Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey guys, welcome to glacier hiking!”

Castiel cranes his neck, trying to look past the people in front of him to see the tour guide.

“The weather is great today, so this will be a real nice walk, and remember to put on sunscreen, everyone.”

The tour guide turns to the other side of the group and Castiel loses sight of him. Not that it matters, his voice carries all the way to the back of the group anyway.  

“As usual, I’ll be going through the gear and safety precautions, so it’s important to listen carefully. Don’t want to drag any of you up from the glacier.”

People around Castiel laugh. He doesn’t find it funny at all. In fact, he is so scared he could probably pee his pants if someone so much as came up behind him. 

When he first signed up for the tour, it had seemed safe and not that difficult. Now that he’s looking down at the helmet and ice cleats beside his feet, long spikes glistening against the rocky mountain, the harness in his hand feels heavier and heavier, and the sight of all the rope everywhere is making him dizzy. His fist tightens over the soft material of the harness and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Hey man, you okay?”

A hand touches his shoulder and Castiel flinches. A man from the group smiles softly at him, his harness already on around his waist and legs. In front of him, Castiel hears the tour guide demonstrate how to fasten the clips and adjust the tightness. 

“Yes, thanks,” Castiel breathes out. Seeing everyone else already with their harnesses on, he brings the harness in front of him, putting his left foot into it. 

“It’s the other way around,” the man says lowly. “The carabiner in the front.” He points at the carabiner hook that’s fastened on the waistband of the harness. 

Castiel steps out of the harness and turns it, the carabiner away from his body.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling embarrassed. 

He steps into the harness, dragging it up and fastening the waistband over his jacket. 

“Everything okay here?” 

A blond man, the tour guide Castiel recalls, looks at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. His green eyes are kind, glowing slightly in the morning sun. Castiel can’t remember what he introduced himself as.

Castiel clears his throat and looks around. Everyone else is ready with the rope tied to their harnesses. 

“Yes,” he manages to get out before the guide crouches in front of him, tightening the straps around his thighs.

“These need to be a little tighter so they’ll catch you if you fall,” he explains, his hands warm where he holds the harness around Castiel’s leg. “There, all good.”

He smiles up at Castiel before standing up and Castiel finds himself too nervous to smile back.

“Put on your ice cleats and then I’ll come back to fasten the rope,” the guide says, a soft hand on his arm and a wink before he’s onto the next person, fastening her rope. 

Castiel can only watch as the tour guide screws open the carabiner and hooks on the rope with fast and experienced hands. The guide pulls it a couple of times to check that it's fastened correctly and then begins on the next person. One of them says something funny that Castiel can’t hear and the guide chuckles, deep and warm.

The scrape of metal against the mountain brings Castiel out of his daze and he crouches down to put on his cleats. He steps onto the first one, shaky fingers working the straps over his foot. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

Castiel looks up. The guide is back again, standing tall with the sun glowing behind him. He has his hands on his hips, the rope hanging from one of them.

“Yes.”

The guide only quirks an eyebrow.

Cas sighs. “I’m a bit nervous.”

“First time?” the guide asks as he crouches down in front of Castiel, touching his left hand slightly and pointing to the loop on the side. “In through here.”

“Thanks. And yes,” Castiel says as he brings the strap across his foot and into the loop. “First time.”

“It’s very safe here. Wouldn’t let you out on the glacier if it wasn’t,” the guide smiles, guiding Castiel’s hand through the next loop. “And if anything happens, I’m right behind you.”

Castiel feels a blush creep over his cheekbones and he looks away. He finishes fastening the straps and gets up. 

“Helmet,” the tour guide reminds, picking it up and handing it to Castiel. 

Castiel takes it, muttering a thanks before putting it on his head over his beanie. 

The guide unscrews the carabiner, pulling Castiel slightly forward when he fastens the rope. His breaths fogs in the space between them.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” he says, pulling the rope a few times. “In case you need anything.”

And with a wink, he moves back in front of the group.

“All ready here, Jo!” the guide, Dean, yells over his shoulder, fastening his own rope. 

A blonde woman around Dean’s age raises her hand, giving Dean a thumbs up. 

She gives some instructions to the other side of the group and they start moving onto the glacier. 

As the line of people gets longer on the glacier, Castiel feels his heart beat louder and louder in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He should’ve stayed in the city where everything has its place and order and he can count on everyone following the rules. 

Here, everything is uncertain. He looks as the line stretches out over the white snow, colorful jackets and helmets moving up on the glacier, rope swinging between them. He has no control over the ice and snow; one wrong step and he would be lost inside the dark blue ice. How far down would he fall? Probably a thousand feet down. Would he even survive that? 

A soft touch to his shoulder brings Castiel out of his thoughts. “You good?” 

Castiel turns around to see Dean looking at him worriedly. His eyes scan Dean’s face; he’s unable to say a word as he tries to catch his breath.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Dean says, moving in front of Castiel and placing his other hand on Castiel’s other shoulder. “Breathe with me.”

Castiel glances over Dean’s shoulder, looking at the other people on the glacier. Dean ducks his head down, trying to catch his eyes.

“Hey,” he smiles gently as Castiel focuses on him. His eyes are very green in the warm sun. “Breathe in.”

Castiel takes a deep breath, feeling it fill his lungs and stomach. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the air in his chest. When he feels Dean breathe out, he does the same.

“If you fall into the glacier, it won't be more than a few feet, the rope will catch you and we will drag you up,” Dean says, thumbs rubbing circles on Castiel’s shoulders. “Jo is very experienced, she knows where we can go and not, and I’m right behind you.”

Castiel takes another breath. He’s suddenly aware of how cold it really is, the tip of his nose stiff and his fingers getting numb inside his gloves. With another shaky breath, he exhales, a small chill running through his body. Dean starts rubbing his gloved hands up and down Castiel’s arms. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m right behind you,” Dean repeats. “And if you do fall, it’ll be a hell of a cool story to tell later on.” 

Castiel laughs nervously, not really feeling better but there is no way back now. The people in front of him start to move and walk up onto the snow, the crunch of it awfully loud in the silent morning. 

Dean winks and, with a clap on Castiel’s shoulder, he slides his hand around to his back, gently guiding Castiel forward. 

Castiel casts a quick look over his shoulder at Dean. Dean only flashes him a smile and it makes Castiel’s stomach calm down a bit. 

In a few steps, he hears the loud sound of snow under his feet and, with one deep breath, he continues out onto the glacier, the rope stretching out in front and behind him. 

With the rope hanging between them, there’s really no way to speak to each other, so they all walk in silence. The sounds of snow and ice are the only ones out here, and the small gusts of wind are barely noticeable in the sun that quickly reaches the top of the cloudless sky.

Castiel understands why Dean had recommended sunscreen, but he hadn’t realized it was necessary on the mountains, so he didn’t bring any. His cheeks are probably already red but a sunburn is the least of his concerns. 

In front of them, miles upon miles of snow and ice stretch out, big rifts that don’t look too dangerous when you look at them from a distance, but the one beside Castiel says something else. The ice in it is blue and dark and Castiel can’t see the bottom. It is all pitch black down there. A shiver runs down his spine, and he sets his eyes on the ice in front of him, concentrating on where he's stepping. 

Castiel looks back every now and then, and every time, he finds Dean meeting his eyes and giving him a small encouraging smile. Every time he feels his body calm down a bit. 

Focusing on where he walks has the disadvantage of not letting him mentally prepare himself for the rift that suddenly appears before him. The woman in front of him has already jumped over it, continuing to walk slowly after the others. 

“It’s a small jump, you can do it,” Dean says behind Castiel.

Castiel turns around to look at Dean where he stands some feet behind him. 

“Keep your balance forwards, it’s better if you fall on your hands and knees than backwards,” Dean continues. He gives Castiel a cheeky smile as if it’s the easiest thing ever.

Castiel only stares at him. 

“Come on, you can do it.”

The flutter in Castiel’s stomach definitely doesn't calm down as he slowly walks to the edge of the rift. He takes a deep breath, slowly letting it fill his lungs. He can do it. And if not, Dean's right behind him. 

As he lets out the breath, he braces himself and takes the leap over the rift. In the blink of an eye, he feels the spiky cleats catch in the ice under his foot. Castiel places the other foot in the front to try to regain his balance, but he still falls down on his knees. He quickly gets up, stable on two feet planted nicely into the ice. Behind him, a small cheer erupts. He turns around to see Dean grin at him with a hand in the air. 

Castiel smiles back before he continues walking. When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Dean jump over the rift gracefully. Dean catches his eyes and gives him a wink. Castiel feels his face heat up and looks up at the sky. The sun sure is strong today. 

Castiel has no idea how long they've walked when they stop. Out here, time stands still, nothing moving except them. 

Dean and Jo unhook the ropes and everyone is allowed to walk freely throughout the designated safe area. Castiel decides to stay close to the tour guides, not feeling as safe without the rope. 

He takes out his small sitting pad and sits down to eat his lunch. The bread seems to have kept itself pretty fresh in the cold temperature and the water in his bottle is freezing cold. Castiel takes several big gulps, not realizing how thirsty he really is. 

“You mind?” 

Castiel looks up from where heʼs sitting. Dean stands beside him, his backpack thrown over one shoulder. 

Castiel gestures to the spot beside him, continuing to chew. 

Dean puts his backpack down, takes out his own sitting pad and sits down. He takes out his lunch, one slice of bread in hand. 

“What do you think so far?” he asks and then takes a bite of the bread.

“It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Dean leans forward to try to catch Castiel’s eyes. “I was hoping you were gonna find it more beautiful than that.”

“It is very beautiful here,” Castiel says, meeting Dean’s eyes.

Dean only hums and doesn’t say anything else the rest of the break. Castiel doesn’t mind; he likes the silence. Makes it easier to focus on the long white landscape that expands all around them. 

Dean doesn’t seem to mind either. He looks at the small snowy peak to their right, turning his face upwards to let the sun cast a warm glow over it. Occasionally Castiel catches him watching the hikers, making sure they stay in the safe area. 

Castiel finishes his lunch before they’re ready to leave. He watches Dean closing his eyes and soaking in the sun. 

“Close your eyes, man,” Dean hums without opening his own.

Castiel turns his head straight ahead, embarrassed about being caught looking at Dean.

“Relax,” Dean goes on, “just close your eyes.”

Castiel glances over at Dean, who still has his eyes closed. His legs are stretched out in front of him and he’s leaning back on his hands. Castiel mirrors the pose and lets his head fall back, up towards the sun. He closes his eyes.

“Listen,” Dean whispers. 

Castiel doesn’t know what he's listening for, but he complies. He only hears the small talk between the other hikers and the gust of occasional wind. After a minute, he hears the familiar crunch of the ice beside him and he opens his eyes. 

“Time to head back.”

Dean reaches out a hand and helps Castiel up before he walks back to where Jo was sitting. 

Castiel watches them hook the rope onto the hikers again. Jo hooks on Castiel’s and he mutters a small thank you before she goes on to the next person. 

The trek back to land isn’t as hard as the one before lunch, the water bottle in his backpack less full than when he started. The path is familiar, and when they get to the rift, Castiel jumps over it with a much lighter heart but still falling down on his knees, pushing up from the ground with one hand. He looks back past the three strangers behind him, where he sees Dean jump easily over the rift, just like the first time. 

Castiel sees Dean adjusting his helmet, keeping his eyes on the ground. As Castiel is about to turn his head forward again, Dean looks up and catches Castiel’s eyes from several feet away. Castiel sharply turns his head, just catching the beginning of a smile on Dean’s lips. 

He trudges slowly after the person in front of him, placing his own feet in the footprints that have already been made. Shaking his head, he focuses on the hike. That doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, though. 

Chapter Text

Castiel stands to the left of Dean as he welcomes everybody to the hike. The sun isn’t as bright today as yesterday so most of the hikers are wearing their jackets, zippers all the way up to their chins. Dean is the only one without a jacket, instead wearing a white knitted sweater with black squared dots. The sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, his arm hair looking golden right before the sun fades away behind a cloud. 

“I hope you’re all ready, with lunch packed and sunscreen applied,” Dean says, smiling at the crowd. “Before we walk, I’ll be going over the safety instructions, and it’s really important that everyone listens carefully!”

Castiel sees Dean pick up the harness from the ground, holding it high and showing everyone how it works. Castiel listens half-heartedly as he steps into his own harness, already knowing how it works. 

Dean explains how the ropes catch them and the distance they should have between each person when they walk on the glacier. After finishing with the safety precautions, everyone starts putting on their harness, Dean and Jo walking around and helping those who need it. 

“Excuse me?”

Castiel turns to his right, seeing a young blonde woman holding her harness in her hands. 

“Was this the right way?” she asks, holding it up the wrong way.

“No, you need to turn it. The carabiner is going to the front.” 

“Thanks,” she says, turns the harness around and steps into it. “Have you done this before?”

“I was here yesterday too,” Castiel smiles politely.

“It’s my first time, and I’m almost beginning to regret it.”

Castiel chuckles softly, thinking back on how he was yesterday. 

“Just remember to breathe and you’ll be fine. It’ll be worth it.”

The woman thanks him but doesn’t seem less nervous as she walks over to Jo, who fastens her rope. 

Castiel looks over the glacier, still feeling the nervous flutter in his stomach he felt yesterday, but it’s more like butterflies now instead of stones. 

The sun is back for a moment, and Cas closes his eyes and soaks it in before it passes behind a cloud again.

“Back for my pretty face?” a familiar voice says. 

Castiel opens his eyes, catching sight of Dean in front of him. Dean grips the carabiner to unscrew it, pulling Castiel a step forward. 

“For the glacier, actually,” Castiel says matter of factly.

Dean hums and smiles as he hooks on the rope and screws the carabiner shut, giving the rope a small pull. 

“You have sunscreen?” Dean asks, eyes running over Castiel’s face. 

“Ehm, no,” Castiel answers, aware of the pink tint across his nose and cheeks from yesterday.

“Here.” 

Dean pulls out a small bottle from the pocket on his thigh, unscrewing it. He takes Castiel’s hand and squeezes out a small amount on Castiel’s fingers. 

“Don’t forget the ears and neck too,” he says as he screws the cap back on. “Did you know there’s a higher chance of cancer if you get a sunburn on an already existing sunburn?”

Castiel looks at Dean with wide eyes as he smooths his hands over his cheek, the sunscreen sticky under his fingers.

 “And you’re all set,” Dean says and claps Castiel on his shoulder, then walks back to Jo, who stands in front of the group. They talk for a minute before Dean walks back to Castiel again and fastens himself behind him.

When Castiel gets to the edge of the glacier, he doesnʼt hesitate to step onto it, the nervousness he felt yesterday only a dull ache today. 

The walk is easier today and Castiel realizes how much of it he had missed yesterday by focusing so hard on the path. All around him, the ice is glittering in patches where the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

As they walk up the glacier, the tip of a mountain grows up from the horizon, the snow looking gray in the shadow from the clouds. 

When they reach the rift Castiel had stopped by yesterday, he jumps over before Dean can say anything. He falls forward again, one knee hitting the snow, but he quickly regains his balance. He hears a “nice” from the back and throws a small smile over his shoulder. 

The next day he jumps over the rift, his knees donʼt touch the ground. He regains his balance with a small push up from his hand on the ground. Dean doesnʼt say anything but when Castiel looks over his shoulder, he clearly smiles at him. 

The fourth time, Castiel manages to jump over without losing his balance at all. He continues the walk, admiring the glittering snow. It doesn’t sparkle in the same way as the other days, but it still is just as beautiful. Again, the tip of the mountain in the horizon peeks up in front of him. Today, Castiel can see small black dots, humans, walking up there on the snow.

It doesn’t take long until they reach their lunch spot and Dean and Jo unfasten everyone. Castiel finds himself a spot and sits down, face towards the sun. He takes off his helmet and beanie before he closes his eyes for a second to enjoy the warmth from the sun. 

After a minute, he reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small tube of sunscreen. He puts some on his fingers, dragging them across his cheeks and then forehead, chin and lastly ears, keeping his eyes closed all the while. 

Sunscreen still in his hand, he leans his arms on his lifted knees, resting his chin on them. 

“You sure you’re not here for my pretty face?” 

Castiel opens one eye and looks up at Dean where he towers over him, smirking. 

“Yes, I am very sure,” Castiel shoots back, a small smile forming on his lips.

Dean only hums and gestures to the spot beside Castiel. Castiel nods; Dean unfolds his sitting mat and sits down.

Their arms almost touch, the wool on Dean’s sweater rustling against Castiel’s jacket. 

Castiel watches through almost closed eyes as Dean stretches his legs in front of him, arms behind him in the snow, no gloves on. Dean leans his head back, the sun kissing the tips of his blond eyelashes. 

“Like what you see?” Dean teases.

Castiel feels a blush creeping up on his already warm face. He doesn’t say anything, just turns his head to the sky again.

“Why do you keep coming here?” 

When Castiel opens his eyes, he immediately meets Dean’s. The sun really brings out the green in them.

“I just moved here,” Castiel answers. 

Dean rips his eyes away from Castiel’s stare and focuses on the snowball he’s making in his hand. His hand is pink and white from the cold, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. 

“But why do you keep coming here ?” 

Dean raises his head and meets Castiel’s eyes again. 

Castiel doesn’t know where to start, what to say. He can’t just spill his entire life, his parents, his job, his marriage, everything he ran away from to this random stranger here, out in the middle of nowhere. 

Instead he opts for, “I don’t know.”

Dean keeps his eyes on Castiel, and Castiel can feel the tension between them, aware that Dean is seeing right through him. 

The tension breaks when Dean crushes the snow ball against the ice on the ground. It splats against the side of Dean’s leg and he brushes his hand over his pants, leaving wet streaks in the dark blue fabric. 

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean’s hands as he folds them in his lap, the warm one covering his cold left one. 

“It’s a nice town,” Dean starts, changing the subject. “Not much happens around here, but it’s a nice town.”

“I like it here,” Castiel says, looking out over the horizon, over the ice, the mountain far, far away, the blue sky. The snow crackles softly underneath Dean as he turns his head. 

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he repeats. 

They fall quiet, the scrape of Dean’s ice cleat against the snow sounding too loud in the silence. 

Dean checks his watch just as Jo yells out about going back. He stands up and folds his sitting mat. From where he stands, he blocks the sun on half of Castiel’s face, making it almost impossible for Castiel to see Dean’s face in the shadow. 

“They have a mean IPA at the lodge halfway down the mountain here,” Dean says, the sitting mat falling open as he turns it around in his hands. “Wanna grab a beer after we’re done with the hike?”

Castiel tries to make out the expression on Dean’s face. As Dean takes a breath to say something more, Castiel nods and stands up.

“Yes, that would be nice.” 

Castiel smiles, folds his own sitting mat and walks back to the group. After a few steps, he hears Dean following. 

Jo is the one that fastens Castiel’s rope when they get back to the group. She does it exactly like Dean: unscrews the carabiner, hooks on the rope, screws the carabiner shut and pulls the rope a couple of times before telling him he’s all set. 

On the walk back, Dean leads the group all the way in the front with Jo behind Castiel. 

The sky has clouded over and the ice looks light gray. But Castiel has his thoughts elsewhere. 

He can make out the white wool sweater Dean’s wearing all the way in the front, his helmet standing out as the only green one. He jumps over the rift and Castiel sees him turn around to talk to the person behind him, giving them a grin and thumbs up before he starts walking again. Castiel misses having Dean behind him, always ready to pull up a smile whenever he turns around. 

When Dean asked him about grabbing a beer later, Castiel had been surprised. He guessed it isn’t normal for the tour guides to take the hikers out for a beer after a hike, but maybe Dean does it? He seems charming to everyone, not just Castiel. And Castiel's certainly not here for Dean’s “pretty face”. 

The sun hides behind a soft cloud, making Castiel squint to see better. Getting over the rift goes just as smoothly as on the way on to the glacier, and the closer they get to the lodge, the more jittery Castiel feels. 

Dean is probably just being kind, helping him into the community. Castiel's noticed how tight-knit they are here, the two hundred something people that live in the town. As a newcomer, Castiel sticks out like a sore thumb. He didn’t expect to just sail in and fit into the community perfectly, but it certainly is lonelier out here than it was in the city. But he needed to get out. 

Castiel takes the last steps on the glacier and then onto the rock mountain. Dean has already unhooked most of the hikers and they are all packing their gear to carry back down the mountain. 

Dean comes over to Castiel, unhooks him, then goes and packs together his own gear. He helps a young woman with securing her harness onto her backpack, and Castiel watches absent-mindedly as his fingers slow over the clips of his own backpack. 

“All good?” Jo comes up beside him.

“Yes, thank you.”

Castiel clips the helmet onto his backpack and swings it around and on. The whole group starts walking down the mountain, the path familiar under Castiel’s feet. They’re still so far up on the mountain that there’s not a tree in sight, the sparkling ice replaced with gray rocks. Every now and then, a rock has a streak of red paint on it, showing the path all the way down the mountain. Soon, patches of green moss cover some of the rocks, bringing back the color to the surroundings. 

After a steep climb down the side of the mountain, Castiel sees Dean in front of him. He’s stepping to the side of the path, letting the other hikers walk past. 

“I’m taking this one to grab a beer,” Dean says when Castiel and Jo reach him. Dean claps a hand on Castielʼs shoulder but lets it fall quickly. Jo doesnʼt slow down, continuing down the path after a nod in their direction. 

“Donʼt do anything I wouldnʼt do,” she calls over her shoulder. 

“Well, then this is going to get crazy,” Dean snickers to Castiel. 

Castiel looks to the ground and smiles. 

Dean claps his shoulder again but this time he lets it linger and turns Castiel towards the other path going around the side of the mountain. 

Dean leads the way, Castiel following close after. 

They walk in silence along the mountain, the path going slightly downhill and the colors slowly coming back. Castiel reaches out a hand to touch the mountain wall beside him, fingers grazing the moist moss and purple flowers. In front of him, Deanʼs harness rustles with his heavy steps, the metal hooks beating against each other. The helmet bumps against his backpack, and Castiel matches his tempo with the helmetʼs bumping. 

Sometimes Dean will look over his shoulder as if to check if Castiel is still behind him. Castiel only gives him a small smile. Every time Dean meets his eyes, he blushes and turns his head back quickly, almost embarrassed to be caught. Castiel wonders why. 

When they reach the end of the path and it takes a u-turn down the side of the mountain, Dean turns around and looks at Castiel. 

“How much hiking experience do you have?” 

Castiel blinks at Dean, not sure why he's asking now. 

“These four hikes,” Castiel answers. 

“Thes—” Dean looks down the path muttering. “I should've asked before I brought you here.” He turns back to Castiel. “Okay, so just keep close to the wall, hold the rope and watch where you step,” Dean says. “I'll help you down the steepest parts, and it'll be okay.” 

Castiel can feel his breath catch in his throat. He isn’t ready for this. The glacier was one thing, but this, where there’s no other safety than the rope fastened in the mountain wall and his hand holding on… He had not signed up for this. 

“Dean.” Castiel takes a step back, reaching his hand back to the mountain wall to steady himself. He can’t do this. 

“Hey, man, it's okay.” Dean takes a step towards Castiel and puts a hand in the crook of his elbow. “I have some rope in my backpack and you have your harness, we can put it on if you like.” 

Castiel stares at Dean's hand where it rests softly against his arm, trying to avoid looking down the mountainside. 

“Or we can turn around, no shame in turning back.”

Dean tries to meet Castiel's eyes, ducking his head down. 

“Yes,” Castiel croaks, his voice barely audible, “the harness and rope.”

Dean squeezes his arm and then takes his backpack off, unfastening the harness and taking out the rope. Castiel watches him put on the harness and roll out the rope before fastening it on itself. Dean looks up and his green eyes meet Castiel's. They look at each other a few seconds until Castiel realizes Dean's waiting for him to put the harness on. He turns around and Dean gets the memo, taking the harness off Castiel's backpack. 

Castiel takes it and steps into it, clipping it around his waist. Dean fastens his rope, not taking a step back when he finishes. 

“You jump, I jump,” he says, giving Castiel a cheeky smile. 

“I would hope neither of us wants to jump down here, Dean.” 

Dean stares at him for a second before huffing out a laugh. 

“Yeah, we'll try to avoid that.” 

And with a clap to Castiel's shoulder, he starts walking down the path. Castiel watches as Dean takes careful steps down the mountain, one hand on the rope on the mountain wall, the other outstretched to keep his balance. Castiel follows slowly after, the rope swinging behind them. 

When they reach the second u-turn, there's a sudden drop on the path. Dean waits for Castiel, a hand reaching out for him to hold on to. Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder instead, balancing himself down right in front of Dean. Dean mutters a few words of encouragement without meeting his eyes, and then he starts walking again. 

Just like that first time on the glacier, Castiel zones out, his mind only on where to place his feet and hands. Before he knows it, Dean stands in front of him, unscrewing the carabiner and unhooking the rope. Castiel lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, glad the worst part is over. Hopefully. 

“There's no more steep parts like this?” he asks as Dean binds the rope together. 

“No, it’s all very easy from here,” Dean says and puts the rope back in his backpack. “Just a five minute walk and we’re at the lodge.”

