Anna is dressed and gone before Castiel wakes up. He feels around the bed for a few moments, fingers clutching at the bare white bed sheet. There's nothing except for a yellow post it note stuck to the discarded pillow that reads: 'Sorry for everything I said last night, hope we're okay. See you later, love Anna Bananna.' Castiel smiles to himself; he hasn't called her Anna Bananna for months now. It was a pet name he gave her when they first met and she spent three weeks on a Japanese Banana diet.

After another fifteen minutes of lounging around, burying his head into his pillow and trying and failing to get back to sleep, he figures he might as well get up. So he puts on his favourite Mama Cass album and tries to work out what kind of clothing the day calls for. He doesn't have plans to go out or see anyone, and he doesn't dare venture to The Coffee Shop so soon after Anna's confession, so he pulls on yesterday's grey jeans and finds a clean black t-shirt to go on top of his grey thermal. The winter rain is relentless against his bedroom window, and he remembers that he still hasn't contacted his landlord about the faulty window fittings. He glances at his clock and sighs; almost 2pm. He makes a mental note to stop sleeping in so late.

To keep himself busy, he decides to sort through the boxes under his bed again. He pulls out old family photo albums and letters from his mum. There're other things too, like his uncle's old records and a heavy, untouched bible that has been passed down through the generations and has now ended in Castiel's hands, seeing as Michael insisted that if it was given to him, he'd just burn it. He wipes the coat of dust from the ancient book and flips it open, squinting at the tiny print and still humming along to 'Make Your Own Kind of Music'. He thinks back to the day when Michael turned down the book, he was about fifteen and Castiel was eleven. Their mom had told Michael that he would be receiving it as a gift for his sixteenth birthday, alongside the new parts for his motorbike that he wanted. Michael scoffed, kicking his football around the kitchen despite how many times their mother had begged him not to, and told her that he would set the book, and her, on fire if she put thing that thing anywhere near him. Castiel flinches at the memory; he couldn't get his mom to speak for three days after Michael's comment.

The family photo album proves to be much less distressing, and Castiel comes across a photo of himself with Michael and Gabriel, taken just a few weeks after Gabriel was born. Castiel's childish face is beaming in the photo, proudly leaning against his older brother, who has one arm around Castiel's shoulders and the other cradling Gabriel to his chest. Castiel stares at the photo and tries to remember how it felt to be ten years old. Maybe if he'd known then what was to come, he wouldn't have looked so happy. He frames it nonetheless, and finds a photo of him on his fifth birthday, his mom crouched down next to him. He puts it aside for his mantle piece.

Castiel takes the photos downstairs, his feet padding against the old carpet draped up the stairs. It still smells musty, even with a heavy dose of Febreeze, but Castiel has to admit he really loves this house. He's impressed at how homely he's managed to make it feel in just a few months. Anna bought him a shaggy rug for the living room because she said the bare floor boards were ugly, but Castiel likes them like that, they're speckled with paint and memories of all the people who lived here before him.

He glances around his tiny living room, deciding that today will be the day of his big winter-clean. He will need to pop to the store to get some polish and maybe some more bleach, but it's not like he has anything better to do. The music is still playing upstairs, and he's looking in his cupboards for what he's going to need, singing along happily when there's a sharp knock at his door, 'Say nighty-night and kiss-' Castiel freezes, his forehead squeezing into a frown as he tries to work out why Anna always has to turn up at the most inappropriate moments, because he knows for a fact that she will not help him clean. With a sigh, he rolls up his sleeves and makes his way to the front door. His heart starts to pound when he sees a figure of someone who is definitely not Anna through the glass panels. Both hands on the lock, he cracks open the door.

Dean Winchester grins at him, holding out a coffee cup that says 'Cas' down the side. Castiel stares at him with a slightly amused expression. He has no idea why Dean is at his house or how Dean even knows where he lives, but he's feeling quite okay about it. At least this means they're still friends. Dean cocks his head to one side as though he's trying to see past Cas, and Castiel blushes, realising this is the part where he fully opens the door so that Dean can come inside.

