Helpless | Destiel college a.u.

30

– Cas –

Walking down the hall, I saw Dean on the bed, staring out the window.

"Dean," I spoke, entering the room.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, turning to face me. "I don't assume you have feelings for me. I don't know why I said that."

"I forgive you. You were just mad." I sat next to him. "Although I don't know why."

"I was mad at Sam for calling us out," he informed me.

"Why did you hold my hand?"

Dean was quiet.

I looked over to see him looking down at his legs, blushing.

"I was comfortable in the moment," he explained, shrugging a bit.

"I liked it." I smiled softly. "Your hand was warm. I felt safe, like you'd be able to protect me."

"I would." He looked up at me, his eyes determined. "I'd protect you, Cas. From anything or anyone that tries to hurt you."

"Thank you, Dean."

He held out his hand towards me and I took it, letting them fall between us on the bed.

"Pizza for dinner," Jo announced, walking into the room.

We let go quickly and pulled our hands toward ourselves. I stood up and grabbed my journal and pencil, following her back downstairs.

I sat in the living room and started to draw while Ellen put two frozen pizzas in the oven. My senses began to fill with the scent of the Italian delicacies as I sketched a Christmassy scene.

Dean walked into the room after a while and lifted up my arms so he could lay across the couch, his head resting on my lap as he faced away from me. He hooked his arm around my back and pulled my arms back down on top of him.

I smiled to myself and continued to draw.

In my picture, I drew a room similar to the one we were in. A Christmas tree in the corner, a window in one wall looking out upon a snowy scene, a fireplace in the corner. On the couch of the room, I drew two boys in a similar position to the one Dean and I were in.

Soon dinner was ready and we had to get up, my lap left cold as Dean and I moved to the dining table.

When we finished eating, the two of us returned to the couch.

This time, Dean sat next to me and turned on the tv while I continued working in my sketch.

"We don't have plans for tomorrow, right?" He asked after a while.

"We're throwing Bobby a bachelor party," I reminded him, not looking away from my sketch.

"That will involve us all getting drunk at around seven PM and reminiscing about our soon-to-be-officially-connected families." He sighed, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. Dean's arm nearly rested over my shoulders. "I meant during the first three quarters of the day."

"In that case, no. We don't," I confirmed.

"Good. I want to go back to the drift," he told me, watching my downturned face from the side.

I glanced up at him and saw a smile stretched across his lips.

"Why?" I asked.

"I need someone to take some of my college graduation pictures there." Dean nudged my knee with his.

"Oh." I smiled, returning my eyes to my paper. "Okay."

"Okay." He slipped his arm forward, around my shoulders for real this time.

We sat there until Jo walked in, ready for bed.

"Guys, stop making out where I'm going to sleep," she groaned teasingly.

"I don't think so." Dean shifted our bodies smoothly, pinning me down onto the couch with his legs on either side of mine. He put his hand over my mouth and kissed it messily, over-dramatising his performance. I wrapped my arms around his neck, going along with it.

"Ew, ew," Jo squealed, covering her eyes. "I'm never going to get that image out of my head now, thanks a lot, guys."

Dean sat up and climbed off of me, laughing at her reaction. I pushed myself up, my heart racing and my head spinning from what had just happened.

Nearly stumbling as I did so, I followed Dean upstairs to our room.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't regret it if we did make out like that, but I would not regret if we made out like that," I announced bravely, laying down on the bed. "I mean... N-not us specifically, but... You know..."

"I'd make out with anyone at this point." Dean shrugged, taking off his shirt to change for the night. "I haven't even kissed anyone since Lisa."

"I kissed Balthazar." I felt relieved at the slight topic change. "He seemed pretty into it, considering he wasn't actually gay."

"What was your first kiss like?"

"Same as everybody's... Awkward as hell. What about yours?"

"Well, technically my very first kiss was in Kindergarten." finished getting dressed and turned around again. "But my first 'real' kiss was in eighth grade. I liked this girl and I told her to meet me behind a bush during recess and I just went for it. I kinda sucked at it, though. I like to think I've improved since then."

"Mine was a girl I had been friends with for a couple years." I stared up at the patterns in the texture of the ceiling. "Her name was Alex. I basically just asked her to kiss me so people at school wouldn't think I was a loner and she was nice enough to do it. We dated for a while because she liked the kiss."

"It's weird to imagine you being with girls," Dean laughed lightly.

"I've dated a bunch of girls. I just never really liked any of them." I shrugged as he walked to turn the light off.

"Tell me about them."

"Sleep with me again tonight."

"Fair deal." He climbed into bed with me and I told him stories about my previous relationships.

why do you write like you're running out of time?