Chapter Text
Roommate. It’s a weird word when you think about it for too long. And it’s really not the word Cas would describe him with. Well, he does share a room with him, so it’s not wrong, even if it feels off.
They’re polar opposites if he’s being honest. And not the kind that are completing each other. It’s hard to explain.
If Cas had to find exactly one word to describe his “roommate” it would be… striking. And it’s not just his looks. Don’t get him wrong, his eyes have haunted Cas’ dreams for a while now, and that brown, old, worn-down leather jacket he always wears only adds to his level of attractiveness. But even if he’s just lived with Cas for about six weeks now, having started with the spring semester and mostly keeping to himself, it’s already pretty clear that he’s very smart and ambitious.
Cas, though non-confrontational as he’d describe himself, is the opposite of reserved. People often describe him as intense and penetrative; funny, as he considers himself a top in the bedroom. He’s very open about his sexuality and really doesn’t have a problem with modesty, much to his roommate’s initial shock. By now, he makes sure to always sleep with boxers on, because as intense as he might be, he does respect people’s boundaries. That’s also why he quit smoking weed in their dorm, not because his “roommate” asked him to stop, but because Cas is decent enough to behave like a respectable human being.
Lastly, he considers himself a hedonist, seeing as his sexual behavior is based on the pursuit of pleasure without the requirement for love or commitment. In other words; Cas is an unapologetic male whore and most people in his life know about it. It’s always been like this for him since he was a teen. Sex has intrigued him more than any other teenage boy he knew and was well aware he was gay way back then.
And that might be the biggest difference between them: his roommate is not only very private but strictly into women.
Even though, Dean is very intriguing and Cas has to admit that he likes to watch him when they’re in the room together, which doesn’t happen often because Cas is mostly hanging out at the place of the people he fucks. So when they’re together, he just observes Dean go about his day, sitting on the bed and reading for class, or at the desk and biting his pencil while focusing on the problem he’s trying to solve, sometimes propping himself up on the desk while searching the internet for useful information on his papers where his shirt rises up his back and reveals wonderfully soft skin and a very intriguing arch of his spine…
Yes, it’s obvious that Dean’s attractive and that Cas is attracted to him in certain ways, but Dean’s a lady’s man and so Cas sticks to observing him while pretending to write something into his notes that he hasn’t updated for quite some time.
There’s just something so very sensual and intimate in almost everything that Dean does; how he moves, how he talks to people, how he touches things, how he gets dressed in the morning… Like come on, does he really need to stretch his delicious stomach that much when he pulls on his shirt? Do people normally do that? And his voice in the morning, holy fuck. Cas has a normally deep and raspy voice, but Dean could make a fuck ton of money with his rough barely-awake and unused voice.
And because there’s been more watching from Cas’ side than anything else, all Cas really knows about Dean from the handful of words that they’ve exchanged is his age, what he studies, and where he comes from.
As you see, there’s yet so much more to know about his “roommate” but Cas keeps a respectful distance and waits for Dean to open up to him some more at his own pace.
That’s why Cas is once again hanging out at someone else’s place right now, leaving the bathroom after a quick fresh-up that was pretty necessary considering his previous activities with the guy still lounging naked in bed. Cas thinks his name is Troy, but he met him kind of stoned, so there’s a pretty big chance he might be wrong. It was an okay hookup, but not good enough to stay any longer, so instead of joining Troy in bed again, Cas starts to collect his clothes that have been thrown literally everywhere.
“You don’t wanna join me for another round?” Troy asks and Cas shakes his head, pulling on his jeans and meeting his eyes.
To be honest, Cas isn’t really feeling it tonight. Don’t get him wrong, he loves sex and he always enjoys it, but more than a quick satisfaction is just not in it for him today. “Nah, I’m getting kinda tired,” Cas says, pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing his keys that have ended up on the floor as well.
“What a shame,” is all Troy says and Cas gives him a quick apologetic smile before putting on his shoes and opening the door. “I’ll see you around, then.”
“Right,” Cas nods, walking out of the apartment and closing the door behind him. As much as he enjoys random hookups, leaving is and will always be kind of awkward. And you’d think he would have figured it out by now…
He told Dean he’d be out for the night but thinking about going to the club, even if just to sit in one of the few booths, doesn’t sit right with him tonight. So while he makes his way back to campus, Cas hopes Dean won’t be mad he’s back earlier than usual.
The air is fresh out at night, but Cas is still heated from his previous activities and he’s generally feeling pretty good. That’s partly to thank the weed for, its effects still have him relaxed and satisfied. His eyes are still kind of slow and lazy, but Cas would know his way around campus blindfolded, so that’s not a problem.
Once Cas arrives at the door, he does fumble just slightly with the key, but is very careful not to make any loud sounds when he walks inside and closes the door behind him. One quick glance tells him that Dean’s in his bed, sleeping peacefully, and Cas would usually take his time just watching Dean sleep for a bit. He doesn’t know why he does it, aware that it’s weird, but something about sleeping Dean is just so very uninhibited and free…
But he’s way more tired than he thought and stumbles out of his clothes before burying himself in his bed and closing his eyes. He dreams of green eyes and slick pale skin, and when he wakes up in the morning, with pictures of dream-Dean still before his eyes, Cas isn’t surprised to find he’s completely hard in his boxers, with a wet patch already forming on it. This seems to become a more regular thing now…
——
As February and March progress, things slowly change between them. For one, their dynamic has shifted into something different, into something beyond being roommates. They become good friends as Dean comes out of his shell. He’s still quiet and distant, but when Cas is there to talk to him, Dean actually engages with him. And he’s actually a cocky brat at times. Who would have thought?
Dean’s daring him here and then, his smirk confident. But there’s also something lingering in his gaze that Cas can’t quite wrap his fingers around. He doesn’t know how to deal with Dean since he’s never truly maintained a friendship — except for his childhood friend Samandriel — because he usually sleeps with everyone he knows.