Dean points to a small wooden cabin at the end of the road, right before it turns.

Castiel hums, ready to finally sit down and rest his legs. His right heel had started to burn halfway down the mountainside, the start of a blister that would match the one he got on his left heel two days ago. 

In front of him, Dean’s humming a song Castiel doesn't recognize. The hum turns into whistling and Castiel falls into the song's tempo. 

When they reach the cabin, Dean opens the door and lets Castiel through. He points to a table by the window, telling Castiel to take a seat. The mountains outside paint a beautiful picture inside the window frame. 

Castiel sits down with a heavy thump, his legs stretched out in front of him. Dean takes off his backpack and lets it rest against the foot of the table. He walks over to the bar, greeting the woman by the beer tap who’s filling up two glasses already. Castiel watches Dean as he leans forward on the bar, one knee bent, his hips raised on the right side. He’s still wearing the harness, the thin straps stretching out over his butt and to the thicker straps around his thighs. Dean points a thumb back over his shoulder and the woman behind the bar leans to the side. Castiel’s gaze shoots back up to meet the woman’s, and he sends her a tight-lipped smile. 

Dean comes back with two glasses filled to the top with beer. He sets them down and some of the foam runs down the side of Castiel’s glass. 

“This,” Dean starts and grabs his own glass to raise it, “is the best beer ever.” 

He clinks his glass into Castiel’s before taking a huge mouthful. 

“Ellen won’t tell me the secret ingredient, though,” Dean says loudly and glares over to the bar where the woman leans on the counter, shooting back that he’ll get the recipe when she’s on her deathbed.

Castiel raises his own glass and takes a sip. The light drink is refreshing after the long walk, even though Castiel rarely drinks beer. 

“So,” Dean puts his glass down, “what brings you to town?”

“New start,” Castiel answers. 

Dean hums. “That’s what they all say.” He rests his chin in his hand, eyebrows lowered as if he’s examining whatever secret he thinks Castiel is hiding. 

Castiel doesn’t say anything, well aware that it’s a bad reason. A new start won’t change a person. 

“You know, if you’re here for some soul searching shit, it’s probably not gonna work. This isn’t some paradise on Earth. Everyone here is just like people you would find anywhere else. There’s nothing special about this place.”

That’s exactly why I’m here, Castiel thinks. He wanted, needed, to be in a place where no one knew him, where he could get away from it all. 

“I’m not on some ‘soul searching shit’,” Castiel shoots back, making quotation marks with his fingers. “I just wanted to try something new.”

“Sounds like some soul searching shit to me,” Dean mutters and smiles before taking a sip. 

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, both sipping their beers. Castiel looks out the window, wondering if the snow-peaked mountain outside is the same one he saw from the glacier. Across from him, Dean moves in his seat and Castiel can feel him moving his legs underneath the table, placing one leg outstretched between Castiel’s. 

“What do you do when you’re not guiding people over glaciers?” 

“Nurse at the local hospital.”

Castiel turns his head towards Dean and squints. Dean didn’t strike him as a nurse. 

“Surprised?” Dean cocks an eyebrow. “I help around at the garage here too.”

“That’s nice,” Castiel hums. “Why do you do the guiding up here?”

“I love the glacier, have since I was a kid, there’s something magical about it.” 

Dean gets this dreamy look in his eyes and Castiel smiles at him softly. 

“My brother Sam moved away after starting college, but I could never move, I love this place too much.”

Castiel finds it hard to believe this place wasn’t heaven on Earth, the way Dean talks about it. 

Dean takes a sip from his half full beer. 

“You here for long?” he asks over the rim of his glass.

“Probably until Christmas.”

“You got here at the best time,” Dean winks at him. “Fall is always the best time to be in the mountains.”

“It is very beautiful here.” 

Castiel looks back out the window. The glass is making his hand wet and cold.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Dean asks, breaking Castiel out of his zone. "Or did." 

Castiel lets go of the glass and wipes his hand on his thigh. 

"Accounting," Castiel says. 

Dean hums. "You look the type." 

Castiel chuckles at that. 

"From the city, I'm guessing?" Dean continues. He downs the last mouthful of beer and Castiel watches his Adam's apple bob. 

“Seattle?”

Castiel nods. 

"Yeah, I could tell by your hiking experience." Dean meets his eyes. "Or the fact that you don't have any," he grins. 

Castiel raises an eyebrow. Dean doesn't stop smiling at him, like he just said the funniest joke ever heard to man. Castiel ignores him, emptying his own glass. 

“Are you coming tomorrow too?” Dean asks, changing the subject. 

“I don’t think so.”

Dean raises his brows in question. 

“It’s not exactly the most affordable hobby,” Castiel says and purses his lips. 

Dean hums and nods, but doesn’t meet Castiel’s eyes. They fall quiet again, Dean looking out the window. Castiel opens his mouth to say something but he doesn’t know what, so he just closes it and keeps watching Dean’s profile. 

Suddenly, Dean turns his head back, startling Castiel. 

“Well, we should get back down before it gets completely dark.”

He stands up and takes Castiel’s and his own glass over to the bar. Castiel glances over as Dean leans onto the bar to give the lady behind it a kiss on the cheek. 

Castiel gets up and puts on his backpack as Dean walks back. Just like when they came, Dean holds the door open for Castiel. He says goodbye to the woman behind the bar a second time, and then they’re outside, the air a lot more chilly than when they got here. 

Dean leads the way and they fall into a steady tempo as they walk the last hour down the mountain. On the way down, all Castiel can think about is whether he should come back tomorrow too.

Chapter Text

Castiel doesn’t hike out to the glacier the next day. He tells himself it's because of the weather but it isn't even that bad. The three blisters on his feet are thanking him, though. Hiking six hours four days in a row wasn't the best idea for an inexperienced hiker. But something had drawn him out there, day after day. 

The beer up at the lodge on the mountain had been really nice, both the beer and the company. Dean is probably getting ready to go out on the glacier again right now. Putting on his helmet and ice cleats. Putting on his harness. 

Castiel rips off his comforter and gets up from his bed. The small hand on the clock on his bedside table creeps towards eleven as Castiel goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He walks into the kitchen and pours the last of his coffee into the machine. 

The hiking gear is still by the door, the boots, backpack and pants just carelessly thrown on the floor, Castiel having been too tired when he got back to put it back where it belonged. 

Walking over to pick up his pants and throw them into the washing machine, Castiel catches a glance of the unopened letter on the kitchen table. He starts the machine and goes into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, then sits down at the table. Except for the stamp, the town and postal code, the envelope is blank. But Castiel recognizes the handwriting. 

He pries his index finger under the top of the envelope and rips open the letter. The thin notebook paper easily glides out and Castiel opens it to read. 

You give me no other choice, Castiel.

Castiel looks at the way Daphne’s l loops at the top. The threat of divorce makes his throat tighten.

I miss you, please come home.

He swallows down the lump in his throat. He misses her too. But he can’t yet. 

Dropping the letter on the table, Castiel puts his head in his hands and sighs.

Moving away from the city, from Daphne, from his life, had been their last hope to save their relationship. They needed a break from each other. Castiel doesn’t know if it’s helping. If anything at all, it feels like it has gotten worse.

Daphne had suggested that he get away from the city for a bit, saying it was his job that was taking its toll on him and their marriage. 

Castiel remembers their wedding. A spring wedding with their closest friends and relatives. Or the ones that could make it. It had all been such a rush. He should’ve thought it through better, gotten to know himself better first. 

He just didn’t think it through. He thought he loved Daphne, he really did. For a little while. But now, he’s not sure he even knows what it is or what it should feel like. If anything, the only thing he’s sure of is that this just can’t be it.

The chair whines as Castiel pushes himself up from the table. He puts the half empty coffee mug in the sink, not even bothering to pour it out before pushing his feet into his shoes and arms into his jacket. The door closes with a slam, clicking shut behind him. 

Castiel is hit with a wave of fresh air. He didn’t get this in the city. With a deep fresh breath in his lungs, he starts walking towards the town square. 

When he returns home, this will be something he’ll definitely miss; the opportunity to clear his head straight outside his own door. 

As he walks down the street, quiet on a Tuesday afternoon, Castiel's shoes are loud against the frozen layer that had appeared on the asphalt overnight. The stores are open but calm, and the town square that had been alive and packed with people when he got down from the mountain yesterday is now empty and sad in its bluish tone. 

Castiel walks over to the fountain in the middle, looking down on all the brown and golden coins at the bottom. He checks his pockets for one but doesn’t find any. 

A bell chimes behind him and he turns to see a person walking out of the grocery store. Thinking of the empty bag of coffee beans, he puts his hands back in his pockets and walks into the store. 

The bell chimes when Castiel enters too, earning him a welcome from the girl at the checkout. He grabs a basket and heads down the aisle, looking for coffee. The selection consists of only three brands, and Castiel picks the cheapest one, dropping it into his basket before heading over to the dairy section. 

The whole milk is at the bottom of the fridge, and Castiel takes a step back to open the door. A sharp pain suddenly blooms between his shoulder blades, but quickly fades again. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Castiel says and turns around. 

“No wor — W ait, Cas? Right?”

Castiel looks at Dean. Dean, here in the grocery store and not up on some mountain. Dean in jeans and flannel and a leather jacket instead of hiking pants and wool sweaters. 

“Ehm, yes, Castiel,” he corrects. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks and adjusts his shopping basket.

“Buying some,” Castiel bends down and picks up a carton from the lowest row, “milk.”

“Should’ve guessed,” Dean smiles. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be on the glacier by now.” Castiel takes a small step towards Dean to let the fridge door close behind him. 

“Yeah, that was the plan but then Ash wanted to join the hike so I let him take my spot.”

Castiel hums and nods. 

“You planning to do any other hikes while you’re here?” Dean asks. “Since you’re not hiking out on the glacier anymore.”

Castiel tries to remember other hikes he had seen in the tour guide but couldn’t think of a single mountain.

“I haven’t looked that much into it yet,” he answers. 

Dean leans his elbow on the shelf behind him, crossing his ankles. 

“There’s this really nice hike a ten minute walk from here.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” 

An older woman clears her throat and Castiel takes another step closer to Dean to let her pass behind him. Dean smiles at him as he takes a step back after the lady passes.

“I’ll take you, it’s a really simple hike,” Dean says. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Eh, yea — yes, I am,” Cas stutters. 

“Great! Meet you by the fountain at noon!”

Dean claps Castiel on the shoulder and then he’s off, leaving Castiel in the dairy aisle with a cold hand around his milk. 

When Castiel had gotten home from the store later that day, he had taken out his hiking pants from the washing machine. Now, they’re all clean and dry for today’s hike. He pulls the pants up and fastens his belt. He pulls his fleece sweater over his head and then takes it off, deciding it’s not that cold outside today. He brings the jacket, though, tying it around his waist before putting on his hiking boots. 

Dean is already waiting for him when Castiel gets to the town square, in the same hiking pants and black and white wool sweater he was wearing on the glacier a couple of days ago. 

“Ready?”

Castiel nods and Dean starts walking in the opposite way Castiel came. Dean points out his house as they walk past it before they cross a road and the path up the mountain begins.

The first part goes away okay, with stone steps to walk up. The next part isn’t as steep so the steps aren’t needed. 

“How long have you worked as a nurse?” Castiel asks Dean as the path widens enough for them to walk beside each other. 

“Uh — wait, let me think — ” Dean touches his fingers against his thumb as he counts. “Coming up on eleven years now.”

The sound of gravel under their feet is loud and Castiel leans in a bit to hear Dean. 

“Wow, that’s a long time,” Castiel says. “I had a cousin who was a nurse but she quit after a couple of years.”

“Happens a lot, but I love it. Couldn’t do anything else.”

Castiel smiles, even though Dean’s not looking at him. “Why?” he asks.

“I mean, my back would certainly love for me to do something else. But, I don’t know— Sometimes weeks after I’ve taken care of someone, they’ll send a card or email saying the stupid thing I did that day helped them through whatever fucked up thing was happening to them, and—” Dean sighs, “there’s just something special about it. Sounds stupid, but it’s very rewarding.”

Castiel is taken aback at how much Dean loves his job. He certainly did not like his job this much.

“I don’t think I ever could’ve been a nurse,” Castiel says, “I’m not good with people.”

“Not really buying that one, Cas.” 

Castiel turns his head and frowns, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Didn’t you say you were an accountant?”

“Oh, yes.” Castiel swallows. “My partner did most of the work with people. I was more focused on the paperwork and such,” he says lowly. 

“I see.”

“It wasn’t that,” Castiel takes a breath, “rewarding.”

“Is that why you quit?”

Castiel stops for a minute, letting Dean go first up the narrowing path. Dean takes a step up on the large stone in the path before looking back, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” Castiel lies. He swallows hard again and follows Dean, glad he doesn’t question it further. 

As the path narrows and gets steeper, they walk in silence, enjoying the cool weather. 

Castiel feels sweat between his shoulder blades under his thin wool sweater and backpack, but his ears and cheeks are numb from the cold. 

The further they get, the shorter the trees get, and soon, they can see over them and look down on the town below. The frozen ice on the roof tiles in the distance is like glittering specks in the sun that peeks past the veil of clouds. Castiel stops for a moment to enjoy the view and Dean stops after a few seconds when he realizes Castiel did.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Cas breathes, mesmerized by the colors around them, the pale yellow fields, the bright green moss, the specks of red from the blueberry leaves, the slightly orange glow from the sun, brightening everything around them. 

“Come on, we’re almost at the top.”

Dean turns to continue and Castiel has to rip his eyes away from the view to follow him. 

The mountain gets steeper at the top, but at least Castiel can see it. He hadn’t noticed when they began but now he can see a small wooden lodge up there. If he squints, he can see a couple of people sitting outside, enjoying the view. He can’t wait to get there.

“Careful here, the moss is really wet,” Dean says over his shoulder. He jumps over some dark green moss and over to the side of the path to avoid it. 

Castiel follows but slips, and suddenly his right foot is covered in moss, sinking deeper in as he keeps standing there. The water in the moss seeps into his boot and through his sock. 

“Just walk out of it!” Dean calls, the beginning of a laugh audible. 

With a loud slurping noise, Castiel pulls his foot out and places it on the side of the path beside the other, the right foot completely drenched. 

“Come here, I got some extra socks,” Dean says and waves him over. 

Carefully, Castiel walks towards Dean, hyperfocused on the path so he doesn’t slip into the moss again. 

Dean has taken off his backpack and he rummages through it for some socks. Castiel takes off his backpack too and sits down to untie his boot, grabbing it with both hands to pull it off, his hands getting muddy. 

“Here.” Dean hands him a pair of socks. “Put these on.”

Castiel dries his hands on his pants and puts on the sock. Then Dean hands him a small plastic bag. 

“Put this over your foot so the water from the boot isn’t uncomfortable,” he explains. 

With a new dry sock, and a plastic bag between his foot and boot, Castiel is ready to finish the walk. 

There isn’t much left but Castiel still sighs loudly when he sinks down in a chair on the terrace of the lodge, backpack slung to the side. He stretches out his legs and rolls his ankles as best as he can with the boots still on. 

Dean sits down beside him after coming from the bar, having ordered them beer and something to eat. Castiel sees him take off his boot, so he does the same, surprised that people would do that in a restaurant. But he isn’t going to complain about it. His feet feel so clammy, especially the one with the plastic bag on it, and his ankles are stiff from walking for so long. 

The view from the top is even more beautiful than from the mountain side. Here, Castiel can even see a lake far away in the distance, the sun reflecting like a mirror on the surface. The roof tiles down in the city don’t glitter as much as they did earlier, the ice having melted since the sun poked out from the clouds. The orange hue is calming and Castiel closes his eyes to breathe in the fresh mountain air. 

“You like it?” Dean asks, and when Castiel opens his eyes, he sees Dean’s intense stare directed at him.

“Yes, I really do.” Castiel smiles back softly. 

Castiel watches Dean turn his head towards the view, his nose a straight line. The sun catches in his eyelashes, making them golden. A strand of hair falls loose and Castiel gets the sudden urge to take it between his fingers and place it back where it belongs. Dean’s skin glows and the sun leaves a golden speck in his eye. 

A waiter comes with their drinks and a plate of fries to share. Both Dean and Castiel utter a thanks before clinking their glasses together. 

After taking a sip, Dean lowers his glass and places it on top of his thigh. He turns his head back towards the view and then closes his eyes to let the sun warm his skin. And it is in this moment, watching Dean’s glowy skin and golden hair, that Castiel realizes he could probably stay here forever. 

Chapter Text

When Castiel unpacks after the hike, he realizes he is still wearing Dean’s wool socks. They had kept his feet so comfortable, he had forgotten he had them on. Dean probably wants them back. 

Castiel takes them off, and after brushing off the dirt on his hiking pants, he puts it all in the washer. 

The next day, Castiel knocks on Dean’s door, wool socks clean and ready to hand back. Dean opens the door looking very awake, but with pajama pants still on. 

“Dude, it’s nine am on a Sunday, what are you doing here this early?”

Castiel clenches the socks and stretches his hands out for Dean to take them.

“I just came to drop off these,” he says.

“Oh, I had forgotten those.”

Dean takes the socks and mumbles a thanks. 

“I should—” Castiel begins.

“Do you wanna come in?” Dean interrupts. “Since you’re already here?”

Castiel looks around, the street completely quiet on a Sunday morning. 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Dean says, almost dragging Castiel in by his elbow. “I’ve got a pot of coffee on, anyways.”

Dean wasn’t lying about the coffee; the whole house smells like it, already waking Castiel up. 

“Here, sit.”

Dean walks past him and into the little kitchen to take out two mugs, then pours some coffee. He brings them to the table, setting one in front of Castiel.

The table is small, only for two, and Dean has some yarn and needles laid out beside a sock out of the same yarn. The living room and kitchen are connected, a small fire burning in the fireplace. Castiel tucks his right foot under the left, trying to keep some warmth in his toes. 

“There’s a blanket on the back of your chair if you’re cold,” Dean says and picks up his knitting. “It’s always cold in the mornings, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel mumbles back, draping the blanket over his legs before wrapping his hands around the warm mug. “What are you knitting?”

Dean looks down at the half finished sock on the needles. 

“Just a pair of socks,” he shrugs. “Can never have enough wool socks.”

Castiel chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee. Dean continues to knit, the metal needles clinking together and filling the small room with sound together with the cracks from the fire. 

After a couple of minutes, warmth starts to spread into the room, finally warming up Castiel’s feet. He watches as Dean finishes knitting a row and turns the sock to begin the next one. Slowly but surely, he works his way around the sock to the tip of the toe. 

“How were this week's hikes?” Castiel asks. 

Dean looks up but doesn’t stop knitting. 

“It’s been too windy to go out there.” Dean looks down again as he turns the work around and starts the next row. “But it was nice yesterday, so we went out with a little group. Not that many tourists here when the whole week is bad.”

“Are you going out with a group this weekend?” 

“No, we have the weekend off.” Dean looks down again to start a new row, the toe of the sock starting to form.

Castiel hums and swallows the last sip of his coffee. 

“Want some more?” Dean asks and nods towards Castiel’s mug. 

Castiel stands up, putting the blanket over the back of his chair. 

“I can get it myself,” he says. “Do you want more?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Castiel grabs Dean’s mug too, then walks over to the kitchen and starts making some new coffee. The coffee machine rumbles and Castiel looks over the kitchen. On the fridge, there’s an old picture of a blonde woman with two kids. A fish magnet keeps it and a picture of a young man in a graduation gown fastened on the fridge door. Dean stands beside the man graduating, arm slung around his shoulders, grinning. 

“Is this your brother?” Castiel asks Dean.

Dean turns his head and looks at the picture from the kitchen table. 

“Yeah, he went to Stanford,” Dean smiles softly. “Studied law.”

“Impressive.”

“He has always been the brains of the family.”

Castiel doesn’t know what to say. The coffee machine finished a couple of minutes ago. 

Dean doesn’t say anything more either. 

Castiel pours some coffee into the mugs and takes them back to the table.

Dean has taken the sock off the knitting needles, and Castiel places the mug gently beside them where they lie in front of Dean. He sits down and watches as Dean pulls the yarn through one final loop and ties it off, the sock finished with one thread of yarn hanging from the tip of the toe. 

“What’s your shoe size?” Dean asks, putting the sock on the table. 

Castiel raises his brows. 

“My shoe size?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten.” 

Castiel wraps his hand around the handle of the mug. 

“Why?”

Dean puts the finished sock over the other, flattening them out on the table. He gets up and walks over to the fireplace. When he sits back down, Castiel can see the small needle he picked up from the mantle. He treads the yarn through the needle and starts pushing the needle through the tip of the sock. 

“You can have these,” Dean says and cuts the little yarn stub sticking out of the sock. “Since you apparently don’t have more than one pair of wool socks.”

Castiel chuckles, not knowing if he should feel offended or not. “I have two pairs, actually.”

“Well, if you keep stepping into water, you’ll need some more,” Dean grins. “Here.”

He slides the finished socks over the table to Castiel. 

Castiel takes them, feeling the soft wool under his fingers. 

“Thanks.” He strokes the ribbing of the sock’s ankle. “No one has ever knitted me anything before.”

“Well, now someone has,” Dean shrugs. 

“Thank you,” Castiel repeats. 

Dean takes a loud sip of his hot coffee. “You’re welcome.”

Castiel absentmindedly strokes the socks as he looks around the room. Dean has almost no pictures, just the ones on the fridge and two others by a desk in the corner. But it still feels very homey. The old fireplace warms the room to a comfortable temperature, no need for the blanket Castiel had on his lap anymore. The fire casts a slight glow over the well worn burgundy couch, and parted dark curtains let in the cool morning light. 

Dean breaks the silence. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

Castiel turns his head back to Dean. 

“I don’t have anything planned,” Castiel answers lowly. “I was thinking about maybe visiting the restaurant Jo recommended the last time I was on the glacier.”

“Jo has bad taste,” Dean says smugly. “Let me take you to the glacier again.”

Castiel squints and tilts his head.

“Tomorrow’s okay with you?” Dean grabs his mug and gets up. He rinses it and puts it in the dishwasher. “Breakfast?”

“That sounds good,” Castiel says slowly. 

Dean leans back on the kitchen bench and crosses one leg over the other, his arms behind him making his t-shirt stretch across his chest. “Hiking or breakfast?”

Castiel meets his eyes and Dean raises an eyebrow. “Both.”

Dean grins. 

Chapter Text

When Dean drives up to Castiel's house, Castiel is already outside waiting, backpack packed and ready. Dean said he would bring the hiking gear, so Castiel's backpack is nearly empty, except for his sitting mat and some food and water. His old wool socks are in there too, the new ones he got from Dean already on his feet. 

Dean rolls down the window of the jeep he’s driving. 

"Good morning, Sunshine, jump in!"

Castiel opens the passenger side door and is immediately jumped by a big dog. 

"Oh shit, Hunter, come here, boy."

Dean's calls do nothing for Castiel, who has fallen to the ground, a big black and brown German Shepherd licking and sniffing his face. 

Castiel tries to sit up but only manages to lift himself up on his elbows, the dog's front paws holding him down. Hunter's tongue licks its way up his throat and Castiel giggles as it licks over his ear. 

The licking stops when Dean grabs Hunter's collar and almost drags him off Castiel.

"Sorry about that," Dean says, Hunter struggling against his hold, "he just likes people a lot."

"I didn't know you had a dog." Castiel stands up and brushes the dirt off his jacket. 

"I don't, he’s Ellen's." Dean gives Hunter a little push up into the backseat of the jeep. "I borrowed him for the trip, just in case we need some more manpower."

"He's," Castiel hesitates, trying to find the right word, "cute."

"Dude, are you afraid of dogs?"

"No, I just rarely meet any."

Castiel sits down in the passenger seat and Dean walks around in front of the car. 

"Well, you've got to get used to it. Almost everyone here has a dog," Dean says and pulls his door shut. Hunter puts his paws on the back of Castiel's seat, sniffing his scarf. 

"I brought a proper backpack for you too," Dean says and turns the key. "Assumed you didn't have one for longer hikes." He nods towards the small backpack on Castiel's lap. 

"Longer? This one was more than enough on the other hikes." 

Dean chuckles. "That was nothing, you've got to experience the real deal."

"And what's the ‘real deal’?" Castiel asks, fingers making quotation marks. 

"We're gonna sleep in a tent." Dean turns his head and smiles mischievously at Castiel.

"No."

Dean laughs. "Yeah, we are."

"Dean, no."

"Come on, it'll be so fun!" Dean turns up the music, some rock song Castiel hasn't heard before. "You'll love it!" he yells over the music, whatever Castiel was gonna say back drowned in the small space of the car. 

Castiel spends the whole way to the glacier trying to rub the sweat out of his hands. The moment Dean mentioned sleeping on the glacier, all his clothes suddenly felt way too warm and not breathable at all, even if they were almost all wool. Walking over the glacier while he is awake and fully conscious is one thing. But sleeping… He is not doing that. 

Dean parks in front of the only other car by the side of the road. He gets out and walks towards the back to get their stuff from the trunk. 

"Come on, Cas," Castiel hears him from behind. "It's gonna be alright. It's nothing you haven't done before."

