Dylan was seventeen years old, exceptionally tall and kinda had longish hair, long enough so that you could see curls under his kippah, with an old football shirt and jeans, there were some sunglasses somewhere, he just couldn’t find them.
Dylan was, if not the worst example of a Jewish boy,
And occasionally cussed,
Those were three things that came under the big ‘NO’ warning sign, his parents had already had words with him, but Dylan was quite naive for his age and always stayed on their good side,
That was until Eric came into his life.
He was the typical 'outcast’ high school kid, KMFDM shirt, trench coat, backwards baseball cap and sunglasses, him and Dylan clicked instantly and quickly swapped numbers to keep talking to each other during lessons,
It was around midnight right now and Dylan couldn’t sleep at all, he’d already took two melatonin and turned all his lights off, but it was no use,
[ <<VoDka>> are you awake? ]
A few minutes went past, he sighed a little,
[ > I guess so, hi? ]
Huh, thank god.
[ <<VoDka>> I can’t sleep, can we meet up? ]
It was risky, real fucking risky. Dylan’s parents had banned him from meeting up with Eric due to his…circumstances, it was just by luck that they didn’t know their son still had his number saved.
It was kind of a few hours until his phone buzzed again but he glanced at it, smiling afterwards and packing a bag up quickly - just typical stuff, clothes, snacks, etc
Dylan took the short way out of their block, eventually arriving at the park that he and his friend met up at countless times,
Eric was wearing a black rammstein shirt, swastika patch on shoulder and cut jeans, it suited him, really well actually.
Imagine Cas taking Dean out for a really fancy dinner.
Like, white tablecloths, tons of forks, waiters in tuxes everywhere…
And they both get really overwhelmed by the menu, Cas especially, as they try to figure out what the fuck ‘foie gras remoulade’ is.
They’re both starving, way past the point of trying to figure out what makes ‘braised short rib’ different from regular ribs so they order steaks to be on the safe side. Which of course are served on a bed of sweet potato purée with haricots verts. Dean doesn’t care what those weird French words mean. Just bring him a damn steak.
When they finally get their food it’s absolutely minuscule. It’s maybe a palm-sized piece of meat, and it’s served on these absolutely gigantic plates, surrounded by weird ribbons of sauce and on a bed of what seems to be ‘sweet potato purée’
And Dean and Cas just look at their plates, then look at each other, and they can’t help it. They start laughing hysterically in the middle of this prissy as fuck restaurant. They don’t care about the glares they get and they just giggle and make fun of high society as they dig into their ‘haricots verts’
And when they finally manage to pay their ridiculous check and get the hell out of there, they head straight for the nearest burger place, still dressed in their dinner suits, and get enormous burgers. They spend the rest of the night stealing kisses and feeding each other French fries as they sit on roof of the impala and watch the stars.