Ready to Fall

Chapter Five

Mid-morning light is peeking through the curtains when Dean begins to stir the next day. Castiel's face is smashed up against Dean's shoulder, and he's hogging all the blankets just like he said he would, but Dean's not fully awake enough to form an opinion on either. He turns on his side, curling towards his best friend for warmth, and Castiel wiggles in his sleep until he's right up against Dean again, this time burrowing against Dean's chest and slotting a leg in-between Dean's.

Dean's brain is fogging over with sleep again, the muddled thought of how nice Castiel feels against him floating through his thoughts, when Dean registers arousal pump through him as Castiel shifts his leg under the covers- the same leg that is pressing firmly between Dean's legs 

Dean's eyes fly open as he bolts upright in bed and stares down at his best friend in horror.   

Castiel is blinking up at him, his blue eyes hazy and his brow furrowed. 

Dean's stomach rolls over, and he's afraid he just might vomit. He scrambles from the bed and begins to pace the floor, tugging at his hair and unable to meet Castiel's eyes, a mantra of ShitShitShitFuckShitFuckShit rattling around in his skull.

When he finally looks back to the bed Castiel is sitting up, his gaze tired but sure on Dean's pacing form. "Dean, what-" 

But Dean doesn't stick around to listen, retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, shutting out Castiel's rough morning voice and the look of confusion in his eyes. He starts the shower with shaking hands and once under the hot spray wraps his hand around his arousal, feeling guilty as hell when wide blue eyes and broad shoulders fill his thoughts.

When Dean pads out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe and with hair still wet, he sits on the edge of the bed closest to where his best friend has his nose stuffed in the same book he was reading the day before, his pair of Wayfarer frames perched on his nose.

He looks up at Dean, his hair still sleep mussed, his white shirt a little wrinkled, but his eyes still harbor that same confusion they did when Dean had run away like a coward. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"I uh-" Dean coughs nervously and runs a hand over his mouth, searching for the words he means to say. "I'm sorry about my-" he stops again, this time falling silent. 

Castiel's eyes bore into him for what seems like hours before understanding dawns on his face.

"Oh," he says quietly.

"Yeah," Dean croaks, "Sorry. I didn't realize and then you-" the words die on his tongue.

At that Castiel clicks his tongue against his teeth and rolls his eyes as he climbs out of bed. "Dean, it's perfectly natural," he states. "I may be a virgin, but I am certainly not a prude."

A breath of air gushes from Dean's lungs when he realizes Castiel isn't upset with him. "Just didn't want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you or something," Dean explains.

Castiel shakes his head, "Quite the opposite. I thought you were angry with me for-" he stops.

Dean raises an eyebrow, amusement sparking inside of him. "For what, Cas?'

"You know what I mean, Dean," Castiel grumbles.

"For cuddling me into oblivion?" Dean asks.

Castiel's cheeks turn a rosy color as his eyes find the floor. "Yes," he says quietly.

"Nah," Dean says with a smile. "Had to stay warm somehow, turns out my best friend is a blanket hoarder."

Castiel looks at Dean, a smile of his own playing at his lips. "I warned you," he points out.