Dean didn't text Castiel the first night he was gone. Nor did he the second, though he was sorely tempted. On the third night, Dean's resolve to leave the boy alone broke, and he texted him.

8:12 'Hey. How are you?' Castiel never answered, and Dean slept badly that night, bad dreams running through him mind. The next night, Dean tried again.

9:37 'Hey.' Again, there was no response from the author, and Dean's dreams grew worse. The next day was Dean's first day at work. Carla trained him in taking orders and busing tables. That night, he told Cas all about his day in a stunning 12 page text. Cas answered several hours later.

11:21 'Cool.' It hurt, Dean admitted to himself. But it was contact, and there was no way he'd just let it slip by.

11:22 'How about you?' Dean gave up waiting for a response and went to bed. The next morning, Dean's phone blinked with a message that had come while he was asleep.

2:45 'Are you awake?'

10:34 'I'm so sorry, Cas, I was asleep, but I'm up now.'

12:09 'Castiel.'

For several weeks, Dean texted Castiel every day, either asking how he was, or telling about his own day at the diner. Every few days, Castiel would respond with a few generic words, and even though the messages were short, they gave Dean hope. Castiel was still answering. That was the important thing. Then, Dean's faith began to waver.

3:34 'Can I call you?' he sent the message daily for a week. the writer never answered. Finally, he got a single word response, early in the morning.

2:00 'Yes.' Despite that he had work early the next day, Dean called his friend immediately.

"Hello, Dean." Dean had practiced saying the other's full name, so he wouldn't mess up.

"Hey, Castiel. How are you?" There was a moment of silence on the other line.

"I am fine. Tell me about you day." Dean quickly launched into a description of his waking hours, detailing mishaps and jokes with Carla at the diner, and only vaguely mentioning how quiet the house was, how cold.

"I miss you, Castiel." There was a lengthy pause.

"Goodnight, Dean."

The next day, when Dean got home from his shift at the diner, there was music playing softly through the house.

"Castiel?" he called, looking through the house. "Are you here?" He entered the kitchen, and there sat the writer, sipping on a cup of coffee. He forced himself not to scoop the smaller boy into a crushing hug. "Hey, Castiel." he greeted instead. The author stood, leaving his coffee on the table.

"Cas." Dean furrowed his brow.

"But you said-" Dean was interrupted when Castiel-Cas- hurled himself into his arms.

"I know what I said, Dean Winchester. I know. But I don't want to be Castiel. I want to be Cas, your Cas, please let me be Cas." Dean wrapped his arms around the blue eyed boy.

"Of course, Cas."

"Again." The boy pleaded in a whisper. "I missed you."

"Oh, Cas." Dean pulled the other even closer. "I missed you too." Suddenly, Cas pulled back, and held Dean's face in both of his hands, deep blue eyes staring hard into Dean's.

"Do you love me?"

"God, yes, Cas, I do, so much," Cas interrupted.

"Do you love Eve?"

"No, never," The writer interrupted again.

"Did you ever tell her you loved her?" Dean froze. He could lie, he should lie-

"Yes." Cas nodded.

"I figured." He sighed and placed his forehead against Dean's.

"I love you." he murmured. Slowly, gently, he pressed his lips to Dean's. "I love you, and you are worth any amount of pain."

"Cas, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"Shh, it's okay. We'll get through it."

"I love you, Cas."

End