#post-college

“Do you know him from a prior project?”

He was saved from answering as the finance people were finally able to get the internet running and started their PowerPoint to remind them again that budgeting was a thing and that no, they weren’t allowed to make changes just because.

Was everyone keen on destroying his architectural spirit today? The wood he proposed for the panel in the lobby wasn’t that much pricier than the one they had thought of before. He had cranked about the numbers himself and knew that his proposal was solid.

He listened on, put the pencil aside, crossed his arms and made the mistake of looking up.

Of course, he was being watched.

Their eyes met for a second, the air started to charge up and Pran couldn’t hold contact especially because it was accompanied by a damn smirk and yes, maybe he had almost thrown the table and he would like to almost do it again.

And why was he sprawled in that chair like the room was his little kingdom, not a care for the world or the presentation, his eyes on Pran, his deep brown glittering eyes and that damn smirk? What was there to smirk about? That Pran was ready to throw furniture at him?

For the record: the staircase wasn’t an unreasonable and potentially risky project. What even was potentially risky? Either it was risky or not.

Pran moved his head, controlled but annoyed because he was still staring and even cheeky enough to put his head on his hand like he was back in school and not in an important meeting.

Unprofessional.

“’You ready?”

Pran almost startled out of his chair and realized that the meeting had ended, and everyone gathered their stuff.

He quickly nodded at Ford and picked up his pen and notebook.

“Do you have another meeting now, too?”, Ford asked him and Pran felt lucky that he could answer no, and he had no idea what Ford said after that because Pat, junior engineer, and a thorn in his side, had the audacity to still lounge in his chair, watch him leave and wink at him.

A freaking wink, he was going to…

“Are you listening?”

Ford put his hand on his back to stop him from blocking the door and Pran more or less stumbled out of the conference room.

“Sorry”, he said and indicated a Wai. Ford was not only a colleague but a senior and normally Pran loved being on a team with him, but this meeting had frazzled his nerves. It wasn’t like it was the first time one of his ideas had been challenged by the engineering department, but that the critic had come from Pat of all people annoyed him.

Unreasonable staircase.

They needed to go from one floor to the other, what was unreasonable about that?

They said their goodbyes to the rest of the team and while Ford went to another conference room Pran followed his other colleagues back to their offices. The construction company they worked for was sensible enough to separate the architects and engineers spatially that was why he didn’t catch another glimpse of Pat’s face while they walked through the corridors of their workplace.

Which was Pat’s luck because Pran had already constructed a debate in his head about the topic of the staircase and he was now in the yelling part of their discussion. In his imagination, he was busting Pat’s ass with his arguments.

He arrived at his desk with the satisfaction of an imaginary win and was ready to tackle his commute with more emotional stability, but when he turned around a bunch of interns with notepads had lined up and he remembered that he had promised to help them with their midterm projects.

Every year he had the feeling they got younger. It wasn’t that long ago that he had been in their position, and he asked himself if he really had been as young and excited as them?

That was the reason why he got home late, and he briefly put his head on the cool surface of the door before he turned the key because he felt a headache forming from his neck. The flat was dark and he slipped out of his shoes to the little wheezing sound of the air-con and as he wanted to put his bag away, he heard the water running.

His annoyance came back like a freight train as if it had waited in a little box in the corner of his brain and was now ready to step back into the light.

He threw his bag on the couch and power-walked through his living room towards the bedroom and into the bathroom. The person under the shower was just a hazy outline behind the fogged-up glass and when Pran pulled the shower door open Pat let out a high-pitched scream.

They stared at each other for a moment, little sprays of water started to soak Pran’s shirt and then, with a hand over his heart Pat said: “What the hell?”

“Unreasonable and potential risky staircase?”, Pran quoted back at him, and Pat’s shocked face morphed quickly into disbelief.

“What is potentially risky? Did you open a dictionary and make a list of words you didn’t know?”

“Are you serious?”

“My staircase is perfect and neither unreasonable nor risky.” That had sounded more mature in his head and not like he was defending a wonky sandcastle, but anyway. He clicked his tongue dismissively and made a gesture with his hand that he knew would annoy Pat before he walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey!”, Pat yelled after him and not shortly after, he heard the tip-tap of Pat’s naked feet on the floor.

Pran waited for him in the bedroom, his hands stemmed in his sides, and he did a short double-take when he saw that Pat had followed him butt-naked.

“It was just a note on how you maybe want to consider the static in your staircase project,” Pat said, all glittering dark eyes and easy smile. Pat was still a few centimetres shorter than him, so he raised his chin and rocked back on his heels. He refused to be swayed by the display of naked skin and for what did Pat need those broad shoulders and arms anyway?

