AN: title credit goes to M83 song
The length of Dean's Monday morning felt longer than the entirety of meager weekend. He had a slightly sore throat, and the burning hot coffee sliding he was throwing back wasn't helping. Up at five and out of the apartment he shared with his little brother to arrive at the small coffee shop that seemed to attract many early risers, and then at eight thirty on his way over to his nine o'clock class at his university. The morning fog had cleared at this point, and Dean had to squint at the street ahead of him. It was panning out to be a hot day, once again. In the mornings he didn't drive his Baby, his black '67 Chevy Impala. The café he worked was an exact medium between his apartment and the university. There was no point wasting money on gas, and the risk of getting his bike stolen was too high, so walking would suit him just fine.
He had snacked on a banana and Frappuccino earlier this morning, so the coffee was a little unnecessary, if not just something to make Dean feel better.
Normally his first period class was physiology, which was pretty much a self-taught class where the students would work on labs or dissections for one hour two times a week, but he switched out at the end of the semester. Now, he had journalism. It wasn't what he was majoring in, but he did enjoy writing and his little brother Sammy thought it would be good for Dean to publish some things before he got out of college.
He entered the classroom, and it was by no means a small room. It was a complete computer lab, although most students preferred to write their pieces on their own laptops. It was a class that was predominantly girls, but there were boys in between every two girls it seemed like, loving the attention.
Dean shifted the weight of his black Northface backpack on his shoulder, feeling comfy in his charcoal graphic tee and dark washed jeans and took a seat in the back, slamming his bag onto the tabletop. It shook the whole table, and the boy next to him looked up, scowling.
Not missing a beat, Dean proceeded to pull out his silver laptop from the bag and then the white charger following quickly after. He plopped down; rubbing his face with both hands and then blinked exaggeratedly after. There was nothing actually due so he didn't plan on actually doing anything this period.
"Excuse me," came a curt voice beside him. And then it occurred to Dean there were other people in this world.
"What—oh, sorry man," Dean said courteously, grabbing the handle of his backpack and sliding it down the table so that it landed not so nicely on the floor.
Then, both boys watched in slow motion as Dean's coffee cup toppled from side to side before it leaned too far towards his seatmate, and it was tipping over, the hot liquid contents spilling out…
… right onto the dark haired boy's computer.
He gasped, getting a hand on either side of the laptop, lifting it up, but it was too late. The coffee had gotten past the keys and the screen was now blinking, steam beginning to rise from the keyboard.
"Are you fucking kidding me—!?" he screeched.
Dean felt as if he was watching a horror movie. But no, this was his life.
"Jesus fuck, Dean!" the older boy continued to scream. He had now gotten the attention of the entire class and the teacher, who had raised her head and had gotten out of her seat to approach both boys.
"I am so sorry," Dean said, out of his seat now and looking at the boy with apologetic eyes and truly distressed expression.
"Dean!" he cried once more, and then it finally hit Dean. He knew this boy… Maybe it wasn't the appropriate time for such heavy recognition.
It was Castiel Novak. The reason Dean must not have noticed who he was earlier was probably because of the thick-framed glasses that he was wearing and his black hair curly and in disarray. He was wearing a gray hoodie that seemed to cling to his upper body, and a pair of worn washed jeans accompanied by a pair of classic vanilla Vans.
Castiel was his neighbor; their apartment rooms were right next to each other. He was a junior whereas Dean was a sophomore. Dean hadn't even noticed Castiel was in the same class that he had just transferred into a little over a week and a half ago.
"Cas," Dean breathed, a blush forming over his cheeks and his ears beginning to burn with embarrassment at how he had just moaned the boy's name.
There was no mistaking it—Castiel was pissed, and he had definitely caught that moan. And the weight of it all hit the younger boy, the fact that this was Dean's fault, he had just completely ruined Castiel's expensive computer after all.
"Dean, I would like to have a word with you." That was Castiel. Polite and well kempt at all times. There was never a time where Dean had seen him loose as much control as he just had over two minutes ago. "Outside."
