Pretty Boy // Destiel

Epilogue

Dean.

Butterflies erupted into my chest.

It had been two months shy of a year since I had seen Castiel last, when I had held him in my arms at the airport. Tears rolling down his cheeks as he asked for a kiss, another kiss, another, again and again until it was his final chance to get on. Calls and FaceTime had been as often as possible, limited to once on the weekend (or every two) or so. Mail was almost twice a week.

The decline in the amount of calls had been the result of how much work they were putting on Castiel. He had all sorts of projects due every couple of days and I could tell it was getting hard on him. It didn't help that business at Bobby's shop started getting crazy busy, and I was in the process of becoming manager. And when Bobby was ready to be done, the owner.

I didn't mind that. I was proud of him for working so hard, but I missed seeing his face. I missed holding him in my arms and kissing and hugging him.

Some nights I'd wake up in the middle of the night, craving his body pressed against mine.

Calls, when we would get to, consisted of talking about our week, how we missed each other... and God, don't even get me started on when he would call saying he needed me.

Lace peeking out from under one of my shirts he took, hands trailing down his body and-

I shook my head.

Then my mind trailed to the mail we would send back and forth. Sometimes he would ask for things he left at home. It was almost awkward walking into his house without him there, Chuck greeting me and asking me the usual "how have you been" questions. Then I would make my way up the stairs to Castiel's room, following the instructions he gave me for whatever he needed. It almost became a regular thing, being greeted by Chuck, getting what Cas needed, sitting on his bed (which still smelled like him) and looking around the untouched room. It was so regular in fact, Chuck started sending me home with food every time I came. Sometimes Castiel would send me something he made. Small little sculptures or paintings. Those were displayed in my room. Other times they were just handwritten letters about how much he missed and loved me. Those would sometimes have polaroids, and Castiel being himself, all were collected and stored in a small box under my bed.

My mind wandered to those pictures. Actually, it wandered to him like that a lot. As much as I missed his gentleness, I also missed how intimate we were.

I shook my head again, my thoughts beginning to race.

This is not the time, not the place.

I grounded myself and looked around the busy airport.

I had told Cas that I would wait for him to be settled for the summer at home, and then he could spend time with me once he was ready. But he insisted that I wait for him at the airport with Chuck, which was a little awkward.

Chuck kept telling me how he couldn't wait to see his boy, how he was so excited to have him home for a while. I would agree every time he said it.

The last call we had, just three days before, Castiel was beyond excited to be home. He kept repeating how he couldn't wait to kiss my face, to hold my hand. I had to calm him down and remind him how I was very excited too, but that his dad got the first hug.

He pouted at that, and after persuading finally agreed.

My leg anxiously bounced and every couple seconds I kept checking my watch.

5:30 PM.

Just 45 more minutes until he would be here. I wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but as we hadn't seen each other in almost a year I was really nervous.