A/N: This is a little free write that I decided to type up since I do not see many Lystiel fic out there. Let me know what you think and if I should continue it somehow.

Warning: This fic contains BL/Yaoi (Boy's Love) and sexual content. Don't like, don't read.

Drunk Fumblings and Warm Loneliness

'I am not going to hear the end if it.' Lysander's brisk walk turns into a full out jog when he chances another glance at his watch. The avant-garde singer is twenty minutes late to band practice and has nothing but his absentmindedness to blame. Naturally, he misplaced his notebook and was only able to locate it thanks in part to Candy's tenacity to help others. That problem has been resolved, but now he faces a much bigger one; an impatient redheaded one. Finally, the back of the hall comes into view and he trots down the stairs leading to the basement.

"Come on babe, you knew what this was from the beginning."

'Hm, who is he talking to?'

"I know you said you weren't looking for a girlfriend right now but, I didn't know you were sleeping around with other girls!"

"Sleeping around suggests that I owe you something sweetheart."

"But I—"

"Get it through your thick head girl; I. Am. Not. Your. Man."

"Ugh!—"SLAP! Lysander starts in surprise when the loud echoing noise is followed up by a girl yanking the door open in tears. They stare at each other for an awkward pause, before she pushes past him to run down the hall. He contemplates going after her to check on her but, his best friend's outburst changes his mind.

"Fucking bitch!"

"Castiel." The reproaching look he tries to fix him with is totally ignored.

"Oh and look who decided to show up!" The faux redhead is sitting on the speaker with a half-gone cigarette dangling from his lips and a bright red handprint visible on his left cheek. 'That must have hurt.' "You just going to stand there with that dopey look on your face?"

Suppressing the urge to sigh, he starts setting up their equipment and offers up an apology despite his friend's rudeness. "I apologize for being late. It seems I misplaced my note—"

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"…"

"You're such a fucking airhead. I'm surprised you make it to this shithole everyday—"

"Castiel, I am not the one who struck you."

"Huh?" Lysander stares at him meaningfully until the guitarist can no longer hold his mismatched gaze. The silver-haired virtuoso may be the calmest and most mature of the two but, that does not make him a doormat either. "So, you heard all of that? Whatever…let's get this over with."

"You know…this is the third time this week you have been in this kind of situation."

"And?" At this point he has put out his cig in favor of tuning his prized guitar.

"And, don't you think it would be best if you slowed down a bit?"

"Heh, I can't help that I'm insatiable. And it also isn't my fault that these tarts don't understand what no strings attached means."

Lysander chews on his bottom lip as a scowl clouds his brow. His friend never used to be this kind of person. 'Deborah has really damaged you.' It was just last month that the opportunistic brunette broke up with Castiel to pursue a music career without him. Lysander could tell his best friend was devastated, but the desolate teenager did everything in his power to hide it. He may have the others fooled, but Lys knows the ginger feels hurt beyond repair. Besides music, the only way to express his pain and anger is to act like this big tough playboy which they both know he is not. Tough? Maybe. Playboy? Definitely not. "Castiel…"

"What?"

"You know I am here if you need to—"

"Can it will you?"

Knowing better than to push any further, Lysander shrugs and pulls out their latest sheet music. "Shall we get on with practice then?"

….

"Aaah, this is lame." An hour later they are walking down the road to their respective homes.

"What is?" Lysander's green and gold eyes flit over to his companion as he glares up at the sky.

"That girl was supposed to come over tonight after practice."

"Maybe if you had not hurt her feelings, she would have still been willing to come over."

"I even went through the trouble of picking up booze and everything." He continues as though the other never spoke.

"I can come over if you want."

"No, I mean she was supposed to keep me company all through the night."

"I can keep you company." He arches one fine eyebrow when Castiel chokes on his spit before throwing him an incredulous look.

"You don't get it at all!" I mean the kinda' company only a girl can give. The kinda' girl that is stacked. The kind you wouldn't take home to mama, and—you know what? Why am I wasting my breath? You wouldn't understand anyway."

'Why do people assume that?' "Of course I understand what you are getting at however, the way I see it you have two choices right now. You can go home and drink on your own; or I can join you and ease a bit of your loneliness."

"Who's lonely?" The protest comes out in a half-hearted mumble and they both know it is the closest he is going to get to admitting he appreciates his friend's offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Lysander is analyzing his best friend's small home as the homeowner takes Demon out for a quick walk. Any evidence that Deborah used to spend a great deal of time here is zero to none. The apartment now looks like the lonely, little pad of a bachelor. The door slams open as Castiel returns and Demon runs over to settle himself on his doggy bed; already used to Lysander's presence.

"Why're you just standing there spacing out like an airhead? Fire up Flix and find a movie."

