Archive of Our Own

College never seemed like it was going to be in Dean’s future, but, with Sam’s tutoring and his mother’s encouragement, Dean is unloading his first box out of his dad’s Impala on the campus of the University of Oregon. His mom is pretending she isn’t crying in the front seat, and his dad’s face is gleaming with the kind of pride that was usually reserved for a particularly good play on the football field.

They left Sam at home, and Dean can feel a small throbbing spot where he’s going to miss the kid, but he can’t help but be excited for the prospects of living on his own (well, with a roommate) in a brand new town. Lawrence, Kansas was getting a little tedious.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Sweetie?” Mary asks, smoothing her blonde hair before exiting the car. Her oldest son now towers over her, but she wraps him in a hug, resting her head on his chest and rubbing his back. Dean grips her around her shoulders, trying to memorize the way she smells, even though he knows he could never forget.

“I’m sure, Mom,” Dean replies, pulling away so she can see the smile on his face. He knows she’s happy for him, but the idea of her baby moving away is hurting her too much to put on a real smile. Dean quickly squeezes her one more time before letting her go.

“Well, let’s go see your room, then,” she smiles, ignoring the fresh tear rolling out of her eye. Mary wrestles Dean’s suitcase out of the backseat while Dean and John each grab a box and head towards the brick building they’d parked nearest. Inside, there is a small “lobby” with a desk, where a girl wearing a neon yellow shirt that says “Volunteer” is standing.

“Are you a freshman?” she asks, cheerily. She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and grins at Dean, avoiding eye contact with his parents.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean answers, leaning against the desk and winking. It’s never too early to start testing the waters, right? “My name is Winchester, Dean Winchester.”

“Winchester,” she mumbles, skimming her pencil over the list of typed names and information. “Ah, here we go! You’ll be in room 217, which is right up these stairs, and,” she leans in, lowering her voice, “next door to my room.” She winks, handing over a key, as Dean just gapes and follows his parents up the stairs.

“She seems nice,” Mary speculates, waiting for John and Dean to catch up with her. The hallway is filled with fresh high school graduates, making friends and talking loud, and Dean bumps into a few of the cute girls, just to make his presence in this hall noticed.

“Yes she does,” John smirks, nudging Dean. The door swings open to reveal a very small room, overcrowded by two beds, two desks, and two tall closets. Dean’s roommate has yet to arrive, apparently, and Dean sets his box on the desk closest to the door.

“You sure packed light,” John compliments, surveying the room. It’s kind of dark and dusty, but it’s Dean’s. And some other guy’s. But, right now, it’s just Dean’s.

After a few minutes and a lot of hugs from his mother, Dean is shooing his parents out of his room. Mary begins crying as she retreats down the hallway, casting glances over her shoulder at her son, standing in the door of his new dorm room.

Dean waves one last time before returning to his room. He digs the sheets out of one of the boxes and starts making his bed, when he hears someone clear their throat from the doorway. ‘This is it,’ Dean thinks before turning around.

This is not what Dean expected when he envisioned his roommate. This boy is, well, gorgeous. His piercing blue eyes survey the entire room, Dean included, before running his hand through his already-messy hair.

“Hello,” he says, in a much deeper voice than Dean expected to come out of such a thin body.

“Hi,” Dean replies, stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” the boy answers, dropping his suitcase on the bed opposite Dean’s. Dean watches the door, waiting for his new roommate’s parents to show up, but, after a few moments, Dean realizes he’s come here alone.

“Do you need any help unloading your car?” Dean asks, tucking the edges of the blankets under the mattress. He watches Castiel unpack his suitcase into the closet.

“No,” he answers, closing the closet. “I’ve only got one more box. Thank you, though.” Castiel slips out of the room before Dean can say anything else. There’s something absolutely captivating about the way Castiel talks and moves. Everything is completely calculated, as if he planned it all days beforehand. Maybe he did; maybe Dean got paired with some kind of clairvoyant super-genius.

It doesn’t really matter to Dean, as all he can really remember about the new boy is that he has a fantastic ass.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Classes have been in session for two weeks, and Dean’s not sure how people have time to sleep, do their homework, and have a reasonable social life at the same time. He feels like a zombie, drifting around campus from class to class before collapsing on his bed when he gets back to the dorm.

He’s hardly said two words to Castiel, and he feels bad about it. The guy doesn’t seem to have any friends. At least Dean somehow managed to make some connections in his classes, even if they don’t hang out outside of the classroom.

But, it’s Friday and a three-day weekend. ‘Thank God for Labor Day’ were words Dean never thought he’d be thinking as his final class of the day lets out. He nearly sprints back to his room, hoping Castiel is there. (He usually is).

