Castiel opened the door to his apartment, hurriedly slinging his bag down onto the couch and throwing his keys on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the clock on the oven - it read 8:02 PM - he was late! He fumbled with the lock on the balcony door, shoving it open so hastily that it banged against the frame. Cas winced, but the stream of music from above did not falter. Sighing gently, he sank onto the chair and closed his eyes.
Cas listened to the notes trickle down and with each string that was plucked he felt the tension melt out of him. It was his post-work ritual - to sit on his balcony and let the heavenly voice of 12B lull him into a contented stupor. He gently tapped his fingers along to the rhythm, and from time to time hummed the tune if there was a song he recognised. He was careful not to make any noise above a whisper, however - just in case.
As usual, his neighbor worked through a couple of covers; Tom Petty, Bob Seger, Queen - the usual stuff. At around 8:30, once his vocal chords were sufficiently warmed, he started playing some original compositions. A soft ballad called 'Lazarus' was Cas' favourite at the moment, and 12B got to it at around 9. He beamed as he heard the first few notes.
The first verse played out and Cas mouthed the words to himself, still smiling softly. 12B launched into the chorus and played so passionately that Cas found he was singing along before he could stop himself. They sang a duet for a line or two before the guitar cut off with a sharp sound and a loud gasp as the other man realised what was happening. There was a long silence.
"Uh… Sorry," said Cas sheepishly into the night.
12B did not reply. There was another silence, then Cas heard a chair scraping back as he went inside, shutting the door behind him. Cas swore softly to himself, unable to believe that he had been so stupid. He waited for ten minutes, but his neighbor did not come back outside. Cas swore again and went inside to prepare his microwave lasagne for one.
The next night Cas was home earlier. He took out the sack lunch he hadn't had time to eat at work, poured himself a glass of wine, and settled himself on the balcony. The evening air was warm and syrupy and slow in the way that only late summer can be, and Cas languished in it as he ate.
8PM came and went and there was silence from 12B. Cas frowned. Should he go upstairs and check on the guy? He hadn't missed an 8PM practise in 6 months… Maybe he'd ruined things last night and he didn't want to play anymore. Cas' frown deepened and he sighed. He retrieved a stack of papers from his briefcase and began to grade them, watching as the sun lazily sank below the horizon.
10PM arrived and Cas had almost finished - he had come to the conclusion that this year's summer school kids were even dumber than last year's, but he wrote encouraging comments on them all the same. '50% is 100% better than last time, Billy! Keep trying!' he scrawled, and his pen skittered across the paper in surprise as a chord rang out into the night.
Castiel's shock quickly became delight as he recognised the dulcet tones of 12B's voice. He discarded the papers and listened happily, mouth firmly shut. As usual he was treated to some classics, and then his upstairs neighbor launched into his original material. An hour or so passed pleasantly, the moonlight turning everything to black and white, like an old movie. All too soon 12B was done, and Cas listened as he carried the blessed guitar back inside, shutting the door behind him. He hadn't played 'Lazarus' once.
The next night Cas got home at 7. He opened the balcony door to let some air into his stuffy apartment, and stood dumbfounded when he realised that his neighbor was already singing. A cover of 'Brown Eyed Girl' flowed down from above. Confused but pleased, Cas let the music fill the apartment as he put a leftover burrito from lunch into the microwave.
Cas ate on the balcony as 12B began singing his own stuff. He sipped the wine he'd opened yesterday, and by the time he recognised the opening notes of 'Lazarus' he'd finished the bottle, minus yesterday's glass. He kept quiet for the first verse, hummed along (quietly) with the chorus, hummed along (a little louder) with the second verse, but when the chorus came back in he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
The lyrics left his lips and blended with 12B's, so softly that at first Cas was sure he wasn't being heard. Then the third verse came in and Cas realised that the other man had stopped - the guitar still gently thrummed the tune but the only voice was his own. He faltered for a moment but managed to finish the verse (if slightly off-key).
When the chorus came back for the final time his neighbor's voice re-joined the song, softly and effortlessly harmonizing with Cas'. They sang together until the last note rang out into the night, then both fell silent.
