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“Cas, hey. Hey. Hey, Cas!”
Castiel looks up, finally registering that the voice he hears is directed at him. He finds Dean Winchester standing in front of him. How long has he been there?
“Ah, hello Dean. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.”
Dean leans against Charlie Bradbury's kitchen table and eyes Castiel critically. “You okay, man? You've been standing here for, like, a while.”
“Yeah. Yes. I was just thinking.”
Dean gives a smile, Castiel likes to think that it's fond, but maybe that's just wishful thinking. “Come on, they're about to start the movie.”
“Alright.”
Castiel lets himself be led back into the living room, loud and chaotic. The sounds of talking and laughing and shouting are enjoyable, but Castiel can't handle much of it at once, which is why he'd fled to the kitchen a while ago. He hopes Dean was the only one who noticed he was gone, he doesn't want to seem rude.
In the living room Charlie, Gilda, and Kevin sit on the sofa, Gilda's feet tucked up under Charlie's legs. Jo is curled up on a beanbag chair. Dean sprawls out on an overstuffed armchair that could easily fit two, and Benny is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch.
With all the seats taken in his absence, Castiel opts for the floor. He settles himself down in front of Dean's seat.
“What are we watching?” Asks Jo.
“Legally Blonde!” Charlie announces.
“Not again!” Kevin moans.
“Suck it up, Tran! My house, my movies!”
“It's not just your house!” Kevin points out.
Charlie rolls her eyes, sighing. “What do you guys think?” She asks Gilda and Jo, who also live in the house.
“I like Legally Blonde.” Says Gilda.
“We're watching Legally Blonde.” Says Jo.
Castiel suspects, by Kevin's scowl, that they're messing with him. It's hard to tell. Castiel has never been to one of these “movie nights” before. These aren't even his friends, not really. Acquaintances at most. They're Dean's friends.
“Drinking game?” Asks Dean, hopefully.
“Of course.” Charlie responds, “Should we do whiskey or vodka?”
“I'll get the shot glasses.” Says Jo.
Castiel needs to get out more, that's what everyone says. Well, that's what Dean says, and Dean is his only friend so, really, Dean is everyone.
Castiel would point out that he's almost never in his dorm, but more than likely in the library, which is where he met Dean in the first place.
Dean always argues that the library doesn’t really count as out, but Castiel disagrees. It gets him away from his current roommate, and that's out enough for him. So what if he doesn't leave campus? So what if he doesn't really talk to anyone?
He's doing fine, alright? He's okay. He's great.
“Shot!” Charlie shouts, throwing back her head and tossing the vodka down her throat. Jo follows suit, but she's the only one.
Gilda went to bed a good thirty minutes ago, giving Charlie a kiss on the head and saying something about having things to do in the morning.
Kevin is gone as well, having walked home to his own apartment mere blocks away.
Benny, the massive teddy-bear, is curled up on the floor with a throw pillow under his head, snoring with all the intensity of a chainsaw.
Castiel looks at the clock on the wall and sighs. “I ought to be getting back, actually.”
“Aw, already?” Charlie pouts.
“It's three in the morning.” Castiel points out.
“Oh.” Charlie blinks, finally noticing the time, “That it is. Well, uh, it was good to meet you! You should come to our movie nights all the time, it was good havin' you!”
Castiel gives a dry little laugh and starts the laborious journey to his feet. “Maybe.” He says, despite the fact that he's sure she's just being polite. He's too quiet, he knows, he never makes much of an impression.
Behind him there's a rustling, and then suddenly Dean is standing unsteadily beside him. “C'mon.” He says, “I'll walk with you.”
“You don't have to, Dean.”
Dean shakes his head, walking toward the entrance way to get his shoes. “Don' want you getting' mugged.” He says.
Castiel waves at Charlie and Jo and goes to get his own shoes. “I'm not sure you'd be much help against a mugger.” He tells Dean, who is currently struggling to tie his boots.
Dean waves him off and staggers to his feet finally. “I can still kick anybody's ass.” He insists, “You ready?”
Castiel nods, and the two of them leave the house together.
As silly as it may sound, college has been harder than Castiel thought it would be. It's not the work, it really isn't. He can do the work just fine, it's the loneliness. He'd thought he'd been lonely in high-school, but it was nothing compared to this. His parents may have been distracted and borderline neglectful, but at least they were there . They were a safety net, if a vague one, if all else failed they would probably be there. But now he's halfway across the country and he has no one.
