Dean groaned when he came to. His head hurt like hell and he couldn't remember anything... Obviously he had landed himself in a bed. Had there been a guy last night? A rush of panic flooded through him. What if something had happened? No... No... Memories came back slowly. He did not remember flirting with anyone. Plus, he was still wearing clothes.

His eyelids felt so heavy that he had to make an effort to open them. The first blurry image that reached his brain was a face, some guy with short, dark hair. Dean struggled to keep his eyes open and slowly, the foreign face came into focus. The bloke was handsome and his eyes had a startling blue. Before Dean had a chance to look around and see where he was, a deep voice said: "Morning, sunshine! Slept well?"

The face had moved away a little and he saw that he was in a small room. His mattress was seemingly lying on the floor. The walls were invisible behind posters and pictures, and there was no other furniture except a beaten-down couch.

"Where am I?", he asked.

"You're currently occupying my bed, if that has escaped your notice", the dark-haired guy told him with a grin. He sat next to the mattress, seemed to be Dean's age.

"Very funny, really", Dean shot back. "Who are you?"

"Call me Angel."

Dean snorted. "I'd rather not. Don't you have a real name?"

"What if I don't? It's none of your business. To you and everyone else here, I'm Angel."

"Sorry about that, mate. How come?"

"Well, I didn't like Puppy too much, but the others agreed it should be something that sounded innocent. So I decided I could live with Angel", the guy explained, seeming completely earnest. Dean bit back a laugh. Angel was hilarious, he'd obviously had a knack for ending up with the weird ones once again.

He didn't think that discussing that ridiculous nickname would bring him any further, so he just went with it and tried to get more information out of the guy. Be nice, he told himself and smiled a little at Angel.

"Alright, Angel. My name's Dean. Where are we?"

"This is a squat in the Northern quarters, near Mills Road."

A squat. Punks, then? Though this bloke looked a little too neat to be a punk. He wore a beige trenchcoat, hello, what kind of punk did that? One who was called Angel, Dean pondered and tried not to look too amused.

"You brought me here?"

The guy nodded. "What's the last thing you remember?", he wanted to know. There were actually smudges of black khol around his eyes, Dean noticed. Maybe more punk than the trenchcoat gave away... The piercing blue eyes looked at him expectantly.

Dean frowned, thinking back. "I was out for a drink downtown. After I left the pub, things get blurry... I might have gone down to the river... But I was alone, as far as I know."

Angel nodded again and smiled. He looked nice, although Dean still thought he might be a little nuts. At least the punk bit explained the whole nickname thing.

"Well... I found you by the river this morning, under the brigde near here. It's freezing outside, so I thought I could bring you here to warm up."

Remembering something, Angel reached behind him and produced a steaming mug. "By the way – Coffee?"

"Yeah, actually..." Positively surprised, Dean all but beamed at the guy, sat up and reached for the mug. "Thanks, Angel."

The other boy smiled. "So, Dean. How come you were drinking on your own yesterday?"

For a moment, Dean just took a deep breath of the hot coffee scent and tried to decide if he could tell the truth. But Angel seemed alright – if Dean's intuition was still intact. Plus, for whatever reason, he desperately wanted to talk about it. So he took another breath and went for it.

"My parents... sorta kicked me out 'cause I told them I was gay", he explained quietly. It hurt, now that his anger and rage had faded. It hurt to know that they could not stand him living under their roof.

Surprise flashed over Angel's face before it became angry and sad at the same time. He looked directly at Dean, empathy in his expression. "Fuck, Dean... I'm sorry. I really am."

"Don't be, 's not your fault anyway", Dean murmured and looked away, relieved by Angel's tolerant reaction. He took a gulp of coffee and reveled in the warmth that settled in his stomach. It struck him how fucked up the whole situation was – a punk had kind of rescued him from under a bridge and now he sat here and casually discussed his sexuality with him. A complete stranger, while he had needed two years to pluck up the courage and tell his parents. Hell, only two of his friends knew!

"You know..." Angel's deep, kind voice interrupted his thoughts. "This is a weird coincidence."

"What?", Dean asked flatly.

"I've been living here since I left my parents' home", Angel explained. "That was about a year ago... I had a relationship with a guy and knew they wouldn't accept it... So I ran, because I didn't see any other way. They needed four days to realize I was gone."

Deans head snapped up to look at the other boy. "What?", he asked again.

