ohsam | A Blanket of Fog

Title : A Blanket of Fog
Author : Meigun-Blaze
Pairing : Sam/Dean
Rating : PG-13
Word Count : 856
Warnings : Fluff
Disclaimer : I own nothing but this story
Summary : When the fog gets too thick to drive through, Sam and Dean are forced to stop.

    It’s cold outside. The kind of weather that creeps up and leaves you surprised. It had been such a beautiful day. Sun shining bright and high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. But now? The sun has fallen, setting beyond the mountains and the fog has rolled in, blanketing the ground, not even letting the moon shine through. It gets worse as the hours tick by, and Sam can’t even see two feet ahead of them anymore.

    The Impala slices through the misty wisps, headlights useless and Dean curses when the light bounces back at him, making his visibility for shit. The Impala’s heat is no match for this. The cold clings to the metal of the car, seeping in through the cracks, creating patterns of ice on the glass of the windows. Sam shivers in his flimsy jacket and his breath can be seen in puffs. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dean’s as well.

    “Fuck.” Dean mutters, using one arm to wipe away the freezing condensation on the windshield for the fifth time. They’re driving through the flatlands of Wyoming at three o’clock in the morning, no closer to any towns then they were two hours ago, and their lids are starting to grow heavy. It’s dangerous enough driving in these conditions fully awake, but driving them when you’re already blurry-eyed with the need for sleep? That’s suicide.

    “Dean?” Sam says, exhaustion clear in his voice. “Pull over, man. We’ll sleep in the car. Wait for the fog to lift.”

    The only reason Dean hasn’t done this sooner is his worry about some idiot driver, not seeing the Impala on the shoulder and smashing into them.

    “Yeah, okay.”

    Dean pulls off to the side, parking and shutting off the engine. The cold sweeps in now that the heater has been killed. Around them, the fog moves to swallow the car, and Sam watches with rapt attention, body shaking from the sudden temperature drop. Dean’s moving next to him, reaching in the back seat for the old blanket they keep there, just for these occasions.

    Dean spreads the thick comforter between them, and Sam takes his share gratefully, wrapping as much as he can around him while Dean does the same. Dean pulls out his flask, taking a long swig, throat working to swallow down what is no doubt their dwindling supply of whiskey. He offers it to Sam and he takes it, welcoming the burn that travels down to settle in his belly. He hands it back to Dean feeling slightly warmer.

    Sam watches as Dean leans against his door, trying to get comfortable, eyes closing and Sam follows his example. Sleep seems almost impossible. Even with the blanket, he can feel the cold sinking into his bones, making his body creak, ache and tremble. The Impala isn’t exactly comfortable, either. Sam sighs and tries to find a position he can relax in.

    He’s shivering, occasionally hitting the side of the door with a smacking sound and his teeth are chattering uncontrollably while he huffs in gulping breaths because it feels like his lungs are paralyzed.

    “Sam?” Dean says, clearly exasperated.

    “I k-know.” Sam stutters. “I-I’ll try t-to be quiet.” He promises, sounding pathetic even to his ears and he can hear Dean sigh.

    “Come here.”

    “What? W-why?”

   “Come. Here!” Dean repeats, never bothering with an explanation and Sam concedes, shifting towards him, and Dean moves as well, sliding down his door to lay fully across the seat, arms opening to invite Sam in, and Sam can’t help but stare at him a little shocked.

    “What?” Dean demands. “You’re cold, I’m warm. This isn’t rocket science, Sammy! Now get over here.”

    Sam climbs on top of Dean, speechless, but his brother wasn’t kidding. He’s much warmer than Sam is, and Sam latches onto that like a lifeline, whimpering gratefully when Dean’s arms encircle his waist. Sam tucks his head under Dean’s chin and inhales his scent; which mixes in with the fresh clean smell of the cold outside and he burrows deeper into Dean’s warm skin.

    The position is awkward. Sam’s still cramped, legs hanging off the side of the seat. It feels like the belt buckle is digging into the thigh he has thrown over Dean’s hip, but he’s warm, and slowly, his shivering ceases, and his eyes flutter in exhaustion.

    “Better?” Dean questions, hand coming up to bury his fingers in the soft strands of Sam’s hair and Sam mewls, content.

    “Better.” Sam agrees, voice slurred and he can’t fight sleep any longer. He places a kiss to Dean’s chest, right over his heart, and feels it quicken before he slips down into dreams.

    Outside, the fog moves in to settle over the car, covering it like a blanket to keep them safe from prying eyes.

THE END