Cas is careful not to slip around him, but not leaning closer to Dean, not speaking his dirty mind when he says something very ambiguous or licking those perfectly plump lips whenever he’s surprisingly close to Cas is way harder than it sounds. But he manages, with lots of distraction from other guys, pot, and with lots of sex…
That is until one fateful night at the end of April, when their heavily loaded and intense staring-at-each-other-contest has Cas close the space between them and capture Dean’s lips in a desperate kiss. And even with Dean’s exploring tongue hesitantly sliding into Cas’ mouth and his soft little gasp at whatever he’s finding in there, he’s at the other end of the room the next second and staring at Cas in arousal but mostly shock.
Clearly, having been queer ever since Cas could spell the word penis, he should’ve known better than to fall weak for a straight guy…
But the straight guy in question is Dean. Dean with big green eyes filled with barely concealed fear and desire. What was he supposed to do? He’s no saint, and he’s definitely not passing on someone like Dean, however brief this moment had been.
And then it downs on Cas, as Dean takes his keys with trembling hands and leaves the dorm; Dean doesn’t know what he wants. He’s, now clearer than ever, never experimented with sexuality and just ‘went’ with the crowd. Dean hasn’t figured himself out yet…
Castiel’s guess is confirmed when Dean starts avoiding him, even though he swears to Cas that he isn’t mad at him for kissing him.
And that’s how Cas ends up here; in the campus library of all places to be on a warm May noon…
When Cas enters the large top floor, all he sees at first are shelves. To be honest, he’s never been here before, if he needed a book or wanted to read, he got the e-book version — and truth be told, Cas rarely ever reads unless it is necessary. They are almost ceiling high and Cas starts to worry that he won’t find Dean in this labyrinth of books and shelves, and he doesn’t have any idea where to begin to search for him, so he walks straight ahead, hoping he’ll find a way through the small aisles in between towers of stacked knowledge.
Two minutes in and he’s cursing. Very smart of Dean to run here and hide from him, that little fucker. But Cas won’t give up, he has nowhere else to be, and if he knows one thing about this place, it’s open day and night.
Thankfully, though, Cas doesn’t have to take advantage of the opening hours, because when he takes a turn to the left once the shelves don’t allow him to walk straight forward anymore, he reaches a clear space where tables are set up for students to read and learn in silence. It’s the far left end of the building since the walls are floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking campus. There are only about ten tables set up here, placed in a row at the windows, only divided by varying types of dracaena trees. At least that’s what he gathers from only taking a second to search the space because his eyes almost immediately land on the person sitting at the last table in the sunny corner of the space.
Grinning triumphantly, Cas crosses the space in long strides and grabs the chair in front of Dean, pulling it out so he can sit down on it.
Dean only looks at him for a moment, raising a brow, before returning to his task without saying a word and Cas’ grin widens.
His triumphant feeling upon finding him is only secondary now that he looks at him. In the direct sunlight hitting him through the glass, Dean’s features are even softer than they already are normally. He’s reading something on his laptop, his eyes tracking the words, and his lashes cast beautiful shadows down the high of his cheeks. His lips are once again wrapped around the eraser of a pencil, and Cas fights hard to keep the images from flowing into his mind at the scene in front of him.
He just keeps staring, not saying anything either, and decides he should take some time to count Dean’s freckles one day. He’s never noticed them being as prominent as now and he wonders if there are other parts of his body covered in them as well. Every time Dean had shown skin, intentionally or not, Cas has never been close enough to tell…
For a slight second, Cas considers if it should worry him that he’s been spending more and more time just observing Dean and questions if this could even develop into some creepy, obsessive stalking-thing. But he brushes off the thought with rational thinking; if this was in any way creepy, Dean would’ve said something about it or voiced his discomfort.
Speaking of, it’s three or four minutes later when Dean starts to finally get nervous the way he usually does when Cas stares at him like that. He’s fiddling with the pencil, tapping it on his notes next to his laptop, his leg bounces underneath the table, and his face starts to flush. But Cas doesn’t waver, no, he could stare at Dean for a living.
Taking his eyes off the screen to look him straight in the eyes, Dean asks, “Do I have something on my face?”
Biting back a smile at Dean’s annoyance even though he’s obviously flustered, Cas shakes his head slightly and answers, “No, your face is perfect as always,” with a serious tone and he’s never said a word more true than that.
Dean is now very consciously trying not to bite his pencil and Cas gives him extra points for that. “I told you to stop with that…” He says it in a hushed tone, like this conversation is supposed to be a secret only between them and it irritates Cas enough that he crosses his arms in front of his chest, leaning all the way back in his seat, and stares at Dean with raised eyebrows as he asks, “Stop what?” He’s nothing if not provocative.
Dean huffs in annoyance and Cas wants to — affectionately — choke him. Because God, he’s such a fucking brat sometimes… And the thought of wrapping his hands around that delicate skin of his smooth neck stirs something inside of Cas…
Instead, he goes for rolling his eyes because he can play this game too. He increases his level of intensity as he keeps staring at the irresistibly handsome boy in front of him. Maybe if Cas keeps doing that, he’ll stare holes into Dean so he’ll finally be able to see what the hell is going on inside that head of his.
And besides that, it’s also entertaining to observe Dean trying and failing to keep up his mask as he starts to fidget. The attention makes him move self-consciously in his seat, his fingers twitching nervously where they rest next to the abandoned pencil on his notes as he’s probably only pretending to concentrate on whatever he was reading online before Cas intruded his space.
It makes Cas smile inwardly, and he breaks the silence once Dean seems like he’s going to nervously vibrate out of his seat. “You don’t like when I stare at you.”
“No, because it’s unsettling,” Dean answers immediately, his voice tight.
“Last time you used the word ‘intense’, what changed?” Cas grins wolfishly, leaning forward with his upper body, closer into Dean’s space.
He looks up again and asks in a long breath, “What are you doing here?”
“You’re ignoring me, so I’m trying to talk to you.“
“I’m not.”
“You are, Winchester,” Cas argues, he really wants to choke Dean now.
Instead of continuing this never-ending conversation, Dean meets his eyes and counters, “You’re doing a hell of a lot staring for someone who came in here with the intention to talk.” He raises an accusatory eyebrow and, hell, that’s it for Cas. No more sweet talking around the topic.
So he blurts, “And you’re not fooling me, Dean. It’s obvious.”
“It’s obvious, what?” He asks, crossing his arms like a petulant child and Cas will gladly answer that question.
