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changing my major

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College is supposed to change you, sure. Castiel knew that going in, he expected the typical experience of finding new friends and going through a short period of self-discovery that might end with a tattoo he’d regret later. He absolutely did not expect to be… here.  

Here being in bed with Dean Winchester, who he had thought was the type of guy that would never give Cas the time of day. It all started with some presentation for a class project, thoroughly professional. Dean was the type of intelligent that made you feel guilty for having assumed he wouldn’t be. His jokes, flirtations, and casual demeanor suited him well, but Castiel really became enamored with the parts of Dean he wasn’t as loud about; the way his eyes crinkled in the corner when he smiled, his complete dedication to his work, the way he made little things seem so important.

It was that last tendency of his that got the pair of them started on the path towards Dean’s bed. They had received their grade on the presentation on a Friday, and Cas had been too nervous to text Dean and congratulate him, and Dean didn’t reach out either. Their next class was on a Tuesday, and as soon as it wrapped up, Castiel found himself face to face with Dean and the biggest smile anyone had ever directed at him. Dean had pulled him up out of his seat and into a hug and insisted that he come out to celebrate, just the two of them.  

That had taken him back, not in a bad way; Dean just surprised him, that’s all. Castiel had let his little crush on Dean grow over the last few weeks while they worked together, but he really had only done so out of boredom. He didn’t actually think Dean would ever notice him outside of an assigned project, and tiny, harmless crushes could be fun.  

Castiel had been pretty sure there would be no natural conclusion to the feelings; Dean was older and popular and so gorgeous that he could have anyone, so why should Cas think that’d be him? Why did Cas want it to be? He had truly never been attracted to anyone like this, and it made his heart leap against his ribcage, pounding in Castiel’s ears.  

It wasn’t that Cas had thought he was straight as much as he hadn’t… Thought much. About it at all. Until Dean (and his confident smile and flirty teasing and pink lips and sparkling green eyes and hair that, honest to God, glowed a beautiful gold in the sunlight and his incredibly long eyelashes and again, that flirty teasing) showed up, Castiel hadn’t had a genuine interest in anyone. Even just those stolen few hours in the library while working on the project were enough to confirm Castiel’s sexuality, and that had been before they were inches apart and sharing sips of each other’s drinks. And that had been before Dean pressed against him outside the bar, the taste of Castiel’s cosmo on his lips. And Castiel was 100% positive that none of that, nothing ever would compare to the way that Dean had whispered ‘ Come home with me’  in his ear.  

They had rushed to the dorms, to Dean’s solo room, often stopping to pull the other against a wall or a door or the side of the elevator at every chance, the magnetism between them too much to resist. Once in Dean’s room, in Dean’s bed, Cas had admitted it was his first time, and Dean had been incredible about it, taking his time and making Castiel feel cherished and wanted.  

Cas decided quickly he never wanted to leave the room, leave Dean’s arms, regardless of the consequences. He was entirely ready to become recluses, skipping classes to instead study each other, taking notes on how the morning sun grazed Dean’s skin through the cheap blinds, writing essays on the exquisite torture of Dean kissing up his thighs, over his hips. Cas thought he understood what it felt like to want, but he had never been hit with such an unending hunger.  

He heard Dean’s name on repeat in his head, nearly a prayer. Prayer felt fitting; Cas certainly had felt holy in Dean’s arms. He wanted to write psalms, scriptures, hymns, wanted everything of his to be Dean’s, wanted all of  Dean to be his, and somehow, last night, he had been allowed that. They had each other; they shared each other; Dean’s beautiful gasps and quiet, hushed words of praise were only for Cas. The way Cas’s hands went from shaking with nerves to trembling and grasping and feeling and taking was only for Dean. Castiel’s eager touch had eventually melted away into careful worship, touching Dean the way he thought he never could, being handled with nearly the same amount of reverence. 

Dean never laughed at any unsteady movement or seemed bothered by Castiel’s inexperience, and he had only laughed a little bit when Castiel became overwhelmed with emotion during his post-orgasm haze and started running off at the mouth about how beautiful and perfect and good Dean is. Cas had stopped, his cheeks flushed red, but Dean just tugged him incrementally closer against his frame and kissed gently down his cheek to his neck, nuzzling into the skin there to hide his face when Dean called him adorable. 

Dean was still asleep next to him, and Cas was staring so hard he worried he would wake Dean. Dean really is beautiful, Cas had been drunk on pleasure and emotion and a cosmo when he had said it last night, but he meant it. His eyelashes were golden at the tips like they’d been dipped in light. From this closely, Cas could see them flutter slightly with his own soft exhales. Dean’s face was relaxed. He looked serene, the way his lips fell open slightly, and every muscle was loose. 

When Castiel had opened his eyes after waking, he was immediately met with the sight of Dean, less than a foot away, curled towards him on the bed. Cas was embarrassed, slightly unsure if he should leave now or wait until Dean woke up. Just because Dean had dealt with his fumbling virginity last night doesn’t mean he signed up to deal with Castiel awkward and nervous in the morning too. He didn’t know how to deal with any of this stuff - the conventions of sex and casual hookups - and it wasn’t exactly like he could wake Dean up and ask him if he was actually wanted here or if he let him stay out of pity or convenience or... 

Castiel’s thoughts trailed off towards panic, and he pulled them back, pulled his focus towards Dean, just Dean, laying here safe and comfortable. He felt a pang of longing as he took at the moment, wishing it was his hand trailing over Dean’s form and not just his gaze, hoping he could have this all the time. Just as that thought entered Castiel's mind, Dean let out a snuffling sigh and snuggled closer, a sleep-heavy arm flopping over Cas’s chest where he lay on his back. Cas froze, terrified he would be somehow caught staring, though Dean was the one who was incrementally moving closer until he hitched his arm around Cas and tugged him the final few inches.  

Dean nuzzled his face into Castiel’s neck with the sweetest noise of contentment, and his fingers tightened their grip around Cas’s side for just a moment before relaxing again. Castiel felt warm air ghosting over his throat; Dean’s lips were just barely pressed against Cas’s skin, and with each exhale, Castiel felt himself drifting back to sleep. He hadn’t even thought he was tired before; his brain was racing too quickly with  Dean and last night and right now. But with Dean practically radiating his comforting warmth, a slow, sleepy breath washing over him, Cas couldn’t remember what the point of being awake was.