Sam is snoring from the other bed like he’s auditioning to be the human embodiment of white noise. You’re half-curled against Dean under the scratchy blanket, both of you wide awake and trying not to laugh. Dean nudges you with his shoulder, his voice low and full of barely-contained amusement. “You hear that?”

You bite your lip, stifling a giggle. “It’s… impressive. Like, medically concerning.”

“Do you think he swallowed a chainsaw or is this just a new talent?”

You smirk. “He’s gonna need a priest when he wakes up. An exorcism. Maybe a mouth guard.”

Dean’s chest shakes with quiet laughter as he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear. “You always get this mouthy when you’re sharing a bed with me, or am I just a special occasion?”

You turn your head toward him, nose almost brushing his. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester. You’re just warm. And marginally less annoying than freezing alone.”

“Marginally?” he echoes, eyes glinting. “You wound me.”

“Only a little.” Your voice softens, sarcasm fading into something warmer. Dean’s thumb is brushing lazy circles just under the hem of your shirt, “You could stop touching me like that if you really want me to sleep.”

He smirks, but his hand doesn’t move. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. You kiss him back slowly, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his t-shirt. “Y’know,” he murmurs against your lips, “we keep this up, and I’m not gonna be the reason you don’t sleep.”

“Really? Planning to blame it on the snoring?”

Dean tilts his head, eyes flicking toward his brother. “That, or I’ll say you jumped me. You look dangerous when you’re sick of pretending you’re not into me.” You roll your eyes, but your fingers are still tangled in his shirt, and your lips find his again. And somewhere, across the room, Sam lets out a snore loud enough to scare birds. Dean groans against your mouth. “Okay. Seriously. We’re getting separate rooms next time.”