A/N: Okay everybody. This is my new story. Our fearless leaders are destroying my feels and so is I Wish Circumstances Were Different, so I decided to write something kind of happy. I can't imagine one of them not being hunters, but I wondered what it would be like if Dean didn't know anything about the supernatural world. This story is like...90% fluff. I write it when I'm sad. And also, I like stories when two people fall in love and then just...never say anything about it for, like, ever, so yeah. Enjoy 3

ONE

Dean plops himself down on his sofa and stares at his television for a long period of time. Work sucks, Sammy sucks, accounting sucks, everything sucks. After a while, he pulls his tie off and tosses it to the ground, soon after his sport coat follows.

It's a clear night and it's beautiful. If only he didn't have to spend the night working until some late hours of the night for his fucking job, then he could actually enjoy it. Now, this fucking sucks. All he wants is to just relax. But, nope, sixty hours a week are spent either at the office of doing paperwork at home. And tonight really is no different. Ten o'clock at night and he's just getting home.

Fuck it. He's going to enjoy something whether his job allows it or not. He has a thin balcony and he climbs out onto it and breathes. The sound of the city below rushes past. Eight stories up. He leans his elbows against the railing and let's the wind brush through his fingers.

"Don't you look up at the stars and think about what it would be like to be up there?" There's a voice that pipes up and Dean looks over to his left. There, his neighbour, bright blue eyes and wind tousled hair. Dean blinks.

"No." The answer comes out must faster than he had intended. "No, I, uh, I fear the empty airways."

"Altophobia, Mr. Winchester?" The man takes a drag of his cigarette and smiles at Dean.

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh, come now, the mailman mixes up our mail all the time." And then as an afterthought. "Probably because I never called him back…" He clears his throat. "I'm Castiel."

"No last name?" Dean raises his eyebrows.

"How about some wine? Is your door open?" Castiel waves his hand. "Eh, no matter. I'll there in a sec." With that, he flicks his cigarette into the street and walks back into his house. In less than a minute, he's on the balcony with Dean, two wine glasses in hand and a bottle of 1999 red wine. "Let's pop this baby open."

"Whoa! This is an old bottle." Dean shakes his head. He can't even think of drinking this. Usually all he drinks is shit beer and cheap scotch.

"It's the newest I own. Don't flatter yourself." Castiel sets the glasses down and opens the bottle with a corkscrew that seemed to pop out of nowhere. "So, Dean. Tell me, what causes you to look so sad?"

"Nothing."

"Bull." He pours Dean his wine and then for himself. "To the simplistic carnal needs of human civilisation." He toasts.

"I'm not sure if I wanna clink to that." Dean holds his wine glass away from Castiel.

"Tough." He 'clinks' their glasses together anyway and takes a sip. A satisfied smile creeps onto his face. "You know something that wine and people have in common?"

"They both get better with age?" Dean ganders a guess before taking a sip. The rich taste blooms across his tongue and engulfs his senses. The ecstasy that poises itself on his tastebuds is imminent and he freezes for a moment. Wine is doing this to him. Forever had he been a beer man, but this...is sensational.

"You're almost correct." Castiel notices just how happy Dean is to be drinking this wine. "The appearance remains mostly the same. It's the taste that changes. People can look the exact same, but they can become so much better as they get older. Or they can become evil dicks or vaginas, I'm not a sexist, equal opportunity for all dirtbags." He pauses to take another sip. "Wine can also turn awful. It's called being corked which is a risk for aging wine. Just like how turning into a penis or vagina is for people."

Dean stares blankly at the man next to him with wide eyes. He wants to reply with something substantial to that. It had been kooky to say the least, yet truthful. "Who are you?" Comes out of his mouth instead.

"I'm Castiel. I'm your neighbour, Dean. I thought we had established this." Castiel shakes his head and then turns his eyes back to the sky. "For a first date, would you prefer brunch with mimosas and brioche, or a home-cooked pot roast with sauteed chanterelle mushrooms?"

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Are you attempting to answer my question with a question? Because that is the wrong way to do it." Castiel clicks his tongue in disappointment and drinks more wine.

"I'd prefer the pot roast to brioche."

Castiel turns his eyes away from the sky and looks at Dean with narrowed eyes. "Huh. Interesting. Do you not like brioche?"

"Someone has to be really good for me to enjoy their brioche."

"His or her." Castiel gently corrects before rushing on. "Tomorrow, you will receive a gift, courtesy of me. Do not question it. Just eat it."

"I'm not your Alice, Carroll." Dean says that as he sips his wine. Nothing contradictory about that. Not at all.

"Ooh, you're a references man. I suppose you'd have to be to be a financial planner."

Dean visibly pales at that. Castiel finishes his wine and then climbs onto the balcony ledge and sits down on it comfortably. "Cas! What the hell are you doing?"

