1st time. Clammy hands. Confusion. Anxiety.
2nd time. Suspicion. Anger. Testy.
3rd time. Acceptance. Passive. Tiredness.
4th time. Irritated. Indifference. Tiredness.
Castiel, the recent graduate, had moved into his first permanent apartment complex just last month. So far, there's been 4 times the fire alarm of his building went off, causing a swarm of grouchy residents shuffling out their doors at 3 AM. Unfortunately for Cas, he didn't get the memo until the 3rd , and hopefully final, time the alarm went off expectantly. At this point, considering the timely hours he needed to be awake in order to work at all at his job, he considered the proposition of simply not leaving his flat when the angry shrieking of the fire alarm went off. But the worry-wart inside him always won, always made him trudge outside in the early morning chill, blanket wrapped around himself.
So yes, it started with a fire alarm.
Castiel marches out to the front entrance of the older apartment building, his yawns joining the collective drone of sleepy voices that rises over the early-morning mist, the first hints of dawn creeping over the horizon. Cas makes his way to an empty section of curb and plops down on it, tightening his thin blanket around his body in an attempt to conserve his draining body heat. He gives in to his grogginess and allows gravity to tilt his head down, his eyes fluttering shut it if means that he'll stop yawning. Suddenly, a second figure in front him catches his attention, and Cas snaps his head towards a man, bent over slightly and tightly weaving his arms around himself to try and brace the chilly morning air. The stranger's teeth are chattering, and Castiel can see his warm breaths freeze around him. The man glances at Cas, and then Cas' blanket, and tilts his head pleadingly, almost if he could care less that it is a random stranger he's trying to warm himself with. Nonetheless, Castiel obliges, obviously too tired to care, and waves open an arm at the stranger and gestures for him to come closer. The cold man nearly runs over to Castiel and sits himself as close as he can to him, dragging to other half of the blanket and wrapping it around his frigid body, hunching close to Cas' shoulder.
"… Uh, great morning for a fire alarm, isn't it?" the unexpected visitor asks with a low, husky voice so exquisite that Castiel can't help but startle awake at. Cas blinks a few times and turns to the speaker, getting an eyeful of tawny hair, incredibly green eyes, and a smirk that returns the warmth to his face. Cas suddenly is nodding, a small laugh escaping his lips at the man's comment. He can't help but notice that he is oddly okay with this completely random person crowding him.
"Hi, my name's Dean."
"Hello, Dean."
After 20 minutes of talking, eyebrow wiggles, and awful jokes, all of the residents of Parkview Place are given the all-clear and proceed back to their apartments, if not at a slow pace. Dean and Cas rise to their feet and follow the mob of residents back to the front entrance, the two boys still talking and laughing like they've known each other for years. Any other passerby would think that they're roommates, and not absolute strangers that seem to have had more connection with themselves than any other person they've ever met. And so, after a few minutes of waiting, Dean and Cas get a ride up on an elevator to their respective floors and part ways. Or so it seems.
Dean walks off the elevator first, and Castiel follows, blanket still held between them, when they come to the realization that they live on the same floor. In fact, they're neighbors. Dean unlocks the door to room 505 and hands Cas his blanket just when Castiel opens 506. Cas looks back at Dean one last time, eyes locking as they mentally scratch their heads in disbelief, and then the pair close the empty hallway behind them and resume their day.
Cas strolls across his dark wood flooring, dropping the cold blanket on his counter top as he brews a cup of coffee. Castiel relishes in his apartment, loving the modern style he chose himself. Perfectly painted white walls stare down at the wooden floor, and plush, angel-blue couches adorn the small living room, a low white table separating the two couches. Among the simple paintings on the walls, several brown bookcases harbor hundreds of books, from medical journals from his college days to his secret collection of Harry Potter books. The whole comfortable, yet stylish, atmosphere of Cas' apartment makes him never want to leave, and the large window at the very front of the main room overlooking downtown Topeka makes every penny worth it.
Dean strolls across his normal brown flooring, loving every single creak the cheap material makes when he places his weight on it. Dean lies down heavily on his matted, dark green couch, splaying himself across the material as he surveys his surroundings. Being a somewhat new member of this particular apartment complex, and given the fact that Dean is lazy, ensures that the walls of his flat stay a defaulted gray color, but in time the walls might look a lighter green shade. Several framed rock albums give color to these walls; classics like Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, even an old Beatles album somewhere. In the corner sits multiple boxes of dusty vinyls, and next to it is a record player on a stand. Adjacent to the boxes is a rather large TV with an X-Box and PS3 console engulfed in video games. Dean breathes in deep, admiring the small of warmth and coziness, and it makes every penny worth it.
