Dean lugged the last of the boxes across the hall and into Castiel's apartment. He dumped it unceremoniously in his new bedroom and made his way to the kitchen where Castiel had a beer waiting for him on the bench.

"Thanks, man," Dean said gratefully, gulping down a third of the bottle before he spoke again, "and, uh, thanks again for letting me stay here."

Castiel's blue gaze was inscrutable, "I'm happy to help, Dean."

Dean hung his head, "It's just…"

Castiel frowned, "Dean, I am happy to have you here. Living alone is hard for me sometimes. I come from a large family, remember? You are actually doing me a favour"

Dean smiled at this but his face soon fell into a slight grimace, "There's the job, too."

Castiel had encouraged Dean to apply for a desk engineer's job at the radio station. After convincing the head engineer, Ash, that he was not 'overqualified' and simply eager to enter the world of radio, Dean had been offered a position. The hours were a little odd, being a newbie, Dean could work the middle of the day, or after midnight, but it was paid work and at least it meant seeing more of Castiel.

Kind of. Castiel was still friendly at the apartment, but seemed aloof at the station. Dean wondered if that had something to do with the fact that he didn't want people to know he and Dean were friends or if Cas needed that stick up his ass to get the job of selling airtime done. Dean had suggested once or twice that Castiel join him for lunch, but Castiel declined every time, citing a busy schedule. It was starting to make Dean feel a little self-conscious.

Castiel took a sip of his beer and placed it on the counter. "Dean, it was nothing. You could do that job with your eyes closed and Ash is already talking about moving you up to a regular daytime slot."

"Really?" Dean asked. This was the first he'd heard of it.

"Yes, really," Cas said, exasperated.

Dean grinned suddenly and Castiel couldn't help smiling back. Castiel nodded his head and grabbed the pizza menu off the fridge, tossing it at Dean.

"Traditional moving dinner, pizza. Pick something you like and I'll call it in later," Castiel smiled again before moving out into the lounge. Dean heard the TV switched on and hung back in the kitchen for a moment. Why couldn't Cas be this friendly at work?

Dean shrugged it off and went to sit on the couch with Cas. At times like this, he could pretend there was something between them. That they were just a couple, sitting around, watching TV. And then he'd snap back to reality, resisting the urge to reach for Castiel. Dean sighed and settled into his side of the couch. Castiel handed him the remote without looking at him and snuggled deeper into the couch cushions. Yep, at times like this, he could almost imagine they were together.

Dean woke early on Saturday, he was taking all the overtime he could get at the station, trying to boost his savings. By two o'clock he had finished his shift and decided to head to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner before heading back to the apartment.

"Cas!" Dean called as he let himself in. There was no answer. Deciding Castiel was asleep or out, Dean put the steaks in the fridge and headed to his room, intent on catching up on his lost sleep-in. He had been living with Cas for three weeks now and it was a decidedly comfortable arrangement. They were both equally tidy, that is to say they kept their own crap out of the shared spaces and in their own rooms. The only source of tension was Dean's sense of obligation to Castiel. Oh, and the sex. Well, lack of sex.

Moments that threatened their happy home were Dean's constant attempts to repay Castiel through things like making meals for both of them or buying all the groceries before Castiel had a chance to do it.

The night before, Castiel had come home to find Dean cooking dinner. Again.

"Dean," he said seriously, after shucking his coat and rolling up his sleeves, "you know you don't have to cook every night."

Dean shrugged, "It's no trouble, Cas. It's the least I could do."

Castiel huffed before he could stop himself. Dean stiffened noticeably, still stirring the contents of the saucepan.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel was quick to say, "I just want you to feel at home here. Not like you owe me anything."

Dean had just narrowed his eyes and held up a spoonful of bolognaise sauce for Cas to try.

Today, however, he had decided that he would cook steaks and Castiel could make one of his awful, healthy salads. They would share the chore of making dinner.

That took care of one source of tension. The other was Dean's tendency to regularly 'wet dream' about his housemate. Now that they were living together, Dean simply could not deny or explain away his attraction to Castiel. He wanted the other man, with a desire that bordered on obsessive.

Castiel would walk into the kitchen in the morning, clad only in low-slung pyjama pants and Dean would have to excuse himself for a quick hand-job in the bathroom.

Dean found himself intently watching Cas eat or drink. The way the other man's lips would move around his fork, or the way his throat would undulate as he drank. Dean just did it without thinking. And once or twice he had to stop himself from pulling the fork or the glass away from Cas' mouth and replacing it with his own lips.

But it seemed a lost cause. Where once, Dean would have sworn Castiel felt similarly, there was nothing. Castiel seemed distant at work and made no attempt to flirt with Dean at all. And it was kind of killing him.

All of these thoughts dogged Dean as he passed Castiel's door on the way to his own room. The door was closed but Dean thought he could hear muffled noises from inside. He raised his hand to knock but was stopped by an unfamiliar sound.

'What the hell is that?' he thought, 'sounds like buzzing…'

Dean's brain caught up a moment after his cock did. His dick stirred at the thought that Castiel might be using a vibrator in there. The rational part of his brain suggested that Castiel might be using an electric razor before countering that with the conclusion that Castiel would shave in the bathroom not his bedroom.

Dean rested his back lightly on the wall opposite the door. Holy shit, what if Cas was using a toy in there. Dean placed a quelling hand on his crotch as he imagined Castiel, slick and open, pushing down onto a thick vibrator. In his mind, Castiel pumped his hips up and down, breathing heavily as he fisted his own cock in time with the thrusts. Dean imagined Castiel's pink, puckered hole blooming around the vibe as he pushed it in and pulled it out. Dean had to bite his lip from moaning, but it didn't work, a sharp moan escaped. But Dean realised the moan wasn't his; it was coming from inside Castiel's room. Oh yes, Castiel was definitely fucking himself. Or someone else.

Dean's grin slid from his face and his stomach went cold. He hadn't seen any evidence of another person in the apartment. No jacket slung across a chair or hung on the rack near the door. He couldn't hear another voice coming from the room, just Castiel's, and just as Dean decided to move off to his own room, shamefaced, he heard a cry.

"Dean!"

Dean was instantly hard again. He rubbed his hand over his denim-covered cock and tried to convince himself that barging into Castiel's room was a bad, friendship-ending idea, before he heard one, last, drawn-out moan and the buzzing noise stopped.

Dean let his head flop against the wall, his dick hard and aching. He struggled to breathe quietly, Cas finding out he was a creep and a pervert would probably be just as bad as heading in there to see if Castiel was up for another orgasm.

But now, Dean had to get away from Castiel's door without the other man noticing. Dean tiptoed back to the front door of the apartment, opened it and then slammed it shut loudly.

"Cas!" Dean called in his loudest, indoor voice.

He headed into the kitchen again, pulling open the refrigerator door, crashing the steaks on the counter and then shutting the fridge door again. Loudly.

Castiel wandered out of his room and into the kitchen, sleep pants hanging only by the jut of his hipbones. Dean forced out a smile and a "Hey, man."

Castiel rubbed a hand over his face and Dean tried to ignore the smell of sex he was sure he could sense.

"Dean," Castiel started, head tilted in confusion, "why did you slam the front door? Did you go out again? You had only just got home."

Busted.

Dean cleared his throat and tried lamely, "I, uh, found a spider and took it outside. You know, circle of life and all that."

Castiel just squinted at Dean as though he were a particularly difficult sudoku puzzle.

"So," Dean started, keen to avoid where this conversation, and his thoughts, might be going, "how do you feel about steak for dinner?"