"Relax, Dean. I'm not going to jump. I just enjoy the feeling of having the Universe spread itself out below me." Castiel swings his feet a moment then looks over at Dean with a smile. "You called me Cas."

"I'm sorry. I just thought you were going to jump and Castiel is too much to say…" He stops when he feels lips press against his forehead.

"It's okay. i don't mind the nickname, baby." Cas smiles and the pours himself another glass. "Keep drinking your wine. I don't dig people who waste."

"You aren't supposed to dig people at all."

Castiel turns and looks at Dean with a quizzical expression. "Was that...are you getting snarky with me, Dean?"

"Uh. No?" Dean sips his wine. "Merely saying that digging a person may get a little painful for the offended party."

"You are getting snarky." Castiel laughs. "And here I was thinking that you didn't have a sense of humour. Oh, how wrong I was."

"Is that why you kissed me?"

"Nope. I kissed you because you wanted me to." Cas looks down at the street. "You know how you do something and it seems okay while you're doing it, and then you look back on it at a later time and you think to yourself, 'self, what the hell was I thinking?'."

"All the time." Dean shakes his head and pulls himself away from the soothing sound of Castiel's voice. "Wait. What hell do you mean by I wanted you to kiss me?"

"Reassurance, Dean. Come now. You're better than this." Castiel sighs and then sips at his wine. "I'm rather impressed that something so simple can be so wonderful."

"Wine?" Dean is seriously starting to get confused by this basketcase.

"No." Cas turns his eyes onto Dean and fixes him with a stare so intense, Dean actually takes a half step back. "Company." Dean drinks more wine, just because he needs more alcohol in his system. He would usually drink whiskey and scotch and beer and down them because he could. But with wine, especially a fourteen-year-old bottle of wine, is not supposed to be downed.

"But I don't have anything profound to say. I mean...hell, I didn't even invite you over." Dean half-laughs and carefully cradles his wine in his hands.

"You did with your brain waves. And that's what matters. Words are irrelevant anyways." Castiel looks back at Dean with a smile. "Without you saying so, I can tell you're lonely, Dean."

"And you aren't?" It's a horrible comeback and as soon as it's out of his mouth, Dean realises it. He shakes his head. "Look, like most adults, the way it works is that we move out, start our lives, and we don't have time for other people anymore. That's just how it happens."

"It doesn't have to. The life you chose, Dean, doesn't have to be the one you continue to live. Anyone can get out of anything."

"What makes you so sure? I mean, from what I can see, you're a wine-appreciating, lock-picking crazy person who invokes existential crises." Castiel starts laughing. Dean glares at him. "What the hell? You're picking apart my life, and then you laugh?"

"Oh, Dean." Castiel shakes his head. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I wish I hadn't done, hadn't seen. And then a light came down from the sky and I decided then that I was done with all those bastards. Literal bastards, all of their parents died, or ran out on them, or something else along those lines." Cas looks down at Dean's glass. "Keep drinking."

Dean takes a sip on impulse and then stops. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"That's not my intention. It may be an outcome of my intention, but it's kind of tertiary."

"What do you do for a living?" Dean finishes his glass and Cas immediately fills it up again.

"I sell furniture to rich people."

"What? Why?"

"Now that's just rude. Those rich people need their couches and pillows on their credit cards without limits. Their lives are difficult, Dean."

"Now you're just being a sassy little shit."

"Some may say that that's a term of endearment." Cas swings back onto the balcony and places his hand over Dean's heart. "You shouldn't hide so often, Mr. Winchester." Dean feels his heart beat rush under Cas' fingers and steps back instantly. "You're a beautiful person on the inside. You should let people in some time. Eventually. No rush. Ultimately, the choice is yours."

"Cas…" Dean takes his time to search for the right words, but he can't find them. Nothing he wants to say is going to come out correctly. Little words are too complex and simple gestures are always grand and overwhelming. "I have to get back to work."

"As I said, take your time." Cas takes his glass of wine, finishes it, and then goes back into Dean's quaint apartment. "That wine is yours. Keep it. You need it way more than I do. Maybe one day...we'll pop open a 2010 bottle. But you'll have to buy it. I don't buy wine anymore. But, Dean," Castiel is suddenly serious as he turns around and fixes Dean with another one of those intense stares. "You need to open up a bit. If not to me or your brother, but to yourself."

Before Dean could ask how the hell Castiel knew he had a brother, the man had slipped through the front door and presumably back into his own apartment. Dean retrieves the rest of wine and sets it down on his coffee table. He just knows he's gonna need it to keep him going.

A/N: So that's chapter 1! Whoa! Cas is weird. He's not nearly as kooky as he seems in this chapter. Just a little...drunk. I suppose. It's all about the alcohol. I drink way too much. I really do. I write everything with a glass of wine or a mimosa or a screwdriver. It's awesome. I'm not an alcoholic, I just enjoy drinks every night. Okay, I'm rambling. Please tell me what you think! It's greatly appreciated and it makes me happy.