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Castiel wakes up to someone pounding on his dorm room window.
He groans and tries to cover his head under his pillow, hoping they’ll give up and go away. He knows they won’t, though. This has happened too many times for him to have any hope left. As a senior, his patience for the underclassmen has dried up completely due to this.
The single room he’d managed to snag this school year had at first been a blessing, but it had come with an awful caveat – being on the first floor, right next to the dorm building entrance scanner. Any drunk students who somehow managed to lock themselves out in the cold, unforgiving Minnesota winter would inevitably wake him up, begging to be let in.
As if agreeing with that, the person currently banging on his window does it louder.
Castiel growls, low and hostile, and turns his head to look at his alarm clock.
It’s four fifteen in the morning.
In a fit of uncoordinated rage, Castiel flings off his covers and stumbles out of bed, only pausing to snatch his keys off his desk before heading into the hallway.
He slams open the door. “Don’t you have-“ he starts to say, before he’s pushed out of the way by a very naked man.
“Jesus Christ I was freezing my balls out there!” the guy says, slurring a little, while Castiel’s brain is still trying to reboot. The naked man almost face-plants when his foot catches on the edge of the door mat, but he manages to catch himself in time with some flailing. Definitely intoxicated.
Castiel lets the door slam shut and turns to look as the man hunches up besides the radiator, cupping his junk. That does nothing to cover his bare ass, which, in Castiel’s opinion, is nothing short of glorious. Even when blue-tinged.
Freckles, his brain supplies.
It takes Castiel a moment for his brain to catch up to the rest of the situation. “Can I ask why you’re naked and banging at my window at four o’ clock in the morning?” Castiel asks, trying to tear his gaze away from that ass.
“Thought it was just’a bet. Y’know, twenty bucks says you can’t streak in this weather, and then those douchebags took my clothes!” Indignant, the guy gestures with an arm and turns around, awkwardly cupping himself. The front is just as good as the back until Castiel’s eyes make it to his face.
Castiel feels his own expression freeze in place. For a second, he thinks he should still be in bed, asleep, suffering from a horrible nightmare.
Dean sizes him up slow, grinning, mistaking his reaction. “Why, hello there. What’s your name?”
It’s shocking how much burning hatred can wake a person up completely. Dean doesn’t seem to remember him, but oh boy, Castiel can make up for it. He feels his lip curl.
“None of your business.”
Even drunk, Dean can sense the change in tone. He holds up the hand not currently cupping his junk in a peaceable gesture before shivering and tucking his arm in close. “Whoa, alright, jeez. You’re a grumpy Gus in the mornings, huh?”
Castiel hopes the glare he sends Dean’s way can strip paint.
Unfortunately, the door to his room is now behind Dean, so when Castiel tries to brush past him, Dean follows the movement, walking backwards to keep in front of him. “Hey, I’m sorry I woke you up,” he says with a bashful grin. “Thanks for letting me in - d'you mind if I borrow some clothes or something? Pretty worried about losing some extrem- extremities here-“
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that beforehand. Might’ve saved you the trouble.” Castiel snaps, opening his door. There’s a few moments of confusion as Dean tries to follow him into his room, and Castiel blocks him and tries to close the door on him.
“Hey-!“ Dean manages to get a bare foot wedged in between the door and its frame, yelping when it stops the door from closing all the way.
Though it’s tempting, Castiel can’t bring himself to do any serious physical harm, but he grapples with Dean as he tries to open the door wider.
“The hell, man?” Dean’s voice has gone sharp with annoyance. “Not joking about the hypothermia! What’d I ever do to you?”
Castiel laughs in disbelief. “What, don’t recognize me, Dean?”
Dean stops after a second, blinking at him through the crack in the door. “…Do I know you?”
“Why would you? I’m just a rich brat you met at a bar who doesn’t have the common sense to realize when he’s being conned out of his lunch money.” He hates the sudden wobble in his voice, but it’s worth it to see the horrified recognition forming in Dean’s face. “Guess you always have an ulterior motive when you flirt, huh?”
He wants to enjoy the look of complete shock on Dean’s face, but the reminder of the worst night of his life makes his insides roil instead.
“I’d invite you in, but I want to keep the valuables I have, so. Move. Your. Foot.”
After a moment, Dean moves his foot out of the doorway without a word.
Castiel slams the door closed. Makes sure he locks the door as loud as he can, heart beating hard in his chest.
It takes a few minutes for the adrenaline brought on by anger to fade until he can think clearly again. Castiel is still just standing by his door, too upset to do anything else. It’s snowing again, fat white flakes drifting outside his window. Even in his own clothes, the room is cold, heat leeching out of the building from the sub-zero temperatures outside.
He hasn’t heard any distant knocking from the hallway. Frowning, he looks through the peephole on his door only to see Dean huddled up by the radiator by the door, head bent low. He’s visibly shivering even from this distance.
Goddammit.
“Goddammit-” Castiel snarls, and stalks to his dresser to rip out the warmest clothes he doesn’t mind ever seeing again.
He balls the clothes up, rushing back to unlock and throw open his door before he has second thoughts.
Dean looks up in surprise when Castiel comes out of his room. “I’m-“
“Go to hell!” Cas sneers, and pelts the clothes right into Dean’s face.
This time, when Castiel retreats and locks his door behind him, he finds his earbuds and blasts the loudest music he can stand for a couple hours, until he’s sure Dean has left.
Several days later, a knock on his door makes him look up from his homework.
“Come in!” he calls, thinking it’s Charlie or Gabe.
When no one enters, Castiel frowns and gets up from his desk. When he opens the door, no one is there. He looks down the hallway and then towards the entrance, the door just sliding shut, flakes of snow jumping in the air flow.
He looks down when his foot hits something, only to find a folded pile of his own clothes sitting in front of his door. There’s an envelope on top with his name in big blocky letters on the front.
CASTIEL
After a moment Castiel picks it up and opens it. He closes it as soon as he sees the green edges of the bills filling the envelope.
There’s a minute where he eyes the entrance, silent, but then Castiel picks up his clothes and goes back into his room.
He keeps the envelope.