Cas was sure he should say something but his mouth had gone suddenly very dry and he wasn't sure he would be able to, even if he could find the words. What exactly do you say to your upstairs neighbor whom you've been secretly listening to since you moved in and whom you've just sung an impromptu duet of their original work with? Was there anything he could say? What if he offended him? The whole situation was ridiculous! His heart pounded.
"So… tomorrow?" asked 12B. Cas had never really heard his speaking voice before. It was deep, and gruff, and hesitant, but there was a smile in it. He grinned.
"Of course," replied Cas.
The next night Cas was on his balcony at 7:30 sharp. He tried to read a book but his stomach was knotted with nerves. Instead he listened intently to the sounds of the night, trying to filter out the distant traffic and the sound of 11A's TV, to listen to whatever 12B was doing upstairs. Once or twice he thought he heard little noises, but he wasn't sure what they were, and so ignored them.
At the moment the clock turned 8 a chord sounded from above, and Cas realised that he hadn't heard anyone approach. Had 12B been sitting there even longer than he had, waiting in silence for their appointment? The thought made him snort with amusement.
Cas' upstairs neighbor didn't bother with any chatter - his fingers nimbly picked out an old Tom Petty track and his melodic voice soon joined it. Cas hesitated, but joined in at the chorus, his voice rough but willing.
They sang a few covers together, 12B effortlessly harmonizing, fusing their voices together in a way that made Cas shiver. Once they had done a few they both seemed to relax a little, and 12B began singing 'Lazarus'. As before he was allowed the verses to himself, his neighbor coming in on the chorus and herding his stray notes back into place. As before, the song faded into a long silence.
"Tomorrow?" asked 12B.
"Of course" agreed Cas.
Every night for two weeks Cas sat on his balcony and made music with his upstairs neighbor. They learned three new songs together, songs 12B had picked for their duet potential. He didn't say a lot; a word of direction here, a laugh of enjoyment there, and every night after their rendition of Cas' favorite song he would ask 'Tomorrow?' and Cas would say 'Of course'.
Saturday afternoon rolled around and Cas found himself with nothing better to do than take care of his overflowing laundry basket. He still had a few hours before his appointment with 12B, so he picked up every dirty item of clothing he had and hauled it down to the laundry room.
Cas had a lot of clothes, a lot of sweaters in wool and cashmere that all needed different wash cycles, and so it took him a good half hour to sort everything into piles on the laundry room floor. He sang to himself as he did so, practising the songs he had been learning with 12B. He bustled around, singing and dancing to himself, utterly un-self-conscious even when other people came in to use the washers. One man gave him an amused smile, but Cas was too busy thinking about his neighbor to notice.
As usual when he sang, Cas ended up on 'Lazarus'. He was on the second verse when he realised that the room had fallen deathly silent, despite its other occupant who until now had been bustling around himself. The man was stood stock still facing the washer, his back to Cas. Cas trailed off, frowning.
"Sorry, was I bothering you?" he asked. "I can stop."
The stranger turned to face Cas. He was tall and broad and clearly muscular, his plain black tee clinging to his frame in a very pleasing manner. His hair was short and mussed like he'd just got out of bed and his face - his face was the best part.
Cas had seen Michelangelo's David in the flesh - or in the stone, as it were - and as an art teacher he had seen more than his fair share of beauty. This man outshone it all. His eyes were green and deep and unfathomable, his cheekbones and jawline perfectly sculpted, his straight nose and apple cheeks dappled with freckles. His lips were dusky pink and formed a perfect cupid's bow that held his gaze far longer than was polite. The man, thankfully, didn't notice, staring as he was at Cas.
"Are you alright?" Cas asked the man.
The stranger cleared his throat, recovering a little but still looking as if he had seen a ghost.
"You're 11B…" the stranger whispered. Cas felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach. Surely not?
"Uh… 12B….?" Cas said.
The man nodded and smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile Castiel had ever seen. He took a step closer to it simply to bask in its warmth.
