Dr. Castiel Novak rises early most mornings. He goes for a short run before showering and sitting down for a leisurely breakfast with plenty of time before he really has to get ready to head to the office. It's only about twenty minutes to the university from his apartment, and his first class isn't for a few hours yet.

Cas enjoys the sense of control and regularity that his schedule gives him. After a childhood in a chaotic house of five children, with close cousins often swelling the numbers into the teens, the ability to spend a half hour lingering over the paper with a cup of tea is luxurious to him. Quiet and solitude were rare commodities in his family's house.

That probably explains why he actually enjoys living alone, especially in a small city like Portsmouth. It's about as close to rural as his family will allow him to get without a fight. Coming out when he was in college was met with general indifference and a vaguely confused supportive attitude, but he suspects that if he tried to move more than fifty miles away that someone (probably Gabriel, possibly Anna) would be dispatched to drag him back home.

He wished that work held the same opportunity for quiet and solitude. If he was honest with himself, that was really why he pursued academia in the first place—the opportunity to bury himself in books and words. As a low-level professor he is used to sharing office space, but Dean Winchester is an unusually distracting office mate, with his lop-sided smile and bright hazel eyes. Beyond his physical assets, though, is the fascinating mix of boisterous optimism and bitter self-deprecation that piques Cas's interest. The fact that Sam is Dean's brother didn't particularly help. Cas wants to focus on their classes and helping Sam with his research, but is itching to interrogate his TA about his childhood in general and his brother in particular.

Cas sighs, thoroughly perturbed by his distraction at the mere thought of Dean Winchester, and finishes his breakfast quickly. Maybe if he gets to the university early enough he can lose himself in his research instead of daydreaming about complicating his life any further.

#

"So, Sammy, how's work going?"

It's about a week after the briefcase fiasco, and Dean is horny as hell and pissed that Sammy is cockblocking him with his thesis or whatever bull. Dean figures he has a good excuse to annoy his brother, overall.

Sam is instantly suspicious. He can tell the difference between Dean's genuine interest in his life and vague, leading questions.

"Why?"

Sam can be subtle and artful when he has to be, but by now he rarely is with Dean. Maybe when they were kids, when they were both trained to avoid the obvious problems in their lives, but now they're adults. Not that Dean ever acts like one. Now he lets loose with his brother and barrels into questions with similar abandon.

Dean groans and slaps down a bill to pay for their coffees. He's headed to his third survey class (he even made it through the last one without puking) and Sam is heading in to the library for research or whatever it is that theologians do for fun.

"I can't ask questions about your life? Jesus, Sam, I'm just curious. Can you stop with your hyper paranoid shit? I'm seriously sick of it."

"And I'm sick of this crush you have on Dr. Novak. I told you—"

"Sam, seriously? I've barely been in my office because if I'm closer than five feet—which, by the way, would require me to stand on my desk with my balls to the wall —to your professor I can feel your disdain gnawing away at my soul. If I didn't know you better I would guess that you had a thing for him."

"That's called displacement, Dean."

"Bitch, you are a theology student, not a psych major."

"Whatever, Dean! You promised when I agreed to come here for my doctorate."

"And now you're doubting me. Honestly, Sam, I'm hurt."

He's joking around, but seriously he's kicking himself for ever agreeing to that ridiculous rule. Maybe it's just the close quarters, but Dean is slowly becoming enamored of all of Cas's idiosyncrasies and it's making him feel half like a Hallmark card and half like he really wants Cas to bend him over his desk and fuck his brains out. And Dean knows that neither the gooey Hallmark version nor the sweaty X-rated version is going to fly with Sam.

#

Dean is hoping that Cas is out of the office by the time he gets Sam off his back and into the library, but there is no such luck. Cas is carefully reviewing notes and referring to his dog-eared text, occasionally running a hand through his dark hair, if its disheveled state is anything to go by.

Dean has to silently scold himself for thinking about Cas's hair.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says with barely a glance up from his work.

"Hey, Cas." He pauses awkwardly in the doorway, clutching the significantly cheaper replacement briefcase in his hand until the other man glances up at him curiously. He clears his throat and awkwardly crosses to his desk. "So, how has your first week been?"

"Stressful but fairly uneventful, I suppose." Dean leans against his desk, a crooked smile playing across his features.

"Let me guess, you're one of those professors that can't sleep the night before the first lecture of the semester?"

Cas swivels his chair around, looking sheepish. "I worry about embarrassing myself."

"I have a tip. Puke in front of a class and then you will literally never be embarrassed by anything ever again."

"Strangely I don't think that would make me feel any better."

