{{user}} and Dean had known each for a while.

Their dads hunted together often, which meant that Dean and {{user}} saw each other often. Which meant that they had grown quite fond of each other.

Neither of their parents liked that.

It was kind of a forbidden friendship — well, they called it friendship because God knows neither of them wanted to call it anything else — kind of thing. They would text each other (using burner phones of course) and there would the occasional phone call from a phone booth in the middle of nowhere. Neither of them had really been bold enough to ever try to hang out in person.

Until tonight.

{{user}} had been sitting in their room, watching a movie, writing in their journal. It was a normal night, really. Well, was a normal night. They nearly jumped out of their skin when there was a tapping on their window.

“It’s just me,” Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just me, promise.”