The door slid shut behind Castiel, and Dean sank onto his bed, looking down at his hands. He had enjoyed that way more than he'd thought he would. His heart was racing, his jeans were swollen, and all he could see was Castiel's eyes staring into his soul when he finally said he loved him. A shiver slid through him. His hands burned with the impression of Cas's jeans, and his body was still in a dull ache after being off his feet for an entire week. Even though he'd hardly put anything but arm strength into it he was still feeling the press of weariness as it beckoned him to the bed. He obliged it, and lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, letting his body calm down.

He'd never felt this much of anything for anybody but his family. Doing that to Castiel – for him – had been like overcoming an obstacle inside both of them. He couldn't explain it. He saw the change in Cas's eyes from when he begged for it and after he was cleaned up, and knew it had… saved him… somehow. He felt weird even thinking that let alone telling anybody else, but it was true. Giving Castiel a touch that was pure was what it had been. Dean was not trying to hurt him or take advantage or do anything for his own pleasure. Not that seeing Cas so horny wasn't pleasurable, but he wasn't doing it for himself. Dean had done it for Cas. And he'd do more for him when he could, that's what mattered. He truly loved him.

There was 'in love,' between flirting couples, and 'loving,' which was a bond. A connection. Something that withstood everything else. Even hurt. Even memories. It wasn't light and silly and sexy. It was dark. Strong. Unbreakable strength. Love is not having choice taken from you; it is waking up day after day, through bad and worse, and still choosing your lover over everything and everyone else.

That 'I love you,' Cas gave him had not been earned until now. Maybe it had been his wariness; he was afraid of being different, of loving a guy. But seeing Cas so vulnerable, so trusting… he'd known he had to step up and be a man about it. He had to accept it. And he did. Castiel bawled his eyes out over him when he was hurt, he was there every step of the way, he accepted him in every broken way he was. It was unfair to still hold fear of loving him in his heart when he knew it was unfounded. It had been time for Dean to get over himself and be there for him. He'd decided he was done being afraid, done being squeamish. He wanted Cas in every sense of the word and wasn't afraid of it anymore.

He didn't feel up to working on his homework. So, Dean slept, drifting in and out of a dreamless slumber that fed and soothed his mind. He'd never felt so light hearted and so heavy at the same time. Thoughts of Castiel lulled behind his eyelids, making his head spin and his heart ache. The crinkle of his eyes when he smiled. His eyes widening with innocence. The curve of his chest to his pelvis when he lay down, Adams apple bobbing nervously, lips parted in anticipation. Dean had no trouble keeping up his hard-on. He palmed it every now and then to keep it rigid, biting his lip as he pictured Cas: asleep naked in his bed, gently grinding the mattress in his sleep as he dreamt about fucking. He replayed it over and over in his head while he slipped in and out of sleep. It was a healing process.

Then a sharp knock came to the door. It roused Dean from his nice horny lull. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up sluggishly and squinted at the floor. "Who's there?" He grunted curiously, getting up.

"The hall RA. Ricky." Came the dark reply.

Dude sounded mad. Dean tied a sweater over his boner and opened the door, squinting at the guy. He was an athletic type, with a skinny frame but a cocky air about him. He wasn't bad looking, with dirty blonde hair and dark eyes, but he was very serious and didn't look at all amused. "Anything I can help with?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually," Ricky replied, and Dean found his heart blackening under the piercing stare the guy was giving him. "I got complaints an hour ago of hearing sounds of distress in your room. Is everything cordial here? Are you having roommate discrepancies?"

Cordial? Discrepancies? What was this guy, a damn prick? Dean shook his head, making a casually surprised expression as he tried to think about it. "No, I…" He trailed off. His face deadpanned. Cas. He'd made Cas moan pretty raunchy like an hour ago. Flashes of memories of Cas under his hands made his boner quiver, but he looked at Ricky in shock. From an outside stand point, two straight guys in a room with moaning meant someone was either dying or being killed. "Oh," was all he could manage to blurt, which did not help his situation.

