A/N: This is from a prompt of maypoles', an old one, just reworking and reposting.
"This came from the sky," Sam says. His voice is low and sweet and the ice is cold and sweet on Dean's hot, sick skin.
"Thank you, Boy Genius." The air outside the car window ripples with rain and Dean watches it, watches the lightning appear and disappear. Three loud pings on the roof make him grunt, clench his jaw.
"Shh. She'll be fine." Sam follows the ice with his lips, cool water sliding down Dean's ribcage, dripping onto the leather seat. Dean thinks about how he'll make Sam mop up the water, save the seats, thinks about how he'll do it soon, before the stain can take. He doesn't move.
The car shakes with thunder. It's dark outside, at two in the afternoon.
Sam cracks the window and cool water mists over Dean's skin. He thinks about split leather and hair dryers and popping out dents.
"Sam," he croaks, but the window's already shut and another hailstone's melting along his collarbone, his jaw, his thick tongue. Sam's lips feather over his forehead as the slow trickle slicks his throat.
"Yeah?" Sam breathes into his temple.
Dean's thighs ache. His fingers find Sam's back.
"Gimme some more of the friggin' sky ice."