#teacherau

Aziraphale opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and gradually returned to reality.

They were about to arrive in Tadfield.

The village of their childhood.

The village that Aziraphale had left behind so long ago, turning his back on his worst memories.

He didn’t realize how nervous he was until Anthony placed a reassuring hand on his knee.

"Hey, we can go back whenever you want. It’s up to you."

Aziraphale placed his hand on Anthony’s, and their fingers intertwined.

He said softly, "Thank you."

"Anthony, I'm going. To Tadfield."

They were finishing breakfast in Aziraphale’s kitchen.

Anthony looked at him and asked softly, "Are you sure?"

Aziraphale nodded. "For her and for me, so I can find some closure."

"You mean your mother?"

Aziraphale nodded again.

"When are we going?"

"We?"

"Of course, we. Remember, Team Double A forever."

Anthony held out his hand across the table, palm up. Aziraphale placed his hand on top of it, and Anthony’s long fingers closed around his.

He murmured, "Team Double A forever."

Then he let out a deep sigh and said, "Thank you for being here."

Anthony squeezed his hand. "From now on, always, Angel."

"Angel?"

"Yeah, it suits you."

Aziraphale gave a small smile and asked, "Can I call you Angel, too?"

"Nope. Come up with something else, that one's already taken."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

Half an hour later, they arrived in Tadfield. They drove past their old school and shared a knowing smile at this trip down memory lane. 

Anthony drove straight to the cemetery. It wasn’t hard to find; it was as if the village hadn’t changed at all in all these years.

Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to attend the memorial service for his father. He didn’t want to hear people talk about or sing praises to his father when he knew what kind of man he’d been. All that hypocrisy made him feel sick.

They left at a time that would allow them to arrive later, so that Aziraphale could go straight to his father’s grave.

A few moments later, Anthony pulled into the parking lot in front of the cemetery.

They didn’t move for a few moments, Anthony was just holding Aziraphale’s hand and stroking it with his thumb.

Aziraphale took a deep breath.

"I’m ready."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." 

Anthony wrapped his arm around his lover’s neck, leaned in, and pressed a long kiss on his temple. Then he said gently, "I’ll be there every step of the way. If you want to turn back, I’ll be there, too."

Too moved to reply, Aziraphale nodded, and they both got out of the car.

Aziraphale took a small piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. On it, he had scribbled directions to his father’s grave.

Once they passed through the cemetery gates, he pointed down a path to the right. "It’s this way."

They had barely taken a few steps when he felt Anthony’s hand slide down his arm until their fingers were intertwined.

"Is this okay?"

Aziraphale squeezed Anthony’s hand and gently reassured him, "Yes, it's perfect."

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but having Anthony with him the whole way, even if it didn’t make things easier, helped him get through it. In the end, he knew that no matter what happened, Anthony would be there.

Suddenly, he stopped and gasped.

"Aziraphale?"

Seeing his lover's turmoil, Anthony didn't say anything and just let him be.

Aziraphale’s heart began to pound wildly because he had just seen a small figure dressed in black at the end of the path in front of his father’s grave.

He swallowed several times before continuing forward until he reached his mother, at which point he stopped.

He wanted to go to her and didn't want to at the same time.

He took a step forward and stopped again.

Suddenly, Anthony let go of his hand, gently squeezed his shoulder, and said in an extremely soft voice, "Go on. I’ll stay here."

He walked slowly toward his mother, taking in all the changes the years had brought: the way she stood hunched over, her almost white hair, and her much slimmer frame.

Suddenly, she turned around.

When she saw him, her eyes widened.

"Aziraph—" Her voice caught in her throat as she crossed the few steps that separated them. Once in front of him, she raised her arms, then let them fall and lowered her head.

It was the same defeated attitude she had when she disagreed with a decision that Aziraphale’s father made but had no way of defending.

Always bowing.

Aziraphale had witnessed this attitude so many times as a child, and it was only now that he could understand it.

That was enough for him.

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his mother.

He heard a stifled sob against his chest.

"Oh, Aziraphale, my little boy. I’m… I’m so… I don’t… Please forgive me. I’m so sorry."

