Chapter Text
It was all Luke's fault. Luke made Jess go on this stupid school trip in the Catskills. It's because of Luke that he’s here in this tiny cabin with none other than Dean Forester. In the middle of a blizzard. So yeah, Jess was having a fucking fantastic time.
Jess was sitting on his bed reading. He'd already finished three games of solitaire, and things were getting frustratingly boring. There was really nothing else to do in the cabin, and calling it a cabin was generous. It was a shed with two twin beds and a wood-burning stove that apparently had “dangerous resin buildup” which, according to the sign, could possibly make the entire thing catch fire and explode if lit. Even if they wanted to take their chances, there was no firewood, inside or outside. They were lucky they even got an indoor bathroom.
It was cold as hell in here, definitely worse outside. Beyond the frosted window was pure black. Jess couldn’t even see the snow, but he could hear the wind, feel it pushing on the walls of the cabin. It was probably below zero by now, and the interior temperature kept dropping. He was already wearing three layers, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. Though he would never admit to it, when he looked at Dean shivering in just that sweatshirt and windbreaker, Jess started to get worried.
…
Dean hated the cold. He hated it more than anything. He should never have agreed to go on this trip in the first place. He got it in his head that he’d regret it if he didn’t go, and that it would be fun. A nice high school experience he couldn’t replicate. A few days in the mountains, sitting by a fire with a book Rory gave him to read. It sounded like a dream come true. An escape from things he didn’t want to even think about thinking about.
This was no escape. It was freezing. He couldn't get warm. He couldn't stop the chills from wracking his body. Jess was here. In his cabin. Invading his space with his stupid card shuffling and now the page-turning and the pen-clicking before he underlined something or scribbled notes in the margins. The cold made Dean irritable. Silence shot through with numerous minuscule noises made Dean irritable. And Jess. Jess made Dean more irritable than anything.
He was trying to warm up a little. Walking kept the blood flowing, flowing blood kept him warm. Or warm-ish. It wasn’t warm when you could see your own breath. So he walked, watched Jess read. And walked, watched Jess flip a page. And walked, watched Jess get tenser and tenser. Dean's teeth chattered. He could feel the cold sinking down into his bones. So he walked a little faster. Shook out his hands and rubbed them together, because the joints were becoming stiff and his fingers slow, before stuffing them under his arms.
Jess looked up from where he sat on his bed, glaring right at Dean.
“Can I help you?” Dean snapped through chattering teeth.
“Could you maybe... I don't know. Sit down? Your constant fucking pacing is doing wonders for my concentration.” Dean stopped, and Jess went back to reading with one of those stupid smug smirks he must specifically reserve for pissing Dean off spread across his lips. He wanted to punch him, but it felt like if he hit anything his body would crack and shatter like ice.
“What’re you smiling at?” He said instead. God, it was cold.
Jess shook his head, still smirking. “Nothin’.”
“What do you even need to concentrate for?” Dean bit back. “You’re definitely not studying. It’s not like you're even gonna graduate.” Jess looked up, totally pissed. Dean was ecstatic that he’d finally gotten a rise out of him, but he had to drive the point home. He didn’t know what he wanted the end result to be. Sometimes he wanted to piss Jess off so much that he’d hit him. Dean bet that getting the shit kicked out of him might warm him up. “Watch me predict your future, Jess: ‘Thanks for shopping at Walmart. Would you like a receipt today?’”
The anger cracked, and Jess was chuckling, shaking his head like he’d just thought of something real funny he wasn’t going to share. “What are you even trying to prove, Dean?”
Just then, the lights flickered and the room went dark.
“Guess that means it’s time to crash,” Jess said, rustling around, getting under the covers. He fell silent, leaving Dean standing in the middle of a dark room, asking himself what was he trying to prove?
…
Jess wasn’t what you would call an expert on anything. But when it came to 19th and 20th-century literature, cars, music, and cold weather survival, he was a lucky person’s best bet. Only this time, Dean was the lucky one. Jess decided that the universe had it out for him personally.
When the lights went out, he stripped down to his underwear and crawled under the thick heavy covers. A little weird, sleeping almost naked with another guy in the room, sure. Counterintuitive, yes. But when it’s cold you don’t sleep with layers of clothes on. You’re trying to warm up a small space, and clothes just get in the way. He got comfy, finally warming up to a somewhat normal temperature. He would have been just fine sleeping like this, but Dean had other plans.
He heard Dean drop his shoes on the wooden floor, heard him shuffling into bed before going still, and Jess fell asleep.
Not for long though. It couldn’t have been for more than an hour. He woke up to the sound of audible teeth chattering and frozen whimpers that would have been laughable if it wasn't 2 fucking am.