“That you want me!” At that, Dean’s eyes snap up to his, wide and so, so green. He doesn’t say a word but that says all Cas needs to know and he adds, “You can try to avoid me but that won’t make these feelings go away.”
The next moment, Dean’s expression goes from irritated to vulnerable and he lowers his gaze, not adding anything else to the conversation.
And Cas is fucking confused.
Dean is the one having to figure himself out, Cas knows what and who he likes. He’s been out since he was a teen, never stuck in a closet, never even questioning his sexuality. It’s a privilege, he’s well aware of that, being able to tell and accept that you’re gay is not as easy for everyone. And Cas wants to give him space. He needs to give him space. But right now ‘space’ feels like losing his chance of ever kissing Dean again and it’s driving him crazy.
It’s making him question things and he never questions things. He goes for them. But then he also fucks them and never sees them again… so maybe Cas should really take a step back and think. But that’s really hard, especially when Dean suddenly leaves his place to walk to the first shelf in their reach to pretend like he’s searching for a book — at least that’s what Cas thinks, but thinking is not his strong suit lately.
So he gets up and follows Dean, watching him slide the book he pretended to be interested in back into its slot. ‘Summa Theologiae, Questions on God,’ seriously?
Dean keeps pretending to search for the right literature, still in the books on Christianity section, and reaches up to the top of the shelf to grab another random book, and Cas can’t help but smile in amusement – at least Dean’s committed. He also can’t resist sliding in even closer behind him and slipping his hands under Dean’s shirt that untucked itself as he stretched to reach whatever crap he’s holding in his hand now.
Funnily, Cas knows Dean is ticklish so he’s already smirking as he runs his fingers up along his ribs even before Dean squirms at his touch, trying to move away from him. His efforts are lacking though, not even half as committed to pretending to not like the attention as to finding the book.
“Oh, sorry,” Cas rasps, his voice pitched low and grinning, “Did I interrupt your search for God?” His hands slide around Dean's front, feeling his bare stomach, and he revels in the fact that Dean doesn’t even seem to remember that a minute ago, he was literally running away from him.
Leaning in, Cas makes sure to whisper the next words into his ears, leaving only breath between them now, “I thought you were an atheist. But either way, I don’t think God would be much of help in your situation…”
Dean’s arm drops from where it was stretched above his head to pull on books and he sighs, hanging his head as he lets his body fall just the slightest bit further against Cas’ chest. And Cas uses his position to lean in and kiss the line of his neck, biting the warm skin there lightly. A smile spreads across his face when Dean makes another breathy sound, this one coming low and from deep within. It stirs something inside of Cas. Something more than just lust.
Using his grip on him, Cas spins Dean around, his mind made up, and grabs him by the hips to pull him in. He kisses Dean without wasting one more second thinking about whether this is right and also forgetting that Dean still wants space. Because fuck that, no one looks at him like that and wants to be left alone.
They’re kissing roughly, tongues chasing each other and teeth clashing, and when Dean buries both hands in his hair, pulling Cas’ face down to kiss him harder, Cas loses his last restraints and backs Dean up against the shelf a bit too harshly. Books fall out of the shelf on both sides, landing on the floor with loud crashing noises that echo through the wide and open space of the library.
He feels Dean pull back, his head thumping lightly against the shelf, disturbing the books in there, and Cas lets him breathe while staring at the beauty in front of him. Dean's pupils widen as he stares into Cas’ blue ones and he can clearly see the vulnerability shining in them, his fears barely concealed – raw, open for Cas to see. His mouth is open as well, harsh breaths coming out and slowly drying his spit-slick lips that are plump from kissing him so hard.
Cas notices that the shirt is still rucked up from where his hands have touched his stomach before, and Dean’s hair is a mess. Honestly, he can’t remember putting his hands in them but they certainly didn’t look like that before. The sight makes him want to touch and take.
His hands are still on Dean’s hip, but Cas allows them to move to the center of Dean’s stomach, feeling his pulse speed up through his soft skin as he continues to move his palms up until they are lying flat against Dean's heaving chest.
The swell of his pecs is enough for Cas to grip slightly, squeezing, and brush a nipple softly with his thumb. He watches Dean very closely while doing so, and smiles when his eyes track Cas’ every move intently. When Dean catches him staring, there’s a moment of insecurity, a pause, like he’s not sure what his next move should be. And then his eyes shut as he takes a deep breath and Cas lifts his chin, tilting his head to meet Dean's descending lips.
And holy hell, this is something he’s never done before but dreamt of ever since he met Dean: taking his time. Like truly kissing someone and not just ravishing their mouth and devouring them like a hungry beast.
Their lips brush against each other and it’s the first time Cas notices just how perfectly Dean’s upper lip fits between his and how good it feels when Dean kisses his lower lip before opening up and slowly, almost experimentally, dipping his tongue into Cas’ mouth, licking into him.
His body feels electrified, his nerves on fire. It gives him goosebumps, the way they kiss. This is so much more than kissing. This is connecting. They’re connecting.
That is until they’re disconnected when someone rounds the corner and reprimands, “Hey, what are you two doing?! This is a public library and not a cheap motel room!” Dean pulls back immediately, his lower lip plopping out of Cas’ mouth where he’d been nibbling on it, and Cas groans loudly.
Turning his head with an annoyed expression, Cas looks at the librarian, who’s crossed his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows shooting far up his forehead. He feels Dean drop his head to his shoulder, his large hands wrapped around Cas’ upper arms for leverage, before slowly retracting from him and it makes Cas want to smash the librarian’s head in.
“If I catch you two make out in here one more time,” he says, pointing a finger at them, “You’ll get banned from entering the library.”
Dean slips out of Cas’ hold and pulls his shirt back down, his cheeks flaming red, head bowed as he hurries to grab his stuff before walking away and leaving Cas behind, flushed and rumpled. He’s about to take off as well, when the librarian whistles at him aggressively and points at the scattered books on the floor. “Who do you think is going to clean up that mess? Put them back in right order or I’ll whoop your ass.”
Great…
——
He doesn’t see Dean for three days after that. It’s actually weird. Cas used to be the one staying out for the night. Some days, he still does. But Dean not coming back is… unnerving.
