Chapter Text
“So it went well yeah?” Sam asks, voice guilty in Dean’s ear, “I really am sorry I couldn’t be there, man.”
Dean smiles despite himself as he switches the phone to speaker and starts to pull on his shoes.
“Yeah I know you are, Sammy,” he sighs, “At least you called to find out how it went. More than Cas has managed.”
Dean ties his shoes a little tighter than he intended, an ugly twist of hurt making his chest ache. Sam sighs sympathetically and Dean presses the phone back to his ear, coat held closely around himself.
“Dean, London’s a long way away, you know,” Sam says softly and Dean tries really hard to let the words comfort him.
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you know he’s probably more upset about missing it than you are.”
Dean sighs again as he makes his way to the stage door, “Yeah. And I know he can’t just skip out on work every time I start a new show, I just… a little bit of me thought he’d still show up, you know?”
Sam sighs, “I know you did. And you know that’s not really fair on him.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Dean grumbles, “He could have at least called.”
Sam laughs under his breath and, weirdly, it makes Dean feel a little better, “Dean, you’ve been together over two years and this is the first opening night he’s missed. It’s the middle of the day in Chicago. You know he’ll call you later, quit being such a whiny bitch.”
Dean huffs indignantly, “You’re a… whiny bitch,” he says, and hangs up before Sam can call him out on it.
Dean pauses before opening the door. He knows Sam’s right, of course, it really isn’t fair of him to be mad at Cas for not being here. He’ll be here in a few weeks when the university holidays hit and he’s already apologised so much for having to miss this that Dean knows he’d be here if he could.
Still, and he knows that Sam would call him a total sap if knew this, a little bit of him thought today would be special. It was exactly five years ago today that Cas left that first note and they haven’t talked about it, but Dean had kind of hoped Cas would remember.
Dean shoves his phone into the pocket of his coat and flips up the collar. London may be pretty, but it really is cold as fuck.
When he opens the door there are only a handful of people waiting for him, he hasn’t quite got the reputation over here that he does back in the States, so it takes only a few minutes to sign tickets and smile politely at the compliments.
As the last person hurries away, eager to get out of the cold, Dean’s stopped in his attempt to make a quick getaway by a large hand on his shoulder.
“Dean Winchester?” The doorman asks, apparently completely oblivious to the icy temperatures.
“Uh, yeah?” Dean answers, confused frown on his face.
“Someone left this for you,” the man says, pressing a slip of paper into Dean’s hand, “Said it was really important.”
He winks and Dean feels the beginnings of warmth trickling back into his body before he even reads it. He nods his head in thanks and only makes it about 10 paces before he’s leaning against a wall and unfolding the slip of paper with hands suddenly immune to the cold.
He reads it seven times and half way through the eighth, throws his head back against the wall with a grin and runs a shaking hand over his face. His heart is dancing a bourree in his chest and it takes him a moment to remember how to send signals to the rest of his body, but when he does he pushes himself up off the wall so suddenly he almost topples over.
He puts the note carefully in his pocket, pulls up Google Maps on his phone, and runs.
*
Dean,
It’s five years to the day since I first saw you, and still you manage to completely captivate me with every step. I have no doubt London will be as in love with you as I am in no time. I’m so proud of you, Dean, and if you’d like to know how much, meet me across the river, underneath the London Eye. You should be able to find me, I’ll be the one in the ‘ugly ass trenchcoat’, down on one knee.
Cas