To Castiel Novak, Dean Winchester was a god. Hell, maybe he actually was a god. With skin so tan, it was as if the sun had made love to him, and eyes as green as fresh grass in the spring, it didn't seem too far out of the question. He had a smile that could melt hearts and a flop of dark brown hair that was practically begging to have hands run through it.

Castiel groaned, scribbling across his notepad, realizing he had, yet again, scrawled Dean's initials over his notes. Where had his attention span gone?

"Problem, little bro?" Gabriel materialized out of nowhere, forcing Castiel's notepad to go leaping out of his hands and sprawling across the room. Gabriel guffawed and sauntered into the kitchen as Castiel grumbled and scooped the papers up, curling back up on the couch. "You do realize you can't spend your entire semester in my apartment, right? You are going to have to face your roommate eventually. Besides, that shit is expensive."

Castiel stared hard at the scribbles across the page, as if he could will them away; or maybe will away his brother. Gabriel didn't know about Castiel's unbearably attractive roommate. The roommate with whom he had stuttered out a greeting to on the first day of the semester before locking himself in the bathroom until he was sure he was alone. The roommate that was most likely, definitely, at least a little bit straight. That likely didn't know how gay Castiel was.

Castiel cleared his throat. "I know that Gabe. I just...your apartment is….cleaner," he stammered lamely. That was mostly true, for what it was worth. Gabriel's apartment was definitely neater and more organized than the room that Castiel shared with Dean Winchester. Underwear was never laying about, his bed was always made, DVD's always in order. Yes, at his dorm, Castiel never had to worry about falling onto the couch and landing on top of heaps and heaps of candy and their wrappers.

Win some, lose some, he figured.

Gabriel snorted. "What, are you living with a neanderthal or something? Just go tell 'im to pick his shit up man! Go. Now. Get out of my apartment, I'm having company in like ten minutes and you definitely don't want any part of that."

Castiel's face flushed as he shoved his things into his backpack, heaving it over his shoulder and hurrying out of his brother's apartment before he could meet the conquest for the week.

The walk back to campus was spent convincing himself to man up, take charge, speak with confidence. It was his dorm too and he should be able to spend time there too, dammit, regardless of the fact that he couldn't so much as glance at Dean without drooling a bit. He unlocked the door to the dorm and swung it open forcefully, only to have his machismo confidence drain instantly upon finding Dean sprawled across the couch a petite blonde pinning him there.

She whipped around, bright-eyed and giggling. "Oh my god. You must be Dean's roommate!"

Castiel could only stare at her, his bag dangling limply from his hand, feeling as though his heart were shattering. he knew the man was straight, he knew that he'd had a reputation in high school, so this shouldn't have come as such a surprise. Dean noticed his discomfort and sat up, sending the blonde to the floor. "Dammit Jo, he probably thinks we were fucking or something," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Castiel swallowed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Joanna Beth Harvelle, meet my elusive roommate, Castiel Novak."

Joanna hopped off of the floor, brushing the seat of her pants off and holding out a hand. "Hi there! I'm the only female that can tolerate Dean Winchester's presence for extended periods of time." Castiel cautiously shook the hand that she had held out. "Obviously you haven't even made it that far, considering you're like never even here?"

Castiel glanced down, mumbling something about always studying. "The kid's taking like 16 credits. Nutcase," Dean piped up from the couch.

With that, Castiel's head snapped up with a glare. "I'm sorry I don't think the minimum is enough," he snapped, his jaw clenched.

A flicker of hurt crossed Dean's face and guilt overwhelms Castiel. He'd never so much as talked to Dean, let alone insult him. Oblivious to the uncommon outburst, Jo giggles, "Oh! Shots fired!"

Relaxing a little Castiel huffed out a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get him back," Dean murmured, standing up and stretching. A small coil of heat finds it way to Castiel's core-at the promise of revenge or the slight sliver of skin that is revealed when Dean's shirt rides up, he couldn't tell.

Jo smirked. "Whatever. I have to get back, I promised some classmates that we could study together for tonight's test, so." she shrugged. "See you later. It was nice to meet you Castiel. I hope you're not really a rude hermit!" With that, she glided out of the dorm, the door slamming behind her, leaving the apartment with an unsettling silence.

Dean stood there awkwardly, scratching at his neck. A burst of displaced confidence forced Castiel to speak again. "I want you to clean up your side of the room. It's….displeasing."

Dean frowned, shaking his head as if he had been woken from a dream. "Uh...yeah, sure. That why you're never around? Am I too much of a slob?" He wasn't sure where the accusatory tone in his voice had come from, or why he felt so guilty all of a sudden for realizing it.

Castiel shook his head, walking to their room, Dean following behind him. "It's not that, it's just…" Was he going to say it? What was it? "I'm bad at talking to people. Interaction isn't really my niche." It was the truth, at least one of them. Castiel had always been the quiet child, especially when next to the rambunctious Gabriel or outgoing Anna. He was the quiet child in the background of everything; he saw it all, without a comment.

As Castiel reopened his notes on his desk, discarding the scribbled page, Dean began to pick up the disaster on his side. "You know man, that's cool. You could have just said something at the beginning of the semester," he shrugged.

Castiel hunched over his desk, feeling his heart beginning to race at the prolonged interaction. "Yeah, well….I'm just-"

A hand pressed into his shoulder, causing his whole body to tense and freeze and then his heart kicked into double time. "Hey man, it's cool. I don't mind. Just, thanks for telling me." Castiel nodded wordlessly at this, swallowing thickly. A companionable silence fell over their room as Dean continued to clean up while Castiel took more notes. His focus wavered repeatedly though, as he continually inhaled Dean's scent behind him, tuning in on the quiet melodies he was humming under his breath.

