AN: Was going to be elevator smut. Did not end up as elevator smut. THIS CHAPTER HAS ONE OF TWO POSSIBLE ENDINGS. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE SAME FIC BUT WITH A DIFFERENT, HAPPY ENDING, SO IF YOU WANT THAT WAIT LIKE TWO MINUTES FOR ME TO POST IT.

Note: Contains angst, fluff, major character death, claustrophobia, and panic attacks. Sorry.

"Hey, Winchester!" Castiel shouted as he saw the back of his neighbour's leather jacket disappear into their apartment complex. Finally, finally he had the opportunity – and the guts – to confront his (ridiculously attractive) douchebag neighbour about the frankly ridiculous lack of volume control the man had on his television.

Dean Winchester turned around as he entered the lobby, eyebrows raised. "Whaddaya want, Novak?" he asked gruffly, successfully hiding how much the sight of a riled up Castiel Novak turned him on.

"Your fucking volume control actually being controlled would be a great start," Castiel snarled as they glared at one another in the dingy lobby, waiting for the elevator. "I was trying to grade some tests last night and all I could hear – in excruciating detail, I might add – was the sound of one Dr Piccolo telling another doctor how much of a coward he was!"

Dean winced and felt himself blushing. No one was supposed to know about his love of Dr Sexy. "Dude, I had it pretty damn quiet, you know. Not my fault the walls are so frigging thin."

"I don't care! I couldn't give a rats ass about your stupid TV show!" Castiel was lying through his teeth – he owned every season of Dr Sexy on DVD, not that he was about to tell Dean that – and he glowered up at Dean. "I couldn't concentrate on my work because of your fucking soap opera!"

The swearing really shouldn't have been as much of a turn on as it was. The elevator gave a wek ding and the doors slid open, Dean and Castiel stepping in and Castiel thumping the button for the fourth floor. Dean rolled his eyes. "Chill out, man. I'm sure your students are gonna survive not knowing the results for one stupid class quiz for one day."

"It was an in class assessment worth 30% of the entire year's grade," Castiel hissed. "God, you're so obnoxious, you don't even pay attention to anything that might affect someone else, do you?"

"Hey-" Dean began to retort, but at that point the elevator juddered to a halt. However, the doors remained firmly closed. "Um, I'm pretty sure we aren't at the fourth floor. Are they meant to be like that? What's going on?" His voice grew steadily more horrified and panicked, and Castiel rolled his eyes, oblivious to Dean's growing dread.

"Clearly the elevator has broken down. And now we have to wait for someone to come and help us."

"Fucking great," Dean whimpered, slumping in the corner and bringing his knees up to his chest so he could bury his face. His next words, though muffled and alarmed, were clearly audible. "Of all people to be stuck in a fucking elevator with, I have to be stuck with my stick-in-the-ass neighbour."

Castiel had just pressed the "if an emergency occurs, press for security" button, and his head whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard," Dean grumbled, but most of the fight had left him as the anxiety set in. His blue eyed neighbour (eyes should not be that shade of blue, not legally anyhow) scowled as Dean continued, staving off the inevitable panic attack as he attempted to distract himself. "I tried to be nice when you first moved in, and you were a complete dick to me, so I dunno where the hell you get off tellin' me I'm obnoxious. I fuckin' tried, dude."

There was silence in the elevator – minus Dean's breathing, which was getting steadily more ragged – as Castiel sifted through his vague memories of when he first moved in to the apartment, after his rather explosive break up with Crowley. Dean probably had been nice, he supposed, he'd just been rather wrapped up in his own misery and irritability to notice. Speaking of not noticing….as he peered at the other man, he realised Dean had gone a nasty shade of green. Ah. He probably should've cottoned on sooner.

"I'm…sorry?" he tried, taking cautious steps towards the curled up man. Dean snorted frantically, desperately trying to avoid the cold terror currently gripping at his heart.

"Little late for that, don't ya think Cas? I mean, we're about to die and all." His face was no longer entirely hidden by his forearms, eyes peeping over his sleeves so they were darting everywhere uncontrollably. "Fuck, better call Sammy, tell him he's the last Winchester now."

