Two old shoes walked down the aisle between many musty, crowded rows of seats. People sneezed and coughed incessantly, chatting amongst themselves and shifting uncomfortably as the train trudged on its path. The shoes finally saw an empty seat up ahead. They approached cautiously and turned to the person who sat against the window.

"Is this space taken?"

"Huh?" It was a young boy who had his face plastered to the train's window. He glanced over his shoulder just briefly and said, "Nah. You can sit."

"Thank you."

Now a place to rest was established and it seemed less scary. The boy returned his face to the window and continued to watch the world rattle by.

"Um," the new travel companion said. "Are you with anyone?"

"Do you think I'd let you sit here if I was?" the boy asked in a sassy tone. He looked back at the no longer empty seat and glared. "I guess you don't either, huh?"

"No. I am alone."

Somehow, the only two unattended minors on the entire train managed to find each other.

"You look funny," the boy at the window said.

"Sorry," the other responded. He wasn't sure what to say. But then the window boy turned back to him and got real close to his face, leering meanly with his sharp green eyes.

"You aren't a kraut, are you?" he asked.

"What is a kraut?"

"Bad people. Dad always says to watch out for 'them krauts.'"

"I don't believe I'm a kraut."

"Are you a ching-chong?"

"What is a ching-chong?"

"More bad people. Bad people from the China and the Vee-yet-name. Dad says they're the worst."

Window boy wrinkled up the skin around his eyes and glared at his passenger's hands. There was a crumpled piece of paper there with some writing he had never seen before.

"You are a ching-chong!" he shouted. "What the heck is that?"

"It's Russian."

"You're speak Russian stuff?"

"Yes."

Green eyes sat back in his seat but kept his sight fixed on the other boy. He stared suspiciously. "You're a Commie," he said.

"No. I know that word and I am not a Commie. My parents risked everything to come here."

"Yeah, right."

"You're already judging me? I have known you for less than ten minutes."

Hostile boy cooled off a bit and folded his arms. He looked out the window again. "Alright," he said. "So what's your name, Commie?"

"It's not Commie. It's Castiel."

"Castiel? What sort of stupid name is that?"

"Mama named me after an angel. She said angels were always watching her so she called me after one to make sure they always watch me."

"I've never heard of an angel named Castiel. Or an angel named anything. Your mama is full of shit."

"That is very rude," Castiel said with a sigh. "May I ask your name?"

"Dean. It's nice and normal."

"Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Yeah shut up." Dean rolled his eyes and pressed his nose to the window glass.

"How old are you, Dean?"

"Thirteen."

"Oh. You're an entire year older than me."

"You're twelve? Dude you talk real good for twelve."

"I speak the best English in school," Castiel boasted, but then his face fell solemn. The train rattled heavily as it changed tracks. "Well, I did. School is over now."

"Why?"

"Because I'm leaving. That is why I'm on this train."

"Where're you going?"

"I'm not sure."

"Wait, you're just on a train? Randomly? Going nowhere?"

"That is correct."

"Man, your mama really is full of shit. She put you up to his?"

"Yes."

Dean looked over at Castiel again. This time he tried to smile but it did little good. "Where's your mama anyways?"

"I don't know," Castiel said sadly.

"What happened?"

"She, well," Castiel's eyes fell to his hands and he smoothed out the letter a little. "She wrote to me, 'Кастиэль,этовсе наши де...'"

"Hey man, I don't speak Russian," Dean interrupted rather rudely.

"I'm sorry," Castiel apologized immediately. He read the letter to himself then softly continued, "She gives me all of our money and says to take a train as far away as possible. It doesn't matter where."

"Weird," was all Dean could answer.

"Weird? Dean, you are very rude."

"Life on the road, man. Life on the road."

"That is no excuse," Castiel rebutted. "I have been homeless my entire life. They said when we came to America it would be different but it is not."

Dean pondered over what Castiel said. They both sat silently, save for the chatter of people around them, until finally the green eyed boy broke the silence with, "I've been homeless, too. My dad's in jail now so I can't pal around with him anymore. We used to live in his car."