Aziraphale, his throat tightening, pulled his mother closer. His resentment toward her didn’t disappear, but it was somewhat tempered. As he looked at his father’s headstone looming over his mother and felt her tremble with sobs against him, he realized that she had probably suffered the most. 

She had stayed with her husband.

Aziraphale hadn’t lived constantly under his father’s thumb; he had been able to have a real home when she couldn't.

Things had another meaning with his adult perspective.

His gaze hardened as he watched his father’s gravestone, and he shook his head.

You won't get even a second more of our time.

Aziraphale tried to pull away from his mother. He pushed her back a little and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Mum, Please calm down. It'll be okay. I promise." 

He waited for her sobs to subside, then watched as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her eyes and nose, and finally looked up at him.

With red eyes from crying and a voice still choked with tears, she softly said, "My son, You’ve grown so lovely. No, I’m sorry. I didn't mean it. You’ve always been lovely.

She raised her hand, bringing it close to his face, but then stopped. Aziraphale smiled gently and nodded, encouraging her. His mother reached out and stroked his cheek. 

"My brave boy. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so—"

Aziraphale pressed a finger to her lips.

"Stop apologizing, Mum."

"Am I still?"

"What? My mother?"

Aziraphale gently shook his head and kindly replied, "What a question! Of course. It was him..." He nodded toward the grave behind them and continued, "Who made me leave." "Listen, I’ve suffered so much, and now I realize even more clearly just how much you’ve suffered. The pain Dad caused me and the pain he caused you won't just disappear like that. But nothing is lost for either of us. You just have to give us some time. You’re still my mother, though. Of course."

His mother hugged him tightly before stepping back.

Then she asked timidly, "Are you coming home?"

Aziraphale nodded and turned to Anthony, who was leaning against a tree a short distance away.

"I didn't come alone."

His mother looked at Anthony, and he watched her eyes widen.

"Oh... is that your..."

"It's new," Aziraphale said softly. "We haven’t decided anything yet. It’s...a work in progress, let's say. But it's not casual I hope you do—"

This time, she put a finger on his son's lips. 

"Don't finish that sentence. Whatever you may have heard, whatever your father said, I never thought that. I never agreed with his opinion on the matter. We don't have time for all that now. Anyway, you and..."

"Anthony."

"You and Anthony are welcome to come home."

Relieved, Aziraphale replied, "Thank you. We'll come, but..."

He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Mom, I just wanted to…" He pointed to the gravestone and continued, "You see..."

Nodding, his mother placed her hand on his arm and said gently, "I'll wait for you there with Anthony."

Aziraphale watched his mother walk away toward Anthony, who simply nodded and smiled at him.

With a lump in his throat, Aziraphale turned around and walked over to his father’s gravestone. He stood there, unable to speak.

Meanwhile, his mother had joined Anthony.

Anthony held out his hand to her and said softly, "Hello, Mrs. Fell. I’m sorry for your loss."

She squeezed his hand in return and replied, "Thank you... Anthony, is that right?"

Anthony smiled softly and asked, "Have I changed so much that you don't recognize me?"

Aziraphale’s mother narrowed her eyes, and after a few moments, she exclaimed, "That red hair! Oh, you’re that Anthony. The little boy who used to play with my son. You two were inseparable, and he was so upset when you left."

"Yes, madam, that’s me."

Suddenly, Elisabeth turned pale. "That...that means..."

Anthony looked at her sympathetically. "That he knows about the letters."

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. My husband, he’s the one who… I know I shouldn’t have, but—"

"Please calm down, madam," Anthony said soothingly."From what I know of Aziraphale, and from what I witnessed just a moment ago, I think your son has opened your eyes to a lot of things."

"It's not just him; it's you, too. I’ve caused you pain as well because my son never received your letters."

Anthony placed a hand on Aziraphale’s mother’s arm.

"If I may, madam—"

She shook her head. "Oh, there's no need to call me 'madam.' I’m Elisabeth."  

Anthony cleared his throat. "Elisabeth, one of Aziraphale's greatest gifts is forgiveness. I’m sure that when the time comes, we’ll cross that bridge together."

Though looking a little skeptical, Elisabeth nodded. "You seem to know him well."