His parents don't even call anymore after... after...
The night is cool, but not cold. Castiel has a light jacket but Dean seems fine in just his t-shirt. Leaves skitter along the sidewalk, pushed by the wind. Castiel wraps his arms around himself, willing to admit now that he's glad to have Dean with him. It's too dark to be walking home alone, especially for the distance. It's a good half hour back to campus.
As they walk, Castiel lets himself relax. It's just him and Dean now, and he feels okay with Dean. He feels safe. Dean is easy to talk to, easy to be with, and Castiel thanks whatever string of fate brought them to become friends.
For a time they walk in companionable silence, and the cool air seems to be working slowly to sober Dean up.
“You okay tonight, bud?” Dean asks after a while, “You seemed a little...”
“Sorry,” Castiel says, “Sorry. I'm... just...” He rubs his face with one hand, “Tired, I guess.”
“That's what you always say.”
“Yeah, well, I’m tired a lot.” Castiel points out.
“Roommate botherin' you again?”
Castiel sighs. “I mean...”
“Cas, c'mon man. You gotta tell me about this stuff. I'm gonna have a talk with him, okay?”
“Do not!” Castiel insists, “Do not do that!”
“Why not?”
“It's like- it's like having a parent talk to your high-school bully. It's not going to do any good. In fact, it'll probably just make things worse for everyone.”
“Did that happen to you?” Dean asks.
Castiel scoffs. “What, you think my parents cared enough to even find out that I had a bully?”
As soon as he lets the words slip out of his mouth, he regrets them. A look over at Dean's stunned face makes him wish even more that he hadn't said them. Dean knows a little about his past, but not much. He doesn't know the extent of things, and Castiel had been happy to keep it that way.
“Dude-” Says Dean, “That's fucked up.”
“Oh look!” Castiel says quickly, changing the subject with as much ease as a blundering elephant, “There's my building.”
They walk up to the front, but Castiel can't seem to find it in himself to walk through the doors. He knows what's waiting for him in his room: a bed that's barely been slept in in a week and a roomate who hates him. He doesn't want to go up.
“Maybe I’ll just go to the-”
“Don't say the library.” Dean interrupts, “It's three in the morning. It's closed and you know it.”
Castiel closes his eyes. He's quiet for a long moment. “I don't want to go up.” He says finally.
Dean doesn't say anything at first, but then, “Come back to mine.”
“What?”
“You can spend the night with me. Come on. I have a couch and everything.”
It sounds nice, but Castiel hesitates. “You roommate-”
“Dropped out.” Dean informs him, stuffing his hands into his pockets and giving a shrug, “They haven’t saddled me with anyone else yet.”
“I don't want to impose.”
Dean gives him a look. A look. It says, you're being ridiculous and you know it.
“I- I don't have my clothes-”
“I've got clothes, Cas. I have an extra toothbrush, I have lots of blankets, come on.”
There's nothing else to say, really, and Castiel lets himself be led to Dean's building instead. He feels a little guilty, but mostly relieved. He doesn't have the strength to deal with his roommate tonight, or to worry about what might happen in the morning. He just wants to sleep and not worry about anything, and that can't happen in his own room.
Dean's whole building feels easier, even. They step through the side door and Castiel finds himself relaxing already. Up three flights of stairs and halfway down the hall, Dean's room is a haven of peace and secutiry. It's almost embarrassing how much better Castiel feels once he's inside and Dean is closing the door behind him. It's a small room, but it has baby blue walls, one twin bed with green and black striped sheets and a comforter that looks so, so comfortable. There used to be another bed, Castiel knows, but now there's a couch pushed agianst the other wall instead, old and worn.
“You know, I think you're just about the tensest person i've ever met.” Says Dean.
“Sorry.”
“No- it's okay, that's not what-” Dean frowns, toeing off his shoes and shucking off his jeans, “Okay, this is gonna seem like a weird question.”
Castiel nods, slipping off his own shoes and setting them beside Dean's. He's not used to this sort of easyness, getting undressed in front of friends is a foreign concept. He doesn't want to seem weird though, so he pushes off his own jeans and accepts the pajama pants Dean tosses him. When they're both in pajamas, Dean asks the question.
“When was the last time you were... touched?”
Castiel stills, “Like... intimately?”
Dean shrugs, “However. Anything at all, a hug, a handshake?”