Castiel slides out of his seat, his useless backpack clutched tight in his left fist. He walks to the back of the car where Dean stands and fastens some rope to the outside of a backpack much larger than the one Castiel is holding. 

"Hand me your backpack?" Dean asks after he finishes fastening the rope. 

Castiel puts it in the trunk of the car, his arm falling slack beside him as he lets go. 

"Hey, Cas." Dean turns to the side, leaning on the backpack and the back of the car. "We're gonna sleep on the safe area. It's seriously nothing you haven't done before." 

He reaches out a hand and places it on Castiel's bicep, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Open your jacket so you can breathe a little." Dean turns back to the boot, opening Castiel's backpack. "And loosen the scarf too, you're gonna get a heatstroke, it's not that cold." 

Castiel opens his jacket, the fresh air hitting his body underneath the two layers of wool and fleece, calming him down. He drags up his sleeves to his elbows and then passes Dean the other rope when he asks for it. 

Dean had packed their backpacks before he drove to Castiel, so the finishing touches don’t take long. He takes out the food and water from Castiel’s backpack. Out of what Castiel assumes is the backpack Dean brought for him for the trip, Dean takes out a shovel and some carabiner hooks, then places the food and water inside before putting the shovel and carabiners back on top. Lastly, they clip their helmets and harnesses onto their own backpacks. 

Dean helps Castiel get on his backpack, reminding him to fasten the hip belt on it. 

“It’ll be easier for your back,” Dean explains as he puts his white and black wool sweater on over his t-shirt and flannel. He swings his own backpack on and fastens the hip belt. Before closing the trunk, he grabs the dog leash for Hunter and whistles once. Hunter comes jumping over the backseat and into the boot, then down beside Dean. 

“Good boy,” Dean says and pets Hunter’s head.

Castiel takes off his scarf and puts it in his jacket pocket, warmth spreading up his face. 

Dean turns to him and smiles. 

“Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you gonna put the leash on?” 

“Nah, he can walk fine on his own here in the woods,” Dean answers, hand still on Hunter’s head. “We’re almost alone anyways.” He glances over to the other car and then back to Castiel to give him a wink. 

Castiel’s face is definitely burning now, and he places his cool hands against his cheeks to try to calm down. 

Dean has started walking, Hunter following close behind him, so Castiel hurries a few feet and falls into rhythm right behind Dean. 

The walk up to the glacier is shorter than last time, but it feels longer with the much heavier backpack Castiel is carrying now. He has never carried this much weight up a mountain before. Just the number of times he’s been on a mountain is so low he could count it on one hand. 

Dean probably realizes Castiel isn’t that experienced because he keeps looking back to check on him. And every time, Castiel gives him a strained smile, smiling through the ache that’s building in both his shoulders and feet. And they haven’t even reached the glacier yet. 

Hunter starts to walk faster, the gap between Dean and Castiel and the dog getting bigger and bigger, and Castiel realizes it’s not Hunter walking faster, it’s him slowing them down. 

“Dean,” he mumbles. “Dean.”

Dean turns, whistling once so Hunter stops and walks back to them. 

“You okay?” 

Castiel leans down and rests his hands on his knees. 

“It’s ten more minutes to the glacier and then we can take a break.”

Dean starts walking again, but slowly, letting Castiel get up, adjust his backpack and start walking too. It’s as if he’s even more tired now after stopping for just a few minutes than he was before he took the short break. But Dean was right; in little more than ten minutes, they see the edge of the glacier, the mossy greens of the mountainside slowly fading to rock gray. 

Dean unclips the belt and swings off his backpack before sitting down on it. Hunter seems like the only one who’s not tired at all and keeps walking between Castiel and Dean for some pets until he settles down beside Dean. 

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to sit down, glad to have the weight off his back. 

Dean told Castiel back at the car that the travel kitchen, food and safety gear were light, but the soreness in Castiel’s shoulders tells another story. 

Dean unscrews his water bottle and takes three huge gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Want some?” 

He holds out the bottle and Castiel hesitates for a second before taking it. He could just drink from his own but it’s all the way down in the backpack, between the extra hiking pants Dean has brought for him and the shovel on top. 

The metal is cool against his lips, and despite the cold weather, the cool water actually feels refreshing. 

He hands back the bottle and Dean puts it back in his backpack before getting up to take out the ice cleats and harness. 

“Come on, we have four hours of daylight left, we need to get going to make it,” Dean says and pats Castiel’s shoulder. When Castiel doesn’t get up, Dean grabs his shoulder and drags him up, a groan leaving Castiel. 

“Come on, man, I know you can do this, you’ve walked this route a thousand times.” 

Dean unclips Castiel’s harness from the backpack and hands it to him. 

“Only four times, Dean,” Castiel grumbles, sticking his leg through the harness. 

“Technically eight if you count back and forth.”

Castiel lets out another groan, not in the mood to deal with Dean’s sound logic.

He fastens the harness and helmet, and then puts on the ice cleats, the metal scraping against the mountain now a familiar sound. 

He wants to wait to put on his backpack for as long as possible, so he sits down and watches Dean put a harness on Hunter before fastening the rope to his back. 

Dean stands up and turns around to Castiel. 

Castiel puts the backpack back on and Dean fastens the rope before fastening it to himself.

With three small pulls, Dean checks that the rope is fastened on Castiel before checking on himself.  

Dean gives Castiel a small smile and then he starts walking, Hunter in front of him and Castiel behind. 

The weather isn’t as good as it had been when Castiel was here last week, but it’s nice knowing he isn’t gonna get a sunburn. 

It’s different being here alone with Dean than it was with the others. It’s a lot less noise, just two pairs of boots trudging over the ice. 

Every now and then, Castiel hears the wind drag over the ice, like a rustling. Almost as if the wind is speaking to him. Telling him not to interrupt, that they don’t belong out here. 

Castiel shakes the feeling off, focusing on Dean’s backpack swinging up and down as he walks. 

When they get to the rift, Dean doesn’t slow down, only looks over his shoulder, eyes warm with encouragement, before jumping over, holding the rope in front of him so Hunter also jumps over with him. Castiel watches as Dean continues to walk a bit before stopping a few feet away to let Castiel jump too. 

Castiel tries to meet Dean’s eyes but Dean is busy fixing the strap on his backpack. Castiel waits a few seconds but Dean doesn’t look up, so Castiel takes a breath and jumps, falling forward on his left knee. He catches himself with his right arm and pushes up from the ground, the heavy backpack making it harder. As he gets up, he hears a “nice” in front of him and then the rope starts to move when Dean and Hunter start walking again. 

Every now and then, a gust of wind exposes the sun before new skies cover it, casting the ice in a gray shadow. Soon enough, the mountain rises on the horizon, steady and sure like the sun at dawn.

When moving here, Castiel hadn’t expected the same nature to look so different from day to day. But right now, the snow is crunching under their feet, the sound of it different from the other days, and the soft streaks of sunlight that break through the skies cast a new bright golden light over the ice. 

The warm temperature from last week has resulted in bigger ice crystals when it dropped back down this week. The frozen patterns on the crystals are clear on top of the never-melting ice. 

After another hour, Castiel realizes that he doesn’t recognize their surroundings, Dean having led them to a new place, not the one they walked to with the whole group.

Dean stops and takes off his backpack. 

“This nice?”

Castiel looks around, the place not really that different from the other he had been to. The mountain is a bit more to the left, but the rest of the place looks as beautiful as the rest of the glacier, the skies opening up where Castiel and Dean stand, letting in the sun. 

“Yes, I like it,” Castiel answers. 

Dean tips his head up in the sun, smiling. Then he claps his hands together, making Hunter turn his head.

“Let’s put up the tent!”

It turns out that putting up the tent is way easier said than done. Dean wants Castiel to learn, and what would've taken fifteen minutes, instead takes forty-five. First, they have to unfold all the tent poles, which is relatively easy, but putting them in the correct parts of the tent is another thing. Castiel has to take out the tent poles several times, making Dean laugh harder each time.

"Dude, it's literally color-coded," he says and clutches his stomach from laughter. Castiel glares down at him where he sits in the snow, one arm behind himself for support. 

"Why didn't you say that from the beginning?" 

"This is more entertaining," Dean laughs. 

Castiel huffs before crouching down to try and get the tent pole in the right place again. He pushes the pole through the tent, the middle rising a little as the pole tightens the material, before it loses its balance and falls to the side. Castiel fastens the tent pole into place before getting up to do the same on the other side. It is a lot tighter than expected and the pole jumps out of his grasp, making Dean laugh even harder. 

"Stop laughing, Dean. It's not funny."

"I don't mind sleeping outside, so this is a you-problem, buddy," he shoots back before getting up and walking over to Castiel. He crouches down beside him and reaches for the tent pole again. 

"Here, grab this, and hold this," he says and hands Castiel the pole and the little strap the pole is going through. Castiel takes the pole, Dean's fingers grazing his as he removes his hand and then places it over Castiel's. 

"You have to make the pole stand up, stretch it out properly, and then you can fasten it," he explains. He slides his hands from Castiel's and up the pole to push it up properly. "There."

Castiel pushes the tent pole into place. It stands for two seconds before the bowed pole falls to the side again. 

"Do the next pole over there too, and it will be able to stand on its own," Dean says and points to the pole to the right. Castiel gets up and pushes it through the tent, putting it into place where he stands, then walks around to do it on the other side, succeeding at first try. 

"You're a professional already!" Dean cheers, whistling and clapping. 

"Shut up and come help me with the rest. Or I won't let you sleep in the tent."

"Your loss," Dean shrugs, but comes to help anyway. 

With Dean hammering down the tent sticks and binding the thick rope across the tent in case it starts blowing, and Castiel setting up the last two tent poles, they get up the tent.

Castiel takes a step back to admire his work, glad to finally be done. Dean comes up beside him and hands him another tent. 

"What's this?" 

"The inner tent."

"We're not done?" 

"If you want to sleep on straight ice, I'll gladly let you, but I prefer to keep some warmth isolated in the tent we just spent thirty minutes putting up."

Castiel groans and unzips the tent, crawling inside. 

"Just hook it up in place, it takes two minutes," Dean says into the tent, a smirk on his lips. 

Castiel squints. Dean is definitely putting him up to failure, but he isn’t going to give up that easily. How hard can it be? 

He unfolds the inner tent, finding the hooks, and starts clipping them onto the hooks on the inside of the outer tent. 

It all goes well until the inner tent won’t reach across to the other side.

Castiel sticks his head out of the tent.

"Dean, this doesn't fit."

Dean crouches down and looks into the tent, looking over what Castiel has done. 

"It would help if you weren't hooking the floor to the wall."

Castiel blinks at him, not quite realizing what he did wrong until he sees the plastic material of the floor is fastened to the left side of the tent. Dean only smiles smugly and gets out of the tent. 

"Why didn't you just do this so I wouldn't have to struggle so much with it," Castiel says angrily, taking down the inner tent and turning it so the floor is down a bit more rough than necessary. 

"You wouldn't learn it if I had done it," Dean answers from outside the tent. "Now you'll never forget it. It's like riding a bike."

"I don't know how to ride a bike and I've managed just fine, so I don't think I will need this either," Castiel mumbles. 

He turns his head as he hears the opening of the tent get shoved to the side.

"You don't know how to ride a bike?" 

Castiel kneels down and then sits on the back of his heels. "No, my parents didn't bother teaching us and then I never needed it."

"We need to do something about that. But tent first." Dean looks around inside, crawling in and settling beside Castiel. "This looks good, just hook on the roof and you're good." 

"Thanks," Castiel smiles and finishes the job, leaving the two of them in the small vestibule.

Dean leans out of the tent, his legs touching Castiel's thigh as he almost lies down to reach the backpacks that are outside. The harness around his thighs tightens as Dean pushes up from the ground, backpacks in one hand. He hands one to Castiel and they dig up their sleeping mats and bags, rolling them out beside each other inside the tent. 

Dean sits down inside the inner tent and stretches his legs out to untie his boots. He kicks them off and crawls into the tent to lie down. 

“Come on, you got to test it out,” Dean says, raising himself on his elbows. 

Castiel unties his boots too, and goes to lie down beside Dean.

The sun shines golden rays against the tent and Castiel closes his eyes. It isn’t as uncomfortable as he imagined. The tent heats up quite quickly with them both inside beside each other. Castiel can feel Dean’s warmth, his wool sweater brushing against his hand. 

When Castiel opens his eyes, Dean is on his side, head in his hand, looking down at Castiel. 

“I knew you’d like it,” Dean grins. 

“It exceeded my expectations, yes, but I would prefer sleeping in a real bed,” Castiel says. But to be fair, this comes pretty close. His only concern was that it would be cold, but with the way Dean is radiating warmth, Castiel isn’t that worried. 

Dean leans in closer to Castiel and stares at his face. The temperature in the tent suddenly feels several degrees warmer than it had been a couple of seconds ago.

“Dude, you look so warm, your face is completely red.”

Which only results in more heat spreading under Castiel’s cheeks and down his throat. 

“You got claustrophobia, or something?” Dean asks. 

“No, no, it’s just very, eh, hot in here.” Castiel stumbles over his word the way he does out of the inner tent to get on his boots again. “Maybe we should make dinner before the sun sets?”

Dean nods and follows Castiel out of the tent and into the red sun. He grabs a larger sitting mat from his backpack and rolls it out in the snow, telling Castiel to sit on it to keep it down. At a snap of Dean’s fingers, Hunter comes trotting and sits beside Castiel on the mat. 

Putting up the travel kitchen takes no time, and Dean surprises Castiel with a premade creamy mushroom pasta sauce. He puts Castiel on boiling water duty while he prepares the bowls and dumps the sauce into a pan. 

"You can't possibly fuck that up," he says and Castiel glares at him. 

Castiel does indeed end up fucking it up and burning the tips of his fingers, resulting in Dean taking care of all the food. 

"Two seconds and I’ll look at it," Dean tells him as he pours a little pasta water into the pan with the sauce. 

Castiel leans back, fingers burning, and watches Dean pour the water into a cup before dividing the pasta into the two bowls. Dean puts the pan over the flame and heats up the sauce. He grabs Castiel’s hand and looks over his fingers. 

“Looking good, nurse?” Castiel asks and smiles when Dean raises his eyebrows at him. 

“You need to be more careful, burns are a pain in the ass,” Dean says seriously. “Is it sore?”

Castiel nods and flinches when Dean pours some cold water on it. 

“Yeah, I know, it stings,” Dean says and pours a little more over the burn. “That means it’s a minor burn.”

The sauce starts bubbling and Dean drops Castiel’s hand to take it off the flame and pour over the pasta in the two bowls. 

“Here you go.” Dean gives Castiel one of the bowls and a fork before grabbing his own.

Castiel takes a bite off the steaming food and lets it warm him up from the inside. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now, how tired he felt, legs weak after hours of walking. 

They eat in silence, watching the sun go from blood red to golden orange and then fading into pink before the sky is left gray.

"So," Dean starts, licking the rest of the sauce off his fork. "Beer?"

"You brought beer?" Castiel sets the empty bowl down beside him. Dean does the same and lets Hunter lick the rest of the sauce. He takes Castiel's bowl and gives it to Hunter too. 

“Of course! Mountains and beers are like a match made in heaven,” he grins. Taking away the now almost clean bowls, he gets up and comes back with two beers in hand. He sits back down and pops the beers open with his ring before handing one to Castiel.

"Thanks," Castiel murmurs. He takes a sip from the cold beer. 

After a couple of silent minutes, Castiel hears Dean take a deep breath.

"Why did you really move here?" 

Castiel's fingers grow cold against the beer. He puts it down and zips up his open jacket, the temperature falling quickly as the sun has gone down behind the mountains. 

"I wanted to get out of the city," Castiel answers and picks up his beer again. 

"Who're you running from?" Dean leans back and looks at Castiel's profile. He takes a sip of his beer as he waits for the answer. Hunter moves closer to Dean and presses his face against Dean’s thigh. Dean drags a hand absentmindedly over his head. 

Castiel drags his sleeves down over his hands. 

"Why do you think I'm running away from something?" 

"So yourself, then?" 

Castiel turns his head and meets Dean's eyes.

"Why do you think that?"

"Oh, I hit a nerve," Dean smiles softly. "Middle aged man, no wedding ring, no connections to this place, boring accounting job, I'm just putting the pieces together here."

Castiel turns his head back and stares at the beer in his hand. 

"I was married," he says, barely audible. "Or am still. Legally."

 Dean is quiet beside him. 

"Why did you come here, then?" Dean asks again, breaking the silence. 

"I don’t know,” Castiel admits. “I think I just needed to get away. Something didn’t feel right. Like a dissonance.”

Castiel sees Dean choosing his next words carefully. “So now you’re getting a divorce?” 

“Yes.”

“What broke the connection?”

The green in Dean’s eyes is so bright in the last light of the day. His freckles stand out and Castiel could count each one if he wanted. He takes a big breath.

“I don’t know.”

Dean hums softly and looks straight ahead into the distance. Hunter gets up and stretches before going into the tent and lying down. The hand that had been petting him is left limp on the sitting mat.

“I suppose places can feel suffocating,” Dean says. 

“I can’t imagine this place feeling suffocating,” Castiel says in a low voice. 

Dean doesn’t reply for a long time.

"Sammy stayed in California after finishing his law degree. I miss him a lot but I don't wanna move from this place," Dean explains. He tips his head back, looking up at the dark blue sky. 

Castiel looks at Dean's exposed throat before turning to look up at the sky too. The stars are much brighter here with no street lights or houses and cars. 

"Why not?" Castiel asks when Dean doesn't continue. 

"After my mom died—" Dean gets interrupted by Cas' “oh”. “It's okay,” he goes on, “it was over thirty years ago."

"You must've been so young, five?" 

"Four. Sam was just a baby," Dean corrects. "I barely remember her, but it broke my dad. We drove around all over the country, never settling down." 

Dean inhales sharply through his nose and looks at Castiel. 

"And then I moved back here after he died."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel reaches out a hand and rests it lightly on Dean's upper arm. Dean glances down at his hand and then back up to meet Castiel's eyes. 

"It’s complicated," he smiles weakly. 

"It still hurts to lose a parent." Castiel squeezes Dean's arm and lets go. His hand immediately feels the cold air and he puts it in his pocket. 

"I remember my mom always told me about the glacier and how she was waiting for me to grow old enough to join hikes over here," Dean tells Castiel. "Up here, you're closer to God, she said." 

Castiel smiles.

"I don't know if it's God, but there's definitely something holy up here," Dean chuckles and looks over at Castiel. "You hear that?" 

A low sound rumbles a bit in the distance before everything falls silent again. 

"It's the glacier," Dean answers to Castiel's questioning look. 

Castiel remembers back to the very first time he was on the glacier. 

"It talks," he says, making Dean laugh. 

"It's just moving, Cas," Dean smiles. "I just said that to keep up the mystery around the glacier."

Castiel blinks at him. 

"You know it's just ice and snow, right?" 

"Yes, I did know that, Dean."

Dean claps his hands together, barking out a laugh. 

"Oh, you so thought it was talking." 

Dean wipes tears from his eyes as he calms down. 

"No, I didn't. I know it's just ice that moves."

"It is actually alive, though," Dean says, digging a small hole in the snow with his fingers. "The ice here is different from the ice in other places."

"Now you're just messing with me again."

"No, no, it's true." 

Dean takes a handful of snow and holds it between his hands. 

“The ice is made from snow crystals that melt together and grow, so the air in the ice is not something you can recreate when freezing water at home,” Dean explains and presses the snow into a snowball. 

Castiel grabs some snow in his hand too and looks at it. 

“Sometimes you can find pieces of the ice in lakes by the arms of the glacier during summer,” Dean continues, “that’s when most pieces break off because of the heat.”

Castiel hums and brushes the cold snow out of his hands. 

“The ice holds a lot of history, so in many ways it is actually talking.” Dean throws the snowball, and it disappears in the snow some feet in front of them. “But the sound of it is just the ice moving,” Dean says and turns to smile at Castiel. 

“It’s very different from just walking in the woods,” Castiel says. 

“Nature that is inaccessible to us will always have something magical about it.” 

Castiel thinks about all the different paths over this glacier that have never been walked over, all the undiscovered rifts and caves, all the land hundreds of feet down that is undiscovered, and that no one in his lifetime will ever live to see. Humanity is strong, but nature will always win. 

“Can we see the northern lights here?” Castiel asks after a couple of minutes of silence. 

“We’re not that far north,” Dean chuckles, “so probably not.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky, I’ve heard that October is the best month for northern lights.” Castiel looks over at Dean, eyes filled with hope.

“You shouldn’t believe everything they tell you at the tourist center, Cas.”

Castiel sighs a little and looks up to the dark sky, now speckled with stars.

“But maybe. Who knows,” Dean says and smiles. He tips his head slightly up and Castiel sees a star reflect in his right eye. “We can always hope.”

Cas smiles and glances up at the dark sky. 

"Have you seen it before?" 

Dean only hums in response. "It's not as bright as you see in pictures. But still very beautiful."

"I've never seen it."

"You'll see it sooner or later, you can’t miss it here."

He scoots forward and lies down, his upper body on the sitting mat. Castiel looks down at him. Dean's face is barely visible in the dark but the half moon lights up the side of his face in a soft white glow. 

"Come on, lie down, maybe we'll see it." Dean pats the space between him. Castiel lies down and folds his hand over his stomach. His jacket rustles against Dean's where they touch between them. 

Above them, stars glimmer across the sky, barely lighting up the glacier. The moon is much brighter and casts a long white stripe along the top of the ice. 

It's freezing now that the sun went down hours ago. Castiel starts to feel it in his legs and butt where they lie in the snow. 

The sky doesn’t change while they lie there, just the same dark and colorless sky as when they laid down. 

Castiel starts to shiver as the cold creeps into his pants and deep down into his bones. 

"Wanna go inside and sleep?" Dean asks and turns his head.

"We can lie here a bit longer."

"Cas, buddy, you're shaking, it's better to go inside and warm up."

Castiel sighs, disappointed that they didn't see anything, but he gets up and brushes off his pants. Dean does the same, then grabs the sitting mat and brings it into the vestibule for Hunter to lie down on. Hunter reluctantly gets up and lets Dean place the sitting mat under him. 

Castiel and Dean both untie their boots and creep into the tent, which isn't really that much warmer from the outside. Dean takes off his hiking pants and folds them before putting them in the pocket on the side of the tent. Castiel sits there, watching Dean take off another layer, putting the flannel in the same pocket as the pants. He keeps the t-shirt and thermals on and puts the sweater down on the sleeping mat as a pillow. 

"You need to lose some layers, Cas," Dean says and pulls off his socks. He puts them inside his sleeping bag. "Take off your pants and sweater and put them in the pocket there." He points to the wall of the tent by Castiel. 

Dean sticks his feet into the sleeping bag and pulls it up to his waist. He sits there, watching Castiel take off his jacket, pants and sweater. 

"You can keep on those socks, they breathe well enough," Dean says and nods towards the socks he knitted on Castiel's feet.

With a hum of approval from Dean, Castiel crawls into his sleeping bag too, pulling it all the way up to his shoulders. He lays his head down on his own fleece sweater and wriggles a bit to get comfortable. It’s weird sleeping in a closed tube, nowhere to move his arms and legs. 

Dean checks on Hunter a last time and closes the zipper to the tent. He lies down beside Castiel, far enough that they can't feel each other. 

Taking off their clothes had made enough warmth spread around the tent for it to be comfortable enough to sleep, so Castiel closes his eyes. He hears Dean move around a bit before falling still too.

"Just roll closer if you're cold during the night." Dean murmurs. Castiel smiles, but doesn't open his eyes. 

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Cas."

The tent falls quiet, just the sound of their breathing slowing, Hunter's breathing barely audible outside of the inner tent. 

The sky is still as dark as when they went to sleep, if not even darker, but over the mountain, far away in the horizon, a green shimmer can be seen as it licks its way up the sky, fading into pink and light purple as it dances across the sky over their little tent. 

Chapter Text

Castiel wakes up to almost complete silence. The sleeping bag rustles against the side of the tent as he turns onto his back. The bright light blinds him even with his eyes closed. He stretches his legs and sticks his hand out the sleeping bag to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

Beside him, Dean is still asleep. The soft and long breaths are the only sound now that Castiel is lying completely still. He turns his head to the side, seeing Dean's face smushed into his own wool sweater that he used as a pillow. They're lying much closer than Castiel thought, Dean's puffs warm against Castiel's face. The white light makes Dean's eyelashes look blonde. 

"Dude, stop breathing in my face," Dean mumbles, voice deep with sleep, lips barely moving. 

Castiel tries to hide his smile behind his hand, but Dean probably doesn't notice it anyway. 

Castiel turns his head back, staring up at the light green material of the tent. 

The pit in his stomach had disappeared slowly but surely last night, and now he can’t even remember why he had been so nervous. It’s so peaceful up here, all alone with only nature around them.

Maybe that’s the scary part. They’re interrupting the peace, their tent in stark contrast to the white of the ice and snow, their footprints dividing the glacier in half. 

Castiel thinks about what Dean had said last night. There is something holy about this place, and to experience it, you have to disrupt it, make it less holy. 

He turns his head again to look at Dean, careful not to breathe in his face and wake him up. 

