Collection Of Destiel II

Photograph

"Let me take you home." The man's voice kept pestering, like a nat that hovered close enough to bother but not close enough to swat. "I can take good care of you."

Dean kept his head shaking, feeling the effect of a couple beers over his limit but still not feeling desperate enough to quench his loneliness with this creep. After what felt like an eternity, the man was suddenly gone. All that was left for Dean in this rundown bar was the bill. Reaching into his back pocket he pulled for his wallet and let it fall heaving on the countertop.

Maybe he shouldn't have ordered the last two whiskeys, his rent was due next week and he was living paycheck to paycheck as it is. But tonight was an anniversary that he couldn't be sober for. With a heaving sigh he flipped open his wallet only to be greeted by a photograph of two smiling faces.

He didn't recognize the smile he used to wear when this picture was taken. It was as if all of the happiness in the world was in his smile, as if his eyes couldn't see into a future of heartbreak and despair, as if he never for a moment considered he would lose the man smiling next to him.

The other smiling face haunted him too many times for him to count. The image ingrained into his eyelids until sleep was a nightmare itself. Those blue eyes, dazzling from the sunshine, seemed to be the only thing in this world Dean missed until he lost his breath.

It was hard to tear his eyes away from the photograph but he managed. Without a word he slapped some bills down and stood on wobbly legs. The dizziness didn't bother him as much as the tears prickling at his eyes.

Four years ago was his wedding day.

The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered he called a cab, he remembered walking in a front door he hadn't seen for months, and the last thing he remembered was the smell of the detergent that his husband used to buy.

THE NEXT MORNING

"Dean?"

"Five more minutes, Cas, my head hurts like a motherfucker." Dean pressed his drool laced words into the pillow and groaned at the sunlight that was starting to burn at his eyelids. "Shut the curtains, sweetheart."

"Dean." This time Cas sounded pissed off.

And everything came crashing down. Dean's heart plummeted so fast he choked on the lack of breath coming into his lungs. His head shot up and his eyes widened as he realized he was staring at his ex-husband. He was in his old home, the one Cas got in the divorce, with his shoes on in the bed they used to make love in.

"Holy fucking shit." Dean scrambled out of the bed, twisting himself in the sheets causing him to flop onto the floor. He didn't have the strength to get back up so he cowered behind the bed and prayed he was still dreaming. In that moment he decided to give up alcohol all together.

"Imagine my surprise, Dean, " the venom in Cas' voice made Dean cringe, "when I woke up this morning with someone's arms around me. And then, to make matters worse, I jump out and turn to find that it's you passed out in my bed. Reeking of alcohol. Do you care to explain or should I call the police?"

"Goddammit, Cas." Dean clenched his fist and summoned all his courage to finally stand and face the one person he never thought he would see again, except in the photograph still burning a hole in his back pocket. "I got way too drunk last night. You know what yesterday was. Pardon me for wanting to forget what it was. So I drank. And I must've accidently told the cab this address by mistake. Why the hell do you still keep the spare key under the doormat?"

Castiel's blue eyes burned almost red with rage. "It doesn't fucking matter where I keep the spare key, Dean Winchester!"

Flinching back a little, Dean took a deep breath and tried to plead to the other man with soft eyes. "I'm sorry, Cas, you know I wouldn't have done this on purpose, right?"

Some of the anger seemed to dissipate but Cas was still standing there in his pajamas with a rigid stance. His eyes dropped to the floor, causing his bedhead to ruffle just the slightest. "Get out."

Dean nodded more to himself since the other man wasn't looking at him. He started cautiously toward the bedroom door before something caught his eye. His boots grounded him to the floor as his eyes fell on a simply flannel laying on top of Cas' nightstand. He had spent weeks after they separating looking for that, it was his favorite.

"You wanna know something?" Dean's eyes never left his old shirt as tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. "That day, when you tossed everything I owned onto our front lawn and cursed me in every swear you could think of, I remember thinking that you made the best decision of your life. I remember the feeling when I knew that the best thing I could ever do for you was walk out of your life. Even though I never cheated, even though I never slept with that receptionist, I was still poison. So I left. I didn't argue anymore with you.

"I remember picking up all my things and searching for that flannel. It was your gift to me on my birthday as a joke because you always said I had too many of those things. I wore it so much I wore holes in the cuffs. I thought you threw it out." Dean didn't wait for Cas' response as he let that last statement hang in the air.

Stepping down the stairs of his old porch, Dean wiped at his eyes and willed himself to keep walking, walk anywhere as long as he could flee from this sinking feeling still pulling at his heart.

A COUPLE DAYS, MAYBE A WEEK LATER

Dean got off work with an easy smile. It had been an easy day, the garage wasn't busy and he had a few of his favorite customers come in to say hi. Usually Wednesdays weren't that exciting but Dean was simply happy to have a less cruddy day than the one before. On his way to the Impala he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and thumbed open the screen. There was one voicemail, probably from Sam or Charlie, which he quickly opened.

Pressing his phone to his ear he managed to open the driver's side door and slip into his seat. The second he closed the door he heard a deep breath, one that he recognized immediately, causing him to freeze with widening eyes.

"Hello, Dean. I am calling to inform you that... that-um-that I miss you." There was a pause and shuffling which only made Dean cling to his phone as if willing Cas' voice to come back. "I can't lie and say that that morning I woke up in your arms wasn't the best morning I had since we parted. In the morning haze I almost forgot that I was supposed to loathe you. I've spent so long creating you as this monster in my head who cheated and destroyed our life that I guess... I guess I didn't think of the possibility that you hadn't done it. I'm sorry that I didn't give you the chance to correct me.

"Things had gotten so out of control, Dean. She called our home-and-and maybe I had been too paranoid.... Well, not 'maybe', I had been. I thought that you were bored of me. Excuses aside, I want you to know that I miss you. And I know that I am stepping out on a limb here, since I broke us, but I will be having dinner at the resturaunt where we had our first date. I will be alone. I will be there tomorrow at seven o'clock. I have the reservation under two. If you don't show I understand. But I would like to see you and talk out everything because I c-can't go on without having you in my life, Dean. It's not fair to either of us and I will take full blame.

"I hope to see you there." The line went dead.

Dean sat there as this minutes ticked by with the phone still pressed to his ear. The silent tears falling onto his lap tickled his dimples but he couldn't move to wipe them away. A small smile curled at the edges of his lips before he lowered his phone and drove himself home.

MAYBE A YEAR LATER, EIGHTEEN MONTHS TOPS

"I'm going to have to buy you a new one." Cas mumbled as he rolled his eyes and picked at the sleeves of Dean's favorite flannel.

Dean didn't take his eyes off of the flickering shadows cast across his husband's face from the lamp on the nightstand. "I'd like that, sweetheart."