Here With You | ✔

CHAPTER TWO; part two

Dresden Gibson

     It's May.

     And while I like to think that some things do get easier with time, this particular thing, Cas lounging something like ten — twelve feet away, in a pile of blankets and pillows, and me unable to join him, has not. They're my pillows, and my blankets, that I'll take back inside later and sleep on. They'll hold his scent even after he's left. The only thing that lingers longer than his shampoo is the pain of watching him go.

     There's nothing standing in my way, nothing that could stop me from opening the screen door and walking out there and joining him. Except that Cas would lose it. We've had this fight enough times now that I can play it in my head like a recording.

     And this is better than it's been. He's not stuck on the front stoop, always looking like he's about to leave, even when he's just gotten here. It's actually kind of absurd how long it took us to figure out we could have the same distance with the privacy of the backyard. I got a projector screen so we've been doing movie nights. If not for the fact Cas cuddles with Charlie and Delta and I've got to watch from the doorway like some weird peeping Tom, it's almost like before.

     Still, none of this is getting easier. In fact, I think it's just getting harder.

     Because he's here, now, and the sun hasn't set yet. He's bathed in a golden light, looking all bronzed and pretty, sprawled across the blankets. His shirt's hiked up a bit, and he's strumming his fingers across the patch of skin between his belly button and the waist band of his sweatpants. His hair's gotten longer, unruly now because he rolled through the grass when he got here with Charlie and Delta. They're lying at his feet, haven't moved since we finished dinner. All of these are reasons I want to be in those blankets with him and not stuck in a chair on the other side of the screen door.

     "What're you thinking about?" Cas asks suddenly. He's turned over now onto his stomach to look at me, face propped up on his hand.

     "You," I say after a moment.

     He perks up at that, smiling. "Good answer."

     I say, "True answer."

     He turns his head to the side. "What are you thinking about me?"

     "What you look like naked," I answer because I know he'll appreciate it.

     He laughs loudly. There's a nervousness to the sound. "Better answer." He shifts again, sitting back so he can bring his legs in front of him. "So I actually have some news."

     "Bad news?" I ask frowning.

     Cas shakes his head quickly. "Good news. Great news, actually. Cases have dropped enough that the ER's back at a working capacity again. Which means that it's no longer all hands on deck. So I actually was able to get PTO approved."

     I interrupt him. "For when?"

     He laughs again. "Next week would be my last week and then I wouldn't be back at work until June. So I have two covid tests already scheduled and then—."

     "You can come home?" Another interruption.

     He nods. "Then I can come home."

     It feels like every muscle in my body has gone slack, like I've been carrying around tension since the day Cas packed up and left. I lean over in my chair, bracing my arms against my legs. I breathe deeply into my hands that are steepled in front of my mouth.

     "You're coming home," I say again, quieter, mostly to myself.

     Cas hears me though, and nods. "Yeah, so I'll take my PCR on Sunday and then my rapid test is scheduled for Friday morning so if that's negative I can come home right after."