"I'm sorry," said Castiel.

"It's okay. I got a plan. I always got a plan. Dad always had a plan now I got a plan."

"You have a plan, I understand this. What is your plan?"

Dean grinned ear to ear and brandished a set of keys from his way-oversized jacket. He waved them in front of Castiel's face joyfully. "See these?" he said.

"Yes, I see them."

"They're keys to a secret hideout my Uncle Bobby built. I'm gonna go live there and be just like dad."

"Interesting."

"Yeah that's why it's cool to have a plan, Cas."

"Cas?"

"I'm gonna call you Cas. It's easier than that stupid angel name."

"Okay."

Dean tucked back against the window and watched a forest pass them. The train wobbled and rattled around, creaking and crackling the whole way. A heavy woman in front of them sneezed three times in a row and a baby started to cry somewhere near the back. Cas just sat there and stared at his hands.

"Hey Cas?" Dean asked. He peeked over at the other boy quickly, then withdrew.

"Yes, Dean?"

"You have pretty eyes," Dean said very fast.

"Thank you," Cas answered.

"They're really…blue."

"Yes, they are. You have very pretty веснушки."

"What's that?"

"I don't know what you say. They're, they're here." Cas leaned over to Dean and lightly touched his thin finger to his cheek.

"Freckles?" Dean asked.

"I suppose. These dots on your face."

"Yeah, that's freckles."

"I like your freckles."

"Hey…hey…Cas. Cas! Earth to Cas! Where are you, man?"

A faraway place fades into darkness and then opens up to a bright, white bathroom ceiling. A great slosh of water splashes around and Cas focuses his eyes.

"Yo, Cas. Come back here. What's up?"

Cas looks down from the ceiling and catches Dean, who is sitting at the end of the tub near the taps, reaching out and poking him square in the chest.

"Dean," Cas says, looking at the finger. "Can you stop that, please?"

"I'll stop when you stop daydreaming," Dean taunts, poking again. Cas sighs loudly.

"I'm not daydreaming," Cas insists. "I'm just thinking very heavily."

"Well stop it. Look, we had a fantastic haul today."

Dean finally lets off of Cas' chest and returns to his space in the tub. The bathwater splashes around between both of them as he moves and takes up the beer had tucked in the corner. With a big swig, he smiles triumphantly.

"It was close, though," Cas says.

"No it wasn't. How?"

"You left barely in time. Less than a minute longer and you would have been caught."

"Yeah but I didn't and that's what matters," Dean says. He grins more and sets down his beer. "C'mon, Cas. Don't be such a sour puss. Or is it…ahh, you're just pissed because we ditched the jewelry store idea?"

"No," Cas says quickly, steering his eyes far from Dean.

"That's it. I can tell. You're pissed."

"I am not," Cas insists.

"Babe, please. Think I don't know you better than this?"

Cas glares at Dean. "I am slightly unnerved."

"Thought so. I'll make it up to you; next time we do hit one up, we'll make sure they sell body jewelry so we can get you a new belly ring. How's that?"

"I don't need a new belly ring," Cas snaps.

"Yeah you do," Dean teases. He shifts forward to his knees and leans in real close to Cas, who still avoids Dean's eyes. "You like anything sparkly and new, and you've had those boring little metal balls forever."

Cas looks up and blinks his eyes several times. "That is true," he says softly.

"Stop being such a diva," Dean says. He chuckles as his hands come to Cas' shoulders, touching the moist, bare skin tenderly, and then Dean moves into the crook of his neck and kisses him a few times.

"Dean," Cas moans, closing his eyes. "N-not now."

"You love it," Dean says.

"Yes of course I do, but I'm a little distracted."

"By what?"

"Things."

"Things?"

"Yes, things. Things and things."

"You're so fucking cryptic, man," Dean sneers and runs his tongue across his partner's neck a few times, sending shivers down his spine.

"Dean, please. Is it possible for you to keep your dick out of me for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, I keep it out plenty. It's not in you when we're working."

