in the mood, Sammy."
That got another warm gust of laughter against the back of his neck. "Not everything's about sex, Dean."
"It's not?" Dean was trying for aghast, but it came out sounding more sleepy than anything.
He felt Sam drop a kiss on his bare shoulder. "Go to sleep, Dean. It should be safe now. We can argue about how the meaning of life isn't all about sex when you wake up."
That actually sounded like a really good plan to Dean, at least the sleeping bit. He'd decide about the sex argument part later. When his eyelids weren't so heavy...
The last thing he remembered as the shivers lessened and he drifted off was the warmth of the flames in front of him and the even warmer body behind him that left him with an unaccustomed feeling of being completely and utterly safe.
It was early the next morning when Dean woke up. He and Sam had both shifted positions in their sleep, leaving Sam on his back and Dean sprawled out on top of him. The fire in the fireplace had burnt down to glowing embers and the amount and position of the light slanting in through the windows told him it wasn't much past dawn.
The cold and the shivering from the night before were both distant memories. With Sam underneath him and the blankets piled on top of them, Dean was feeling quite toasty. In fact he was almost too hot now, and he pushed at the blankets, until they were bunched down around his waist.
That caused Sam to stir and open his eyes. "Dean?" he murmured in a sleep roughened voice, blinking drowsily down at his brother.
"Were you expecting to wake up naked in bed with someone else?" Dean asked, smirking and arching his eyebrows questioningly.
"Well you were doing a really good impression of a block of ice last night," Sam replied, running one hand lightly down Dean's back. "Figured it never hurts to check."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't really at my best last night." Dean frowned and gave his brother a look of mock outrage. "Wait, did you just call me a blockhead?"
Sam smirked, though his hand kept up its easy caress over Dean's skin. "Well, if the ice fits..."
Dean made a face. "Very funny," he said, but didn't make any move to pull away. "Bet you think you're a laugh riot."
"Hey, one of us has to be amusing," Sam shot back in kind, then in a quieter voice added, "So you're feeling okay?"
The soft question spoke volumes to Dean about how worried for him Sam had actually been. "Yeah," he replied, deliberately keeping his tone light. "I'm too hot blooded to freeze to death that easily." And then because he couldn't resist, he added, "You did good, Sammy."
Sam nodded once, sharply, his hand pausing in its skimming over Dean's back to curl possessively around his hip.
Dean listened to all the things Sam was saying with his touch that he'd never be able to sit still for Sam saying in words, then dropped a kiss to Sam's chest where he lay. As far as he was concerned that finished that particular conversation.
To make sure Sam didn't continue it with words that would just make both of them squirm, and not in a good way, he said, "So you took it down, huh?"
He felt Sam tense and shift under him, a physical echo of his mind shifting gears to the new conversation topic. "Yeah." There was just a touch of satisfaction in Sam's voice. "You were right. Burning the hat stopped him cold. So to speak."
"Told you," Dean said with a satisfied grin of his own. "It's right there in the song. The song's always right."
"Except for the jolly happy soul part," Sam pointed out.
"Oh, I don't know." Dean shifted into a more comfortable position, that had the side effect of sliding certain of his naked parts against certain of Sam's naked parts. "He seemed really happy when he was freezing people to death."
"I'm pretty sure that's not what they meant in the song, Dean."
"Still true though." Dean shifted again, a little bit more purposefully.
"What are you doing?"
Another shift, this one a long slide of their bodies together. "If I really have to tell you, I'm going to wonder if your brain got frozen."
"I thought you weren't in the mood," Sam said, but nonetheless, his hands had resumed their restless roaming over Dean's skin.
"That was last night. This is this morning." Dean moved again, drawing a sharp gasp of pleasure from Sam. "See the difference?"
Sam opened his mouth to answer, and Dean covered it with his own in a passionate kiss that had the conversation shifting to more physical forms of communication for a while.
Because sure, Dean would concede that Sammy was right and not everything was about sex, but sometimes it was about the sex, and sometimes the sex was about everything.