The Laundromat smelled like detergent and burnt socks. The flow of air made the little hairs stand up on the back of Castiel's neck, and as he reached up to rub it he couldn't help but notice the lack of people in the vicinity. He was dressed in shorts and an old T-shirt, his brown hair ruffled and stubble lining his jaw. It was the end of his first week in college, and he had been putting off doing any laundry out of apprehension. By doing so, it had caused a buildup of clothes in his hamper, from both orientation week and school. It had been much hotter there than he had been made to expect, and he made a mental note to go pick up some shorts and tank tops from target. He had brought his homework along with him; he had to do yet another introduction paper, this one for his sociology class. He had always found the human race to be extremely fascinating, their struggles and accomplishments, and he was interested in finding out how their minds ticked as a whole.
It was at the beginning of his second paragraph that the lights shut off, leaving him in the darkness, the glow of his computer lighting up his face but nothing else. He huffed in annoyance, and got up to turn on the light switch, placing his computer on the bench behind him. He walked up to the door, but then the lights switched on again, the cheap bulbs blinding him for a second. His eyes adjusted, and in the frame of the doorway stood another student, a sophomore no doubt, wearing nothing but a tank top, a pair of red boxers, and a smirk.
" They're motion activated, you know." Said the boy. " Why are you just sitting in here? There's a TV in the lobby just down the hall…"
" I-I signed up for a class late and now I have more homework to do… so I'm doing it in here." Explained Castiel.
The boy raised a brow, but his face soon softened into a smile. "Mind if I sit with you? I don't have anything else to do. Maybe I could proof read your paper for you?"
" Sure, I wouldn't mind the company." Castiel agreed.
Castiel watched as the boy loaded a machine, and gave him a slow once-over. His light brown hair sat up like it had gel in it, but it looked quite soft. His back looked strong and sturdy, but without much distinct muscle shape. The boxers rode up his things as he bent over, bringing a heat to Castiel's cheeks. He had on a pair of flip flops that looked extremely worn out, the plastic holding on just barely, and only traces of the original coloring remaining. He quickly shifted his eyes back to his computer as the boy rose again, put in detergent and quarters, and started the whir of the machine.
" Alright, now give me a look at your paper." The boy stated.
Castiel reluctantly handed over his computer to him, and watched nervously as his attentively scanned it line by line. Dean looked up at him, and Castiel saw his mouth move, his eyebrows high on his face, giving his forehead lines.
"Hello?" the boy asked, " did you hear what I just said? Can I just go ahead and correct the little mistakes?"
"What? Oh, sure! Of course, thanks!" Castiel babbled.
After about ten more minutes, the boy handed the laptop back over.
" I'll finish reading over it when you're done writing. There were a couple grammatical errors, but nothing serious. You're a good writer!" the boy remarked.
Castiel blushed. " Thanks, I mean for looking at it. And for… just… t-thanks!" Castiel stuttered.
A loud beep filled the room, and Castiel rose to empty out the dyer. He cleaned out the lint tray, and emptied the warm clothes into his bin. As he packed up his stuff, the boy stood, hand outstretched at Castiel.
" Nice to meet you. I'm Dean by the way. What's your name?" said Dean.
" Castiel! I'll see you around, Dean!" replied Castiel.
" See ya, Cas!" Dean called after Castiel, who bustled out of the building, face red, and palms sweaty.