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Piers is in the kitchen, busying himself by preparing a snack. Really, he isn't hungry, but Max isn't here, Dudley hasn't returned from wherever the hell he disappeared to (if he's returning at all), and Dean… Piers doesn't even want to think about his boyfriend. Dean vanished after Dudley without a word of warning, and each day away from him breaks his heart a little more.
Piers doesn't know what happened to him. Was he abducted? Did something terrible happen, something his family is trying to cover up? Nothing makes sense, and Piers has driven himself damn near insane over the past several months.
He's just finished adding peanut butter to a plate of crackers when he hears the front door open. Frowning, he grips the butter knife like a weapon. "Max?" he calls, though he knows his cousin won't be home from his job at the bookstore until ten o'clock, five hours from now.
No answer. Piers wants to think he imagined it, but he knows what he heard. Abandoning his plate, he keeps a good grip on the knife and stalks out of the kitchen like a man on a mission.
Instead of finding an intruder, he finds Dean standing there, holding a bottle of wine and offering him a sheepish grin.
"That wasn't funny, Dean!" Piers snaps. "I could have murdered you!"
But even the words leave his mouth, his mind races, putting the pieces together. Dean is there. His boyfriend, who disappeared, without a trace, is in his living with that angelic face and perfect smile. Piers feels the anger drain from his body, relief flooding every inch of him. The butter knife falls from his hand.
"Sorry," Dean says with a laugh.
"Where the hell have you been?" Piers demands. "Do you know how long I've…? Dean… I…"
There are no words he can say to express the things he feels. Before he can help it, tears fall from his eyes, and he sniffles, swiping at them with his palm.
"Did you get lost?"
"No. I… Christ, Piers, I'm so sorry," Dean says with a heavy sigh.
It isn't an empty apology. Piers has apologized plenty of times without meaning a word of it, but Dean doesn't say the words like they're some forced courtesy, some pretty thing that's meant to make someone feel better.
Dean sets the bottle of wine on the nearby table and closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Piers. "I'll tell you everything. I promise."
Sometimes Piers wondered what it would be like to finally reunite with Dean. He'd imagined countless scenarios in his head. Would he welcome him with open arms? Would he fly into a rage because how dare Dean leave him? Never, at any point, did he expect this. He doesn't even know what it is, some nameless emotion that he feels all the way in his soul.
"I was just making a snack," Piers tells him, "but I can fix something for dinner if you'd prefer."
"I'd like that."
Piers has waited for this day, and he's gone through so many emotions trying to imagine how he'd feel. In the end, none of it matters. Dean is back. Dean is safe. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.