Castiel blinks, he can't think of the last time he was hugged, actually. His parents were never big huggers, and he hasn't shook anyone's hand in recent memory. It's not something he's thought about, but now that Dean has brought it to his attention, he can't remember the last time he had physical contact with anyone at all.
“I... I don't know.” He says, shocked at this revelation.
Dean looks at him, and Castiel can't figure out his expression. He's just standing there in pajama pants and band t-shirt looking soft and trustworthy.
“I don't know.” Castiel says again. He's having trouble breathing, and there's a sharp pain in his head. He doesn't want to think about how he never touches anyone, doesn't have anyone to touch.
Dean is closer, suddenly, hands in front of him appeasingly. “Hey, it's okay, man.”
Castiel is gulping air, it's not enough. His heart is racing.
“Hey,” Dean says, closer still, “I'm just gonna-” He puts his hands gently on Castiel's shoulders, “I'm just gonna do this now, okay?”
Gently, he pulls Castiel to his chest, into a hug. His hands press to Castiel's back and shoulder.
Even though he knew it was coming, the hug is a surprising development for Castiel, he freezes. He finds himself blinking rapidly, wanting at once to be closer to Dean and to also be as far away as possible. Then, he melts against his friend, unable to help himself, his head goes to Dean's shoulder. He can't think, he can't breath, and he's crying. It's humiliating.
“I'm s-sorry.” He hiccups, hands balled into fists at Dean's chest, “Sorry.”
“No, no, it's okay.” Says Dean, he doesn't let Castiel go, he holds him tighter, “It's alright. I know, i've got you.”
Dean's got him.
Castiel cries harder, exhaustion and loneliness all coming to a head finally, after months and months of being afraid and alone, finally, finally, someone is there. He cries until he can't cry anymore, until he's just leaning weakly against his friend's chest, feeling embarrassed and empty but... better somehow. At least a little.
“Okay,” Dean says, pulling back a little, “to bed.” He gives Castiel a little pat on the back.
“But- the couch-”
“Nope. No way. You're sleeping with me tonight, we're gonna cuddle.”
Despite his words, he looks deadly serious. When Castiel opens his mouth to protest weakly, Dean fixes him with a stare.
“I don't care if you don't think it's “manly” or whatever, okay? You need to cuddle, we're gonna fuckin' cuddle, okay?”
Castiel blinks at him, and then again. He climbs into Dean's bed, feeling much calmer than he expected he would. His heart is still racing, but he feels otherwise fine. He trusts Dean. Dean is safe.
He sits with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them.
“You don't have to do this.” He says. He wants it to be clear, he doesn't want to intrude.
Dean puts his hands on his hips and frowns. Castiel has never met Mrs. Winchester, but in this moment he's positive that Dean is channeling her.
“Lay down.” Says Dean, and Castiel is right, he's downright motherly.
So he slips under the covers, cold but soft. He wiggles his toes against the unfamiliar fabric and rests his head on the edge of Dean's pillow. It's weird, being in someone else's bed, so completely unfamiliar. Strangely, it's comforting too. The soft black pillowcase smells like laundry softener and Dean, like rain and Old Spice. It's not like his bed in his own dorm, which smells of nothing, nothing at all, because he tries to spend as little time there as possible.
Dean switches off the overhead light before coming over to slip beneath the blankets beside Castiel. To Castiel's delight and trepidation, Dean draws close to him, just as he said he would. Not that he has much of a choice given the small dimensions of the bed. He wraps his arm around Castiel's middle and presses their bodies together wherever they'll go.
For the first time in what might be forever, Castiel breathes.
“I didn't know- I didn't know I was even missing anything.”
“I know.” Dean says, “I know. It's okay. Sleep.”
To both of their amazement, Castiel does.
This is how Castiel moves in with Dean. They don't discuss it, not in so many words, but when Dean catches Castiel falling asleep in a chair at the library again he drags him back to his own dorm and tucks him into bed. After a few instances of this, Dean tells him to just go ahead and come by, it'll save time. Some days later he goes with Castiel to retrieve his things from his own dorm while his roomate is out. Then, very suddenly, their socks are side-by-side in the drawers of Dean's dresser. Their shirts hang together in the little closet, their textbooks scattered across the floor where they study together now. They end each night curled up together in the dark.
As Dean predicted, Castiel has relaxed monumentally, he's getting enough sleep now as well as human contact. Unsurprisingly, sleeping in the same bed as brought Dean and Castiel closer as well.
