Dean said nothing, his green eyes wide and shimmering with clashing nerves and fear. Castiel was waiting for an answer. They were pretty close right about now, but only because Dean wanted the comfort of his friend right now, while they sorted this out... Right? Those blue eyes weren't soaking him up, leaving nothing but traces in the air where he breathed. Particles of him struggling to fit together and resist what had already happened. Dean's lips parted, his entire world pitching and whirling like a merry-go-round. Everything else faded. The only refuge he had was the still, calm, disheveled figure beside him, his eyes like anchors in a tumbling sea.
Feeling himself nod ever so slightly, Dean watched the blue eyes flutter nervously, the lips drawing breath between them. They seemed to magnetize him. Suddenly Cas was closing the space between their nervous bodies. Dean's hand reached out, and was caught by another, another one still cupping the side of his shaved face. The scent of open fields and fresh air crashed over him. It swirled into his head and drowned his thoughts in the sweet lull of acceptance. Then the lips snared him just so. A warmth flooded through Dean's face and shot down his neck and spread to his entire body – a hot, bothered feeling he could hardly contain. Castiel's kiss was soft, and tasted like a fireplace seat in winter; like a surfboard in the waves of chaos, and the arms of a lover while your heart shattered. He felt like a hand reaching to pull you out of Hell. He felt like soft wings shielding you from the weather. Like a best friend giving you a taste of paradise before letting you leap headlong into a mistake.
There was nothing on Earth to describe what it felt like to have someone that wrapped around your heart squeeze your hand and push his thumb against your cheek and drink in the taste of your mouth. Dean just let himself sink into it. There was no argument he could find. No reasons to stop. It was heavenly, letting go, letting his feelings take him and toss him out into the harbor. There was something, though. He realized with a jolt that he was kissing his roommate, and that gave him probable cause to think about it more. Peeling his free hand off his knee, where it had been gripping so hard he thought he'd break something, he grasped Cas's wrist and drew back from his lips. Great regret screamed in his heart and pangs traveled down where they should not be traveling as he opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of the ocean.
Like a thunderclap, Dean felt an almost physical impact of sheer, unadulterated desire to touch, to hold close, to thread his own fingers through the tousled hair and give Cas another reason to be flushed and breathless. He looked away from the eyes without moving, his world still pitching.
"Dean," Cas's voice was so quiet, teetering on the edge of the precipice. He was searching the face before him for signs of anything at all. Shock, disgust… lust.
Dean withdrew from his touch, his look. He got up and stumbled to his own bed. The covers were thrown aside, and Dean plunged under them, vanishing. He had gotten himself away before he'd done anything, said anything, wrong. Too soon.
He shut his eyes and did not sleep. But he heard Cas discard his jeans, which made him a lot more bothered than he liked to mention. Then the sound of his footsteps across the carpet to turn off the light. Then the rustle of his bed as he climbed into it, slowly, lethargically, as if disheartened. Then there was no more noise.
The morning came quickly for both of them.