Hi! So with some friends we've been writing prompts together on our ships and it happens for me to be each time either SPN or One Piece so I thought I'll just post what I've done! So here it is, first prompt being a Destiel, corrected by my dear Beta Fafsernir! Hope you guys like it and leave a review to let me know your opinion! If you want to keep it a surprise, don't read the prompt which made me write this, all you have to know is that it is a modern!AU with our ship.
Inspired from the prompt: "We stayed up all night in bed texting each other and while i was confessing my feelings to you i passed out so all i left you with was "i kind of…" and thats it AU"
That's it, he'll ask him tonight
It'd now been weeks since they got used to texting each other in their beds before falling asleep. And to be honest, Castiel quite enjoyed the situation. For he had some insomnia, it was a good way to be busy for a while – sometimes more than half of the night.
On the other hand, he was also aware that Dean needed more sleep than him, which he could totally understand, and to see that his friend texted him that late – wasting his sleep – touched him. Dean was one of the best people he had ever met. Maybe the best, actually.
Certainly the best.
He'd thought about it for days, now. Days, and nights. He knew there was something – he felt something strange when Dean was around, and even when he wasn't, just the thought of him, a picture, or his name could make his body react in a strange way. He had finally figured out he might have... feelings – or whatever people called it – for him.
"So which one did you prefer?"
Here it was again. This smile. Again. Every single time the Winchester would send him a text, he'd have this genuine smile flourishing on his face, coming out of the blue. His friends and family would always laugh at him and could always tell it was Dean. At first, he didn't notice it himself, but now he could feel it slowly growing on his lips.
It was horrible.
That's why he thought about it a lot lately. That's why he thought that maybe he had to share it with the person responsible for it. After all, it was his fault. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't asked for any of this – the smile, the happiness of his presence and sadness of his absence, the pounding heart...
That was it. He would do it. He would ask him tonight.
"I don't know, the characters all played very well. What about you, Dean?"
He was lying on the couch, yawning. He glanced at the clock: 3am. That late, already? Earlier, in the day, they had both hanged out to see a movie – a Western, as it appeared that Dean was very fond of the genre.
He closed his eyes, remembering the scenes of battles, the gunshots, the settlers, the gunslinger, the landscapes, the soundtracks...
"The protagonist, of course." Dean replied. "He rocked, for sure. Was fun to watch it with you, Cas, should hang out more often; I have much to show you!"
"Yes Dean."
He couldn't say he was a pro in communication. The truth was, he never knew how to behave with anyone. He was at ease with Dean but still, it was hard.
"Did you like it?"
"Well, I do like you," he whispered to himself.
"A lot" he answered, instead.
"Good. I wouldn't like to make you do things you don't want to do."
"Don't worry Dean, it's fine, I enjoyed– " he stopped a second, attacked by a sudden weariness and finished it "– discovering what you like so much."
"Awesome, Cas. I have to admit I had a great time."
"Me too, Dean."
He sent this text, and then took a deep breathe, trying to chase away his tiredness and slowly started to type what he'd been waiting to confess, at last.
"Dean, I need to tell you, I kind of"
"Dean, I need to tell you, I kind of"
And that was it.
Dean was smiling with a very very stupid smile on his face until he got this text. Cas' last text. What was this sentence? Nonsense. He had stopped typing in the middle of his sentence! And it had been... half an hour, and Dean was still waiting for him to add something more to this message.
He sent him several texts to tell him there must have been something wrong, and that he didn't understand what he wrote, but Cas never replied.
'Dean, I need to tell you' felt like something important, didn't it? What the fuck was this hiatus? Cas never wrote messages like this, unless it was important.
He had wanted to sleep, and had been on the edge of telling Cas he was going to bed but then the text... Oh fuck, really? What did he want to say? Was he in trouble? Did he want to confess something? Maybe he had lied about being fine – that wouldn't be the first time, he also did that some times.
But it was Cas. When Cas was serious, it meant that... well, that it was serious.
And this was a torture. The more he thought about it, the less he could sleep.
Well, he didn't care: the next day, he would have his answer, whatever it was. Castiel wouldn't escape him. Winchester's word.