Angel smiled sadly. "The difference between you and me is that at least you had the guts to tell them."

Now Dean couldn't help but smile in return. "Didn't do me much good, though", he said.

"That's true."

"Can I ask you something?", Dean blurted before thinking about it.

Angel shrugged. "Go on."

"It's just... I don't mean to be rude, but... Was it worth it? Running, I mean?"

The boy didn't seem offended, he rather looked thoughtful. Dean took another sip of his coffee and had to admit that the hot drink did him good, he felt cold. At least his hangover wasn't half as bad as he deserved, seeing as he obviously had blacked out after leaving the pub.

"Well..." Angel's answer came hesitantly. "Yes and no. Pete broke up with me a month after that happened and I've been on my own since then. So in this respect... no. But on the other hand, I'm sure it would've happened sooner or later. I know my parents are homophobic and they would never accept me, so it was inevitable. I don't want to deny who I am... The people here know I'm gay and it's never been an issue. They let me be myself without making a big deal of it, you know?"

Dean nodded. "How many people live here?"

"About fifteen to twenty. Sometimes it's a little crowded, but I like the company."

They were interrupted by a voice from outside the room. "Angel! You there?"

"Coming!", he answered. "Can I leave you for a minute?"

Dean nodded. When Angel got up and left, Dean noticed the dirt on his trenchcoat. It really was an odd piece of clothing for a punk, but it fit the guy. He wore combat boots, faded black jeans and Dean thought he had seen a glimpse of a Rise Against shirt underneath the coat.

As soon as he was alone in the room, he looked closer at his surroundings. The posters, wallpapers and photographs were a random collection of people and bands. There were concert tickets, autographs, pictures taken in a photo booth. On some of them, he could spot Angel. The room could've been the backstage area of an old rock club or something, Dean thought. He liked it a lot. The couch at the opposite wall looked quite old and was covered it with a giant, colourful quilt.

Turning around, he discovered that there was another piece of furniture in the room: A small dresser stood in the corner, made of dark wood. That was it, no cupboard or table or chair or anything... Strangely, the room did not seem empty – but then again, it was quite small.

Dean turned around to peek out of the window. He had no idea what time it was, but judging by the light it had to be at least noon, if not early evening. Come to think of it, where was his phone? His money? He felt for his pockets. There was his wallet, good. And his phone was there as well – no missed calls. Typical. He felt bitter and yet he should've known that they didn't care anymore. Still... he couldn't help being disappointed.

It was 17:30 pm, he must've slept quite some time. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember much after leaving the pub. A foggy image of the bridge was there, but no more. He hadn't had that many blackouts in his life and he hated that feeling of not knowing what had happened. At least Angel had brought him here, it really was too cold outside to fall asleep under a bridge.

Speak of the devil (haha), there he was. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey." He smiled. Yep, Rise Against shirt, he confirmed as Angel leaned in the doorframe.

"So... I don't know what your plans are, but if you need a place to stay you're welcome to crash here. I mean, you don't have to, it's just an offer, but my roommate is gone anyway, so it wouldn't be a problem. If you have friends you can go to, I won't hold you back of course, you can-"

"Angel", Dean cut him off and grinned at him. "It's okay. I really don't have anywhere else, so... Thanks for the offer, I guess that's the second time you're saving my ass today."

The dark-haired boy laughed. "You're welcome. I'm always there for a damsel in distress."

"Sure, because I'm so much of a damsel", Dean deadpanned.

Angel snorted. "Of course. Hey, want me to show you around?"

A few hours later, when the crescent moon shone through the window, Dean lay on the couch and tried to make out Angel's face in the half-light. He had taken a shower, they had eaten with the others and talked for a while at the fireplace in the living room. Charlie, Sam and the others had decided unanimously that Dean should be called Princess for now, because of the whole damsel-in-distress-story. He'd protested vigorously and wanted something more badass, Hunter would've been cool, but they told him it wasn't a real nickname if you chose it for yourself. So he grudgingly lived with Princess – at least it meant that they accepted him. He'd even told them the real reason why he'd been kicked out since he knew they had no problem with Angel being gay. They had of course made a few jokes on their behalf, but no one had been rude.

"Angel?", he asked in the silence of the room.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you take me with you? When you found me, I mean?"

A blanket rustled. Angel lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. "I dunno... Maybe it was just the fact that you looked so... innocent? Vulnerable is the wrong word... I mean, you don't look like a homeless person. You're young and you wear decent clothes, it was obvious that you 'only' had a few drinks too much." He paused. "I didn't want you to freeze to death, you looked like you're a nice enough person."

