Tutoring (Destiel)

Chapter Eighteen

Castiel woke up at six o'clock. It was out of habit, like his mind was an alarm clock; everyday at the same time. He pushed himself up on the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked around the room, remembering that he wasn't at home or in some crappy motel room. He was in Deans room. He was in Dean Winchester's room. Holy shit.

It was almost as if he had forgotten to react the night before, because now his heart was pounding and heat covered his cheeks and he looked over to where he knew Dean would be sleeping. That may have been the worst and best decision Castiel had ever made in his entire life. Dean was still sleeping, but his appearance had changed from when Castiel last saw him -he was shirtless. The covers only came up to his waist and his chest was exposed. He was tan and well muscled from the sports he'd been doing and Castiel almost forgot to breathe.

Castiel threw the covers off of him and walked out of the room. He almost wanted to avoid Dean. He thought he wanted this; to be near him, in his room, close to him...but now it was almost frightening. Like he had to run away and just not confront his feelings. It's not okay. He thought to himself. He's just in there. Shirtless. Like, why is he shirtless? Who told him he could look that good? What am I even doing in his house? Why was he the one to help me? He was grateful for the help, but he was just really anxious about everything. Their lingering stares. Their closeness. Their moments of touching that seem comfortable, but have the ability to turn into something more, something that Castiel wants, but something he's not sure he could handle.

Dean's just being nice. Nothing could even happen. Why would that even be a possibility?

He goes to the bathroom just to catch his breath, because suddenly he gets an overwhelming feeling of suffocation. He closes the door and leans over the sink. He inhales deeply for four seconds, then exhales for another four. He does this a couple of times. It was a technique he picked up, it helped calmed his nerves, but sadly it couldn't calm his mind. He was still fumbling over thoughts Dean and life and unspoken things.

Castiel's hands were shaking. He started rubbing the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers. He had an urge to go into his backpack and look for his pills or Ash's baggie. Except Dean took those. He was honestly half thankful, he didn't need to become a drug addict on top of all the shit happening with his life. He also really wanted to punch Dean because now he wasn't calm. It felt like he could never be calm again. He looked up at himself in the mirror and dragged a hand through his dark hair. He took another deep breath and slowly let it out.

"It's fine. It's fine." He told himself. "I'll be fine."

Castiel opened the door and walked back to Deans room. He was wondering what was going to happen, he was pretty sure they were going to school, but beyond that he had no clue.

When he entered the room he saw that Dean was sitting on his bed (still shirtless) looking through his phone. He looked up when Castiel entered, a smile broke out on his face, although it was tired and showed how much he wasn't a morning person. His hair was sticking out in every direction and Castiel was hoping he didn't look like he was seeing a sunset for the first time. Dean looked adorable but also hot, which Castiel didn't think was possible, but Dean was there...in front of him...still shirtless...and equal parts hot and cute.

"I was wondering where you went." Dean spoke heavily, his voice still riddled with sleep.

"Just the bathroom, I woke up a few minutes ago." Dean nodded and stood up. His chest muscles drew Castiel's eyes downward for a second. He stared for a moment, only looking back up at Deans face when he thought about the fact that it would probably be really weird when Dean looked at him and saw his half glazed eyes ogling his bare chest.