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, cheerfully dumping his books on his desk, as the other man turns around in his chair. Suddenly, Dean’s not sure if he should have given Castiel a nickname, but it just slipped out. It felt right. Besides, what kind of name is Castiel?

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel responds, turning back to the text book riddled with highlighted sections and notes written in the margins. He didn’t seem to notice the nickname.

“What’re you doin’ tonight?” Dean asks, wondering if this is going where he seems to be unintentionally leading it. He hopes his smile is friendly enough. He hopes his hair is straight. He hopes Cas doesn’t notice that he’s out of breath.

“Uh, this,” Cas answers, gesturing at his desk.

“Wanna go get some food or somethin’?” Dean asks, hoping his voice doesn’t shake. Why does he feel so nervous? He’s just asking a friend to eat dinner with him. Nothing else. Dean likes girls. Or…?

“I don’t have any money,” Cas says, plainly. He expects Dean to shut the conversation down right then, to just say ‘oh, never mind’ and waltz out the door.

“That’s okay,” Dean grins. “My mom’s worried about me, so she’s making Dad send me some cash every week. It’ll be my treat. You in?”

Cas looks at his book for a minute, thinking about it. He hasn’t taken a break from school life since he got here, and he could definitely use one. Dean notices the bags under Cas’s eyes when he turns around again.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Cas answers, shrugging his shoulders and grabbing his jacket from its resting place on his bed.

“Nah, man, I don’t mind,” Dean chuckles, opening the door for Castiel. He’s not sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him, but Cas’s face seems to blossom under the gesture, a light blush forming on his cheeks. They walk side-by-side down the empty hallway, brushing shoulders since it’s barely wide enough for both of them. Suddenly, Dean’s at a loss of things to say, and he can feel the uncomfortable silence building, but his mind just won’t force a new topic to mind. Luckily, Cas does it for him.

“Do you enjoy your classes, Dean?”

“Uh, they’re alright,” Dean replies, chuckling so his sentence won’t seem quite so dumb when he finishes it. “A lot of homework, though. But, whatever. I’ll get used to it. What about you?”

Dean hopes Cas doesn’t notice his rambling. Or his shaking voice. Or the ghost of his old stutter haunting his words.

“I think they will be very interesting,” Castiel agrees, stepping into the chilly evening air. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Do you like Chinese food?”

“I couldn’t say,” Cas mumbles, looking down at his feet. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, and old memories of playground bullies making fun pull at the edges of his mind. However, Dean’s laugh isn’t mean or teasing, it is genuinely surprised. It’s a warm, resonating sound that sends shivers through Cas’s body. He can’t help but feel slightly better when listening to it.

“You’ve never had Chinese, huh?” Dean asks, watching the bright red blush fade from Cas’s cheeks. Cas straightens his shoulders a little and smiles weakly.

“No,” Cas chuckles, getting caught off guard when Dean stops suddenly in front of a dimly lit restaurant.

“Well, you’re about to learn,” Dean winks, slipping through the glass door. Cas follows him quickly and listens as Dean orders what seems like way too much food to-go. It’s fast, though, and soon the boys are walking quickly back to the dorm, hoping to get there before the food is too cold.

Having no proper table, they both sit on the linoleum between their beds. Dean unpacks the red and white boxes one at a time, placing them in front of Cas, and Cas opens them, observing the hot, greasy contents with a sort of wary expression.

“Don’t worry,” Dean says, opening the last box himself. “It tastes a lot better than it looks. I promise.”

“We don’t have plates, how are we supposed to eat?” Castiel asks, quizzically looking around.

Dean hands him a plastic fork, laughing aloud. “You just pick up whatever looks good and eat outta the box,” Dean says, picking up a box of chow Mein. “And when you’re tired of that, you put it down and grab the next thing that tickles your fancy.”

“If you’re sure,” Cas says, skeptically grabbing a box of sweet and sour chicken. He picks around for a minute, with Dean’s eyes on him, before he finds a suitable piece and pops it into his mouth. Dean’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Well?” Dean asks as he puts a forkful of noodles into his mouth. Cas chews for a minute before swallowing.

“It’s, uh, pretty good,” he answers, scooping another forkful into his mouth while Dean laughs his charming laugh. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, eating until most of the food is gone.

“So, we’re roommates,” Dean says, and Castiel nods. “So, let’s learn a little bit more about each other, how about that?”

“Sure,” Cas says, a bit nervously. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno, the basics,” Dean shrugs, gathering the empty cartons inside of each other. “Like, where’re you from?”

“Brownsville,” Cas replies. “You?”