Dean smiled to himself. "Thanks, Angel", he said quietly. "For everything."

"Don't mention it, it's nothing."

They stayed silent for a few moments, only their breaths and the occasional rustling filling the dark room.

"Hey, Dean? I'm curious... You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but what exactly happened with your parents? What did you tell them?"

"Well... I mean, I've known that I'm gay for more than two years now. At first, I was a little scared, uncertain, you probably know that. I didn't tell anyone. Then I told a friend, and he reacted quite well. For him, it was no big deal, but I never knew what my parents would say. I didn't want to tell them as long as I didn't have to... and I've never had a boyfriend, so I saw no reason to push things. But... um... I dunno really, I can't explain it, it's just that I reached a point where I couldn't keep this from them. They're my parents, for god's sake, and this is something so... important for me, I just needed to tell them. I didn't talk about it with anyone, two of my friends know, but they're both straight. Maybe... I think that I got more self-confident over time and then I suddenly wanted to talk about it.

So I spent a lot of time thinking about how I would tell them, but in the end it happened very quick. We sat at the dinner table and I... I kind of just blurted it out. 'I'm gay', I said and it went down from there. They looked at me, just shocked. Then disgusted, disappointed. Angry, I guess. 'Are you sure?', my mom whispered and I nodded yes. The silence was so awkward and I wanted to run but I wanted them to understand. I was so relieved that they knew and kinda terrified by their reaction...

Then my dad said, more to himself than to anyone else, 'my son's a fag. A goddamned faggot' and then I lost it. I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't cry, but at that moment I just couldn't handle it. My dad said something... about me whining like the pussy I am and that... that he didn't want someone of my sort in his house. Well... his intention was clear and I couldn't have stayed anyway. I ran to my room, grabbed my wallet, phone and keys and left. I had no idea where to go or what to do, I simply needed to get away..."

Dean had to fight the tears again when he retold the story. He squeezed his eyes shut. But it had been audible in his voice and of course Angel hadn't missed that.

"Fuck. These assholes... I'm so sorry, Dean."

A moment of silence, then he heard Angel get up from his bed and the couch sagged where he sat down. Dean opened his eyes when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "I'm not hitting on you... but if you need a hug, I'm here", Angel said softly, grinning. His voice immediately calmed Dean and he smiled a little.

"Thanks", he replied, pushed himself in a sitting position and buried his head in Angels neck before he could change his mind. Two strong arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him closer into the embrace. He felt Angel's breath against his skin and his warmth... he smelled good.

Although it was kind of inappropriate, Dean couldn't help thinking that this was probably the most intimate touch he'd ever shared. He tried to ignore the fact that it turned him on and instead decided to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

The next day was – thankfully – Sunday, which meant no work. Dean woke up quite early anyways, because Angel had to get up. The punk would be conducting a jujitsu training course that day and had warned him that he had to leave at 9. Dean had been surprised and quite impressed when he learned that Angel wore a black belt in jujitsu and worked as a teacher in a martial arts studio.

He awoke when Angel's alarm went off, but he turned around and tried to find sleep again. A few minutes passed in which he heard the other guy shower. Thoughts invaded his mind, unininvited but coming to stay.

The memory of his father's reaction hit him with full force. The sheer disgust in his voice had been unbearable, although the calmer, disbelieving behavior of his mother had felt just as bad. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Would he be able to go back home? Did he want to go back? He wasn't sure if he was ready to face his parents right now. He wasn't sure if they'd even want to see him.

But he had to get at least some of his stuff, he'd left with nothing except his valuables. Angel had said that he was welcome to stay here for some time, but how long? He didn't want to be a liability, didn't want to be rude. They had all been very kind to him, he simply wasn't sure if they'd take him in if he asked...

His train of thoughts was interrupted when he heard Angel enter the room. Dean opened his eyes to the sight of a naked, tanned back and muscular shoulders, plus a towel wrapped around slender hips (and, from what he could guess, a quite handsome ass). Angel opened the drawers of his dresser and got out a few items of clothing, then turned around and met Dean's gaze.

"Enjoying the view?" He gave a flirty wink and raised an eyebrow.

Dean felt his blush rise immediately and tried to come up with an answer – failing miserably, because Angel's front view was even better than the back. Jujitsu training obviously had had quite an effect and Dean was way to sleepy to register that his staring was probably becoming rude.

