It's In Your Eyes

Irresistible

Castiel's POV -

I wake up curled up tightly on top of the duvet, shivering. My hoodie still zipped up around me, but it does nothing to keep out the icy, morning air here, or preserve body heat. Surely it shouldn't be this cold, this time of year. I push up from the bed and perch on the edge of the mattress.

"Morning me." I say to myself, glancing around the room of sleeping lumps. The clock says it's five o'clock. Not unusual for me to wake up at this time, but most people aren't like that. I pad over to the curtains, slipping behind them and crawling into the deep windowsill, drooping against the cold glass. Outside, it's clear it's been raining, heavily. Everything glistens with due and light drizzle is still spitting down. A heavy mist hangs low to the ground, the sky angry and grey but backlit by the sun. It'll be stormy all day today...

"Hey, Cas..." A groggy voice says next to my ear, my head snapping in it's direction so quickly my neck protests with a sharp, shooting pain. "Whoa dude, sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you." Dean.

He's gruff, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes, his bed-head incredibly cute and, I steel a second to think secretly, incredibly sexy. Without warning, he clambers up next to me, tucking in tight to me like it's the most natural thing in the world to do.

"I'm damn near frozen." He shivers and I can't help but smile into his hair that sticks up in my face. It smells fresh, clean and... A little like peaches. I inhale again, trying to be discrete. Ignore the part of me that doesn't care, that thinks, 'let him hear you'. No good would come of that. He was good enough to accept me without question. Let's not push it.

But everything is so good, so perfect right now. His arm if draped softly over my stomach, the pressure and weight of it welcome, but emphasises the emptiness of me. Hey, maybe I'll eat something today...

The idea seems laughable and, as if on cue, it growls hungrily. Dean laughs softly, his fingers stroking and walking over it, looping round my navel.

"You gunna eat today?" Dean sounds mildly curious, but there's an edge to his voice, like he's genuinely concerned. His fingers keep circling. A third loop. A fourth. A fifth. His hair looks much blonder in this light, less of the brown showing up. A sixth. Seventh.

"Huh? Oh- yeah... I- maybe." My own hands is loosely hooked over his waist, his stomach pressed up to my hip. An eighth loop. I can absently trace the waistband of his boxers just under the bottom of his hoodie.

"Good." He hums, pressing almost undetectably the tiniest, bit closer. Nine loops. Ten. Eleven. His index finger trace up to my chest, his pinkie follows, his thumb rubbing for a brief instant over my nipple and I jump, jolting upright.

Dean moves back, looking at me with an expression that barely passes for confused or surprised. He must realise what he just did. A mistake, but he must realise. I slip off the windowsill and drop to the floor, padding quickly away and out the door, down the corridor, leaving him sitting there on his own.

Dean's POV -

"Shit." What did I just do?

I rub a hand over my face and push it up into my hair, the other pressing against my chest to try and soak up the warmth Castiel's body had left there. What just happened? What did I just do?

I press into the corner of the sill, as close to the wall and window as I can get, starring out of it at the spot we'd sat in last night. I'd accepted him completely without hesitation when I'd realised he was gay. I'd not thought twice, of course. So why, ever since it had came out, could I not stop feeling like such a lie.

There's been a few girls, nice girls, gorgeous and sexy and so so hot. So willing... So why did they pale so drastically and completely in comparison to Cas? I'm not saying I'm gay. Or that I'm attracted to him.

Just everything about him is just so many times more beautiful than anything they'd had to offer. None of their eyes had been as clear, bright and kind as his. None of their noses had crinkled in quite as perfect a way as his does when he laughs. None of their lips looked as impossibly... Impossibly...

"Irresistible."

Yes. Wait- I didn't say that. I look round and come face to face with my best redhead. She smirks, mocking me and how I look. She presses her nose against the glass, crouched on the roof, grinning when my expression is no doubt that of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But instead of a cookie jar, it's sort of my... Head. Just my crazy brain. And instead of a hand it's... Cas.

"Gunna let me in or not?" Charlie taps on the glass quietly but impatiently. I just nod and move back to open the window a crack to let her squeeze in. She peeks through the curtains at the sleeping boys and pulls back a second later, grimacing. "Here, boys are disgusting. All drooly and slobbery in your sleep." She laughs, but it drops away, tinny and empty, then gone, when she takes in my blank face. I'm seriously struggling with this. I know I should talk about it with someone. And who better than Charlie? But... But.

"Charlie, I-" I stop short, very short, of the important part, but she looks at me carefully, steady and desperately caring.

"What is it, Dean?" She asks, wrapping my hand in her's, pressing it between her palms and lacing her fingers. Just like I had last night. I pull my hands away, to my chest, thinking... "God, Dean. Really. What's wrong?"