Ricky pushed passed him into the room, obviously unhappy with that answer. Dean stepped back, still in shock, and watched as he nosed around the room for signs of a struggle. Besides messy beds there was nothing. "Care to explain, Winchester?" Ricky asked sharply, crossing his arms as he turned to him. "And I want the truth." The judgment in his eyes was almost physically manifesting. He was obviously trying to decipher if any violence had taken place – such as Cas being strangled to death – and that was plausible, with the sounds he'd been making. So Dean wasn't too put off by the guy. He was just being an RA. Even if it meant snooping and being quick to judge. At least he didn't notice the cum-stained clothes in the laundry basket.

What was he going to say? Sorry, me and my boyfriend were fucking? No way. Dean was terrified of the idea alone. Besides, it was embarrassing. His sex life was no one's business, especially when it was as obscure as Dean's. How did they even treat gay roommates here? Would they be separated? Reprimanded? As stupid as all that sounded, he wasn't willing to take the risk with the truth this time. He held out his hands. "Sorry, man – we were both having a rough day. I just got out of the hospital after a car crash left me a week in a half-coma, and Castiel was in the car with me when it happened, so we're both pretty stressed. We just an argument about something really stupid," he lied smoothly, "He's fine. We're fine. He left for work right afterwards, no hard feelings."

Ricky looked half relieved, half wary. The soft worry in his eyes reminded Dean that this kid was responsible for him, and a lot of other guys, and that he was probably a really nice guy when he wasn't accusing you of murder. He dropped his hard-ass stance, but remained tense. "I'm glad to hear you're both recovered after the accident. We heard it was pretty bad." He eyed Dean. "You didn't lay a hand on him?" He pressed. "My reports were pretty clear it was only him they heard in distress."

Dean reigned in perfect control over his face, keeping it even, while inside he was cracking up. I put hands all over that boy, he thought in a deep, gravely tone, his mind in the gutter. And I'd do it again and again. "I swear. I just had a bit of a thing. He just sat back and tried to chill me out." He shrugged, acting now. "It's just a pain in the ass, you know? I was out for a week. For a long time a piece of paper could knock me over. I'm still really tired all the time, I guess I just snapped."

His weary tone convinced Ricky, who stiff demeanor slid off like an itchy coat. His bony shoulders slouched casually, and his eyes even lost their sharp edge. He bobbed his head and stepped up to Dean and put a hand on his shoulder. He was pretty tall. "Don't worry, bro. You'll be running laps around him in no time. A few cheeseburgers and some sleep will do you wonders." He flashed Dean a sheepish smile, and for the first time he looked very young. "If you ever need anything, I'm at the end of the hall, right before the door, ok? Don't ever let it come down to blows between friends. You'll both get kicked out, and it'll just be a big mess." Blows? Big mess? Oh my God-

Dean couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, bending over and holding his gut. Ricky drew his hand back in surprise. His dark eyes blinked. "Dude," Dean cackled, "that sounded so wrong!" He blurted. He didn't even care about the consequences anymore, that was too fucking funny.

To his immense relief, Ricky burst out laughing too. He rubbed his face. "Dammmit, Winchester," he laughed. "I was trying to be serious, too! Damn. Fuck you!" He joked, pushing his shoulder, and Dean just tried to compose his guffaws. I would, but I'm taken! He thought with unbridled hilarity. Being 'gay' had way more comedic perks than he'd thought.

"Just take care of yourself, ok man?" Ricky chuckled as he walked out, and Dean just nodded, unable to form real words. When the door shut behind the RA, Dean dissolved into childish giggles, slapping his knee. If only he was in on the joke – man, if he had only known. Ricky would've seriously broke a rib laughing at himself.

I'm trying to get into Dean's humor a bit more.

I'm so sorry.