Instead of running from conversations with Cas, he’s now very actively and completely avoiding him altogether. It makes Cas feel… well, he doesn’t really know what he feels. This is the first time he cares about someone this intensely and he thought they were taking a step forward after the kiss they shared in the library. Instead, he’s now worried that he might have ruined every chance of ever getting Dean the way he wants him.
It’s Tuesday night, Cas is coming out of the bathroom, having just taken a cold shower to clear his head, and walking toward the closet lazily, not caring that he’s naked or that the curtains are opened. He’s not in the mood to care about clothes and just grabs the first sweatpants he can reach, pulls them on and ruffles his wet hair so it doesn’t dry flat. It’s getting longer, dark curls clinging to his forehead, and he decides he’ll have to cut it before it gets so long it’s in his eyes all the time.
Usually, he likes his hair a bit longer. People compliment him for it and he thinks it suits him. It’s also a bonus during sex; his partners have somewhere to bury their hands in and something to pull at. But the main reason he won’t cut it all off is because he remembers how Dean threaded his fingers through it while making out with him. And he’d give absolutely anything to feel that again.
The train of thought leaves Cas feeling even more depressed than he’d already been and he does the only reasonable thing he knows; smoke. Sitting down on his bed, Cas decides to fuck his rule of not smoking in the dorm since Dean isn’t showing up anyway and pulls his stuff out of his nightstand drawer. He opens the plastic container, grabs a rolling paper, puts the crutch at the end and fills it with shake. As he’s rolling the paper back and forth, doing something he’s so used to by now it’s muscle memory, Cas already feels better.
He’s contemplating what music to put on as he licks the paper before sealing it, when the door opens and Dean walks in. Within seconds, Cas has shoved the plastic container and his almost-done joint back into his drawer and closed it to hide any evidence of it before looking at Dean and standing up.
There’s no acknowledging Cas’ presence or just as much as looking at him and Cas has had enough of this game. As he walks toward his general direction, Cas watches Dean pull out a duffel bag before he stuffs it with clothes, shoving shirts and pants and socks into it haphazardly.
“I’m going to stay at Cassie’s for a while,” is all Dean has to say, still not looking at Cas, who’s standing right behind him with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Why?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows. And who the fuck is Cassie again?
“I want to spend time with her is all,” Dean mumbles and Cas huffs a laugh, correcting, “No, you’re avoiding me.” Or in other words; Dean’s running back to the one thing that feels ‘normal’ to him: straight sex. Where he doesn’t have to think about societal norms because he fits right in, where he doesn’t have to face the unknown, face being an ‘outcast’ for his preferences…
At that, Dean stops with the packing and stands up straight, finally meeting Cas’ angered gaze. He shakes his head, “I thought we were over that already. I’m not avoiding you.”
And that’s it, Cas finally has enough of him and his behavior lately. Taking a step forward into Dean’s space, Cas slams his arm into his chest and backs him up against the wall, literally cornering him, standing mere inches away from him. He narrows his eyes at him and bites, “Don’t lie to me, Winchester.”
Oh, the way Dean’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his mouth in defeat but no words are coming out… Cas could kiss that stupid bastard until he suffocates, then breathe all his air into him just to do it all over again.
“I’m not, Cas,” Dean argues weakly and he’s trying to use his big boy voice now.
But he’s still not fooling Cas. “Do you think I’m stupid? Tell me the truth.”
“Cas, I’m really not–“
“I’m asking you one more time to be honest with me or I’m gonna be really upset, Dean,” Cas says, his voice low and rough, trying not to sound threatening though.
Dean sighs, hanging his head. His hair is now almost tickling Cas’ chin because they’re so close together that there’s barely space for Dean to hang his head unless he wants to smash his face into Cas’ chest. So Cas steps back, retracting his arm from Dean’s torso and the other off the wall, giving him room to breathe.
“You’re right…” Dean whispers then, as if not wanting to admit the obvious. “It’s just… I’m confused. Fuck, Cas… how can I kiss someone and—,” the fact that Dean doesn’t even say his name irritates Cas some more, “—fuck. Someone like you, like…” A guy, Cas’ mind adds. “I don’t know if I’m… like that… I don’t know if I even want this…” He points a finger between them both and Cas knows it’s a lie. Dean wanted to end the sentence with a different statement but didn’t, he’s sure about it.
“Running away from me won’t change anything,” Cas rasps, trying to catch Dean’s eyes, “Besides, it’s your dorm as well. Unless you’re planning on moving in with one of your friends, you’ll have to see me sooner or later.”
Dean lifts his head and his eyes lock on Cas’ as he says, “You can’t make out with me anymore every time I run…”
Truth be told, Cas may be at fault here. He’s been the one chasing Dean and kissing him even though he wanted space. Still, he didn’t think hearing those words would hurt the way they do. The only way he knows how to cope with this kind of feeling is to swallow it down and play his humor. So he lifts his hands in surrender and quips, “No more ravishing your mouth. I swear.” His words are met with a skeptical look from Dean and he assures, “I really mean it. Timeout.”
Pointing a finger at him, Dean shakes his head. “No. No timeout! Timeout would mean resuming something after a certain time and there won’t be a future.”
The way he says it almost makes Cas think he means it, and while Dean might have convinced himself that he does, the look in his eyes betrays his words. Cas tells himself he’s not ready yet, and he tries to understand Dean’s side. It’s hard, though, because he’s not the right person for this. He can’t really sympathize with this situation because he’s never been closeted. What he can sympathize with, though, is the fear of people he cares about rejecting him for who he is. And Cas tries to hold on to that thought and memory of that fear, to keep reminding himself what Dean is going through and why he may be acting the way he is.
And then there’s still the fact that not everyone is as openly sexual as Cas. Dean might not know how to deal with that besides his huge sexuality crisis.
“As you wish,” he tells Dean, speaking to him as if wanting to calm a wild animal.
And the wild animal at stake seems to deflate all at once, his shoulders relaxing when he breathes out, as if he’s been holding it in for minutes.
“Hang with me?” Cas asks instead before Dean has enough time to think of an excuse to get away from him.