"Well then maybe just remember that I've done it, and then you'll realize that you can never be a worse professor than me."

Cas frowns slightly. "I'm sure you're an excellent professor, Dean. You certainly seem knowledgeable about your subject. And your TA clearly admires you."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I don't think Garth is the best judge of character."

"Your brother speaks highly of you," he says quietly.

That stops Dean's wisecracking. "Well, that's...he's my brother," he sputters.

"In my experience, that does not guarantee the kind of warmth and pride evident in your brother's demeanor when he talks about you."

Well, whatever their childhood was lacking, love was really never missing. Dean wonders briefly whether it was missing from Cas's childhood, then steers himself away from the 'sorry your childhood sucked' section of his Hallmark half.

"Well don't hold it against him," he says lightly. "Other than that he's a pretty smart kid."

Cas considers him steadily, but merely says, "Yes, he is very intelligent."

The way those blue eyes bore into him are very unnerving, Dean decides. It's worse that he can feel the gaps between himself and his self-deprecating humor when Cas looks at him like that. He busies himself with his papers, trying to shake that feeling off.

"I must confess, I am at a loss as to what exactly you teach in your classes," Cas says finally. Dean wonders if he was going to say something else. Chick flick crap Dean didn't want to deal with.

"Don't worry, I don't know how you guys talk about God so much without a megachurch or a televangelism routine. Fair's fair."

"Many of the theology majors I have met recently seem to be agnostic or atheistic. Most academics view it primarily as a vital tool with which to examine history and society rather than a roadmap for life."

"And the ones who view it primarily as a roadmap?"

"Are probably Jesuits," Cas finishes automatically, smiling slightly. "Although maybe they would view them as equal purposes."

Dean snorts. "Obscure Catholic joke, there, Cas. You're lucky our dad taught at a Jesuit university for a few years."

"Where?"

"Loyola, in Maryland."

"An excellent school. How long was he there?"

"A few years. I don't remember exactly."

A total lie. They were there for about two years before John lost his bid for tenure there. Something about drunkenly berating his department chair. At two in the afternoon. In front of students. Apparently that doesn't go over well in academia. It was rough trying to keep positions after that.

Cas mercifully changes the subject. "Perhaps that is where Sam's fascination with the divine came from." He laughs softly, "It brings to mind the image of Christ discussing the torah with the rabbis as a child."

"Yeah, Sammy's totally a Jesus figure. Especially with that hair." Dean shrugs. "Maybe it did inspire him. He was only ten or so." He turns to Cas. "What made you decide to study theology?"

The question catches the other man off guard. "I suppose I was looking for a roadmap at first. But what I found was much more rewarding than a roadmap."

Dean pauses. "Well shit, now I feel inadequate. Films were just the thing I could stand analyzing for the rest of my life."

Cas smiles easily. "Analysis implies that you find meaning in them. I don't think that should make you feel inadequate."

"You haven't gotten the awkward smiles after my brother says he's studying theology. 'And what do you study?' 'Oh, I have my doctorate in film, ma'am,'" Dean says, reenacting the usual conversation.

"Surely people are impressed."

"Sure, impressed that I wasted my money on such a ridiculous degree."

Cas shrugs. "It happens with theology as well. The humanities are no longer considered particularly profitable."

"Yeah, but at least you have history backing you up. I have to convince people my degree is a real thing."

"Still, you are gainfully employed, no matter what they say."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, you have a point. It just gets tiring, you know?"

Cas's smile is slightly bitter, and disappears quickly. "I do know. Very well."

Dean knows he touched a nerve, but skirts the awkward silence quickly. He glances at his watch. "Well I gotta run to class and attempt to salvage my professional reputation."

#

Cas nods and smiles shyly in farewell as Dean beats his hasty retreat.

Cas may not be particularly effusive or gregarious, but he is skilled in reading people's body language. He suspects it comes from being the youngest brother in a raucous household that often required delicate maneuverings to avoid fraternal backlash. At any rate, when he meets Sam outside of his second class, the taller man is tense and irritated despite the hours he spent in the library. Cas considers him for a moment before awkwardly beginning, "Sam, you seem—"

"Yeah, Dr. Novak. Sorry, I'd rather not talk about it."

"If you need time to yourself, I don't mind if you are absent for class this afternoon."

Sam gives his professor a tired smile. "I'm good, Cas. I could use the distraction."

Cas returns the smile. "Good, because I could use the assistance, even if I don't necessarily require it."

#

Dean walks in on Cas and Sam working together at the kitchen table. He's not surprised, but for a second he doesn't really know what to do with himself. He puts his bag down and shuts the door slowly behind himself.

