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Dean couldn’t really tell you how long he’s been waiting for this day to come. There’s a couple of distinct schools of thought on the subject. On one hand, he’s been actively counting down the days since he found out about Cas’ plan to take a contract in Atlanta, and in that case he’s been waiting for six weeks, two days, and ten hours. By the time Cas’ plane lands, that will be the exact measure of how long he’s been waiting. In a more intangible way, however, he’s been waiting for much longer, on account of that whole thing where he was madly in love with Cas before they ever laid eyes on one another. In either case, all that waiting is about to come to an end, and Dean could not possibly be more excited if he tried.
The last six weeks have not been easy, but they have not been terrible. Dean’s used to the pining from afar thing. He did it for years. It’s different though, now that he knows Cas loves him too, now that he knows Cas has been hung up for just as long as Dean has. Neither of them can say with any certainty when it happened, but they have similar stories of gradually coming to realize that there were feelings. Cas thinks it’s kinda cute how they both assumed the other one didn’t reciprocate, but the whole thing makes Dean wish he had the stones to say something years ago. Maybe they could have been together already by this point. None of that matters now, though, because Dean’s standing at the arrivals gate, waiting impatiently for Cas to walk through the door and back into his life.
Surprisingly, very little planning went into this date. The day itself was determined by Castiel’s start date at his new position, the flight booked and paid for by the company, and the only things left to decide were just minor details. Well, and one major one, but it turned out to be pretty much a non-issue by the time Dean wrangled up the fortitude to bring it up.
“So do you know where you’re staying when you’re in Atlanta?” he asked one evening, as they sat in their respective homes and chatted about their respective days. It came off about as casual as Dean figures he could have managed, but his stomach was still in knots as the words left his mouth.
“Not sure yet,” Cas replied, sufficiently nonchalant. “There’s a couple of furnished subleases I was looking at but I’m not really sure I want to rent something sight-unseen. I’ve heard too many stories about scams to want to chance it.”
“Stay with me,” Dean blurted out. He meant to be more stealth about it, work it into conversation as a casual suggestion, but apparently his mouth had other ideas. “I mean, if you want. You don’t have to. It’s probably too much too fast, right? I mean, forget it. That’s a terrible idea. Forget I said anything.”
“Dean, shut up,” Cas interjected. “I was kind of hoping you’d ask. I didn’t want to impose, but that seems like an excellent plan.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Dean replied with a wide grin creeping across his face. “I mean, how are we ever going to figure out if we can hack it long term without all the ugly details of living in each other’s spaces? Full disclosure, I sing in the shower and I never throw my shit in the laundry basket and I never learned how to crack an egg without getting bits of shell in it.”
“It’s a good thing you have an ass I could bounce a quarter off of then,” quipped Cas. “That’ll make up for all kinds of personality flaws.”
At least part of Dean’s brain suggests that he’s rushing headlong into something borne of pure romantic stupidity, but there’s enough people in his life who are over the moon happy for him that it all kinda gets drowned out with the positivity. After Charlie got over her insufferable gloating, she became their biggest cheerleader, going so far as to announce to anyone who will listen that she ships it (whatever that means) and grilling Dean for whatever new developments she can glean from their conversations. She nearly ruptured his eardrums with her shrieks when he informed her that Cas would be moving into his place, and was not at all concerned with Dean’s caveat that it was temporary and just a trial run. Sam was a little more reserved in his excitement but no less supportive, and made Dean promise to bring Cas over for dinner sometime in the first week or so, after he’d settled in.
All those conversations were months ago though. That was all theory and discussion and planning, and as much as it allowed Dean to prepare his life for the addition of Cas, none of it really prepared his brain for the reality of it. That’s why, after six weeks, two days, and ten hours of waiting (but who’s even counting?), he’s waiting at the arrivals gate watching the other passengers from Cas’ plane trickle through the gates, and willing his heart not to leap directly out of his chest cartoon-style.
Last time, Cas surprised him. He stopped watching to check his phone and got caught off guard, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Cas approached out of the throngs of other passengers. This time, he’s ready. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the doors for anything longer than a blink, and he’s going to see Cas the second he comes into view. He watches families and couples and single travellers disembark, businesspeople in suits and clever folks in comfy sweatpants, and all of them slip by without making any impact on Dean. He doesn’t care one whit about any of the rest of them, even the ones who nearly knock him off his feet brushing past without a care for his personal space. None of them matter. He’s only got eyes for Cas.
The second he spots that same tan trench coat Cas wore last time, everything else falls away. Dean gets tunnel vision, his perception narrowing to just Cas’ coat and Cas’ face and Cas, walking closer with as much speed as the disregarded crowd will allow. It takes Dean a moment or two to realize he’s moving too, approaching Cas with so much nervous anticipation boiling through his veins that it’s a true shock he hasn’t broken into a run. He forces himself to keep a reasonable pace, if only so he doesn’t knock over some kid in his path (he hasn’t noticed any because hey, he’s not noticing anyone right now), but it doesn’t take long at all to weave their way through the crowd and fall into each other’s arms again.
The second he feels Cas’ arms close around him, it doesn’t even matter that he’s been in the city he resides in this entire time, because it feels like coming home. Cas is solid and warm and real, and he’s everything Dean wanted and needed and craved all this time, everything that Dean never knew was missing from his life until he found it and it found him. Cas sighs, a soft, contented noise, and Dean hums in reply. There are no words needed. They both know everything the other could offer right now.
Cas’ arms tighten around Dean, and Dean’s tighten in response. He won’t be the first one to let go, and he hopes Cas doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon either. All these weeks he’s been dreaming of kissing Cas, of hearing his voice without the distortion of a phone line, of touching him, caressing him, doing all manner of things that are not appropriate for an airport terminal arrivals gate, but at this moment, nothing outside the hug even exists anymore. All he has, all he needs is Cas, and it seems that Cas shares his opinion, because instead of loosening his grip, he leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and sighs again.
It’s a solid couple of minutes before either of them moves. The waves of people break around them, weaving a path around the two immobile figures in their midst, and although a few travellers bump and jostle them, Dean and Cas are largely unperturbed by their movements. When then finally break away, it’s only by half measures, leaning back far enough to gaze at each other’s faces but not actually releasing their holds.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas says finally, his deep voice a little shaky with emotion.
“Hi,” Dean replies, dipping his head slightly to press a chaste kiss to Cas’ lips. “Welcome home.”