“I don’t know…” Dean says, scratching the back of his neck, “I feel like I interrupted something when I barged in here, don’t think that joint is having the best time in your drawer…”
Cas chuckles, honestly surprised at Dean’s humor right now, and he surges forward, wrapping both arms around Dean and pulling him against his chest so he can heave his six-foot ass onto his bed. Dean lets out a surprised laugh, and oh, Cas totally forgot he was ticklish for a second. But instead of going for it, he throws himself on his bed as well and lies down on his back, staring at Dean.
“Come here,” Cas rasps, pulling his flustered roommate on top of him so they don’t have to squash their limbs on his twin bed. Dean sits on his pelvis, not quite on his stomach yet but a safe distance away from his crotch, his thighs bracketing Cas’ sides, both hands flat on his bare stomach to balance himself. And Cas enjoys having his weight crush down on him. It’s a good feeling and he smiles.
”What are we doing here?” Dean asks after a while, his back straight and eyes searching Cas’. His face is a little flushed and sure, this is not your typical platonic-friends-hanging-out-together position but as long as Cas doesn’t try to kiss him, Dean should be fine. After all, physical touch does not seem to be a problem for Dean.
“Hanging,” Cas answers simply, shrugging his shoulders as much as possible in his lying position. Dean just rolls his eyes, and Cas can see he’s preparing to move to climb off of him again, so he grabs both his wrists and pins him there. He’s not letting him go this easily. “Come on, you’ve been avoiding me long enough. Talk.”
“I don’t wanna.”
Cas sighs, letting go of Dean’s wrists. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that, Winchester?”
Dean snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “You’re one to talk.”
Smiling, Cas counters, “Oh, so I’m the one barging in here, stuffing my back and announcing that I’ll spend a few weeks at some chick’s place for no fucking reason?”
Dean deflates a little at that before arguing, “I said I needed space and time to think! And she’s not just some chick, we’re friends…”
“With benefits,” Cas quips, wagging his eyebrows teasingly.
“You’d like to know, huh?” Dean asks playfully, raising his brows at Cas before saying more seriously, “I just need some time to think about me and figure out what I want.”
“Or who you want…” He adds, his words barely above a whisper and it feels off to say it but Cas swallows it down and looks up at him. Dean looks a bit contrite while simultaneously pleading for understanding with his eyes.
There are no words shared between them while they stare at each other intensely as they do so often, and Cas’ thoughts run wild while he tries to enjoy this entirely platonic staring contest with his roommate. He has to admit that he kind of starts these most of the time by just ogling Dean until he notices, but Dean always stares right back, as if daring him. And while they do that, Cas can feel their connection, he can feel the sparks and electricity between them and no one can convince him that’s just pent-up sexual tension. Because he knows how that feels and this is nothing he’s ever experienced before meeting Dean.
He doesn’t want to just rip Dean’s clothes off with his teeth and torture him with his tongue until he’s open and begging for more. The thought is awesome, and he definitely wants that with Dean, obviously, but that’s only secondary. When they stare at each other like that, all Cas can think about is how much he wants to lean in and take Dean's face in his hands and kiss him. A real kiss. One that’s merely for the sake of kissing and leading nowhere. He wants to be close to him, like girls are allowed to.
Rather than trying to understand this new feeling, Cas breaks the silence by asking, “Am I confusing you?” Because Dean sure as hell is confusing him now and he needs to know if he’s the only one whose world just got turned upside down.
Adjusting on top of him, Dean flicks his gaze down to stare at his hands on Cas’ stomach before letting out a suffering and very exaggerated sigh and rolling his eyes at Cas. “You’re annoying me,” he quips. There’s a pause, and then, “But yes. And I can’t figure this whole thing out with you in the way all the time, pretending like there’s no such thing as privacy or personal space.”
“Okay,” Cas agrees, nodding, as he watches Dean adjust his ass yet again. Dean’s asscheeks are dangerously close to his crotch now and Cas can’t help but think about the fact that merely one layer of jersey is between him and Dean. “But you do realize you’re the one wiggling around in my lap, don’t you?”
With wide eyes, Dean slides further up to his stomach immediately, as if burned, and his face turns crimson. Cas merely lifts his brows in a judgy but amused way, smirking. There’s just something so innocent about Dean in his lap like this that makes it really hard for Cas to breathe.
He thinks about how no man has probably ever had Dean’s weight on top of him, how Dean has never had a dick skin on skin, sized it up and took in its feel with his ass, testing if he likes the girth or length of it, if he thinks it would feel good… There are a lot of things he’s probably never done before and even more that he’s definitely never done with Cas, and it makes him feel excited and tingly and he really has to stop thinking about it before his erection will be unavoidable.
They are breathing in sync, the silence of the room surrounding them no distraction from Cas’ suffocating and vivid imagination, so after a while, he reaches his left hand out to the nightstand at his side and opens the drawer, grabbing his joint from earlier and a lighter.
He feels Dean’s gaze on him like a flame, his hands warm as he packs the joint way slower than he needs to. Honestly, Cas just loves the attention and when he peaks up at Dean, he truly catches him staring at his hands. With a smirk, Cas sticks the end of the joint between his lips and lights it, discarding the lighter before meeting Dean’s curious eyes and taking a long-needed drag while relaxing back into the mattress.
For once, Dean is uncharacteristically quiet while he watches Cas, still sitting straight in his lap, and he can’t help but grin. “You ever smoke?” Dean shakes his head, meeting his eyes, and really, what did he think? The answer is so obvious, Cas can’t help but chuckle. Sweet Dean has probably never even had an edible.
Leaning up on his elbow, Cas holds out his other hand and offers Dean the joint. “You wanna try?” He watches Dean eye the smoke forming from it warily as if he isn’t quite sure if he wants it or not and Cas smiles softly, encouraging him to try. “Take a careful drag,” he says roughly, watching intensely as Dean takes the joint between his fingers and brings it to his plump lips. The visuals make Cas hungry and he licks his own bottom lip, eyes never wavering from Dean.
When he takes a drag, it’s not as careful as Cas told him to and judging by the way Dean looks, also not as careful as he himself thought it would be. He ends up in a coughing fit, not having the experience it apparently takes to get just enough to not inhale it all. Cas should’ve thought about that, but he started smoking such a long time ago, he totally forgot how much it hurts if you don’t get it right. Good thing he decided to go with the standard tonight. Joints aren’t packing as much of a serious punch as blunts do.
