Going Live- A Destiel Fanfic

It Is Time

|Still Pride| A/N: This will be a longer chapter ;) you're welcome...

Due to my low muscle mass, Dean takes the small child from my arms and pulls him close to his chest. It isn't very surprising that children enjoy him a lot more than they do me. He grew up taking care of his brother while I was the one getting taken care of by my brothers, and what's not to like about Dean?

"Hey, little guy we're gonna take you to your parents. It won't be long," Dean whispers into the boy's ear as he nestles innocently into the crook of Dean's neck. We still have yet to find out the identity of the child, but we've neared the office to the convention center and I'm not ready to give him up yet. He's grown on me.

In hopes that I didn't lose Dean in the crowd, I latch my hands into his and hold on for dear life. Despite how I've been trying to act, I'm still absolutely terrified that someone might find us out because of me not playing my part. I just don't understand how Dean can be so casual and relaxed about this whole thing. It's like he doesn't even have to pretend him to love me, he just does whatever it takes.

From behind, I can see the boy peeking at me from over Dean's shoulder with wide eyes. It's almost unsettling how much he reminds me of my younger self. When I would spend the night in Gabe's room when it would storm, I'd wake up the next morning curled against him. He never really cared much, but my last girlfriend was never much of a touchy-feely person so thunder was always terrible for me. I'm just glad that it hasn't hardcore stormed since I moved it. I don't know what I'd do if it did.

 He occasionally looks back to make sure I'm still close behind even though my hand is still encased in his. I'm so focused on following his feet so I don't even notice when we make to the "lost kid return". 

Standing impatiently at the door is two female-presenting human beings. I don't want to make assumptions, especially in a place where anyone can be anything. When they see us with who I assume is their son, they get an instant look of relief. I take a second to look them over as they rush towards Dean and I.

The one in the lead is tall and lanky as though she was stretched out in a taffy puller. I would estimate around 5'9. Her long face is framed by shoulder-length blonde hair that rests in ringlets. Stormy gray eyes of worry and fear are framed by mascara and eyeliner that's sharper than my IQ. She's not unattractive and to a gay, that means good looking. 

Trailing behind her is a shorter and has a little extra weight, but she's still what I would consider pretty with dyed black hair and a stud piercing on the left side of her nose. Bright red lipstick coats her mouth and matches her knee-length cami-dress. Her calf hosts a tattoo of a rose with a ribbon around the stem. I make out the words to be the name Graice. 

"I assume this is your son?" Dean asks motioning to the now sleeping boy clinging tightly to his tee-shirt. The taller lady, who I assume to be Graice, is the one to answer.

"I'm so sorry! We turned around to look for my wife's purse and he must've seen the car on your float and followed," she explains hurriedly as though she doesn't need to breath. 

"It's not your fault, dear. I was supposed to watch him."

Dean's hand leaves mine to wake the boy and set him down. I notice how much he doesn't look like either of the women, but I decide it's best not to say anything. Turns out it was the right choice. On the strap of the dark-haired lady's purse is a pin I recognize as the asexual flag and realize he was probably adopted. That doesn't make him any less loved.

"It was really no problem. He was adorable," I suddenly speak out, not realizing that the boy was staring up at me again until he tugs at my shirt. His piercing blue eyes stare up into my own like deep pools of ocean water. Bending down to meet the small child, I realize how small he actually is. He's only a little taller than my knees.