Sandstorms- Destiel- Supernatural

See You Around

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I Am Human, and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does" -The Smiths 

 

 

 

 

        There was nothing special about Dean Winchester. He was a twenty-two year old man, a mechanic, who was normally busy trying to make enough money to take care of his younger brother, who was trying really hard to make it through high school and go to Stanford. 

      He didn't really have a lot of time for himself.

He had been raised in a way that made him hide his anger and sadness, and not think much of his feelings, simply live life and take care of Sam.

Dean liked pie, Led Zeppelin, once his father's, now his Impala, (which he called baby and took extra good care of.) and he liked to write.

He doesn't know it yet, but Dean also really likes guys. Well, at least, one in particular. Whom he meets very soon.

At that time, Dean Winchester was sitting outside of a grocery store, writing in a notebook and enjoying the few minutes of solitude and peace before he had to go back to work.

When the elder-Winchester was small, he wanted to be an author.

A great author, who would make people smile, and cry and laugh.

But, he never had enough money to put both him and Sam through college, and besides, he wasn't all that good. He was better at fixing cars.

But he still loved it.

The sun was shining warmly on him, the sky was a cloudless bright and beautiful blue, and the wind was blowing ever so slightly. It was a perfect day. It was Thursday, too. Dean's favorite day of the week.

He was finishing his sentence, when suddenly the slight wind became a gust of wind and the piece of notebook paper was ripped away and began to zip through the air.

"Dammit." cursed the elder-Winchester quietly.

The piece of notebook paper flew right into Castiel Novak.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*

        There was nothing special about Castiel Novak. A twenty year old man, an artist, who was normally daydreaming and awkwardly shuffling around town, drinking warm things and reading poetry.

He had too much time to himself.

He had been raised in way that made him bound to depression, and a little bit shy, but still equally sarcastic. He was going to college, and he was doing well, but he felt incomplete.

Castiel liked peppermint tea, The Smiths, the beach and early mornings. Also, he liked men. He hadn't met very many that he was able to connect with, and he didn't have very much experience with them, but he most certainly was attracted to them.

He doesn't know it yet, but soon he's going to meet someone different, someone special, and this happens very soon.

At that time, Castiel was walking around downtown, a travel mug filled with tea in one hand, and his sketchbook in the other.