All Night Long (1/3)
No, Castiel thought as that instantly-recognisable guitar riff started playing at full volume in the room next to his.
Please, no, he inwardly begged as the drum kicked in and Dean’s bed-springs began creaking.
"Not tonight," he groaned as Brian Johnson started singing and his roommate’s guest started moaning.
Castiel didn’t care if the person Dean had brought back was ‘a fast machine’, he just wanted one quiet Saturday night in. Some friends he had complained to about Dean’s antics said that Castiel was merely jealous that his roommate was getting more action, but it wasn’t about that at all.
He almost wanted to find out how they liked it when the same AC/DC song blared through their thin walls every other night, not to mention the loud moans coupled with it.
Bending his pillow around his head in a makeshift pair of earmuffs, Castiel screwed his eyes shut as he tried not to think about his roommate getting screwed, and tuned out the muffled creaks and keens. If it went on all night long, like the damn song promised, then Castiel would have to Gilda’s across the hall - that was if Gilda wasn’t been shook all night long too by her girlfriend.
Sometimes, Castiel resented answering the ad looking for a roommate in The Herald.
Thankfully after a few songs (all AC/DC; apparently Dean found he performed best to them), the playlist was switched off, and Castiel got his reprieve. All he heard from then on was the occasional resonating murmur of Dean’s deep voice, and not for the first time, Castiel drifted off to it.
The smell of bacon floated through the gap under his door, and Castiel woke sniffing the air.
Bleary-eyed, he padded out into the kitchen, finding Dean in front of the stove. With a yawn, he sat heavily at the breakfast bar and rested his cheek in his palm. Castiel almost fell back to sleep, but the clattering of a plate startled him wide awake.
"I hate you," he croaked at Dean.
Dean smirked and tonged a couple of rashers onto Castiel’s plate. “No you don’t.”
Hash browns and baked beans joined the bacon, and holding his hands out for cutlery, Castiel glared at his roommate.
"Well, I hated you last night," he rectified.
"Sorry," Dean shrugged and said with no hint of an apology in his tone. Under his breath, he added, "Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me."
Castiel raised his eyebrows in mid-cut of a hash brown. “Excuse me?”
"I’m just sayin’," Dean shrugged again. "You need to get laid, Cas. Pronto. You’re grumpy and it’s cramping my style.”
"Who needs to get laid?" a throaty purr of a voice asked before Castiel could protest.
The voice belonged to Dean’s latest lay, a girl Castiel hadn’t met before, and she was wearing nothing but one of Dean’s dress shirts. Castiel raised just one brow at that. Those shirts were in the deepest recesses of Dean’s closet, and he certainly hadn’t gone out wearing it.
Dean jerked the tongs in Castiel’s direction before winding an arm around his guest’s back.
"My buddy Cas here."
The girl thought for a moment while Castiel bristled, and slid a hand up the front of Dean’s sleep tee.
"Well Cas," she started, and Castiel immediately didn’t like her, just because she used Dean’s nickname for him, even if he was fully aware that she didn’t know any different. "What’s your poison? Girls? Guys? Both? Neither?"
Castiel chewed for a few seconds, then swallowed when he saw fit to answer the question she had no business in asking.
"I like anyone, so long as I find them interesting and they can make me laugh."
"Which, believe me, is no easy task," Dean muttered in his guest’s ear (in what Castiel recognised to be his ‘sexy’ voice), winking at his roommate when she giggled.
"I hate you," repeated Castiel, maintaining his less-than-sunny demeanour when Dean laughed and strode over.
"I know, buddy."
Kissing the top of Castiel’s head and ruffling his already ruffled hair, Dean then led the girl back to his room, her strawberry blonde hair fanning out as she turned and near skipped back to bed.
As the opening bars of the worst song in the world began, Castiel belatedly realised that Dean had only made one breakfast - Castiel’s. And plans hadn’t been made for two more, either.
He hummed. Maybe he didn’t hate Dean so much after all.
Upon having to hear the rest of the song alongside hushed moans, Castiel decided that actually yes; he hated Dean Winchester very much.
Castiel walked through the front door, keys jangling from the ring looped on his finger, and thanked the Lord when he heard nothing but the buzz of the fridge. With a skip in his step, he grabbed yesterday’s leftovers from it and sat at the table, munching away quite happily.
He had to cherish the quiet when he could.
In fact, the reason he was so happily cherishing the quiet that night was because it had been quiet for the previous six nights. Castiel kept opening the door bracing himself to hear the playlist, but he was only met with silence, or with the sound of the TV on and forgotten about.
Castiel’s content chewing was interrupted by thoughts of why Dean hadn’t been playing his signature song while getting it on with some stranger. He wasn’t sick, as he wasn’t weakly demanding soup, so what was it? Had Dean lost his famous touch?
When Castiel finished his meal, he toed over to Dean’s room and knocked on the door. A grunt granted him entry.