“Hey! That’s where they filmed Stand By Me, right?” Dean asks. Cas nods, smiling at Dean’s random trivia. It’s kinda cute. “I’m from Lawrence, Kansas.”

“You’re much farther from home than I am, aren’t you?” Cas chuckles, climbing onto his bed. Dean mirrors his actions, onto his own bed. “Don’t you miss it?”

“I haven’t had time to miss it,” Dean laughs. “I mean, classes are keeping me busy, and my mom made me promise to call her every couple of days, so I don’t forget about her or somethin’. It hasn’t really sunk in that I’m gone yet, y’know?”

Cas nods, smiling.

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters?” Dean asks, thinking of Sammy. “I’ve got this dorky kid brother, he’s only fifteen, and I love him. He’s a freakin’ genius. He’s probably going to get a free ride to Stanford or somethin’, if he keeps it up. I do miss him. He used to stay up late doin’ homework, and I’d stay up with him, just so he wouldn’t feel so lonely. I miss that. A lot. I hope he’s
alright.”

By the time he finishes speaking, Dean is mostly talking to himself, but Cas doesn’t say anything. They sit in silence for a minute, while Dean thinks about Sam.

“Sorry for rambling,” Dean says, nervously chuckling after a moment. “What about you? Siblings?”

“I’m not sure they’re proud to have me as a sibling anymore,” Cas mutters, looking at his hands in his lap. “But, yes, I have three older brothers and a younger sister.”

“I’m not sure how they couldn’t be proud of you, Cas,” Dean says, warmly. “You’re a pretty great person. Why do you say that?”

Suddenly, Cas seems to close in on himself, physically folding at the waist slightly, lost in his thoughts for a long moment before snapping out of it. He stands up quickly, balling his hands into fists, and Dean’s suddenly afraid Cas is going to punch him. Dean raises his hands, covering his face.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” Cas mutters, snatching his coat off the bed and slamming the door on his way out.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Dean didn’t hear Cas come in the night before, but he wakes up to a note scrawled in messy handwriting folded on his pillow, reading:

Dean,

Sorry for freaking out last night. I don’t want to think about my family for a while, if you don’t mind. Maybe I’ll explain sometime, over Chinese food?

Anyway, I’ve gone out to get some coffee. I hope you like lattes. (They’re my favorite).

Cas

Beside his name, it looks like Cas thought of writing Castiel, but decided against it. Dean smiles, folding the letter and putting it back on his pillow. Cas is shrouded in some sort of mysterious fog, that Dean can’t help but want to see through. Something about him is so captivating, but Dean can’t help but shy away from him at the same time. Dean can’t tell if he likes Cas, or if he likes Cas.

Dean’s never thought about a guy like that before, he’s always looked at girls, loved girls, liked girls. So why are Castiel’s lips so distracting? And why is his hair so damn adorable? And why is his laugh so unforgettable?

Dean’s fantasies are interrupted prematurely by Cas opening the door, holding a steaming cardboard cup.

“Good morning, Dean,” he says, grinning at Dean’s bedhead as Dean sits up groggily.

“Mornin’, Cas,” Dean replies, accepting the cup when Cas offers it. Cas sits down on his bed, shuffling through his notebooks and making a plan for his homework filled weekend. Dean just watches, noticing the way his fingers flit nervously over his own handwriting, trying to decide which is most important. It’s positively cute, Dean decides, putting his questions about his sexual orientation on the back burner to just enjoy his coffee and the view in front of him.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Dean throws all of his clothes back into his suitcase, completely disregarding which are clean and which are dirty. His mom’ll just want to wash all of them, anyway. After digging out his backpack and filling it with his books, he turns to face Castiel, who is sitting on his bed, appreciating the sound of Dean’s unconscious humming. It’s very relaxing, even if Cas can’t recognize the tune.

“You going home for Thanksgiving?” Dean asks, zipping up his bag.

“No,” Cas mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Dean to look at his hands. No matter how much he wants to fit in with Dean, he’s just different. Cas doesn’t have a warm house full of hot food and loving people to go back to, but his heart burns at the thought of it.

“You don’t have a girlfriend to go back to or anythin’?” Dean asks, his insides melting at the heartbroken look in Cas’s eyes.
Cas snorts, shaking his head. He smiles weakly, not even bothering to try and look happy. “No, nothing like that,” he says, quietly.

“Well, you can’t just sit around here all weekend,” Dean answers, double-checking his closet for any wayward clothes. He turns to face Cas’s confused expression again. The look on Dean’s face makes Cas’s heart skip a beat. “You’re comin’ home with me.”

“I couldn’t, Dean,” Castiel protests, his eyes widening. “I couldn’t impose on your family like that, and I won’t fit in at a family party like that. I’m fine staying here.”

