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Locked Out

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Dean hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

Thunder clapped overhead, and rain water soaked his hair, his clothes, his skin. The cold traveled down his back, settling in his bones. He’d been outside too long; his fingertips were starting to tingle, the feeling leaving them as blood rushed from his extremities, his heart working to keep the most vital parts of his body warm. A part of him cursed himself for staying out this long. He always hated the cold.

He’d grumbled and groaned about being locked out of the motel room, about Sam not listening when he’d told him to stay put. It was late, and the front desk was closed, the lights off. The storm clouds had broken open as he’d kicked the door in frustration, and it startled him when the rain came down all at once. Cas had watched his childish temper tantrum, observing quietly before suggesting they go to the Impala in order to avoid hypothermia. Dean had ignored him and leaned against the door, letting the rain weigh down his hair, his shirt beginning to stick to him. Cas just sighed at him.

He threw a tired frown at Cas, then tilted his head back. The storm seemed to intensify, and the roar that sounded from the heavens told him that it’d rain for a long while. He stared at the clouds as if he was considering marching right up to the skies and stopping the rain himself. His eyes didn’t move from the sky as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Cas.” A deep breath. The air rested heavy in his lungs, and he pushed it all out. “I should’ve made sure I had a spare key, huh?”

The shrug Cas gave him was almost audible in his response. “You couldn’t have predicted the rain, Dean.” He shuffled and Dean didn’t look, but could picture the angel’s hands slipping into his pockets. He imagined the rain pouring off his hair, dripping in front of his face. “You don’t have to apologize, we’ll just remember the key next time.”

Dean’s answer was a loud, long sigh. “When Sam gets back,” he started, eyes closed in an attempt to keep the rain from blinding him. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“Let me guess.” Cas’ voice alone made Dean start laughing, eyes still closed as he imagined the other rolling his eyes. “Tombstone? Or another movie with more guns and more tuberculosis?”

His laughter subsided, and Dean shrugged in response. “I mean, if you want. Westerns are always on the list– especially Tombstone.” The rain on his face stung with cold, but he just accepted it. He sure as hell was never going to let himself get caught in the rain again, so he might as well just let the rain hit him while it could. “If you want, you could pick. I know you just watch my movies to make me happy, so you can pick this time. We could watch your rom coms or whatever.” The sound of the rain hitting the pavement just about swallowed his words. He opened his eyes, settling his gaze on Cas, a grin on his face. “How’s that sound?”

The look on Cas’ face made Dean raise his eyebrows. His eyes were soft, eyebrows drawing together like he was about to cry. Dean simultaneously wanted to make a joke about not turning this into a chick flick moment, and to reach out and hold Cas by the shoulders to make sure he was okay. He didn’t get to do either of those things.

His eyes were closed again. He wasn’t sure when he’d done that, but it wasn’t odd. That’s what he usually did when someone kissed him.

Cas’ hands were warm on his cheeks, a startling contrast to the icy sting of the early spring storm. His calloused hands were pressing gently, and Dean followed the guidance, tilting his head to better fit with Cas. His mind was racing, his stomach flipping, and all the blood his heart had worked so hard to pump only where needed rushed to his cheeks. Every bit of his focus was on the way Cas’ stubble scraped his chin. He found himself leaning forward to feel it more. The angel’s lips were warm, too, burning Dean’s as Cas’ tongue slipped into his mouth. Some rain followed. Dean couldn’t care less.

When he had to pull away, breathless and dazed, his eyes were still closed. He opened them slowly, staring at Cas, who’s blue eyes were wide and staring back. He cleared his throat. “Cas,” he croaked, blinking.

The breath Cas released sounded like a choked off laugh. “Dean,” he replied. The smile that spread across his face made Dean feel like his knees were going to buckle. “Dean,” he said again, the rain almost drowning him out. Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss that smile. So he did.

And there, with his hands pushing Cas’ wet hair out of his face, his back against the motel door, Dean decided the rain wasn’t all that bad.