With a worried expression, Dean followed a fuming Cas outside where the prying ears of the journalism students couldn't listen in and even possibly make a story out of this fiasco.
The door closed behind Dean and Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Goddamn it, Dean."
"Castiel, I'm really sorry. I'm so, so sorry. If there is anything I can do—"
"Pay me upfront one thousand eight hundred dollars, maybe?" Castiel asked brashly, cocking his head to the side in a way that caught Dean off guard.
Dean was silent. "Dude, Cas, I don't have the money. My little brother got into Stanford for next year; all my money is going towards his education." Castiel had a compassionate look on his face for a moment before he dropped it and was cold once again.
"You're missing the point, you just—"
"Nope, Cas, I see the point clearly," Dean cut him off, holding up his hands. "I fucked up, and I know it, and I don't have the money right now, but if I could just pay you installments or…?"
Castiel perked up at this, looking confused, although interested in some aspects. "Installments?" he questioned and Dean blushed. The expressions that Castiel, and only Castiel, created were priceless. Absolutely striking.
To be honest, Dean had a crush on him.
Or so he thought. He hoped and was internally praying—something he usually would avoid at all costs—that this wouldn't ruin their friendship. Dean had casually suggested for the two of them to maybe walk together to classes (before they were both in journalism) but then Dean changed his work hours because he knew he would have to put in more effort towards Sammy's Stanford funding.
The whole crush thing was a little hazy, but nevertheless there. Dean was interested. Hell, Castiel was a full package—tall, good-looking, bright future, older. It was custom to Dean to like girls (generally) and occasionally boys that were younger than him, but what he really craved was for someone to be older and stronger than him, someone to take care of him. It was weird, and he knew it, but that didn't stop him.
Dean nodded. "You know, pay over time…?"
Castiel scrunched his face up, hiding all traces of emotion. He seemed to be mulling something over in his head, but not completely able to make up his mind. "We could do that."
Dean almost felt the urge to blush. The way Castiel spoke slowly with care and consideration made Dean have to bit his lower lip, to not say something stupid. And his choice of words made Dean's mind wander. We could do that. We could do lots of things, he thought internally.
The bell rang and the class dismissed itself, the students rushing out.
Castiel stared at Dean a while longer before he purposefully brushed up against Dean as he slinked past, "Later, Dean."
His cock gave the shortest of twitches and he gulped.
"Please," Dean pleaded, tumbling out of bed and towards the stranger who was banging on his door. The sleepy man didn't seem to care to look in a mirror or even check the peephole before he pulled the door open.
"Are you fucking serious?" he asked in an annoyed voice before he could even get a good look at the character. His eyes opened and expanded rapidly. "Wait…" Dean furrowed his brows. It was… Castiel?
The dark haired boy raised a hand. "Hi Dean. Sorry to bother. But I was wondering when we could start those installments?"
Dean's jaw dropped. Here his gorgeous neighbor stood right at his doorstep, wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a white tee looking out of breath. "Cas, it's only been one day…"
Castiel smiled then, and it almost took Dean's breath away. It was only yesterday morning that Dean had spilled the coffee all over Cas' expensive laptop.
"I thought you said installments were a way to pay others back over time," he said, cocking his head to the side, as if confused.
"Yeah, but there's no need to—"
Dean found himself stuck. He couldn't exactly form any noises from his lips when he met his eyes with Castiel's cerulean blue ones. His cheeks were red, but not from any of the stupid and girly emotions that Dean was feelings. It seemed more like he had just gotten back from a work out. Why he was working out on a Tuesday at nine at night, Dean would never know.
"And," Dean started, breaking the contact and looking at Castiel's Nike running shoes, "when we agreed I would pay you back, I meant like—"
"Dean," Castiel smiled as he spoke, his plump pink lips looking extremely kissable in that moment. "I don't need your money."
Furrowing his brows, Dean looked at Castiel like he had grown another head. "I… I—what? But you said you needed it?"