“I refuse to let you do anything but come along,” Dean nearly orders, a grin playing on his face. “Besides, I’m sure my mom will love you, and that’s all family is, right? Illogical love?” Dean glows under the sound of Castiel’s soft laughter.

“If you insist,” Cas smiles, digging his suitcase out from under his bed. It only takes a few minutes for Cas to pack, before the boys are in Dean’s borrowed car, on their way to Lawrence.

~_~_~_~_~_~

It only takes them a little over a day to get to Dean’s hometown, since they could pretty much drive nonstop, switching drivers every couple hundreds of miles. When they were both awake, they talked about small things, and Cas asked about what Thanksgiving is like at the Winchester household.

However, as they approach Dean’s neighborhood, Cas begins shifting in his seat and chewing on his nails, nervously.

“You okay?” Dean asks, smiling at Cas as he watches from the corner of his eye. Cas smiles weakly, nodding his head, but Dean can feel his apprehension thicken. “You’ll be okay. Nobody’s gonna question your being here, okay?”

“Okay,” Cas mutters, his voice shaking. Dean just smiles at the road, continuing on to the two-story grey house of his childhood. As he pulls into the driveway, Dean’s halfway concerned Cas is going to throw up before they even get inside.

“Seriously, Dude,” Dean chuckles, amused by Cas’s jitters. His nervous expression is seriously adorable. “You’ll be fine.”

Cas doesn’t look convinced, even as Dean pats him on the shoulder and exits the car. Despite his wanting to run far away, he follows suit, walking around to the trunk of the car. He reaches for his suitcase, but Dean beats him to it.

“I can-“

“Sh,” Dean quiets Cas’s protest, “you’re a guest.”

Dean grins and walks up the path to the front door, with Castiel trailing closely behind him. Without knocking, Dean opens the door. Inside, noise of a football game and loud cheering pour from the living room, while Dean’s mom sings in the kitchen while she cooks. Cas feels warm and slightly more relaxed even without meeting anyone, but Dean can still tell from the set of his shoulders that he is tense.

Dean puts a finger to his lips as he creeps down the hallway to the kitchen. His mom is facing the stove, basting a huge turkey. Dean leans against the door frame, taking on a casual stance, while Cas does his best to hide behind Dean’s body.

“I expected more decorations,” Dean smirks, as his mom gasps, grinning as she spins around on her heel.

“Dean Winchester!” she shrieks, throwing herself at Dean. She wraps her arms around Dean’s slender neck, squeezing him and giggling like a child. Cas holds his breath as she lays eyes on him, but she just smiles harder. “And you brought a friend?”
Dean steps away from his mother’s embrace and shoulders Cas closer. “Yeah, Mom, this is-“

“I’m Castiel,” he interrupts, offering his hand to Mary. “But Dean calls me Cas.” Cas doesn’t see the way Dean’s face blossoms under his words.

“Well, welcome to the Winchester family, Cas,” Mary grins as she bypasses his hand and wraps her arms around Castiel’s shoulders. He’s not sure how to react, so Cas just leaves his arms at his sides, smelling the sweet smell of Mary’s perfume. It’s somehow brand new, yet familiar, and Castiel never wants to stop smelling it. Unfortunately, Mary is pulling away and yelling, “John! Sam! Dean’s here, with a buddy!”

Dean and Cas hang back as Mary enters the living room on the right. “See? You’re already part of the family,” Dean says, bumping Cas into the wall. Cas’s grin is quickly stifled when Sam bounds around the archway, heading straight for Dean.

“Dean!”

“Sammy!”

Dean grabs his brother by the waist, spinning him around, playfully. Sam’s long hair flops around in both of their faces, but Dean doesn’t mind. It reminds him that he’s home, finally. As does Sam gangly limbs jabbing him in all the wrong places, but that doesn’t bother him that much.

“You get one free pass,” Sam says, shoving Dean playfully on the shoulder. “My name is Sam.”

“Sure it is, kiddo,” Dean jokes, turning to face Cas. “Sam, this is Castiel, my roommate.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam greets, holding out his hand.

“You can call me Cas,” he says, taking Sam’s hand and smiling at Dean. Sam shrugs, grins again, and runs back to the game. Cas’s cheeks burn from his general shyness. He feels like a foreigner in a strange, too-warm land, where everyone is eyeing him suspiciously. The worst part, though, is that he can’t tell if he’s imagining it or not.

Next is John, towering over both Dean and Cas, but Dean greets him with a huge smile and a manly thump on the back, while Cas cowers behind Dean, smiling weakly and shaking his hand limply.