Could the holiness transfer from one thing to another? 

Dean takes a deep breath and snuggles deeper into his sweater. In the vestibule, Cas  hears Hunter's collar jingle as he shakes out the sleep. He takes it as his sign to get up and make some coffee. 

As silently as possible, he shrugs the sleeping bag down his body before crawling out of the room and into the vestibule, where Hunter is sitting, patiently waiting for someone to take him out. Castiel sits down on the mat beside Hunter and puts on his pants, then laces his boots. He gives Hunter a quick pat on the back and fastens the leash to his collar. 

When Castiel opens the tent, the sun hits him right in the face, warm despite it being below twenty degrees. He grabs his sweater and jacket, knowing he'll get cold in a couple of minutes if he doesn't start moving. 

He binds Hunter's leash to the pole Dean hammered down yesterday, letting him run around and let out some energy as Cas puts on his sweater and takes out the camp stove and kettle. He fills the kettle with water from his water bottle and ignites the stove. Before putting the water bottle away, he takes a swig of it, the freezing water waking him up. 

The warm sun can only do so much and Castiel already starts to freeze where he stands, still waiting for the water to boil. He drags out the mat from the vestibule and sits down in front of the camp stove to warm his hands. 

At the sight of the sitting mat, Hunter also comes back and settles down, his head in Castiel's lap. 

"I'm guessing you like it up here," Castiel says to Hunter, hand dragging over his head in slow strokes. "I do too. It's so quiet."

Hunter doesn't answer. Instead, he places his head more comfortably on Castiel's thigh. 

“Dean said there’s something special about this place," Castiel continues. "I don't know if I see it. Do you?”

Castiel looks down at the dog in his lap, but Hunter seems unfazed. 

"I know Dean sees it," Castiel mumbles, "I wish I knew what it was."

The kettle starts slightly shaking, the water inside boiling. Castiel mutters a sorry to Hunter as he carefully pushes his head out of his lap, and gets up on his knees to fill the two mugs with powdered coffee. He pours the water into the mugs and stirs the coffee with a spoon. 

The warm mugs sink down an inch in the snow and Castiel knows if they don't drink the coffee soon, it will get cold very quickly. 

"Dean, wake up." 

He shakes the tent a little, hearing a low groan from the inside. He smiles before shaking the tent a bit more violently. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it, I'm awake," Dean says as he sticks his head out of the tent. 

Castiel watches as Dean puts on his pants and laces up his boots. Dean doesn't seem too fazed by the cold and only puts on his flannel over the t-shirt he slept in. 

"Scooch," Dean says, accepting the mug Cas holds out to him. 

Castiel moves to the side, almost pushing Hunter off the mat to let Dean sit down beside him. 

"What's for breakfast?" Dean asks after having taken a sip from his coffee. 

"I don’t know,” Castiel says, “I didn’t even know we were sleeping out here until—” he drops off to check his wristwatch, “23 hours ago.” He looks up at Dean.

"Well, I brought eggs and bread. Do you eat eggs? How do you have them?"

"Sunny side up is good."

“I can work with that,” Dean beams, giving Castiel his half finished coffee mug, and gets up to grab the ingredients. 

“It’s a miracle these eggs survived,” Dean grins, pulling out an egg carton that has been cut to only fit four eggs. The whole thing is wrapped in paper and fastened with an elastic. Dean takes out the bag with the travel kitchen, taking out the pan. He sets it down by the camp stove and takes the kettle off to put on the pan. 

“Might even have some salt and pepper in here,” Dean mumbles and crouches to look for it deep down in his backpack. An extra wool sweater, a first aid kit and two water bottles all get taken out before Dean triumphantly holds up two small diner packets of salt and pepper. It’s not long before the eggs are sizzling in the pan, the yolks as big and shiny as the real sun above them. 

“Here you go,” Dean says and shimmies two eggs onto Castiel’s plate. He puts his eggs on his own plate. Placing the bread in the pan, letting it toast, he puts some dog food on a plate for Hunter.

“Salt? Pepper?” Dean holds out the small packs. 

“No thanks, I’m fine.” 

Dean nods, contemplating, then puts the salt packet back in his backpack. “Not good for your heart, anyway.”

Dean turns the bread in the pan before giving it to Castiel. 

Castiel rips a piece of the bread off, bursting the yolk with it. The yolk is the exact amount of runny he likes it to be.  

“Not bad,” Castiel says, mouth half full with egg and bread. 

Dean smiles at him, his warm eyes getting warmer from the sun shining into them. He breaks a piece of the bread off and dips it into the yolk, bursting it on his plate. The yolk drips off the piece of bread as Dean gives the piece to Hunter and then one for himself. He catches Castiel watching him and smiles again. 

“You have some egg here,” Dean says, lifting a finger to point to the right side of his own mouth. 

Castiel rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the egg. 

“Other side,” Dean chuckles. 

Castiel tries again, checking his fingers to see if he got it. 

“Let me.” 

Dean reaches over, placing his fingers under Castiel’s chin, and swipes his thumb over his skin. 

“There you go,” he winks and puts his thumb in his mouth, licking off the egg. 

Castiel mumbles something resembling “thank you”, hoping for an instant sunburn so as to cover up his slightly red face. 

They finish their food and Dean packs the travel kitchen and camp stove into his backpack before they get started on the tent. Castiel fails at stuffing his sleeping bag into its pouch three times, and Dean tries to help him, but in the end Dean ends up stuffing the sleeping bags, with Castiel taking care of their sleeping mats. 

Taking down the tent is easier than putting it up, mostly because Castiel now knows how to do it. Even so, Dean gives him the responsibility of the tent poles. 

In less than an hour, they’re ready to leave. The only sign of them having been there is the flat snow and the two groves after the mugs. 

They put on their harnesses and ice cleats, and Castiel manages to get Hunter into his harness. Dean fastens their ropes and they put on their backpacks and helmets, ready to start walking back. 

Castiel casts a last look over the place, no sign of human intervention except the flat snow.

He’s surprised by how much he enjoyed the trip; the food was better than he ever bothered making at home, and the tent was actually comfortable. He barely even has a sore back. 

“I was thinking we could walk back another way,” Dean calls over his shoulder. “It’s an hour longer but we don’t have all that food now.”

Castiel agrees, and so they start walking, Hunter all the way in the front and Castiel in the back, paving a new path in the snow. 

He doesn’t really notice the difference in the path they take, the nature around them the same as before. 

The jingle from the ropes and carabiners swaying on Dean and Cas’ backpacks is louder this time, Dean having secured most of it on the outside of the backpacks. It makes a shrill sound but the familiarity of it is comfortable as Castiel falls into the rhythm of it. 

With a less heavy backpack and the sun shining down on his neck, the walk back feels easy and light. Their steps are steady over the ice, and time loses meaning with each step they take.

Dean leads them over a small rift, and Castiel watches as he takes a big step over, following Hunter, who’s already on the other side. Cas does the same, looking down as the spikes on the tip of his shoes grab hold of the ice until he sets the right foot down in front of the left. 

The rope between him and Dean suddenly pulls tight, forcing Castiel to look up. He doesn’t see Dean.

“Sit down on your butt!” he hears Dean yell. 

Castiel doesn’t have time to think before he drops to the ground, legs stretched out in front of him. Several feet in front of him, Hunter is barking.

“Dean?” Castiel yells out. 

The rope around his waist is pulling hard, so he leans back. It wedges itself down into the ice where it’s stringed tight. 

“Fuck,” Castiel hears faintly from the end of the rope. “Shit, give me two secs, Cas.”

Castiel feels his insides crawl, nausea rising from his stomach to the back of his throat. He opens the top of his jacket, trying to get some air in, and leans his head back. The sun hits his face, orange through his eyelids, but it doesn’t calm him down. 

“Dean?”

Castiel tries to adjust the harness where it tightens painfully on the side of his waist. He lifts his butt to adjust it and slides a few inches down on the snow. Dean yelps where he’s at the end. Hunter barks again.

“Cas, sit still, push your heels into the snow! You’re the one holding me up!”

Castiel’s throat closes up, but he tries to ignore it and pushes his heels down in the ice. He hears Dean talk in soft tones, calming Hunter down. 

“Are you,” Castiel’s throat tightens and a sob escapes, “are you okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little bruised, I’ll be fine,” Dean soothes Castiel. “Cas, I need you to pull me up, okay?”

Castiel closes his eyes again and tries to control his breathing. 

“How?” his voice shakes. 

“Just take some deep breaths,” Dean tells him, “I need you to focus.”

The breaths Castiel takes are shaky, but more controlled. He is not ready for this, he won’t be able to drag Dean up, Dean is taller and bigger and stronger than him, and probably weighs more, and with the backpack on and— 

“Cas, are you breathing?”

Castiel takes another big breath. In front of him, the rope pulls taut before it disappears down into the ground, then reemerges on the other side of the rift where Hunter stands, pacing back and forth. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” The rope moves a little and Dean grunts in pain. “I’m gonna tell you what to do, okay?”

“Okay.”

Not being able to see Dean is stressing Castiel out, and he doesn’t need that now. He takes off his gloves, putting his clammy hands in the snow to ground himself. 

“Take off your backpack and take out the shovel,” Dean tells him.

Castiel unclips the backpack from where he’s sitting, and opens up the top to take the shovel out, then assembles it. 

“On the side of your backpack, there’s this metal rod, shaped like a v, take that too.”

The metal rod is on the far side of the backpack and Castiel leans over to reach for it, the harness digging into his waist.

“Got it,” he calls back to Dean. 

“Great.” Dean goes silent.

“Dean?”

Castiel doesn’t hear anything from him. 

“Dean?” The panic in his voice is clear as day. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Dean calls back. “I’m just, just a bit dizzy. But it’s okay, I’m okay.”

Castiel stays silent, waiting for the next instruction. He sees Hunter laying down, his side of the rope slack as he is closer to Dean than Cas is. 

“What do I do now?” Castiel asks when Dean doesn’t say anything more. 

“Make a hole. With the shovel.”

The ice crunches loudly as Castiel digs his shovel in.

“The rod needs to fit horizontally,” Dean explains from the rift. 

The angle is weird, but after a few minutes, Castiel has made a hole big enough for the rod. 

“Unwrap the rope on the rod and put it into the hole, horizontally, with the rope coming out towards me.”

Castiel reaches for the rod and unwraps it, placing it down in the hole. 

“Take the carabiner on your harness,” Dean continues.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

Dean goes silent as Cas pushes the rod into the snow in the bottom of the hole.

“On your harness, there’s a carabiner on a thinner rope, knotted on the main rope, you see it?” Dean asks after a few seconds. “Take that carabiner, don’t undo the knot on the main rope, and connect it to the rope on the rod.”

Castiel fumbles a bit with the screw around the carabiner, his fingers cold and shaking as he unscrews it and clips the carabiner onto the other rope, screwing it shut. 

“There’s a micro traction on the side of your harness.”

“A what?” Castiel yells back.

“The orange thing on the carabiner. The pulley.”

Castiel fumbles with the sides of his harness, trying to find the right carabiner. Hooked to the right side of his harness, he finds a little oval shaped pulley. 

“Found it!”

“Open it and put it on the rope, it should slide towards me,” Dean says immediately. 

Cas can hear him breathing heavier, and he, too, feels his legs getting cramped up where they’re holding Dean up. 

He tries to open the pulley, turning it around to figure out how it opens. When it opens, he tries to place the rope into it.

“Where does the rope go?” he yells to Dean.

“Push it past—” Dean groans, “push it past the gray teeth on the pulley.” 

Castiel feels Dean swing and then he hears another groan. 

“The teeth should be pointed towards you!”

Castiel takes hold of the taut rope again and pushes it past the teeth, checking to see if it slides towards Dean. 

“What now?” Castiel says. The sun on his neck causes more discomfort than comfort at this point. He wipes his forehead, right under his helmet. 

“Hook the pulley on the metal rod’s rope.”

“With a carabiner?” 

When Castiel hears a weak “yeah”, he takes a loose carabiner from the side of his harness and pulls it through the micro traction. The rope is too far away, and Castiel unhooks the carabiner and takes off the pulley to place it on the rope closer to the metal rod’s rope before hooking it onto it. 

“You done?”

“Yes!”

“Try to slowly let go,” Dean says. “The rod should hold me.”

Castiel holds around the rope and slowly lifts his left leg, keeping his balance with his right knee. The rope gives in a little.

“Slowly!” Dean yells. Hunter barks. “It’s okay, Hunter, just keep still,” Cas hears Dean say softly.

Castiel slows down and the metal rod stays in place, keeping the rope taut, holding Dean up. Cas sits down on his butt, letting out a sigh. 

“Still down here, buddy, we’re not done yet,” Dean chuckles and then moans low. 

Castiel groans softly before calling back, asking for the next step.

“I need you to tie a knot.”

Castiel sighs again. 

“I’ll guide you through it,” Dean continues. “See the purple rope on your backpack?”

Castiel reaches for his backpack again.

“Or maybe it’s dark blue, I don’t remember.”

“I can’t find it!”

“Check the pocket on top!”

The zipper makes a loud noise as Castiel shakily opens the pocket, the dark purple rope tied nicely in there. He takes it out.

“Do I untie it?”

“Yeah, and then fold it once in the middle.”

Castiel unties it and folds it, his hands shaking a lot more now. He doesn’t know if it’s the cold or the stress.

“Sit down,” Dean orders. “No need to get nervous, we have time.”

“I’m sitting.”

“Okay, good.” Dean moves again and Castiel hears his ice cleats against the snow down in the rift. The nausea is starting to come back again. 

“Place the rope underneath the rope your harness is hooked onto. You’re gonna tie it close to the carabiner on your harness.”

“Okay,” Castiel says hesitantly, laying the purple rope down on the snow underneath the thicker rope he’s fastened to. 

“Use one hand to keep the loop on the folded side open and take the two ends over the thicker rope and into the loop. Don’t tighten it.”

Carefully, Castiel places his hand inside the loop and pulls the ends through. 

“Do that two more times, exactly the same.”

One, two, and the rope is twined around the other. 

“You can tighten it now. And then make a regular knot close to the knot you just made.”

Castiel tightens it and makes another knot. 

“How’s it looking?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel exclaims, his voice higher than he meant it to be. “I just— I have no idea how it’s supposed to look.”

“Well,” Dean says through what sounds like a nervous chuckle. “We don’t have any other options, so I’m betting my life that it looks great.”

“It’s not funny, Dean!”

Dean stops laughing then. “Okay, yeah,” he says. “I know.”

He falls quiet and Castiel can’t bear it.

“What’s the next step?”

“You holding the purple rope?” 

“Yes.”

“Pull one of the ends through the loop your carabiner’s also on and then another regular knot to keep it there.”

With one strand into the loop, Castiel pulls the two ends together again, loops and makes a knot. 

“When you’ve done that, you can unhook yourself from the main rope.”

“Stop joking.”

“Does it sound like I’m joking?” Dean shoots back. 

The silence speaks for itself and Castiel takes a deep breath. 

“You’ll be connected through that purple rope, only now you can move down it freely so you can drag me up,” Dean explains. 

Castiel unscrews the carabiner and then closes his eyes as he unhooks the main rope from his harness. The end of the rope lies beside him.

“You okay?” Dean asks, and Castiel feels bad for Dean having to ask when he’s the one getting swallowed by the ice and snow. 

“I’m fine.” The snow under his butt is melting, making his pants wet and cold, but he couldn’t complain.

“Walk a few feet towards me, just slide the knot you’re hooked to down the rope as you walk. Take the end of the rope with you, you’re gonna tie it down.”

Cas’ knees pop as he stands up, and with hesitant steps, he walks towards Dean, dragging the rope with him. Standing up, he can see just the top of Dean’s green helmet. 

“Take the t-block, the little gray triangle from your harness, and hook it onto the main rope with a carabiner, the pointy end up,” Dean instructs. “The end of the rope should be laying beside the rope holding me.”

Crouching down, Castiel fastens it and stands up again.

“Hook the end of the rope through the carabiner too, but drag the rope you’re connected to so it’s on the side close to me.”

“Okay,” Castiel says hesitantly, not really sure if he understood.

“You should stand with your back to me,” Dean continues. 

Castiel crouches down again, with his back to Dean and the carabiner and triangle in front of him. Pulling the purple rope towards himself, he fastens the triangle on the main rope. 

“Did you get it?”

“Yes, I think so,” Castiel answers and stands up again. 

“Did you put the end of the rope through the carabiner too?”

Castiel looks at where the end of the main rope lies beside the taut rope. He pulls it through the carabiner.

“Done now!”

“Good! Next part is the easiest but the heaviest,” Dean warns him. “Are you ready?”

“Do I have any choice?”

Dean laughs mockingly. “Real funny, Cas,” he says. “Could have been you down here, you know?”

“I wish it was,” Castiel mumbles. “Then I would’ve been rescued by now.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean says, like a joke, but Castiel knows it’s probably true. “Okay, walk back to the pulley. With the end of the rope.”

Dean wasn’t exaggerating when he said this was the heaviest part. Each step feels so small as Castiel fights against Dean’s weight on the other side of the rope.

Dean groans as he’s pulled up a few inches. 

Castiel hesitates. “Should I stop now?”

“No! Just, I’m fine, Cas, just keep going. All the way to the pulley.”

Castiel tries to ignore Dean’s groans as he takes the final steps to the pulley. 

“Now what?” he calls out to Dean.

“Nice! All that’s left now is dragging me up,” Dean explains. “I’ll try to help but my shoulder hurts a bit.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get you up,” Castiel reassures Dean. 

“Easy, tiger, it’s harder than you think,” Dean laughs. “You drag the end of the rope, okay, where you’re fastened.”

“Got it!”

Castiel bends down again and takes hold of the rope. He places one hand right underneath the knot he’s fastened to for leverage and places his feet hard in the ice. With the other hand lower on the rope, he leans back and pulls hard. A groan escapes his lips, Dean heavier than he expected. He pauses to readjust his grip, then starts pulling again. The pulley keeps the rope taut, not letting it slide down as Castiel adjusts his grip and pulls again. 

After a few seconds, Cas sees the top of Dean’s helmet, and with the next pull, his face comes into sight. 

“Hey,” Dean smiles cheekily and winks before scrunching up his face in pain and groaning as his shoulder hits the side of the ice. He places one arm on top of the ice and tries to help pull himself up. It helps a little, and Castiel pulls him fully up with five more pulls. 

“We need to get away from this ledge,” Dean says and takes a careful step towards Castiel. “Can you hook yourself back on the main rope and just take off the t-block and the pulley?”

Castiel nods and gets on his knees to untie it all. Dean stands a few feet away and slightly touches his elbow. He whistles and Hunter jumps up and over the rift, over to Dean’s side. 

“Are you okay?” Cas asks.

“I think I just hit my shoulder really bad. I need you to look at it.”

“Okay,” Castiel says hesitantly.

“One thing at a time,” Dean says, nodding his head down to the rope. 

Castiel finishes up, hooking the t-block and pulley back on his harness and putting the metal rod, shovel and ropes back in the backpack. Dean tells him how to tie himself back on the rope, and with shaky hands, Cas gets himself connected to Dean again.

“Just go back the same way we came,” Dean tells Castiel. 

He starts walking, Dean and Hunter following him. 

They walk for a few minutes and then Dean tells him to stop.

“Can you help me get this off?” Dean asks and points to his backpack.

Castiel walks over, carefully unclipping the hip belt. He grabs the shoulder of the backpack, a hand under it to lift off the weight. 

“Careful,” Dean hisses. “I’m serious, carefu— Ow, Cas!” 

Cas quickly lifts the backpack off and Dean sighs in relief when it’s completely off.

Dean unzips his jacket and takes it off the good arm. 

“Can you do this arm?” he asks Castiel. “The flannel too,” Dean continues after Castiel has carefully shimmied the jacket off his arm. 

“Is it swollen?” Dean asks.

Castiel narrows his eyes and takes a look at Dean’s shoulder. 

“Maybe a bit under the t-shirt.”

“Can you roll it up?” 

Castiel takes a step forward and touches the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. Dean flinches away, but when Castiel meets his eyes, Dean nods. Cas tries again but Dean flinches again.

“Okay, just let it be, it’s not that bad anyways,” Dean says breathlessly. “Can’t be worse than the shit I see at the hospital. Last week I had this guy come in with his arm hanging by—”

“Dean,” Castiel interjects. 

Dean tries to laugh a little, but it comes out more as a wheeze.

“So,” Dean starts, “it’s most likely dislocated.”

Castiel hums, hands picking on the seams of his hiking pants. 

“But can you check if I’m bleeding?”

“Your shirt is black so I can’t really see,” Castiel says as he leans in to inspect the shoulder.

“Just touch it, Cas.”

Carefully, Castiel brings his fingertips to Dean’s warm skin. With a touch as soft as a feather, he drags his fingers across Dean’s shoulder. With a wince, he flinches and pulls his hand back.

The air suddenly feels all too hot and Castiel can’t breathe properly, his head getting light and dizzy.

“Cas.” Dean grips his shoulder with his good arm, wincing at the movement. “You need to focus. It’s going to be okay.” 

Dean’s eyes are bright in the sunlight and Castiel tries to focus on them. 

“Was there any blood?”

“Why is it like that?” Castiel asks and wags a finger towards Dean’s shoulder, where the joint can be seen slightly bulging under the shirt. He takes a step back to keep his balance. 

“I told you, it’s most likely dislocated,” Dean answers back sternly before repeating, “Was there any blood?”

Dean’s hard and unwavering stare meets Castiel’s unfocused one. 

“No,” Castiel says, voice shaky.

“You feeling better too?”

Castiel nods, still breathing heavily, but at least the dizziness is gone.

“Open my backpack, on the side there,” Dean points, “there’s a first aid-kit.”

The red of the kit is easily seen and Castiel drags it out of the backpack.

“Have you ever made a sling before?”

Castiel shakes his head.

“Okay, it’s easy, I’ll show you.”

Dean points to a folded triangle bandage in the kit. “That’s gonna be the sling.”

Castiel grabs the bandage and stands up. 

“Shit, this hurts like a bitch,” Dean complains. “Just lay the bandage up here.” Dean gestures towards his good shoulder. 

Castiel drapes the long side over his good shoulder, careful not to touch Dean more than necessary. 

“Take that side,” Dean nods towards the point of the bandage hanging down, “and pull it under my armpit.” 

Castiel leans down slightly to grab the other end and then, gently touching Dean’s bicep to keep him steady, he brings the bandage under his armpit and onto the other side. Dean lets out a groan as Cas moves his arm to get the bandage under his arm, then lets out a big breath when Cas is done.  

“And then you just tie it together in the back.”

“Is this okay?” Castiel asks as he finishes the knot.

“Fantastic, couldn’t have done a better job myself.”

Cas only glares at Dean, no patience left for his mocking.

"Can we please just get to the car so you can go to the hospital?" 

"Yes, sir," Dean jokes and crouches down beside his backpack. He swings his jacket over his bad shoulder and puts his good arm through the sleeve. Castiel watches as Dean starts pulling stuff out of his backpack. The tent, the sleeping bag, the travel kitchen all lie out on the ice. 

"I know I said the walk back would be easier but you need to put this in your backpack," Dean says. 

"Will that even fit?"

"Yes, come on, pack up and we'll be back at the car in no time."

With a sigh, Castiel takes off his backpack and sits down next to Dean. Dean tries to help the best he can by telling him how to pack it, but without two functioning arms there's not much Dean can do to help.

The hip belt closes with a final click and Castiel is ready to get off this glacier. 

He helps Dean with his backpack, carefully placing the light bag on Dean's good shoulder. It still doesn't stop him from wincing, and every other step, Dean groans low, making Castiel wish they could get to the hospital faster. 

The nature surrounding them that had seemed so perfect and alive yesterday is cold and unmoving now, every step forward feeling like two steps back. Isn’t that the same mountain they’d passed ten minutes ago? And the skies haven't changed either. It’s all standing still.

Castiel's jacket feels more and more suffocating, the fleece sweater and wool thermal making him sweat and pant. 

But they have no other choice than to keep walking, hard breaths and groans mixed with the crunch of the ice. So they keep walking.

Chapter Text

"You have to drive."

Dean carefully swings the backpack off and puts it in the trunk of the car. 

Cas freezes. "No."

"Dude, does it look like I can drive?" Dean points to his arm in the sling. 

"Does it look like I can?"

"Jesus Christ." Dean rubs his forehead and lets out a laugh that turns into a sigh. "Good thing we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Why?" Cas tips his head to the side.

"You're gonna learn to drive!"

Dean claps his hand on Cas' shoulder and gets into the passenger seat.

This trip just keeps rolling downhill.

Castiel places his and Dean’s backpacks in the trunk. He leads Hunter into the backseat, closes the door after him, then sits down in the driver seat, reaching for his belt before realizing it's on the left side. 

"Stick is super easy, you'll do great!" Dean encourages him. “Could you?” He gestures towards the seatbelt. 

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Cas clips on his own seatbelt before leaning over Dean, careful not to touch his arm. He grabs the seatbelt and slowly places it over Dean’s arm.

Dean reaches into his pocket with his good hand and gives the keys to Cas. "Just turn on the car."