"I decided I would feel better if I were to teach you a lesson and you would, well, work for me. It occurred to me that I can afford another computer, although it will take about a month due to my working logistics," he said, still kind of half smiling at Dean.
Dean clenched the doorknob in his hand before letting go and running those fingers through his hair. "Teach me a lesson?"
"Yes, I have found that it actually works when you drill it into children's heads long enough, they finally understand what it was that they did wrong in the first place."
"Hang on, Cas, did you just call me a child?"
Completely disregarding Dean's question, he proceeded. "I have two younger siblings, Anna and Gabriel, as I think I may have told you about them before. Anna had this phase where she would pretend she didn't know who she was or where she was from and wouldn't eat anything other than leafs because she refused to acknowledge that she wasn't a rabbit."
Slowly, Dean cocked his head to the side.
"I don't really know why I told you that. But nevertheless, their habits subsided when met with punishment."
"Dude, you're saying my accidental spilling of coffee onto your computer which happened once, is a habit?" Dean asked, a little more than extra sass added to his question.
Castiel's lips twitched. "Dean, please. That is hardly a factor in this any longer."
"Cas, you're not giving me anything to work with here!" Dean was becoming hot with anger at being woken up when he had just seemed to drift off to sleep over a half hour ago. It wasn't like he was required to go to bed early, but he only had one morning class today and had worked the rest of the day at the coffee shop and his legs were sore from cramping under his weight all day.
"As I understand you know, the walls in our apartment complex are very, very thin," Castiel said, nodding at his door that was next to Dean and Sam's. Dean involuntarily gulped. "Friday night when I was on the phone, do you recall?" There was nothing seemingly wrong with this conversation they were having, but Dean's face flushed heavily. Oh shit, he realized what was about to come out. "I was speaking to my mother, when all of a sudden, I hear loud panting coming from the other side of the wall.
"You seemed to enjoy pleasuring yourself to the sound of my voice as I talked to my family."
Dean's face transformed to one of horror. He didn't know what to say, what would be the proper comeback to that. His brain couldn't process anything due to the fact that he was short-circuiting.
Castiel laughed now, completely unaffected. "And I know it wasn't the first time. But there is no need to be embarrassed. I won't tell anybody." He was smiling again, and Dean felt like his heart was going into over drive. He was surprised Castiel hadn't commented on the fact that his breathing had become erratic and messy.
"I can keep a secret if you can, Dean." A scarlet blush seemed to be tattooed onto Dean's face. He didn't think he would be able to speak in this other boys' presence again. "So come over why don't you? I have some things I need help with."
Dean glanced at the watch on his wrist that he refuses to take off when it's time for bed. It was nearing ten but he didn't have classes until after lunch tomorrow so he didn't really have that large of a reason to turn Castiel down. Besides, what's the worst that can happen when it involved a scantily clad Castiel?
Speaking of scanty, Dean was wearing little to nothing. Actually, he was clad in just a pair of jogging shorts. Just jogging shorts. He had taken a shower and pulled the article on, noticing that all his boxers and briefs were in the washing machine.
And the head of his twitching cock was becoming just the tiniest bit prominent.
Luckily, Dean looked over at the small living room space to the side of the front door and found a white tee that he had gotten a couple years ago from donating to a charity. Nervously, he glanced back into his house one last time, making sure he couldn't hear his little brother stirring before he closed the door behind him, barefoot.
He really shouldn't be worrying about his twelfth grade little brother when he was behind his gorgeous neighbor and about to enter his house.
Gulping like a fish out of air, Dean followed the dark haired boy into the apartment, almost completely identical to his, but seemed cleaner, more sophisticated what with the spotless white walls and unscratched hardwood floors.
Castiel led Dean into the living room that had the same layout as his own apartments, but the couch was black leather instead of Dean and Sam's brown fabric one. And there was a cute polka dot rug underneath a glass coffee table that Cas dropped his house keys onto.
Standing in front of the TV, Castiel crossed his arms. "I feel like an idiot, but I don't know how to hook up the TV to my DVD player, and I've been meaning to call someone to help, but I haven't gotten around to it." Castiel looked a little ashamed, a small cherry coloured blush spreading like wildfire over Cas' cheeks.
