Light: A Destiel au

Mr. 504

The music started to drift under the door as the man in apartment 504 started to play his guitar. The music was no surprise to Castiel as it had become a routine that he and 504 had. At least 3 times a week he would play the same few classic rock songs that he knew and Castiel would quietly hum along to the bits that he knew as he sat with his back against his door reading over his medical text books trying to take notes. The music was always dull inside Castiel's apartment, so that night he decided to sit in the corridor. There were four apartments on the fifth floor, 501 and 502 were empty due to electrical problems, flickering lights, 503 was Castiel's apartment and directly across the hall was Mr. 504.
Castiel grabbed his note book and text books and sat in the empty hallway. The music was so clear out here; it was amazing how much one little wall could block out. 504's voice was so clear, it sounded like silk and stone. Castiel lay out his text book and started to copy out bits of a chapter on oxygen administration only stopping to clap when a 504 finished a song. At twelve o'clock the hall lights went off the only light was the moon and the light from under 504's door, castiel continued to sit in the dark hallway listening to the melody that flowed under the crack in the door, and the people on the floor above him yelling down asking for quiet. He felt himself drifting off to sleep half an hour later.
When he woke up that morning he found himself under a blanket, with breakfast beside him. The blanket smelt like whisky, leather and what can only be described as outside. He sat up keeping the blanket rapped around him as he ate the food that was left for him, two pieces of toast with honey and a glass of orange juice. There was a note tucked under the plate castiel pulled it out and read the messy hand writing: Good morning 503, I decided to make you breakfast this morning as a way of thanking you for the very weak clapping at the end of every song. Also sorry if I kept you awake last night, if you want me to be quiet please just ask, I understand that it's hard to study with lots of noise. Oh and you don't have to sit in the hallway if you do want to hear, the door is always open. Have a nice day. 504- Dean.
Ps: your eye lids flutter when you dream, okay that was creepy. Bye.
Castiel finished the food, gathered everything and went inside throwing his books and Deans blanket on his lounge. Did he watch me sleep? Was he crazy? Castiel tried to push these questions to the back of his mind, but he had never actually met his neighbour so for all that its worth he might be some kind of crazy serial killer. He washed the cup and plate, sitting them on the counter as he went to find a piece of paper to leave a note for dean. That seemed reasonable just wash the dishes, fold his blanket, place them in front of the door with a note and then leave.
Thanks dean for the food and blanket, I owe you one.
503- Castiel
The note was too short and castiel couldn't think of a way to make it longer and not so brief. So he decided to take them over, and hopefully, dean wouldn't be home maybe he had left for lunch and castiel could just leave the things at the door. But no that didn't happen, he knocked on the door just as it was opening. A very tall man stepped out into the hall, he had dark brown hair that could be seen as to long and was carrying two or three law text books. Castiel froze this man was beautiful, was this man was his neighbour?
"Umm are you dean?" He managed to squeak out.
"No I'm not, sorry" the tall man replied "but he is inside."
"Okay thank you."
Castiel watched as he left, then headed into apartment 504. The apartment was the same as his, but entirely different. The room smelt like alcohol, paint, leather and man. The main wall displayed guns and other typed of weapons.
"Sam?" A voice called from the bedroom.
"No. Sorry. Its castiel. 503."
As he said that a man emerged from the room, he was a little shorter than Sam, with dusty blonde hair cut short at the back and the sides. This man wasn't beautiful, he was art.
"I was just returning your things. I washed the plate and cup for you." Castiel said a little too quickly.
"Thanks man." dean said as he stuck out his hand "castiel wright?"
"Yeah." he replied meeting deans eyes, they were so green, containing every shade known to man, he had the kind of eyes people write stories about.
"Well, angel of Tuesday can I offer you a cup of coffee?"
Castiel didn't want to stay, he wanted to leave, go home and try to never see dean again. There was no problem with dean or how he lived, quite the opposite. He seemed like the type of person that castiel could become friends with, now that was the problem, castiel always managed to hurt the people he held the closest. So no he would not like a coffee.
"Sure, why not." The words were out of his mouth before he even realised he said them.
"Make yourself at home." Dean said as castiel sat down at the old wooden table.
How do you like it?" Dean asked
"Pardon?" castiel questioned
"Your coffee. How do you have it?" dean said smiling at the empty cups.
"Oh, two sugars and no milk. Thank you."
A cup of hot coffee appeared under castiel nose a few moments later.
"So why castiel?"
"Why what?"
"Your name, is there a story behind it?"
"Oh sorry." Castiel said blushing "my parents were weirdly religious, so they named my siblings and me after angles."
"What are your sibling's names? If you don't mind me asking?"
"Well my oldest brother and sister are twins, Michael and Lucy. Then there is Rachael, me and Gabriel."
"Lucy and Rachael?" dean questioned
"Lucifer and Raphael. So why Dean?"
"No offence but your parents seem nuts."
"They kind of are I guess." Castiel said sipping his coffee "So why dean?"
"It's kinda embarrassing."
"I bet that it's no worse than a family of archangels."
"Well my brother Sam and I were named after our grandparents, Samuel and Deanna."
"That's not even a bit embarrassing." Castiel said finely bring his eyes up to meat deans, squinting as the light shone through the window.
The conversation stopped for a while, the old pipes sung there rusted songs as the people above showered. The silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was the kind of silence that made you think. Dean watched as castiel drank his coffee, smiling when he knew that he was being watched. Dean's eyes were stuck on Castiel's face, the way his lips turn up at the ends, and the way the light passes his cobalt eyes, dean understood why he was named after an angel.