He pulled out his phone and dialled, sending up a brief prayer of thanks to whatever gods existed that there were a few bars of signal available. "Sammy? Yeah, it's me. Um. I'm stuck in a broken elevator. I know, right? So yeah. If you never hear from me again, it's because I'm dead. What? No, no, I'm not alone. I'm uh…I'm with my neighbour, Cas." Dean looked up at Castiel mid-babble, green eyes wide, before continuing to speak in a reassuring tone that contrasted heavily with his flustered demeanour. "Nah, he's a cool guy, best neighbour I've ever had, actually. I'm fine Sammy, jeez, just saying goodbye before I die."

Why is he lying? Less than a minute ago we were arguing, and now he looks like he's going to be sick, Castiel thought. At something Sam said to Dean, Dean's astonishingly green eyes flickered up to Castiel's face uncertainly.

"Um, sure? If you want?" Dean held out the phone to Castiel. "My brother wants to talk to you in our last moments of life instead of me, so um….." he shrugged. Castiel raised an eyebrow, but plcked the phone from his hands.

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, Cas, is it?" A young man's tinny voice came through the phone, and Castiel pressed it to his ear uncertainly.

"Yes?"

"Okay, so I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I'm really sorry about this. Hi, I'm Sam by the way. Dean's brother. Anyway, Dean tends to…freak out. In situations like this. He hates flying, he hates basically anything involving being remotely airborne with no control, and I'm like 99% sure he's about to have a full-blown panic attack. So uh….you may need to help out with that. He said you guys are friends?" Sam Winchester sounded hesitant, and Castiel rushed to put his mind at ease.

"No, no, of course. I have experience. We'll be fine. Thank you, Sam."

"Thanks, man. Really. I dunno what I'd do – what Dean would do – if he didn't have someone there with him right now." Sheer gratitude emanated from Sam's end, and Castiel bit his lip. "Uh, yeah, that was all I really wanted to say. Just make sure he doesn't do something stupid? I'll talk to him again now. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sam," Castiel murmured, before passing the cellphone back to a wide-eyed Dean, who latched onto it immediately.

"Sammy? What'd you say? What? Why'd you – shit, man, why'd you fucking tell my neighbour I turn into a freaking child in an elevator? Not cool, man. Not. Cool. Yeah, yeah, bitch, just make sure my funeral is fucking awesome, kay? And ask your damn girlfriend to marry you before she realises how much of a sissy you are. Yeah I know. Okay. Okay!" his voice became more subdued. "Sorry, Sammy. I just….yeah. Okay. Bye." Vaguely mournful, he hung up and stared at his screen blankly before sliding his phone back into his pocket and staring into space once more, knuckles tightening as his breathing picked up alarmingly.

Castiel sat down next to him, so that their sides pressed together and Dean was able to feel the solid, warm body next to him. "So. Confined spaces, huh?" he asked, trying to sound light. Dean glared, face now taut and pale.

"Not. Fucking. Helping." He gasped out, rocking slightly.

"I once taught elementary, you know," Castiel continued, ignoring him. "There was a 6 year old boy in my class, Samandriel, and he used to have panic attacks in class when he saw the posters for the Bugs unit we did. I used to have to calm him down by having him sit on my lap while everyone else had 'quiet reading time' and I would have to sing the song from Hercules to him – the one about being a true hero? – until his parents picked him up. It was the only thing that would calm him down." As he spoke, Dean slowly emerged, a shy hand creeping over as his breathing relaxed so he could grasp Castiel's hand. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to sit on my lap, and my singing voice is pretty terrible…."

"I wouldn't mind," Dean rasped, still tightly gripping Castiel's hand in order to ground himself. At Castiel's expression, he blushed. "Not…you know…just….ugh, fuck I'm gonna fucking die in here fucking shit."

"Dean!" Castiel grabbed Dean's chin with his free hand and looked into his eyes, which were showing far too much white. "We are not going to die. We are safe, you are safe with me. I won't let anything hurt you. Okay? The security men will be here very soon, and we aren't in any danger at all. Did you know, I kind of hate this apartment complex? The only reason I moved here was because I broke up with my boyfriend. He's kind of a colossal dick, and he let my flowers die. The bees that visited stopped visiting, and when I shouted at him because of that, we had a massive fight and I left him. I like bees. He didn't understand. So I moved into the apartment next to yours, and the window-box is barely able to sustain mould, let alone forget-me-nots." His tone was mournful as he mindlessly babbled, but Dean was starting to relax slightly, so he continued. "If I am ever able to afford to move out, I think I would like to own a home that allows me to have a garden and cultivate my own honey. Somewhere quiet."