Anthony smiled before replying, "Well, we met again not long ago, and it was easy for us to reconnect. Your son is remarkable. Let's just say we're figuring out our relationship as we go along."

Elisabeth's voice was hoarse when she said, "I'm glad to meet you again. Even if it’s under sad circumstances."

"Me too, Elisabeth."

Their eyes turned toward the figure standing immobile in front of the gravestone.

Finally finding the strength, Aziraphale began to speak in a slightly hoarse voice. 

"Father. Father, It's strange how that word sounds coming out of my mouth. At first, I didn’t know why I’d come. Maybe it was to apologize for not being the son you wanted me to be. Now that I’m here, I know that’s not it. I don’t have to apologize for who I am. I’m proud of who I am. The fact that you didn’t like who I was, that was your problem, not mine. Not mine. I don't want to justify or explain myself. I'll just say that I'm done with you. I'm leaving, and I'm leaving you behind for good. I’m going to make sure Mum is happy. I'm going to make sure she experiences the happiness you deprived her of. I’m going to focus on the livings. I'm going to focus on those who love and respect me just as I am. Goodbye."

He took a deep breath, leaving all the unspoken words and resentment hanging in the air. He knew it wouldn’t disappear all at once, but he knew he could finally leave it behind.

Aziraphale turned around and strode confidently toward Anthony and his mother.

When he reached them, his mother put her hand on his arm and Anthony asked Aziraphale gently, "Are you okay?"

Aziraphale nodded and replied, "I'm okay now."

Then he asked his mother, "Are you done here?"

She nodded.

"Shall we go home?"

Aziraphale took his mother’s arm, and they began walking down the path toward the parking lot. Anthony walked quietly a few steps ahead of them.

Aziraphale felt at peace just looking at him.

"You love him, don't you?"

His mother’s voice was barely a whisper.

"I…"

"Don’t say anything. Just answer one question, my son: Are you happy?"

After a moment of thought, with his eyes fixed on the tall figure walking ahead, Aziraphale replied, "I’m on my way to it."

His mother hummed and replied, "That's good."

They had reached the car. Anthony held the front door open to help Aziraphale’s mother get in while Aziraphale took a seat in the back.

Once everyone was settled in the car, Anthony started it and they headed for Aziraphale's childhood home. Aziraphale dreaded coming back, but now that he was grown up, everything seemed smaller. After touring the unchanged house, Elisabeth served them tea and cakes. They talked for hours, making up for lost time. When the silences occasionally became awkward—after all, 20 years can't be bridged just like that—Anthony skillfully helped them overcome the awkwardness and maintain the conversation.

Elisabeth hinted that she would probably sell the house and look for something smaller as she was getting older. Perhaps she would look for something nearer to Aziraphale.

As the sun started to set, Elisabeth invited them to stay to dinner. After they accepted, she encouraged them to go for a walk while she prepared the meal. 

Aziraphale realized this was also a way for his mother to have a little time a lone to process it all.

Anthony and Aziraphale were now in the garden, near an old apple tree. One of its branches still held a swing on which Aziraphale used to play. The rope was frayed, and the wood was weathered.

Anthony took his lover's hand and asked gently, "How are you?"

Aziraphale brought his lover’s hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to it, and said, "It might seem too optimist regarding the situation, but I'm fine."

"You feel what you feel. There are no rules. Your relationship with your father was special. Maybe the fact that you left was like your father no longer existing for you. Maybe that’s when you went through the grieving process."

"Hmm...maybe. I know it won't be always easy, but I think I'm on the right path.

Anthony raised his hand and gently brushed his lover’s hair back. 

"I think so, too. Are you still willing to walk this path with me?"

Aziraphale looked up at him. "So much."

"You're amazing, you know."

As he saw the admiration in his lover’s eyes, he thought back to his mother’s question.

Do you love him? 

He knew the answer.

Of course he loved him.

Ever since he’d wrapped his little finger around Anthony’s.

Team Double A forever.

Their childhood love had turned into adult love when they found each other again. Their new feelings were fueled by those of the past and Aziraphale had quickly fallen in love with his childhood sweetheart all over again.

