I’M NOT CRYING, I JUST HAVE LOTS OF DEAD CHARACTERS IN MY EYE
Having sex in elevators is wrong on so many levels.
Dean was laying on his bed, his body sinking into the memory foam mattress, his hands behind his head. There was a tight ache in his chest, and he closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. He shouldn’t feel this way. He was at the bunker with Sam. Everything was fine.
Except for the war in Heaven. At that, a pang of…something shot through Dean. Loss? Sadness? Regret? Loneliness?
War was waging in Heaven. Angels were fighting angels. Everything was in disarray. It shouldn’t be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Cas had killed so many of his brothers and sisters. There just wasn’t anything else he could do.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to just go down to Earth and seek out Dean. He couldn’t place his finger on why. He just needed to get out of Heaven. He needed to be with the one man who had been steadily with him for five years now.
Dean hadn’t seen Cas in two weeks. He wasn’t keeping track of the days or anything, he was just…okay, maybe he was keeping track. He sighed as he crossed another day off the calendar, his heart aching with the thought that he may never see Cas again.
Dean pushed that from his mind as he sat down at the desk in his room. He kept one of the old typewriters in there. He’d been meaning to start writing on it, he just didn’t know where to start. Or maybe he did. The keys clicked loudly as Dean typed, his brows furrowed in concentration.
“Dean! Dinner!” Sam’s voice stirred Dean from his thoughts and he looked down at the page.
Missin’ Cas :(
Cas had been away from Dean for five weeks now. The war was still going on and Cas could barely keep up anymore. He wanted this to end. He wanted to restore the peace that used to reign Heaven.
He wanted this to be over so that he could go home to Dean.
It was week six and Dean now had an entire stack of papers that were devoted to Cas. There were descriptions of his appearance, what Dean missed about him, what Dean had to show him when he came back, things Dean had to ask him.
He was in love. There was no denying it. He’d begun to finish off each paper with “I love you, Cas,” the ink making the letters crisp and clear.
Cas hadn’t been so sure of anything in his life. He was in love with Dean. He supposed he’d always known it but he’d never admitted it to himself or to Dean.
There wasn’t any way around it. Cas needed this war to end. He needed to get back to Dean. He needed to say it.
“Cas, man, I know you’re up there fighting and stuff but…” Dean trailed off, taking in a deep breath. He was kneeling at the side of his bed, his hands clasped together. “You need to get back here. It’s been two months. I can’t live without you anymore, Cas. I need you. I lo—”
There was a fluttering of wings and Dean stood, spinning around. There Cas was, trenchcoat and all, hair mussed and eyes wide and as blue as ever.
The two names were whispered, barely audible in the silent room. Each man took two calculated steps forward and then they were kissing, lips, teeth, and tongues clashing in a fight for dominance.
When Dean pulled away to take in a gulp of air, he rested his forehead against Cas’. “You came back,” he whispered, completely breathless. His hands were tangled in Cas’ dark hair and Cas’ arms were around his waist, holding them together.
“I will always come back to you, Dean.” Cas’ voice was low, his words a gruff promise as he leaned forward, kissing Dean much more softly this time. “And Dean?” Green eyes met blue. “I love you, too.”