((Hey guys! So sorry it's been ages since I've updated this fic, I've been really struggling with depression lately, as well as school, work, and general fatigue. However, I am proud to announce I've officially overcome my writer's block and some of my depression, and am back to weekly updates on this fic. Thanks so much for all the lovely support, I hope you enjoy this! Oh, by the way, the format in which I've chosen to write this may get a bit confusing, so please remember to pay attention to the dates before each section, as there are flashbacks/memory segments. Dean and Castiel, as mentioned in the summary, went to college from 1924-1928. They spent 1928-1929 getting ready for the move, and moved mid 1929. The new year, 1930, has just arrived when this chapter begins. I hope that all makes sense! Also, I've had to change the date of their arrest in the summary due to details I missed previously in my research. So, instead of being arrested in 1935 as the summary said, they will now be arrested in 1941. Sorry about that! Anyhow, I'll stop my rambling. Enjoy!))


January 30, 1930

Dear Mom,

Living here has been really interesting so far. Cas and I have both settled in to our jobs, and have even found a few friends to occupy our free time. Being room mates has certainly been different, but not bad. Berlin is so vastly different from Kansas you wouldn't believe it. There's never a dull moment, with things going on all hours of the day. How are things over there? I miss you all. I've been worried about Dad's job since the crash, things seem pretty bad over there. It's bad over here as well. This week alone I've had to fire five people from the factory. I regret having this task fall on my shoulders, but it's all part of the job, which I'm grateful to still have. Cas is stable in his job, luckily. His editor says he might even get to begin writing columns for the news section. We are both very excited at the opportunity of everything here, even despite the hard times everyone seems to have fallen on. I hope Sammy is doing fine in his preparation to go off to college, I know he was so excited to go out to Stanford. I'll try to find more time to write, give everyone my well wishes for the new year.

Your son,

Dean

Setting down the black and silver fountain pen he'd used to scribe the words, Dean fanned the air over his letter to help the ink dry. He'd learned the hard way, a few years previous, ink had to have time to set. After finishing an important English midterm, he was ignorant enough to place other papers atop it, and as a result smudged the whole of his carefully crafted essay. A shameful amount of cursing later, he realized he should always give extra time for drying, and never again forgot.

A nostalgic feeling blooming in his chest at the memory, Dean folded his letter and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it quickly to avoid the taste. It was true, he did miss home, and adjusting to a new place was incredibly difficult, but with Castiel by his side, it was easier. In fact, if he thought back to it, everything was easier since Castiel showed up in his life.


January 18, 1924

Dean was walking to class in the early hours of the morning, trying to avoid his third tardy that month when he suddenly felt his feet go out from under him. Turned out rushing over slick ice wasn't the best idea, he thought bitterly as tried to get up without embarrassing himself further.

"Are you alright?"

Well, there went the avoidance of embarrassment. Looking up, ready to jump on the defensive due to his humiliating fall, Dean's gaze was met by wide, concerned blue eyes, which belonged to a rumpled looking boy whose dark hair was in as much disarray as his sweater. "Yeah, fine, thanks," Dean replied gruffly, shifting to a squatted position to gather his scattered things.

"Snow's pretty bad this year, huh?" The boy said, kneeling beside Dean to help with the clean up.

"Yeah, it is," Dean replied, taking a stack of papers from the boy's outstretched grip as he fought down a red blush. "Look, thanks, but I've really got to be getting to class," he continued, standing with an internal wince at his sore tailbone.

The boy paused for a moment, as if a question hung on the edge of his lips, but seemed to dismiss it, simply nodding his welcome. Taking that as a farewell, Dean headed quickly off to class, sighing in relief when he made it through the door with just seconds to spare. English 101 was, as always, excruciatingly boring. Listening to the 70-something professor drone on about the intricacies of Shakespeare's early works was always a surefire sleep aid; in fact, instead of counting sheep, Dean had taken to imagining his lectures. Thankfully, however, the class was over in an hour, finally allowing Dean the freedom of a weekend long overdue.

Taking careful steps once he was outside again, the Winchester headed for his dorm, the only unpleasant aspect of the walk being the bitter cold. That was, until he found himself on the ground once more. Confused for a few seconds as to what, or rather who, knocked him to the ground, Dean looked to his side, surprised to find the same blue-eyed boy on the ground next to him, a baseball held in his hand.

"My apologies," he said, standing to offer Dean his baseball-free hand, "I over estimated the catch," he continued, gesturing to another boy in the distance with whom he'd been playing.

Dean was a bit put off by being knocked over, and had opened his mouth to reply with something smart when he noticed the sincere regret in the other's eyes. "Um, you know what, it's fine. Happens all the time," he replied with half a smile. "Guess it's just not my day for walking."

The boy smiled at that, the expression almost endearingly awkward. "Guess so," he agreed lightly, extending his hand. "I don't think I learned your name earlier."

Taking the hand proffered to him, the Winchester shook it firmly as he was always taught to, replying with a simple, "Dean."

