heavenonearth | (no subject)

[ getting to know sam winchester has been a pleasure.

he's young, but he's smart, and more than that he is engaging, and that is something that too many full-time, serious students sorely lack. castiel doesn't consider himself particularly entertaining, blames his lack of friends on it rather than his own introverted tendencies, but the point remains that his peers can be so terribly boring that it's all but mind numbing to spend time around them. research labs are enough to make him want to suck his own brains out with a straw, sometimes, and that's saying something, considering his threshold for entertainment is really rather low. and there are some of them who aren't so bad, really, but it isn't like the movies make it seem, that's for sure.

still, castiel is a graduate student. he's quiet and serious, so climbing the social ladder isn't terribly important to him, but even still, sam winchester is a breath of fresh air, smart and clever and funny, with a winning smile and an incredibly active mind. interacting with him is a privilege.

it had started as a tutoring job. sam had asked for a little help understanding his physics course, and someone had directed him to castiel, who had graciously, if uncertainly, agreed to do it. he doesn't fancy himself a teacher, and he certainly didn't think he'd be very good at it, though after a stiff and uncomfortable start, sam had begun to warm to him, and castiel found that he was glad of it. he'd worried that the gap in age might have been a deterrent, but sam is friendly and more mature than any undergrad he's ever known, and they get along well, swimmingly even now that castiel has begun to open to him more, unfolding himself bit by bit as their friendship develops into something more comfortable, something less about classes and more about simply spending time with one another.

they study together twice a week, on fridays and tuesdays. sam doesn't need much help with physics anymore, so castiel brings his own books and notes, works on whatever it is that he's writing or researching while sam buries himself in biology or organic chemistry. it's nice.

it's friday today, when castiel arrives at the little house sam rents off campus, and he tightens his overcoat against the brisk spring breeze as he moves quickly down the block; it's not far from the campus, so castiel always walks. he's rounding the corner when he feels his ~~shitty ancient~~ phone buzz in his pocket, and finds on it a quick message from sam: Picking up pizza, hope you like extra cheese. The garage door is unlocked, go ahead in, I'll be back soon. once castiel arrives, he finds the tiny one-car garage not only unlocked, but flung open wide, filled up by a broad but sleek black classic car that castiel doesn't recognize, loud music blaring from an old, dented radio resting on the workbench. the hood is up, but castiel can't see anything past it, can't see anyone until he's stepping inside the garage itself, dark brows drawn tight, his mouth a moue of disapproval. someone is bent over the engine, obscured by the raised hood of the car, and castiel is bewildered, confused - sam hadn't mentioned company. he certainly hadn't mentioned noisy company. he clears his throat. ]

Excuse me.

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[ dean is trying to be sweet about it, trying to be kind, but castiel's gut still feels all twisted up, his heart heavy in his chest, and a lump sticks in his throat that he cannot for the life of him swallow down.

it's just so impossible to believe, to think that dean could turn him down for any other reason besides the clear and simple reason that he's gotten cold feet, that he's realized that too much beer and a nice pretty sky had led him to do something that he now regrets. it happens to the best of people. sometimes mistakes happen. sometimes you are caught up in a sweet warm moment and it becomes so very easy to let it go too far, to find yourself all tangled up in it until you're turned around and you've got to slam on the breaks once you realize you're skidding out of control.

it's not the first time it's happened to him. mostly with men. it's not uncommon for a guy of dean's type to pull back, to realize they've gone too far with another man, or that castiel simply isn't their type. he and dean have so very little in common once you really get down to brass tacks, and a pretty face can only get you so far.

his love life is so damned cursed.

but then dean's kissing him again, over and over and over until his ears are full of the sound of their mouths and castiel can hardly stand it. a bittersweet ache burgeons inside of him, filling him up, and he breathes a plaintive sound against dean's mouth, falling into the kisses so easily that he finds himself swept away again, pining and yearning and clinging, his fingers wrapped around dean's wrists and gripping tight, face upturned and seeking for more. it feels so good, kissing him, like their mouths are two halves of a whole and he's only been waiting his entire life for this, for dean, for this man he is so comfortable against, their souls cushioning one another, pulled together like magnets.

it's foolish, though. that's nothing but castiel's own childish, wistful desires talking. dean says he isn't letting him down easy, but castiel cannot bring himself to believe it, cannot understand how this could be anything but that.

but he has to agree, doesn't he? there's no reason to argue it. swallowing thickly, he nods. ]

Of course.