Anon, I gotta tell you, this one was a tricky little beast. I hope you like it, it’d be great if you could let me know! Thank you for sending it in :) Written for “I didn’t ask for any of this ! But do you know why I put up with it? Because I love you!”
The dormroom is a fucking mess.
Castielpushes open the door to find the floor nearly covered with papers and variousmechanical paraphernalia, obscuring the well-worn carpet to the point where heisn’t even sure if he could make it over to his bed. In the centre of it all,the epicenter of the explosion, sits his roommate. Dean’s black-framed readingglasses are perched on his nose as he peers at a set of blueprints in one hand,then looks over to the half-constructed somethingin his other.
WheneverDean has a big project due, this is inevitably what ends up happening. Theirdorm room is transformed into his ‘workshop,’ despite Castiel’s numerousprotests, and his normally patient roommate becomes a snapping, snarlingmonster. Stressed Dean is Castiel’s least favourite type of Dean.
He clearshis throat from the doorway and tries to avoid stepping on a thick report witha title so full of engineering jargon that there’s absolutely no hope at all ofdiscerning its subject. Dean doesn’t look up, just bites his bottom lip andexchanges the blueprints for a screwdriver.
“Dean,” Castiel tries, more forcefully.This time, he gets a reaction.
Dean’s handjerks, and the screwdriver scrapes along a metal side. His roommate twists fromhis seat on the floor, and green eyes glare up at Castiel.
“Cas, whathave I told you about interrupting me while I’m in the middle of importantshit?” Dean snaps, running his thumb along the piece of metal to check that thescrewdriver hadn’t damaged it. Thankfully, it appears that Dean’s projectremains intact – if it hadn’t, this conversation would have escalated to afight very quickly.
As it is,they still need to talk.
“This is myroom too, Dean. I don’t mind you working here if you have to, but occupying itto the point where I can’t reach my own bed is a little excessive.”
Deangestures vaguely at the floor in front of Castiel, his gaze still fixed on hiscreation. “Just move the papers on friction and resistance, and the bag offlange nuts, and you’ll be fine.” He carries on tinkering with his project, andCastiel can feel his frustration welling up in his chest. It’s not helped bythe fact that he has no idea what on earth a ‘flange nut’ is.
“Dean,” hegrowls, not moving from the doorway – because he’d probably only step onsomething important, and then Dean would yell at him, and they’d fall into anargument anyway. “I’m serious. Clean the floor, one of us is going to hurtourselves, and I can’t get to my fucking bed.” He makes no attempt at hidingthe anger and frustration in his voice, and Dean definitely hears it, becausewhen he turns back to face Castiel, there’s a sharpness and a fire in thosegreen eyes.
“I’mworking on a project, Cas, deal with it.”
Castielflinches as though he’s been slapped. For all the nights that they’ve hung outtogether, laughing and talking about nothing in particular with Castiel slowlyfalling further and further, this is the nasty side of Dean that rarely comesout to play, and it’s like being stabbed in the gut.
He’shurting; his first instinct is to lash out in retaliation.
“Deal withit? Are you kidding me? This is my room, Dean, I have just as much right to thespace as you do, now clean it up, orI’ll—“
“You’llwhat?” Dean growls, setting the contraption aside, rising to his feet andpushing his heading glasses up on top of his head. He’s way too attractive likethis, fierce fire and barely-contained thunderstorms, and Castiel clenches histeeth so hard that something in his jaw pops. “You’ll complain about me to theRA? Request a room swap? What, Cas? You got a fucking problem?”
And that’sjust a push too far, to suggest that Castiel would throw away their wholefriendship over a silly argument.
“I didn’task for any of this! But do you know why I put up with it all? Because I loveyou.”
Then again,he might’ve just thrown away their entire friendship anyway.
He slaps ahand over his mouth, his eyes going wide and mortified in an expression that heknows must mirror Dean’s own. The room is silent.
“You loveme?” Dean whispers, his green eyes still wide with shock and arms hangingloosely by his side. Castiel wishes that he could turn back time, unsay it,unsay all of it. He’d put up with the bombsite of a room if it just meant thathe and Dean could be okay.
“Please,just forget about it, it’s not – I don’t want it to come between us.” His ownvoice sounds tremulous, sad. Dean just stares at him.
And then he’smoving, delicately picking his way over his various piles of paraphernaliauntil he’s standing in front of a shocked and immobile Castiel. The pile ofmetal directly behind Dean means that they’re forced close together, Dean’ssocked feet almost on top of Castiel’s tennis shoes, barely any space betweentheir chests.
Castielonly has a second to register the closeness of those green eyes before there arefirm, calloused engineer’s hands cupping his cheeks, and warm lips pressingagainst his own.
Dean is kissing him. He must be hallucinating, surely, but when helifts one hand to brace himself against Dean’s chest, his roommate feels warmand sturdy and real. To hell with it,he thinks, and melts into the kiss.
It feelslike it goes on forever, but it must have only been a few seconds before Deanpulls back, his cheeks flushed and a slightly goofy smile on his lips. “Youreally meant that?” he asks, and Castiel is too stunned to do anything but nodbefore Dean reels him in for another kiss. This one lasts significantly longer,and by the time they break apart, they’re both breathless and grinning.
Dean islooking at him like he hung the sun and moon and all the stars, and Castielknows he must look the same.
“I stillwant you to clean up the floor,” Castiel tells him, his voice soft.
Deanlaughs, and kisses him again.