Still, Cas sits up as best as he can, his hands on Dean, who’s recovering from the coughing, his eyes filled with tears from the exhaustion to his lungs. “Fuck,” he coughs, looking at Cas, “That shit is awful. Why would you do that voluntarily?”
Cas chuckles, wiping a tear away from Dean’s cheek with his thumb. “It relaxes me.”
“Almost dying is your definition of relaxing? Fucking weird, man,” Dean mumbles, giving the joint back to Cas.
“I should have warned you about that, but once you get the drill of it, it’s actually great,” Cas insists, taking a long drag, “Better than the priciest booze out there.” And Cas knows.
Dean looks skeptical, his brows drawn up on his forehead, and Cas loves a challenge. “Let me show you,” he suggests instead of asking, searching Dean’s green eyes.
“How?”
Smiling just the slightest bit, Cas takes another hit and leans the last few inches into Dean’s personal space, and Cas’ body tingles with excitement again, feeling the electricity between them as Dean’s eyes are focused entirely on him, his pupils dilating. Keeping Dean’s request and rule in the back of his mind, Cas covers Dean’s mouth with his own, hearing his breath hitch almost inaudibly.
Dean leans the tiniest bit away from him and Cas stares up at Dean’s eyes through his lashes, trying to signal that he isn’t going to plunge his tongue into his mouth. He keeps their gazes locked as he leans in again, his heart pounding in his chest as he moves his lips slightly against Dean’s and exhales the smoke directly into his warm mouth. Cas relishes the soft feel of Dean’s bottom lip grazing his own just slightly. And when Dean inhales this time, he doesn’t start coughing, just moves his lips the slightest bit as if wanting to kiss Cas properly but restraining himself. Instead, he slowly exhales the smoke, directly against Cas’ chin, his breath hot and moist.
It makes Cas grin internally, a warm sensation spreading through his body, but he slowly pulls away, reminding himself that Dean initially came here to pack his stuff and get some distance between them. And he’d be lying if he said this reminder didn’t hurt for a moment, but he swallows his feelings and takes another hit just for himself.
“What does this do for you,” Dean asks curiously, his voice soft, “Besides relaxing you.” And it takes Cas a few seconds to realize what is meant by that question.
“It makes me contend most of the time.”
Nodding, Dean lets his eyes slip to where Cas is holding the joint and repeats, “Most of the time…?”
“Sometimes it makes me sleepy, which is also okay, ‘cause falling asleep doesn’t come very easy to me,” Cas explains, smiling softly when Dean looks at him. “Do you already feel something?”
“I feel normal,” Dean shrugs.
Grinning, Cas straightens up a bit and muses, “Well, then you need some more,” and takes a long drag. Before he leans in, he searches Dean’s eyes to see if this is okay, only to find them dark and curious. So he presses his lips against Dean’s to breathe out the smoke again while goosebumps form all over his skin at the intensity between them.
This time, Dean keeps the smoke inside longer, and Cas leans back with a smirk as he watches him exhale it very slowly. That’s his boy. He could do this all night long, breathing into Dean’s mouth to give him secondary smoke; smoke that has been inside him…
“Do you do this with everyone?”
The question catches him off guard and he meets Dean’s eyes with a questioning look. There’s something in the way he stares down at him, so openly curious but wary, while sitting with his back straight and his warm hands still on Cas’ stomach, unmoving. It causes heat to run through Cas’ entire body.
“What? Shotgunning?…” Cas asks, his voice rough. He can already feel the weed affecting his body in the best way and stares at Dean intensely for a while before finally answering, “I don’t do it with anyone.” And it’s the truth. Not that he’d ever lie to Dean, but it feels good knowing he has nothing to be sorry for.
All Dean does is nod once, his brows furrowing adorably as he thinks about Cas’ answer. “Why me then?”
Chuckling, Cas reaches out to Dean’s knee, tapping it playfully and quipping, “You seem to ask that question a lot…” And when he notices just how weirdly possessive his hand is gripping Dean’s thigh right above the knee without him having realized it, he clears his throat and slides his hand off of Dean’s knee, making sure it lays on the mattress this time, as he says, ”I’ve just never wanted to share this level of intimacy with anyone before.”
Raising a brow, Dean asks, “So having sex with someone isn’t as intimate to you as sharing smoke?” He doesn’t sound accusatory or generally negative, just surprised and it calms Cas. It’s weird, he’s never cared about his lifestyle before. And it’s not like Dean doesn’t already know about it or that he seeks Dean’s approval… But he doesn’t think he could live with Dean being repulsed by his sex life.
Cas stands to what he does and enjoys his life the way it is. So his answer is just as forward. “Exactly.”
Dean looks genuinely curious as if hearing another interesting perspective of something, and it fills Cas with want. “Explain it to me.”
Swallowing down his bubbling desire for the man currently on top of him, Cas simply explains, “It’s just the way I am. There’s nothing really intimate about how I fuck people, it’s just to seek pleasure, or an outlet… or even just out of boredom.”
There’s an impassive nod from Dean before he asks, “So it never means anything to you?” And fuck, that is probably going to be the point Dean will judge him for.
“Not never,” he starts and sees the way Dean’s trying to understand his words. “The people just don’t mean anything to me, so the sex doesn’t, you know?”
“Sure…” Dean says slowly, and Cas’ pulse speeds up, his throat feeling like it’s clogging. Why, though? He’s had dicks down his throat from people whose names Cas didn’t even know and felt glorious about it but somehow wanting Dean to not be appalled by it is important right now.
After a pause that seems like minutes of torture to Cas, Dean finally rasps, “I’ve had one-night-stands before but there at least must be some passion between me and her for it to work… Feeling absolutely nothing for someone is kind of a downer…” Cas doesn’t miss Dean’s choice of words to clarify the gender of his sexual partners but even though, all anxiety of Dean disapproving of Cas’ sexual behavior flood out the window as fast as they came.
He grins slightly and rasps, “I like the idea of feeling that spark— passion with someone.”
“Why just the idea?”
Chuckling roughly, Cas answers, “Because I’m hedonistic and I kinda just fuck whoever turns me on.” Very different from being addicted to sex, though… He observes Dean’s curious expression as he stares down at him intently and quickly adds, “It’s gotta be guys though, ‘cause I’m not into women however much I appreciate their looks. And I have actually been in a monogamous relationship before and could even imagine being in one again. With lots and lots of fucking my partner, that is.”