"Nice making your acquaintance, Dean. I'm Castiel."

"Castiel. That's quite the mouthful," Dean replied, releasing the shake to readjust the disorganized papers still in his cold grasp. "Do people ever shorten it?"

"Not usually," Castiel replied, shrugging under the size-too-big sweater that looked like it hadn't been smoothed out since 1910. "But I guess it wouldn't be a problem."

Dean smiled, ignoring the then persistent beginnings of pain in his tailbone. "Cas it is, then."


January 30, 1930

Pulled from his memories by the sound of the front door squeaking open, Dean smiled at Castiel as he entered, snow dusted almost artfully upon his shoulders.

"Good afternoon, handsome," Castiel greeted with a smile, the expression highlighting his cold flushed cheeks.

Rising from the chair he was seated in, Dean picked up the letter he had just sealed and crossed the room to give his boyfriend a light kiss. "You're happy," he commented, to which Castiel nodded.

"I was told today that if I kept up at the good rate I'm at, I'll be working the news columns sooner than they thought."

Beaming, Dean pulled Castiel into a hug. "That's great," he replied softly, the warmth in his voice matching the coziness in the apartment. "See? I told you people would like your writing."

Castiel simply smiled at that, giving Dean a grateful look before going to slip off his jacket. "What've you got there?"

Dean looked to the small parcel in his hand, holding it up for a better view. "Just a letter home. I was going to go send it now, actually," he replied, reaching around Castiel to grab his coat, slightly puzzled when the other pulled his back on.

"I'll go with you," Castiel explained at Dean's questioning glance, buttoning up his coat once again.

The walk was a rare one, as it was through snow. According to their neighbors, snow didn't stick often in the city. However, Dean and Castiel were used to the slick-soft pressurized crunch beneath their boots, and used the short few blocks to discuss the upcoming year. Everything seemed generally positive. Their jobs were fairly secure, and they had an affordable apartment and a low living cost; simply put, they were lucky. Moving across the globe tended to be a financially taxing event, but due to Dean's college-prepared business savvy, they'd made a workable budget before making the journey, and as a result were some of the better off immigrants. The future, they agreed by the time they'd made it back to the apartment, held nothing but opportunity and freedom.

Stepping into the warmth of the living space they happily shared, Dean and Castiel hung up their coats, both gravitating toward the fireplace they'd left on during their short walk to the post office.

"It sure is cold out there," Dean commented, holding his hands out before him to warm.

Nodding, the glanced at Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist a moment later. "It is," he agreed, eyes lightening with the humor of an unshared joke.

Catching the look in his boyfriend's features, Dean turned to him, curious. "What?"

"I was just remembering that day we got lost on that hike. It was colder, I think."


February 13, 1924

Dean and Castiel had been spending time together for a little under a month. After exchanging their respective names, they'd bumped into each other a few other times on campus, soon deciding it was best if they got to know each other. So, they'd gone out with groups of peers, went on double dates with pretty girls, and played catch between classes, naturally becoming fast friends.

It was a brisk afternoon when they planned the hike. The weather was due to remain clear for the weekend, prompting Castiel to suggest a walk around the woods that nearly bordered the campus. Dean was hesitant at first, as he never was one to do much hiking, but caved at the mention a few girls had agreed to come along. However, although the skies remained clear the day of the trip, the temperature dropped considerably, causing the girls and the rest of their newly formed group of friends to back out.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Two hours at the most," Castiel persuaded, pack already slung on his back as he stood outside Dean's dorm room.

Sighing, the Winchester grabbed his pack off a nearby desk, pointing a finger at his friend. "Two hours," he confirmed, following Castiel out of the building, who was defending himself with the false reassurance, "It isn't even that cold out."

Turned out, it was that cold. But, Dean, never being one to back out of something once he'd begun it, simply pulled his thick jacket tighter around his body as they entered the woods. "Only you'd suggest a hike in the middle of winter," he commented over a smirk, looking over to his friend. "There's nothing to look at but dead branches and frozen streams."

"It's nice to get some fresh air, though, isn't it?" Castiel replied, looking around him with a peace Dean hadn't yet seen.

Dean shrugged, a branch snapping obnoxiously beneath his shoe. "I guess."

The following hour of the hike was generally silent, save for the occasional complaint from Dean or the excited comment from Castiel when he'd spotted a beaver or deer. However, after the promised two hours, Castiel's excitement was dampened by how cold he'd gotten. Although they'd left campus at a decent time, the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, causing the temperature to drop another degree or two.

"Come on, Cas," Dean said, breaking the silence between them. "Let's head back."

Castiel nodded instantly in agreement, giving an awkward smile to Dean. "Sorry, I didn't expect it to get this cold."

"Now he admits it," Dean muttered under his breath, the jab seeming serious until a playful glint arose in his eye.

So, they began their walk out of the woods. At first everything seemed familiar, Dean and Castiel chatting about their upcoming week. That was, until the terrain became rough and uneven, Dean nearly slipping down a steep bank into an icy creek.

