Hey, how are you? From the prompt list: 75 or 83?
“I still have your jacket,” Dean says in a rush, immediately feeling like a fucking moron. It’s not the only thing he still has of Cas’s — on their sixth date, Cas brought him flowers, and no one has ever brought Dean flowers before, so he kept one even after it became brittle and delicate, and it’s still carefully tucked in a box in his closet. It’s not like he pulls it out to look at it, but he doesn’t forget it’s there, even though it’s been months since Cas left. Like it helps, Dean says, “I know it was your favorite.”
“I bought a new one,” Cas says, and for some reason that shatters Dean, it was so easy for Cas to drop him and now his favorite jacket, and Dean wonders if anything has ever meant something to Cas, or maybe everything is temporary, left to go brittle and eventually crumble into nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Cas says. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“Yes. I — wanted to apologize. I made a mistake when I left you.”
Dean snorts. “Nope, I promise you didn’t.”
“I didn’t give you an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I should have. You’re wonderful, Dean, and anyone would be lucky to have you. But I was — am — a bit broken. I would’ve broke you too.”
“It’s a little late for a speech,” Dean says, even though it’s not. If Cas asked, Dean would gladly crawl into his arms and never leave. Cas was the only thing that kept Dean from breaking, it’s impossible to imagine he would be the one to do it, at least until he did with a steady-voiced I don’t think we should see each other anymore.
“I was taking a lot of pills,” Cas says. “Maybe you didn’t know. I didn’t want you to. But I — I’m better. Still a mess, but better.”
Dean closes his eyes, rubs a shaking hand over his face. He suspected, but kept his mouth shut, because he didn’t want confirmation, because he didn’t want to think about Cas hurting, he only wanted to make Cas laugh. “I’m real glad to hear that.”
“I miss you,” Cas says, in a rush like Dean admitting he still has Cas’s jacket, like he thinks it’s a stupid thing to say. It probably is, considering, except something in Dean’s chest lights up. “I don’t care about the jacket, but I’d like — can I see you? Get some coffee?”
“Yeah,” Dean says. He briefly wonders if he’ll regret it, if Cas will just smash him into a thousand pieces, then realizes he probably can’t ever regret a moment spent with Cas.
