Sleep was heavy, languid, and cold this morning. The window was wide open – something Dean hadn't thought was possible – and Cas's side of the room was mostly unoccupied. Rolling onto his side, Dean squinted over at it. Cas's side was always a mess. He just didn't clean. His bed was a rumpled mess, his desk was a disaster area, and his clothes were strewn everywhere. A smile wormed its way onto his lips. It was pretty cute, seeing him hunched over his desk, turned away from the essay in front of him. The pencil clutched in his left hand hovered useless. His eyes were cast out the window, over the short road leading to the main campus, curling around the lake there. The morning sunlight bathed him in golden warmth. A cool, refreshing breeze drifted through the room.
Dean groaned as he stretched out and pushed sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. "It's Saturday, Cas. Why are you up?" He sat up and blinked over at the dark haired boy, who turned to him with muted surprise. His eyes filled with affection. It was strange, Dean thought, how often that had happened before – how often he'd missed it when Cas tried to cover up, turn away almost at once. That shy hesitation. The respect he used to reign in his feelings.
The blue-eyed look drifted over him now, taking in the mess of his hair, the slender legs having been formerly covered up by blankets, the curling smirk. Then a small sheepish smile took over. "I wanted to get this done early, so I have the rest of the day," he explained. "It's an essay, then Russian homework. It won't take long."
Nodding, Dean chuckled and covered his face with his hands, still drunk with sleep. Last night when Cas had gone to class he had walked around campus thinking. Wondering what had happened, why he was so feverish for his quiet roommate. Why he was suddenly into a guy. And he had concluded that it didn't matter. What he wanted – what he could have – he wanted to just take it, mold into it, let it be him. He wanted Castiel. Wanted him like he'd never really wanted a girl before. It didn't make them gay, it made them human. They were attracted without reason and it was mutual and that's how it was. That's it. No magic switch, no labels.
The acceptance of all his emotions and desires just overwhelmed him. He sank down beside the lake, and he let himself think about Cas. His hands, his eyes, his smile, his shoulders, his thighs. God, his thighs. Thinking about him that way was strange – foreign. But it was definitely not unenjoyable. He remembered every touch, ever palm he had pressed over Cas's body, and it made him want him all the more. He wanted to grab him and possess him with all he had and never let him go. He wanted to make him beg for more. He wanted to hear him say his name, again and again. Which made him incredibly horny. He ran back to the room and hid his ardor from the world, but he wasn't ashamed of it. Just ashamed of flaunting his tent in public.
He looked up now and saw Cas, and he didn't see just some gay guy crushing on him. All he saw, all he cared about, was how handsome he was. How much he needed him. How his warmth filled his head and his heart together and made him finally feel like he belonged here – at a damn school, of all places. Getting to his feet, he walked over to Cas's desk, and reached out. He slid his arms around his neck and pressed his nose into Cas's neck, and breathed him in.
"Dean," came a barely protesting sigh in reply, and the pencil dropped to the paper as Cas's hands slid over Dean's arms. Like he was memorizing him: the smell of him, the warmth of his hug, the weight of his arms around him; the touch of his lips against his throat.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I'll let you get back to work in a minute," came the murmured reply, sending chills down Cas's spine. Dean left a loving kiss in a trail along Cas's neck and jaw. Relaxing into it, Cas gave in, eyes sliding closed and body going slack as Dean gently turned his head to face him. The touch of Dean's affection alone was like a drug. Cas couldn't stop him, and didn't want to; he wanted it to fill him up forever. Dean knew it, too. He left his last kiss on Cas's lips. A sweet, savoring kiss, full of thinly concealed seduction. Then he hugged his neck tightly, just once more, before sliding away. He rested his hands on Cas's shoulders. "I'm going to go shower. Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be surprised if I can ever move again after that," Cas replied drunkenly.
Dean smiled to himself as he moved away, gathering shampoo and soap into a bag. "Good. Get some work done, champ." He nudged his shoulder before vanishing out the door, Cas's eyes following him longingly even as the door slid shut.
I am so sorry for the wait. I've been so swamped with crap. I'll update all my fanfictions ASAP as many times as I possibly can.
Also, my roomate is tone deaf. I've never been happier for headphones.