Friday 15th July, 1988

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked.

"I think travelling. First, visit the parents then go to France… China maybe…"

"How predictable," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!"

"It's alright for those who can afford it."

Dean smiled to himself and turned, propping himself up on his elbow, and kissed him. They settled back down onto the pillow until he broke the silence.

"I didn't mean now now. I meant in the future…when you're fifty or something."

"Fifty? Fuck, Cas-"

"Who's Cas?"

"People call you Cas- I've heard them. Hester, Rachel-"

"My friends call me Cas."

"So I can't call you Cas?"

"Sure, Dean."

And, with that confirmation, Dean Winchester started talking elaborately about how he wished to become famous and do television shows but Castiel wasn't listening. He studied the man next to him closely. It was no secret that Dean was attractive, in fact, it was well known. The way he slouched, his lazy grin, his pursed lips and cocky speech that gave him an aura of confidence. Castiel Novak thought that maybe "attractive" was too simplistic for Dean. "Beautiful" seemed to fit more. With his bright green eyes, freckles dotted all over his nose and cheeks, his caramel hair and light stubble across his chin- Castiel had never seen anyone like him.

As if Dean could hear his thoughts, he turned on his side and seemed to flex, showing off his biceps and his abdomen and grinned. Castiel snapped out of it. Beautiful? Really, Castiel? Come on, stay in control.

"I think I can imagine you at fifty," he commented.

"Go on then, read my future."

"Okay, well you're rich and you own a sports car with the roof down- still with your full head of thick hair… greying slightly-"

"Hey!"

"-and you live in a huge mansion in a really posh part of London living with some handsome man in large sunglasses who- let's face it- is thick as shit-"

"Cas."

"But there's another two divorcees and no kids then a Friday in July, you'll be driving across the country, laughing with a set of bright white teeth alongside partner number three or four…" He stopped, realising he sounded crazy.

"Maybe I should go," Dean muttered.

"Don't go," he said too quickly.

"Alright," he replied, getting back under the cover. "But how do you know all that? You barely even know me."

"I know you're type, Dean."

"My type?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, your laid-back, casual, handsome types who think they can charm their way easily through life."

"So," Dean questioned with his hand on Castiel's thigh, "if I'm so awful, how come you're in bed with me?"

"At least I haven't slept with you."

Dean chuckled and pulled him closer, kissing him.

"Just give me a second," Cas said, rolling out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom. "Don't go away," he called through the door.

Dean exhaled through his nose and glanced around Castiel Novak's small flat. It was dingy and filled with educational books- tons of them- and a record player, a small radio and a small television. It was in desperate need of painting, judging by the stained walls, and a really good clean. He'd seen Castiel before around university. He was a quiet, shy boy in the classroom but fiercely individual and the problem with these boys is that they were all the same.

Both Castiel and Dean wanted the same out of life at twenty three. They both wanted to be successful and earn money all whilst making their parents proud of them- something that did not come easily to Dean. He and his dad differed on a lot of things. His dad thought that travelling was a waste of time and that Dean's dream of becoming famous was ridiculous. Coming here tonight with Castiel had been a mistake, he thought.

In the bathroom, Castiel Novak's heart was pounding in his chest. After being single for years, finally someone he really liked was in his bed. Though he suspected that Dean Winchester wasn't exactly the smartest of all the people he had glanced at more than once in the past, he was okay, wasn't he? The only thing really digging at him was the fact that, after tonight, he would probably never see Dean again.

Dean stopped tugging on his jeans when he heard the bathroom door click open and Cas stood at a mock-seductive angle against the doorframe. His face fell as he noticed what Dean was doing.

"Oh…sorry, you can-"

"No, I was just-"

"-go if you want."

Dean stopped fiddling with the belt of his jeans and, noticing how saddened Cas looked, he tugged them back off and slid back down into his bed. From the bed, Dean considered how the other man looked. Castiel had raven hair sticking out at all angles and big round glasses covering his shocking blue eyes. Dean supposed he'd be quiet attractive if he lost the cheap glasses that made him look like a working class teen. Of course, Cas would probably take that as a compliment. He was a person who referred to the term "bourgeois" as an insult. But was it? In Dean's view, "bourgeois" just meant having sufficient money and owning nice items and dressing nicely. Was that such a crime?

Noticing Dean had settled back down into the bed, Castiel sighed happily and joined him. He snuggled up next to Dean and felt the warm radiating off him.

"So, me and you? True love, do you think?" Cas laughed sleepily.

"Go to sleep, Cas," Dean said.

"What do you have planned for tomorrow?"

Before Dean could say I'm extremely busy and utter an apology, he said, "Nothing."

"We should do something."

"Like what?"

"A walk."

"A walk?" Dean asked, noticing it was getting light outside and the sky was turning a salmon pink.

"Yeah," Cas whispered, closing his eyes. "A walk up the hill."

"Okay then. A walk up the hill."