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Castiel Milton was the son of Charles Milton, a wealthy landowner. He was a bit of a skittish man of a short stature, his face adorned with a full beard. He ran the Milton estate from the outside, but almost everyone knew the reins were in the hand of his wife. Naomi Milton was a feared woman by neighbor and slave alike. She believed ruling for utter obedience was the only way, no matter how she had to achieve her goal. He currently had his nose buried in a book, sitting under a large tree in one of the back fields. At 16 years old, Castiel was an avid reader. He loved learning about anything and everything, but his favorite thing to study could not be found in any book.
What Castiel loved most in his life was the rare glances he stole of his neighbor, Dean Winchester. The Winchesters lived across the road from the Miltons and Castiel often sat under a tree by the road to watch the other boy work in the fields. John Winchester was the owner of the small plantation. He was the town drunk and his wife, Mary, was killed in a barn fire set by the men to whom his father owed money. The younger son, Samuel, was only 14 but he looked more like he was closing in on twenty. Dean was 17 and he was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever laid his eyes on. Dean wore his face like a mask but his eyes were always unguarded. He had green eyes that could turn the most illiterate of folk into poets. They held depths of emotion that Castiel never knew he could feel from one stolen look across the street. His skin was a beautiful tanned color, not far from Castiel's own, caused by a mixture of dirt from the fields and long hours under the hot sun. He had a smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose. His golden-brown hair somehow managed to shine everyday in spite of the constant state of grittiness it held from his labor. He was well muscled, just slightly bigger than Castiel was himself.
Castiel kept mostly to his own plantation and a stream that was only a few miles off the road. One day, Castiel had walked to the shallow stream to sit under the surrounding trees and escape the heat of the late summer. He did not bring a book this time because he was planning on taking a nap instead. When he approached his usual spot he found a familiar person already there.
“Hello, Dean.” The older boy was leaning up against a tree trunk with his straw hat sitting over the front of his face. He had his ankles crossed and his hands were resting in his lap. Had it been anyone else and Castiel would have assumed he had been asleep but Dean never fell asleep until Castiel himself had arrived. He reached his hand up to uncover his face and looked over at Castiel with a lazy smile on his face.
“Well hey there Castiel. I was beginning to think you were going to leave me here waiting.” Castiel simply kept walking towards the other boy when he said “You say that every time, Dean.” When they first began meeting here, both boys were worried they would be found by someone. The punishment for homosexuality was quartering and neither wished that on the other. It had been a few times since that first time but Dean still holds onto his suspicions that the looming threat will cause Castiel to change his mind.
Before Dean could get another word in, Castiel knelt down by his hips. Dean unhooked his ankles so the younger boy could slip between his legs. Though neither boy would be considered slight because of the constant working in the fields they managed to fit perfectly. With his back to Dean's chest, Castiel snaked his arms back to grab onto the older boy's wrists. He brought them around him and twined his fingers with Dean's, his arms resting on top of his- lover? friend? Castiel was not sure what exactly they were to each other, but what he did know was that this was the best feeling in the world. Nothing made him feel more secure than falling asleep surrounded by this beautiful man, holding onto his calloused hands.