Dean watches Castiel as he almost trips himself up trying to open the door quick. "It's okay." He says with a chuckle and a wave of his hand. "I just came to give you this." He presses the steaming coffee cup into Castiel's free hand and holds his gaze for a few seconds. "I need help at the library, and Anna said you'd be the person to ask, so if you help me I'll buy you another coffee, but it's cool if you can't." Castiel nods quickly, following Dean's explanation. Help in the library, he can do that, that's definitely his department. And free coffee sounds great, especially Dean's coffee. "So, you could give me a call when you're free?" Dean continues, using his hand to spin the cup around and revealing a phone number scribbled on the other side. Castiel stares at the number for a few seconds, and then realises he still hasn't said anything, and that his fingers are burning from holding the cup too tightly.

"Thank you." He says instinctively. "Thank you for the coffee. Of course I'll help you, yes, that would be nice." He swallows down a bunch of other stuff he wants to say. "How did you know where-"

"Anna." Dean finishes. "She told me where you live." Castiel wonders if this is the right time to bring up the other thing she told him, but he has no idea how you just throw something like that into conversation, so he hovers in his doorway and notices for the first time that it's not raining anymore.

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel says, and they both know he's thanking Dean for more than just the coffee. Dean's expression softens, and Castiel wants to reach out and touch the skin where his neck meets his shoulders. But he doesn't, and Dean eventually gives him a lazy wave and jumps back into his car, throwing Castiel one last smile before he drives away.

Castiel closes the door behind him and inhales the scent of caramel that has filled his hallway. His stomach rumbles at the smell, and the phone number scribbled down the side of his cup tingles against his fingers. He can't help but spend the next five minutes memorising it, repeating it softly to himself and writing it down on a post-it note so he doesn't ever forget. He practices writing Dean's name underneath, and then sticks it to his fridge. On the front of the cup, the familiar 'Cas' is scrawled, and beneath it a smiley face. The gesture makes his stomach ache for the smell of Dean Winchester's cologne, for the feel of Dean's head on his shoulder, the touch of his hand to his knee. He wants to experience the roughness of Dean's hand in his own again. He wants it all, so he sits gingerly on the edge of his sofa and dials Dean's number, shakily pressing it to his ear before he can change his mind.

"Hello?" Dean answers, and Castiel fights the urge to hang up. He feels desperate and clingy and maybe he should have thought this through, Dean left barely ten minutes ago, and now Castiel feels the same shame he felt when he was fourteen year old and stalking Ben Jerome in between the lockers and the history corridor.

"Hello, Dean!" Castiel says, way too happy. He wants to sound spontaneous but ends up sounding over-dramatic. Dean takes a moment to reply, and Castiel squeezes his eyes shut with embarrassment.

"Cas?"

"Yep!" Castiel says, and then realises he's never said 'yep' in his entire life. He puts his free hand flat on his thigh and anxiously rocks back and forth. "I'm free now."

"Now?" Dean repeats, "Okay, I can do now, I can work with that. You want me to come pick you up?" Castiel pictures himself in Dean's car and digs his nails into his thigh.

"Yes, that would be helpful, I'll see you soon. Thank you." Castiel blurts, hanging up before it becomes obvious that he's getting a full-body erection over the idea of riding in Dean's car with Dean sitting beside him. This is the most daring thing he's ever done, other than making friends with Anna, so he feels excited and reckless and scared all at once. He sends Anna a text that reads 'Dean is picking me up in his car so we can go to the library. I never, ever thought I'd get to say that!' She promptly replies with 'Remember: don't be silly, wrap your willy!' which Castiel blushes at and deletes.

