Archive of Our Own ^beta

"They’re going to hate me."

"No they’re not."

The pen that Cas is chewing clatters loudly onto the table in front of him. His shoulders slump and he sits back in his chair to press his fingers to his eyes.

Dean’s chewing slows, observing his friend. He swallows the ice-cream in his mouth and slides into the seat beside Cas, facing his friend sideways, and settles the tub between his thighs.  

"What’re you worried about?"

Castiel sighs. Dean’s brows pinch.

"I don’t know. It’s just-" he gestures to the papers sprawled out in front of him. "I know it’s only an interview but my portfolio’s a mess and I’m not sure if I even deserve to be an intern at such a prestigious firm."

"Okay, hold up." Dean says, holding up the plastic spoon, pausing Cas. "Your portfolio’s a fucking masterpiece-"

Castiel scoffs.

"No, don’t do that shit with me, okay. Your work’s fucking amazing. And I’ll admit, I don’t know the first thing about architecture-

"Constructional design."

"Fine, constructional design, smartass." Castiel quirks a smile at that.

He drops the spoon in the tub and places a reassuring hand on Cas’ knee. The other boy looks at him and Dean smiles.

"You’ll be fine, Cas." His tone is warm and steady. Trustworthy. There’s enough fierce belief in his soft gaze that for a moment, the underlying trickle of nervous doubt that thrums under his skin disappears.

Castiel returns the smile.

"And besides-"

Dean lifts his palm and the nervousness returns. He picks up the spoon and slides it through his lips once more, licking off the excess ice-cream. There’s a short pause, a thoughtful look, and then he leans in and taps it against the middle of Castiel’s forehead that blue eyes roll up to meet, and stands.

"-you’re a fucking genius."

-X-x-X-

Dean’s flicking through an auto-mechanics magazine on the couch, socked feet kicked up on the coffee table, when he hears the key turn in the lock.

"So?" Is the first question out of his mouth as Cas shuts the front door and leans back against it, shoulders slumping.

They stare at each other tentatively for a moment.

The smile on Cas’ face starts off small, unnoticeable to anyone who isn’t Dean, but he’s hugging Cas just as the other boy takes two steps into the apartment.  

"Congratulations, man." he says beside Cas’ ear, squeezing his arms around Cas.

"Thank you."

It’s gets quiet after that. There’s no traffic outside. The squeaky sink tap doesn’t drip. The apartment doesn’t creak. The dog from next door doesn’t bark.

There’s nothing.

Except their steady breathing and even steadier beating of their hearts. Dean’s hands run up into the other’s hair and Cas’ run down his back to squeeze at his waist.

It’s comfortable.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Terrifying to feel this at home in somebody else’s arms. Torso’s pressed together, barely an inch to breathe, and yet to feel like you could stay this way for longer than is deemed acceptable.

"Aww-" Sam’s voice coos from behind them. "-you guys gonna stand there all day? Or move so I can leave?"

They flinch away awkwardly, Dean patting Cas’ shoulder as he wanders towards the couch again. As soon as Sam shuts the door, Castiel stands there for a moment, Dean can feel the intensity of the blue-eyed gaze on the back of his head as he plonks down on the couch again.

Thankfully, he decides against it and leaves towards his bedroom at the end of the hall.

Dean lets out the breath he’s been holding and glances towards the direction Cas left in.

Fuck.

-X-x-X-

"Crap, where are my keys?" Castiel stresses as he whizzes frantically around the apartment collecting his things.

"Take mine, they’re in the bowl. Sam’s home all day anyway." Dean offers, flipping the pancakes carefully. He’s decided it would be safer to stay out of Hurricane Novak’s way this morning – he wants to be alive enough to eat these delicious pancakes. Cas hair is frazzled, glasses barely hanging off the edge of his nose, A3 sized portfolio gripped under his arm, almost knocking a plate of freshly made pancakes off the counter, before Dean grabs the plate and internally praises himself on his ninja skills.

He sprinkles sugar on the top one before wrapping it in a paper towel. Castiel grabs everything he needs and is already at the door before Dean’s telling him to wait.

"I haven’t got time for this, Dean. I’m going to be late. What is it?" He spews out, words jumbling because he’s talking so fast.

Dean hands him the paper towel with the pancake inside.

"Eat it on the way – don’t look at me like, just shove it down your gullet."

He pushes Cas’ glasses all the way up his nose so they rest comfortably on the bridge of his nose.

"You’ve already got the job."  

He runs a taming hand through Cas’ hair, trying to make it look professional.

"Breathe, Cas."

His fingers run down to straighten and fix the blue tie hanging haphazardly from around Cas’ neck. He can feel Cas’ breathing slowing, can feel it steadying out from the rise and fall of his chest. He smooths down the length of the material, ironing out creases, when he’s reminded of their proximity just last night… and how it’s exactly the same now. His insides do something funny when he realises how domestic this is. Pointedly ignoring the way his heart jumps, he drops his hands quickly to smile up at big, blue eyes.

"Have a good day at work." He offers, voice gentler than he’d like.

Castiel nods, takes one last deep breath before biting into the pancake in his hand, and opening the door.

"Mm, this is amazing by the way."

And then he’s gone, and Dean’s left staring at the closed apartment door.

Yeah Dean thinks, so are y-

"Wow."

Dean whirls around to see a slightly surprised look on his brother’s face. The little shit is standing there shoving a pancake in his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing." Sam shrugs, grabs another pancake off the plate, and flops down on the couch to flick on the TV.

"No, seriously. What?"

There’s no response. Dean drops it and wanders back into their kitchenette to finish off their breakfast.

He ignores the fact that he knows what Sam was going to say anyway; pushes it deep enough inside him that when Cas comes back from work that evening, he’s able to hand him a beer and offer to talk about his first day – trying to look over the fact that their hands brush softly and that their thighs press together warmly when they sit on the couch. He flicks on the TV while Cas talks, nodding in the right places, and takes a long gulp from his bottle, all so that Cas can’t see that his heart’s in his throat.