Their adult relationship was only a few days old, of course, and seemed a bit cliché, like falling in love at first sight. But what is love at first sight anyway? Maybe it was recognizing a soul you loved in a past life and falling in love with it again. He’d loved Anthony’s soul in that life, back when he was just five years old.

That's why he couldn’t deny what he was feeling today.

"Aziraphale?"

Anthony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

Gazing at his amazing lover, he said playfully, "I think I know."

"What?"

"How to call you."

Anthony looked at him, puzzled.

"You told me that I couldn't call you Angel, so I figured out what I should call you."

"What?"

"My love."

Anthony blushed slightly as he answered, "I really like that."

Aziraphale blinked, almost surprised by how easily Anthony admitted it. 

"Really?"

Anthony didn’t answer with words. He stepped into the small space between them, closing the gap entirely. He reached out and cupped Aziraphale’s face with a reverence that made his lover's breath hitch. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his lover's in a slow, devastatingly tender kiss.

Aziraphale pulled him closer, his hands finding the small of Anthony’s back, and they stood there for a long time, bathed in the amber glow of the dying light. The shadows lengthened around them, but neither moved to leave. They knew they were standing on the threshold of something new, something beautiful, and finally, something theirs.

After watching the two figures kiss and embrace, Elisabeth reached for her handkerchief to wipe away a few tears.

What could be more beautiful and moving than witnessing her child's happiness? Especially since she had thought she had lost him forever.

As she watched them through the curtains, a memory came flooding back, something she thought she had long forgotten.

Anthony and Aziraphale were sitting in the grass, making flower armbands.

Elisabeth watched them from the terrace.

Aziraphale tied the armband he had made around Anthony's wrist and asked, "Hey, Anthony, will we be friends forever?"

Anthony nodded, his little red curls bouncing around his face.

He put the armband around Aziraphale's wrist and said, "Yes, forever."

"Do you promise?"

He held up his little finger and said, "Team Double A forever."

She watched her son do the same and curled his little finger around Anthony's as he repeated, "Team Double A forever."

The two boys continued to laugh and talk, blond hair touching red curls. They were happy in their own little world, oblivious to the rest of it. 

Elisabeth let the curtain fall over the silhouettes of her son and Anthony embracing beneath the apple tree.

Do you love him?

Her son had just answered that question without knowing it. She smiled as she walked toward the door to call the two men in for dinner.

Life was offering her a second chance.

An unexpected happiness.

And she wasn't going to let it slip away.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mr Novak, Castiel, is head of the history department. He’d started at the school about a year before Dean. He’s a little dorky and doesn’t always get people’s jokes or references but Dean knows the kids love him. He’s had many auto shop classes that begin with students telling him all about the ‘totally awesome’ history lesson they’d just had with Mr Novak. 

Dean pretends not to understand the implication in Krissy’s question. “What do you mean?”

But Krissy isn’t letting it go. “It’s just that we’ve all noticed that you get into the same car with Mr Novak every day after school.” She shrugs, feigning innocence as if her words aren’t peppered with sly suggestions. “And we all know it’s your car because you never stop going on about it even though it’s old as hell and no one, except old men, drive cars like that anymore.”

Dean tries not to be offended on behalf of his baby. He wasn’t going to argue with a teenager about the merits of a well-kept classic vintage car. Not again anyway. 

“It ain’t any of your business, Krissy, but Mr Novak doesn’t have a car so I drive him home.” Dean explains. “Happy?”

Krissy seems to relent, realising she’s not going to get a rise out of her teacher today. 

“Nah,” comes a voice from the back row. “I reckon there’s more to it than that.”

The class shuffles around to reveal Claire Novak smirking back at the teacher. She has a mischievous look in her eyes that Dean doesn’t like. She has the rest of the students intrigued though. 

Claire’s sly look only gets bigger as she begins to speak again. “I think they’re secretly dating,” she says, never taking her eyes off Dean, watching for his reaction. 

Dean sighs. Where is that damn bell?

“No, Claire, me and Mr Novak are not dating,” he denies. “And you of all people should know that.”

