The Flock (SPN / destiel)

your heartbeat with mine: part 2

They parked near the boat ramp and hiked to a shady spot along the riverfront. Dean spread out the towels on the sandy bank and Castiel took out the food.

There wasn't anything special about the preparation—it was bread that had been on sale and off-brand peanut butter—but it tasted better outdoors. He ate two sandwiches, chewing slowly as he took in the rush of moving water, the light afternoon breeze. Dean ate three and failed at pretending not to sneak glances at Castiel's phone.

"He'll write back," Castiel said.

"Course he'll write back. You want a beer?"

Castiel shook his head. Dean opened another and shut his eyes. Castiel smiled at the sight of him with his head tilted back, neck exposed—he loved every inch of Dean's body. He corralled their trash in the box and settled against Dean's shoulder.

They were quiet for a while, just listening to the river. A dog barked twice in the distance and people jogged past on the trail behind them, but the spot they'd chosen was secluded. Castiel put a hand under Dean's t-shirt and caressed his stomach.

"Are you trying to get me worked up?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

Dean leaned his head against Castiel's hair and chuckled. Castiel slid his hand further up Dean's chest and positioned it over his heart. He breathed easier when he felt it beating. He couldn't restore life anymore, but he could share one.

"Can you believe we're doing this?" Dean asked, quiet but happy. He slung an arm around Castiel's back and tugged him closer. "Figured I'd be dead by now."

"Technically, you have been."

"You're a dick," Dean muttered through a laugh.

***

Castiel took a nap with his head pillowed on Dean's stomach and Dean's hand nested in his hair. He sniffed awake and stretched into a generous yawn, then opened his eyes. Dean had his phone out and was frowning.

"Just call him," Castiel said. He sat up and shielded his eyes from the dappled sunlight through the trees.

"He didn't pick up."

"So call him again."

"I did. It went straight to voicemail. And he hasn't replied to my texts or email."

Dean wet his lips and didn't look Castiel in the eye. Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the trail that led back to the parking lot. Their house was locked, the air shut off, and the little food they had in the refrigerator would keep until Monday.

"It's almost two-thirty," Castiel said. "If we leave now, we'll be at the bunker by dinner."

"I'm not driving across the state because Sam's too damned lazy to plug in his phone."

"I'll drive," Castiel sighed. "You were drinking."

"I had one beer."

"You had two beers here and one at the house."

"Whatever," Dean muttered but slapped the keys into Castiel's palm.