Cas was up and dressed and gone before Dean woke. He rolled over to see the room empty and sighed heavily, guilt and restless sleep weighing on his shoulders. The bags under his eyes were remnants of a chaotic mind. He dressed sluggishly and threw his things together for class, flopping back onto an unmade bed to tie on his boots. Behind him the door shut loudly and he stalked off to class. A black cloud hung over him all day. He ate nothing, said nothing, and looked at no one. Every class was drowned out by the endless thundering of thoughts drenching him. The why's and how's and escape routes from this he knew would never be used. He went through stages of denial, anger, resentment, bitterness, and then depression hit when lunch rolled around.
With his next class half an hour away, Dean went out into the chilling air and threw his backpack under a tree, sinking down beside it. The sidewalks of the campus threaded through bright green grass and old, sturdy oaks - but by the stairs headed towards the dorms across the lake, was a maple sitting along on the hill. There were only two sidewalks this way. One a ways away leading horizontally to the library, and one far to his right, heading to the stairs. Out before him thick bushes dotted the shore of the body of water stretching half the length of the campus. Ducks squabbled by the fountain in the center, geese quietly drifting along the still water at the far end.
Dean leaned his arms on his bent knees. Maybe it was deep enough to drown himself in. The maple leaves above him scattered his broad shoulders with broken sunshine. The air felt still and foreboding. Winter was coming early, and it was supposed to last much longer as well.
On his way to their dorm building, Dean spotted a familiar trench coat, messenger bag hefted on one shoulder and books clutched in his arms. Castiel. His dark head was downcast, eyes on the sidewalk as he trudged towards a tainted sanctuary. His classes ended at noon. Dean only had art next. But he knew it would foul his mood even further. Snatching his bag, he started towards the sidewalk, pounding concrete as he descended the stairs. Something in him had finally set into place. He had to fix this.
By the time he got back to the room, Cas had already been there ten minutes. Dean unlocked the door and pushed his way inside. Castiel, who had been sitting in his chair, staring at his empty desk, jumped out of his skin and whipped his head up to see who was breaking in while Dean was in class. But, it happened to be Dean, and that made him flush with shame and look away again.
"I-I thought you would be in class," Cas stammered.
Without a word, Dean threw his backpack aside, eyes steely, and grabbed Cas's shoulder, making him look up at him. Their eyes met, Cas's startled blues and Dean's unreadable hazel. Dean dragged Cas to his feet and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," he forced, the emotion closing up his throat. He got only stiff shoulders and nervous breath against his neck. "Cas," he repeated. "I was so angry with myself. I… I only made everything worse. I didn't want to do that to you. I really didn't. I couldn't help myself."
Warm palms rubbed his back, arms pressing his sides. "It's ok, Dean," Cas's kind words soothed the shakiness in him. "It's all right. I'm all right."
"I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean groaned, drawing back and looking him in the eye. "I'd never felt anything like that kiss in my life, I…" He bit his tongue in anger at himself.
"I shouldn't have pushed it on you. You weren't ready." Castiel apologized sincerely.
Grabbing his upper arms, Dean made him look at him. "No, you needed to," he argued, making Cas's eyes round with surprise. "I needed to know. And so did you. I just… I pulled an asshole move, because I… I really let you in. I was so afraid of it, that it made me mad. I was furious that you had stripped me down so easy and put me all over paper like I was something easy to critique. I was furious that after hardly knowing you, you seemed to fit so perfectly into my head. I…" He drew back, hands held out as if wanted to touch but not daring. "My defense against people is usually so… perfect."
"If I didn't love you as a human being, I could never have deciphered you as an artist," Castiel said quietly, and the tension between them softened into something a lot warmer.
In his knees Dean felt a weakness growing. Every sound off Castiel's tongue lassoed him in and yanked tight around his heart. Dean was sure that Cas felt the same jolt of desire whenever their gazes touched; it was a rolling simmer now, a living thing under his skin, his body thrumming with it as it began to collect in pleasurable stabs in his groin. He swallowed. Their eyes made love.