"I have an idea!" Dean burst out suddenly, causing Castiel to throw his pen in the air. He whipped around in his seat, shooting Dean a disdainful glare. Dean only shrugged apologetically at him. "There's a party tonight. Jo and I are-"

"No thank you," Castiel cut him off, awkwardly glancing away, training his eyes on a spot on the wall. Dean jerked back as though he'd just been hit. "I just...I can't. I need to read two more chapters and start the outline of a paper tonight. I also have a quiz in the morning." Technically, he didn't have to start the paper until next week, he'd already studied for his quiz and was more than confident that he would pass. He was on his second read through of the chapters, merely highlighting and writing down necessary information. Dean looked a little bit put off, frowning before turning around back to his bed.

"Oh. No worries, I got it," he mumbled, stacking his textbooks. For a split second Castiel felt guilty before the anxiety of having had that conversation overwhelmed him and he buried himself in his notes again.

For Dean Winchester, the world was spinning. It was the first major party of the semester, he had about five beers in him and a cute brunette nibbling on his neck, playing with a belt loop on his jeans. The room around him was a hazy blur, bass thudding in his ears, easily confused for his heartbeat now and then.

"Can't we get out of here Don, this isn't fun anymore," the girl whined in his ear. Dean winced at that, shoving her away. Her breath smelled of peach vodka and her bra strap was making its way down her arm. She looked at him, her eyes half-lidded and a small pout evident. "What the hell was that for?"

Dean squinted at her, watching her blur from two back into one. "It's Dean, you dumb bitch," he muttered, pushing himself off of the loveseat, stumbling into a couple behind him. He slurred out what he hoped was an apology before attempting to find the door.

Jo appeared next to him, startling an odd cry from him. "You okay buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Go get lucky, I'm going back to the room."

"Do you need an escort…?"

Dean laughed her off, finally locating the front door and making his escape. The cool autumn air was refreshing on his face, whispering through strands of sweaty hair and cooling his body down. He staggered down the street, laughing at himself, his lack of finesse. What the hell was he thinking? He'd never turned down a lay, no matter what the chick called him.

So what the hell was his deal now?

It wasn't just now though, no matter how much he drunkenly tried to convince himself. It'd been the past few months, since the beginning of summer, for that matter. At another party, on a night that felt a million years away now, Dean had been far drunker than any time he could ever recall. A man had approached him, flirted with him, whispered naughty things and before Dean knew it, they were in the bathroom together and Dean was receiving the best blowjob he'd ever gotten in his life. Afterwards, the mysterious man only stood up, wiped his mouth, winked and disappeared. Dean never saw him again.

Except in his dreams, both waking and sleeping. But it wasn't just him. It was other relatively attractive men he may have come across at one point or another. More than once he caught himself jerking off to a husky voice in his imagination and that startled the hell out of him each and every time, yet never killed his boner. If anything, it only made it worse.

As the summer dragged on, Dean became less and less interested in women, much to his fear and disdain. He had tried, time and time again to reclaim his high school self, full of cocky confidence that wooed every woman in the vicinity. Time and time again, he failed, either giving up or running away, the condom still tucked neatly in his pocket.

Dean laughed to himself, a high-pitch distorted sound, as he continued his walk to his dorm. "I'm gay," he muttered to himself. "I'm fucking gay!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

In his dorm, Castiel jolted into wakefulness, swearing that he had heard someone shouting outside. He rolled over restlessly when he heard it again. "Gay, gay, gay! I think I like dicks!" Castiel sat up warily. That sounded like… "My name is Dean Winchester and I-!"

Oh God. Castiel threw himself out of his bed, throwing a T-shirt on and grabbing his keys before sprinting outside of the apartment. On the front lawn was his roommate, kneeling on the ground, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Castiel winced as there was another wretch before hurrying over.

"Jesus Christ Dean," he murmured, pulling his roommate to his feet. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Man, I don't even know," Dean slurred, laughing. "All I know is that this fucking chick called me Don and, man, I am done with girls. Like, what the fuck-"

"Dean," Castiel said carefully, struggling to keep his voice level. "Shut up, okay?" His voice was soft, masking the true apprehension behind it. He was met with a confused look and a slight nod. "Let's go brush your teeth, get you to bed."

He nodded again, this time with a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah. Bed. That sounds great Cas. I think I want to go to bed. No girls for-"

"Dean," Castiel repeated, this time a warning was laced through his words. Dean's jaw snapped shut and they continued their wobbly walk back into the dorm.

As Castiel tucked his roommate into his respective bed, trashcan by his side, a water bottle tucked under the pillow, he realized how loudly his heart was racing in his chest. He took a deep breath, backing away from Dean and falling back onto his bed. What the hell was he supposed to do in the morning? Pretend the exchange never happened? Confront him? Run away to Zimbabwe? Move in with Gabriel for real? Ignore the man for the rest of the semester out of fear for jumping him?

He let out a small terrified whimper and pulled the blanket over his head. Across from him, the young Adonis snored lightly while he tortured himself on having just possibly heard said Adonis come out.

Let me know what you think! Chapter two is already in progress; I don't like to be one to leave readers waiting two weeks for new chapters.

I own none of the Supernatural Universe or characters.