Work Text:
Beads of sweat ran down Dean’s neck until the collar of the tee he was wearing soaked them up. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time of the year for moving, especially with the temperature so high he felt like his body could evaporate if he stayed in the direct sun for too long, but when he had seen how relatively cheap the place was? He couldn’t just miss this opportunity. He had always wanted to live in a house, no matter how small – anything was better than his old apartment and the neighbour living above him that seemed to practise tap dancing twenty-four-seven.
Placing one last box on top of the kitchen counter, he let his shoulders drop. His muscles ached in all possible places and the tee clung to him uncomfortably. He should have taken it easy, moving in gradually instead of doing it all in one go, guns blazing. No, instead he thought that it would be a great idea to do multiple trips in one day. The old apartment wasn’t even that far away, but the boxes and furniture were heavy and mixed with the heat it left him absolutely exhausted. At least his friend, Benny, gave him a hand and was generous enough to use his van for all the possessions that wouldn’t fit in the Impala. Later he would have to buy Benny a six pack, or like, twelve of them to thank for the favour, because his stubborn friend didn’t want to take any money from him, not even for the gas.
The two of them gulped down cold lemonade Dean had bought on their way to his new house. With good luck, brother and one last squeeze to Dean’s shoulder, Benny was gone. Yeah, he needed luck – that was clear as day. Stacks of boxes were almost as tall as him and just the thought of unpacking any of them made Dean groan loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty room.
Longingly, he stared at the bathroom door. Technically, he could take a shower now, test if the water pressure was as good as it was described by the agent, but deep down he knew that if he did, he would get too relaxed to get anything else done. So, rubbing a hand down his face, he turned on his heel towards what was about to become his bedroom. The actual bed frame was in pieces, too big to fit in Benny’s van otherwise. Many things could wait until later, but putting his bed back together was on the priority list. Sure, he could just sleep on a mattress thrown onto the floor, but the chances of him being able to get up afterwards would be incredibly slim – been there, done that.
As he opened a small bag with screws, he let out a long exhale. He was nearing his mid-thirties now and although he was slowly achieving everything he had wanted, the thought of his close friends already having families made him feel like a failure, like he was missing out. He wouldn’t call himself a pessimist, or an optimist either – he just let the universe hit him with whatever it wanted, and that was okay, it was life. Still, as fun as being single was, he wouldn’t mind some company.
One could say that a few women from the college he worked at showed interest in him, but there was something about dating colleagues that didn’t sit well with him. It could turn messy quickly and he would rather keep his job – he liked his students too much to risk losing them too. Plus now that he actually bought a place instead of renting it, relocating to a different town wasn’t on the table.
Glancing at his jeans, he furrowed his eyebrows. Why the hell was he still wearing them? After unbuckling the belt, he let them fall to the ground. It was almost as if shackles got opened and he could move again. There was no strong breeze inside, but the draft between two open windows caressed his now bare legs and he tipped his head back, enjoying the sensation.
“I guess I have officially moved in now.” He mused, freeing his feet and kicking the jeans off completely. What better way to claim the place if not by parading around it in his underwear. Thick bushes and trees worked like a fence around the house, giving him all the privacy he needed. Honestly though, even if somebody managed to see his boxers he couldn’t care less right now.
With his bed built, he found a bag with the bedding, at least that was fairly light, and he made a quick job of getting it ready for the night. Hands resting on his hips, he admired his work. The bed whispered his name sweetly, tempting, but Dean left the room and shut the door behind him to mute the siren’s song. Then, he looked towards the bathroom again and pinched the bridge of his nose. As badly as he wanted a cold shower, he slowly began to change his mind, muscles craving hot water to help the pains and aches. It wasn’t the time for a reward just yet though – he still had some boxes with necessities to unpack. The rest could wait, with the whole weekend ahead of him to sort them out. Taking the Friday off felt strange, he had always avoided calling in sick even when he could barely walk, but it was just one day and Benny wasn’t available on any other date.
