A/N Was the Donald Trump from Misha's video Jim Michaels? I just gotta know (and if you haven't seen it, it's way now important than this book so go watch it)

Dean and Castiel claim a corner booth at the restaurant. Dean's still in a bad mood, but hopefully by the time they leave, he'll be feeling better.

Dean orders a beer, and Castiel has to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from telling him not to. Obviously, drinking and driving is bad, and there's no way he would let Castiel drive them home, but he doesn't want to put Dean in a worse mood by not letting him get a beer.

"So," Castiel says with a small smile, "Are you having fun yet?"

Dean takes a sip of beer. "No, not really."

Castiel sighs. "Can you pretend you're having fun?"

"I could try, but I feel like that benefits you more than it benefits me," Dean says. "And, no offense, but I don't think you're the one that needs cheering up right now."

"Okay, I see your point," Castiel says. "But I can't cheer you up if you're hell bent on moping around."

"Then good luck," Dean says.

Castiel sighs and rests his head on Dean's shoulder. "You're not making this easy."

"When do I ever make things easy?" Dean asks.

"Touché," Castiel says. "If I can't cheer you up, can I at least start talking about what we should do next?"

"Go for it," Dean says.

"Well, I was thinking we could go to LA and record the new album," Castiel says.

"But that's gonna take so long," Dean whines.

"Not really," Castiel says. "I don't think I'm gonna do much with it. I'll just pick, like, 15 songs and record them with my guitar. It'll barely be a pop album. I'd give it two days in the studio, max."

"Oh, that's not bad," Dean says.

"You could come watch," Castiel says. "I know you said you were interested in the whole songwriting process. It won't be the same because it'll just be acoustic, but if you're interested."

"I might as well," Dean says. "It's not like there's anything else to do over there."

"You could at least act excited for it," Castiel says. "It's kinda my thing, you know?"

"Football was my thing, and you never got excited over that," Dean reminds him.

"Well, no, but I was always afraid of you getting hurt." Castiel pats his leg lightly. "Case in point."

"Yeah, but still — wait."

"I'm waiting," Castiel says.

"You said this is your last album," Dean begins.

"Please don't say that that loudly," Castiel says. He doesn't want anyone to know that. He's not planning on ever announcing that. He'll just subtly stop recording music after its release. Fortunately, while there are people in view, they seem to be out of earshot.

"But this is your last album," Dean says. "I can't play football anymore. We're both basically retiring now. Like, at the same time."

"Retiring in our 20s," Castiel says. "Because that's not weird."

"It just means we have, like, 50 years to do absolutely nothing," Dean says.

"Just throwing this out there," Castiel says. "At some point in those 50 years, we could, I don't know, get married?"

"That is a great idea," Dean says. "I wish I had thought of that. I never even considered getting married."

Castiel holds up his hand, showing him the engagement ring. "Oh, no, I'm sure it never crossed your mind at all."

Dean smiles slightly at that. "That's a cool ring. Whoever got you that must be awesome."

Castiel rests his head on Dean's shoulder. "Yeah, he's pretty great."

Dean puts an arm around him, resting his head on top of the other boy's. "You know what the worst part of the last year-ish that you've been here has been?"

"Now I'm scared but what?" Castiel asks.

"We've basically ignored the doorbell the whole time, which means we missed the Girl Scouts and didn't get any cookies."

Castiel chuckles softly. "We'll have to do better next year."

"I just want some thin mints," Dean says. "It's the only thing that brings joy to this crippled, retired old man."

"You're literally 26," Castiel reminds him.

"Exactly," Dean replies.

"You're so weird," Castiel says, amused.

"Exactly," Dean repeats.

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Part of Castiel just wants to close his eyes and fall asleep in Dean's arms, but that's probably a bad idea in the middle of a restaurant.

"Hey, Dean?" Castiel says quietly.

"Hmm?" he hums.

"What are we supposed to do once my album's out and we're both done?" Castiel asks.

"I don't know," Dean admits. "But we'll think of something. We'll make it fun."

"For half a century, give or take?" Castiel says skeptically. "We've got the rest of our lives and nothing to do."

"I know," Dean says. "That's what I was complaining about, so now that we're on the same page, how 'bout Sioux Falls?"

"I thought you said that would get boring," Castiel reminds him.

"But at least it would be fun at first," Dean says. "As opposed to staying here, which would be a constant stream of boredom."

"Fair point," Castiel agrees.

"And we could see Alex again," Dean adds. "It's been a year, give or take. I think it's about time to see your niece — our niece? — again."

"Our niece," Castiel says. "And that alone is a good enough reason to go back."

"But after physical therapy," Dean adds. "So in a few months."

"Yay," Castiel deadpans. "Can't wait for a few more months staying in boring ol' Massachusetts."

"Hey, don't insult my state," Dean says.

"But you said the exact same thing earlier," Castiel reminds him.

"Yeah, I can do that," Dean says. "It's my state. You're not allowed to insult it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Castiel says sarcastically.

"You should be," Dean replies. "As should the cook, because I want my food and it's taking too long."

"I'm sure you'll survive another few minutes," Castiel says.

"I'll survive, sure, but will I truly live?"

"Philosophical questions don't work like that," Castiel tells him.

"Shh, let me do what I want."