Even in the dimmed light of the room, with the moonlight adding to it from outside shining through the window and giving the warm yellow a colder touch, Cas can see all the other questions Dean has in his beautiful eyes. He’s holding himself back from asking them. Cas puts the joint to his mouth and takes a hit, smiling while blowing out a cloud of smoke before encouraging Dean to ask whatever he wants to know. “It’s okay if you have questions. I’ll even try and answer them for you.”
The little shy smile Dean gives him upon realizing Cas read him like a book is more intriguing than most things in the world and he can’t wait to hear what else Dean wants to know. By now, Cas would just do about everything to make Dean look at him like that.
“Okay,” Dean starts, surprising Cas by reaching out and taking the joint from him. Without thinking long about it, Dean takes a hit as well and handles it perfectly fine on his own – not that it makes Cas a little sad or anything because he would’ve gladly continued to shotgun with him… “If we’re talking sex, how may times a week do you need it to feel good.”
And wow, that question almost surprised him more than Dean smoking pot. “Depends on how my days are going and also how much I smoke…”
“Humor me.”
“You really wanna know?” Cas asks with a grin, surprised Dean is getting more and more forward tonight. Maybe it’s the weed affecting him. He has to think about it for a moment, replaying the past few weeks in his mind. “Uh… I don’t keep count of it… last week was kinda slow, but I guess about 9 times give or take.”
Huffing in amusement, Dean quips, “That’s what you call slow?” his hands sliding just the tiniest bit up his stomach. They’re even warmer now.
Cas shrugs, “I don’t really have anything else going on between classes. So unlike me, you actually have a life. You study for classes, go out with friends and stuff. That’s admirable.” His hand has somehow wandered from the mattress to Dean’s thigh again but this time, he decides to keep it there until Dean tells him not to.
Grinning, Dean sits up even straighter and quips, “You think I’m admirable?”
“I said your social life is admirable…” Cas corrects with a fat smile, squeezing his thigh, “But you are, too. It’s undeniable. Except for the sexuality crisis, of course.” Next thing he knows Cas is hit with the flat of Dean’s hand to his side and he looks at him with surprise, finding humor in Dean’s smile as he rolls his eyes at him. “You brat,” Cas quips, grabbing Dean’s hand and pinning it to the mattress.
There’s a long pause between them where they once again merely stare at each other with this incomprehensible intensity between them until Cas clears his throat and asks, “Any more questions?”
“Yeah,” Dean answers immediately. “This tattoo right here,” Cas looks down to see Dean circle one half of a tattoo on his lower stomach with his free hand, the rest of it disappearing in his briefs, “What is it? I’ve been trying to figure it out the whole time.”
To be honest, Dean’s touch is very distracting, his slap, however playful, still stings wonderfully on his skin and the weed already makes it hard to think clearly. Especially when Dean traces the tat and his finger glides along the edge of his briefs, circling back up to the beginning. His eyelashes are long when he stares down like this, and he’s so goddamn stunning that Cas has to catch his breath before answering. “That’s because most of it is under my pants,” he rasps, his voice deep and his mouth dry. “But it’s just a freehand smoke tattoo of one of my favorite artists. You wanna see the whole thing?”
Dean nods a few times and Cas grins, pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants almost to the root of his dick because that’s where the tattoo ends. Since there’s hair growing around his genitals, a bit of the tat is hidden behind it, but it’s still visible through it.
When he looks up to see Dean’s reaction, he’s still openly ogling the tattoo, his eyes tracing it down to his crotch, and his mouth is opened slightly. And yeah, Cas really hopes all his attention is focused on the ink on his skin now because his dick might’ve just twitched a little bit at the intensity of Dean’s stare. Because, shit, Dean really has no idea how hot he is right now; just existing on top of Cas. He can’t fucking wait to show Dean all of his tattoos, even the very intimate ones.
“I have more of these everywhere ‘cause I like the look of them,” Cas says, breaking the intense silence, “On my legs, running down my calf. And on my back, almost the entire length of my spine.”
Dean nods distractedly, tearing his eyes away from Cas’ groin to meet his gaze. “Yeah… I know. They’re not especially subtle.”
Grinning, Cas lets go of his briefs, feeling them snap back up and cover his crotch. “Dean Winchester… have you been checking me out?”
“No, but you don’t have a problem with modesty and run around almost naked all the time. How am I not supposed to see your tattoos?”
Still, with his amused grin on his lips, Cas raises his eyebrows suggestively and makes a tsking noise. Then his gaze drops to where Dean’s legs are slightly bent, staring at the denim and thinking about how they’re probably cutting Dean’s blood flow. “Speaking of modesty,” Cas starts, tapping Dean’s thigh with his hand before looking up at him again, “Why don’t you take off those pants?”
Rolling his eyes obnoxiously, Dean straightens his back and jokes, “Haha.” And Cas would’ve typically pointed out what a brat Dean is, but right now he’s seriously worried about Dean’s legs which is kind of weird. Seems like pot makes him more mindful than he’d ever be sober.
“No, really,” he says, trying to sound serious for a moment. “You’ve been sitting in that position for like half an hour now in those jeans… Your legs would probably be very thankful for normal blood circulation again.”
“I’m fine.”
Infuriating. Nonetheless, Cas is nothing but insistent when it comes to what he wants and he can be very persuasive if his requests aren’t followed. “Come on,” he urges with a smile, trying to convince Dean, “Why are you holding back? Are you hiding a tattoo underneath that you don’t want me to see? What is it? Your ex-girlfriend’s name? Besides, it’s not like I’ve never seen you half-naked before…” Cas waggles his eyebrows and he didn’t think it was possible for Dean’s eyes to roll even deeper into his skull. On the plus side, there’s a very deep red blush spreading across Dean’s cheeks now and he has to admit it’s the most alluring thing ever.
“There’s no tattoo, you dumbass!” Dean complains, slapping Cas’ side again with his free hand, before his gaze shifts anywhere else except for Cas’ eyes, who considers pinning down the other hand as well… “I’d like to keep some layers between us…”
Oh, right. How could Cas forget why they’re even here in the first place? “Uh-huh…” he’s still a little skeptical, but can no longer tease Dean about it. So he goes with the only thing he thinks will work, and says “I promise I’ll control myself.”