Deciding what to wear proves to be less difficult now that he has full roam of his rather limited wardrobe. He settles on a pair of black jeans and his navy blue KU hoodie. He wants to look casual but not like he doesn't care, and Anna always says it compliments his skin, whatever that means. He runs his fingers through his hair and tries to push it into something socially acceptable, but he has to settle with what is obviously swept-back-bed-head. He stares in the mirror at himself, trying to think of ways to make his appearance more appealing. Sighing, he gives up, realising he's left his coffee in the kitchen and hoping it hasn't gone cold.

Castiel waits outside with his coffee, and a few minutes later a beat-up black car pulls up, Dean waving him over with ease. Castiel fumbles into his hoodie to pull out his keys for the door, juggling the coffee into the crook of his arm and holding his cell phone in his mouth. It proves to be a difficult task, but it's worth it because when he walks over to the car Dean is laughing with that toothy grin that makes Castiel a little lightheaded. He leans over the passenger seat and opens the door.

"That was a struggle." Dean comments, his teeth edging across his bottom lip. He's wearing his brown leather jacket and the black Led Zeppelin shirt. Castiel scratches the back of his neck and sends him a small, quirky smile.

"It's a tricky door." He answers as Dean pulls the car into motion.

The Library is barely twenty minutes away, but Dean somehow manages to find time to give Castiel a full music appreciation lecture, starting with Elvis Presley and ending with The Smashing Pumpkins. He throws different CD's into the smashed up stereo and flips through song after song, cursing when the CD player jumps and idly commenting on which ones are his favourite. Castiel tries to make a mental note but by the time they arrive at the library, his head is swimming with Dean's argument on why Madness are better than The Jam, despite what Crowley might think.

"That guy might be a smartass when it comes to all of his psychobabble crime stuff, but he don't know jack about real music. He prefers Marilyn Manson's version of 'Personal Jesus' to Depeche Mode." Dean says with a small sigh, as though this statement alones sums up why Crowley can't be trusted. Castiel can't help but grin, and Dean blushes as he realises he's been talking for quite some time and Castiel hasn't said a word. "Sorry, what were we talking about?" Castiel swipes his student card against the turnstiles, about to say something, when Dean suddenly presses flush against his back, squeezing them both through the turnstile at once. "I wanna hold your hand!" Dean shouts, and Castiel doesn't even know what he's talking about because he's still recovering from having Dean pressed against him, laughing in his ear and pushing him forward by his hips. Before Castiel can gather his thoughts, Dean grabs his hand and takes off towards the stairs, pulling Castiel along with him and ignoring the disapproving looks of the security guard.

They run up to the third floor together and find it almost completely deserted. Castiel feels his heart hammering against his ribcage and knows it has nothing to do with the running, but rather with the hand that is still squeezing his own and the scent of a certain leather jacket combined with sweet coffee and steamed milk.

"I wanna hold your hand." Dean says again, this time in a sing-song voice, and he beams down at Castiel and Castiel just opens his mouth little and shakes his head because Dean Winchester is completely insane and completely beautiful. "That's what we were talking about." Dean continues, and he looks down at their hands which are still clasped together, their fingers interwoven. "It's one of my favourite songs." Castiel nods along, trying to commit it to memory, favourite song, favourite song, I Want to Hold Your Hand, The Beatles. Dean begins leading them into a maze of bookshelves that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. "I wanna hold your haaaaaaand, I wanna hold your hand." He sings. "Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man, and please, say to me, you'll let me hold your haaaand."

Castiel can feel his face flaring up instantly. His feet don't seem to be co-operating and he almost trips over himself. Dean eventually comes to a stop, and he glances at Castiel and then at the bookcase in front of him. Castiel has to remind himself to breathe like a normal person.

"This is where I get stuck." Dean says with a click of his tongue." I know this is where all the Phys Ed books are, but I don't know how to use that computer thingy that gives you a reference number to the book you want. It's totally dumb, but I always used to just go through every book until I found the right one. It's probably time I learned how to use it." Castiel nods, looking at the books and trying to make out the words on the spines because did Dean really just sing 'please let me be your man' or was Castiel hearing things? He thinks back to the cinema and he so badly wants to say something, to ask what it meant, but the words are dry on his tongue and Dean is still talking about Phys Ed books and references and how much he hates technology, and the lights are flickering above them and Castiel just really needs a minute. "I could ask the librarian people but I wanted to ask you, you're smart so I thought you'd know about all of this. If it's not too much trouble. We'll go back to the shop after this, it closes at 1pm on a Saturday but I have keys so we can sneak in through the back and dodge the cameras, or you could just come back to my place, that would be easier. I mean I don't have any caramel syrup there but I have coffee so I could still make you a drink."