"How do I do that?" 

Dean blinks at him.

"Step on the clutch, and put the key in there and turn it."

Castiel fumbles around with the key but manages to get it in. He looks down between his legs, the three pedals all looking the same to him.

"It's the one on the left," Dean says. "Step on it with your left foot.”

It’s harder than Castiel expected but he presses the pedal all the way to the floor. 

“I can do the gearing and you just worry about the pedals, okay?” 

Dean places his left hand on the stick between their seats and pushes it to the side and up. He takes off the handbrake too and then places his hand back under his elbow to support his bad arm. 

“Just slowly press in the pedal on the right,” Dean explains, the sharp breath loud when he leans over to point, “that’s the gas. And then, at the same time, you slowly lift the clutch.”

Castiel lifts his left foot and presses the right foot to the floor. The car jumps forward and suddenly stops. 

“Fuck!” Dean leans his head back, a pained expression on his face. “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, “clutch in again and turn the engine back on, and lift the clutch slower this time.”

Castiel tries again. This time, the car starts slowly creeping forward. 

“Great,” Dean cheers the best he can, “continue down there and then to the right.”

The gravel under the car is loud, and on every bump in the road, Dean moans as they jump a little in their seats. 

Castiel clutches the wheel, knuckles white against the black leather. He wants to check on Dean but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off the road. Slowly, he tries to turn the car to the right like Dean said, but he’s too slow and the left front wheel skids outside of the gravel road. Dean reaches over to the wheel and pulls it towards him to straighten up the car, groaning as he does it. 

“I know the sign at the end there says stop but we’re just gonna drive so we don’t have to worry about the clutching,” Dean says. He leans slightly forward in his seat to look past Cas and at the road. “No one’s here, just drive onto the road.”

The car waggles a little as it works itself over the edge of the asphalt and on the road. Castiel feels his shoulders sink slightly down as the road flattens out and gets more steady. 

“Ready to gear up?”

And with that, Castiel’s shoulders shoot back up. Dean takes his silence as a yes and continues, “Give a little more gas.”

The car speeds up slightly, starting to sound tired. 

“Lift the gas and press in the clutch.” Dean puts his hand on the stick and changes gears when he sees Castiel’s feet move. “Slowly lift the clutch and press in the gas again.”

The car starts to rumble as they continue at the same speed.

“You need to speed up, Cas, to about 15 here,” Dean points to the speedometer on the dashboard. 

Castiel didn’t know he could clutch his fists more than he already had, but he does and presses the gas slowly in, the arrow reaching a little under the white 20. That makes the car run smoothly and without much discomforting noises. 

“Can we go faster?” Dean asks. 

Castiel swallows hard and grinds his teeth together. 

“Okay, 20 miles it is,” Dean sighs and leans back in his seat, trying to relax. “We’re gonna drive on this road for about 20 minutes and then we’ll almost be at the hospital.”

“Okay.”

Dean moves in his seat, wincing a little. “I hope Charlie’s at work,” he murmurs.

“You know the doctors?” Castiel asks, eyes still on the road.

“And the nurses,” Dean chuckles softly. “I work there.”

Castiel nods. The road curves slightly and he tries to calm his stomach, the stuffy air and the non-breathable jacket making him slightly dizzy. 

As if Dean can read his mind, he says, “You can roll down the window if you like.” 

When Castiel doesn’t do anything, Dean groans a little as he leans a bit forward to grab the wheel with his left hand. 

“I got the wheel, you can roll down the window, Cas.”

The air rushes in Castiel’s ears as the window is halfway down, but finally, he can take a proper breath. Little by little, the dizziness disappears, leaving him with a twisting stomach and clammy hands. 

They sit in silence, all four eyes on the stretched out road in front of them, the leaves on the trees casting blotchy shadows over their faces as they slowly drive by. 

A car appears behind them but barely for a second before turning on the turn signal and driving past them. Dean stretches out a hand again to keep the wheel steady as Cas’ breath shortens when the car passes on their left side. 

“To the left here, we need to gear down.”

“What do I do?”

“Step off the gas, the car will start slowing down by itself,” Dean explains and Castiel takes his foot off the gas, letting it hoover in the air, not knowing where to put it. “Step on the clutch,” Dean orders and changes down to second gear. “Clutch slowly up and gas slowly down.”

This time goes even more smoothly than the others, but Castiel can’t wait to get out of the car and back in the passenger seat the next time they’re gonna drive. 

“Okay, just park the car there somewhere, it’s not gonna be a lot of people here anyways,” Dean says and points to the empty parking lot furthest away from the hospital entrance. “Try to park between the lines, but it’s not a big deal.”

Castiel turns the car into the parking lot and tries to drive into a spot. The car bumps into the pavement, the front now higher than the back. 

Dean screams out in pain and Castiel steps on the brake.

“Jesus Christ, Cas!”

“Are you okay?” Castiel’s voice is shaking.

Dean closes his eyes, head tipped back against the headrest. Castiel watches as he takes several deep breaths and the color returns slightly to his pale face.

“That—” Dean takes another big breath, “hurt.”

Dean opens his eyes and lifts the handbrake. 

“Sorry,” Cas mutters. 

Dean just waves him off and opens his door. He takes a step back and inspects the parking job.

“Eh, good enough,” Dean tries to shrug but only his left shoulder rises. “Can wait till I get my shoulder fixed.”

Castiel takes off his seatbelt and turns the ignition off. He takes the keys and gives them to Dean, who puts them in the pocket on the side of his thigh. 

Side by side, they walk into the hospital, the waiting room almost empty except for three other people. Dean walks over to the reception desk and Castiel follows. 

“Hey, Missouri,” Dean winks to the lady sitting by the triage sign. He places his hand under his dislocated arm. Castiel stands halfway behind Dean, unsure if he should sit down or stay with Dean. 

“Dean, what brings you in on your day off, darling?” The woman behind the reception desk, Missouri, asks and takes off her glasses, letting them dangle around her neck.

“Had an accident, I think I dislocated my shoulder,” Dean explains and nods his head towards his shoulder. 

“How on earth did you manage that?” Missouri puts on her glasses again to write something on the computer. 

“Fell into the glacier, hit the back of my shoulder against the ice wall,” Dean explains.

Missouri takes a second to finish writing. “Any tingling? Broken skin?”

Dean shakes his head.

“Pain out of ten?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Four, maybe?”

Missouri nods and keeps writing. “What about when you move it?”

“It’s not that bad,” Dean says. Cas glances over at him, and Missouri looks at Dean over her glasses.

“Show me,” she says, a brow raised, her chin resting in her hand. 

“Okay, bad, eight out of ten,” Dean sighs, giving in. 

“Mhm,” Missouri hums. “Did you take anything for it?”

Dean shakes his head again. 

“Okay, let me take some notes and I’ll see where I can put you.”

“How busy are we?” Dean asks. 

“The usual, you’re lucky it’s a Sunday. We’ll bring you in in a couple of minutes, probably.”

“You’re the best, Missouri.”

Missouri gives Dean a small smile and finishes up what she was writing. 

“Who’s the handsome fella you brought,” Missouri asks and looks over her glasses.

Dean takes a step to the side so Missouri can get a good look at Castiel. 

“Oh, this is just Cas.”

“ Cas? ” Missouri’s eyebrows creep up her forehead. “And is Cas gonna hold your hand?”

Dean blushes and clears his throat. “Nah, he’ll probably stay here.” 

Dean turns to Castiel and softly touches his elbow. 

“You can wait for me inside, too, if you want to,” Dean explains. “But if they’re gonna pop my shoulder back into place, it can get a little… weird.”

“Okay,” Castiel says, not really knowing what “inside” is, but he doesn’t want to be left alone here in the waiting room.

“So, Charlie’s looking after you, she’ll be here soon,” Missouri says. 

“Thanks,” Dean answers, still looking at Castiel. 

They don’t get time to sit down before a redhead in green scrubs walks out, face in a big grin as she sees Dean. 

“I heard the handmaiden got his shoulder dislocated,” she says as she comes up to stand in front of Dean, poking a finger into his shoulder. Dean flinches away before she can touch him, but smiles at her. 

“Happens when you’re protecting the Queen of Moondoor,” Dean winks. 

“More like the dark handsome prince,” Charlie says smugly and looks over at Castiel. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is my devastatingly handsome friend, Cas,” Dean jokes.

Castiel blushes as Dean wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him forward as they start walking towards an empty bed behind a curtain. Dean doesn’t let Castiel go until he sits down on the bed. 

Castiel stands awkwardly beside him, hands together, trying not to stand in the way. Charlie gestures for him to sit in the chair beside the bed. Castiel sees her give Dean a little smile and a wide-eyed look, and Dean slightly shakes his head. 

“So, handmaiden, what happened?” 

Charlie takes out a pen from her scrubs and starts filling out a form. 

“Fell into the glacier, bumped my shoulder from the back,” Dean explains for the second time today.

Cas squeezes his hands together harder. 

“Well, you know the drill, we’ll get some X-rays, and it’s Garth today. He’s just got a couple consults and then he’ll be in.”

Charlie slips the pen back in her scrub top, leaving the form on the bed beside Dean. Dean turns it towards himself and looks over it before turning it back again. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean cocks his head to the side, “I’m fine, I promise.”

Dean’s words don't ease up the frown across Castiel’s forehead, so Dean jumps off the bed and comes to a crouch before Cas. He places a hand over Cas’.

“Trust me, we see this kind of thing all the time.”

Dean squeezes his hands a last time as they hear someone come back with the X-ray machine. 

The X-ray tech sets it up in no time. It doesn’t take long for a doctor to come in with a black and white film of Dean’s shoulder, the joint too far away from the socket. 

“Gonna be fun popping this back in, Dean-o,” the doctor says and smiles at Dean. 

“Wouldn’t exactly call this fun, Garth.”

Garth puts the film down to examine Dean's shoulder, carefully touching it. Dean still winces. Garth pulls Dean’s shirt by the neck to look down on his shoulder and hums.

Every time Dean winces, Castiel flinches, keeping his eyes on the ground as the doctor finishes his check and Dean answers his questions. 

“You need to be more careful, Dean,” Garth says, stepping back, “we need both of your shoulders working here.”

“I’ll be more careful next time,” Dean says and salutes with his good hand.

Garth rolls his eyes, as if he knows Dean’s not gonna keep his word. 

“It looks like it’ll be one straight pull,” he says. 

“You think so?” Dean asks, his good hand fidgeting with the material on the bed.

“Yup,” Garth nods. “I’m thinking some morphine for pain, and some midaz, pull it back in. You won’t remember anything.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “Can you chart me for some ondanse, too? I don’t wanna vomit. Poor guy has been through enough.” Dean kicks his leg out, the tip of his boot hitting Castiel’s knee. He looks up to meet Dean’s eyes and Dean winks. 

Charlie comes back, and takes out the needle for the IV. Then she sticks it into the crook of Dean’s elbow.

“Oh God,” Castiel breathes out as he sees the blood in the tube of the IV. All the other four people around the bed look at Castiel and he starts to feel warm. Charlie puts a bandage on to secure the IV and then she puts a comforting hand on Cas’ arm. 

“Cas, maybe you should wait outside in the waiting room,” Dean suggests. 

“I’ll follow you out,” Charlie says. She gently pushes Castiel out of the chair and they walk out. 

Castiel opens his jacket fully and takes it off as they walk back. Charlie leads him to the empty side of the waiting room, telling him they’re soon gonna be done. Castiel bunches his jacket into his lap, the rainproof material rustling between his clammy fingers. 

The waiting room is silent and there’s just another woman in there, sitting across Castiel, sniffing and blowing her nose into a Kleenex. The noise is loud in the empty room, but what sounds like a scream takes over and echoes down the hall. Castiel whips his head towards the door he had just walked through, his knuckles white around his jacket. The scream is faint and stops after some seconds. Castiel sits on the edge of his seat, heart beating loudly in his chest, ready to be drowned out by another scream, but it doesn’t come. 

He sits there for ten minutes and then he sees Charlie and a new nurse come through the door. He gets up to meet them but they take his arms and sit down beside him, dragging him down with them.

“How is he?” Castiel asks with a shaky voice.

“Oh, don’t you worry, sweetie, he’s in good hands,” the new nurse says. Her name badge reads Pamela. 

Castiel breathes out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“You must be Castiel?” she purrs, looking up at him from under long lashes and black eyeshadow. 

“Yeah, yes, I am.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Charlie jumps in, her grip on his forearm, comfortable but strong. 

“I didn’t know Dean spoke about me to his colleagues,” Castiel admits, getting nervous about what they might think of him. “What has he said?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Charlie says and claps his arm. “Just that you two go hiking sometimes.” 

Pamela giggles and Castiel turns his head towards her, wondering what’s so funny about that. 

“Well, Dean said he wanted to see you,” she says as her laugh dies out. 

Castiel feels anger boiling in his chest. Why didn’t they just start with that?

All three of them get up and the two nurses lead Castiel back down to the cubicle Dean is in. The curtain is drawn and Castiel hears some low moaning coming from the inside. 

“Charlie,” Dean groans from the inside.

“Yeah, I’m here with Castiel, Dean.” She pulls away the curtain and Cas sees Dean sitting up on the bed, legs sprawled in front of him, his arm in a new sling that looks more sturdy than the one Castiel had made. “You wanted to see him, remember?”

That makes Dean giggle and he gestures for Charlie to come closer. “Did I?”

“He’s still a bit out of it,” Pamela tells Castiel. “Totally normal.”

Castiel watches Dean pull Charlie’s head down so he can whisper in her ear. Dean’s hand covers the back of Charlie’s head, messing up her hair. He pulls away and looks at Cas, his eyes a bit hazy and red-rimmed, before looking back at Charlie and giggling. He leans in to whisper something else, then looks back at Cas and winks, slows and uncoordinated with both eyes, before leaning his head back into the pillow. 

Pamela pushes Castiel into the cubicle with a sly smile, grabbing Charlie’s elbow and dragging her out. Charlie gives Castiel a soft smile and closes the curtains. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean mumbles. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“See, I told you I would be fine,” Dean says and smiles softly. He closes his eyes for a second. “How did you get here? I thought you were in the waiting room.”

“You asked for me,” Castiel sits down in the chair, pulling it a little closer to the bed.

“Oh, did I?” Dean says. 

“Yes.”

“Well, I told you I’d be fine.”

“It didn’t sound like that from the waiting room,” Castiel says and tries to meet Dean’s unfocused eyes.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dean shrugs. “I was pretty tough, I bet.”

“Well, you were screaming.”

“No way, you sure?” Dean asks and leans forward, but then back again when he almost tips off the bed. “Really? I don’t remember that at all.”

Castiel smiles softly and leans back in his chair, a lot more relaxed now that he knows Dean is okay. Dean leans his head back against the top of the bed.

“Cas…” 

“Yes?”

Dean mumbles something more but Castiel doesn’t catch it. He leans in a little closer as Dean mumbles again, but then Dean falls quiet and his breathing evens out. 

Castiel watches the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, listening to the small snores sometimes escaping his lips. 

Time passes quickly like this and Charlie soon sticks her head through the curtains to check up on Dean’s monitor. She takes some notes before slowly waking Dean up, shaking his good shoulder. 

Dean groans and awkwardly stands up, leaning against Castiel, who has come up beside him. 

Charlie checks that the sling is still fastened properly.

“I know you know, Dean, but no driving today, no signing any legal documents, definitely no beer, and ‘cause you’re a dumbass who does dumb shit, no going back to the glacier for a few days.”

Dean hums and reaches up to cup Charlie’s cheek. 

“No doing dumb shit, got it.”

“Missouri will call you tomorrow about your shifts, okay?” Charlie grabs Dean’s hand and brings it down to his side. “You got someone at home with you?”

Dean hums again and nods. Castiel glances over at him.

With Dean’s good arm slung around his shoulders, Castiel walks Dean out to the car, putting Dean into the passenger seat and fastening his seatbelt. 

Getting in the driver’s seat, he pats down his pockets for the car keys before remembering he gave them to Dean. He carefully pats down Dean’s pocket, jacket pockets, inside and outside, until he feels the keys in his pants pocket. He opens the zipper across Dean’s thigh, startling Dean, but he doesn’t open his eyes. The material on his pants is stretched across his thigh and Castiel reaches into the pocket with two fingers to grab the keyring and drag out the keys. 

He puts it into the ignition and takes a deep breath. He can do this. Clutch, ignition, reverse, handbrake, clutch up and gas down. He backs the car out of the spot, grateful for the still empty parking lot. 

It’s easy for Cas to navigate to Dean’s address, but Dean still mumbles the directions every now and then. 

Gently nudging Dean out of his seat, Castiel manages to get him up and walk into the house. Dean collapses on the sofa; Castiel takes off his boots and finds a blanket to put over him, making sure he is covered. 

Castiel takes a glance over Dean, the steady rise and fall of his chest comforting as he sits down in the armchair beside the sofa. 

The blanket over Dean rustles as Dean turns. 

“Don’t tell anyone we drove illegally,” Dean mumbles, pressing the side of his face into the pillow. 

Castiel smiles. “No, of course not.”

Dean hums and snuggles deeper into the couch. After a minute, he opens his eyes slowly and says, “Thanks, Cas.”

Before Cas can answer, Dean has closed his eyes and turned back onto his back. Cas leans over and pulls the blanket properly up over Dean where it had slid down.

“No worries, Dean, no worries.” 

The next day, Cas stands outside Dean's house, balancing a bowl in one hand as the other knocks on the door. Inside, Dean's voice yells that it's open, and Castiel walks in, taking off his shoes in the hallway. On the sofa, in front of the fireplace, sits Dean, feet up and arm in the sling. His jaw is slightly more blue and purple today than yesterday. The fireplace crackles warmly, but Dean is still laying under a thick wool blanket. 

"I brought some soup," Castiel says and walks into the kitchen. "Thought you might need it."

"I need something stronger than soup," Dean answers from the couch. He tries to move to get more comfortable but ends up wincing in pain. 

"How are you?"

"Fantastic," Dean says through gritted teeth. "Never better."

"Sorry you fell into the glacier." Castiel takes out a pot and puts the soup into it to heat it up. 

"Dude, it wasn't your fault. It happens." 

Dean breathes out sharply as he sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist. "And it's not the first time, either, so it's fine."

Castiel turns his back to the stove, absentmindedly stirring the pot as he looks at Dean. 

"You've fallen into a glacier before?"

"Yeah, like three times." Dean stretches his healthy arm. "And about a hundred times for practice. How else would I know how to rescue someone?" Dean asks and tips his head towards Cas. 

"I didn't know you had to actually fall into a glacier to practice rescuing someone," Castiel says and turns back to the stove. The soup begins to bubble and Castiel lets it for a couple of minutes before turning off the heat. He gets a bowl and pours half the pot into it.

"Here you go."

Dean leans forward, taking the spoon from the bowl, and blows on the soup. He brings the spoon to his mouth, carefully tasting. 

"This is really good, are there potatoes in this?" he asks.

"Yes, my father taught me how to make it," Cas explains. "It's good for when you're sick."

"Aren't you gonna have some?" Dean takes another spoonful. 

Castiel sits down beside Dean on the sofa. Dean grabs the end of the blanket and drapes it over Castiel's lap. 

"No, I left the rest of the soup in the pot so you can heat it up when you get hungry again."

Dean straightens up and smiles at Cas. "Thanks."

They sit in silence as Dean finishes his soup before leaning back and settling down on the couch. Their legs bump under the blanket and Castiel pulls away a little to settle against the couch armrest. He brings his legs up in front of him, Dean's thighs so close he can feel his body heat. 

"How long do you have to wear the sling?"

"We usually tell patients a week or two, but," Dean shrugs, "I'll probably take it off after a couple of days."

"Shouldn't you follow the nurses’ instructions?"

"Dude, I'm a nurse."

"That doesn't make you invincible, Dean."

Dean only hums in response. He pulls his legs up onto the couch and mirrors Castiel's pose.

"I'm actually surprised you're still here," Dean smiles. "Thought rescuing me from a painful death would scare you back into the city."

"There's not much more for me to do in the city, so no," Castiel says, "I'm staying here until the beginning of the new year.” Castiel takes a deep breath. “And I need to move out of the house, and I don’t want to do that before Christmas,” he adds.

"Oh.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Oh,” he repeats as he realizes what that meant. “You’re staying that long?" Dean asks, avoiding the subject of Cas’ wife. "You'll be sick of me by then," he laughs. 

Castiel smiles softly, glad to see Dean in a better mood than how he left him yesterday. 

"I think I'll manage," Castiel says, "unless you drag me out on the glacier again."

Dean bursts out laughing, then winces in pain brought on by the sudden movement. He places his good hand on his heart, the angle of the hand weird on his chest. 

"I swear, I will not drag you out on the glacier again." He drops the hand and uses it to pull the blanket over himself better. "Glacier season is over now, anyways."

"I wouldn't mind another hiking trip, though," Cas says. "The one we took last week was really nice."

Dean hums softly and nods. 

Castiel leans his head on the back of the couch, enjoying the slow heat from the fireplace hitting the side of his face. The soup bowl is empty in a few minutes and Cas is happy that Dean enjoyed it. Beside the bowl stand two candles and a small empty vase. Castiel wonders if the vase is usually full. 

"Those are for you," Dean breaks the silence and nods towards the knitting needles and ball of yarn beside the vase. "It was a surprise but now I won't be able to finish them soon anyways."

Castiel lifts himself a little up to look at it.

"What is it?"

"Mittens. It's an old traditional star-pattern," Dean explains. "From Central Europe, I think."

"They're beautiful," Castiel whispers and leans forward to carefully pick them up. "And they're for me?"

"Yeah, you don't have any proper mittens and winter's coming," Dean shrugs.

Castiel folds out the half-knitted mitten and looks at the black and white star-shaped pattern on it. The wool is even softer than the socks Dean had knitted for him, comfortable and airy under his fingers. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, feeling pressure build behind his eyes.

“Dude, it’s just mittens, you’ll get frostbite otherwise.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, just chuckles wetly. 

“I’ll finish them when my shoulder’s better.”

“Thank you,” Cas repeats. 

He puts the half-knitted mitten back on the table and sits back on the couch again. 

“What time is it?”

Castiel checks his wrist watch. “Five twenty-three.”

“Wanna stay for dinner?” 

“That would be nice.”

“Great! I’m making burgers!”

Dean rips off the blanket and plants his feet on the ground.

“How will you do that with that arm of yours?” Castiel asks.

“With your help, it’ll be easy,” Dean grins and pushes himself up from the couch. “Come on!”

Castiel sighs with a smile forming on his lips and gets up to walk into the kitchen. 

Dean cocks his hip to one side as he opens the fridge, his sweatpants low on his hips. He raises one foot to push down the pant leg on the other as he checks for ingredients. His t-shirt slides up his back when he bends down to pick up a head of lettuce. He puts it on the counter and bends down again to get two tomatoes and an onion. 

Castiel stands in the middle of the kitchen completely frozen. Dean turns around, tomatoes in his hand, and raises an eyebrow at Cas. They stand there for a second before Cas feels a blush spread up in his cheek and he goes over to the counter to find a cutting board and a knife. 

A few seconds later, Dean comes to his side and places the vegetables on the board.

“You chop, I’m on grill,” Dean says and opens the freezer to take out some frozen patties. 

He takes out a pan and places it on the oven. By pulling the pack of patties close to his body, Dean manages to open the box with one hand. He scoops up a patty and places it in the pan, the sizzling loud in the small kitchen. 

“One or two?” Dean asks as he places a second patty in the pan. 

“Two, please.”

Dean lets the two last patties stay in the box and takes out a spatula to flatten out the two in the pan.

Castiel has cut the tomatoes in slices and he peels the onion before cutting it too. Dean comes up beside him to rinse the lettuce, struggling to get the water between the leaves with only one hand. Castiel smiles a little when Dean gives up and instead pulls some leaves off to wash them individually. When Dean’s done, he leans back on the counter and watches Castiel cut the rest of the onion. 

“You know there’s a festival next weekend?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel answers and pulls apart some of the onion rings. He puts them on one side of the cutting board, the tomatoes on the other. 

“You should come, it’ll be fun,” Dean says and leans in a bit closer. “Ellen’s gonna have a stand, so you won’t have to struggle up the mountain for her beer.”

“That would be nice to avoid, yes.”

“So you’ll come?” Dean raises his eyebrows. 

“I’ll have to see.” Castiel leans past Dean to rinse his hands in the sink behind him. “Are you going to be there?”

Dean grins. “Of course! You’ll find me with beers and burgers.”

Castiel moves past Dean and picks up the spatula to flip the burgers on the stove. 

“It’ll be super fun, Cas, you’ll love it!”

“It would be nice to see more of the town.”

“Exactly! I’ll show you around!”

Castiel puts down the spatula and looks up at Dean, whose eyes are bright with excitement. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Dean squeezes Cas’ arm. “You’ll love it, I promise!”

Chapter Text

Cas spends almost all of the coming week at Dean’s house, either making food for Dean or with Dean. Dean’s arm slowly gets better and his mobility returns quickly. He takes off the sling after two days but after nearly getting the shoulder dislocated again after bumping into the wall on his way to the kitchen, Castiel suggests he wear it for a couple more days, helping Dean back into the sling while he grumbles on the couch. 