Angel on the other hand didn't seem to mind that much. He chuckled in amusement and made for the door, stopping again in the frame.

"Hey, do you want to tag along today? It's a beginner's course, you could even join in if you like."

Dean managed to concentrate on listening and answering instead of water drops on smooth skin and defined muscles. "Yeah, I'd like that. I should probably go get some of my stuff though, I didn't take anything with me on Friday..."

"We can do that on the way back, if you want. The course will be finished around 4, so there should be enough time to stop by at your house."

Dean considered the offer for a moment. Some kind of workout would really be good for him, to let off a little steam. Plus, he was quite interested in martial arts but had never tried anything out in that direction. He was just scared to go back home and face his parents, no matter how ridiculous that felt.

Angel seemed to guess his train of thoughts and added: "If it helps, I'll go with you and tell your dad a few things while you get your stuff. Or I could punch him in the face for what he said to you."

Dean chuckled and finally found his voice. "Sounds tempting."

"Good. Get your ass out of bed, put some clothes on, we leave in 30 minutes. I'll give you some of my stuff, it should fit. Oh, and it would be good if you ate a little before the training", he added.

Dean nodded automatically and while Angel disappeared to get dressed, he quickly checked his phone. Still no calls. A message from a friend, but nothing from his parents. He threw back the covers and let out a sigh. The moment he sat up, Angel rushed back into the room wearing black sweat pants and a slim black shirt with a logo on it. The guy looked way to good, Dean noted quietly... Although he probably preferred the towel outfit.

"Bathroom's free now", Angel said and handed him a pile of clothes. "Try these. Towels are in the cupboard under the sink."

"Thanks", Dean replied, took the clothes and left to get dressed. Afterwards, he joined Angel in the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. They talked about jujitsu and martial arts, Angel told him a little about the studio where he worked. He himself had started training when he was eight years old, which was why he'd earned his black belt at quite a young age.

They took the bus to the gym where the training course would take place – the studio was too small, there would be over 50 participants for the course that day.

"I guess you'll find out my real name today, so I'd better prepare you", Angel said out of the blue during their bus ride.

"You have my attention", Dean responded with a grin. "I'm curious, let's hear it."

A small pause followed. Then: "Castiel."

"Castiel?", Dean repeated "I like that. Where does it come from?"

The dark-haired boy blushed. "It's... it's an angel name", he answered quietly. It sounded like a confession. Dean laughed disbelieving. "It's not", he chuckled.

Castiel blushed even more. "It is. And yes, it's awful, I know."

"It's not awful!", Dean exclaimed, still chuckling. "It's hilarious, because you're Angel. Was that a coincidence or did the others know when they chose the nickname?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but yes, they knew. It's still awful."

Dean shook his head. "Aww, pity. It would've been so much funnier if they hadn't known! Though I don't get what your problem is, man, that's actually a really cool name."

"Yeah, well, nobody made fun of you because of it", Castiel said, making it sound funny but failing to cover the small trace of bitterness in his voice.

"True. Why don't we agree on Cas? What d'you think?"

Angel looked at him sceptically, but he nodded. "I might be able to live with that."

"Great", Dean beamed. "Calling you Angel in public does feel a little weird, you know?"

That finally broke the remaining tension, Castiel started laughing and Dean followed suit.

During the course, they ended up calling the Cas "sensei" anyway, because that was Japanese for teacher or master. It felt a little strange to see the guy in that kind of authority position, but Dean was positively surprised how well the young man played the part. There were quite a few people of his age in the course and they had a lot of fun practicing throws or joint locks. Dean found that it required quite a lot of concentration to get the grip and everything right. Meanwhile, Cas seemed to appear everywhere and was always patiently explaining things again.

Sometime around three, the course came to an end. Dean was exhausted, but excited – jujitsu was way more fun than he had expected. Plus, he had enjoyed the distraction from all thoughts related to his parents. Unfortunately though, he couldn't escape that particular problem forever.

After the shower (during which he tried not to ogle Cas too much, or at least not too obviously), they headed to his parent's house. It wasn't a long bus ride, but enough to become bloody nervous. Angel next to him was quiet, though his mere presence helped to keep Dean from freaking out.

"So, I heard we're invited to a relaxed tea party?", Cas quipped when they were on the way from the bus stop to the house.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well... I'd say we just go get my stuff and leave. I don't expect a friendly welcome, but you know what happened."

