Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.

E/O Challenge: Include a song title, or a band's name, involving hurt Dean and some brotherly moments. 550 word drabble. Dean lets go of his fears when Sam is frozen by a witch's icy curse. Set season 9. Belated birthday wishes for Wynefred.

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Conceal, Don't Feel

"It's time to see what I can do, to test the limits and break through" – 'Let It Go', Idina Menzel

Dean dragged Sam into the shelter of the cabin away from the brutal snow storm that, thanks to a curse, had seemed to originate and spiral out from his brother's own freakishly large body.

"How can you weigh so much when all you eat is lettuce?" Dean complained, having already exhausted the rant about how much he hated witches. Slamming the door against the howling wind, he went to wipe the sweat from his brow only to find it had already become a jagged series of icicles.

Sam stirred, clumsily rubbing a hand over his mouth as he stared about himself in obvious confusion.

Dean watched, his eyes widening in horror, as frost spread out from his brother's fingers to cover Sam's face. With the hilt of his knife, Dean frantically chipped away at the thick, rapidly expanding ice that was threatening Sam's ability to breathe.

These days, Dean always knew exactly where the First Blade was, it was as if his whole body was attuned to its location, but that didn't stop him from looking down at it in grateful amazement to have found a use for it that actually involved saving someone.

"Jeez Sammy, I always knew you were a Disney princess, but if you're gonna channel Elsa at least watch where you put your hands."

Sam blinked up at him in between bone-shuddering shivers. "Was that a 'Frozen' reference?" he slurred.

Dean's cheeks warmed despite the chill and his worry for his brother. "We're not talking about me," he grumbled, turning to the fireplace to quickly and efficiently set a fire blazing in the hearth.

"I'm still so cold," Sam shuddered, his teeth chattering.

A quick search of a nearby chest produced a couple of thick blankets that Dean wrapped around his brother, concerned as he noticed Sam's unfocussed gaze and shallow breathing. "Hey! You need to stay awake, Sammy."

Dean gazed down to where the Mark of Cain constantly throbbed and burned in the flesh of his arm. An idea took form in his mind as he thought again of the blade being used to help instead of harm.

Sam jolted in surprise as Dean sprang forward without warning and started fumbling with his belt and pawing at his shirt and pants. "Er, Dean, you know I love you like a brother, right?" he giggled nervously.

"Really?" Dean snorted. And people really consider him the bright one? "I think you're getting hyperthermia; I need to warm you up."

"Oh," breathed Sam, as he wondered if just the heat of his embarrassment alone was enough to save him. In the end, he decided he was too cold to care and pulled his brother closer, reveling in the blissful feeling of the supernaturally generated warmth spreading through his body.

"Thanks Dean," Sam sighed, as he snuggled, no... moved manfully, further into the source of heat.

"Let it go, s'no problem," Dean sighed. Gritting his teeth, he composed his features to disguise the pain of the pulses of extreme cold raging out from Sam's grip. The intensity was already decreasing somewhat and he guessed the curse would have run its course in another couple of hours or so.

Besides, after having suffered thirty years of being tormented in the fiery pits of Hell, the cold never bothered him anyway.

(;,;)