The last two days pass without Dean wearing the sling, which results in Cas sitting on the couch a lot more as Dean busies himself around the kitchen. Castiel goes home that day feeling more of a burden than help, but Dean convinces him it’s no worries and sends him home with a shoulder warm and tingling from where he squeezed it goodbye. 

Castiel walks up to Dean’s door around four pm, taking Dean up on his offer of a light dinner before going to the festival. The door is slightly ajar and Castiel sticks his head in, meeting Dean dressed in scrubs, taking off his shoes.

“Oh, hey, Cas.” Dean bends down and puts his shoes on the rack. “Got a little late at work.”

“It’s okay.”

Castiel opens the door properly and goes into the hallway. He takes off his shoes and puts them beside Dean’s.

Dean walks into the kitchen, placing his bag on the chair by the table. Castiel follows and sits down. 

“Gimme five, I’m just gonna take a shower,” Dean says and walks out of the kitchen, pulling his scrubs top off over his head, giving Castiel a flash of his back as he rounds the corner. Castiel sits up in his seat. He hears Dean turn on the shower, and then some song Cas hasn’t heard before. 

It doesn’t take more than one and half songs before Dean sticks his wet head around the corner, a hand holding a light pink towel around his waist, letting Cas know that he’ll be ready in two minutes.

Castiel watches a drop of water slowly slide down Dean’s neck and pool in the hollow of his collarbone. He swallows hard, meets Dean’s eyes and nods. 

Making dinner would be a lot easier if Dean wasn’t wearing such a skin-tight t-shirt. Castiel is assigned cutting vegetables and that isn’t an easy job when Dean is bending down for the pan and then eggs and milk in the refrigerator, his thighs pressing on the seams of his jeans.  

“Careful.”

“Hm?” Castiel looks up from Dean’s arms and meets his eyes.

Dean only smiles smugly and then points to the cutting board.

“Your fingers.”

Cas looks down, his fingers holding down half a tomato, now under the raised knife. He moves his fingers back and continues to cut the tomato. 

Dean chuckles and turns to get a bowl from the cupboard overhead. In his peripheral vision, Castiel sees Dean’s shirt stretch up, exposing his lower back and the top of his black boxers. 

By turning slightly away, Castiel manages to focus on the vegetables in front of him, trying not to think about Dean’s arms as he hears him whisk the eggs and milk together. He passes the cutting board to Dean when he’s finished and sits down. 

Dean puts the lid on the frittata and they set the table together. 

The clock nears seven when they finish cleaning the dishes, time having run away from them as they both got lost in the conversation. 

Castiel dries the last plate and then Dean ushers him out the door and onto the street.

Castiel fixes his scarf and zips up his jacket as they start walking. 

“Here.” Dean holds out the mittens, now finished. 

Cas takes them and puts them on, the material still warm from Dean’s house.

“Let me,” Dean says and stops in front of Castiel. He folds down the end of the mitten so the mittens won’t be pushed down by Cas’ jacket.

“There you go.”

Dean starts walking again but Castiel stands frozen on the pavement, wrist warm from Dean’s touch. He can’t believe Dean knitted him mittens. They’re even more beautiful now that they’re done.

“Come on, Cas, we’re late!”

Cas catches up with Dean and they walk side by side to the town square. The noise from the festival blows through the streets with the chilly fall wind, and the soft yellow lights lead them straight into the heart of the festival.

“Give me your phone.” Dean sticks out his hand in front of Castiel.

“What for?” 

“Just gimme.” He wiggles his fingers.

Castiel stops and reaches into his pocket for his phone. He unlocks it and gives it to Dean. 

“Here.” He adds his number to Castiel’s contacts. “You have my number.”

He gives the phone back to Cas, the number saved as Dean with a green heart. 

“In case we get split up.” 

Castiel calls the number, hearing Dean’s phone ring in his jacket. 

“Great, now I have yours too!” Dean grins and continues walking. 

They round the corner and the lights explode in Castiel’s vision, yellow and orange and red and green all melting together into a lovely warm fall hue. 

Dean doesn’t stop walking and heads straight over to Ellen’s booth. 

“Cas! Come here!” Dean calls. He waves Cas over to the booth, already holding two cups. “Here, taste this.” 

Cas accepts the steaming cup from Dean and takes a careful sip. 

“It’s good, right?”

Castiel hums approvingly, and Dean smiles and takes another sip from his own cup. 

“Careful there, hon, it's got some kick to it,” Ellen says behind the booth. 

“It’s cider , Ellen,” Dean scoffs and takes another sip. 

Ellen raises an eyebrow, her hand on her hip. “Certainly had you on your ass last time.”

Cas watches Dean blush and chuckles. He takes another sip of his cider. It is dangerously good. 

“Oh, by the way,” Dean gestures towards Ellen and Cas. “Ellen, Cas, Cas, Ellen.” 

“Nice to finally meet you, Cas,” Ellen says and smiles warmly, the cider lukewarm in comparison. 

“You too. Dean talks a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

“Of course.” Castiel smiles as Dean’s face becomes redder still. 

Clearing his throat, Dean turns towards Ellen. “Have you seen Bobby?”

Another couple comes up to the booth and Ellen pours them a drink. Castiel and Dean nod and smile politely. 

“Ash was talking about getting him to stand in his booth, so probably there.” Ellen hands the drinks to the couple and smiles at them before turning to Dean again. “You know how he can’t say no to any of you.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” Dean says and leans over the table to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, you’ve gotta meet Bobby,” he says to Cas, bumping their shoulders together as they start walking. 

The festival is packed, people at every booth, so Dean and Castiel meander slowly through the crowd. Castiel takes off his mittens and puts them in his jacket pocket, letting the warm cider cup heat up his hands.

 They bump into Charlie from the hospital and she promises to catch up with them in the tent later that evening. Dean hugs her, and she squeezes Castiel’s arm before she’s off again. 

They find Bobby in the tin can alley booth, handing some tennis balls off to a kid. 

“Look who got tricked into working,” Dean greets Bobby. 

Bobby glares at him from beneath the peak of his cap before turning to the kid and smiling, letting him know he can throw the balls at the tin cans. The boy misses and Dean pats him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, kid, old man here is a softie, you’ll get a prize.”

Bobby sighs, and Castiel smiles into his cider as Bobby takes out a little pet toy for the boy. 

“You’re not gonna introduce me to your friend?” Bobby asks and nods his head towards Cas. Dean rolls his eyes playfully. 

“Bobby, this is Cas, Cas, Bobby.”

Castiel reaches out a hand and Bobby takes it in a firm grip. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Singer,” Castiel says politely, shaking their hands up and down once. 

“Call me Bobby, son. I don’t wanna hear any of that mister bull,” Bobby says and gives Castiel a warm smile. “I see you’ve already been at Ellen’s.”

“Can’t have a festival without Ellen’s famous cider.” Dean raises his glass and takes the last sip. 

“Keep your eyes on him,” Bobby almost-whispers to Castiel, “or he’ll end up in a ditch somewhere after five glasses.”

Castiel chuckles and looks at Dean’s offended face.

“I heard that!”

“Even better, might do you some good,” Bobby snickers. “You fellas wanna throw some balls?”

Dean looks over at Castiel, sending the question over to him. 

“Why not,” Castiel shrugs and drinks up his cider, setting the cup down as he accepts the tennis balls from Bobby. He hands half of them to Dean and gestures for him to go first. 

Dean throws the two balls quickly one after the other, leaving only a single tin can on the table.

“Too bad you missed that, no prize for you,” Bobby teases. 

“Wait, Cas hasn’t thrown yet!”

The two men both look over at Castiel and suddenly the pressure is much higher than it was. 

“I— I’m not, I won’t be able to hit that,” Castiel stutters and shakes his head. 

“Sure you will.” 

Dean grabs his shoulder to bring it up and out. Castiel can feel the heat from Dean’s hand covering his own as Dean steps behind him and grabs his hand, dragging it back, ready for a throw. Castiel sees Bobby raise a brow but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dean is warm and Castiel leans back into him slightly.

“Got your eyes on the can?” Dean asks, his voice low and soft close to Cas’ ear.

Castiel nods, and Dean counts down from three, his chest hard against Castiel’s back as he leans them forward to throw the ball. The ball hits the side of the can, sending it clattering to the floor. 

“Woo!” Dean jumps up and grabs Castiel’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “Knew you could do it!”

Castiel’s whole body feels alight and warm, and he knows well it isn’t the cider in his stomach. 

“Keep the prize for the kids, Bobby,” Dean says when Bobby gets a pet toy for them. “We’ll see you at the tent later!”

Castiel waves goodbye to Bobby as Dean pushes him further into the crowd, an arm around his shoulders. 

“We need to get another cider,” Dean says and drops his arm from Castiel.

“Are you sure you need another one?” 

“Hey, I’ve only had one! It’s you who should watch out, you don’t know the power of the cider.” Dean bumps into Castiel and goes behind him and on to the other side. 

“According to Ellen and Bobby, you don’t either,” Castiel teases. 

Dean shrugs. “A second one won’t hurt anyone,” he says and winks. “Come on, let’s go get one before everyone moves into the tent.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s elbow and drags him forward against the rest of the crowd going the other way to the tent. 

It’s completely empty around Ellen’s booth when Castiel and Dean finally reach it. 

“You’re lucky, these are the last cups,” Ellen greets them and hands out the final cups. 

Castiel and Dean thank her and hurry back towards the tent to join everyone else. 

When they see the beginning of the queue outside of the tent, they slow down, letting the slow pace of the crowd guide their slow sips and slow steps into the tent. Dean grabs Castiel’s empty cup as they get inside the tent and throws both into the bin by the opening. 

Finding an empty spot at a table is easier said than done, and Dean stopping to talk to everyone isn’t really helping. But Cas isn’t complaining. 

Dean introduces him to everyone and Castiel smiles and shakes their hands. 

“Dean! Dean!” A young boy comes running up to Dean and Dean crouches down to hug him tight. 

“How’s the arm?” Dean asks him when they pull away from each other. A woman with sleek dark hair comes trailing after the kid. 

“Ben, no need to bother Dean,” she says, laying a hand on the boy’s head. “Sorry about that.” 

Dean returns the woman’s soft smile and Castiel watches as something unsaid crosses between them.

“It’s no worries, Lis, you know that.” Dean stands up.

“It’s all back to normal now, Dean. I can finally go on the swings again!” Ben says and practically jumps up and down in excitement. 

“As I said, big guy,” Dean chuckles, “no more jumping off mid-air, though, right?” 

Dean introduces Cas to Lisa, but they don’t get to talk more because the band starts to play and they say goodbye to Ben and Lisa to find some available spots. 

The end of a table is free, and Dean sits Cas down there and goes to get more drinks. The band starts slow, and people are all sitting and talking, most with a cup of something to drink in their hands. The kids run around criss-crossing over the dancefloor by the stage. Cas sees Ben for a second before he’s gone in the swarm of kids. 

Dean comes back with four cups between his hands and a grin from ear to ear.

“I didn’t know if you wanted beer or cider so I got us both.” 

Cas sighs but gives Dean a smile and accepts the two cups. They clink their cider cups together and lock eyes when taking a sip.  

The music and conversations create a soft hum inside the tent and Castiel opens his jacket, the tent getting warmer as people start to walk around more and some even dance. 

Dean swings back his cup and puts it down empty, swaying slightly to the music. Castiel follows and puts his empty cup into Dean’s. 

Dean tells him about some man who came in with unexplained stomach pain which turned out to be a small wood skewer in his stomach.

“I don’t know how the guy didn’t realize he’d swallowed it!” Dean exclaims.

Castiel laughs, his head tipped back, body light like a feather. The band stops playing, the lead singer saying something Castiel misses, but apparently Dean doesn’t and quickly gets up, leaning over Castiel’s shoulder to say something into his ear as the whole tent cheers.

“We need more drinks for this, I’ll be right back.” 

Dean is gone before Castiel can point out that they still have over half their glasses left.

The band starts playing and then everyone erupts into song, singing the beginning of the song before drinking during the music’s pause. The lead singer sings a list of things too fast for Castiel to register.

After the whole tent has done two rounds of drinking, Dean comes back with another four beers, this time in real glasses. He puts them down on the table and sits down. Castiel can see his lips moving but he can’t hear the words. 

Dean leans over the table and Castiel leans in. 

“We’re gonna drink!”

“What?” 

“Drink!”

Dean grabs his half-full cup and Castiel does the same. Grabbing the arm holding his drink, Dean snakes his own arm around Castiel’s, linking their arms by the elbow. Castiel meets Dean’s green eyes, the dark yellow light making them look almost brown. 

Dean gives him one last grin before tipping his cup back and drinking when the music stops and only the singer sings. Castiel does the same, not breaking eye contact. 

The music starts up and Castiel gasps, a soft burn behind his eyes. Dean smiles and untangles their arms, continuing to sing the song. 

Before the music stops again, Dean reaches out his arm again to intertwine it with Castiel’s, and they drink again, this time emptying their cups. 

Dean cheers and Castiel claps his hands, smiling as Dean laughs at something the person next to him says. 

Some people have gathered on the dancefloor, swinging around to the rhythm. A couple of parents dance with their children. 

Dean knocks his foot into Castiel’s, nodding towards their new full glasses. Castiel grabs one, then clinks it against Dean’s before locking arms with him and drinking. 

The music starts again and the whole tent cheers even louder. Dean sways together with the man next to him, screaming out the words of the song. Castiel grabs his glass as the table shakes, someone clapping their hands on the table. 

“This is the last one!” Dean yells over the table and grabs his last beer. 

Castiel reaches out his arm and they start drinking. The singer sings forever and Castiel can’t swallow more. He breaks away to breathe, holding his arm around Dean’s as Dean drains his glass. 

Everyone cheers again as the music slows down and another song starts. 

“Do you want another one?” Dean asks and nods to Castiel’s almost-finished beer. 

“I’m good, thanks.”

Dean smiles and places his elbows on the table. Castiel opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted when the song changes and Dean gasps. 

“I need to find Jo!”

Castiel frowns in question. 

“It’s our song!” Dean explains. And right then Jo comes running up to him.

“It’s our song!” 

Dean laughs and bends down to talk to Castiel.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

His breath is warm against Cas’ ear, and Castiel can almost feel Dean’s cheek against his own. If he only leaned in a little—

Dean pulls back, smiles and lays a hand on his shoulder before he’s off, hand in hand with Jo.

Castiel sees them running out to the dance floor. Dean runs up to the singer and grabs his cowboy hat, and Jo pretends to dramatically fix her boots. When Dean gets back to her side, she stands up and acts surprised before Dean bows and reaches for her hand. Jo accepts and they start kicking their feet and spinning around. 

More people have gathered on the dance floor and Dean and Jo keep going in and out of Castiel’s vision, disappearing behind other people. 

The song speeds up and Dean and Jo kick their feet faster. Everyone around Castiel starts clapping and he joins in. 

"Hey!" Charlie slides into Dean's seat, leaning down onto her elbows. "How's it going?" she asks and raises her eyebrows. 

"It's going okay?"

"So glad to hear!" Charlie puts her hand over Cas'. "He’s usually so sad this time of year."  

She looks out on the dancefloor and nods her head towards Dean and Jo. Castiel glances over to where they link their arms and swing around. 

"Not so bad this year, though," she continues. 

Castiel looks back to Charlie, meeting her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” she chuckles and squeezes his hand. “How are you liking it here, then?”

“It’s very nice, quiet,” Castiel says and smiles. “Everyone is really kind and welcoming too.”

“Yeah, they are,” Charlie trails off. She looks back on the dance floor. Dean and Jo are barely dancing anymore, just jumping up and down to the music and singing the song at the top of their lungs. The song comes to an end and everyone cheers. Dean gives back the cowboy hat and walks back to their table, Jo by his side. She gives him a tight hug and walks the other way before they reach the table. Right as Dean is about to say something to Cas and Charlie, a woman comes up to him. She brushes her hair over her shoulder and touches Dean’s elbow with a soft hand. 

Cas watches as she asks Dean for a dance. Dean looks over at him, asking if it’s okay. Cas looks over at Charlie and she raises an eyebrow. He looks back to Dean.

“Yes, of course.” 

Dean smiles a little and looks over at Charlie, too, before walking out on the dance floor again. The woman places her hand in the crook of Dean’s elbow, letting him lead her. 

“Okay, I’ll see you two later, there’s a girl calling me from the bar,” Charlie says and gets up from the seat. She winks to Cas and then she’s gone, Cas left alone by the table. He puts his elbow on the table and places his chin in his hand, watching Dean wrap an arm around the woman’s back and grab her hand. Dean turns her slowly around as they sway from side to side. She says something in his ear and Dean laughs. The woman sets her chin on Dean’s shoulder and they turn. Castiel meets Dean’s eyes across the room and they smile at each other. Dean says something but Castiel doesn’t know if it’s to him or the woman. He sees Dean laugh, eyes closed and cheeks round, and it’s almost as if he can hear it all the way over from where he’s sitting. 

When the song ends, Dean lets go of the woman and makes his way back to Castiel. He sits down and smiles. 

“How are you?” Dean asks. 

“Good,” Castiel smiles back. “It’s very nice here. I got to talk a little with Charlie. She seems fun.”

“She is.” Dean sighs and rests his head in his hand. “Probably hitting on some girl around here.” He looks around but doesn’t see Charlie. 

They fall quiet, sitting there, swaying gently to the music. Castiel closes his eyes, his head feeling light, the music filling him up. 

“Would you maybe—” Dean starts.

Castiel opens his eyes and looks at Dean.

“Maybe like to—” he tries to continue and looks out to the dance floor. Castiel tries to meet Dean’s eyes but Dean won’t meet his.

Dean takes a deep breath. 

“Another beer?” He looks down at their empty beer glasses. 

Castiel feels a pang of disappointment. 

“I can get us some,” he offers and gets up. He grabs the empty glasses and brings them back to the bar. 

He comes back with two cold new beers but Dean isn’t at the table when he gets back. He looks around and finds Dean on the dance floor again, this time with two kids on his back and three others holding his hands, all dancing in a small circle. Castiel chuckles to himself and sits down, the cold beer in his hands having no chance against the warm fluttering in his chest. 

The kids groan as Dean lets go of them and puts them back down on the floor. He gets pushed back into it several times before he finally breaks free and comes back to the table. 

“Kids, man,” Dean chuckles. 

“They seem to like you.” 

Dean clinks his full beer glass with Castiel’s half-full one and takes a big gulp. 

“I know most of them after giving them their shots this fall.”

“You seem to like them, too.” 

“Of course. Kids are so pure, how could you not like them?” Dean lets his eyes pass over the kids. “Just look at them.”

Castiel does and hums. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur of beer, laughter and new people. Charlie comes back, with another woman draped over her shoulders. She’s had a couple of more beers since last Castiel saw her, and it really put her in a joking mood. Castiel has never laughed so hard in his life. 

Castiel loses count of the beers they drink, but he clearly remembers the three speckles in Dean’s eyes as he laughs at one of Charlie’s jokes. 

When they stumble out of the tent close to two am, Castiel remembers the three speckles turned into a single white fleck in each eye. His and Dean’s shoulders bump as they walk out of the town square, and soon, it is much darker around them, the fairy lights that had been hung up not reaching this far away from the tent. 

“First snow,” Dean says and holds out his hand. A tiny white snowflake lands on his black glove before melting the next second. “It’ll probably melt.” 

Castiel stretches out his hands, able to feel the tiny snowflakes better than see them. Around the lamp posts, Castiel can see the snowflakes in the light, but the ones outside of the light are almost invisible. Dean chuckles as Castiel leans his head back to feel the snow on his face, but he does the same the next moment. 

So they just stand there, in the first snow of the winter, faces turned up to the sky as if waiting for a revelation.

Slowly, they come to a crossroad, and Castiel is going left and Dean right. The lights are dim, just a single lamp post a few feet away. Castiel takes a step closer to see Dean’s face properly, his green eyes dark and with large pupils. 

“Sorry you didn’t get to dance tonight,” Dean says and tips back and forth on his heels.

“It’s okay. I don’t really dance.”

“I wanted,” Dean takes a deep breath, “I wanted to dance with you.” 

“I would’ve liked that.”

Neither of them says anything and the world around them is completely quiet, just the faint noise from the tent far away. Castiel puts his hands in his pockets, feeling cold. His fingertips touch the soft wool of the mittens and he takes them out and puts them on, folding the ends down like Dean had done earlier that day.

“I better get home,” he says and regrets it immediately after the words leave his mouth. 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean mumbles. “Thanks for tonight.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

They fall quiet again, neither of them moving. Dean tips back on his heels again, and then slowly forwards, slightly closer than he had been. 

Castiel watches as Dean leans in even closer, the fog from their breath mixing between them, making Castiel’s cheek slightly damp. 

Dean looks at Castiel before closing his eyes and placing his cold lips against Castiel’s. They warm up quickly against each other, Dean’s cold nose beside Castiel’s.

Castiel can barely move, his arms limp beside him. Dean places a hand carefully on his hip, and Castiel almost doesn’t notice it through his puffer jacket, yet still feels the most grounded he has ever been.

Slowly, Dean pulls away and drops his hand, his lips warm and red in contrast to his white and cold skin. He smiles softly. 

“Goodnight, Cas.”

And then he’s walking away, leaving Cas alone on the pavement under the thousand stars that suddenly all seem so much brighter. 

Chapter Text

The week passes sluggishly with slow, late mornings and even slower afternoons and evenings. Castiel doesn't hear anything from Dean. He keeps thinking back to the festival last week and the kiss. It doesn’t make sense for Dean to ignore him.

Castiel picks up his phone and goes into his message with Dean, with a green heart. There's nothing there, not a single message. 

Castiel drops his phone down on the couch and gets up to make his fifth cup of coffee. 

The machine whirs loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Dean had been right. The snow didn't last, it had melted away right as it landed on the ground. But last night, it had started snowing again, and now, a white carpet lies on the ground outside of Castiel's kitchen window. Castiel sighs as he looks at the light snow falling from the sky. 

He goes back to the couch and picks up the phone, still on the non-existent messages between Dean and himself. Walking back to the kitchen, he types a message. He looks over it and then decides to delete it. 

The coffee machine stops and Castiel pours coffee into his mug. He takes a sip, a single black drop sliding down the mug when he puts it down, and picks up the phone again. He begins the text again. He deletes it. 

There’s a knock on the door. Castiel looks outside at the snowflakes, now bigger than they were a few minutes ago. He puts down the phone, then walks over to the door and unlocks it. 

“Good morning!” Dean grins, snow whirling all around him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Woah, good morning to you too.” Dean’s cheeky smile annoys Castiel.

“You’re not gonna invite me in?” Dean pushes past Castiel and puts down the armful of clothes he’s carrying. He zips down his jacket, the suspenders on his snow pants showing over his purple flannel. 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asks again, almost getting mad at Dean for not having contacted him at all. 

“Hey.” Dean shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Isn’t it allowed to visit one’s friends every now and then?”

Castiel sighs. 

“Fine. Do you want coffee? It’s fresh.”

“Actually, I had something else in mind.”

Castiel walks into the kitchen and grabs his mug. He sits down and takes a sip, cocking an eyebrow when Dean doesn’t continue.

“Fishing!”

“Isn’t that something you do in the summer?”

“Yeah, ‘cause the fish automatically disappear on the first of September,” Dean says sarcastically. “It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t even have clothes for this kind of snow weather,” Castiel says and takes another sip from his coffee.

Dean gestures to the clothes on the floor. Cas looks at Dean and they stare at each other for a couple of seconds. 

“Let me go change.”

Castiel takes a final sip of his coffee, letting it sit half full on the table as he pushes himself up from the chair and walks into the bedroom.

It takes a couple of minutes to put on his wool thermals, jeans and his fleece sweater, and then he’s back out in the living room.

“You won’t need jeans,” Dean says from the chair he’s sat down in. “It makes you colder, actually.”

“Oh, okay.” Cas stands in the middle of the room, feeling unsure about everything he’s wearing.

“Just take them off,” Dean waves his hand. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

Cas opens the button on his pants and shimmies them down his legs, draping the jeans over the couch. He goes to grab the winter pants from the floor and puts them on.

“I think they’re a little tight,” he says as he puts the suspenders onto his shoulders. 

“Nah, they look good.”

“Are you sure?” 

Cas zips the pants up and buttons them.

“Turn around.”

Swinging his arms slightly out, Castiel takes a turn.

“Dude, slower.” 

Castiel turns again, this time slowly. Dean hums.

“Yeah, they fit perfectly,” he says, nodding, arms crossed. “Ready to go?”

“I just need my phone.” 

Picking up his phone, Castiel exits the empty chat with Dean and puts the phone in his pocket. He puts on the puffer jacket Dean brought, takes his mittens out of his windbreaker and puts them in his pockets.

“Before I forget,” Dean stops right by the door, taking something out of his pocket. “You need a hat.”

Castiel almost crashes into him as Dean turns around and pushes a wool beanie down his head, its two strings with bobbles swinging. Cas opens his camera to look at the red, green and blue eighties-inspired wool hat. 

Dean grins when Castiel turns his head to glare at him. 