“Are you suggesting I don’t know about static? I know about static.”

Pat looked away for a second as if he couldn’t believe what they were talking about.

“Your staircase design looks… very nice,” he said in that tone of voice that Pran knew was supposed to mellow him. He squinted at Pat.

“But we’re talking about a building for the general public, the amount of people who will use that staircase is too much for what you have in mind.”

Pran regretted that he had his hands on his hips already because all he could do was huff. He decided to change tactics.

“You are dripping all over the floor,” he said and both of them looked down at Pat’s feet where a little pool of water had formed.

“I do,” Pat agreed and Pran couldn’t even yell ‘Hey’ when he saw the familiar mischief in Pat’s eye, he was already engulfed in Pat’s arms, pressed against a wet and naked body and to top it all off Pat rubbed his face on his cheek, his wet hair slapping against Pran’s eyes.

“You forgot to shave,” he mumbled in Pat’s ear and felt Pat’s warm laughter through his whole body.

“You aren’t really pissed about the staircase,” Pat said and Pran decided to remain silent. Goosebumps broke out over his whole body, and he knew that Pat had to feel cold already with the air-con on full blast. It needed all his willpower to not put his hands on the skin of his boyfriend to rub some warmth into him.

“Are you angry I didn’t tell you I would be part of the project even though I didn’t know myself until I got the email this morning when you were already gone?”

Pran considered.

“When this morning?”

“9ish.”

Pran realized his hands moved on autopilot from Pat’s tailbone over his spine to his shoulders and back again. They were nice shoulders. He put his chin on them and now they were hugging in earnest.

“The staircase might be lacking a bit… when you consider the static,” he murmured into Pat’s skin and enjoyed the whole-body laugh his concession caused. It felt like Pat’s joy travelled over to him, blooming like a flower made of light in his chest, and he couldn’t suppress a smile anymore.

“But your staircase is very aesthetically pleasing.”

“Right?” It was a very nice design. He knew Pat would see that.

“We could drive to work together,” he added and refused to let go when Pat moved back to look at him. They were pressed together from their legs to their chest and really, Pat had to feel chilly by now. Pran felt more and more uncomfortable in his wet clothes.

“Are you sure you would be able to wait for me without trying to get me out of bed earlier than necessary?”

Pran pursed his lips and there was a bit of a downside to dating someone who knew you inside and out. The difference in how they approached getting ready hadn’t changed much in all the years.

But Pat looked at him with stars in his eyes, his smile wide and like he was delighted by Pran’s sheer presence. Pran was still not used to being looked at like that.

Getting frustrated at Pat’s ‘morning routine’ could wait until it happened, he decided and stepped back to grab Pat’s hand.

“Shower,” he said and if there was something he loved as much as getting his hands all over Pat’s body it was confusing him.

“What?”, but Pat let himself be pulled.

“Shower, now!”, Pran ordered and started to unbutton his shirt. Seconds later there were eager hands next to his to help him.