Dean's shivering was shaking his whole bed frame. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see the trembling lump in the bed across from him, and he told it to shut up. Then turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
However, the chattering continued, along with grumbled curses Jess knew Dean would have never said in the daylight. Jess kept trying to fall asleep.
He couldn’t fall asleep. All he could hear was Dean's chattering teeth and his overly long limbs jerking with each wave of chills. He'd had enough of this.
“Dean.”
“I’mm s-sorry.” His voice came out like a whimper and something in Jess ached at the sound.
“No, don’t—” feel bad about me telling you to shut up when you're literally freezing to death. “Just. Just get over here.” God, what was he doing?
“W-what?”
“I said get over here. If you’re frozen solid in the morning Rory is gonna kill me.” There was the noisy, obnoxious sound of fabric brushing against that windbreaker as Dean got up and padded across to Jess's bed. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to brace himself for what he was about to do. Rory might just kill him anyway if this went wrong. Dean might freak out, but at least he could say he tried. Despite popular belief, Jess did care about things, especially people.
Jess threw back the covers to let Dean crawl inside. The air came rushing in, colder than cold, stinging his bare skin, but if the air was like a dunk in the Arctic, Dean was a glacier.
“Jesus,” Jess hissed as Dean slid in next to him. That fabric rustling noise was much louder this close. And they were really close. Twin beds are not known for their ability to comfortably fit two people who despise each other.
“I know,” Dean said, still shivering. “‘m so fuckin’ c-cold.”
Of course he was. He was still wearing all those layers. He wouldn’t really warm up if he didn’t get them off. Jess sighed, reluctant to speak but resigned to do the same. Goddamn empathy. It turned out it was intrinsic to human beings, or at least to him. What a wonderful weekend for self-discovery.
“Dean.”
“‘m sorry. I’m t-trying—” Jess's heart skipped a beat as Dean moved away from the edge of the tiny twin bed, towards Jess. Dean’s hand brushed his and the skin felt cold and dry against Jess’s.
“Don’t apologize.” He swallowed thickly. “But Dean. You’ve gotta get out of those clothes. That’s why you’re not warming up.” Dean didn’t respond for a second, and Jess wondered if he was going to get punched now. It felt like he was. Like Dean was processing and that the pieces would click together and then boom, black eye and Dean would stomp off into the storm and get himself killed and Jess didn’t want that, not really—
“I can't,” Dean said on an exhale.
Jess's stomach was in knots. He could feel the weight of Dean in the bed, the way those clothes seemed to leech the heat from him, the closeness. They were so close, and something was pulling taut inside Jess’s chest. “Why?”
“M’ fingers ‘re too cold.”
Shit. Okay, okay. Fuck, he could do this.
“Can-“ Deep breath. “Can I?”
Dean was silent. not really silent, but he didn’t speak for a long moment. Too long.
“Dean?” Jess heard him pull in a deep, shuddering breath.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “G-go ahead.”
Both of the boys seemed to hold their breath as Jess started to pull off the jacket and tossed it onto the ground. Jess's heart was racing, Dean was trying hard to be still. He sat up to help Jess get the sweatshirt off of him. Then the henley under that, and the t-shirt, soaked through with warmth, under that.
Finally, Jess brushed his hand along naked skin. He could just make out the shape of Dean’s chest in the dark and he knew Dean’s eyes were on him. Jess’s chest and neck were flushed with warmth. Felt like he had a fever. His hands were shaking as he let out a breath. He didn’t know if what he felt could exactly be categorized as relief, but it ended when Dean still couldn’t get his jeans undone. Jess didn’t ask but Dean nodded and sort of laughed. It was a nervous sort of laugh, like he was expecting something. It set Jess on edge.
“What?” he snapped.
“‘m just wonderin’ what Rory w-would say ‘f she saw us right now.” God, Rory. What would she think about this? Her current boyfriend undressing her ex. She would see right through him. Into what, he didn’t know, but it terrified him. He didn’t know how he could be burning from embarrassment and cold with dread all at once but he was. Searing hot on the surface, ice-cold in his gut.
“Don’t talk about Rory. I don't want to think about Rory right now.”
“Jess—”
“Please?”
“Okay.” With a relieved sigh, Jess reached with a shaking hand and undid Dean’s fly. Pulled the fabric down, revealing black underwear. Jess clenched his fist, dug his nails into his palm as something white-hot sparked deep in his gut. Dean lifted his hips and tugged them off of his long legs. Tossed the pile of clothes on the ground and settled back into the bed.