The man took a step closer too, so that they were opposite each other, close enough to reach out and touch if they so wished. They looked at each other, stunned. The air was thick with tension.
"Dean," said Dean.
"Castiel," said Castiel.
Cas' stomach was doing backflips and his mind was absolutely blank, he didn't know what to say or do. Thankfully the decision was taken from him as the other man took another step forward, closing the short distance between them without breaking eye contact. There was a small moment of hesitation and then he found the beautiful stranger's - 12B's - Dean's - lips upon his own.
They kissed as passionately as they sang and without meaning to Cas found his hands entangled in Dean's hair. Dean broke away from his mouth and instead kissed Cas' stubbled jaw, his neck, ghosting his lips across his throat. Cas shuddered with pleasure.
"This is crazy," he said breathlessly.
Dean paused, drawing back a little (though only a little). He too was breathless and his cheeks flushed, his perfect lips a deeper pink than before.
"Do you want to stop?" he asked.
"God, no," grinned Cas, pulling his neighbor towards him and kissing him with renewed fervor.
Cas' fingers brushed through Dean's hair as they kissed, and Dean's hands were on his back, his hips, pulling him close. They stumbled backwards, Dean pushing him into the wall, hot breath at his neck as he tugged at his shirt.
They parted for a moment as Dean took off Cas' shirt, grinning appreciatively at the lean body beneath. They shared another heated kiss, Dean's hands running hungrily across Cas' bare torso, tugging at his belt. Cas unbuckled it and threw it to the floor, not taking his lips from Dean's.
Cas took off Dean's jacket next, and the muscles beneath it only encouraged him to keep going, pulling off shirt and belt between fierce kisses and dropping them amongst his own forgotten laundry.
Dean's lips were at his throat, his body pressed close, the excitement of skin on skin making Cas' body tingle. The whole thing was insane, sure, but he was filled with nothing but want and need. Dean's animal kisses, and his soft grip on Cas' pants, told him that his neighbor felt the same.
Cas buried his face in Dean's neck as the other man slid his hand into his pants, letting out a small gasp as he took hold of his shaft. Dean stroked it slowly, breathing heavily into Cas' ear, and if he hadn't been fully erect before he sure was now.
"Are we… Are we gonna do this here?" he breathed.
Dean stopped, but did not remove his hand. He smirked at Cas, and it was the sexiest damned look the man had ever seen.
"Afraid we might get caught?" murmured Dean. His voice was low and rough and laced with want.
Castiel didn't say anything, but his worried glance at the laundry room door was enough to tell Dean that he was right. He smirked again.
"Isn't that part of the fun?" he breathed, leaning in to kiss Cas' neck. He sucked at the delicate skin below his ear and Cas couldn't help but moan.
"Fine," said Cas, grabbing hold of Dean's wrist and gently removing it from his pants. "But if we're doing this here we're doing it my way."
"What way is that?" said Dean.
"Fast."
Cas put a hand on each of Dean's shoulders, forcing him around until he slammed into the wall. Dean's eyes were wide with surprise, but quickly closed when Cas kissed him. It was a chaste kiss before Cas moved down to nip at his collarbone, to kiss a soft line down his belly until he reached the waistband of his jeans.
Cas didn't mess around, he unzipped Dean's pants and pulled them completely off, leaving his neighbor standing buck naked against the wall. Then he knelt before him and took Dean's solid member fully into his mouth. He didn't waste time teasing, but went straight in until he felt the head hit the back of his throat, holding it there until he had no choice but to come up for air.
"Jesus C-Christ, Cas!" stuttered Dean. Cas laughed and did it again.
Dean's eyes squeezed shut and he leaned his head back against the wall, his fingers twining in Cas' hair, clenching tight with every swirl of his tongue. He moaned.
Abruptly Cas let go of him, and when Dean opened his eyes Cas was just pulling off his own pants. He dropped them to the floor and stood naked before his neighbor, eyebrow raised in question and a mischievous smile on his lips.
In answer to the unspoken question, Dean grabbed Cas, kissing him again roughly before pushing him forward. Cas complied, seeing where Dean was going and bending himself over a dryer. His body was tense with anticipation but he forced himself to relax.
