In The Eyes of The Confessor | A Destiel Fanfiction | Supernatural

Chapter 9

Dean and Cas stayed there for long enough that Dean started to drift off a little himself. He felt someone place something warm like a blanket over them, but he didn't open his eyes to see who it was. He didn't feel cold anymore; sat there with Cas, he felt like there was a furnace under the blanket. He wasn't sure how long it'd been, but eventually he felt Cas awaken next to him. Dean was too tired to move at all, so he just stayed slumped there, eyes clamped shut, his head resting against the back of the sofa. He could feel Cas looking at him, and he heard him take a deep breath before he spoke, his voice sounding a lot more normal now after getting some sleep.

"I missed you." He whispered, and Dean fought the urge to open his eyes. Maybe Cas thought he was asleep, which was the only reason he was saying these things. Dean worried that if he opened his eyes now, Cas would never say what was on his mind. And so his eyes stayed shut, and he tried with all his might to keep his breathing at a steady pace. "After what happened... at your party.... And when we stopped speaking.... I thought..." Cas took another breath, and a few moments passed. Dean thought he might stop, but he took another sharp intake of breath and carried on. "I thought I'd never see you again. And I thought that I... that I'd never be able to tell you how much you mean to me." Cas shifted on the sofa a little. Maybe he felt uncomfortable, or regretted what he'd just said. Either way, Cas sighed and cleared his throat. "Not that I'd ever expect you to feel the same way towards me... especially with the amount of arguing we've been doing since seeing each other again." He sounded so sad, so tired. He sounded ready to give up, and that's what made Dean open his eyes. He turned his head to the side slowly and met eyes with Cas, who didn't seem surprised at all that he wasn't actually asleep. They looked at each other in silence, Dean scanning Cas' face, trying to read his emotions.

The fireplace in the centre of the room cast a warm glow to Cas' face, and it reminded Dean of a memory made years ago.

The flames of their scruffy hand-made fire seem to shimmer slightly in the cool evening breeze. The sun was starting to set, plunging the day into night. Stars started to peek out from behind the clouds that hung heavily in the sky. They sat beside the lakeside of the same lake that Dean had taught Cas how to swim in.

Cas's face looked defined in the orange glow from the fire. He was carving at a piece of driftwood, his strong hands working the knife with such accuracy and precision that Dean was mesmerised as he watched. The crackling of the fire combined with the gentle movements from Cas' hands was soothing to him. He leant back on his elbows, taking in the way Cas sat, hunched over slightly, his legs crossed underneath him.

He looks pretty.

The thought gently slipped itself into Dean's mind, and at first, he was confused about how he could feel that way towards Cas. But then a strange sense of calm washed over him, and he felt okay. It felt good to think that way about Cas. It felt... right.

"It's so strange how you were teaching me how to swim in this exact lake 3 years ago. It feels longer than that." Cas says now, and Dean woke up from his relaxed state to pay attention.

"Yeah, it does." He replied, his voice low and relaxed. Cas' gaze flickered up to meet Dean's and he smiled. That warm, bright, happy smile. A flutter of feelings blossomed in Dean's chest and he found himself smiling back at Cas.

He didn't know how long they were sitting there, warming themselves with that fire, but it was glorious. Soon enough, a conversation grew between them. They started talking about the future and what they wished for. Cas said he hoped he would be living a comfortable life, working a job he adored and living in a house that was humble. Dean explained that he still wasn't sure what he wanted for his future, but one thing he hoped for was to still have the ability to visit the resort every year with everyone. That was the only thing that he wished for. That was the only thing that mattered to him.