It was still dark when his phone, shoved carelessly under his pillow, began to ring. Dean Winchester's entire pillow vibrated, interrupting his already short sleep. Insomnia wasn't granting him any mercy, hadn't for months, so he treasured the sleep he had. Phone calls stealing it from him were bound to end poorly.
Yanking it from under the pillow, Dean glanced at the time before answering the call. "It is goddamn five in the morning. What do you want?" he hissed into the speaker.
"Dean?" said the girl who worked with the dorm office. Had he slept with her? No, but he'd taken her out, hadn't he?
A bit less harshly, he answered, "Yeah, Jen?"
When she spoke, Dean heard the smile in her voice. Thank God, he'd guessed her name correctly. "You know how we don't like one guy in a two-guy room, right?" Without waiting for an answer (he was going to say no), she continued. "Well, we don't. Right now, you're one of them, and we need to fix that. So we're moving you."
Still too tired, he didn't process her words right away. Sam, his younger brother, had moved out to an apartment with his boyfriend, leaving him alone in the dorm room they'd shared. It was strange they were moving him out altogether and not just waiting to put in a freshman or something in to fill the space, but to have a room to himself? He didn't bother questioning it. "But why move me?" he muttered, rubbing his eye.
Jen sighed, as if it was obvious and he was too slow to understand. Maybe he was. "When you moved in you said, if need be, we could move you. So here we are, moving you. Your new dorm room is in the single dorm hall, number 1127. You're not the only one moving, so if there're boxes in the hall when you get there, it's because we just threw another guy in 1130. Be out by seven tonight."
At this, she hung up.
Rude.
Dean sat up and looked around the room. A mess. If he were going to be out by seven, he'd need to start now. But maybe a coffee first.
-•-•-
He had come here with Sam. Dean would get a coffee and Sam would ignore the little Seattle's Best completely, heading directly to what took up most of the building: the library. Dean would watch him disappear among the shelves, sipping at his coffee until he emerged again, carrying a pile of books half his size.
That wasn't the only consistent thing, however. Every morning he was served by that too-cheerful gut with the dark hair and the deep-but-happy voice and the crystalline blue eyes. Eventually when he walked in with Sam, the guy would smile and start preparing what he always ordered. No words were ever spoken apart from what he considered to be their usual.
"Tall black, please, to go."
"Here, that'll be two seventy-six."
"Thanks. Why do you always make me use pennies? Is this your way to make me give you a tip?"
"I'm paid by the hour, sir."
"…I'm not sure I believe you, but here, keep the change."
The guy would smile. "Thank you. Have a nice day."
Dean started smiling back. "Thanks. You too."
That's how it was.
But today, it was different. When Dean entered, looking around the library, he was alone. Coffee Guy noticed as he put the Styrofoam cup to fill up with Dean's usual. "Hey, wait," Dean called over as the guy almost pressed the button. He waited as the leather jacket-clad man walked over. "I want it here, and a Venti."
The guy was obviously fairly surprised, but he switched the foam cup with a larger red mug. Dean watched it turn black as it filled. "That's pretty cool," he said, attempting small talk while they waited for his mug to fill.
The guy hummed curiously. "Oh, you mean the mug? The color changes with heat, I think. Maybe." He laughed. "I'm not actually sure, but your total is—"
Dean's stomach made a noise.
A loud one.
The guy grinned. "We've got bagels."
When Dean just smiled, he said, "Right, well, your total is four sixty," and handed him a bagel—everything.
The hand that reached out to take it was large. "How'd you know I'd want this kind?" he asked, the remainder of his smile still on his lips.
The guy shrugged. "Lucky guess, I suppose," he replied, sliding the full mug across the counter. "It's hot. Don't drink it—"
Dean took a sip and winced, panting.
"…Don't drink it now, it'll burn your tongue," Coffee Guy finished.
"Thanks for telling me that earlier, dumbass."
"It's Castiel," the guy corrected him. "My name's Castiel."
Another sip. It wasn't so bad now. What kind of name is Castiel? Dean wondered to himself, studying him. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, taking another gulp of coffee.
Castiel shrugged, moving to wipe at the counter. His movements, Dean couldn't help but notice, were fluid, almost graceful. "Maybe," he answered vaguely in a tone that implied that the last thing he wanted was for Dean to have recognized him.
This guy was weird.
But he liked him.
Blue eyes rose, met green ones.
Yeah. He liked him.
Green Eyes cleared his throat. "Is it from class? What college you go to?"
Blue eyes rolled. "Washington State. Obviously. I live here."
Exasperated sigh. "Well, what are you majoring in?"
"Pediatrics. What about you?" Castiel asked.
Dean's smile was proud. "Grammatica. Also known as linguistics."
Then the coffee was gone. Dean muttered a curse.
"Got something to do?" Castiel asked.
"Yeah, gotta move. My brother moved out of our room, so I've been switched into a single."
Coffee Guy gave him a curious look. "Me, too."
Dean returned it. "Weird," he commented, not sounding as interested as he had before. Nodding at Castiel, he thanked him and headed out the door. Fingers closed around the handle of the mug.
It was red again.
-•-•-
Off in the distance, the church's clock tower struck six. Dean collapsed onto a box of books. That was a bitch to clean. He had barely eaten all day. His fingers were tired and his arms were sore, and he still needed to take all these damn boxes down to the hallway with the single rooms. At least, however, they were all in the hallway. Maybe he could call Sam to get some help? Nah.
"Hey, yo, Dean!" a girl's voice called. This one was familiar, and he turned with a grin.
"Jo!" Dean shouted, relieved at the sight of the blonde at the other end of the long hall, heading toward him. "Any way you could get me some kind of cart or somethin'?"
She shrugged, stopping in front of him and surveying the boxes, haphazardly filled and stacked. "I could snatch a shopping cart."
The ceiling suddenly becomes fascinating when sarcasm is involved. Dean's eyes rolled up to look at it. "That'd be crap. Just help me out with the lighter stuff, will ya?"
Her shoulders rise and fell once more, just as indifferent, and lifted his box of sheets as he grabbed his textbooks, leaning back in an attempt to stay balanced and praying he'd make it to the elevator. Without collapsing.
They repeated this process.
Dean huffing as he hefted the heavy things into his arms and lugged them down the hall.
Jo smirking as she took the clothes and the pillows and casting amused glances Dean's way.
And then every box was in room 1127. Jo hugged him and he thanked her as she strolled back down the hall. Dean watched her until she disappeared around the corner before reentering his new room. It was quite a bit smaller than the one he'd shared with is brother, with a little kitchen-y place that only had a cheap microwave, a mini fridge, a sink, and a few cupboards. It was obviously expected that he go dine somewhere else on campus, which he didn't mind, but still, he was quite the lazy man and probably would just stock up on mac 'n' cheese and ramen noodles. Probably. Not like he made girls breakfast anyway.
Or any meal, for that matter.
Why should he?
They came for sex, not for cheap cooking.