Rummaging through his belongings, time passed so quickly that the only reason why he realised it was already getting dark was his stomach begging for food. There was no strength left in him to cook so he ordered a pizza. The delivery guy arched an eyebrow at his lack of trousers, but Dean just shoved some extra bills into his hand and snatched the box like a starved raccoon. There was no sofa to sit on, the old one so roughed up that he had decided to look for a new one, and he devoured the food on the floor, his back against the wall, legs sprawled like he was a frog. Overall, he had done more than he had anticipated. Tired but content with the progress, he tapped his fingers against his thigh, taking in his work. Heaviness pulled at his limbs now that he had a chance to actually pause and after short consideration, he decided that it was finally time for the shower – he had more than deserved it, he just had to get up first.
Chirping birds and sun rays attacking him through bare windows woke him up. His neck was stiff and shoulders tense, making him want to let the bed swallow him so he wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos awaiting for him in the other rooms. Even his bedroom still looked like a battlefield, piles of belongings scattered all over the floor.
He shut his eyes, hoping to rest some more, but the sounds of the outside world being awake prevented him from doing so. Ah, fuck it. Pushing back the strands of hair that attempted to get in his eyes, he got up and shuffled his feet towards the kitchen. Thankfully, he had already unpacked the kettle, a couple of mugs and a jar with coffee making this task so much easier.
Grabbing some leftover pizza from the fridge, he took his breakfast outside to have it on his back porch. He sat down on a rocking chair that was just there, probably left by the previous owners, and chewed on one of the cold and soggy slices. It wasn’t the greatest combo, but it had to do. It kind of reminded him of the time he was a student himself, fueling his body with whatever was in arm’s reach. He just needed another fifteen minutes for the coffee to kick in, so he could be a functioning human being again.
The morning air still had some coolness to it and Dean soaked it up while he could, before the world turned into a giant frying pan again. The neighbourhood was quiet, most families probably enjoying their lie-ins during the early Saturday hours. He mindlessly pushed his feet against the floor, making the chair creak as it rocked gently. There was even a light breeze and he wished the rest of the day could remain the same. Mug by his nose, he inhaled the scent he loved and closed his eyes. It was so peaceful, he couldn’t believe his luck.
Until the peace got interrupted.
The music wasn’t that loud, but he could hear the beat clearly. It had to be one of his close neighbours and Dean abandoned his mug on the floor to lean against the balustrade. Scanning the surroundings, he was trying to find the source of the noise. To his left, through a gap between the bushes, he could see somebody else’s back porch, or perhaps something that resembled more of a bigger patio. A person was moving about and Dean shuffled closer to have a better look. His feet landed on sun warmed boards and he glanced down at his boxers – oh well, whatever.
Usually he wasn’t the spying type, but he couldn’t help himself, feeling this odd pull in his chest like he was a piece of metal near a magnet. It also provided a great distraction from the remaining work inside. While he waited for the person to come into clearer view, he drummed his fingers to the melody as rock played from the speaker. It was a song he recognised as one from his own playlist that his students had made for him – they had heard the tapes blasting from his car and decided to serve him something fresher. As it turned out, the definition of fresher ranged from the 90s to early 10s. All in all, the songs they had picked were a mix of angsty, hopeful and oddly relatable, so he liked to listen to the playlist whenever he had the time to take Baby for a longer drive.
Dean hummed along as Creed carried on singing about a man struggling with his faith, stuck in the prison his own actions created. He was in no way a believer himself, but the general message was universal enough. He leaned his elbows on the balustrade, fingers playing with his beard, when he finally had a good look at his new neighbour. At first, the sight made him bite his lip so as not to laugh. Now that looked like the textbook example of a man going through his middle life crisis.
