Moving On (Destiel)

58: the key point in a ghost is that you don't hear it coming

Dean came back the next day. Hearing from the nurses that Becky had gone out to get something to eat from the nearest bakery was only lifting his mood slightly, cause now he had no excuse not to talk to Cas about... well, everything. Otherwise he could've procrastinated, prepare it for the next day, only to delay it again, and again and again... to have a reason to come back.

Now, this would be his last visit.

Cas was asleep when he entered the room. Unlike what he accused Cas of whenever he did that to him, Dean didn't feel like a creep when he watched Cas like that. Not did it feel intriguing – intimidate, yes, but he wasn't actually invalidating Cas' personal space... they were really close and God knows the times they've slept in a bed together. They used to, until two nights ago, for months.

It could have been five minutes, or ten, an hour, or none. But eventually, Dean would see the white paper on the white note peeking out of Cas' breast pocket. Someone had changed his clothes, of course, all dirty up and partly torn, and whichever items had had with him – a ring he for some reason never took off – lay on the table next to the bed. But that small, folded paper... was it Cas's belonging or did it have something to do with the nurses documenting something? Then it wouldn't be in Cas' night gown's breast pocket though, would it?

It surely was nothing.

And yet...

Dean found himself reaching out, just to look, he told himself, just to look, but Cas flung his eyes open in that very moment and Dean drew his hand back as if slapped.

"Hello, Dean," Cas rasped.

"Hey, Cas," Dean answered shyly, sheepishly. He hid his hand under his right leg. It chronically burned. Just like his cheeks burned. But as always with Cas, he couldn't tell whether it was from his sheer presence or because of the way Cas looked at him.

'Cause after everything, that hasn't changed. It made Dean sad. Everything in his life always turned sad, didn't it? That's why you didn't try to find love, and if you do, you should reject it. It's temporary. And soon it will replace joy with such a groundbreaking sorrow that you'll choke on it. The same applied to general relationships. You should never bind yourself too much onto people.

Or at least Dean shouldn't. Somehow, they seemed to end up in a hospital every time.

"How are you, Dean?"

"How am-", Dean laughed. Only Cas. "You're laying in a hospital, all beat-up and shit, and still you ask me how I am? I can't believe we're doing this right now."

That elicited a small smile from Cas, but he was still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, I don't know, Cas. Life's shit right now, it always is, but right now it's worse, and you... you're... and your mother... she's... no offense, but dude, I don't think I'll get along with her."

"She can be difficult at times," Cas suggested diplomatically.

"That's certainly one of the harmless ways to phrase it, but yeah. That. Luckily I won't have to test that."

Cas squinted and tilted his head, and he just looked so goddamn cute, Dean wanted to punch a fist and scream at the sky that he didn't want to do this. "What do you mean by that?"

That caused Dean to laugh bitterly. If only had he known that what he was about to do wouldn't help Cas, but break his heart. 

"I won't be around to face off with her, is what I mean. Looks like there's a good thing to it, after all."