Title: The New Neighbours

Words: 1120

Rating: T

Summary: AU Dean lives in a quiet fenced in community where everyone knew each other. When new neighbors move in across the street from him, Dean can't help but wonder who these two men are. Especially the intense blue eyed man who always read under a tree in front of the house.

Note: Sorry for the long delay. No Beta.

"Thanks for the burger?!" Dean chastised himself as he jogged across the street to his home. "Thanks for the burger?! I can't believe…"

You kissed a guy… You literally kissed Castiel on the lips and then ran for it like your arse was on fire. You are one hell of a bastard, Dean Winchester. You are despicable and – and you kissed Castiel!

Dean entered his home, slamming the door behind him and going straight to the refrigerator to get a beer. He downed in one, throwing his head back and letting the liquid make its way into his churning stomach. Once that was done, he downed another and another and another until the whole ordeal was replaced by a need. A need that, in a drunken state, was so urgent he just had to have.

He needed to kiss Castiel again and make sure that, whatever had happened in the man's kitchen, was not his fault and that he, a widow and completely straight man, did not in the least enjoy the blue eyed man's lips on his. He didn't still feel the chapped skin and warmth it hid from him between two wet…. a loud noise coming from the living room. He stood up, not sure how he'd gotten on the kitchen floor and, staggering, made his way to the living room.

Dean, seeing nothing in the room, assumed the noise was coming from the front door and quickly opened it widely. He staggered back, surprised for a moment at who was knocking at his door.

"C-Castiel," Dean slurred, leaning against the door. "W-what brings you-you bye bye?"

"Bye… bye?" Castiel repeated slowly. He took a step inside but was pushed back by a strong hand, Dean's. Castiel stared at him, noting the way he was tilting to the side as if the door held him upright and concluded that Dean' was drunk. "I'll come back when you're sober."

"N-no! Sta-stay, Cas, stay!" Castiel was pulled in before he could move away.

It had taken Castiel two hours before he got the nerve to get out of his kitchen, take his hand from his lips and head on over to Dean's place. The kiss had surprised him to say the least and the hurtful part came in when Dean left as if he didn't, he was going to die.

"You can do it, Castiel," he told himself as he crossed the street. "Its just Dean. Your new neighbour who happened to have kissed you and who recently lost his wife. Nothing to worry about… he has a gun collection!" Before Castiel could back down, he knocked on the door and waited. He counted to ten and was about to turn and run for it when the door swung open.

Dean was drunk. No, he was beyond drunk and had just about replaced his blood with beer and whiskey from the smell that surrounded him. Castiel pulled back, trying not to breathe in the toxic drunk odour.

When Dean pulled him into the house, Castiel blinked repeatedly as he did when he was confused. The place was spotless up until you went towards the kitchen and then the beer cans began to scatter the floor a few drops of their contents spooling around them. It was like a beer fest had happened in Dean's kitchen.

"Drinking yourself into oblivion, I see," Castiel commented turning around to face a tilting Dean. He reached out to steady the drunken man only to have his hands slapped away.

"I don't need help."

"You're not as drunk as you appear, Dean," he pointed out with narrowed eyes. "You are no longer slurring your words."

"When you drink as much as I do," Dean replied. "Some of it never makes it into the … red stuff."

"Eloquent," Castiel mused. "I think I should come back tomorrow when you're not drunk at all."

He left before Dean could protest, moving faster than he knew he was capable of. All the while thinking that maybe Dean shouldn't be alone tonight. That maybe – just maybe – he should turn right back around and stay with Dean. But he didn't have the nerve. Castiel sighed as he reached his house, turning around to look at Dean's place before going inside.

Castiel looked around his college campus and rubbed his face. He had an assignment due in less than two weeks and he had written nothing. He had to write a series of small 'blurbs' or 'drabbles' through the point of view of a lover. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. In his short and boring life, not once has Castiel been a lover. The only relationships he's ever had are familial. The assignment had sounded easy at first, two weeks later and he's yet to write anything down.

He was leaning on a large tree, sitting cross-legged at the field that over looked the large campus. Trees in all different shapes and sizes scatter about the fields and buildings; people bustle around laughing and smiling without a care in the world and yet he can't find an ounce of inspiration. Writing was difficult; he knew that from the start, it was one of the reasons why he loved it so much. He'd never had much difficulty writing; the problem was finishing a story.

Now, not only could he not get inspiration but also he couldn't even just write for the hell of it. It was as if his brain was… empty.

He looked around again his eyes connecting on a familiar shape coming towards him and immediately something came to mind. Before it could flow away into the wind, he pulled out his notepad and a pen and wrote:

I see him walking by and my heart stops. His long strides take him across campus in a blink of an eye even though he probably not in a hurry. He looks around, eyes casually looking at the buildings and passing faces, and our eyes connect. Even from away I can see a ghost smile graze his thin lips. I look away first, having been caught staring. When I look back, he's gone. Perhaps he's gone into one of the building or he's blended in with the rest of the people circling the campus. All I know is that we shared a moment, however minor it may have been, and that ghost of a smile will last me until the next time…

Not his best work but a good first draft. By the time he looked up, his eyes are at crotch level with someone standing in front of him. He closed them, preparing himself for what was to come, for a moment and then looked up.

"Dean, how can I help you?"