The man in question was wearing a bucket hat, salt and pepper curls flicking upwards from underneath it. An unbuttoned and ridiculously oversized short sleeved shirt with red flames (matching the ones on the hat) swayed with his every move as he swept the boards. The cherry on top were just as oversized shorts, almost knee-long socks and slides.
The smile on Dean’s lips started to fall when he realised that he could possibly look similar in less than a decade. Would he though? Well, not that long now, he would find out soon enough.
That train of thought got stopped when the neighbour, Jim (he just looked like a Jim), began to pull off some… sick moves. Dean had no idea if Jim was a father, but the way he moved would make anybody believe so. Truth be told, Jim just seemed to enjoy his small private party (not so private anymore with Dean staring at him like this, all he needed now was a pair of binoculars), and he wished he was as carefree as the guy currently shaking his ass to Nickelback. And so what his own hips itched like they wanted to join in too.
This wasn’t the last time Dean spied on kept Jim company. In fact, he even moved the rocking chair as close as he could to the balustrade, facing Jim’s back patio that became more of a stage for Dean’s favourite show.
Each time Jim would surprise him with an even more bizarre outfit, just going about his day. Dean came to the conclusion that he had to blindly reach into his wardrobe to achieve such clashing results. The worst thing though? On anybody else it would look ridiculous and Jim? He kind of pulled it off.
One Friday afternoon, he was walking from a nearby store (after noticing that his step count was too low), when something occurred to him – he had never seen Jim leave or come back to the house. It was almost as if the guy bunkered himself inside. Then again, he had to work, right? Perhaps they had different schedules and as curious as Dean was, he hadn’t actually paid too much attention to his surroundings while he was getting ready for work or when he was buried elbows deep in grading essays and so on.
While it was true that Dean liked what he did, he made sure to keep that work and personal life balance. That became his reasoning behind as to why during the weekends he spent a lot of time on his porch, enjoying the presence of a guy that didn’t even know about keeping Dean company. People watching had never been his thing and Jim, well. Jim was just… different. Intriguing even. The most rational thing to do would have been taking a couple of beers to him to introduce himself and have an actual conversation. What would they talk about though? Hey, cool hat. By the way, I’m a fan of your moves. Yeah, no. Why would he do that when he could stay in the safety of his own property? Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt whatever Jim was doing – be it tidying up, gardening or grilling meat that got Dean’s mouth watering when the wind carried the delicious smell right into his face.
Grimacing, he just shoved another mouthful of the leftover cottage pie that he had been eating for three days in a row now. His phone chimed in his pocket and he put his plate to the side, on a small table by the chair (yeah, he had made sure that the porch was well equipped for this specific activity). He hummed whatever song was Jim’s today’s choice, his playlists sounding way too similar to the one his students made him, and read the message from Charlie. His eyes widened and he jumped out of his chair to go back inside. With her informing him about her soon arrival (better to ask for a forgiveness than for a permission, as she tended to say), Dean whipped his head around the kitchen and the living room. For the most part, he was organised and neat, but a basket of overflowing clothes that waited to be folded was sticking out like a sore thumb in the otherwise tidy room. He barely had the time to chuck the basket into his bedroom when there was a knock on his front door. He looked down at his clothes – the tee he was wearing was big, like really fucking big and he couldn’t even remember when he had purchased it. Crap, it seemed like Jim was already poisoning his brain. Not really caring about making the best impression, it was just Charlie after all, he headed to open the door.
“Going camping?” Charlie grinned, pushing a box into his hands.
The baked treat smelled heavenly and he pried the box open to have a peek. “Why?” He asked distractedly, licking his lips. Ah, apple pie. Perfect.
“What’s up with the tent?” She tugged on his tee and Dean swatted her hand away.
“Let me be, it’s comfy and it’s a Saturday.” He carried the pie to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Charlie strolled around, taking in Dean’s house, and her petite frame looked oddly small in comparison with the bulky wooden furniture. He hadn’t thrown a housewarming party or showed it to anybody really, despite his friends’ pleas, so it was her first time inside. There were still a few things he needed to do, even after living there for over a month now. Charlie arched her eyebrow at the big empty spot in the living room.
Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed a couple of mugs and plates. “I know, I know. I’m still looking.”
“I wouldn’t take you as a person who’d be so picky about their sofa.”
Dean frowned. “I’m not.” The kettle began to whistle and he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. The interrogation began. “I guess I just don’t spend that much time in the living room anyway, so I’m not bothered.”
“You’re not? Just saying, but it’d be convenient for when you have guests over.” Charlie gave him a pointed look and then busied herself with cutting two slices of the pie. “If not here, where do you spend your free time?”
Dean dipped his chin to his chest, heat creeping up his neck. “Outside.”
“Oh, mysterious. Let’s see the outside then.” She smiled mischievously and grabbed one of the mugs and a plate, heading towards the porch door like she already knew her way around the place. Then again, it was quite obvious what was where with the open plan and all.
“Sorry, I don’t have two chairs… yet. Take a seat.” Dean pointed to the rocking chair and Charlie happily complied. Dean himself leaned his back against the balustrade, facing her. Judging by the lack of music, it seemed like Jim had retreated back inside. Good, Charlie would ask less questions that way.
Dean put a piece of the pie in his mouth and moaned in appreciation. With his fork, he pointed to the plate in his hand. “Wow. This is just- Wow.” Mind blowing. The apple-cinnamon ratio was perfect.
Charlie nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I know, right? The best in town. I’d have treated you to it sooner, but we haven’t met much since you moved. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, you know what it’s like, moving and all. End of the semester and graduation is round the corner too and there’s just so much paperwork.” Partially it was the truth, but he knew what to say to deflect successfully, with the two of them having the same job. Charlie gave him a lopsided smile. “Oh, tell me about it.”
Just as he thought he was out of the woods, that familiar music began to play again. His fingers clutched the plate tighter and he did his best to seem like he wasn’t even acknowledging it.
Charlie got up from the chair and pressed herself by Dean. “Now that’s funky!”
“What is?” Dean asked, playing dumb, completely aware that she was talking about Jim’s outfit, because what else could it be? She grabbed his chin and forced his head in Jim’s direction. “And I thought I was the queen of mismatched clothes! That bucket hat is pretty cool. You know him? You must do, he’s literally like, right there.”
“Oh, that’s… that’s Jim.” The guy that probably didn’t even acknowledge Dean’s existence. Not even once had he caught Jim staring his way, completely lost in his own world. Maybe that was for the better.
“So you did make friends with the neighbours? That’s good!” Before Dean could clarify that Jim probably wasn’t even a Jim, Charlie squinted and lowered her voice.“Doesn’t he look kinda familiar?”
“Huh?” He looked back at Jim, focusing on his face. Now that she had mentioned it, yeah. For a while he had a feeling that he had seen the guy somewhere, before he moved. It was hard to tell though, with the distance and the layers of baggy clothes. That bucket hat was practically glued to his head, even on a cloudy day, and recently a pair of pink tinted glasses had completed the look too.
“I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ve definitely seen him somewhere before.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll come to me later when I least expect it.”
Not long after, Charlie left, but the question she had asked stayed in Dean’s head, driving him insane. Rocking on his chair, he bore a hole through the back of Jim’s head.
Where have I seen you?
For the next week that question followed him like a stray cat, meandering between his feet, constantly begging for attention. One day he almost stomped his way towards Jim’s door, but as he neared the driveway, he spun on his heel like a ballerina and headed towards the corner shop instead. What did he even want to do? Barge into the guy’s home, Dean, a complete stranger, and demand answers? That would have been one hell of a first impression. Still stuck in his head, he bumped into somebody smaller than him. A paper bag fell out of his hands, cane sugar going all over the floor. He looked at the mess beneath his feet and frowned. Sweet.
“I’m so-! Professor Dean?” A female voice asked and he looked up. Cocking his head, he recognised these blonde curls – she was one of his students.