Dean was laying tummy-down on his bed, reading by lamplight. The room smelled stale, like the function of an opening window had eluded him, and the drapes were closed though it was still light outside.
“Dean?” Castiel said in a small voice. “Are you alright?”
After a few seconds, Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, and in general he reminded Castiel of a deer caught in headlights.
“Hey, Cas. I’m, uh, good, yeah...good. Thanks.” Dean sounded dazed, and was switching between blinking too much and then not at all.
Castiel frowned in concern. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, just...caught up in stuff,” replied his roommate, sitting up and turning his book over, steepling his place. Dean rubbed his eyes, and his lips curled into half a smile.
“Were you worried about me?” he asked, surprised. When Castiel said nothing, Dean smiled fully, lighting up the dim room. “Aww, Cas, that’s sweet.”
Making the few steps to seat himself in Dean’s computer chair, Castiel rolled his eyes and remarked, “I was only asking because I haven’t heard you...entertain in a while.”
Dean laughed, a tiny thing, and clapped a hand on Castiel’s knee.
“You miss hearing me have sex?”
“No,” Castiel scowled. “Definitely not.”
“You totally do.” The remnants of Dean’s laugh still hung on his lips, and his hand still lingered on Castiel’s knee. “You…” he started whisper-singing, “shook me all night long!”
Castiel’s scowl deepened. “Stop that right now, Dean.”
“Yeah you-u-u, shook me all night lo-o-ong!”
“I hate that song and I hate you.”
Dean grinned and bounced off his bed to shake his ass and continue singing, “I’m working double time on the seduction line, Cas is one of a kind, and he’s just mine all mine!”
Averting his eyes as Dean paraded in front of him, Castiel covered his ears and pouted. However, his ears weren’t protected for long as Dean threaded his fingers through Castiel’s and held their hands out to the sides as he clambered on Castiel’s lap and straddled it, still singing, albeit a little out of tune.
“Wanted no applause, it’s just another course. Made a meal outta me, and came back for more…”
He sang the rest of the verse, and by the chorus, Castiel was laughing at Dean’s over-the-top writhing and air-guitar playing, and was slightly fascinated by the way his mouth moved around the lyrics like it was making love to them. When Dean leaned away after his big finish, arms thrown up and head tipped back, Castiel had no choice but to wrap his arms around Dean’s torso so he wouldn’t fall off the chair.
Dean swayed forward again, as though his and Castiel’s hearts were magnets, and smirked, catching his breath through his flaring nostrils.
“Are you done?” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean and hoping he sounded more bored that he felt.
“Yep,” answered Dean, showing his teeth in victory.
Rolling his eyes and sounding a little too fond, Castiel muttered, “I hate you, Dean Winchester.”
“You say that so much, I’m beginning to think you mean the other thing.”
Dean winked, then ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, dirty fingernails scraping the base of the dark mess, and patted his stubbly cheeks with the corner of his lip quirked.
“No, I definitely mean that I hate you,” Castiel said without conviction.
“Then I hate you too, buddy,” Dean said with the same amount of conviction.
Sliding off of Castiel’s lap, Dean retreated to his bed, his back to the wall, and looked just about ready to purr, he was so pleased with himself. He tapped the spot next to him, inviting Castiel to join him, and when Castiel did, he leaned his head on his shoulder. His head was an almost comforting weight in the dip of Castiel’s shoulder, and grew heavier when Dean exhaled.
“It’s just the adios, you know? Always the adios,” Dean murmured, so quiet it was barely heard.
“The adios?”
“Yeah, you know - you get drunk, shack up, then say ‘hey, that was fun’ in the morning, and then ‘adios’. I mean, the sex is good, like really good, but sometimes it just makes me feel bad.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Dean snorted, but Castiel didn’t think it was in humour.
“‘S why I’ve been layin’ off getting laid, ‘cause I don’t know, it kinda makes me feel like crap,” he said lowly, though no one would overhear.
“Maybe you need to find someone you don’t have to say adios to.”
Dean shrugged and scratched his nose. “Maybe.”
They stayed like that for only a few moments longer, a whirring mind resting on a strong shoulder, and Dean only sat straight and ushered Castiel out with a small smile when he declared he wanted to read again. Castiel didn’t mind the urgency in which he was asked to leave. It was just how Dean was. He’d done this before, telling Castiel something rather intimate and then panicking and shutting him out. Last time, Dean bolted after shamefully admitting that a girl had made him try on her panties, and that he’d liked it. He didn’t talk to Castiel for three days after that..
Dean wasn’t amused when he’d said a bashful ‘hey’ to Castiel and Castiel referred to it as the second coming of Jesus.
But now Castiel knew that Dean desired a longer companionship than one that lasted one night, a plan began to form. One that wouldn’t involve the playing of a certain song for a good while.
He was going to find his roommate a date.