There was a vague groaning noise, and Dean's breathing hitched. Castiel shushed him gently, impulsively placing a small kiss on Dean's forehead and hugging him. "Feeling any better?"

Dean's breathing grew less ragged as he nodded, holding onto Castiel for all he was worth. "I. Fucking. Hate. Elevators," he huffed, and Castiel shifted so that Dean was able to rest his head on Castiel's shoulder, surprisingly childlike for such a large man.

"Why don't you tell me about your brother?" Castiel asked. Anything to keep Dean from panicking.

"Sammy's awesome. Smart. In college. Stanford. Gonna be a lawyer." Dean mumbled into the fabric of Castiel's trench coat – which was, unexpectedly, soft and giving off a faint hint of apples and cinnamon. "Baby brother. Had to raise the genius after Mom and Dad died."

"How come?" Castiel's arm crept over Dean's shoulders into a more comfortable position, his thumb rubbing small circles into the muscled bicep he found there.

"Car accident. They were picking us up from school, we were gonna surprise Sammy with a trip to Disneyland. I was 17, he was 7. Got totalled by a goddamn semi as we were about to hit the freeway. Mom and Dad died instantly. Sammy was unconscious for most of it. I…I was awake the whole time. Stuck in the backseat. All I could do was make sure my brother was okay, couldn't get out, couldn't call for help, couldn't get out, stuck in my seat watching my dead parents and my baby brother and the car caught fire and I want my mom–" he was cut off by Castiel brushing a warm hand over his face.

"Sssh, it's okay. I'm here. Tell me about your job."

Dean took a deep shuddering breath, fists clenching and unclenching as he allowed Castiel to comfort him.

"Mechanic. Uncle Bobby. Took in me 'n' Sammy, been working there getting Sammy's college fund ever since. Sam's gonna be a bit hotshot lawyer, pride of the family." Unknowingly, his fists curled into Castiel's shirt as he tucked himself under the other man's arm even further, craving comfort to stave off the encroaching panic. "I ain't got nothin' else," he mumbled.

Castiel's heart broke a little at these words, at the way Dean spoke about himself. "Your job is incredible, Dean. People's lives are potentially in your hands. I'm sure you're amazing at your job, just as you were amazing at raising a young man like your brother. You should be proud of yourself."

Dean shrugged.

"I mean it. And I am sorry about my rudeness before." His apology was slightly stilted, but heartfelt, and Dean actually raised his head to look at him properly.

"It's um. It's cool," he said softly, momentarily distracted by just how blue Castiel's eyes were, how close they were, how inviting his mouth was…

A low crunch interrupted whatever he'd been about to do, and he clutched at Castiel with newfound fear. Castiel pulled him even closer, so that Dean's legs were partially slung over his lap with the blonde's head nestled into his chest.

"It's just the workmen, Dean, coming to get us out," he soothed. Dean nodded, scared that if he spoke he would babble incoherent nonsense. Castiel began to hum the first thing that popped into his head, low voice becoming a deep rumble that shivered through Dean's body.

"Na, na na na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude," he sang quietly. Dean visibly relaxed and closed his eyes, so Castiel took it as a sign to continue. He sang snatches of the song at random, unable to properly remember the order they came in – although he didn't suppose it really mattered, given Dean's current state.

"Mom used to sing this," Dean said unexpectedly, quietly. Castiel stopped.

"Sorry."

"No. Keep going." Dean snuggled closer, taking comfort in the sheer presence of Castiel's body, and how perfectly it caved around him, accommodating and consoling. He hung onto this as there was another ominous groan, and Castiel continued singing.

"The minute you let her under your skin,
then you begin to make it better.

And anytime you feel the pain,
hey Jude, refrain
don't carry the world upon your shoulders…"

He continued to sing, even as Dean gripped him tightly, even when he felt an awful shudder that could only mean one thing. He continued to sing, comforting the man in his lap, even as the elevator cable snapped. He continued to sing, even as Dean Winchester let out his last sob in his arms. He continued to sing, even as the elevator plunged three stories and they fell into empty darkness.

AN: Sorry. Let me know what you think? If there are any mistakes please let me know. And if I did a terrible job of showing Dean's claustrophobia and panic attack then I am also sorry. REMEMBER THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE HAPPY ENDING.

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