Cas' still damp sneakers stepped out into the dark night, the sounds of car horns and people always present no matter how late it got in this big city. He had about five or so blocks til he got to where he had parked his car that morning and he grimaced at the thought of treading through the snow and crowds and cold winter air all that way. Wrapping his blue scarf around his slender neck, the deep blue of the fabric making Cas' neck look even paler, he began to the journey to his vehicle that seemed so far away.
After he had walked two and half blocks, his arms were already getting sore from his stupid folder full of shittly half written stories. After Dean had left though, Cas sat down behind the counter on the cool steel of the stool and set his pen to the paper. He managed to write an entire page just on the intense green of Dean's eyes, and another describing the way his body moved. Cas hoped that maybe this was the end of his block, maybe he had just needed the right thing to write about. And fuck, did he ever have a lot to dream up about Dean. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he did quite like the way Dean flirted with him and he had begun writing a short little tale starring his favorite customer. Cas just couldn't help it; Dean was so beautifully built, the colors of his skin and eyes and lips so intricate to describe, and the way he walked was so smooth and confident, like he knew just how attractive he was and knew exactly how to exploit that gift. Cas knew, though, that he was probably not a man he should get involved with. Dean seemed brazen and rash and grungy with his five o clock shadow gracing his cheeks that were tan though it was the end of the coldest winter Cas had experienced in a long while. And one of the lonliest.
The sidewalk in front of the parking garage his car was icy and in between the slight blurriness of his sight due to the painful thought that had surprised his mind after spending months doing his best to forget it and the slickness of the dark concrete, Cas had difficult time keeping his footing. Concentrating hard though he was, he suddenly felt his cold feet rip out from under him, causing first his ass, then the back of his head, to smack the ground, a sharp pain shooting up his spine. His papers scattered all around him, fluttering softly to the ground like the snowflakes outside the garage.He noticed a slightly familiar figure rushing towards him before his vision spiraled into the black of his eyelids closing.
...
Dean set the shivering man down on his black leather couch, pulling off his soaked high tops and and grey socks that had a little hole on the side of his foot. Stepping back, his eyes travelled over Cas' body, taking in the sharp edges of his jawline and shoulder blades. Cas' black tee had rode up when Dean set him down and the indents his hips made leading into his dark jeans and the sculpted lines made a filthy thought pop into his head, the kind that usually surfaced late at night when Dean was alone. Of course, he wasn't glad per say that Cas had happened to hit his head and pass out right as he was walking to his car from his job at the mechanic's down the road from where Cas worked, but he had to admit that this opportunity to get to see Cas outside of the cozy book shop was a welcome change. And technically, he couldn't really get angry at Dean as he had saved his (very nice) ass. Sitting down on the couch opposite when Cas was resting, he splayed the papers across the smooth coffee table and inspected the spidery hand writing. It was clear that Cas was an extremely talented writer, and he enjoyed his pieces very much. Then Dean's named popped out at him from the scribble of words on one of the pages and he began reading Cas' description of his eyes, and more interestingly, his body. A smirk spread across Dean's plush lips as he read Cas' thoughts of him. Right as he was in the middle of reading a sentence that began with, "His dark jeans fit losely on his hips, hanging teasingly low," he noticed Cas waking up.
Cas' eyes felt like they were glued shut and his eyelids seemed to weigh ten times the amount they should, but he eventually forced them open. His vision was cloudy and once the light hit his eyes, pain coursed through his head like a bolt of lightning and he groaned. He sat up and scanned the apartment he was in. It was tidy, with a little, but sophisticated, kitchen, walls that were painted a deep gray and were free of any decoration or pictures. A hallway lead off to what Cas assumed to be a bedroom and possibly a bathroom. The man sitting across the couch from him looked up from the messy stack of papers he was studying at the sound and crossed the room, stopping by the couch Cas had been set on.
"You're awake," a deep, rough voice sighed softly, as if he was finally letting out a breath he had been holding. Cas struggled to turn his head towards the speaker and scrambled to sit up. Green eyes below worried brows met his curious blue ones and Cas breathed out a sharp fuck. Of course it was Dean. Because Cas obviously couldn't catch a break.Out of the nearly million people in this city, it had to be the one man Cas had been fantasizing about, often while he was in bed late at night.
"Um, yeah," Cas replied nervously. "What happened?"
"Well," Dean lifted up one very well sculpted arm to scratch the back of his head, revealing a light strip of his muscled stomach, and Cas' breath caught in his throat as his eyes studied the shadowed indent of the sharp canyon his hip bones created. "You fell and hit your head. Your phone was dead so I couldn't call anyone to come and get you, so I took you here. At first, you didn't really breathe and the welt on the back of your head was pretty big, so I put some ice on it and made sure you were comfortable."
Which explained the navy blanket encasing Cas' lower legs. Suddenly, a thought crossed Cas' mind and he looked at Dean, concerned.
"I had a binder full of paper, I think I dropped it, did you-" Cas' question was cut short as Dean glanced towards the table he had set the papers he was reading as he waited for Cas to wake up, and Cas' face flushed a brilliant red, his eyes falling away from Dean's and looking at his hands in his lap.
"You're a very talented writer. I especially loved the description of the, what was it again? Oh, right, the green-eyed beauty, his smell so unforgettable, of musk, and leather, and wood," Dean quoted dramatically, his eyes sparkling as he chuckled. "Sounds like quite an attractive man, if I do say so myself."
Cas shot an cold glare at the man and crossed his arms. "You invaded my privacy by reading those," He huffed angrily.