"I am not an airhead." The blunt and stoic protest is lost on his friend as he disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he has a full bottle of tequila and an arsenal of snacks that are unlikely to survive the night.

Two and a half hours later, they are halfway through a second movie and more than halfway through the girthy bottle of tequila. The pair have made themselves comfortable on the floor against the couch with a fortress of pillows around them. They have long since lost interest in the movie are content with huddling under their respective blankets and enjoying the fuzzy warmth of mild intoxication. They have not spoken a word in awhile so Castiel's sudden groan catches Lysander off guard. "Aaaw man."

"What's the matter?" Since they are sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder, the poet noticed his friend's restlessness quite some time ago but decided not to comment.

"Mind your business."

"Perhaps I could, if you were less vocal about your business."

"Ugh, not even your annoying ass voice is enough to make it go limp."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Grieving companion or not, Lysander is starting to get his fill of unwarranted verbal abuse.

Picking up on the indignation in his best friend's tone, Castiel sighs before throwing him a sheepish apologetic frown. "Look, don't worry about it. I'm just ticked off about that girl canceling. I've got a good buzz going and when I drink I get horny."

"I see. You cannot possibly be sexually frustrated though; judging by the way you have been going at it lately."

"Heh! Am I sensing some jealousy here?"

"Let's not be foolish."

"Haha!" The silver-haired teen's bothered scowl is always enough to make Castiel chuckle.

"In any case, take care of your business." Lysander yawns before turning his slightly hazy focus back to the T.V. Castiel startles at the overly casual suggestion and stares at the other long enough for him to feel it and meet his gaze again. "What is it?"

"I—what do you mean by take care of my business?"

"What do you mean by what do I mean?"

"You can't mean what I think you mean."

Okay now he is starting to feel confused and being tipsy is not helping. "Castiel, surely you have had health or sex education by now? Clearly, I mean go ahead and masturbate."

"Holy shi—dude that is what you meant! I can't do that while you're here!"

"Why not?"

Castiel's mouth hangs open as his odd friend continues to look at him in that casual, stoic way of his as if he is the one being strange here. "Wha…Why would you be okay with that? Wait do you jerk off with other guys or something?" The guitarist's coal eyes widen as if seeing him in a brand-new light. "You hear about it happening in high school but, I always thought it was just a dumb joke. To think you—"

"Do not get any strange ideas Castiel. You forget that I have an older brother and we share a small apartment. It is not uncommon for us to accidently walk in on each other. And due to our…'air headedness', as you put it," It is obvious he does not appreciate the adjective often associated with him. "We often forget to knock or that the other is home entirely. After awhile we just stopped being phased by it at all."

"…That's some crazy reasoning…but what makes you think I can get off with you around?!"

"Well based off your statement earlier about my voice, it is apparent that despite my presence you can keep an erection. In fact, I am pretty sure you still have one now." As if confirming this accusation, his peculiar eyes drift to where he knows his crotch is under the blanket. Castiel baulks in shock before slumping down and covering himself with both hands. Lysander's brow arches in mild surprise when the usually daring teen's face changes color to match his artificial hair. He cannot stop the amused smile from gracing his lips as he decides to stir the pot a little. "Naturally, if I make you that nervous, you could always go to the bathroom."

"I don't like your tone."

"What?" The innocent look he tries to give him is heavily contradicted by the mocking smirk still present on his face. It is not often he has the opportunity to tease the infamous Castiel. "I am simply implying that if you are too embarrassed you can always go hide your shame in the bathroom."

"…"

"I can make for an imposing figure."

"…"

"So, I understand why you would feel insecure—"

"Shut your gob!" He cannot help but chuckle at his frazzled best friend. Many consider Kentin to be the sensitive type but, Lysander knows his friend can be just as easily riled up. Still, he is not intent on truly pissing him off, so he decides to stop while he is ahead and turn his attention back to the movie. After a few minutes, Lysander can feel the alcohol taking its toll. His body feels nice and relaxed and there is a nice warmth resonating in his chest and stomach. He did not realize his eyes were closed until they snap open in response to all the noise and movement going on next to him. A quick glance reveals that his frustrated friend decided to take his advice. Castiel's brow is furrowed in concentration as the lump of his hand moves in obvious up and down motions under the blanket. That combined with his slightly labored breathing leaves no question as to what he is doing. Honestly, Lys did not think he would actually heed his advice but, true to his word, he does not mind. In fact, within minutes his eyes are drooping closed again.

"Shit…tch."

Once again, his attention is drawn to the struggling faux-ginger at his side. "What is it now?"

"I can't get off!"

"Castiel…" It takes all his willpower not to roll his eyes.

"What? It's not my fault okay?! It's the booze do don't give me that exasperated groan. That's why I needed that girl over tonight, not you."

"You are giving me a headache with your constant complaining. I was feeling quite good a few minutes ago."

