The Countdown
Don’t let the first line confuse you; this story is completely Destiel ;)
Ten hours. Ten hours until he married Crowley.
Castiel glanced down at the engagement ring on his hand, smiling softly. He knew that he was up way too early; he should try to go back to sleep so he could rest up for the big day ahead. All of the wedding magazines said to get as much rest as possible. But he found he couldn’t. He was too excited, and it’s not like he could just shut it off.
Plopping down onto the bed, his eyes studied his spackled ceiling. It was the same ceiling he’d been staring at since he was a young kid merely speculating about this distant moment. So much had changed since those juvenile speculations. He was older now, wiser. He knew that the man who’d starred in those early visions was just a fantasy. Here and now, in reality, he knew that, that…that man would never be the man Cas would say “I do” to. That man was just a fantasy, and Cas was here in reality.
Nine hours. Nine hours until he married Crowley.
Dean stared down at the phone in his hand, willing for the courage to rise. He needed to tell Cas. He needed to tell him now, before it was too late. He couldn’t leave it unsaid, not any longer. He’d been running for long enough. It was time to stop running and stand.
Eight hours. Eight hours until he married Crowley.
Naomi gazed lovingly at the scrapbook opened across her lap, her fingers brushing reverently over the glossy photo of the young boy with dark hair hugging the young boy with the green eyes and the smudged face. Naomi had watched them both grow up, the neighbor kids, always in and out of each other’s lives. At one time both Naomi and Mary had thought . . . but that didn’t matter anymore. Things had turned out so differently than they’d ever planned.
The young, dark haired boy would marry in eight hours, someone who was not in any of these childhood photos with him. But that was okay. Naomi already had a new scrapbook prepared for the photos that would come, photos of anniversaries and children and pets and vacations. Photos of a different life would fill the new scrapbook. Naomi felt a wisp of sadness, a tiny little pang at the thought that the new scrapbook wouldn’t have any pictures of the boy with the smudged face.
Seven hours. Seven hours until he married Crowley.
Michael sat in the garage, shining the barrel on his shotgun. Not that he planned on using it. Just in case the groom decided to pull any hanky business, like running away. Michael had already seen his little guy cry enough in his lifetime. Today’s tears, if there were any, would be tears of happiness, and nothing else.
Six hours. Six hours until he married Crowley.
Anna tried wrapping the long strand around the barrel of the curling iron again, cursing her lackluster hair’s inability to hold a curl. She’d be the best looking maid-of-honor this city had ever seen, even if it killed her. It wasn’t so much the fact that she was maid-of-honor; she’d been maid-of-honor before, and it hadn’t mattered quite so much. But they’d already been warned by the mayor’s staff that the newspapers would be out in full force for the ceremony, capturing the exact moment when the city’s most beloved mayor took his new groom. With an exasperated huff, Anna released the non-curl and started again.
Five hours. Five hours until he married Crowley.
Dean couldn’t wait any longer. He had to tell Cas. He had to tell him now. He pressed Send.
Four hours. Four hours until he married Crowley.
And Cas was seriously sneaking out for coffee with Dean now? Sam sighed and shook his head as he set down his phone. It was almost indecent, the bond between those two. Sam understood that they were childhood best friends; he had grown up with both Castiel and Dean, he’d been there for all the good times and the bad between them. But Sam wouldn’t run out mere hours before his wedding for a coffee date with anyone, much less the childhood best friend he’d been in love with once upon a time.
Three hours. Three hours until he married Crowley
Cas stared down into his tepid coffee, his entire body numb. The sunlight shining through the window reflected off the tear streaks that flowed down his cheeks. His lower lip quivered as he attempted to pull his breathing back under control. He couldn’t look at the other person at the table yet. He was still too shocked. There’d been a time once when he wanted this. He’d wanted it more than anything. But now . . . Now?
Two hours. Two hours until he married Crowley.
Naomi called up the stairs again, her brow furrowing. Where was that boy?
One hour. One hour until he married Crowley.
Crowley checked his bowtie again, then his cufflinks, then his hair. He fiddled nervously with the buttons of his shirt, studying his reflection in the mirror. The love story of the century; that’s what the papers were calling it. He still wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t even sure about . . . The knock on the door was unexpected. The note was even more unexpected.
At two o’clock, Castiel was supposed to marry Crowley.
It was supposed to be an event worthy of the love story of the century.
Instead, Castiel Winchester was boarding the plane with his new husband; it was the beginning of their love story of a lifetime.
Dean wasn’t running anymore; Cas wasn’t just dreaming anymore.