“He seems nice,” John whispers in Dean’s ear as he too returns to the riveting game on television. Dean nods his head, watching as Mary drags Cas into the kitchen for the extra help. He’s the only one who she can truly force into helping, and she knows Dean will join Cas. Right there, she doubles the amount of help.

Dean drops the suitcases in the hall before turning to see Cas, standing side-by-side with his mom, learning how to peel potatoes properly. Dean’s not sure how much melting his heart can handle, not with how often it does for Castiel.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Cas looks around the huge table, filled with a mostly-eaten feast, he feels comfortable, more comfortable than he ever felt with his own family. And, with that thought, his good mood falters. He can’t decide if he misses his family, if his family misses him, or if he even wants to be a part of a family anymore.

Dean kicks Cas’s shin under the table, concerned at his friend’s sudden fallen expression. While Sam and John debate about this sports team and that sports team, Dean leans closer to his friend. “You okay?” he whispers.

Cas shrugs his shoulders, limply, trying to pull himself together. He doesn’t want to put a damper on Dean’s Thanksgiving.

“Hey, Mom,” Dean says, loudly this time. “Dinner was awesome, but I’m gonna pass out in my plate if I don’t go to sleep right now. You feel me, Cas?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cas replies, smiling a surprised smile at Dean. “I’ve never driven that far before.”

“Of course, boys,” Mary exclaims. “Cas, you can take Sam’s room-“

“Hey!” Sam groans, but is silenced by a sharp look from Mary.

“Cas, you can take Sam’s room,” Mary repeats, nodding at Dean. “I put clean sheets on it, don’t worry. Dean, you can show him. Love you both.”

Dean and Cas pick up their plates, placing them in the sink, which is almost completely full, anyway. Dean’s hand briefly brushes against Castiel’s, and Dean knows he enjoys the way his fingers tingle afterwards way too much. Castiel probably didn’t even notice.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas mumbles as he stumbles blindly up unfamiliar stairs after Dean.

“No problem, Bro,” Dean answers, opening the door to the Sam’s room. It’s still jammed full of books, spilling over the shelves and onto the floor, just like it always has been. Usually, they’re on the bed, too, but Mary seems to have quickly swept them off the foot of the bed, and they are now lying in a pile on the ground. “Here you go. You can just put your stuff, y’know, anywhere.”
Cas nods, smiling harder.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says again as Dean smirks and closes the door.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Dean jolts awake by a loud crashing and a muffled, “Fuck!” from Sam’s room. Dean’s out of bed in a second, sleepily feeling his way along the short span of wall between his and Sam’s rooms, quieting his mother’s soft questions from the end of the hall.
Dean taps on the door before opening it, not bothering to wait for a reply. They live in a six-by-ten cell together, nothing Cas could be doing would shock Dean. Instead of what Dean expected (that Cas fell out of bed), he finds the lights on, and Castiel is scrambling to pick up a large pile of spilled books. On the bed, the blankets are relatively untouched, and there are at least thirty books spread over them, except in one corner, at the headboard, where Cas was reading them.

“I apologize, Dean,” Cas says, quickly, cowering away from Dean’s advancing form. Castiel covers his face in a defensive position, as Dean sits down across the pile from him, concern written all over his face.

Dean doesn’t like to see his friend with such terror haunting his eyes, as he remembers some horrible thing from his past. It pulls at Dean’s stomach, and all he wants to do is wrap Cas in a hug, but he knows that won’t help anything. So, he starts stacking the books until Castiel’s breathing slows down a little.

With all the books put away, Dean is now sitting directly in front of Cas, trying to make eye contact, but Cas won’t let him. “I’m sorry,” Castiel whispers, quietly.

“It’s okay, man,” Dean murmurs, placing just the tips of his fingers on Cas’s knee. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now, but it’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re okay, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Something in Cas shifts, and his eyes look a little warmer as he smiles wanly, shrugging his shoulders. “I know you won’t,” he answers, quickly running his fingers over the back of Dean’s hand. “Thanks. For everything.”

“No problem,” Dean says, removing his hand from Cas’s knee. He stands up, crossing over to the bed and examining each book.

“You can’t have read all of these, it’s only been like five hours.”

“I just skim them, reading some chapters and looking at pictures,” Cas explains, clearing a few away, so Dean can sit on the bed next to him. “I’ve already done it to all my textbooks, but Sam has a real collection here.”

“Why do you do it?” Dean asks, watching Cas investigate the publishing information of The Grapes of Wrath.

“I don’t like to sleep, sometimes,” Cas says, his eyes flashing that steely look again. It’s the ‘I’m definitely not okay’ look. Dean doesn’t want Cas to have to ever look like that again, so he puts his fingertips on Cas’s knee again.