"Dean," Castiel said, confusion clear in his usually confident expression, "do you remember where we turned back there when we came?"

Dean thought for a long moment, the memories a jumbled mess of various animal sightings, dead branches, and dried leaves. "I don't remember," he replied, nervousness showing through his tone ever so slightly.

Both unable to place exactly where they were, the two walked on in an agreed direction, the land more even as they headed forward. However, even with the terrain no longer an issue, the sun had dipped lower in the sky by then, the long shadows cast in the early evening making the task of remembering where they were all the more difficult.

By the time it had grown dark enough for the two to be well and truly lost, Castiel turned to Dean, expression apologetic. "I thought we were going the right way," he said, a full body shiver running through him as a cold breeze ran through the trees.

Dean, again, wanted to retort with something smart, but held his tongue, knowing he too was responsible for watching their route. "We both did," he reassured with a hint of a smile, not wanting to make his new friend feel bad. "C'mon, I don't think we'll find our way out by night," he continued, facing up to the facts of the situation. "We've got to find some sort of shelter."

Licking his lips nervously, a poor habit he knew he should break, Castiel concurred with a nod, glancing behind his shoulder. "Didn't we pass a rock overhang a while back?"

"I think so," Dean agreed, memory conjuring up the image of a formation that barely categorized as a cave. However, it would do. So, before it was fully dark, the two boys backtracked slightly, finding their shelter for the night just as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

"I brought some bread and fruit, if you want some," Castiel offered, pulling out a few items from his backpack as they sat under the overhang, leaves crunching beneath them.

Dean accepted and they ate, shivering in silence, the only sound around them the occasional rustle of leaves, which they could only hope was a mouse or rabbit.

"Look," Dean started after a long while, fingers feeling numb and sore, "I think we should try to get some sleep. Maybe we should lean up against each other? I don't really want to lay on the cold ground."

"Alright," Castiel agreed, shifting so he was back to back with Dean, his head resting on his friend's jacket-padded shoulder. It was quite comfortable, until the breeze started up again. Thinking this was the coldest discomfort he'd ever felt and would ever feel, the blue-eyed boy sighed, shifting around to face his shivering friend. "I think," he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I think we should try to share warmth."

Dean looked to his friend as best he could in the near pitch blackness, confused at his meaning. "You mean- cuddling?" He asked, face heating up despite the air around them.

Castiel shook his head quickly. "No, just- Sharing warmth. If we don't, we could be at risk for hypothermia. I learned about it in my history class."

Dean paused, fully embarrassed at the situation they found themselves in. However, losing the tips of his fingers didn't sound better, so he nodded quickly despite the fact his friend probably couldn't see. "Okay," he agreed, shifting over to weave an awkward hand through the crook of Castiel's arm. It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon the two were close enough to share some warmth, their fingers slowly thawing under each other's limbs.

After a few rigid minutes, Dean forced himself to relax, Castiel following suit a moment later. Laying his head down upon his friend's shoulder, the Winchester found his face close to the other's neck, breath puffing in warm mists of air against his jugular. Although he would never admit it, the closeness to his new friend felt nice. In fact, if he thought about it later, he would remember a warm pool forming in his stomach, something borne of shy attraction and the slightest bit of romance. However, at that time, he was just happy to be warm, and fell asleep soon after with little effort.

Castiel, however, could not find an easy way to make it to his dreams. His body was hyper-aware of every shift of Dean beside him, each tiny movement causing his heart rate to increase. He'd felt this feeling before, with girls, but never with another boy. Of course, he'd heard about homosexuals, but never put much thought into it, not until that night. However, his fatigue soon won over, prompting him to chalk everything up to the effects of the cold so he could finally get to sleep. Denial, though unhealthy, worked in the moment, allowing Castiel to drop into unconsciousness a few minutes later, his senses filled with the soft scent of Dean's shampoo.

They'd awoken the following morning to sunlight hitting their faces, prompting them to untangle as quickly as possible. It was a bit awkward at first, but soon they were back to walking, both talking while denying simultaneously in the back of their respective minds the situation they'd just been through. Turned out the daylight made things easier to navigate, and within minutes they found the path they'd come in on, both put off by the fact it was a mere half a mile from where they stayed the night. However, all disgruntlement aside, they made it back to the campus, summarizing the whole experience as a strange, uncomfortable adventure.


January 30, 1930

Dean sighed at the fond memory, leaning his head upon Castiel's shoulder just as he had that night. "I was so cold," he commented. "Still can't believe you dragged me out there."

Castiel's lips twitched at the hint of a smile, his hand squeezing Dean's hip gently. "You agreed to come," he retorted, licking his lips in the habit he'd never broken. "Besides, it was certainly a nice way to get closer."

Dean let out an incredulous, playful scoff. "You've no idea how embarrassed I was."

"I do," Castiel replied, shifting to give Dean a tender kiss. "But I think we're okay now."

Dean smiled. "Me too."