“Oh. Hi, Claire.” Glancing around, he tried to find one of the workers so he could get a broom to clean up his mess. “What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Visiting my dad.”
Usually he was pretty good with remembering the parents of his students, but right now his mind was a bit too preoccupied with the sweet disaster. “Cool. Cool.” He scratched his cheek and then looked at her. “Sorry, I just need to…” He scanned the room once more until his eyes landed on a broom by a wall. “Aha!”
“Sorry, that was my bad.” She fished out a wallet out of her backpack. “I’ll pay for this.”
Dean waved his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
She shook her head and wordlessly left the money by the till. Then, she started heading towards the door. “Hey, professor?”
Dean stopped sweeping the floor. “Yeah?”
“Nice shorts.” Claire wiggled her eyebrows and gave him a pair of finger guns before she exited the building. He looked down at his loose cargo shorts with more pockets than he needed. Seriously, what the hell was happening with his fashion taste?
The graduation day finally arrived, promising two wonderful months of well deserved break. Pride filled Dean as he watched all of his students greeting each other excitedly. He was a mere professor, but he had bonded with these not-teenagers-anymore over the years and he really enjoyed watching them grow into the adults they were becoming now.
Claire tackled him out of the blue, squeezing him into a tight hug. Taken aback, Dean huffed a small laugh. She had always seemed like such a tough kid with boundaries and look at her now. Smiling fondly, he patted her head. “Aw, don’t cry.”
She released her grip and punched his shoulder before she wiped at her nose. “ Shut up, I’m not.” Now that was the Claire he knew.
His own eyes started to prick. This was the fate of a professor, the students came and went, generation after generation, while he was destined to stay frozen in one spot. “I’ll miss you too.”
Claire cleared her throat, fingers playing with her rings. “Yeah. Thanks for…” She trailed off and gestured vaguely. everything.”
Dean smiled widely. “Of course. Be good.”
“I’m not five.” She aimed for annoyance, but the smile building on her face sold her out. Yeah, he really was going to miss her.
Dean arched an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you sure, beca-” A familiar face caught his attention and the rest of the sentence died out on his tongue. Something didn’t add up though, because the person approaching them was one dapper son of a gun. The navy suit fitted his body perfectly, hugging him in all the right places. So there were shapes underneath those clothes after all, he just couldn’t usually see them. And the bucket hat was nowhere to be seen either, the hair tastefully mussed.
Jim wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “There you are.”
Claire gave his torso a small squeeze. “Hi, dad.”
Recognition flashed in Jim’s blue eyes and Dean swallowed thickly. Had he been wrong this whole time? Had Jim known that Dean was shamelessly staring at him whenever he had the chance? It wasn’t even like he was attracted to him, he just enjoyed the company and Jim’s dad moves – sue him. However, now, up close and in a suit? Dean felt like his insides filled with magma and soon he would turn into a puddle by Jim’s feet. Embarrassing, taking into account that his daughter, Dean’s student, was currently watching him with curious eyes.
Claire glanced between him and Jim, squinting. “Do you know each other?”
Jim nodded, “I’ve attended one of the parent-student meetings, then your mother completely took over.”
Aha! So that was where Dean had seen him. Relief flooded his body and he fought the urge to tip his head back and let out a low groan. Wow, he felt like he had just scratched a deep rooted itch, finally having the answer to Charlie’s question. However, now that he knew what Jim looked like up close, with a neatly groomed beard that made his jaw look so sharp he could cut glass with it, Dean wondered if he would be able to continue his weekend ritual without getting all flustered. Heat crept up his cheeks and he took a step back.
Claire was still looking at them like she wasn’t buying his father’s words, but then just shrugged. “Cool.” She hugged Dean one last time before she disappeared into the crowd, leaving them alone. Jim on the other hand didn’t move, studying Dean. Being in the spotlight made him want to squirm, especially with how intense Jim’s gaze was.
