On the corner of Mississippi street, right behind the Natural History Museum in Lawrence, Kansas, there lived two shop owners.
And they hated each other's guts.
In the left shop was a vinyl store. The owner was a big, brawny man who wore leather jackets and plaid shirts. He sold classic vinyl's, from Metallica, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, REO Speedwagon and so on. Don't ever ask him about what he sells, only if you want to be dragged into a long, boring conversation about how awesome Led Zeppelin III is compared to Justin Bieber or One Direction.
In the right shop was a bookstore. This owner wasn't really small, but compared to his neighbour he was definitely little. He had broad shoulders and small hips, but because he always wore ill-fitting suits and a horrible dirty tan trenchcoat nobody noticed that. This man was always in his store, reading thousands and thousands of novels to get through the silent winter days.
This man, Castiel Novak, hated his neighbour with every fibre in his body.
See, there were a couple of reasons.
1. The walls weren't sound proof
2. His neighbour liked to play records on full volume
3. THE WALLS WEREN'T SOUND PROOF AND HIS NEIGHBOUR LIKED TO PLAY HIS RECORDS ON FULL VOLUME
Castiel had tried to converse on a polite and adult way, but Dean, the owner of the vinyl store, wasn't very adult-ish.
He mostly just said nasty things and slammed doors in his face, which had broken two pairs of glasses already.
Castiel wiggled his newest model, a simple black frame with a new reading piece, on his nose and picked up his next book. He'd just finished the newest Stephen King and was feeling like something light, an easy read, so he decided to re-read the Hobbit.
The doorbell sounded, a soft, clear tink! and a boy walked in. He was wearing jeans and a black muscle shirt. There wasn't any piece of skin showing that wasn't tattooed, and Castiel frowned. This was not a usual customer.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
The boy looked around the shop and shook his head. "I think I'm in the wrong shop. This isn't The Pit, right?"
Castiel shook his head, annoyed. Dean's sign was so big, that people often confused their shops. "No, this is The Gate. The Pit is next door."
"Oh," the boy said. "Thanks dude."
And he turned around and disappeared.
"I am not your dude." Castiel mumbled grumpily. He picked up the Hobbit again and started reading.
"In a hole under the ground…"
A rumble came through the wall. Castiel ignored it.
"In a hole under the ground there lived a Hobbit…"
A louder rumble.
"Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole filled with the ends of worms and…"
And suddenly:
"FOR THOSE ABOUT TO ROCK, WE SALUTE YOU- YES WE DOOOO."
"Oh for the love of God." Castiel slid off his chair and started bouncing on the wall.
"TURN THE VOLUME DOWN YOU ASSBUT."
He heard laughing on the other side, then the music got turned down, and a voice boomed back: "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THE MUSIC IS TOO LOUD."
Disgruntled, Castiel picked up the book again.
"Maybe you should talk to him." A drawling voice startled him. A small girl with long black hair and a necklace saying; 'Well behaved women rarely make history' was standing in front of him holding a brand new copy of 'The Shining'. "People who like books and people who like music aren't all that different."
"And you are?" Castiel frowned as he hit up the book.
"A friend." She handed him a twenty. "Keep the chance."
And she was gone.
Castiel was a little taken aback, but her comment bugged him. What if he didn't give Dean the opportunity to slam the door on him? He'd wait for him after closing time.
…
Castiel had closed up the shop a little early and now he was waiting for Dean. He came out of The Pit only ten minutes after five.
"Cas!" he smiled.
Castiel hated him, but he was so handsome.
It made him hate Dean even more.
"Listen Winchester, you need to think about your neighbours every once in a while or so help me God I will sue your ass." Castiel growled.
Dean smiled cocky. "Oh shut up, you don't have the money to sue me."
"You shut up!" Castiel whined like a child.
"Make me." Dean pulled a lopsided grin.
Castiel did the first thing that sprung to mind in his long list of ways to shut Dean up.
He kissed him, hard.
To his surprise, Dean didn't push him away.
On the contrary, he gave in to the kiss and softly brushed his fingertips through Castiel's hair, exploring Cas' mouth, hastily and greedy.
Cas pulled back a little to say something, but Dean's disappointed groan immediately made him regret it.
"Inside." He mumbled.
Dean grabbed the lapel of his trenchcoat and pulled him into The Pit, bolting the door behind him.
"Up," He groaned, "Up,"
They stumbled up the stairs, kissing and feeling, exploring every inch of muscle on each other's bodies.
When Dean fell down onto the bed, Cas crawled on top of him and they looked each other in the eyes for a second.
Dean irises were huge, leaving only a small ring of green around the edge.
"Why did we hate each other again?" Cas asked.
"I play my music too loud." Dean breathed.
"Oh right." Cas kicked his shoes off.
Quickly (and suspiciously experienced) Dean removed every item of clothing.
Cas abandoned Dean's face and kissed his neck and chest, taking his time to give every inch of skin the attention it deserved.
"Cas you fucking tease," Dean gasped. "Get on with it."
Cas grinned a little smug, "Payback." But then he slicked up his fingers and entered Dean slowly. His hips bucked and he gasped, one of the most beautiful sounds Cas had ever heard. It send a twitch right down to his cock.
He added a second finger and started scissoring. Dean wasn't quite holding it together any more.
"Please Cas, hurry the fuck up I swear to God."
"Begging is not a good look on you." It was a blatant lie. Everything was a good look on Dean.
"Neither is smug on you," A lie too.
Cas pulled his fingers out, lined up and softly pushed in.
"Fuck, oh fuck Cas,"
In response, Cas placed wet kissed on Deans neck, slowly dancing their hips in tandem.
Cas licked Dean's sweaty skin, softly biting down on his shoulder.
"Damn, Cas," Dean groaned. "Please, please,"
Castiel picked up pace, thrusting into Dean quicker.
He pulled out right before he came, hot over Dean's stomach, and Dean followed quick.
"We should do this more often," Dean breathed when Cas rolled next to him.
"Yes."
"We should take a shower."
Cas groaned, he would love to, since shower meant more frolicking and waking up covered in cold cum wasn't his favourite thing to do, but the boilers in their street had been malfunctioning for months now.
"But there's no hot water."
"No hot water?" Dean frowned. He was silent for a moment and then he started laughing.
"What?" Cas asked.
Dean didn't stop laughing for a while, which probably had something to do with his post-coital hormones.
"What?" Cas asked again.
"Well," Dean wheezed. "A couple of months ago my boiler broke. And I- well I thought it would be fun to connect mine to your house and yours to mine. And then I forgot to actually fix mine."
"Seriously?" Cas sat up a little. "That's not been a couple of months. That's been a year."
Dean started laughing again.
"I hate you." Cas said. He tried to be serious, but Dean just kept laughing and Cas couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Well, from now on, you're always welcome to use mine."
And they laughed.
…
Three months later, Dean and Cas were standing in front of their joined shops. The small girl with the black hair had been right, people who like music and people who like books aren't all that different.
The Pit's Gate was a grand success, it was stuffed every day and business was booming.