Claire is Castiel’s niece. Her dad is Castiel’s twin brother, Jimmy. Jimmy came to school to pick Claire up once and it weirded everyone out seeing the exact replica of their favourite teacher stood right next to the man himself. 

“Okay, fine,” Claire relents, “but you like him, right?”

Dean is saved from answering by the bell finally ringing.

*  *  * 

Dean was foolish to hope that the details of the interrogation he’d received would stay in home room. 

By third period, he’d heard students from each of his classes whisper as they were meant to be working. He couldn’t make out everything they were saying but he kept hearing the words ‘crush’ and ‘Mr Novak’ in the same sentence. 

Crush? Dean is a grown man. He hasn’t had a crush since he met his first boyfriend when he was sixteen. 

He takes a deep breath. It’ll blow over soon. 

*  *  * 

It does not blow over. 

A week later and everyone is still talking about. Even some of the other teachers have been giving Dean knowing looks every time he’s sat next to Castiel in the teacher’s lounge. Though, Cas seems to remain none the wiser. 

By the end of the day, Dean is glad to see his baby. He couldn’t wait to get home and be distracted from the rumours of his feelings for his fellow teacher. 

As usual, Castiel joins him for the journey. Luckily, none of their students seem to be around when they get into the car. 

Once they leave the school parking lot, Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He can just be himself now, and not worry about what other people are thinking. 

The two men sit in silence for a few moments. Dean’s eyes are on the road ahead. Driving always calms him. 

“Dean, can I ask you something?” 

“Think you just did, Cas,” Dean smirks, not taking his eyes from the road. 

“You’re hilarious,” Castiel replies. Dean sees him roll his eyes from the corner of his own. His smirk just gets bigger. 

“I’ve been hearing some things around school recently,” Cas says, his voice changing to a more serious tone. “And, I just wanted to ask. Do you have a crush on me?”

It’s silent in the car for a few moments until Dean is the first to crack. 

He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you managed to say that with a straight face.” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. 

The car pulls into the driveway of a modest two-storey house. Dean cuts the engine and turns to Cas. 

The other man is quietly laughing too. He looks quite amused with himself. He is honestly such a dork, Dean thinks.

But then his face turns serious again. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a crush on me?” He asks again. 

Dean thinks for a minute, taking in the man sitting in front of him. “Do I have a crush on my best friend, and husband of thirteen years? Yeah, I guess I do.”

Dean gives Cas a teasing smile and leans across the passenger seat to bring his husband into a smiling kiss. 

*  *  *

Later that evening, Dean and Castiel are laying together in their bed. Only a lamp on the nightstand lights the room, letting out a relaxing glow. 

Castiel reaches out to let Dean cuddle up to him. Dean rests his head on Castiel’s chest. He plays with the fingers on Castiel’s left hand. Castiel lets him and goes with the movement when Dean turns his hand over to reveal the small ‘18’ tattooed on the underside of his ring finger. 

They’d met on September 18th in their junior year of high school. From that day, Castiel had been Dean’s first and only crush. 

Castiel and Jimmy had just transferred from their old school. It was some old-fashioned super religious school but some bad shit had gone down and the school had to close. Dean’s school had been the next best thing according to Castiel's overbearing, church-going, Jesus devotee parents. 

Dean and Castiel became inseparable by the time it came for them to graduate. By then, everyone knew they were together but they didn’t care. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end for them. 

For obvious reasons, Castiel’s parents were the only ones who had never found out about their relationship. Given what they thought about anyone who wasn’t straight, the boys thought it was safer to keep it from them. They didn’t know what they might try to do to Castiel if they found out. 

The day after their graduation, Dean had packed up his car and they ran away. They went to college in another state and never looked back. Castiel had left his parents a note explaining everything and telling them not to try and contact him - though Castiel didn’t think they’d want to after they’d found out he was gay. 

Dean’s family knew where they’d gone (they’d always been supportive of their relationship since the beginning). They welcomed Castiel into their family and treated him like their own. They’d visit the boys for the holidays and eventually, once Dean’s brother, Sam, finished high school, they all moved to be closer to their boys. 