He’s staring into his closet trying to decide what to wear when his eyes wander to the box on his top shelf. He ends up pulling on one of his softer Henleys and a pair of worn sweatpants before pulling the box down and setting it on the hardwood floor. He takes a seat in front of it, smiling softly to himself as he pulls the lid off and sets it aside. Right on top is the picture of him and Cas from graduation. Dean’s mother had taken it just after the ceremony, as evidenced by the fact that their tassels are on the left. It’s one of his favorite pictures of them. The day itself had been insanely stressful, but having Cas right there with him, and both of their families there to celebrate their graduation had been amazing. He brushes a thumb over the picture before picking it up and setting it on the lid gently. Next on the pile are their tickets from the Kaleo concert they’d taken a road trip to shortly after graduation. They’d gone back to Kansas with their families and driven all the way to LA for the concert. The road trip itself was probably more fun than the concert, if he’s being honest with himself, and he can’t wait to find the polaroids from the car trip. With the tickets set aside, he digs his cap and gown out to get them out of the way. He sees the corner of one of the car trip polaroids on the very bottom on the box, but he forces himself to go through the rest and end on some of the best memories. The assortment of Broadway playbills is next. Cas had gone through a phase in high school where he was super into Broadway shows and Dean, being the excellent best friend he was, had accompanied him to thirteen over the course of their four years in high school. He smiles to himself as he flips through them, remembering the shows fondly before setting the playbills aside. Next up is the stack of photos spanning high school and college. It’s not a huge amount, since most of the photos are stored on his laptop, but it’s pretty sizable. The top of the stack are pictures from their college commencement ball. Not that he’s ever had a problem admitting it, but damn does Cas look good in a tux. He flips through the pictures slowly, letting his memories of the night be tugged to the surface. He’s still in contact with most of his college friends, but it’s been a while since they’ve gotten together… He makes a mental note to give Charlie a call later before flipping to the next picture. This one’s him and Cas at the homecoming football game their senior year. He’s got blue and gold paint on his cheeks, and Cas has one of the school jerseys on. In the picture, Dean’s forehead is against Cas’s cheek, and both of them are sporting matching grins. He stares at the picture for a moment before setting it on the other side of him, away from the rest of the photos with the intent to put it somewhere visible. The next few pictures are ones taken throughout college. They’re mostly him and Cas, with a few of their mutual friends scattered throughout. He’s always got this look when he’s staring at Cas in pictures. Charlie called it his “heart eyes stare” all throughout college, Castiel had gotten a kick out of that. The next set of pictures are ones from their senior prom in high school. They’ve got ties matching their eye color, green for Dean and blue for Cas, and matching boutonnieres, a small red tulip for each of them. Neither of their parents had been surprised when he’d asked Cas to prom. His mother said she’d been waiting a long time to see who’d make the first move, and Cas’s father had agreed. Even Dean’s dad, who he was sure would be angry about his son being attracted to men was okay with it. He and Cas, though? Neither of them had any idea that the other had similar feelings until Dean had made the first move a few months before their high school graduation. Though, in hindsight, the signs were all there. The next pictures are ones from high school. Cas in the stands cheering during Dean’s soccer games, and Dean in the stands cheering during Cas’s baseball games. A few of them at various school events, and even a few of the time Dean and Cas had manned the kissing booth at the cheerleading fundraiser. He shakes his head at the memory, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches the last picture, one of them on their first day of high school. He shakes his head at the oversized sweater Cas has on, smiling fondly. He sets the final picture aside, pulling a photo album from the box and setting it aside to look at later. He grabs an assortment of tickets, ones from all their high school games, setting them aside before grabbing the stack of polariods from the bottom of the box. These are probably his fondest memories of his and Cas’s relationship, if he’s being honest with himself. At the same time, they’re also the worst. Cas had gotten the tickets for them as a graduation present. The concert was a week and a half after graduation, so they’d agreed to take a long road trip through the western US, stopping at a few different landmarks before ending up at their hotel in LA a couple days before the concert. The car trip had been great, the concert had been incredible, but that night at the hotel? Probably one of the worst nights of his life. He flips through the polariods slowly, sighing heavily. Cas had gotten a job in New York City, and he’d chosen to tell Dean when they got back to their hotel at midnight. Dean had already secured a job in Lebanon, the same place he’d interned with the summer before senior year. Castiel had left the following week, and Dean had been fuming. They’d nearly had a screaming match in the middle of the airport just before Cas caught his plane. The sound of footsteps behind him tugs him out of the spiral of bad memories. “You’re back from your run early.” he says softly, smiling and grabbing the photo album he’d set aside. There’s a low, gravelly chuckle behind him. “I am. Reminiscing, are you?” He hums and nods, turning to glance at the man behind him. “Yep. It’s the only box we haven’t unpacked.” Cas smiles and steps closer, motioning for Dean to move over. Dean wrinkles his nose but complies, shifting over and resting the photo album on both their laps once Cas sits. Castiel cocks an eyebrow at him, smiling. “Our wedding album?” Dean smiles, bumping his shoulder against his husband’s and flipping through the pages. Castiel shifts after a few pages, his head dropping to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me earlier.” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas’s head. Castiel chuckles, resting his hand on Dean’s thigh. The silver band on his left hand sparkles in the early morning sunlight, and Dean can’t help but be ridiculously proud that the man sitting next to him is his husband. He closes the photo album, setting it aside and wrapping an arm around Cas’s waist. “I’m glad we got through it. I hated fighting with you like that.” Castiel hums, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “I did as well, though you were incredibly hot when you were mad like that.” Cas has the audacity to smirk at him, and Dean finds himself shaking his head with a grin on his face. “Yeah, well, you’re hot all the time.” Castiel chuckles, a soft sound that warms Dean from the inside. “Well, since I’m back early, why don’t we both get a little exercise in and then grab a shower?” Cas’s eyes flick to the bed and barely a second passes before Dean’s on his feet, tugging Castiel to the bed. They may have had their ups and downs, but Dean’s glad for every single one of them.