For a brief moment Cas' practical mind screamed that he was insane, he barely knew the guy, what were they going to do for lube, and a million other things besides - then Dean leaned forward and kissed his neck and all that was forgotten.
"Ready?" Dean murmured, his voice like tire on a dirt road. Cas' stomach jolted and he nodded, unable to speak.
Dean started off slow, pressing in gently, letting his precum slick the way. He rested for a moment, letting his hands wander over Cas' thighs and firm buttocks, leaning forward to kiss his neck and shoulders.
"Ready?" he asked again, and this time his voice was a broken growl, heavy with lust.
"God, Dean, just fuck me!" said Cas.
Dean did as he was bid, pressing deeply into Cas then pulling almost completely out, then repeating the motion. His groaned as he did so, deep, primal noises that made Cas' moans seem almost womanly in comparison.
Dean went at a sensual pace, making Cas' body quiver. Goosebumps erupted on his skin and he felt the sensation building every time his neighbor pressed into his sweet spot. His hands gripped the edges of the dryer so tightly that his knuckles turned palest white.
The other man increased his pace a little, grinding his hips into Cas' as he panted, trying to catch his breath. Over his shoulder Cas could see a rivulet of sweat make its way down over Dean's pecs and onto his stomach, where it pooled in his belly button. Cas licked his lips.
Dean's change in pace was ultimately what did it for Cas. Each thrust went deep inside him and caused a jolt of white fire to sear through him, and soon enough he couldn't take it any more
"Dean, I-I'm going t-to-"
Dean had seen it already He took one last thrust and pushed himself deeper than ever, causing Cas to let out a long, low grunt of intense pleasure as he took his release. His body tensed as he rode his climax, arms shaking and eyes squeezed shut.
Cas' tensing and pleasure sent Dean over the edge. He took another half-hearted thrust before he too took release. His cry of pleasure echoed a little in the high-ceilinged room, his arms wrapped around Cas.
Cas' legs turned to jelly and he collapsed onto the floor, bringing Dean down with him, who was still enjoying the last of his climax. Cas kissed his neighbor breathlessly on his open mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids, as he tried to regain his breath.
The two lay together for a moment, on the floor atop Cas' piles of forgotten clothes, limbs entangled in a highly impractical manner but both too exhausted to move.
"So, uh, 8 sharp?" said Dean. Castiel couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course," he grinned.
After their tryst in the laundry room Dean had kissed Cas softly, then taken off to shower and run errands. '8 sharp', he'd reminded Cas before he left.
Castiel hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else all afternoon. He had taken care of his laundry on auto-pilot then gone back to his apartment and spaced out in front of the TV. He went out to his balcony at 7:30 to wait.
He watched the hands on his watch circle ever closer to 8PM, his stomach knotted nervously. He didn't know what to think. Was 12B - Dean - content to leave it as a one-afternoon-stand? Were they supposed to just go back to singing like nothing had happened, and maybe if they crossed paths in the laundry room there would be a repeat? What did he himself want, for that matter?
The watch counted seconds to 8 and Cas strained his ears to listen, but could hear nothing from above.
8PM struck and there was silence.
At 8:05 Cas took off his watch and shook it, but it still read 8:05.
At 8:12 Cas went inside to double check, but the oven read the same crossed to the couch and flopped face down on it, eyes watery.
At 8:21 Cas got angry. He sat up, grabbed his keys, and stormed out into the hall. He stomped loudly up the stairs to the next floor, stomped loudly down the corridor, and thumped loudly on the door of 12B.
The door opened almost immediately and Dean stood before him, dressed smartly in dark jeans and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.
"You're late," said Dean.
Before Cas could say anything Dean kissed him softly, pulling him inside his apartment and kicking the door shut.
Afterwards (once they were dressed again) Dean led Cas out onto the balcony, picking up his guitar as they went. They sang together well into the night, practising every song they knew, grinning like idiots at each other. As usual they ended with 'Lazarus', which trailed into a long silence.
"Tomorrow?"
"Of course."