“It’s cute,” Dean defends. And then he’s out the door and Castiel has no option but to follow.

“Wanna drive?” Dean grins.

“No.”

Dean laughs as if he made the funniest joke in the world. 

They get in the car, Dean in the driver’s seat and Cas in the passenger, and soon they’re on the road, snowflakes shooting past the windows. 

Taking off from the main road, Dean turns left onto a narrow road before driving the car up a winding gravel road. 

The snow on the side of the road grows the further up they go, the road ahead blinding white and untouched until they drive over it. The branches on the pine trees bow under the weight of the snow. Castiel watches as a branch slides over the hood, leaving a trail of snow.

The snow doesn’t seem to inconvenience Dean at all. He still keeps a single hand on the wheel, a thumb drumming softly against the leather. The other arm is resting along the cold window. Keeping the speed at a constant, Dean lets his left leg fall to the side. Castiel watches the material of the snow pants wrinkle on his inner thigh.

Dean stops the car as the road flattens out. He puts his elbow on the center console, his other hand resting on top of the wheel.

“We need to walk the rest of the way,” he says. He turns off the car and gets out. Castiel does the same, walking back to the trunk.

Dean gives Castiel a backpack, this one much smaller than the one he carried on the glacier, and then he gets a small folding chair in his left hand.

Dean puts on his backpack and grabs his own chair in one hand, setting a long drill down on the ground before closing the trunk with the other.

“What’s that for?” Castiel asks and nods towards the drill on the ground.

“I’ll show you when we get there,” Dean answers and picks it up. 

The snow parts under their footsteps, the path they pave like a valley into the woods. Their shoe prints are barely visible in the powdery snow as they drag their feet through ankle deep snow. 

A small river still runs, ice on the edges, and a log over it covered in snow. 

Dean carefully balances over it, the snow falling down into the river and melting. He puts down the drill and stretches out a hand to help Castiel over. With careful steps and Dean’s hand around his, Castiel gets over.

Soon, the trees open up, circling around a big flat area covered in the whitest snow Castiel has ever seen. It’s completely untouched, not even a single animal footprint on it.

Castiel watches as Dean continues out on it. His colorful clothes and the line of footprints behind him intrude on the peaceful landscape, and yet it looks like he belongs out here.

“You coming, Cas?” Dean yells.

Castiel starts walking after Dean, following the trail of his footprints. 

Dean puts his stuff down when he almost reaches the middle, and Castiel reaches him a minute later. 

“Have you ever gone ice fishing before?” Dean asks and picks up the drill. 

“I’ve never fished before.”

“I can work with that.” Dean gets a better grip around the drill and starts brushing away snow with his foot. “So, first we’re gonna make a hole down to the water.” 

“Are we on water now?” 

“Yup.”

“Is that safe?” Castiel asks and takes a step closer to Dean. The ice starts peeking through the snow and Dean brushes the rest of it out of the way, the gray-brown ice smooth under their feet. 

“Yeah, the ice is real thick.” Dean pushes the tip of the large drill into the ice and starts spinning it around. “I’ll go through the safety stuff after we make this hole and can sit down.”

Castiel watches as the blade of the drill turns and sinks deeper into the ice. 

“Here, you try.” Dean stops turning the handles and hands Castiel the drill. Cas places his hands on the handles and starts spinning it. It’s heavy in the beginning but when he gets into the flow, it goes fast, and suddenly there’s no more resistance and the drill sinks down a little. 

“Okay, we’re gonna drag it up,” Dean says and goes to stand opposite Cas. “It’s gonna be wet.” He winks and places his hands over Castiel’s. 

Together, they drag it up, Dean’s strong hands squeezing around Cas’. The wet snow and ice between the blades come up with the drill and some water sloshes up on the ice before sinking back down.

Dean shakes the drill, letting the ice fall off the blades, and then he puts it down on the ground. He moves over to Castiel’s side and opens his and Cas’ little chairs, placing them beside each other.

Castiel crouches down by the small hole, peering down into the darkness. He can’t see any fish but they’re probably under the ice, swimming around.

“Are there big fish here?” He turns his head and looks up at Dean.

“Nah,” Dean says. “We don’t find anything bigger than three pounds here.” He bends down to get something out of the backpack. Castiel stares at his back, the puffer jacket riding up and the flannel underneath showing. “Here.” Dean waves two red sticks with a thread hanging down from each one. He sits down in one of the chairs and Castiel gets up to sit in the other one. Castiel watches Dean sling the thread around his neck. He puts the other one around Castiel’s head. 

“So, these are the ice spikes, you take them out like this,” Dean wraps his hands around one of the sticks and pulls it out of the protective sheath, revealing a sharp spike. “And if you fall into the water, you take both of them out and use them to drag yourself up.”

“But the hole we made is too small for even my foot to fit.”

“The ice can break other places too, Cas,” Dean says and puts the ice spike back in. “But it won’t, it’s safe here.” He gives Cas a reassuring smile. 

“What’s this for?” Cas asks and grabs the little plastic piece at the end of the spike’s sheath. 

“It’s a whistle, but you won’t need it, I’ll be here the whole time.”

Dean gets up from the chair and Castiel plays with the spike, taking it out of the sheath and back in.

“The fishing rod.” Dean hands Castiel a tiny fishing rod and opens a box of bait. Castiel scrunches his nose as Dean puts some onto his fishing rod. 

“You can make it longer,” Dean says and points at the rod. Castiel pulls at it, making the rod twice as long. 

“So you have some bait here, and then you drop the line by pressing down here,” Dean shows Cas the lever on the wheel that keeps the line secured, “then release it to secure the line.” 

Castiel nods and does as Dean says, watching the bait slowly sink into the water. 

“And if you catch a fish, you just reel it up.”

“Got it.” 

“Great!” Dean stands up from his chair. “I’m gonna make another hole for myself over there.”

Dean picks up his chair and the drill and walks a few feet away to make a new hole. 

Castiel sits patiently with his fishing rod, watching what little water he can see, waiting for a fish to bite on. 

When Dean finishes drilling his hole and sits down to fish too, Castiel notices how silent it becomes, how silent it must’ve been before they came. Some snow falls off a tree and lands in the snow, becoming one with the ground with a muted thud. Then it’s silent again. 

Castiel can hear Dean breathe and the rustling of his winter clothes as he moves in the chair. He looks over at Dean, legs stretched out before him, the bright white light making the freckles across his nose stand out against his pale skin, his eyes almost alight as they reflect the white snow. His lips are pink with the cold, and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, dragging a foot towards himself, the other still stretched out. Castiel wonders why he hadn’t texted.

“It’s so nice to relax,” Dean says, and then, as though he read Castiel’s mind, “work has been so hectic the past two weeks.”

“You’ve been working every day?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah, man, we’ve been swamped,” Dean explains and sits up, leaning his elbows on his knees. “First snow, and everything.”

Castiel looks at Dean, not following.

“All that snow we had melted, leaving the roads super slippery when it got freezing again,” Dean continues. “And now, with more snow on top, you can’t even see the ice.”

“So, people are falling and getting injured?” Castiel asks.

“Bingo.”

Castiel hums. 

“It’s a recipe for disaster when it’s like this,” Dean chuckles.

Castiel looks over at Dean again, his lips in a pout as he looks in the water. Cas remembers how cold they were against his own, probably just as cold now, maybe even colder. 

Dean lifts his gloved hand and opens the top of his jacket. He scratches the side of his neck, the hand swiping over his mouth making his bottom lip catch in the glove. Castiel stares at the upper part of Dean’s neck. How warm it is right there, right behind his ear, where throat meets jaw, right at the edge of Dean’s hat and at the end of his jacket. 

Cas swallows hard and brings his eyes back to his fishing rod and the dark water. His thoughts felt so loud in the silence of nature to the point he was scared Dean might hear him. 

“Do you want some hot toddy?”

Castiel startles when Dean speaks. He clears his throat.

“Yes, please.”

Dean smiles and sets his fishing rod down in the snow before walking over to Castiel. He picks up the backpack and takes out two cups and a thermos. Castiel accepts the cup and Dean pours some toddy into it, the steam visible in the cold, crisp air. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles and takes a careful sip. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Dean says softly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I basically jumped you to make you come fishing with me,” Dean chuckles. He puts the thermos down in the snow next to Castiel and goes back to his chair. He doesn’t pick up the fishing rod, though, just keeps his hands around the warm cup. 

“Thanks for bringing me to the festival,” Castiel says into his cup.

Dean blushes. “Oh, yeah, of course, my pleasure. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Yes, I did,” Castiel says and meets Dean’s eyes, the distance between them feeling way too far.

“I bumped into Carmen the other day, actually,” Dean starts, taking his eyes off Cas, “at work.”

“Carmen?”

“Oh yeah. The chick I danced with at the festival, Carmen. She’s a nurse too, works in the OR. She came down to pick up a patient for surgery, got to talking.”

Castiel hums a low tone and looks down into his toddy.

“She actually asked about you,” Dean says in a low voice.

“Oh,” Castiel says. He doesn’t want to talk more about Carmen.

Dean shrugs. “I told her a little about you, just that you’re visiting and that we’re—” Dean glances over to Castiel, “friends.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, not knowing what this all means. 

Dean scratches the back off his neck, making the hat fall down his forehead. He fixes it and puts his hand back on the cup to warm up. 

Castiel glances up to Dean and meets his green eyes before averting his gaze back down to the cup.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling about work now, it wasn’t— Cas, I think you’ve caught a fish.”

Dean points to Cas’ fishing rod starting to move at the tip, then bending towards the water. Cas looks at Dean with big eyes and puts his cup of toddy down in the snow, grabbing the rod with both hands. 

“What do I do?”

Dean laughs. “Just reel it in.”

Castiel tries to swivel the fishing line but it’s stuck. 

“Dean, it doesn’t work.”

Dean laughs again and gets up to Cas, putting his toddy cup down beside Cas’. With a hand on Castiel’s back, he leans forward and puts his hand over Cas’. 

“It’s the other way, buddy,” he chuckles and starts swiveling Cas’ hand. When Cas gets the hang of it, Dean drops his hand but keeps the one on Castiel’s back.

Castiel leans back into Dean’s hand as he pulls the fishing rod, the fish dangling in the air over the ice.

“Just lay it here,” Dean says, crouching down on the ice. 

Castiel gently lowers the rod, the fish sprawling and flopping on the ice. Dean takes off his gloves and grabs the fish, carefully removing the hook from its mouth. 

“Nice size on this one.”

He leans over to the backpack and gets out a knife. 

“You might want to look away, I’m gonna kill it.” Dean looks over at Cas, waiting for him to turn. When he doesn’t, Dean just shrugs and knocks the fish on the head with the knife handle. The hollow sound makes Castiel squirm in his seat, unlike the fish that now lies still in Dean’s hand. 

“This will be great for dinner,” Dean grins and places the fish to the side. 

“We’re having dinner?”

“No, I just like killing fish,” Dean sighs. “Of course we’re having fish for dinner, Cas.”

“So we’re having dinner?” Cas asks again. 

“Yes, of course.” Dean puts his gloves in his pocket, and with his hands on his knees, he gets up with a small groan. “I brought spices and everything,” he grins.

He picks up his toddy, now lukewarm from the snow. Swallowing the rest of it, Dean walks over to his chair and picks up his fishing rod.

For two hours, they sit there in mostly silence, sometimes talking about the glacier, or Dean telling Castiel a story from work, or Cas telling him about his stay so far. 

Sometimes Dean fills the silence with humming, and when Castiel asks what it is, Dean tells him about his favorite band, Led Zeppelin, and how it had been his mother and father’s favorite band too. 

“It reminds me of them,” Dean says lowly and stares at the fishing line disappearing into the dark water. “I’ll play some songs when we get back to the car.” He turns his head to Cas and smiles softly. 

“That sounds nice.”

In the end, Castiel gets one more fish and Dean gets three. They pack up the fishing rods and Dean takes out the travel kitchen, the same they used on the glacier. 

This time, Castiel is a bit more helpful, knowing how to assemble the camp stove and the pan. 

“I’m betting you haven’t gutted a fish either?” Dean asks and puts the fish a little away from where they’re sitting. 

Cas shakes his head, watching as Dean takes out the knife again. 

“Do you want to do it?”

Castiel hesitates. “Can I watch you do it?”

“Sure thing, bud.” Dean takes out a sitting mat and places it under his knees. He takes out another and places it beside himself, patting it. “Get a little closer so you can see.”

Castiel gets up and sits down on the mat beside Dean. The fish stares lifelessly up at Castiel with big round eyes. 

Dean grabs the first fish, cutting off the tails and fins. Then he starts scraping the scales, making silver flecks in the snow. 

“Ready for the big cut?” Dean asks, holding one of the fish on its back. Castiel swallows and nods. 

“Knife, please,” Dean chuckles and cuts under the fish’s head. Castiel looks away as Dean breaks the neck, but he turns back to see Dean cut open the stomach and scoop out the intestines. Dean’s bloody hands work quickly inside the fish’s gut, and after he rips out the gills, the first fish is finished. The next ones go just as quickly, and Castiel watches intently as Dean’s fingers work under the intestines and drag over the pink flesh of the fish. Dean tips the fish’s head back, the blood red gills in stark contrast to the white snow. Dean grabs them, holding the fish down, and rips them out with a little groan. 

“Do you want to do the last one?” 

Dean puts down the gills with the other intestines in the snow, the snow red and pink around them. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dean reassures. “I can help you through it.”

Castiel nods carefully and gets up on his knees a little closer to Dean and the fish. 

“Just grab the head here, and pull it backwards to break it,” Dean explains, showing how to hold the fish. Cas grabs it the same way as Dean did and presses the head back until he hears a crunch. The fish is smooth and soft under his fingers, and he puts it down, fingers painting the snow light pink. 

“And then you cut it up just like I did.” Dean turns the knife, giving it to Cas. “Careful,” he warns when Cas starts cutting a bit too violently. 

The sharp knife is smooth over the fish’s belly and opens up the abdomen, revealing the intestines. 

“Clean out the intestines,” Dean says and comes closer to Cas to hold the fish open for him as Cas tries to pick out the intestines. 

“It’s easier if you do it like this.” Dean takes Cas’ hand and presses it into the fish’s abdomen, under all the intestines and drags it from the head to tail, all the intestines coming loose. When Dean lets go, there’s a bloody smear from his hand across the back of Castiel’s. 

“Great!” Dean sits back. “Just rip out the gills and we’re good to go.”

Cas tips the fish’s head back and exposes the red wings. He closes his fingers around them.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Cas pulls the gills out, struggling a bit to get it all, but he succeeds after Dean helps him position his hand a little better.

“Can you get that big water bottle from there?” Dean asks and stands up, fish intestines in hand. 

Cas gets up, too, and wraps his bloody hand around the water bottle. Dean drops the intestines down the hole in the ice and gets back to Cas. 

“Pour some water here,” Dean says and opens up the abdomen of the fish so Cas can clean it out. 

After cleaning the fish they clean their hands, blood slowly coming out of the grooves in their hands. 

Dean gets out the spices and starts putting them on the meat of the fish. 

“I think using a bit more of the parsley and not so much dill would be better,” Cas says slowly. 

Dean raises an eyebrow but takes the herb from Cas’ hand and uses that instead of the one he was holding. 

“Who taught you to cook?” Dean asks and rubs the herb into the fish.

“My father.”

“Sounds like a good dad,” Dean says and puts some butter in the pan, making it sizzle before putting in the fish. 

“Yeah, he was,” Cas mumbles and looks down at his hands. Some of the fish’s blood has dried underneath his nails and he tries to get it out. “One day he just left. I don’t know why.”

Dean looks up from the fish cooking in the pan and meets Castiel’s eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear, Cas.”

Castiel hums and changes the subject. He points to the fish in the pan.

“How long does it take to cook?”  

“It usually goes pretty fast, so you can get the plates out,” Dean says, giving Cas a sad look but still letting him change the subject. 

In ten minutes, the fish is cooked and ready on their plates. Dean had cut off the heads and Castiel was glad because he could not have his food staring up at him from the plate. 

Dean shows him the easiest way to get the meat off the skeleton, putting his fork close to the spine and sliding it off the bones. Castiel puts his fork in the fish and the meat slides easily off, only a few bones still sticking to the meat. As Castiel uses his fingers to pick them out, Dean lets out a loud moan.

"Oh my God, Cas," Dean says around a mouthful of fish. "Marry me, this is so good!"

Cas stares at Dean, unsure if he heard correctly. Dean takes a few moments before he notices.

"I mean, I was joking," he swallows the fish, "It was just a joke. You'd make a good husband, you know, food and cooking and—  it was just a joke."

Castiel blushes and mumbles a thank you before putting the fish in his mouth. It really does taste as good as Dean says. 

Dean doesn't say anything else as they finish their dinner, and Castiel doesn't mind the silence now that Dean is much closer than when they were fishing. 

Dean is leaning down, elbow on his knees with the plate in his left hand as he eats. His jacket is still unzipped at the top, and Castiel stares at his Adam's apple as it bobs with another swallow. 

The white bright light turns gray as day turns into dusk, and they pack up the kitchen and plates. Closing the backpacks, Castiel looks over the now dark forest, the light so low he can't see past the first row of trees. 

Dean touches his shoulder, asking if he's ready to go back, and Castiel nods. 

Their footprints from five hours ago are still visible, and they follow the path back to the car. They dump all of their stuff in the trunk as the light goes from gray to dark blue before almost turning pitch black. 

Castiel sits down in the passenger seat, Dean starting the car beside him. Cas looks out the window at the nature, so beautiful before but now almost more ominous and scary in its dark colors. He sighs low and curses nature for making the day so short. 

Chapter Text

Castiel’s days blur together in a haze, mostly spent on the couch, or in the kitchen making cup after cup of coffee. 

He signed the divorce papers that had been sitting on the table for a week, and mailed them back to Seattle, finalizing his divorce. Daphne hadn’t reached out since the first letter she had sent a month ago, and Cas was glad. He’d deal with things after Christmas.

After that, the days slowly crept by, and suddenly it had been a week since the last time he saw Dean. Dean texted him, small messages here and there, telling him it was hectic at work, letting Castiel know he should wash his hands and sneeze in the crook of his elbow with flu season in full swing. Not that it mattered that much to Castiel; he hadn't left the house for anything other than groceries, and that was two days ago. 

The next week went even slower as Castiel finished the last book he brought, and then the bad crime novel the previous tenant had left on the nightstand. He kept rereading the messages from Dean, waiting for Dean’s break to start and the texts that would usually follow. He knew Dean’s schedule by now, and he knew Dean wouldn’t answer for another hour and a half. At least.

When it started snowing the next day, it didn't stop, making the front door almost impossible to open when Castiel went out for groceries again. His ankles got wet as the snow stuck to his pants and melted, but it was all worth it when he bumped into Dean on his way home after a night shift, his light green scrubs vibrant against the ankle-deep snow. Their cold fingers and toes were grateful for the warmth from a coffee shop, even if their noses and cheeks were still as pink as before they went inside. 

They stood outside the coffee shop, warm coffee between their hands, Dean’s coffee with a gray lid for decaf. Cas didn’t want to say goodbye, but Dean was shivering in his thin scrubs, so Castiel said goodbye and Dean smiled like the sun and softly touched Cas' elbow. Castiel watches Dean jog across the street and around the corner before turning his head down, seeing his puffer jacket expand back to how it was before Dean slightly squeezed his arm. 

That morning felt longer than the whole week before, and Castiel walked back home in a daze, his toes cold and wet. But it didn't matter. Dean probably fell asleep after getting home because he didn't reply to Castiel's message thanking him for the coffee. 

Dean doesn't answer the text until the next day, apologizing for the late reply. Castiel's hands start shaking slightly as he continues to read the message where Dean says he'll be busy until Christmas but that Cas is more than welcome to celebrate Christmas with him, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. 

Castiel puts the phone down on the table and walks over to the coffee machine to pour himself another mug. He doesn’t have any formal clothes here, they’re all back in his old house; he doesn’t know what to buy for Bobby or Ellen or Jo. And he definitely doesn’t know what to give Dean. 

Three coffees later, he still has no idea what to give Dean, but he picks up the phone and shakily writes out a reply, accepting the invite. 

Castiel pours another cup of now lukewarm coffee and downs it in three gulps. The date on his phone shows it’s the sixteenth of December. Only nine days to find Dean a gift. 

The next few days, Castiel spends more time out of the apartment than inside. He finds a decent shirt and suit pants, and two days later, all the gifts are ready too. 

Downtown has been decorated in soft, yellow lights and pine wreaths hanging everywhere. With his groceries in one hand and a Christmas wreath in the other, Castiel walks under the lights, Christmas music streaming out of every door that opens. 

Before Cas unlocks his door, he hangs the wreath on it. He puts the bag of groceries on the table, taking out the wrapping paper and ribbon before putting the groceries away. 

Castiel had asked Dean what he should bring, but Dean had reassured him that they would make more than enough food to eat, and all he had to bring was his best mood, as Dean had put it. In some ways, it’s a relief knowing he doesn’t have to prepare anything, but that means that after wrapping the gifts, he has nothing to do but wait. 

But the days pass, and on the 25th, Castiel knocks on Bobby’s door a little before noon, looking down at himself to make sure the shirt is sitting correctly.

“Merry Christmas!” Dean exclaims as he opens the doors. His Christmas apron almost blinds Castiel with its bright colors. 

“Merry Christmas,” Castiel says back, not as enthusiastic as Dean. 

“You came at the perfect time, just put the turkey in the oven.” Dean nods towards the inside. “Come on, let’s get you a drink!”

Cas stomps the snow off his boots and takes hesitant steps into the hallway. He sets the bag of gifts down and takes off his boots. 

“What’ve you got in the bag?” Dean asks over his shoulder as Castiel follows him into the kitchen. 

“Just some gifts.”

“You know you didn’t have to, right?” Dean picks up the whisk from the bowl on the counter and starts whisking. 

Castiel only shrugs and puts the bag of presents on the kitchen chair. 

“Where are the others?” he asks as he takes the chair beside the presents. 

“Bobby is just getting changed, and Ellen and Jo will be here soon.” 

Castiel hums. Feeling uneasy about having Christmas dinner with Dean’s family, he looks down at his hands where they lie in his lap. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Dean picks up the bowl while still whisking and walks over to the table with it. 

“Here, whisk this,” Dean says and hands Castiel the bowl. “We want stiff peaks.”

He walks over to the pantry and takes out a bag of potatoes.

“I’m not trusting you around sharp objects again after you almost chopped off a finger,” Dean chuckles. 

“I was distracted,” Cas grumbles back. “I know how to peel potatoes.”

“Yeah, sure you do, city boy.” Dean picks up a potato and starts to peel it. 

The room falls quiet, the metal whisk clinking low against the plastic bowl as Cas whisks the sugar and egg whites. 

“The eggnog finished yet?” Cas hears a deep voice rumble outside of the kitchen. Bobby Singer walks through the door in a nice clean flannel, but with his baseball cap still on. 

“In the fridge,” Dean answers without looking up from the potatoes. “Just stir it a little first.”

Bobby greets Cas and goes over to the fridge, taking out the big bowl of eggnog. 

“Cas, do you want a glass?” Dean asks and looks up, half-peeled potato in his hand. 

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel responds. “I think the meringue is ready now.”

Dean finishes peeling the potato and drops it down in the bowl with the others. He comes over to Cas with a tin.

Cas slides his chair slightly to the side, letting Dean get easier access to the table. 

“Hold the bowl over here,” Dean instructs and grabs a spatula. “You have to stand up.”

Cas gets up and holds the bowl over the tin for Dean. Dean places a hand gently over one of Cas’ where he holds the bowl in the air. Gently, he scoops the meringue out and into the tin, smoothing it out. 

When Cas lets the bowl dip too close to the meringue in the tin, Dean grips his own hand around Cas’ a little harder, lifting the bowl up. 

Cas shifts his balance from one foot to the other, watching the tip of Dean’s tongue between his lips as he focuses on making the pavlova smooth. 

Bobby comes up beside Cas and puts the eggnog glass down on the table, making Castiel bump into Dean. He mutters a sorry, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice, too busy with the cake. 

“Looks perfect!” he exclaims, and takes a lick of the spatula. “Great job, Cas!”

He tips the spatula forward to Cas, and Cas hesitantly leans in when Dean urges it closer to his mouth. He closes his lips around the tip of it, beside where Dean had just licked it. The meringue is sugary and sticks to his lips as Cas slowly pulls away from the spatula. 

“Good, right?” Dean asks, his soft green eyes smiling. 

Cas hums in agreement, dragging a finger on the side of his lips to get the rest of the meringue. 

He catches Bobby’s look and takes a step back from Dean, sitting down at the table again. Dean doesn’t notice and busies himself with the pavlova, carefully placing it in the oven. 

The doorbell rings but before any of them have time to get up, Ellen and Jo enter the kitchen, bags rustling around their legs. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Ellen exclaims and places the bags on the floor, going in for a hug and kiss on Dean’s cheek. Dean squirms as his cheek is smushed by Ellen, but laughs and gives her cheek a kiss in return.

Jo puts down the dish she’s carrying and wishes everyone a merry Christmas, but instead of a hug, Dean gets a punch in his arm. 

