~Dean's POV~

That night, all Dean could think about was Castiel. His beautiful eyes, his tan trench coat, his scruffy black hair. And his voice. God, his amazing, amazing voice.

Dean had known he was bisexual for a few years now, but he had never expected this. Such intense feelings for a guy he barely knew. Just thinking about it made him like Cas even more. Dean couldn't wait to see him again. They had to meet up before work. Maybe get lunch or something. Then it struck him. Dean leaned across his bed and snatched up his phone from the nightstand. He sent a quick text to Castiel, not caring that it was three in the morning and that Cas was probably asleep.

Hey, want to come over and practice songs tomorrow? I was thinking we might be able to duet. -DW

He waited anxiously for a reply.

Five minutes later, Dean's phone buzzed in his hand. He hurriedly opened up the new message.

Okay. I'd like that. Can you pick me up around 9:30?-CN

Can do.What's your address?-DW Dean typed back.

Pick me up at the vacuum cleaner store on Baker Street.-CN

That was kind of weird. Did Cas live at a vacuum store?

Sure. See you tomorrow -DW Dean sent. He sighed and sank back down into his bed. Now that he and Cas had set a time and place to meet, he could sleep peacefully. He burrowed into his pillow and shut his eyes.

****

The sunlight streamed in from the window, waking Dean. He groaned, sat up, and ran his fingers through his bedhead. Something special was happening today, but he couldn't remember what it was. Then it hit him. Cas. Practicing. Vacuum place. His eyes flew open, and he looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was 9:05, and he had to pick Cas up in 25 minutes. Shit. He surveyed his messy apartment. Double shit. Dean leapt out of bed, threw on some clean clothes, brushed his teeth, then did his best to tidy up. When his place looked halfway decent, he rushed outside to his Impala, which was in her usual parking spot. It was only after he pulled out of the lot and was on his way that he realized he was very low on gas. Cursing, Dean had to drive to the nearest gas station to fill his tank. He climbed in the car and checked the time. 9:20. Goddammit. It would take at least 20 minutes to get to Cas' place from here. He roared out of the gas station and pulled into the road, disregarding both the traffic and the speed limit.

Still, it was nearly 9:40 when Dean pulled up to the Hoover store. Cas had been anxiously waiting outside, his guitar case slung across his back. "At first I was worried you'd forgotten," he said as Dean stepped out of the car. "Sorry, I had a rough morning," Dean apologized as he opened the passenger door for Cas and placed his guitar in the backseat. He climbed back in and started the Impala.

"So, is it okay to ask why I had to pick you up at a vacuum cleaner store?" Dean asked as he started to drive, much slower than he had been.

Cas blushed. "I, uh, I live there."

Dean almost slammed on the brakes. "What?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go, so Frank let me sleep in his guest bedroom as long as I pay rent. It's not so bad. I mean, it's small but a least it's a home."

"You couldn't stay anywhere else? Not even an apartment?" Dean had a hard time focusing on the road.

Cas shook his head. "Can't afford one."

"Jesus, Cas, that's no way to live."

Castiel looked defensive. "What? I like the place, I like Frank. I'm comfortable, for the moment."

"But, don't you want to do more than singing on the streets for income? That's not a good way to earn money, especially if you want your own place."

Cas sighed. "I've never told anyone this, but my big dream is to become a professional singer. Like, recording albums and doing concerts and stuff. It's stupid, I know. But I'm not good at anything else. I can't cook. I can't own a shop. I can't fix vacuums." He stared at his lap.

"Hey," said Dean glancing briefly away from the road to look at Cas, "I can't do any of that stuff either. And I also want to become a big-shot performer like Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran. I just don't know how to do it, you know? It's not like the owner of a record company is going to pop up into my life and say 'I want you to make an album'. It just won't happen. So I get it. And I don't care if your dream is stupid, because I've got the same stupid dream. So if we're gonna be lameass singers with high hopes, let's be lameass singers together, okay?"

Cas laughed. "You suck at pep talks."

"Damn right." Dean smiled.

"So," said Castiel, "how did you end up at the Roadhouse?"

"I didn't have money for college, but I could play guitar, so I guess I just ended up here and took a job." Dean shrugged.

"Your parents couldn't provide for you?" Cas asked, which was a bad idea. Dean tensed up. "They died." he said shortly. "Junior high. It was a fire. I got my brother out, but they didn't make it."

"Oh." said Cas. "I'm sorry. My parents died in a car crash when I was very young."

"I'm sorry," said Dean.

"Thanks," replied Cas. Quickly he steered the conversation away from dead parents. "So, you said you had a brother?"

A smile broke out across Dean's face. "Yeah, Sammy. He's a lawyer now, and married."

"That's great!" Cas exclaimed.

"Yeah," Dean said wistfully, "He's awesome. We keep in touch. Oh, hey, look, we're here."

The Impala pulled into her usual parking spot and Dean killed the engine. "So, what are we going to do, musicwise?" Cas asked, making sure to snatch up his guitar as they exited the car and began to walk to the apartment entrance. "I was thinking we could share some songs we're working, maybe find new ones," said Dean causally, trying to hide the fact that his heart was thumping hard against his ribs. He held the door open for Cas and they strode to the elevator. Dean pressed the button, and they started traveling upwards.

When they reached Dean's floor, he led Cas across the hall, then unlocked his door, number 237. He led the way inside.

~Cas's POV~

The first thing Cas noticed when he entered Dean's apartment were the Post-It notes stuck everywhere. Literally, everywhere. The walls, the tables, even the TV were covered in them. Dean must have noticed Cas' staring, because he blushed a deep red. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I totally forgot about those," he babbled, trying frantically to pull down all the Post-Its on the nearest wall. Cas stopped him. "No, it's okay. What are they for?"

Dean looked embarrassed. "Um, I like to put up notes. To remind myself of important things. Usually I'm pretty good with throwing them away when I'm done, but I've been kind of busy lately." He continued to rip them off and throw them in a small wastebasket. "You can put your stuff down if you want," he told Cas, who was still marveling at the place. "This is very nice," Cas said as he set down his guitar on a worn out couch. Dean laughed. "No offense, but it isn't. When Charlie came here to have a Lord of the Rings marathon, her first words were 'This is the nicest dump I've ever seen.'"

"She seems like quite a character."

"Oh, you have no idea." Dean cracked a grin. "So, what are you thinking of performing tonight?"

"I didn't really think about that," said Castiel nervously as he sat down next to his guitar. "I guess I'll just do some of the stuff I usually sing."

"That's a nice start, but you're going to need to expand your repertoire," said Dean, sitting down next to Cas. "Songs that are in your range, but not overused. Can you think of any?"

"Um, not really." Cas twisted his hands in his lap.

"That's okay, I have some ideas." Dean sifted through the notes stuck to the walls before finding a couple he liked.
"Here, look at these," he said, placing them in front of Cas. They read Yellow & Scientist-Coldplay, Daughters-John Mayer, Wonderwall-Oasis, and Iris-Goo Goo Dolls.

"These are just a few. I probably have more ideas somewhere," said Dean, looking around at the Post-Its all over the walls.

"No, it's okay. Thanks." Cas looked gratefully up at Dean. "This is a nice start."

((A/N: Sorry for the long and slightly boring filler. I promise the next chapter will have more action in it.))