#rottenstench

No, that honour goes to the gentleman next to him. The gentleman whose head is now on his shoulder; the gentleman who is now snoring very lightly, soft snuffles through his noise; the gentleman who Dean is pretty sure is drooling every so slightly. 

He blames Sam entirely for this. He’d borrowed the Impala - which Dean had been 100% against, by the way, thank you for asking - to visit his girlfriend, and now he needs his big brother to make the journey out of him, because he had some kind of important news that just couldn’t be told over the phone.

Jess is pregnant, Dean’s calling that right the fuck now.

The guy sleeping on his shoulder got on the Greyhound two stops after him, and had fallen asleep one stop after that. Half an hour, and he’s still showing no signs of waking up. He could be comatose for all Dean knows, but he doesn’t want to wake the guy up.

Because now he’s finally looked at him, and…Damn, he looks fucking adorable when he’s asleep. That’s probably a creepy thing to realise, Dean knows that, but he’d be lying if he said that it isn’t true. 

His eyelashes are lightly dusting the skin just underneath his eyes, stark black against pale skin, long and fine. His lips are parted ever so slightly, and Dean doesn’t have the heart to wake him up when he looks so peaceful. 

Every so often, Dean can see his eyes shifting underneath his lids, and he wonders what the guy is dreaming about. 

It’s not until a couple of hours later that the guy starts to stir, and Dean has to pretend that he hasn’t been looking at him on and off for that time. As the guy stretches, and opens his eyes, he seems to realise that he’s fallen asleep on a complete stranger, and he freezes, like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh…” He seems to be fumbling for words, for an apology, for something that’ll make this potentially less awkward, and Dean has to put him out of his misery.

“Don’t worry about it, man. These bus rides are borin’ as hell.”

The guy - Dean really has to find out his name some time soon, so that he can stop referring to him as ‘the guy’ in his head, like this is some kind of shitty noir movie - looks a little less flustered, but he still seems kind of embarrassed. 

“I, um…I apologise. I suppose I was more tired than I originally thought.”

“Seriously, dude, don’t worry about it.”

They lapse into silence for a little while, as Dean glances out of the window to try and figure out where they are. It doesn’t go very well, because he can see is fields, which isn’t helpful at all for trying to orient yourself. 

When he looks back at guy, he’s being dutifully ignored, so Dean makes an attempt to break the silence.

“Hey, I’m Dean,” he says by way of proper introduction, offering a hand.

His hand is looked at, at then they’re locking eyes, and holy shit this guy has really fucking blue eyes. It’s a little distracting, honestly. 

“Castiel,” the guy replies, and takes Dean’s hand to shake it warmly. 

When they finally reach their destination, Dean’s leaving the bus with his duffle bag, Castiel’s number, and a promise of coffee at a later date.