“You know,” Castiel says into the darkness, voice quiet, “I used to think I wasn't a very huggy person, or like- not a very physical person, you know?”
He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his head. Beside him, Dean is curled like a quotation mark, his nose and forehead pressed against the top of Castiel's arm.
“Hmm.” He says, sleepily.
“But... I mean, I guess it was just everyone else. No one wanted to touch me, so I convinced myself I didn't want to be touched.”
Dean rubs his nose against Castiel's skin. “That's fucked up.”
“I guess so.”
“Hey.”
“Huh?”
Dean hesitates, “Why don't your parents ever call you?”
Castiel blinks, “My parents?”
“Yeah. I mean, mine call so often I might as well be home. Like, I know that's abnormal, but most people's parents call sometime.”
Castiel turns away, shame curling in his stomach. As soon as he starts thinking about his parents, he starts getting a headache again.
“No, hey,” Dean reaches out, his fingertips against Castiel's throat, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”
Castiel shakes his head, blinking back tears. “You should be able to ask a simple question without me freaking out.”
“Cas-”
“They hate me.”
“No, no I'm sure- I’m sure they don't. I can't imagine anybody hating you.”
Castiel closes his eyes and wets his lips. “They stopped calling after I told them I was gay.”
Dean says nothing, but he slips his fingers into Castiel's and gives them a squeeze.
“I just-” Castiel continues, “I don't know, I guess I thought it would be easier for everybody if I told them while I was away. I guess I thought it would give them time? To adjust? I don't know.” He takes a deep breath, “Or maybe... maybe I knew they'd stop loving me.”
“Cas, man, you can't-”
“I never said anything about it when I lived at home. I was... so careful to keep that part of myself hidden. Honestly I’m a little surprised I figured it out myself. I mean- I guess I knew that they'd hate it. I guess that's why I did it while I was away. Fuck, it's a good thing I got all those scholarships.”
He doesn't even realize he's crying again until Dean reaches up to brush the tears away from his cheeks.
“Oh, babe.” He breathes, “Come here, come on.”
Castiel curls against him, head tucked into Dean's chest.
“Is it bad that I don't miss them?” He whispers, “Does that make me a bad person?”
Dean's hand rubs soothing circles on his back. “No. No, I don't think it does.”
“I don't know.”
“I know you're not a bad person. You trust me, right?”
“Yeah.” Castiel says to Dean's chest.
“Trust me. I'm pretty smart.”
Despite his inner turmoil, Castiel smiles, “You are pretty smart.”
They lay quietly for some time, Dean's fingers carding gently through Castiel's hair.
“You called me “babe”.” Castiel points out after a while. He and Dean aren't together, but there's this undercurrent of something always running, always around. He thinks he wouldn't mind being with Dean, Dean is good, he trusts Dean.
Dean's hand stills, “Oh. Uh, instinct, I guess.”
Castiel lifts his head a little to peer up at him. “Oh?”
“Uh,”
“I didn't mind it.”
“Really?”
Castiel shakes his head. “It's nice. I like endearments.”
“I didn't know that about you.” Dean is looking at him, differently now than he was before, “This is probably way out of line, but, uh, I kind of really want to kiss you?”
“That would be okay.” Castiel says, insides squirming with nerves and excitement, both.
Dean leans forward and kisses him, and everything goes quiet. At the press of Dean's soft lips, Castiel can no longer hear the noises outside. He presses back, opens himself, breathes Dean in, and he can no longer hear all the noise in his head.
It's just a pause, he's sure, the noise will be back, it always it. For now, though, he takes advantage of this respite. In the calm dark he kisses Dean.
Things go slower than he imagined they would, Dean's fingers are soft and gentle, more exploratory than conquering. They map him, taking stock of every spot that makes him gasp, every place that makes him squirm. Again, Dean doesn't press. Despite the unmistakable hardness of him against Castiel's hip, all they do is kiss, touch. There are no words for just how much this means to Castiel. It's so hard to explain.
He feels seen, held. So utterly, absolutely cared for that he wants to scream and cry, but he can't. His head is silent.
Dean's breath on his throat, their knees pressed together. Dean is the calm center of a storm. Castiel trusts him more then he's ever trusted anyone.
Some time later, they lay still.
“I was going to ask you,” Dean says, “Do you want to come home with me for Thanksgiving?”
“I don't want to impose on your family.”
Dean shakes his head. “They'll love you. I swear.”
Castiel takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. “Okay.”
Together, they sleep.