Castiel chuckles into his eggnog.

Dean quickly tells Ellen what needs to be done with the potatoes as he goes to check on the turkey under the foil on the counter. 

“So,” Jo starts and sits down next to Castiel with a glass of eggnog, “how long are you staying here?”

“I’m leaving after New Year’s,” Castiel says quietly and takes a sip from his glass. He empties it and puts it on the table, folding his hands in his lap. 

“You should come back, the skiing trips over the mountains are very nice.”

“The ice caves are cooler, though,” Dean adds from where he stands with his back to them. He turns around, brown pie filling dripping from the whisk in his hand. “You should definitely come back for that, skiing is boring anyways.”

“You only say that because you suck at it,” Jo rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t,” Dean huffs. “You suck at it too,” he murmurs and turns back to the pie filling. 

“Okay, calm down, kids, no fighting on Christmas,” Ellen snickers. 

Dean and Jo’s little fight seems to break some of the tension Castiel felt hanging in the air. Now, the conversation flows comfortably between the four walls of the kitchen. 

In less than an hour, Dean and Ellen finish the last preparations for dinner. They refill their glasses with eggnog and go out in the living room.

Bobby and Ellen sit down in their armchairs. Dean jumps forward, grabs a gift from under the tree, and passes it to Ellen. 

“From me and Jo,” he says and crosses his legs on the floor. Jo sits down on the couch and Cas follows, folding his hands in his lap. 

Ellen opens the gift, laughing as she sees the picture frame.

“I think it will look perfect on the mantel,” Dean laughs. 

Ellen turns the frame so everyone can see the picture of her and Bobby in their twenties, each on a horse, both wearing cowboy hats. 

“I shouldn’t have let you two go through the old photo albums,” Bobby grumbles.

Jo leans in to look at the picture closely.

“Your tits look great in that bikini, mom,” she says and laughs.

“Joanna Beth!”

That only makes Jo laugh harder. 

“You’re not wrong, though,” Ellen mumbles and takes a closer look at the picture. She gets up and places it over the fireplace with the other family pictures.

In a lazy tempo, they open the gifts, and Castiel is relieved Dean likes the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt he got for him.

“Here, Cas,” Dean reaches under the tree for a big gift, “this is for you.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows in surprise, but leans forward to accept the gift from Dean. 

The wrapping paper has small reindeer on it, and Castiel rubs his thumb over one of them.

“Come on, open it,” Dean smiles, giddy with excitement. 

Castiel looks up and gives Dean a small smile before flicking open the tape on the side. He peeks inside the gift and sees some blue wool. Carefully, he drags it out of the paper and into his lap, unfolding the sweater. 

Cas sucks in a breath, taking in the dark blue wool and red pattern around the neckline and shoulders. The sweater is soft and warm in his hands, and Castiel feels tears welling up behind his eyes. 

“I couldn’t remember seeing you in anything other than a fleece sweater, and wool is much better for keeping warm, so I thought—” 

“Thank you, Dean, it’s beautiful.”

Dean only smiles back.

“Well, try it on, then,” Jo nudges Cas’ arm. 

Cas pushes his arms through the sweater and pulls it down over his head. It’s a bit looser than his fleece sweater but so much warmer. He wraps his arms around himself, feeling the soft material all around him. 

“Thank you,” he repeats, and Dean only smiles brighter. 

The others keep opening the last presents but Castiel is unable to focus on any of it. 

Dean had knitted him a sweater. 

Jo laughs at something Bobby says and Cas looks over at Bobby putting on some new knitted wool socks. 

“Only thing that was missing from the old man look, Bobby,” Dean says and throws his head back in a laugh. 

Bobby takes off his cap and throws it at Dean, making him laugh harder. 

Cas chuckles, taking in the warmth from the sweater and the company. 

After all the presents are opened, they all help to lay the table and Dean brings out the turkey. 

“It smells delicious, Dean,” Ellen says, grazing a hand over his shoulders as she passes to get to her seat. 

Dean places the turkey in front of Bobby, letting him cut it for them. Everyone gets a piece and Cas gets the task of serving everyone some wine. 

The different dishes pass smoothly between the five of them, not interrupting the conversation and laughs that roll comfortably out of them. 

When they finish their dinner, Ellen lets them know that the kids should clean the table. Jo murmurs a ‘we’re not kids’ but gets up anyway and collects the plates. 

“Dinner was really nice,” Castiel tells Dean as he dries a pot Dean handed him, the arms of the wool sweater pushed up to his elbows. Jo is getting the rest of the dishes from the table. 

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.” Dean smiles and hands Castiel another pan. 

“Your family is very kind and welcoming.”

Dean lets out a soft sigh. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again.

“Thanks,” he ends up saying. “You should’ve gotten to meet Sam, too, but he’s celebrating with his in-laws this year.”

Castiel hums and accepts the last pan from Dean. 

Jo brings in the last dishes, puts them in some tupperware and then in the fridge. 

“Done,” she says and claps her hand together. “I’m gonna go change.” And with that, she walks out of the kitchen. 

Cas looks over at Dean as he puts the pan back into the cupboard. 

“Dean?”

Dean hums but doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning over the bench. 

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Yeah, I realized I forgot to tell you we eat our dessert and watch movies in pajamas.” 

Dean looks up and leans his hip on the counter. 

“So I brought some extra pajamas for you.”

“Oh.” Castiel drapes the damp towel over the oven handle. “Thanks,” he says softly. 

“Of course,” Dean smiles. “Couldn’t leave you out of the holidays traditions.”

He grazes Cas’ arm as he walks out the door, leaving Cas in the empty kitchen. 

“You coming?” Dean pops his head around the corner. “Unless you want to change in the kitchen?”

Castiel laughs and follows Dean down the hall. 

“You’re gonna be sleeping here, in Sam’s old room,” Dean tells Cas and points to the second door they pass. “And this is my old room.”

Cas stands by the door as Dean enters and brings out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, handing them to Castiel. 

“Feel free to change in the bathroom or your room,” Dean says and gives Castiel a reassuring smile. 

Cas thanks Dean and goes into his room, taking off his shirt and suit pants before pulling on the blue flannel pants. 

The room is plain, but there’s a couple of Stanford posters on the wall over the desk, and an old picture of two kids. Castiel walks over to it, seeing a much younger Dean and a kid that looks like the man in the graduation gown on Dean’s fridge. Carefully, Castiel looks at the back, smiling at the ‘96 written there. 

He walks back to the bed where his clothes lie beside the t-shirt that he pulls over his head. The jumping angel on the front is faded and a bleak gray but the fabric is still soft. 

Castiel runs his fingers through his hair a couple of times before walking out of the room. Dean is outside in the hallway already, leaning back against the opposite wall, red and green pajama pants on with the t-shirt he had gotten from Cas.

“Perfect, looks great,” Dean says, looking up Castiel’s body. 

“Thanks.” Castiel scratches his arm, feeling underdressed. “You too.” 

He didn’t expect Dean to blush, but smiles when redness blooms over his face. Their eyes meet and Cas grins. 

“Thanks,” Dean croaks out and gestures for Cas to walk back into the kitchen. 

“Can you take out the cream?” Dean asks, his voice back to normal range. 

Castiel opens the fridge and takes it out, handing it to Dean who pours it into a jar. He screws the lid shut and hands the jar to Cas.

“Shake it for a couple of minutes.”

Castiel shakes the jar as Dean moves between the fridge and the cake to cut up berries. The kitchen is silent except for the occasional cutting and the cream whipping inside the jar. Bobby, Ellen and Jo can be heard in the living room; sometimes they laugh and it carries out into the kitchen. 

“I think it’s done now,” Dean says, looking at the jar. Castiel hands it over and Dean looks over it before scooping it out onto the pavlova. He tops it with the berries and some chocolate and takes a step back to admire the cake before he carries it out to the living room. Cas follows with the plates and spoons. 

“What, are you afraid you’re gonna run out?” Jo says as Dean cuts her a piece. Dean chuckles and moves the knife to cut a bigger piece. 

When everyone gets a big piece of pavlova on their plates and sits comfortably in their seats, Jo puts on A Wonderful Life . 

“Have you seen this one?” Dean leans over to Cas and almost-whispers. 

Cas shakes his head and takes another bite of his cake. 

“What?” 

“I’ll just go ahead and put the subtitles on already,” Jo sighs and side eyes Dean. 

“What do you mean you haven’t seen it?” Dean goes back to whispering. “It’s a classic!”

“We just never watched a lot of Christmas movies when I was a kid,” Castiel shrugs.

“That’s it, we’re having a marathon tomorrow.” Dean turns his head back to the screen, and Cas watches his profile for a minute before turning back to the screen with a small smile on his lips. 

When the movie finishes, they put on another one that Cas hasn’t seen either, The Holiday . Dean says the beginning is so heartbreaking that he volunteers to clean up after dessert. He comes back fifteen minutes later with three bowls of popcorn. 

Handing one to Jo and one to Ellen and Bobby, he sits down beside Castiel, placing the last bowl between them. 

Cas tries to not bump his hand into Dean’s so often but Dean makes it difficult by always reaching for more popcorn when Castiel is. 

Dean hums along as Kate Winslet runs through the giant house, and Castiel smiles at the whole situation, feeling so grateful for having someone to celebrate Christmas with. 

Ellen and Bobby say goodnight and go to bed after the movie ends. Jo moves from the other couch and sits in front of Dean, letting him play with her hair as they talk about the coming winter season on the glacier. After a while, the conversation dwindles and Dean starts humming a Christmas song as he braids a loose french braid on Jo. She dozes off against Dean’s leg and after a big yawn, she heads to bed too.

“Thanks for tonight,” Dean says, turning towards Cas. 

“You did most of the work, so thank you, Dean.”

“Your company was a lot of help too.” Dean looks down on his hands. “It was nice having you around.”

Castiel feels heat rise from his neck and up his face. 

“I’m gonna head to bed, it’s almost one am,” Dean says and gets up from the couch. “You coming?”

Castiel looks up to Dean. His eyes are glinting in the soft light from the tree and Castiel wishes he would kiss him.

He gets up. Their toes almost touch and Castiel can feel as much as hear Dean suck in air. For several seconds, they stand there, looking at each other, until Dean lets out a shaky breath.

“Goodnight, Cas.” 

He smiles softly and Castiel wants to reach out and touch him.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

And then Dean is taking a step back and walks into his room. Castiel stands there for a minute and it feels like he can’t breathe. 

With slow and silent steps, he goes into the room beside Dean’s. He takes off the pajama pants, lays them down on the chair by the desk, and gets into bed. It’s chilly, so Castiel drags the comforter up over his shoulders. Dean’s bed is probably warm already. 

Castiel lies in bed staring at the dark ceiling. He can’t sleep. The wind is loud outside, but Cas is warm under his comforter. The entire house is quiet, and his breaths feel louder than usual in the small room. 

Cas turns on his side, the comforter rustling as he wraps it over his shoulders and stretches his legs out. The door is almost closed, a thin line of soft light coming through, lighting up a sliver of the drawer beside Castiel’s bed. 

He stares at the light, then tries to close his eyes, but it glows yellow through his eyelids, so he opens them again. The deep breath he takes feels extremely loud and Castiel slowly lets it out. Wrapping the comforter even closer around his body, he watches the dust in the light fly in the air. 

Dean is probably asleep now. 

Castiel rolls onto his back and puts his arms over the comforter, sighing. He holds his breath, the silence even louder as he lies completely still, chest expanded by air. 

With a whish, he lets it out and rips off the comforter, setting his bare feet on the cold floor. He takes a deep breath and gets up, slowly pushing the door open, lights flowing into the room. Pulling his t-shirt sleeve down over his shoulder, Castiel walks out of the room. 

The hallway is chilly and goosebumps rise on Castiel’s bare legs. He walks into the kitchen and carefully takes down a glass from the cupboard, not letting it clink into the other glasses. Turning the tap on, the water running slowly and quiet into the sink, Castiel lets it become cold before filling up his glass. He swallows the water in big gulps, sighing as he finishes it. 

Cas places the glass on the counter and walks through the kitchen and into the living room, the Christmas tree glittering in the dark. There are no presents underneath it now, just the Christmas tree with lights and red and green and gold ornaments. 

Castiel sits down on the floor in front of the tree and crosses his legs, hands rubbing over his thighs to keep a little warmth in them. He reaches a hand out to touch the pine needles on the lower branches. Dragging his hands towards the end of the branch, Cas feels the needles soft and tickling against his palm.  

He drops his hand and puts it in his lap with his other, thumbing at the seam of his t-shirt. On the left, there’s a small hole by the seam. It still smells slightly like Dean. 

Castiel sighs, touches the little nutcracker ornament, the glitter coarse underneath his fingers, shining in the Christmas lights. He gets up and stretches, his back popping. 

Castiel sighs again and pushes the scrunched-up legs of his boxers down his thighs. Taking a final glance at the tree, Cas walks out of the living room and back down the hallway to his room. He looks in on his empty bed, the comforter hanging halfway over the end of it. 

Down the hall, he hears a deep breath. Pushing away from the door frame, Castiel tiptoes over to the half-open door at the end of the hall. He peers in, seeing the lump of a person under the comforter rise and fall. 

Castiel carefully takes the door handle and slowly pulls the door closed. When the door is almost closed, the hinges give a high-pitched creak. 

The bed rustles. "Can't sleep?" 

Castiel opens the door again and meets Dean's eyes in the dark. His face is barely visible, but Castiel sees the small smile on his face. 

"No," Castiel says and shifts his weight from the left foot, resting his hip on the doorframe. His shadow falls inside the room, moving as he does.

They are silent for a minute and Castiel grabs his other arm, feeling awfully naked in the bright light from the hallway. Castiel looks down and picks at a loose thread at the end of his t-shirt sleeve.

Dean moves and a spring in his mattress squeaks. Cas glances up, seeing Dean at the far end of the bed, his arm holding the comforter open. He isn't wearing a t-shirt, and Cas sees him slightly shiver as he keeps holding the comforter up. 

Castiel just stands there against the door frame, and when Dean shakes the comforter a little, he pushes away from the door frame and takes his first steps into the room. 

The bed creaks and dips under Castiel's weight as he sits down. He leans back and puts his feet up into the bed and under the comforter. 

Dean drops the comforter over Cas and they just lay there quietly, side by side, not touching. 

Cas breathes quietly, feeling the comforter rise a little as Dean breathes. Dean is warm and Castiel feels it radiating into his back. 

“Thank you,” Castiel says after another minute of silence. 

Dean adjusts, the bed creaking. Castiel slides a little back to the middle as the bed dips under Dean’s weight. 

“For what?”

Cas takes a deep breath. 

“For everything.”

Dean hums and Castiel feels him move behind him. Then a warm but unsteady hand touches his arm. Castiel holds his breath. Dean doesn’t do anything else, just keeps his hand on Castiel’s upper arm. 

“Of course,” Dean says. 

His hand burns against Castiel’s skin, and he feels the warmth spreading out from the hand down to his fingertips and up into his shoulder and chest. Carefully, Cas raises his own hand and places it over Dean’s, tangling their fingers together. 

Dean sighs and moves a little closer, their feet bumping. He rubs his thumb across Castiel’s knuckles. 

“Cas?”

Castiel hums but Dean doesn’t say anything more. Castiel turns. Dean is up on one elbow, much closer than Castiel thought. 

"Yes?" 

Dean doesn't say anything, just keeps his eyes on Cas. He grips Castiel's hand a little harder and pushes it back from where it hangs in the air and down against the mattress beside Cas' head. 

"Dean, is everything oka—"

Castiel gets interrupted as Dean leans down, now sharing the same air as Cas, lips inches away from Castiel’s. His breath hitches in his throat, and he squeezes Dean's hand. Dean's eyes are dark, and Castiel can barely see the green with the light so low. 

He tilts his head up, and Dean leans down the rest of the way, their lips meeting. 

Castiel hums and wraps his free hand around Dean's bare chest. Dean lets go of Cas' hand and tangles his fingers into Cas' hair, making Cas gasp. Dean takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss. He moans when Castiel pulls him down onto him, slotting his knee between Castiel's legs. 

Castiel breathes hard when Dean pulls away. 

They're silent for a second, and Castiel runs his tongue across his already wet lips. Dean starts to chuckle. 

"What's so funny?" 

That only makes Dean laugh harder. He slides his hand through Castiel's hair, pushing a small curl behind his ear.

"I've wanted to do that for so long."

"Then why are you stopping?"

Dean barks out in a laugh. 

Cas shushes him. "You're gonna wake the whole house."

"Trust me, I won't stop the next time,” Dean smirks.

“Okay,” Cas whispers, staring up at Dean. Dean doesn't stop smirking, only leans down to kiss Castiel again. 

Cas melts into it, the warmth of Dean's body all around him. He moans as Dean rubs his thumb across his cheek. Dean chuckles against his lips and does it again, Cas squirming underneath him. 

Castiel loses track of time as they lie there kissing slowly, and then slower and slower until Dean is just pecking his lips. Cas smiles against Dean's lips, and then against his cheek as Dean starts kissing his cheek and temple before snuggling his face into the crook of Cas’ neck. He listens to Dean’s breath, warm and steady against his throat. Dean takes one deep breath, as if to say something, his chest pressed closely to Cas’.

“Please don't leave after New Year's.” 

Castiel takes a shaky breath. “I have no life here, Dean.” 

Dean kisses the side of his neck, his breath warm against Cas’ skin. 

“You have me,” Dean murmurs, the vibrations from his voice tickling. 

Castiel drags his arm up from Dean's back and into the hair at the nape of his neck, kissing the side of Dean's head softly. He doesn't know if he's going to stay or not, and doesn't answer. Dean doesn't press the issue. Instead, he lies down beside Castiel, sneaks an arm under Castiel’s head and kisses his forehead. 

Castiel doesn't know when it happens, but he relaxes and lets Dean's soothing hand on his shoulder lull him to sleep. 

Chapter Text

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Cas.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums again. 

Dean shimmies closer to Castiel, planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

“You awake?”

“No.”

Dean laughs and Castiel rolls over, turning his back to Dean.

“Hey, don’t run away.”

Castiel chuckles as Dean shimmies closer to him again, spooning him up against the side of the tent. He grumbles as Dean’s scruff scratches his neck. 

“I’m sleeping, Dean.” Castiel creeps deeper into his sleeping bag, but Dean doesn’t give up and starts unzipping it. 

“Dean,” Castiel sighs softly. He turns around, making it easier for Dean to reach the zipper. Dean drags it down and then unzips his own sleeping bag. Cas hisses when Dean’s cold feet touch his legs but doesn’t complain and makes room for Dean.

“I told you we should’ve zipped the sleeping bags together, Cas,” Dean says, voice strained as he tries to fit himself into Cas’ sleeping bag. 

“We’re not seven, Dean.”

Dean laughs and plants a kiss right on Cas’ lips as he settles halfway on top of him.

“Am I not allowed to want to cuddle with my boyfriend?” Dean says.

Castiel huffs but moves closer to Dean, snuggling his face into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean hums and wraps his arms properly around Cas.

“Your mood’s definitely changed,” Dean chuckles as Castiel begins to kiss his neck.

Cas hums as he kisses up towards Dean’s jaw.

“Well, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is so hot,” Castiel mumbles into Dean’s ear, feeling Dean shiver and goosebumps raise on his skin. 

Dean growls and rolls them over, the sleeping bag falling off them. Castiel lets his legs fall open around Dean, and pushes Dean closer with a heel against the back of his thigh. 

Dean chuckles, his breath warm against Castiel’s skin. “Impatient, are we?”

Cas doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans up to capture Dean’s lips in a kiss. Dean moans in surprise but presses back into the kiss after a second, his hand traveling down to Cas’ hip and then to his thigh. Cas groans when Dean squeezes his thigh, pushing up against Dean. Slowly, Dean pushes his hand up under Cas’ boxers. 

Castiel moans and pushes his hands under Dean’s t-shirt, up over his shoulders.

“Hurry up,” he mutters against Dean’s lips. 

Dean chuckles but follows Cas’ orders and drags his boxers off. Cas’ half-hard dick jumps back up against his stomach, and Dean grinds down with a moan. 

“Dean.”

Dean kisses Cas, deepening the kiss as he pulls his own boxers down to his thighs. Cas gasps when Dean first brings his hand around their cocks. His fingers tighten in Dean’s hair, hips moving up into Dean’s fist. 

Dean leans down on his elbow beside Cas’ head, burying his face in Cas’ neck. Cas wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, crossing his ankles against the small of his back.

“Fuck, Cas.” 

Dean’s hand loses rhythm as it speeds up. 

Cas feels Dean’s breath wet against the side of his neck, and he grabs Dean’s bicep as he feels the beginning of his orgasm deep and warm in his stomach. 

“Dean.” Cas groans. “Dean, I’m gonna come.”

Both their hips stutter erratically into Dean’s hand, their moans filling the room. It’s getting warmer and warmer inside the tent, and Castiel can feel a thin layer of sweat building on his skin.

Dean’s moans get louder and louder, and in a few seconds, Cas feels Dean’s cock pulse and his stomach get wet. Cas kisses the side of Dean’s mouth as his hand keeps moving. And soon after, Cas comes too, adding to the mess between them.

Cas drops his head down and pants. Slowly, Dean raises his head and looks down on him. He smiles. 

“Awake now?”

Castiel bursts out laughing. “Definitely.”

Dean pushes up from where he was lying on Cas, Cas’ legs open around him. The come on Castiel’s stomach is cooling, but Cas can’t be bothered, so he closes his eyes and lets Dean take care of it. 

He feels Dean fumble around the tent until he finds one of their pairs of underwear to wipe it off, giving Castiel a kiss when he’s done. Cas hums and puts a hand on Dean’s neck to pull him back into another kiss when Dean pulls away. 

Dean moves his legs so he’s straddling Cas, pulling the sides of the sleeping bag up and over Cas.

“Don’t want you to freeze now, do we?” 

“I think we created enough warmth in here for at least a week,” Castiel says and laughs, but lets Dean tuck him into the sleeping bag. Dean reaches into the pocket on the side of the tent and drags out his t-shirt. He gives Cas another kiss before pulling on his wool sweater, then passes Cas his wool sweater, too. 

“Coffee?” Dean asks. 

“Not yet.” Cas shakes his head and opens up his arms. Dean smiles and crawls back into the embrace, his legs outside of Cas’ sleeping bag. 

Castiel doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but he savors every minute of Dean in his arms, his soft wool sweater warm against his hands. He dozes off, and when he wakes up, Dean isn’t in the tent anymore, and his sleeping bag is zipped up all the way. Castiel gets out of it, putting on his pants and socks before he opens the zipper to the vestibule to put on his boots. 

Dean’s got a fire going, and he sits with his back against the tent, still in just the wool sweater and boxers.

“Aren’t you cold?” Castiel sits down beside Dean. 

“The fire’s pretty warm,” Dean answers, leaning forward to grab the kettle he had placed by the fire, pouring coffee into two cups. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Castiel says and leans over to give Dean a kiss. 

The fire has dried the area around it completely, but everywhere else is wet from the melting snow, the moisture cold in the early March morning. Castiel snuggles closer to Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist, thumb tucked into the elastic of his boxers. 

A black log breaks in two and Dean puts a new one on. It pops as the fire surrounds it, the water inside the damp log evaporating, leaving a heavy smoke smell. 

Castiel closes his eyes, leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder. He steadies his breath to match the rhythmic rise and fall of Dean’s. He takes in the sound of the birds chirping in the early morning, the smell of wet moss and the fire burning. They would need to air out all their clothes after this.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dean begins. He takes hold of Castiel’s hand. “Do you want to move in? With me?” 

Cas opens his eyes.

“Yes.”

Dean lifts his head from where he had rested it against the top of Cas’.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Cas repeats. He sits up properly to meet Dean’s eyes. “Yes, really.”

Dean kisses Cas hard. When he pulls away, his smile warms more than the fire could ever do.

“I love you,” Dean says, his eyes glittering in the morning sun.

A laugh bubbles up from inside Cas as he takes in Dean’s beauty.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean kisses Cas again. And then again and again and again. 

After Dean puts on their last log, they decide to make breakfast before the fire goes out. Cas rolls their sleeping mats and sleeping bags as Dean makes pancakes over the fire. 

When they finish eating, they put the tent down. It doesn’t take more than five minutes, Cas knowing exactly what to do after having put it up and down so many times the last few months.

“When we get back, we can take the truck to Seattle and get the rest of your stuff,” Dean says and stuffs his backpack. “We’ll make it a trip, maybe stay in the city for a couple of days?” He looks up at Castiel with hopeful eyes. 

“That sounds like a good plan, Dean.” Castiel smiles.

They put on their backpacks and Dean checks the campsite, making sure they didn’t leave anything behind. 

“I don’t have that many clothes so I can move that to one side in the wardrobe, and I’ll help you move your stuff in.”

Castiel walks over to Dean, grabs his hip and gives him a soft kiss on the lips. 

“And after that, I’ll make a real good lasagna for you.” Dean grins before leaning back into another kiss.

And when they walk back, Castiel is focused on the path so he doesn’t slip on any wet rocks. But it doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, thinking about his future with Dean.