Castiel had felt guilty for years for leaving his brother but in their second year of college, Jimmy tracked Castiel down and told him he’d left too. (Turns out he’d got his high school girlfriend, Amelia, pregnant and their parents didn’t take kindly to it happening out of wedlock.) 

Dean and Castiel got married while they were still in college. Most people would warn them against getting married so young but their family knew they weren’t being naive. They were it for each other. 

They had a small ceremony on the anniversary of their first meeting. Sam and Jimmy had been best men and two-year-old Claire was their flower girl. (Despite what her attitude now might make you think, she was an adorable toddler who stole the show with her adorable presence.) 

Over the years, they’d kept their marriage on the down low. Castiel was a little paranoid that his parents would somehow find them and try to take him away from Dean and their family. They had a lot of connections and Castiel wouldn’t put it past them to use those connections to find him. 

So, when they both became teachers and ended up working at the same high school, Castiel had asked Dean if he could be called Mr Novak so as not to draw attention to them. (Same sex marriage might be legal now but it would still turn heads to have two husbands teaching at the same school, which was the kind of thing Castiel wanted to avoid.) Dean had agreed, he just wanted his husband to feel safe. They still went home together at the end of the day and that’s all that mattered to him. 

But it is that exact act which has led them to where they are now. 

“Dean,” Castiel speaks into his husband’s hair. “I think it’s time to tell everyone the truth.” 

Dean turns to sit up properly and look at Castiel. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I know you love and I sure as shit love you,” he reassures Cas. “Plus, it’s only your teacher name that’s still ‘Novak’. Legally, you’re a Winchester,” he smiles. 

“I know, but I want to be honest with our coworkers and students too.” Castiel explains. “And maybe I want to show them that you’re not the only one with a crush,” he teases. 

“Awesome.” Dean beams. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it anyways. We’ll just start wearing our rings tomorrow and they’ll figure it out.” 

Castiel nods in agreement. 

Dean could just burst with happiness. He’d finally be able to show Castiel off like he’s always wanted to. 

Currently, his wedding ring sat against his chest on a silver chain under his shirt. Castiel keeps his safely tucked away, only taking it out for special family occasions (hence why he got the tattoo - as a more subtle and personal token of his love for Dean). Dean couldn’t wait to feel the weight of the ring on his finger every day. And knowing Castiel would be walking around with his matching one makes Dean smile like a love-sick dork.

Suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, Dean settles down into the sheets again, eagerly awaiting sleep to take him so it could hurry up and be morning. 

He’s just drifting into sleep when Castiel’s voice whispers against his ear. 

“Dean?”

Dean hums, not mustering the energy to turn over and face his husband. 

“Not that I’m not happy that it gave me the perspective to stop being scared, but where did the rumours of you having a crush on me come from anyway?”

Trust Cas to think of the semantics just as Dean is trying to sleep. 

Dean only has one word. 

“Claire.”

Castiel sighs. “I should have known. I’ll talk to her.”

Dean finally turns to look at Cas in the eyes. Green meets blue. “Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smiles. “She’s just teasing like all teenagers do. She would never actually tell anyone anything we’re not comfortable with.” 

Castiel shrugs and nods his head in silent agreement. 

“I’ll just get her back when we go to your brother’s for dinner on Sunday.” Dean yawns, cheekily. 

Castiel rolls his eyes. The joking rivalry between Dean and their niece never seems to end. 

Dean smirks and leans over to kiss Castiel. “Goodnight, Mr Winchester.”

“Good night, Dean.” 

*  *  *

The next morning, Dean walks into his home room class and begins the regular formalities of the morning. 

Claire walks in late a few minutes later. She says nothing to Dean until she sits down at her desk, puts her feet up on the table, and says in a nonchalant manner, “Nice ring, Mr Winchester.” 

The rest of the class look to Dean’s hand. Sure enough there’s a silver band on his left hand that hadn’t been there the day before. 

“I just saw a matching one on my uncle’s hand when I handed in my history project. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” She smirks as the rest of the students’ mouths drop open. Dean’s known Claire long enough to know that it’s a smirk of love though. 

The news of his and Castiel’s marriage (and Castiel’s new teacher name) reaches his freshman class by second period. He should have known it wouldn’t take long. 

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Mae! 

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill! 

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