Chapter Text
Carrying a cardboard box, Dean Winchester stepped into Cas’s dorm room and shut the door behind him. His sandy hair had been made messy by the wind and he had a fallen leaf on the shoulder of his grey Henley, which absolutely infuriated Cas for reasons unknown.
“Just keep to your side of the room and we’ll be fine,” Cas grumbled, his heart already picking up speed.
Dean dropped a cardboard box down on the bed by the small window. “Great – I can just pee in this corner.” He glanced at the bathroom door that was on Cas’s designated side of the room.
“Suit yourself.” Cas shrugged.
When Gabriel dropped out last minute to go on a mission trip to Ecuador, Cas had no idea it would mean rooming with the quarterback of the football team, his sworn enemy since freshman year.
Dean leaned back on the mattress and reclined his head against the white concrete wall. “God, I can’t believe I’m stuck with a church boy.”
Cas shoved his large textbook into his messenger bag. “It’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, and if it escaped that enormous brain of yours, this is a Christian university. You throw a stick around here you’re going to hit a ‘church boy’”
“Well, whatever. If I don’t have any friends, neither do you, preacher,” Dean spat.
Cas dropped his messenger bag on his chair. “Screw you.”
“Are preachers even allowed to say ‘screw you’? Do you need to do hail Mary’s or some shit now?”
“First, I’m not a preacher,” Cas stomped closer to where Dean still sat on the bed, seemingly unaffected, that leaf still perched on his shoulder. “Second, it’s a lot better than what I was thinking in my head. Third, we’re protestants. We don’t do hail Mary’s. In three years, have you ever even been to chapel? It’s required, you know.”
“It’s not required if you bribe Maureen.” Dean’s lips curled into a smirk that had Cas thinking about punching things.
“Who’s Maureen?” Cas’s face went hot. Only Dean Winchester could piss him off this badly.
“The lovely woman who takes chapel attendance. That reminds me I need to ask her how her son’s piano recital went.”
Cas groaned and pulled at his hair. “Why do you even go to this school?”
“Well, it wasn’t for the slimy caf food and the pleasant company I can tell you that.” Dean let out a short laugh.
“You know what, Winchester?” Cas tossed his bag onto his shoulder and wrapped a thick blue scarf around his neck. “I’m going to be late for Advanced Aramaic. Have fun in, what class do you have, right now? Fingerpainting?”
“Yeah, and let me show you what else I can do with my fingers.” Scowling, Dean flipped off Cas. Cas threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
This was going to be the longest, worst year of Cas’s life. Thank God it was his last year and in May, he’d never, ever have to see Dean Winchester ever again.