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“What the hell?” Dean frowns, glancing around the empty hallway then back down at the ball of black fluff snuffling at his bare toes. “Where did you come from?”
The fluff ball squeaks in response.
Dean has only lived in this apartment for a few weeks, but he’s relatively certain none of his neighbors are guinea pigs. The guy in seven might be a total fox, and Dean is pretty sure the ginger in three is a cat at least half the time, but he’s seen no evidence of guinea pigs roaming the halls.
Until now, that is.
Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be napping, Dean can’t just leave a defenseless little animal to wander around alone. Sighing at his inability to ignore a living thing in need, Dean squats down and makes eye contact with the little bastard. Round, red eyes sparkle back at him.
“I’m gonna pick you up,” he tells the guinea pig. “You bite me and you’re on your own, capiche?”
It squeaks again, but seems agreeable enough. Dean puts his hand down for it to sniff. The guinea pig snuffles at him warily, but then apparently decides Dean is good people because it climbs into his open palm and makes happy chittering noises.
“What am I supposed to do with you now?” Dean asks, cradling the guinea pig close to his chest as he stands. “Somebody has to be looking for you. Guinea pigs don’t just run wild, even in Kansas.”
Deciding that his best course of action is to start knocking on doors, Dean carries the guinea pig inside with him while he looks for his slippers. He’s just slipping his feet into them when he hears a door slam down the hall, immediately followed by what Dean can only assume are supposed to be guinea pig noises.
He makes his way back to the door and cracks it open. The fox from seven is on his hands and knees, frantically searching every nook and cranny while making the most absurdly adorable guinea pig-esque sounds. His dark hair is a wind-swept mess, his crystalline blue eyes brimming with concern.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you, Fergus,” he mutters between clicks of his tongue against his teeth. “You’re right, of course -- I do need to get out more.”
Dean bites the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. “You lose something, buddy?”
The other man jumps and looks up, cheeks flooding pink when he sees Dean watching him. His eyes track down Dean’s body like they can’t help it, but they get caught around his hands. The guy launches himself up off the floor and down the hall.
“You found him! Oh my god, you’re my hero,” he gushes, throwing his arms around Dean before either of them can think better of it.
“He found me, actually,” Dean explains awkwardly as his neighbor releases him and goes for the guinea pig instead. “I was just about to take him around, see if anyone claimed him.”
“Seriously, thank you.” The guy beams at him with all the power of the sun. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
Suddenly feeling bashful under the wave of praise, Dean rubs at the back of his neck with one hand and scritches Fergus between the ears with the other. “I’m just glad I found him before the cat did,” he says dismissively.
His neighbor’s eyes widen with horror. “She wouldn’t.”
“She’s a cat, man,” Dean chuckles. “It’s kinda what they do.”
Tucking Fergus closer to his body, the guy glances around like the cat is going to leap out of nowhere and steal the guinea pig right out of his hands. “Perhaps I should buy a lock for Fergus’ enclosure.”
“You might want to consider it,” Dean agrees. “Maybe it’ll stop him from Houdini-ing his way out.”
They linger in silence, his neighbor stroking the guinea pig absently until Dean clears his throat.
“I’m Dean, by the way,” he says, extending a hand between them. “I just moved in a--”
“A few weeks ago, yes,” his neighbor finishes, shaking the hand Dean offers. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I meant to when I saw you moving in, but you were fighting with your boyfriend and I didn’t want to intrude.”
Dean balks. “Boyfriend?”
“The bearded gentlemen, with the southern accent?”
“Oh, you mean Benny,” Dean supplies. “Definitely not my boyfriend. Not anymore, anyway.”
“Oh,” the other man says, almost sounding relieved. “I’m sorry I assumed.”
The fact that he assumed anything about Dean’s relationship status means he cared enough to even think about it, which means maybe Dean isn’t the only one who’s noticed there’s a hot guy living just a few doors down.
“Do you want to come in?” he offers suddenly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I was gonna fix something for lunch, if you’re hungry?”
His neighbor seems to weigh his options for a moment, before nodding. “I could eat,” he says. “I’ll go get Fergus settled back in and be back in… ten minutes?”
Dean grins, pleased. “You like burgers?”
“Love them.”
“Then ten it is.”
***
“You ever gonna tell me your name?”
His neighbor rolls over and throws a leg across Dean’s hips, pillowing his head on the steady rise and fall of Dean’s chest. The sun went down hours ago, the bedroom floor drenched in silver moonlight that spills in through the curtains Dean forgot to close, but they never did get around to eating those burgers.
“Castiel.” He presses a kiss above Dean’s heart. “My name is Castiel.”
“Castiel,” Dean repeats, weighing the sound of it on his tongue while running his fingers through thick, dark locks. “Did your parents hate you?”
Deep, rumbling laughter fills the dark bedroom. “Maybe,” Castiel says, snuggling closer. “Not as much as they hated my brother, Lucifer.”
Dean can’t help the laugh that’s surprised out of him. “Seriously?”
“They were very religious people.”
“Still.”
Dean starts drifting again, but Castiel’s voice pulls him back up. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Cas.”
“Should I go home?”
Dean’s arms tighten around him of their own accord. “You can if you want to,” he tells Cas sleepily. “But I would really, really like it if you stayed.”
“Good,” Cas whispers back, slipping his hand between Dean’s legs and gently trailing one finger over his hole. “Because I have another idea.”