“You don’t have to worry about anythin’ when you’re here,” Dean answers, rubbing circles with his fingers. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

Cas looks at Dean blankly for a second before smiling.

“Okay.”

“I’ll do anything for you, man” Dean admits, honestly. The rhythmic circles stutter for a second, as Dean second guesses himself. Maybe Cas isn’t ready for this deep of a friendship? Maybe he’ll think Dean’s making a move on him? Maybe Dean is making a move on him?

“Anything?” Cas asks, uncertainly squinting his tired blue eyes. There are dark purple bags under his eyes, which make Dean think he hasn’t slept properly in several days.

“Anything.”

“Will you stay here until I fall asleep?” Cas asks, in a small voice as his cheeks burn a deep red, and he plays with his fingers in his lap. “If you think that’s weird, I get it. I’ll fall asleep event-“

“Of course I will, Cas,” Dean interrupts, letting out a breathy chuckle. He’s laughing because of course he’ll stay here and watch Cas sleep. Why wouldn’t he? He does every other night, in their ridiculously small room back on campus. “Of course I will.”

Cas smiles and nods his head by way of thanks, as Dean gets up and turns off the light. Once they are bathed in darkness, Cas scoots over, until his shoulder is pressed against the wall, and there is enough room for Dean to crawl onto the bed next to him.
They lie there for a moment, listening to each other breathe and stretch and prepare themselves for sleep.

And, sure, maybe Dean laid down a little too close to Cas, just to feel Cas’s body pressed against his, to feel Cas’s breath playing against his cheek. And, sure, maybe Dean made sure he fell asleep first, so he’d have an excuse to be there in the morning.

And, sure, maybe feeling Cas’s arm draped across his waist and feeling Cas’s legs tangled up with his own, made Dean happier than anything else in this world.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Ever since Thanksgiving, something’s changed between Dean and Castiel. They’re closer, more like brothers than roommates, but with a more profound bond. Dean’s not sure what happened to make it so, but he sure is glad it did. They study together, eat together, and plan their schedules around each other.

However, it still surprises Dean when one night, in the middle of deciding what to eat for dinner, Cas asks, “Do you want me to tell you about my family tonight?”

Cas says it with such a straight face and such a monotonous voice, that Dean’s not sure he understood correctly. “What?” Dean asks, looking up from his textbook. A nervous sort of knot forms in his stomach, suddenly ridding him of his appetite.

“My family. You’re curious, I know you are,” Castiel says, underlining something in his book and making a point not to look at Dean. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Of course,” Dean blurts out, blushing at his brashness. “If you want to, of course.”

“I want to make you happy, Dean,” Cas murmurs, closing his book with a satisfying smack.

“How about we go get some coffee?” Dean suggests, tossing his textbook on the floor.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Fifteen minutes later, in a small, unpopulated corner of a dim coffeehouse, Dean and Castiel huddle together, sipping their drinks. Dean loves the way Cas plays with the foam of his latte before he drinks it. It’s innocent and cute, not often words he could use to describe Cas, even though he wants to.

“Well, the first thing you should know about my family is that they’re all extremely, radically, conservatively Christian,” Cas starts, letting out a deep breath. “My father is the pastor of a small church, and we all went to church Sunday morning and evening, and on Wednesday nights. Every day there was an hour of worship after dinner, which Father would lead. I hated it. I hated every minute of it.”

“You don’t believe in God?” Dean asks, not particularly caring about whether Cas does or not. He just wants to understand the story.

“Not their God,” Cas mutters, swirling the foam in his cup with his finger tip. “Anyway, I have a couple older brothers: Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel. They all mindlessly follow our dad, doing whatever he says, believing whatever he says. I never thought like them. Never. But Anna was different, or, at least, I thought Anna was different. She always complained about Father with me, when we were supposed to be doing homework or something. I thought she was on my side.”

“Your side?” Dean asks, watching as Cas seems to break apart inside. His lips twitch and a few tears drop out of his eyes and onto the table.

“My side. I would often start debates with Michael or Gabriel. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to play this part, I guess,” Cas almost sobs. “And these debates would always get back to Father, with my arguments spun out of proportion, and he would get so angry. He would try to ‘beat the devil out of me’ with anything. His fists. His belt. Books. A baseball bat, once.”

“Oh, Cas,” Dean says, hoping the sheer fury rising up in him was not conveyed through his voice. The idea of someone hitting Castiel, hurting him, breaks Dean’s restraint. He reached out, wiped a tear from Castiel’s cheek, and then moved his hand down to Cas’s, gripping it firmly.