And Dean, thank fuck, smiles a shy but also wicked little half grin and rasps, “You’re annoying.”
“No, I’m persistent,” Cas corrects, tapping Dean’s leg and reminding him of his jeans. “Now take those pants off, Winchester.”
And just like a petulant little child, Dean huffs out an annoyed “Fine! But you gotta let go of me,” and stares pointedly at where Cas is still pinning his hand down. Cas lets go of it and watches Dean get off the bed just long enough to pull off his pants. He throws them away, the heavy material of them making a dull noise as they land on the floor, and then climbs back into Cas’ bed, now in only his boxer shorts and shirt. Once Dean’s kneeling over him again, he plops back down on his stomach without any worry of crushing him, making Cas groan even as he smirks. “You happy now?”
The audacity… “Would be even happier if you weren’t such a brat,” Cas quips, slapping Dean’s bare thigh playfully and totally underestimating his own force behind it. His hand stings immediately and when he looks at Dean’s thigh, there’s a red but slowly fading handprint on his skin and Cas looks up to see Dean bite his lip with what can only be described as stunned — maybe even aroused — curiosity.
But to play it off, Dean laughs, loud and thundering, penetrating the jarring silence that has been there a second ago. Dean’s green eyes shine with mirth as he reaches his hand out to slap Cas right back. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“What, you thought I gave that slap my all? You haven’t even felt half of my wrath, Winchester,” he chuckles darkly.
“Oh, yeah?” Dean asks teasingly, bending his body above him so his face is closer to Cas’, and inspects his face with mock skepticism. “I don’t believe you.”
This close, Cas can see that Dean’s eyes are red from the pot, and it’s not really a surprise that he’s high, considering he’s tried it for the first time. And it’s not like Dean’s a lightweight, but with his physique, weed hits way faster than people expect.
Once he realizes he’s been staring too long without saying anything, Cas cocks an eyebrow at Dean and muses, “You wanna try me?”
“Oh, I could easily take you!” And it’s that moment Cas is fully aware of their position right now. Yes, Dean’s bent over him, but he’s also holding Cas down while sitting on his lower stomach, thighs pressing against Cas’ sides as if to cage him in, and he feels Dean’s heat all around him. God, Cas doesn’t even question his statement because he fully believes that Dean can take him, and his mind is very busy supplying him with a lot of scenarios of that.
Dean’s face is also only mere inches away from his, his breath hot on Cas’ lips, and they are once again staring at each other with this hot tension between them that could burn this whole dorm down if someone was about to light a cigarette here…
Usually, with any other person, Cas would be way beyond kissing them. They’d be fucking like their lives depended on it until day broke. But with Dean… he feels as if one more second longer of just staring into his eyes, his body would shake so hard with anticipation and desire, that he’d break his bed. Desire to slide his hands into Dean’s hair, pull him close and kiss him slowly like they did in the library…
And then, just as memories of their library kiss flash before Cas’ eyes, Dean’s pulling as far away as possible from his face, moving so fast Cas thinks he got burned. He feels him lean his back against his propped-up legs and is happy that he’s at least not running away from him again.
Distance. He’s just putting distance between them.
He feels as if he’s on a roller coaster. His feelings are all over the place and every time he thinks he can catch his breath, there’s Dean surprising him with something again. And it’s not the effects of the weed, that’s for sure.
Which is a great reminder actually. With a quiet sigh, Cas reaches out to his nightstand and pulls out the bag with his supplies again. Seems like one joint wasn’t enough for tonight, so he’ll just roll another one.
Dean’s eyes are tracking his hands the entire time just like before, and when Cas holds it up to seal it, he stares directly into his eyes. As his tongue swipes across the paper, Cas sees the way Dean gulps and it makes him feel so smug that he grins when he lights it and takes a hit before passing it to Dean, who — to his surprise — takes it immediately.
The second joint is exactly what they need and Cas already feels Dean relax on top of him after he’s taken about five hits. And once they’re done with it, Cas feels as relaxed as ever and Dean doesn’t seem so restrained anymore. Which is absolutely amusing, because Cas thought he’s the handsy one when stoned, but Dean… It’s like some hidden part of him just got unleashed.
His legs are no longer bent but stretched out next to Cas’ body, taking up all the space left in bed, while he’s still very comfortably sitting in Cas’ crotch with his back leaned against his propped legs. And while that on itself is already a rarely seen thing around him, his body language is not the only thing revealing. Because his hands are fucking mapping Cas’ stomach and sides.
Tracing the tattoos led to him sliding his wonderful and warm fingers up Cas’ sides until he probably got bored and started to just mindlessly caress them over his skin, which has his hair standing on end ever since Dean began with this. Every touch of him leaves behind a tingling trail on Cas’ skin and he could fall asleep like that.
Dean looks ready to call it a night, too, but he’s still watching Cas with this soft but observing expression and he doesn’t know what to do with it. So he just lets him. It’s only fair, after all the staring on Cas’ part… He merely watches Dean watch him until Dean’s eyes sweep to his thighs and stay glued there. Cas follows his gaze and finds both of his hands have landed there again without him realizing. But instead of rejecting his touch, Dean surprisingly even starts to spread his legs some more, his lips slightly parting as he breathes calmly. And that’s just the invitation Cas needed to let go of the last bits of concern that Dean will freak out and leave again.
When his fingers start to knead the soft skin of Dean’s thighs, Cas takes one look at his face and knows they’re fine. His eyes are hooded and his mouth relaxed, his head tilted just the slightest bit back in his neck. Cas begins slow and only on top of his thighs until Dean starts to make these soft affirming noises in the back of his throat that make Cas’ limbs all gooey. When his fingers press into and slide across the skin of Dean’s sensitive inner thighs, Dean gets even heavier on top of him as he relaxes all the way and Cas can’t believe he gets to be part of this moment.
This is divine.
It’s not a surprise that it doesn’t take long for Dean to nod off on top of him after that and Cas makes sure that he’s comfortable laying on top of him before he allows himself to close his eyes as well, ignoring his erection entirely.