Castiel is staring ahead at the books in front of him, barely making out the words 'Physical Education in the Workplace.' He wonders how you could write a full textbook on something so articulate. What even is physical education in the workplace? Since when do you do P.E lessons at work? His heart is racing, and he's already imagining what Dean's bedroom looks like, and he can feel Dean touching his arm and he can smell the coffee and the leather jacket. But really, a full textbook on P.E in the workplace, it sounds pretty stupid to Castiel. Dean moves his hand to Castiel's wrist, and then suddenly there are fingertips in his palm but Castiel can't, for the life of him, pull his eyes away from the textbook. His breathing is all wrong and he keeps taking big gasps. Dean moves closer and Castiel begins to shake, his eyes wide and his jeans pushing awkwardly against his arousal. He feels Dean lace their fingers together; his body close enough so that Castiel can feel Dean's breath hot on his neck.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." Dean is saying, but Castiel barely registers it. "Just a suggestion." Dean breathes, "I know Cas..." and Castiel so badly wants to look at him. "I know you're scared. I am too. When I'm around you... I just... I don't know, I don't even know what I'm doing." He suddenly pulls away from Castiel and takes a step back, a wild look in his eyes. "What am I doing? I'm so sorry, Cas." Castiel turns on the spot and a scene plays out in his head, where he slams Dean into the bookshelf behind them and kisses him full on the mouth. Except it's just that, a scene, and Castiel isn't really kissing him, he's glued to the floor and Dean is staring at him, open mouthed and breathless; and Castiel is just staring back, searching Dean's face for some sort of clue as to what is happening between them. The air between them is hot and stuffy, and after a few moments of silence, Dean swallows down whatever it was that he was going to say, shrugging off the awkwardness with a laugh. Castiel can't help noticing the look of hurt on his face, it sits in his eyes for second, and then it's gone.

"So are you going to show me how to use this machine or not?" Dean says as though nothing just happened. The image in Castiel's head of a business man doing jumping jacks slowly dies. He can't work out what really happened and what he imagined, so he silently follows Dean to a library computer and tries not to feel disappointed in himself for handing the whole thing so terribly. He realises he might have just ruined any chance he could have had with Dean and feels his stomach coiling up with self-hatred. That was his moment, his one and only chance to kiss Dean. It would have been perfect; it would have been so perfect if only Castiel hadn't fucked up, again.

The shame bubbles inside him like a whirlpool, and every time Dean doesn't look at him, every time Dean forces a smile that they both know isn't real, Castiel feels more and more like that kid who could never make his brother proud.

The next hour drags, and Castiel wants to cry by the time Dean finally drops him off home. After barely speaking other than to ask about referencing, Dean made sure it keep at least a meter distance between them the whole time, and he even managed to slip in a comment about the hot girl who works in the student union bar. Castiel tries to spark a conversation about music, but Dean shrugs it off. So when Castiel gets out the car at the end of an awkward twenty minute silence, he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget that this day ever existed.

"Dean..." He says softly, trying to force out the apology he's been preparing in his head for the past half hour. He's standing beside the car, bending down to look at Dean through the window. Dean is staring straight ahead, sighing a little.

"Don't, Cas." He says simply, his fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly. "I said I'm sorry, okay. I don't know why I said those things and it won't happen again." He gives Castiel one last disappointed look before driving away. Castiel stares at the road, at the back of Dean's car, he watches it until it turns at the end of his street and disappears, leaving behind an empty shell of what should have been a happy memory.