“So, I told my parents I wanted to go to college, to learn about anything other than Jesus and his miracles,” Cas chuckles to himself, looking past Dean’s shoulder at the posters on the wall. “I just wanted to get away, and I already had this scholarship lined up. But, of course, they said no. I couldn’t go unless it was to a decent Christian college. So, I just said, “They won’t let a gay kid into a school of prudes.” I don’t know why. It just slipped out. I never meant to tell them, never.” Cas buries his face in his free hand, while Dean strokes the other one with his slender fingers.

“You don’t have to keep telling me,” Dean whispers, wiping a stray tear away when Cas looks at him again with puffy eyes. Even as Cas’s story breaks his heart, Dean can’t help but feel a bit relieved. He actually has a shot with Castiel!

“I’m almost done,” Cas says, his voice hoarse and broken. “So, I, uh, accidentally came out to my parents, and they freaked out. My father started hitting me, as usual, so I just curled up and pretended I wasn’t there. I pretended my own father wasn’t spitting on me and calling me a faggot and other horrible things like that. I pretended I was already at college when my brothers joined in, too. And I pretended she wasn’t my sister, when Anna wouldn’t look me in the eye and called me an abomination.”
Castiel takes a moment to just let fat tears roll down his cheeks, breaking Dean’s heart. Everything he’d thought could’ve happened to Cas was nothing compared to this story. Dean had had no idea just how broken Cas was until now. He could hear it in Cas’s voice, the hurt, the confusion, the rawness of these wounds.

“I just ran upstairs to my room, threw some clothes in a suitcase, and ran out the door,” Cas concludes his tale. “I ran as fast as I could. My ribs ached, and my head was bleeding, but I didn’t go anywhere for help. I didn’t deserve it. I still don’t. Anna was right, I am an abomination.”

“Don’t say that, Castiel,” Dean murmurs, swiftly switching sides of the table to wrap his arms around Cas’s shaking shoulders.

“You are worth everything in the world. You are amazing and funny and a freakin’ genius, alright? You are totally selfless, and you hang out with me. I mean, seriously, that takes a lot of commitment.”

After a few minutes, Cas stops crying so hard, but he doesn’t move out of Dean’s grasp. It feels so warm, so comforting, and he never wants it to end. He wants Dean to be touching him at all times, no matter what. His hands are so perfect, rubbing ovals on his back, as if writing a secret code through Cas’s clothes.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispers, as Cas nuzzles Dean’s neck. “I love you so much. And I don’t mean it in the friendly, ‘you’re my best friend’ kind of love. I mean I love you, Cas. You are the light of my life, the reason I get up in the morning, the last thing I see before I go to sleep.”

Cas sits back a little, wiping the few remaining tears from his eyes. “I love you, too, Dean,” he replies, as suddenly Dean surges forward, closing the distance between them with a chaste, loving kiss. Cas’s lips open underneath Dean’s, allowing Dean’s tongue to slip inside Cas’s mouth, exploring every ridge, every dip, every bump inside. Cas does the same, savoring the taste of cheap coffee on Dean’s tongue as they tangle again. After a moment, Cas pulls back gasping for air. He wraps his fingers in the collar of Dean’s plaid shirt, so tightly his knuckles turn white. Dean grips his wrists, loosely holding them in place. They just stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, as they both realize what’s going on.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, closing his eyes. Dean doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just leans forward again, pressing kisses to Cas’s jaw, sucking a dark bruise into the sensitive skin just under his ear. “Dean,” Cas says, this time his voice more of a whine.

“C’mon,” Dean grunts, dragging Cas out of the booth. Wrapping his arm around Cas’s waist, Dean leads a dazed Castiel back to the dorm.

Unlocking the door takes longer than usual, due to Cas’s shaking hands. Dean’s not sure if he’s nervous or still shook up from telling his story to Dean, but all he knows is he needs to kiss Cas again, soon. Nearly slamming the door behind them, they don’t bother turning on the lights as Cas clambers onto his bed, shedding his coat. Dean does the same, dropping his jacket and his flannel shirt on the ground.

Cas cups Dean’s face in his hands before pressing his lips to Dean’s again, licking his way into the space between his lower lip and his teeth. Dean moans softly, letting his hands roam over Cas’s body, feeling for the first time the way, even though Cas is skinny, his tummy has a little pudge on it, the way his arms feel under Dean’s fingertips. Finally, Dean leans back, taking a deep breath before he leans back in to press kisses to Cas’s neck.

Cas slips his fingers under Dean’s tee-shirt, lightly scratching the firm muscles there. Suddenly, he feels self-conscious. His dad was right, he’s sick and disgusting and abhorrent. Cas pulls his hands away from Dean, scooting out of Dean’s grasp as well, gritting his teeth.

