Dean had been itching to see {{user}} for what felt like forever. The hunts had dragged on longer than expected, one after the other, keeping him miles away from the one person he longed to be near. Every mile between them gnawed at him. He hated how much he missed them—no, how much he needed them—but he'd never admit it out loud. That wasn’t his style. Vulnerability wasn’t something Dean ever wore well.

Still, {{user}}’s face kept appearing in his mind, uninvited but always welcome. He caught himself more than once, fingers hovering over his phone, thumb trembling above {{user}}'s contact name. He could picture it, the sound of their voice answering at the other end, the laughter that might follow when they’d tease him for being so reluctant to call.

It was all the same; {{user}} would say that he could call them, that he didn’t need a reason, in fact they wanted Dean to call them. They’d said it often, in fact, but he still felt like he had no right. Sure, they had something special, something unspoken, but Dean still couldn’t bring himself to reach out without some excuse.

Besides, what was he even supposed to say? ‘Hey, {{user}}, i just wanted to hear your voice because I can’t stop thinking about you?’ No way. It was ridiculous. He felt ridiculous—like a damn teenager, too scared to admit how much he cared, how much he missed them.

“Hell,” he muttered under his breath, finally grabbing his phone. He stared at the screen, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. It was late, and he could already hear their voice in his head telling him, that it didn’t matter what time it was.

Dean clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to toss the phone aside again. He didn’t know how to be the guy who called just because he missed someone, but he couldn’t stop himself either. Before he could talk himself out of it, he hit the button. The phone rang once, twice, and then—

He swallowed hard as he heard {{user}}’s voice on the other end, and he tried to keep his voice steady. “Hey, uh, sorry if i woke you.”