#sarcasmsammy

Oh god, the regret was intense this morning. Dean woke up, freezing since he never got under the comforter, and feeling absolutely disgusting. What the hell had he been thinking, not changing out of his scrubs? How many people had coughed on him yesterday? Did he get bled on yesterday? Probably. God knew what else was on them, including his own sweat and most likely stains from his lunch. Ugh.

He pulled all the sheets and comforter off the bed, and threw them into a pile by the front door. At least he didn’t have to work until tomorrow morning, he had time to do all this laundry.

Dean stripped off his scrubs, wincing at the bruises littering his left side. He really hated violence patients.

Stepping into the shower was one of the best feelings in the world, Dean would fight anyone who disagreed. He moaned in the simple pleasure of hot water coursing over his abused muscles. Humming in happiness, Dean reached for his soap and lathered up a washcloth. His humming soon turned into full blown singing. Because Dean felt good, okay? ACDC was the obvious choice to express his bliss.

Castiel turned over in his bed, groaning. Why, why, for the love of all that is holy, did his neighbor feel the need to sing in the shower? Every. Fucking. Day. And it was always at the most random times, too. What did the man do for a living that he was in the shower at all hours of the day? Castiel has never seen him in anything he would consider work clothes, only in torn jeans and flannels. And he filled those jeans with an amazing ass, and God knew his face was one angels’ sang praises about, but that did not in any way excuse the caterwauling that was coming through his walls right now. 

Currently it was 6:03 AM, and Castiel didn’t have to be awake for another two hours. He buried his head under his pillow, growling when that didn’t drown out his neighbor’s version of Back in Black.

This had to stop.

Castiel maybe should have thought this through more. Or, maybe, thrown on some pants before exiting his apartment, walking the ten or so feet up to his neighbor’s door, and starting to bang on the door. It was only after he had thumped angrily at the wood that he realized he was one - only in his boxers and an old, mostly see-through t-shirt, and two - had no idea what he was going to say.

The door swung inward, away from Castiel’s pounding fist, causing his hand to just barely brush against warm, wet skin.

Jesus fucking christ, he’s naked.

Well, Castiel had interrupted Neighbor Man’s shower, so it was understandable that he stood in the doorway in little more than a small white towel. This early in the morning, without his normal dose of coffee, Castiel would forgive himself the blatant staring he was currently doing.

Who knew his neighbor had great muscle tone on top of his fantastic ass and good Lord those eyes! Maybe Castiel was still in bed, dreaming.

"Uh, can I help you, man?" Neighbor Man’s eyebrow raised, full pink lips quirking in a mixture of confusion and amusement. Right, Castiel should probably say something.

"Your showers are annoying."

Brilliant, Castiel, just brilliant.

"My showers are…what now?" Dean’s earlier contentedness from his hot shower and his hotter neighbor oogling his body disappeared, frustrated confusion taking its place. How could his showers be annoying? 

Dean’s Hot Neighbor frowned and rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s six o’clock in the fucking morning.”

Trying not to be distracted by Hot Neighbor’s deep sexy growl of a voice, Dean leaned back to look at the clock on the wall next to his door. Well well, so it was. “Yeah, and?”

”And for the past three months I’ve been hearing you “sing” in the shower. And it’s six in the morning so for the love of God, stop.”

Wow, he had even thrown in the hand motions around the word ‘sing.’ Harsh. Then the implications of Hot Neighbor’s words actually got through to Dean - his Hot Neighbor had been listening to him sing in the shower for months. What else had he heard?!

”You can hear me through the walls?!” Dean exclaimed, trying to keep his voice under control. It wasn’t really working, considering the pubescent squeak on the last word.

Hot Neighbor sighed, looked at his bare feet - and bare legs holy shit those thighs - and grumbled under his breath. Then he took a deep breath, looked up with beautiful blue eyes, and grumbled out, “Please limit your singing to appropriate times, specifically when I’m not sleeping.”

With that, he turned and started to walk back to his apartment.

"Wait!"

Shit, why had Dean said that? He didn’t want Hot Neighbor to wait, he wanted to go bury himself in his couch and groan about thin walls.

"Yes?" Big Blue Eyes turned back around and stared sleepily at him.

"I just, uh, I’m sorry." Yes, apologizing, good strategy, much more appropriate than you have pretty eyes. "I didn’t realize you could hear anything through the walls, I didn’t mean to wake you up."

Hot Neighbor rubbed the back of his neck, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “It’s fine-“

"No, it’s not. I know how important sleep is, and I’ve been fucking your’s up. And I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?" Well, it was official. Dean was hitting on his Hot Neighbor, wearing only a towel.

Hot Neighbor blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

”Shit, sorry man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just, I wanted to apologize for the singing, and I just thought, hey why not right?” Dean was rambling, dear God please let him stop! “And now you’re freaked out ‘cause I’m hitting on you wearing just a stupid towel and you probably hate me for the singing don’t you? Fuck I’m-“ 

"Yes."

"-sorry- wait, what? Yes what?" Dean could feel a hot flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears. Hot Neighbor totally hated him.

"Yes, I’ll let you make it up to me. Perhaps dinner?" Hot Neighbor shuffled his feet again, his eyes flicking between Dean’s face and his torso, and sometimes even lower.

Dean smirked, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “Sure, dinner. Why don’t you come over around seven? I promise, no singing.”

Hot Neighbor locked gazes with him, nodded, and turned to go into his apartment. Then he stopped in his doorway and turned back to Dean, who had been taking the opportunity to admire his back muscles and especially his perky ass.

"What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Neighbor Man now, can I?"

Dean smirked, chuckling. “Dean Winchester. And you are?”

"Castiel Novak."

"Well, Cas, I’ll see you tonight." Glancing down at his unclothed self, he added, "And I promise I’ll wear clothes, too."

Cas, who didn’t seemed fazed by the shortening of his name, again took in Dean’s bare chest, smirked, and, turning to go into his apartment, said over his shoulder, “Don’t feel obligated, I don’t mind.”

Dean gaped as his neighbor’s door shut with a quiet click.

Tonight would definitely be interesting, that was apparent.

Castiel leaned against the back of the door, dumbfounded. Had he just been asked out on a date? With his annoying-but-hot neighbor? Had he just flirted with said neighbor? He had. And he was going to dinner with him tonight.

Castiel glanced at the clock above his kitchen sink and hurried into his bedroom. He would have to hurry if he wanted to stop by the pharmacy before class.