Since it's thankfully a Saturday, Castiel props open his window a bit before grabbing his quick dinner and sitting down at his favorite barstool, turning on his TV before he admires the sunset's descent across the mid-evening sky. Castiel absentmindedly flips through some of the cheap cable shows, slowly munching on his dinner of mac and cheese, watch a few minutes of Doctor Sexy or Supernatural. Cas doesn't know why, but his ears perk up, and suddenly the first few beats of 'Hey Jude' glide into his ears. Cas gets up from his post and abandons his dinner in pursuit of the music player. He follows the music to his window and hears a man on his left softly singing the lyrics. Castiel blushes hardwhen he figures out that the only possible culprit would be Dean, the cold man from that very morning. Silently, Cas pushes up the window until he can perch himself on it, cradling his head on his flattened arm, soaking in Dean beautiful voice. A gentle breeze rolls across Castiel's face as he sighs, the smell of fresh air and a hint of earth calming him just as much as Dean's lullaby. Cas watches the scattered trees in front of buildings sway in the wind, only a few cars idling down on the street below now. The stars are out; perfect round orbs with white light emitting from them, the moon joining in with his children moments later, constellations stretching across the night sky to form celestial objects. Castiel wonders on about the galaxy, their infinite cosmic mysteries surrounded by unyielding void, his eyes closing slightly from the sheer tranquility of everything when he hears movement coming from Dean's apartment. Cas glances over, and in the corner of his eyes he sees Dean's head peeking out the window, his singing halted as he too gazes, enchanted by the stars. Dean and Cas barely acknowledge each other, Dean not questioning Cas if he was listening to him and Cas not questioning Dean if he was watching him.
The stars are watching, maybe even God too. Maybe.
Castiel resumes his normal life after meeting Dean. He goes to work at the hospital, a few days overtime, comes back home late and after dinner, goes to bed. He likes his routine, no matter how mundane or ordinary it may seem, but Cas seems to treasure his structured plan anyway. But something is keeping him up at night, keeping him writhing in his white sheets and waking up every time at 4 AM exactly. Dean.
Cas doesn't even know Dean, not even his last name. But every night he wakes up, softly groaning his name, hands gripping the sheets, a thin layer of sweat on his face. In every single one of these episodes, he wakes up rock-hard, more needy for a stranger than for anyone else in any romantic relationship he's had so far in life. Cas fussily gets out of bed, rearranging his sheets and jumping quickly into a cold shower for a few moments before he throws on his pajamas again and falls back asleep. But tonight, Castiel waddles out of the shower and into his living room, where he lies down on his couch and watches a few late-night re-runs of The Gilmore Girls. Not his favorite show ever, but it'll have to do. Cas blinks his tired eyes a bit before letting them wander to his window, left open again on accident, letting all the cool air in. Suddenly, Castiel hears a commotion coming from the window, and he carefully maneuvers through furniture and sticks his head outside, and hears the 'clink' of a bottle and what almost seems to be… crying? A low, soft sound, followed by hiccups, is all Cas hears. Without thinking, he stretches as far as he can towards Dean's open window and whispers in.
"…Dean? Is that you? Are you okay?"
The crying and hiccupping stops abruptly, and a shallow voice answers back.
"Not, not really. I-I'm really sorry if I woke up."
Castiel is taken aback; Dean's fragile tone of voice is something so unusual, even if Cas has only really spoken to him once.
"Dean. Come into my house. The door is unlocked. I really don't mind."
Castiel walks to his front door and opens it, Dean already there in front of him. Dean looks positively wrecked; his hair is tussled, his shirt is wrinkled and stained, and even in the dim light of the moon Cas can see the angry red lines rimming Dean's eyes. Without hesitation, Cas pulls Dean inside by the hand and sits the two of the on the couch. Dean nods his thanks to Cas and sighs when Castiel tugs him closer, Cas leaning back on the armrest and slowly shifting so Dean's cradled in his lap, his head on Cas' chest, them both comfortable even on the tiny couch. Castiel thumbs the stray hairs on the other man's head, slowly twirling strands of sandy hair in his fingers absentmindedly, listening to Dean's shallow breathing. Dean buries his face into Cas' torso, fingers gently grasping the soft material of Castiel's sleep shirt. Cas sings 'Hey Jude' quietly, just like Dean did, and before long both of them are asleep, moonlight soaking their faces.
The next morning, Cas wakes up alone on the couch, a yellow sticky note in his hand.
Thank you –DW.