The bed was small, too small for two almost grown men to share without getting a little familiar. They were pressed together from shoulder to hip, and Dean scooted closer still, wrapping his arms around himself. He was still shaking, his skin warm, but not warm enough, though at least his breathing was finally slowing down. Jess spent a few minutes uncontrollably tense, refusing to relax and to have more of himself pressed to Dean, before he remembered it wasn’t a good thing that Dean’s breathing was slowing down.
“Dean?” Jess said, more worry creeping into his voice than he had wanted. He sat up on his side.
Dean didn’t respond, just shivered. Jess repeated himself, shaking Dean by his shoulder once. His skin was soft, the muscles of his shoulder firm. A tiny noise escaped Jess’s throat, the thread inside him pulling tighter and tighter as he took his hand back. He could still feel the warmth and the texture of Dean’s skin like it was tattooed onto his palm. His own breathing was speeding up to match the racing of his heart. He felt himself getting a little lightheaded.
“Dean, please,” he begged. He set a hand on Dean’s shoulder again, squeezing firmly. He almost whimpered from the weight of what he refused to acknowledge.
Dean stirred, moving closer. “’m sorry,” he started. ”For what I said.. earlier. Didn't mean it. Yer so smart. ‘Nd I don’t even like her like that anymore.”
“It's okay, I swear. Just stay awake.” Dean shivered again. This one didn’t stop for a whole minute. At this point, he didn’t want to take any chances. He moved closer and pulled Dean closer, so that their bodies were only a few inches apart. Both of them on their sides. “Come here.”
Dean sluggishly grabbed Jess’s upper arm, his thumb pressing into Jess’s bicep. Jess let out a tiny gasp. “What’re you doin’?” God, they were so close. It was hard to breathe. Every inhale and exhale stirred Dean’s hair. Jess peered into his half-open eyes, feeling like he was being choked. All the wrong words and feelings were trapped in his throat, in the muscles of his neck and back. The ones he would use to move forward, closer into Dean's space. Jess pushed those thoughts far far away.
“I’m making sure you don’t freeze.” He rubbed his hand over Dean’s arm, trying to warm him up. “You’re so damn cold.”
Dean hummed. Jess could feel the vibration in his sternum, could see the smile spreading across Dean’s lips as he closed his eyes and inched closer. “Yer so warm. Like a furnace. Or summer.'' Jess thought his heart was going to explode from beating so fast. His body was so rigid, the thread tight enough that it was going to snap, tight enough that Jess might do something stupid. Dean was right there. With his long fluttering lashes and his mop of hair tickling Jess’s nose, with his lips parted as he breathed. All it would take was tilting his chin up, moving an inch forward, until their lips would touch.
“Dean.” His name rolled off Jess’s tongue, low and full of want, the thread pulling completely taut as Dean shifted again, wrapped his arms around Jess’s waist and buried his face in Jess’s neck. And just like that, the thread was released. Jess relaxed into Dean, melted against him. He snaked his arms around Dean’s ribs, pulled him closer until his chest and stomach and hips were lined up with Dean's. Jess gasped at the sensation, sucking in a breath like he’d been burned. Felt like something was opening between them. No more rigid boundaries, he'd crossed the border, all bets were off now. It scared him, and he wanted so much more of it.
“What?” Dean asked. His lips brushed the skin of Jess’s throat, and he nuzzled closer. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said. Nothing could be wrong when they were like this. “You’re just cold.” That was a lie. With all the layers off and the shared bed and body heat, Dean was finally warming up. But all of Jess’s resolve was gone, the forbidden fruit lying in his arms, and he wanted to be closer. He pulled him as close as possible, the warm friction of their chests and stomachs sliding against each other as they shifted in the bed. Dean swung a leg over Jess’s, and Jess slipped one between Dean’s. He had to bite his lip to keep his hips from grinding into Dean’s.
Dean sighed, his breath hot against Jess’s neck, squeezing Jess like a fuckin’ octopus before relaxing. He couldn't resist stroking the soft smooth skin of Dean’s back. Feeling the muscled columns of his back, the broad wings of his shoulder blades. Jess could feel the strength of him all bundled up and relaxed. In his arms only. Breath filled his lungs, expanded his ribs within the circle of Jess’s arms and against his chest. He finally let his eyes slip closed. The calmness enveloping them as complete and rare as a total solar eclipse.
For tonight, they were entwined in bed like children or lovers. Tomorrow didn’t matter. Jess didn't want to remember that this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. So he didn't. He took a deep breath, Dean’s downy hair pressed against his cheek, and let himself be lulled to sleep by the strong drumbeat of Dean's steady heart.