I'm sorry this chapter is pretty short, and it bounces around quite a bit, but I really just wanted to wrap up this initial part so I could get on with whatever plot I decide to follow for this. I'd love to keep it just fluff, but seriously, I can only write so much of it.

Don't worry, though. It's not like this is going to turn into angst-central here (at least I hope not)

More at the end :)

Castiel actually took the jacket off this time before he collapsed into his bed, though it didn't stray far, only distancing itself from Castiel by the width of his bed. He had tossed it there before changing into his pyjamas, forgoing the shirt this time. He wouldn't need it. He was already flushed hot from his day out with Dean. He flopped down on his bed, and crossed his fingers over his belly, thumbs drumming a slow, sporadic beat as he stared at the ceiling.

Seriously, what the fuck happened? He had planned to study today, not sleep until noon and go out with Dean. He glanced over the edge of his bed to his desk, where his book-bag was discarded on the floor, a few papers and pens spilled out from earlier. So much for that.

But it wasn't all bad, really. His eyes drifted to the jacket beside him. Surprise had flooded him when Dean hadn't even requested it back, yet it filled him with a… a feeling. Not love, god no. He's known the guy for two fucking days. But it wasn't just a friendship sort of feeling. It was new, and Castiel really didn't care. People felt things for other people all the time, and romantic ones are no different, even if the so called "feelings" have developed over a 48 hour period.

That isn't wrong, right? Right. That isn't out of the ordinary. That isn't anything strange. It is perfectly normal. It's not like it's bothering him.

Yes it is.

"I have a crush on a fucking rockstar."

"You alright si- Dean," James corrected himself glancing back at the singer as they neared the hotel. Dean remained quiet, lost in his thoughts, though James didn't give up.

"Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean Winchester. Dean… Sir."

"Don't call me sir..."

James rolled his eyes. "You've been sitting back there quietly."

"And?" Dean questioned, raising an eyebrow as he caught the other's gaze in the mirror.

"You never sit quietly… You rarely sit."

Dean just rolled his eyes, breaking their gaze to look back out the window. "Why lay down? We're almost to the hotel."

James snorted. "You sound love-sick."

"I'm not in love."

"Never said you were. You just sound like you are."

"I'm not."

They had arrived at the hotel, and James parked, unsnapping his seatbelt to look back at Dean. "Once again, I never said you are. you're just acting like you are." Dean quirked an eyebrow once again, and the driver elaborated. "You're acting all mopey, and you're quiet, and you were so energetic and excited earlier. You were happy. All I'm saying is, this guy is making a mega impact on you already, and you've know him for, what, a day?"

"Two," Dean murmured, slipping out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

x

A few minutes later found Dean laying half-naked on his bed, only a pair of boxers gracing his body. He was flipping a pick between his fingers, watching the rounded triangle glide in a repetitive loop.

James had a point. Dean was happy when Castiel was around, and that terrified the shit out of him. What was he going to do when he left? Was back on the road to finish his tour? He shook his head. What did it matter? Castiel wasn't anything to him. Just someone who he had a bit of a crush on. Nothing big. Nothing spectacular. Just a crush. He'd found other guys and girls to keep him company in whichever city he chose, and he'd continue to do so. He'd get over this.

But none of them had made him happy.

Happiness wasn't something that was required.

But it was enjoyable.

Not required.

Pleasant.

Useless.

Amaz-

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Dean murmured, bringing his free hand up to smack his head, his fingers still deftly flipping the pick.

Castiel was nothing to him. Just a short fling. Not to mention it's only been, what, two days? Less than? He hadn't even kissed him yet! Castiel meant nothing to him. Nothing.

Except that wasn't true at all.

And what the fuck was that goodnight kiss? Was Dean really interested in him? Was he just doing this for shits and giggles? Was Castiel willing to deal with a fast-paced and rushed relationship in the span of two weeks? Could that even be considered a relationship? Just sex, then?

Castiel shook his head and closed his eyes, his thumbs no longer tapping a beat, instead just rubbing tiny circles, barely brushing his skin. He could never open himself up to sex that soon. Seriously. It had taken nearly a year before he had even considered it with his now-ex boyfriend, and even then, it was only because he had threatened to leave him, to destroy him in whatever way that he could.

Perks of dating an in-the-closet son of a CEO.

Castiel groaned a flipped himself over, shoving his face down into his pillow. He didn't stay there for long, however, seeing as he needed to breathe, and instead rolled onto his side, pulling Dean's jacket to him, wrapping himself around it. He stared down at the worn leather, and almost contemplated tossing it to the ground. He only had two weeks. Less than that, now. He couldn't get attached. He wouldn't get attached.

He fell asleep a short while later, the bundled up jacket tucked securely under his chin.

The pick in Dean's hand was still flipping, though his thoughts hadn't varied much at all.

You don't need him.

But you want him.

But you don't need him.

But you want him.

But you don't need him

But you do.

An aggravated groan ripped its way out of the singer, the pick finally stilling as it slipped from Dean's fingers.

He stared at the miniature object, resting at a strange angle on top of the duvet cover. It wasn't helping him at all.

With another angry growl, Dean flipped himself over, grabbing one of the over-stuffed pillows and tucking it to his chest. He pulled his legs up, and bent his knees, tucking the corner of the pillow between them.

He lay there in silence for a bit longer before blindly reaching behind himself to smack off the light, nuzzling his face into the pillow afterwards.

Dean fell asleep shortly after, though his dreams were just a fitful as his thoughts, and a certain blue-eyed man continued to appear throughout the night.

Woot! Once again, sorry for how short it was. I was out almost all day today, and I've got a bit of a cold/flu, so I'll be asleep most of tomorrow. Therefore, I wouldn't anticipate another chapter until late Monday night, or sometime Tuesday. :/

Also, I've just been assigned a huge project (fucking teachers who know how to email me), and I plan to update this every two days, like I said, but if I miss a day, or whatever, at least you'll know why. :)

You can find me on tumblr if you'd like (blackwings-blackimpala)

I do hope you're still enjoying this, and if you are or aren't let me know!

:)

(dudes I'm not that happy of a person I just really fucking like smiley faces okay)