"Right. Working."

"Oh no," Dean groans. He sits back from Cas and stares at him very seriously. "You aren't having one of those bitchface assbutt sentimental 'why am I doing this' moments, are you? Please tell me you aren't."

"No," Cas says rather confidently. "I'm just concerned about your sloppiness today."

"It won't happen again, okay? I promise."

"Please do."

"I do, babe. I do." Dean kisses Cas on the cheek briefly and then stands up to step out of the tub. Cas stays in, bringing his knees to his chest. "What now?"

"You know how I feel about those words," Cas mutters.

"Which?"

"'I do,' Dean."

"Sorry."

Cas makes a pouty face as Dean towels off.

"I don't understand why it's so difficult," says Cas.

"We're gonna have this argument again?" Dean groans. He wraps the towel around his waist and goes to the vanity mirror, where he scoops up a thin comb and runs it through his hair.

"Yes," Cas says sadly. He puts his chin on his knees and stares up at Dean, still pouting.

"Getting married makes us documentable," Dean grumbles. "We can't be documentable. You're the smart one in all this, you should be able to understand that! Logistics and shit, babe."

"Mmm," Cas moans in resentment.

Dean turns his back to the mirror and sits up on the sink counter, looking down at Cas. He lights up a cigarette and blows smoke into the room.

"Not even a ring," Cas sighs.

"Rings make us identifiable," Dean says. He puffs heavily on his cigarette and grunts several times. "How can you go from bitching about me almost blowing our cover to fussing over stupid shit that could really get us revealed? You know, I sorta like how we've been able to remain completely anonymous in our robberies this entire time. That's almost two decades, Cas. Two decades of slipping under the radar. You ever see the news reports following our jobs? There's never even been a witness sketch or whatever the fuck they call it."

"I know," says Cas. He sighs again. "And you are correct. We have had some of the best luck in criminal history I have ever known. It just, occasionally, feels like you don't really love me."

"That's ridiculous," Dean retorts immediately. With his cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth, he hops off the sink and motions for Cas to come out. "I love you plenty. Now come here."

Reluctantly, Cas heaves a heavy sigh and steps from the tub, splattering hot water all over the rim and mat. Dean takes another towel and starts patting him down with it.

"I can dry myself," Cas says.

"Nah, I can do it. No hassle at all."

"Dean…"

He wraps the towel around Cas' waist and smiles. "Not so hard, huh?"

Cas shakes his head and can't help but smile. "Oh, Dean," he says. "What would I do without you?"

"Well you wouldn't be any more fickle, that's for sure. 'Cause that's not possible."

"Please don't push your luck," Cas snips, pointing at Dean. He giggles slightly and heads out of the bathroom, not before getting smacked on the butt. He moans a little and they both leave and go into the bedroom. Dean runs ahead and leaps onto the bed.

"Be cool," he coos.

"I am being cool," says Cas. He softly steps over to his side of the bed, drops his towel and gets under the covers. "For the most part I am satisfied with our job today."

"Good," Dean hums. He tosses his towel across the room and climbs beneath the sheets as well, immediately pulling Cas into his arms. The dark hair man doesn't hesitate one bit and goes right up against Dean's chest.

"And I already have an idea for the next job," adds Cas. His fingers trace light circles across Dean's pecks.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"We finally hit up Columbus."

Dean frowns. "You know how I feel about those giant cities."

"Pittsburgh isn't giant?"

"It's different."

"Possibly, but we have exhausted it. I understand you want to avoid Philadelphia but please, please consider Columbus. I have mapped out a few locations we can attempt. A place to stay. The usual."

With a big long sigh, Dean hugs Cas a big tighter and nods. "Okay," he agrees weakly. "We'll do what the princess wants."

"Don't call me that."

"But you hating it makes it more fun."

"Mmmh," Cas hums annoyed. "You are a pain in the ass."

"Only for a few seconds, babe."

A disgruntled moan and Cas simply ends the entire discussion with, "Good night, Dean."