The Devil Made Me Do It
Supernatural has ruined my life, My OTP is destiel and I
occasionally write fanfic
occasionally write fanfic
((This originally wasn’t going to be posted but my friend convinced me to so there’s that)) ((i hope ur happy, Cal))
Ship: Destiel
Type: fluff
Word count: 257 ((Shh, it’s short but cute like me))
((Another authors note: I literally haven’t written in months so it’s probably not as good as it could be but im kinda proud of this one k bye))
About 30 minutes into leaning back on his lawn chair and looking out across the water, Dean starts texting Cas all kinds of pics from his day at the lake with Sam. Goofy pics of him chillin’ in his shades to contemplative shots of the lake as he remembers standing next to one with Cas once, in a dream, lifetimes ago, he snaps pretty indiscriminately until Cas finally texts him back.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying you’re break.” Cas writes, which makes Dean chuckle, ‘cause with the deadpan punctuation it reads as super sarcastic.
“Aww, wishing you were here, Cas?” Dean texts back before he can stop himself. He tries desperately to ignore the voice inside his head that pleads, say yes, say yes, say yes.
It takes Dean five minutes of silent fretting after the phone has vibrated in his hand to check what Cas writes back. Taking a deep breath, Dean unlock his screen to read the words, “I often wish I’m with you when I’m not,” and almost drops his fucking phone.
You can’t just say things like that, Dean thinks frantically. Least of all over text, what the hell.
By now, Sam’s noticed Dean’s change from relaxed to completely wired. He glances at him with concern. “You okay, man?”
“I—” Dean remembers how to breathe again, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
He is so far from good.
After a gruelling 10 more minutes of internal debate, Dean finally settles on a short but sincere reply. He hopes Cas gets what he means by the two small words, and all the weight they carry: ”Yeah, same.”
Dean holds his breath until he feels his phone vibrate again, but when he reads Cas’ final reply, it releases all the tension from his body. He barks out a laugh. All his unread message inbox displays is a painfully earnest “:-)”.
He laughs because the idea of Cas using emoticons is amazing all on its own, but he also laughs to let his breath chase the soaring feeling in his chest, for he knows, deep down in his bones, that somewhere, in some state that’s too far away right now, Cas is really, truly smiling.