Dean sat down on the edge of the couch cushion closest to Cas and leaned in, his hot breath against his ear as he breathed out softly sending shivers down Cas' spine. "From what I read, it sounded like you really want me to "invade your privacy," Dean whispered in his lowest register, setting all of Cas' nerve endings of fire. He bit his lip and hoped to God his blanket was covering the hard on he had from hearing Dean's voice so close, so deep. But apparently, Cas' series of unfortunate events hadn't ended. Dean pulled back and glanced down at the bulge in Cas' pants, pulling those rosy lips into a smirk.
"Don't worry, darling, I'll help you out with that situation later. But for now, we need to get you some food." Dean brushed his hand "accidentally" against Dean's jean clad thigh and stood up, striding over to the kitchen.
"What makes you think I want you to 'help me'?" Cas shot back cheekily. Dean didn't reply, only gestured to Cas' papers still laid out on the table top, and then looked back at Cas with one eyebrow gracefully raised.
As Dean prepared whatever food he was making while singing a very nice rendition of This Magic Moment, Cas studied Dean as he started pulling ingredients out of the wooden cupboards. His muscles created shadows on his tan arm, veins snaking down his forearm, which was sprinkled with bright white scars that were souvenirs of his time spent fixing cars. Dean's wide shoulders led into a sculpted chest that seemed strong but also like it would be nice to wake up cuddling next to. Next, his eyes fell to a toned abdomen that was rock hard and most likely tan and Cas' heart stuttered at the image that surfaced in his mind. He probably had a concussion and Dean's body definately wasn't good for his head. Even from behind and with Deans shirt covering it, Cas could tell that Deans hips were hard and slim, that, as he viewed before, created dark valleys into the jeans that were balanced dangerously low. Cas inspected the round curve of Deans ass, his slim pants framing it perfectly. Moving his eyes farther down, Cas trailed the indents of his thighs, the dark line the strain in the light fabric caused by his large muscle showing Cas' eyes down to the form of his calf. Cas took a look at himself, comparatively, and sure enough, he looked like shit. His hair felt messy and his shirt was wrinkled into oblivion. His ass was still thawing from the hard impact of it on the ice and his feet were numb and wet. Cas concluded that he quite needed a shower, and went to stand up. Instantly, pain crashed down like waves on sand and his vision swirled, making him sit back down with another loud groan.
"Though i thoroughly enjoyed that sound," Dean interjected from the kitchen, Cas just knowing his mouth was drawn into that sexy smirk again, "I think you have a concussion. Lie back down," He commanded, walking in from the kitchen with a plate in one tan hand and a clear glass full of water and two pills on the other.
Cas cursed him because God, his voice was so fucking hot, and he really needed to focus on the situation at hand.
Dean dragged the coffee table across the soft carpet to where Cas was sitting and sat on the unoccupied cushion next to his still-thawing body, setting the plate, glass, and pill down in front of him. Cas looked at Dean with those crystal blue eyes of his and Dean was shocked at how deep they looked with the sun hitting them through the opened window facing Cas.
"So, Dean, right?" Cas' gravelly voiced sounded next to Dean.
"Yeah," Dean responded.
Cas nodded slowly, picking up the glass and bringing it to his lips. Dean studied the way his rosy lips set on the glass, the slight tilt of his head as he poured the water into his mouth, the way his slim, pale throat moved as he swallowed. Cas set the glass down and noticed Dean staring at him. Cas cleared his throat and Dean looked at him sheepishly, a red flush creeping up through his cheeks.
"So, how'd you find me? I mean, I appreciate it and all, but..." Cas trailed off, inviting Dean to fill in his answer.
"I actually work in the mechanic's shop just down the street from your bookstore, so I guess we park in the same garage. I saw you leave the shop at the end of your shift and I, uh," Dean scratched the back of his head nervously and adverted his eyes before continuing. "I was actually going following you to ask you if you wanted to get a drink sometime. But like I said earlier, you tripped and fell, so obviously I never got to ask you."
"Well, I mean, if the offer still stands, it would be the least I could do to say thank you for helping me." Cas bit his lip, mentally hoping it did because he would love to see Dean, who was usually rigid and formal, though flirty at times, loose and crazy and drunk.
"Of course it does, I would love that," Dean replied happily, a little smile creeping over his face.
"Well, in that case, you'd better get me home. I want to look less like I just rolled around in shit to go out with you." Cas stood up, his head still throbbing a bit, and tugged Dean's hand to pull him up. A little jolt went through Dean as Cas' hand grabbed onto his and he stood up next to him.
Cas looked at Dean sheepishly. "Do you mind if I hold your hand til we get down to my car? My head's still kinda.." He twirled his hand around in a circular motion to indicate the low level of pain in his head.
Dean smiled at the man's adorable gesture, and nodded. "Of course."
Cas began walking and Dean's eyes traveled down his muscular back to his well-shaped ass clad in tight black pants, and his dick hardened slightly at the nice sight.
They got down to Dean's Impala, and he opened up the passenger door for Cas before sliding in on the other side himself. "Where do you live?" Dean asked, turning the key in the ignition, the car chugging to a start.
"In the apartments by the park over in the south part of town," Cas responded as he folded his hands in his lap.
They drove along in relative quiet, the only sound the music drifting from the radio. As they pulled up to the front of his apartment complex, Cas turned to Dean.
"Thank you. For taking me home, saving me, everything."
"No problem, really. I was hoping for a way to get to talk to you some more anyways," Dean admitted.
Pulling over to the edge of the sidewalk, Dean and Cas stepped out of the car and Dean walked Cas up to his door to make sure he made it okay. They stopped at Cas' door and stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Dean leaned in and pecked Cas softly on the cheek.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7, is that okay?"
"Yeah, I don't work Saturdays," Cas replied softly, his hand wandering up to where Dean had placed his lips moments before. "See you then."
Cas unlocked his door and stepped inside, giving Dean a once over and smiling happily before closing the door.
