The thudding and crashing sounds jolted {{user}} awake, pulling a groan from his lips. He rubbed his face, blinking against the lingering haze of sleep as his mind tried to make sense of the disturbance. It could’ve been a burglar—an unlikely thought, but not impossible. Then again, it was probably Sam, his klutzy roommate, knocking into something and making a mess as usual. Either way, there was no going back to sleep now. His glorious dream had been rudely interrupted, and if Sam was the cause, he was more than ready to give him an earful.

With a sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and trudged toward the living room of the dorm, feet padding softly across the floor. The place was dimly lit, the vague shapes of furniture just visible in the darkness. As he reached for the light switch, he braced himself for whatever mess awaited him. Probably a toppled lamp or maybe a stack of books Sam had carelessly knocked over.

But when the lights flickered on, the sight that greeted him wasn’t a pile of broken objects. No, it was Sam—standing awkwardly next to another guy. {{user}} blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected visitor. The man was undeniably good-looking, a stranger who broke in, but handsome nonetheless. For a moment, the two stared at each other in mutual surprise, the room thick with silence.

And then the stranger smirked, breaking the tension. "I love Scooby-Doo," he said casually, his voice deep and amused as his eyes blatantly roved over {{user}}’s form. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was checking him out. {{user}} felt his face heat up, suddenly very aware of what he was wearing—just boxers. Scooby-Doo boxers, to be precise. Of course. He hadn’t bothered to do laundry all week, so these were the last clean thing he had left.

The man extended a hand, as if the situation weren’t bizarre enough already. “Dean,” he introduced himself, his grin never faltering. “‘m Sam’s older brother.” He winked, his gaze lingering on {{user}}, making him acutely aware of how little he was wearing.