Cas looks up from the table and gives Dean a small smile. He wonders if Cas is thinking of their conversation earlier. He wonders if Cas thinks about him when he's not around. He must. Working with Sam would do that, but probably not in the way that Dean wants.

"Hey," Dean says, taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the couch. "What are you two nerds up to?"

"Research," Cas says, nodding to Sam's laptop.

"Fun," Dean goes to the fridge, scooting by Cas and Sam.

Cas bends his neck to scribble something on a legal pad with a pen that looks like it cost more than Dean's TV and it's a nice TV. Dean wets his suddenly chapped lips at the sight of exposed skin between Cas's hair and the collar of his light blue button down. Dean has to close his eyes and force away the image of planting a kiss there. Luckily, when he opens his eyes, Sammy is glaring at him so intently that Dean thinks his little brother might be trying to set him on fire with his mind.

Dean grabs a beer from the fridge and leans against the counter, "Do you guys mind if I watch Double Indemnity? We're analyzing it tomorrow in class and I should probably watch it once more before I try to teach it."

"Are you reading the novel as well?" Cas asks, turning a little in his seat to look at Dean. Sam lets out a yawn and shuts his computer, recognizing that research time is probably over now that Dean's here.

"I gave them a passage of it," Dean says. "They're supposed to read that and then watch it on their own and we're just going to focus on a couple of scenes tomorrow in class, but we'll see how that goes."

"Do they not normally do their classwork?" Cas asks.

"They've gone a whole summer without me," Dean says, taking a smug sip of his beer. "They've forgotten what a hard ass I am, so I'm guessing they're going to see how much they can get away with."

Sam rolls his eyes, "I'm pretty sure that to be a hard ass you'd have to do a little bit more work."

"I'm going to do work right now, bro."

"You've had these students before?" Cas asks.

"Yeah," Dean says. "I'm actually advising a few of them. I've had almost everyone in the class at least twice. They're all majors."

"It must be nice to have a relationship already built with your students."

"You'll get there, buddy," Dean finds himself smiling. He covers it up with a gulp of beer quickly. "Anyway, I'm going to go watch the movie. You guys want to join?"

"I gotta work on a paper," Sam says, standing up.

"I haven't seen the film," Cas says.

"You haven't?" Dean asks. "But you know the book?"

"Oh, yes. It's one of my favorites."

Dean doesn't know what to do, but he knows that sitting down with Cas and watching a movie might be the hardest test of his life. Sam glares at him as he walks into his bedroom. Cas gets himself a beer from the fridge and Dean wants to make a joke about him being a little too comfortable, but it gets caught in his throat. He kind of likes that Cas is comfortable. Cas plops himself down on the couch and gives Dean as shy smile to signal him that he's all set.

Dean puts the DVD in and sits down on the opposite side of the couch. Bobby slinks out of Dean's bedroom probably, though he could have been anywhere, and jumps up next to Cas. Bobby glares at Dean, dares him to give into the temptation.

Dean presses play and focuses on the movie.

#

That night after Cas leaves and Sam lectures him about his habits and track record and the usual stuff, Dean settles in for some "Dean Time." He needs it. He takes off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor and gets into bed and starts lazily stroking himself. It doesn't take much at all. Just the thought of those pink lips wrapped around his thick cock and he's already panting.

He wonders what Cas looks like naked. He's lean, probably has the hips of a god. Cas would touch himself while he sucked Dean off, not too much, though. He'd just get himself good and hard and Dean would come down his throat like he was a fucking virgin. Then Cas would fuck Dean, good and hard and Dean would be ruined for anyone else.

Dean doesn't let himself get off that easy, though. When he feels it building up at the base of his stomach, his balls pulling tighter, he sucks a couple of fingers into his mouth. He could find lube or something, but there isn't enough time. He just needs to get something inside of himself. He licks his fingers, imagining that their Castiel's. He groans around them and pauses. He doesn't want to be too loud. It would be too weird if his brother found him fucking himself on his fingers.

But he doesn't hear anything and he goes back to it. He pulls his digits from his mouth and raises his hips off the bed. He's so happy he has long fingers. It doesn't take much, he needs more, but just the thought of Castiel's cock in his ass is plenty to get off. Two fingers in, fucking himself on them, imagining it's Cas, telling himself in dirty whispers how hard he would let Cas fuck him, his hand wrapped around his cock, moving quickly. And he comes, Castiel's name tumbling over his lips.

Dean stays on his back for a second. He needs to clean up, but not before he catches his breath.

"I'm so fucked," he says to the air.