Dean sort of half smiled, trying to get the obnoxiously adorable embarrassed Castiel face out of his head so that his littler head wouldn't wake up… If you know what he means. "Psh, yeah, Cas. I can take care of this. Just, go get yourself some food and I'll be working on this."
Dean didn't think he had ever seen someone look so grateful. "Thank you, Dean," Cas said happily, suddenly stripping off his shirt right before his guest. "I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind."
"Dead kittens. Dead kittens. Dead kittens." Rather, stop trying to give me a boner, you ass!
Castiel's head perked up. "What's that?"
Shooting both his eyebrows up, Dean looked at Castiel in question. "What's that? What's what? Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." He smiled, as if it was really nothing, and then kneeled down before Castiel.
For a second, a flash of hunger and desire was visible in Castiel's azure blue eyes and Dean felt a shiver run down his spine. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, imagining that look in Castiel's eye over and over in his brain.
"I—I've got it from here," Dean said, facing the DVD player that sat atop a cardboard box with a pamphlet beside it. Castiel nodded once before turning around and heading down the hall towards the bathroom that was next to the master's bedroom.
Dean set to work reading the clear instructions and plugging the right coloured chords into the right inputs. It really didn't seem to be too demanding, and wondered momentarily why it had been so difficult for Castiel. He dropped the packet of paper on the floor next to him and took a deep breath, looking towards the bathroom. The water from the shower had stopped running and Dean pondered what Castiel was still doing in there.
And then, out of the blue, Castiel emerged from the bathroom, a heavy flush on his cheeks and his hair a big flop of black on his head, the entirety of his body completely and absolutely naked. His skin hue was creamy, and a little red from the heat of the shower, Dean judged from the amount of steam that escaped the room when Cas came out. Castiel didn't turn to the slack-jawed boy sitting on his calved before his TV as he headed towards his room, and Dean was sure not to miss the undeniably sexy way Castiel carried his self, his hips swaying back and forth almost femininely. And that ass, Dean thought, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the perfectly shaped contour of it. He was mesmerized, but all too quickly, Castiel was out of the hall and in his room.
And holy shit what was that fire that was burning from in between Dean's legs? He almost didn't want to look down.
Due to the thinness of his shorts, the head of Dean's cock was completely visible. He was painfully hard; his balls tight and shaft twitching. Brushing his hand over his tip, he moaned loudly and breathily, feeling the wetness seeping out of his slit.
"Shit," Dean whispered hoarsely. He was going to need to get rid of this before Castiel came back out. But, unfortunately, the dead kittens weren't working like earlier. He felt doomed, so he began to think about fat, hairy old pedophile men with thick protruding tongues and long, saggy arms and long, claw like fingernails—
"Dean, why are you making that face?"
Shaken out of his reverie, Dean nearly jumped at Castiel's spontaneous arrival. He dared a glance down and sighed in relieve when he saw that his dick had decided to slip back into it's slumber and Dean was out of trouble once again at the mercy of his cock. "I just, uh, had this weird, vivid day dream I guess."
Castiel pursed his lips and nodded at the electronic device. He dropped to his knees like Dean and observed how it was neatly plugged into his TV now. "You got it to work?"
"Yeah, I mean, it wasn't that hard, Cas," Dean said, not purposely trying to be rude.
Castiel laughed and leaned forward, across Dean's lap, to press a yellow button on the DVD player. Dean visibly tensed and Castiel seemed indifferent, but slowly, a smug smirk made it's way onto his face.
"Thanks a lot, Dean," Castiel said, another one of those gorgeous grateful smiles on his lips. He placed a hard, warm hand on Dean's barely clothed thigh—only noticing how high his shorts had rode up at that time. "I really appreciate your help. Hopefully you could help me out with something else again soon?"
Dean gulped, his throat tight and dry. "N—no problem, Cas."
idk whether to continue but if you like it let me know