Splatter

21. The Human 1777

"I need to stay with you."

That was all Castiel said as the elevator made its way to Dean's floor. Their floor, Dean suddenly thought, and sure enough there was a duffle slumped against the front door when they got there. No explanation was offered to Dean as to how it got past the keycard accessed front foyer and secured lift. With an uplifted brow, Castiel waited patiently for Dean to open the door. Dean fumbled with his keys, his piece of coral key chain twirling as it dangled. There was a flash of white toothy smile when the door opened.

"Excuse me," Castiel muttered as he squeezed past Dean into the doorway, duffle and all.

Dean watched dumbfounded as Castiel dumped his pack in front of the couch and started shrugging off his black leather jacket. He held it out in front of him with a scrutinising eye then went and found a hook in a nook of the hallway. Castiel draped the garment right next to Dean's green hunter's coat. Looking at the two items side by side, Castiel looked thoughtful.

"We can go and pick up my dry cleaning on the way to work, in the morning," Castiel said conversationally. "In the meantime, that'll do."

Dean wondered if Castiel was talking about that beige coat Dean had gifted to him when they first met. The idea he might be right was somehow pleasing. Castiel was sorting through the rest of his personal items one by one, now that he had gotten started. Dean licked his lips as Castiel rifled through pairs of socks (strangely eclectic), a blue jumper, a few white t-shirts and a neatly folded stack of underwear.

"Where are you putting those?"

"Bedroom closet?" Castiel pondered. "I don't intend to live out of a duffle."

"I guess," Dean said slowly, his mouth increasingly dry.

Castiel lifted his eyes, understanding making him smile. "But of course that might not be good for access."

Dean bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. What did that even mean. Did Castiel imply he was going to sleep in Dean's bed? The very thought was paralysingly mind boggling. Or did he mean he would not be able to access his clothing easily because he would be crashing on the couch, since Dean didn't have a guest room? Or did he mean he wanted to move in altogether. Sure they'd been talking to each other everyday and sure Dean was really really into him but was that a bit out of order since they hadn't even been on a date yet? Getting chased by paparazzi or killer Mermen not counting as dates of course.

"You moving in Cas?" Dean defaulted to going to the fridge to grab some beers. It was what he normally did when Sam came to stay unexpectedly. Usually because he had met some sort of set back in his research, or there had been an algal bloom that had decimated a marine sanctuary, or he had just gotten really sunburnt. This didn't exactly feel the same as having Sam over. Sure Castiel was playing it casual but Dean was still pretty sure he was dreaming. Maybe he'd been dreaming for months, dreamt Castiel into existence. Would be more believable than the devastating reality of rebel prince Mer angel currently trying to work the pull out bed on Dean's Ikea couch.

"Don't worry I'll make my stay worth your while."

Dean stared as Castiel fussed with the cushions. Laying the exotic tie dyed pink and purple hued one over the chunky slightly misshapen one Sam knitted for Dean one Christmas. Dean brought his beer to his lips and gulped it nervously. He was getting mixed messages from Castiel all over the place.

"You flip it that way, no this way," Dean put his drink down on a coffee table, forgetting to use a coaster even, and rushed in to help Castiel with a particularly stubborn knob.

Their hands touched and Castiel blinked with concentrated effort.

"Give it a really hard pull," Dean arched his back and with a grunt the sofa springs gave way, unfolding into a slouched shape.