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Castiel softly hummed as he walked down the dorm hallway. He checked his phone. Only 2 minutes, he sighed. He had been editing his final essay when he looked up and realized his load of laundry should be ready to switch to the dryer. Powerwalking around the corner, he smiled as he thought about tonight. Clean sheet night was his favorite night of the week and tonight’s would be even better. He was finishing up one of his last major papers for his toughest class and he couldn’t wait to curl up in his bed, catching up on Netflix.
Pushing open the door, he froze. His sheets were piled on top of the washer.
“Damnit,” he groaned. It wasn’t the first time that someone had been too eager to wait five or ten minutes to use the washer or dryer but it still irritated Castiel. He hated the thought of strangers handling his laundry, especially the one time someone had moved the load with his boxers in it. With a shudder, Castiel grabbed his sheets and then a growl escaped him. Whatever assbutt had so desperately needed the washer had failed to notice the detergent spilled on top of the washer before they so conveniently threw Cas’ clean, albeit wet, sheets up there.
Flipping the pile of wet sheets over, he fumed as he saw dark blue detergent soaked into the soft gray fabric. He kicked the washer out of spite but winced as the pain ricocheted through his leg.
If only the washers in the dorm didn’t automatically lock during their cycle… Cas smirked as another idea popped in his brain. With a glance beside the dryer, he began humming again as he grabbed one of the chairs beside the deep utility sink, opened his Kindle app and settled in to wait.
“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Dean hissed as he flew around his room. His printer had jammed instead of spitting out his resume and cover letter so now he was five minutes late moving his laundry to the dryer. He kept checking the time, trying to count out exactly how many minutes he would have to dry his clothes before he had to be in Baby, driving across town.
I never should have listened to Benny and Victor, he thought. The game plan had been to do his laundry Thursday night, get a good night’s sleep and have all morning to prepare for this interview. Dean had been ecstatic when Singer-Harvelle Engineering had emailed him asking if he was able to come in Friday at 1 for an interview. His teachers had constantly stressed how important internships were for their futures and Singer-Harvelle was one of the best companies in town.
Instead of his perfect plan, Dean had let Benny and Victor talk him into attending Vic’s frat party celebrating the end of the fall semester. He had promised himself that he would only stay for two hours max. But then, jello shots happened.
The next thing Dean knew, it was 10:30 on Friday morning and he didn’t have any clean dress clothes. He only had two hours to wash and dry his clothes, shower and prepare for the interview.
He flung open the laundry room door and panic set in when he saw the washer was still going. Did I remember the time wrong? But then he focused on the number of minutes left and his brow furrowed at the 30 shown.
“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself.
Eyes darting around the room, past the dark-haired guy with his head bent over his phone, he stopped dead when he saw his wet clothes on the floor. Next to the dryer. In the dirtiest, dustiest area of the laundry room, coated in at least a semester’s worth of lint, hair and god knows what else.
Slowly, he turned to the dark-haired guy sitting beside the sink.
“Did you see who did this?” Dean said, straining to keep his voice steady.
“Hmm?” the guy said, not even looking up.
“Dude, someone threw my clothes on the floor. Did you see who did it?” Dean spat out.
“Oh sorry, I needed the washer, so I threw your clothes toward the dryer,” the guy said. “I guess I missed.”
“What the fuck dude?” Dean yelled. “What is wrong with you?!”
“I’m guessing the same thing as you since you threw my clean clothes in a pool of detergent.” Cool blue eyes stared at Dean; no trace of emotion visible.
Fed up, Dean kicked the dryer. “Dude I don’t have time for this! Look,” he dragged his hand through his short hair angrily, “I’m sorry for messing up your stuff. I just really needed the washer.”
One eyebrow raised, the only change to the guy’s face. “We all need washers. That doesn’t mean that we should be careless with other people’s things.”
Frustration flared up and Dean huffed. He paused, taking in a deep breath. True, this dude was right, but Dean really didn’t have time for all of this, no matter how hot the guy was. “Normally I don’t mess with other people’s laundry. I have a huge interview today and no clean dress clothes. I had just enough time to wash and dry some before my interview.” He paused, staring at the wet, dirty clothes still balled up in the corner. “Well, I did have enough time. Now I’m going to show up to this interview in jeans.” Slowly, Dean sunk to the floor, the stress overwhelming him. It was harder to pull air into his lungs and the room swam in front of him.
Suddenly, all he could see was blue.
“Hey,” the guy mumbled. His eyes, Dean thought, they’re so blue.
“Hey, the guy repeated again, hands gripping Dean’s shoulders. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? You’re having a panic attack. Can you breathe in when I do?”
Dean tried to focus on what the stranger was saying. Breathing. He wanted him to follow a breathing pattern. Slowly, Dean nodded.
“Good,” the guy smiled slightly.
For a few minutes, the only sound in the laundry room was slow breathing and the swish of the rinse cycle.
“Thanks,” Dean rasped out. “I’ve never had that happen to me before.”
The guy chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience. Now, I may have a solution for your clothing problem. You’re about my size. I have a pair of dress pants that mom bought a size too big. They should you fairly well. I also have a few looser-fitting dress shirts. Want to see if they work?”
A smile crossed Dean’s face. “There’s only one thing I need first.”
Eyebrows crumpled in confusion and the guy tilted his head in confusion adorably. “What’s that?”
Dean smirked. “Well I figure I should probably know the name of the guy whose clothes I’ll be wearing.”
Laughter bubbled out of the guy and Dean’s heart stopped. If he thought confusion was adorable, it had nothing on the sheer joy and amusement on the guy’s face. Dean made a promise to himself right then and there to try to always keep a smile on the guy’s face.
“I’m Castiel. And you are?” He held out a hand out to Dean.
“Dean.” He grabbed Castiel’s hand and shook it, holding on a moment longer than necessary.
Pink tinged the top of Castiel’s ears before he turned to leave the laundry room. “Aren’t you a time crunch?”
“Shit!” Dean yelped, glancing at his watch to see he only had 15 minutes before he needed to leave.
“Come on, Dean,” Cas murmured. “And who knows? If you play your cards right, you might come back from your interview to clean clothes.”
Dean turned to face Cas, a dazzling smile on his face. “Do that Cas and I’ll owe you for real. Start thinking of how I should repay you.” He winked as he held the door open.
Castiel flushed. He wasn’t quite sure what he had gotten into but never in his wildest dreams did he think throwing a stranger’s laundry on the floor would end up like this.