After a minute of just staring, Jim’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Dean, right?”
“Yeah. Dean Winchester.” He forced a confident smile and reached his hand out for a handshake. “You must be Mr. Novak then.” What was it with him and sudden formalities? Thankfully long fingers wrapped around his own and Jim squeezed his palm. “Please, call me Cas.”
Okay, he had been miles away with his guess and it would take a while to replace Jim with Cas in his head. He just hoped he wouldn’t let it slip out loud.
“Cool. Cas.” He tested the name with his mouth and it had a nice ring to it, definitely better than Jim.
“Can I ask you something, Dean?” Cas put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and something about that pose made Dean just a tiny bit weak in the knees. Cas just seemed so… confident, powerful, the complete opposite of the dorky dad wearing a bucket hat and flaming hot shirt in the privacy of his own patio.
Dean bit down his tongue not to serve the you just did line and nodded instead, especially with his brain lagging from the sight before him.
“Does my music ever annoy you?”
Dean just blinked, “What?” Oh shit. Abort. Abandon ship. Houston, we are fucked. What are the coordinates for the closest black hole?
The knowing smile he gave Dean, as if the guy could read his mind, only confirmed his suspicion. Yeah, it was time for the ground to split into a half and swallow him whole. God, he needed to start looking for a new house. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled – it was all he could think of, embarrassed to the core.
“Don’t be, I’m not bothered. I enjoyed our little…” Cas rocked his head as if looking for the right term. “Shared solitude.”
And that was quite accurate, right? They had just existed close to one another, doing their own thing. It was comforting, having somebody like Jim, no, Cas – Dean didn’t know if they could go back to it with it being out in the open though. Part of Dean’s kind of stalkery behaviour was the thrill of Cas not knowing. However, now that Dean knew that Cas knew and still allowed it…
“Yeah, me too.” Dean admitted quietly, chin dipped to his chest, still feeling like his face was mere inches from a bonfire.
“Would you like to do something that actually involves…” Cas wet his lips. “having to do it together?”
Out of all the things, this wasn’t on his Cas bingo card. Was he really asking Dean out? He couldn’t tell if the guy was offering something as innocent as a coffee in a cafe or… His pulse quickened. Shit. “If you leave your special clothes at home.”
Castiel arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing on his face. “I thought you enjoyed my clothing choices, judging by the fact you started to dress similarly.”
Fuck, he did, didn’t he? How had he not noticed Cas watching him too? Dean’s brain struggled to scramble for some reasoning behind it. Right, the glasses! He was going to blame it on the glasses (even if they weren’t always there). “They’re comfortable.” he said, splaying his arms.
Cas laughed and what a pleasant sound that was. “Hey, I would know, okay?” He took a confident step forward, their chests almost bumping. His voice was low when he spoke again. “So, tell me Dean, are you gonna take me up on that offer?”
Usually Dean was the one hitting on others and being on the receiving end sent tingles down his spine. Instead of saying something flirty, or smart, his mouth worked on its own. “I know this sounds strange but… Would you like to help me pick a sofa? I’ve been putting it off for a while now and I’d like somebody’s opinion.” Charlie, Jo and even Meg had offered to help with it, but this was in no way significant right now.
Cas bit down a smile. “You want my opinion after you dissed my clothes?”
Dean licked his lips, Cas’ eyes following the motion of his tongue. “It just seems like you do know how to dress when you want to.”
Cas seemed to consider it and Dean held his breath in anticipation. “Touche, but okay. Under one condition.”
There were conditions now? Wasn't it Cas who wanted to take him out in the first place? Dean’s throat felt like it was filled with sand, no matter how many times he had swallowed. “Which is?”
Cas leaned even closer, his lips practically brushing against Dean’s ear. “You’ll let me test it out once it gets delivered to your house.”
Now, how could Dean say no to that? They had to go to a shop ASAP.