Pretty Boy // Destiel

18. What Are We?

I may take a break from writing and updating this story. No real reason, just feel people are losing interest, especially since I update so often.

1/13/18: I definitely won't be updating or writing as much for sure, I just went through a lot and I'm not doing very well.
Also, it was brought to my attention that there was a glitch where my updates said this chapter was up, but you guys couldn't see it. Hopefully it's fixed.

Anyway, Enjoy this chapter.

Castiel.

"This day has been so wonderful." I say softly and grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl between us.

"Yes it has." Dean murmurs into my ear while tightening his arm around my shoulders.

I smile softly and look at him. "Thank you for bringing me to your favorite place. Could we go there again soon?"

He nods and smiles gently.

Something seems... different. Dean's been soft and quiet and gentle pretty much all day and it's worrying me a little.

"Hey... Are you okay?" I whisper.

He closes his eyes and nods, resting his forehead on my shoulder.

It's quiet for a minute before he whispers.

"I've just been... thinking of how wonderful you are. And beautiful and amazing. And that I don't deserve you because of how not-good I am. There's so much better out there for you, so much more hot and deserving of an angel like you."

My eyes widen in shock, I couldn't believe what he was saying to me. "Dean... that's not true. Not at all. What would make you say such a thing?"

"I've just been thinking, you know? I should have been the last person you thought of when you wanted to date someone. Especially because of how much of a dick I've been to you in the past few years."

I look at his face, sad and soft.

"No, Dean. Don't you dare say that." I move the popcorn bowl and he lifts his head. I move and sit down on his lap, knees straddling his waist. "When I was really little and you were just figuring out how I was different, how I liked to wear dresses and skirts, and how I told you I liked boys? I told you that because I liked you. Little seven year old me knew I liked you. And for that to stick around for so long is just crazy because I knew that one day I might possibly get the little boy of my dreams. And I knew that you picking on me wasn't because of what you thought. Because so long ago you cheered me on. You made me feel so much more comfortable with how I displayed myself to everyone else. You supported me. And I knew that if I held on to that small little crush, that idea that you would like me back, it would come true. And it has." I put my hand on his cheek and he leans in to it, letting me brush my thumb across his cheek.

He wraps his arms around my waist and really looks at me.

"I'm so lucky to have a boy like you." He smiles gently.

"I'm lucky to have you, too." I smile before kissing him, long and soft. "Better?" I ask.

"Better." He says, smiling more confidently now.