“Cas?” Dean asks, breathless and flushed. His hair is already a bit messy, sticking up at funny angles.

“You don’t want to do this, Dean,” Cas laughs, gesturing to his body. “Look at me, I’m a mess. A big, gross mess.”

“You’re not a mess, gross or otherwise,” Dean murmurs, pulling his now-more-than friend into his arms. He feels Cas’s breathing level out after a moment and nudges his chin to look up again. “You’re amazing. And beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Cas.”

Cas blushes.

Dean kisses Cas again, slow and tender, running his fingertips under Cas’s shirt. Breaking the kiss for just a moment, Cas leans back and peels off the offending layer of cotton, tugging at the bottom of Dean’s until he does the same. Laying back against the pillow, Cas pulls Dean on top of him, showering his bare shoulders with soft kisses and harsh nips of his teeth.

“Cas,” Dean groans, feeling his chest slide against Cas’s. With his hips nestled between Cas’s legs like this, Dean can clearly feel the press of Cas’s erection against the fly of his jeans, and Dean is sure Cas can feel his, too. Unconsciously, Cas rolls his hips against Dean’s, searching for any possible friction. His head is spinning with want, as his hands scrabble against Dean’s back, leaving red streaks.

“Please,” Cas gasps against Dean’s swollen lips, this time purposefully pressing his crotch against Dean’s. Even in his desperation, Dean smirks, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Please, what?” Dean asks, nuzzling against Cas’s shoulder. His skin feels so warm and smooth against Dean’s cheek. It’s a comforting feeling, and makes Dean grins, nipping the sensitive skin.

“Please just do something,” Cas groans, writhing under Dean’s lean body and wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist. Dean kisses Cas again, swiping his tongue against Castiel’s teeth while he lets Cas rub against him, moaning. After a moment, Dean can’t be bothered with teasing anymore and rips open the zipper on Cas’s pants, exposing his damp boxers to the chilly air in the dorm. Dean ghosts his fingertips over Cas’s chest, which brings the breathiest sighs out of Cas’s perfect mouth.

Dean pulls at the waist band of Cas’s underwear, tugging them down to his knees, before doing the same to his own pants. When Dean returns to his rightful spot on top of Castiel, there’s that first perfect moment of skin-on-skin, which drives a harsh gasp from Dean’s mouth before Cas silences him with his swollen lips.

Cas feels like his whole body is on fire when Dean starts moving, with just the perfect amount of resistance before the precum leaking out of their cocks slickens the way. For a few desperate moments, Dean sucks on the skin on Cas’s neck while desperately pumping his hips against Cas’s.

Suddenly, Cas cries out, spilling his hot cum between the both of them as he ravages Dean’s mouth again, sucking on his bottom lip. That’s all Dean needs for his hips to stutter one last time before releasing his load on to Cas’s stomach.
Breathing hard, both of them kick their pants off the rest of the way, Dean wiping the mess up with his underwear, before laying on their sides, facing each other. Dean runs his fingers over Cas’s flushed cheeks, so completely satisfied with the situation. Cas snuggles closer, slipping his head under Dean’s chin and pressing soft kisses to Dean’s chest.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas whispers, sleepily as he slowly drifts away.

“I don’t know why,” Dean chuckles while his eyelids, too, seem to slip shut on their own accord.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Suddenly, June has reared its ugly head, signifying the end of the school year, and Dean is afraid of how three months apart will affect his now very public relationship with Cas. He’s not sure where Cas is going to spend the summer, or, if Dean offered, if Cas would even want to come home with him. As he folds the last of his clothes, Dean turns to find Cas staring at him, with tears pooling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Dean asks, inviting Cas to come closer with a small wave of his hands. When Cas is within arm’s reach, Dean pulls him in closer by the belt loops on his pants. Cas leans his head against Dean’s shoulder, listening to the pounding of
his heart and counting each beat.

“You’re leaving,” Cas moans, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck.

“You aren’t?” Dean asks, rubbing circles on Cas’s shoulder blades.

“I have nowhere to go,” Cas mumbles, his cheeks burning, even though he knows Dean would never make him feel bad about things like this.

“Of course you do,” Dean laughs, leaning back to look at Cas’s face. “You are always welcome at my house. Always. Even if we broke up, for some god-awful reason, you can still come back with me, okay? Because you deserve a family and love, and I want you to always have it.”

“I’m not sure your mother will be happy-“

“My mother loves you. C’mon, we’re leaving in twenty minutes,” Dean chuckles, winking and pressing a soft kiss against Cas’s rough cheek. “And I have some idea of how to spend the time until then.”