"How do you think I feel?!" Lysander closes his eyes as another wave of pain throbs at his temples. The repeated shouting after the extended period of tranquility is starting to kill his buzz and make his head hurt.

"Cas—"

"Bitching about a headache when I have this raging hard on?!"

"I—"

"You really have some nerve—?! What are you doing?!" Castiel's eyes almost pop out of his head as Lysander throws the blanket back and grabs the waistband of his sweatpants. When he starts to yank them down, Castiel latches onto his wrist in an iron grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing man?!"

"I am tired and would like to get some rest, so let's get this over with."

"I—you—get—" The teen is genuinely at a lost for words. His unbelievably candid friend cannot be serious…right? His silent question is quickly answered when the singer proceeds to pull his pants down to his knees. His erection springs free, slapping him in the abs with all his excitement. They can see the redness of his engorged tip straining for any form of relief. Castiel may be stunned but Lysander shows no sign of being phased as he licks the palm of his hand. The homeowner nearly jumps out of his skin when that hand wraps around the base of his arousal. "Hey! St—uh mmm." The protest quickly dies on his lips as he starts to pleasure him with sure, firm strokes. His hand feels oddly foreign; strong, masculine, aggressive—unlike any girl's. Despite this, he cannot deny that it feels astonishingly good. So good in fact, that he can feel the pleasure mounting much quicker than he would like. The hand he did not know was resting on the other's shoulder tightens as his breath comes out in desperate pants. His other hand closes around nothing as his hips push off the carpet on their own accord to thrust into the warm hand currently servicing him. "Ugh—ah hah, hah ngh fuck."

Lysander's heterochromic eyes were previously half-lidded and focused on the task at hand but, they flint up for the first time to study the pleasure twisted face not too far from his passive one. "Almost there?"

Just like before, the low husky tone of the other teen's voice does not quell his lust. If anything, it spurs it on. "Ye—ah! Shit!" The words leave his mouth in a moan as Lysander suddenly picks up the pace. Even with the precum aiding his way and causing wet sounds to fill the silence around them, Lys pauses, leans over his lap, and allows a mouth full of spit to drip onto his throbbing member. This sends the redhead over the edge. "Ah fuck!" His lust reaches its' peak and rockets out of him in thick ropes. The silver-haired teen jerks back in time to avoid any hitting his face but, his hand gets completely soiled. He squeezes one last time from base to tip, causing a shudder to run down Castiel's spine, and gets unsteadily to his feet. He leaves Castiel in his post-orgasmic state to go wash his hands and when he returns he finds the homeowner mostly under the covers and sleeping peacefully as can be. For the second time tonight, Lysander has to stop himself from rolling his eyes before shutting off the television and making himself comfortable next to him. No thoughts on what just happened occur to him as he falls into a deep, warm, slumber.

….

When Castiel wakes up, it is to Demon licking his face and a mild headache. "Ugh, alright-alright down boy." A quick glance to his almost dead phone and he finds out he has slept well past noon and missed another day of school. Not that such news brings any concern to the constantly absent rebel. The only consequence he will face is an even more annoying than usual Nathaniel and a livid principal. 'Whatever.' He forces himself to get up, walk Demon, and pop some painkillers to quell his headache. He finally takes the time to shower and rinse away all the ache from sleeping on the floor and alcohol sweats. As he washes, he notices dry cum on his midriff and squints his eyes in confusion. 'The hell happened last night? Didn't that tart cancel on me?' As he steps out and starts the process of drying his dyed hair he notices a note attached to his fogged-up mirror:

I assume that you will not see this until much later in the afternoon and I will not be seeing you in school later. I took the liberty of disposing of the trash we made, walking Demon, and tidying up the living room. Contact me of you are feeling the need for more company. I am more than willing to oblige.

-Lysander

"Tch." He is such a busybody. Castiel rolls his eyes as he continues to dry his hair with vigorous rubs of his towel. 'Why does he keep treating me like some fragile broad?' He is not lonely, and he does not to be coddled like a child. Seriously, the redhead had forgotten that the taller teen had come over. They were watching movies and drinking right? 'Yeah and then I got horny and—'

"Wait!" Castiel slowly stops drying his hair as the events of last night break through the haziness of his hangover. 'I couldn't get off and Lysander he…he…' Suddenly he feels too warm. When he looks up he can see his face is flushed deep red. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest he can hear it in his ears. Above anything else Castiel is shocked and confused by his own reaction and how he could let a thing like that happen.

'How am I supposed to face the guy again?'

A/N: Hope you liked this little free write. I am thinking about changing it from a oneshot to a full story. So follow it if you are interested. Also drop some suggestions or just your thoughts in a review because it may inspire a deeper plot and direction for what happens next. Thanks for Reading!