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Dean is banging on the door again. At least, he assumes it’s Dean. But really, there’s nobody else who would bother him while he’s got his “studying, do not disturb” sign up on the door.
Though he’d be lying if he said Dean’s presence is truly a bother anymore.
By the time he’s made it to the door, Dean is singing, loud and obnoxious, knocking along to the beat. Castiel knows he can actually sing very well, having caught him singing to himself in the kitchen more than once, but that’s not what he’s going for here. He’s trying to embarrass Castiel into opening the door before the neighbors start investigating.
So, with a sigh, he does.
“Heya, Cas! Good morning!”
Castiel squints back at him. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
Dean grins. “Eh, whatever. It’s still morning somewhere.”
Castiel has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling at that and encouraging Dean. He can’t let himself be distracted today. He has to finally start putting his foot down.
“Dean, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I’m very busy right now. I can’t do this today. I’m right in the middle of a paper, and it’s due -”
Dean holds up a bag of cookies and shakes it gently. “Honey oatmeal,” he says in a singsong voice. “Your favorite.”
Damn him. “…fine, come in.”
Dean smirks in triumph and slips in past Castiel, heading straight back to the kitchen. Castiel shuts the door with a sigh and trails after him.
“Jesus, Cas, I told you to go grocery shopping. This is fucking tragic.”
"I haven’t had time,” Castiel says faintly, turning the corner to find Dean rifling through his cupboards. “I…the cookies?”
“Nope, you’re gonna eat some real food first. Cookies are for dessert.”
“Dean, I don’t have time…”
"You know, I don’t think your thesis is gonna finish itself once you’ve died of starvation. You gotta eat, Cas.”
“But…”
“Start chopping these onions.”
Castiel sighs, accepting the knife and getting to work while Dean turns to hunt through his fridge.
“I had onions?” He murmurs.
“I musta left them here when I made chili the other day.”
Castiel hums in acknowledgement, mouth watering at the memory. Dean grins at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking.
“We’ll go grocery shopping later,” he says. Castiel doesn’t bother to argue.
“Can we get more eggplant?” He says instead.
“Told you I could make it taste good,” Dean says smugly.
“Everything you cook is good. I’m very lucky to have you around,” Castiel says absently, focusing on not cutting his fingers off and blinking away the stinging in his eyes. When he finally looks up, Dean’s cheeks are red and he’s staring fixedly down at the carrots he’s peeling.
Castiel tries not to think too hard about it.
What they end up with is soup, salvaged from the few sad vegetables Castiel had lying around, some frozen chicken they found hiding behind a few half-empty gallons of ice cream and an old bag of rice. They curl up on his threadbare couch to eat. The soup is rich and warm, slightly buttery and deliciously filling.
Dean goes on a rant about what happened last night on his doctor show while they eat, again lamenting Castiel’s lack of a television. Castiel listens contentedly, finishing his soup and leaving the bowl on the floor, tucking his feet under him and closing his eyes, letting Dean’s warm voice wash over him.
He’s not aware of falling asleep until Dean is gently shaking him awake.
“Hey, c’mon,” he says softly. “You’re gonna kill me if I let you sleep all afternoon.”
Castiel hums. When he lazily blinks his eyes open, Dean is very, very close. All Castiel can see is freckles and those green, green eyes staring back into his. Dimly he’s aware that if he were a little more awake, more alert, he’d be panicking and backing away right now, getting a safe distance away before he does something stupid.
But he’s just tired enough that this still feels like a dream, and he finds himself leaning in closer. He just barely sees Dean’s eyes widening before he closes his own and presses his lips to Dean’s.
It’s another second before it hits him what he’s doing and he’s suddenly completely awake. Awake enough to realize Dean is frozen stiff next to him.
Castiel jerks back away from him. “I’m - Dean, I - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”
He scrambles off the couch and runs, finding himself leaning against his closed bedroom door a few seconds later.
What has he done? He’s ruined his friendship with the only person he hasn’t managed to drive away since he started grad school, that’s what. Dean isn’t going to want to be friends after this anymore, of course. He won’t come over to cook with Castiel, to talk to him for hours or to drag him out of the house. He won’t text him under his desk during class to complain about his professors or at three in the morning to complain about his homework. The realization sits heavy and sour in his stomach. He groans and buries his face in his hands.
“Cas,” Dean says from the other side of the door. Castiel’s not sure he hasn’t been talking this whole time, he’s been so lost in his own head. “C’mon, come out. Talk to me, Cas. It’s okay. And hey, you still gotta come out and eat your cookies.”
He sounds like he’s coaxing a wild animal. That’s probably what it seems like to him, anyway, after Castiel panicked and ran like a frightened deer.
“Please,” Dean says finally, so quiet Castiel almost doesn’t hear him. And really, in the end, Castiel can never deny him anything. So before he can talk himself out of it, Castiel turns around and opens the door slowly. Dean is waiting there, smiling softly at him.
Castiel looks down at his feet.
“I’m sorry, Dean, I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have…I mean, I know you don’t…you wouldn’t…”
Dean’s hands gently cup his cheeks and tilt his face up. He swipes his thumbs over Castiel’s cheeks gently, brushing away tears Castiel didn’t know he was shedding.
Then Dean leans in and they’re kissing again. He presses gentle kiss after kiss to Castiel’s lips, then wanders away to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. He kisses him on the mouth one last time before pulling away. His hands slip down from Castiel’s face to rest on the small of his back as he pulls Castiel closer to him.
“See? It’s okay, Cas,” he whispers. “Just surprised me.”
Castiel can’t do anything but stare at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He can’t make sense of it. He can’t process what’s happening. All he’s aware of is that Dean is so warm, and he smells so good and Castiel is wrapped up in his arms and he never wants him to let go.
“Now come have a cookie before we go grocery shopping,” Dean says. All Castiel can do is nod and let Dean lead him into the kitchen.
Dean cleaned while he was asleep, apparently. Their dishes are lined up in the drying rack, Castiel’s coffee mugs are hanging neatly from their pegs, and even the floor is swept.
Castiel is still dazed when Dean presses a cookie into his hand. “Dean, I don’t understand.”
Dean grins and shakes his head. “I’m in love with you, you dork. I thought you woulda figured that out by now.”
“Oh,” Castiel says faintly, blinking at him. He eats his cookie without really tasting it, and then Dean’s wrapping him in a coat and kissing him on the forehead and they’re holding hands as Dean leads him out the door, and Castiel stops him in the doorway, because he forgot to say it before and it’s suddenly very important that Dean knows.
“I’m in love with you too,” he says.
“Yeah, I know,” Dean says with a soft smile. “Was waiting for you to realize it. C’mon, I’ll buy you a coffee on the way.”
It isn’t until they’re walking into the store that Castiel realizes he hasn’t thought about his paper once since Dean showed up. He’s going to have to stay up all night working on it to catch up at this point.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Dean says. “We could stop by my place and I could bring my laptop over, maybe finally show you some Doctor Sexy after dinner? Charlie burned the first couple seasons on DVD for me.”
Castiel smiles and squeezes Dean’s hand. “That sounds wonderful.”
Oh well. The paper will still be there tomorrow, after all.