"Alright. If you want me to, I'll still punch your dad, though I suspect we don't need extra hostility."

"Amen", Dean murmured.

"It's gonna be okay", Cas reassured him. "Don't listen to them. We'll get what you need and then we'll be gone again."

Dean nodded, unable to swallow around the lump in his throat. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt so scared. The feeling wasn't eased by the thought that he shouldn't have to be afraid of his parents, of all people.

When they reached the house, his nerves were on edge. He fumbled for the keys and opened the door with shaking hands. The first glimpse showed an empty hallway. He took a tentative step forwards and peeked in the direction of the living room – where his parents sat, actually drinking tea. Both got up as they saw him enter.

Dean was thankful for the quiet presence next to him and even took a step inside the living room. Of it's own accord, his hand gripped Castiel's and held on tight, needing backup and strength. Cas squeezed reassuringly, standing silently next to him.

"What are you doing here?", Dean's father barked.

"I live here", he retorted with a trace of defiance in his voice.

"Is that so?" His father sounded dangerously calm. "I don't think so. You don't belong here. You're not my son. What did you think, coming here with your fairy boyfriend? He's probably the one who infected you in the first place. You're abnormal, disgusting, I can't even look at you! I didn't raise you to become a goddamn faggot, God knows that, and there you went and decided to become one! You chose this! I fucking taught you better! I'm so ashamed of you, God, how could you do this to us? How could you do this to your mother? I don't believe-"

And then he went silent. Very, very quickly. And Dean didn't even have time to process any of this, because Castiel was kissing him, but why, how did that happen, and seriously – what the fuck?! His brain shut down milliseconds after soft lips touched his own, he drew in a surprised breath and automatically stumbled closer to the other boy. He felt hands cupping his face, a caress, but he couldn't react except for the responding pressure of his lips.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun. Dean vaguely registered his parents standing in front of him, completely paralyzed. Then Castiel began to speak. His voice was a little rough, but he sounded very determined.

"Thanks for shutting the fuck up. Now, let's do this in a more civilized manner: you keep your mouth shut, we get Dean's stuff and then we're out. Simple, quick, no discussions."

He demonstratively put his arm around Dean and ushered him out, not waiting for a reaction or another tirade.

"Where is your room?", he asked quietly.

"Upstairs", Dean managed and lead the way. They packed without much talking, Dean just stuffed his most important things and some clothes into a duffle bag and his large backpack. His mind was spinning. Parts of his father's speech echoed through his thoughts, the look on his mothers face – a mixture of terror, disgust, pity. And he still tasted Cas on his lips, which really didn't help his current state of complete and utter confusion.

About ten minutes later, they left the house. Dean could hear the hushed conversation of his parents in the living room, but he did not look back. He let the front door fall shut behind him, then they walked to the bus stop in silence.

They did not come far. As soon as the house was out of sight, Dean collapsed on the sidewalk, burying his face in his hands. He felt so weak. Tears filled his eyes and a moment later, he was crying like the world had just ended. Cas was instantly at his side, dropping to the floor next to him and simply pulling Dean into his arms. He didn't say a word until Dean had calmed down a little.

Castiel's voice was soft as he spoke. Dean heard it resonating in the other boy's chest as his head still lay there – very comfortably, by the way. The smell of Cas' shower gel and his warmth surrounded him.

"Are you okay?" There was concern in Angel's tone.

"Mmm", Dean hummed. "As far as that's possible, yeah."

"I'm sorry that I kissed you."

That needed a moment to come through.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry that-"

"Yeah, I know, but why?", Dean asked, confused. He lifted his head from Castiel's chest to look at the other boy.

"I... Just... Your father was impossible and I wanted him to shut up without starting a discussion or yelling at him. It was a spontaneous idea, but I should've asked you, I'm sorry."

Cas' blue eyes looked worried, concern clear in his expression. This time, it was Dean who had the spontaneous idea: he lifted a hand to Castiel's neck, pulling the guy down to kiss him softly. Cas responded immediately and thus kept Dean from retreating again. Instead he slightly tilted his head and opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to meet. Fingers tangled in strands of hair, bodies pressed closer together, breaths came out like sighs.

Their eyes met as they reluctantly broke apart after an indefinite amount of time.

Dean blushed and cleared his throat. "Don't be sorry", he said and smiled tentatively.