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Dean stared down at the line of delicate flowers that had unfurled across his palm. The small purple blossoms hadn’t been there an hour ago.
An hour ago, he hadn’t had a soulmate.
At least, not one that he knew about. An hour ago, he was just Dean. He was just him, Baby, and life on the road as a hunter. But now? Now he had a soulmate. He wasn’t just himself anymore, and that thought hit him like a ton of bricks. The universe had put him with someone, and put that someone with him. Some unlucky soul out there, whoever they were, was stuck with him.
***
Castiel stared down at his hand, now dripping with blood from where he’d accidentally sliced it with a piece of glass just a few minutes prior. It stung, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care about that.
His soulmate would finally know he existed.
His person, who had given him so many beautiful orange blooms all over his body, would finally know that someone out there was meant for them. That someone out there was made to love them. He knew his soulmate had to be a good person - the universe was no slouch when it came to flower meanings, and as a florist, Cas knew exactly what gladioli symbolized. He smiled, sticking his hand back under the faucet. Whoever his soulmate was, they would finally know they were stuck with him.
***
Dean couldn’t get the damn flowers out of his mind. Unfortunately, that was beginning to become a problem, especially while he was trying not to get himself killed.
He knew he couldn’t afford to be distracted on the job. He knew that would only end with him becoming one of the long-dead hunters getting his story told to future generations as an example of exactly what not to do. He did his damnedest to lock down the torrent of emotions he’d been battling for the last week, and he thought he’d done a pretty good job of it.
But as Dean watched the werewolf he’d just shot struggle to its feet, he wondered how well he’d actually been able to do that. And when he felt the thing’s claws drag across his neck as its dying act, his only thought was about how sorry he was that his soulmate would have to watch their flowers wither away and realize he was dead. He hadn’t been successful in keeping his emotions at bay in the slightest, and now his soulmate would be forced to suffer the consequences of his stupidity.
Maybe it’s for the best. At least now they won’t have to worry about dealing with his fucked up self - hell, they’d probably be relieved about never having to meet the man who covered them in an absurd amount of flowers.
Clutching his throat as he stumbled through the woods, he thought it was kind of weird that all of the trees were beginning to look a little fuzzy. He knew he was losing blood, but it couldn’t be that much. Just enough for his hand that was holding his wound to be wet… but the front of his shirt was also starting to feel a bit tacky. There was also a small trail of blood droplets forming on the ground as he staggered forward. And the strong smell of copper permeating the air.
Actually, it might be more serious than he had initially thought.
When he finally broke through the tree line and his precious Baby and Bobby’s truck came into view, his legs were feeling like jello, and by the time Bobby reached him they stopped working altogether. Dean felt like he was being pulled somewhere, could hear Bobby trying to say something to him, shouting at him, but he couldn’t really understand him. It was a little like being underwater - he could see and hear Bobby, but everything was hard to distinguish. The last thing he remembered was being pushed into the truck and hearing a door slam before everything went black.
***
Castiel’s day had been going just fine, right up until he walked out of the back room, causing Charlie to drop a vase upon seeing him. The sound of glass shattering was enough to make everyone in the small flower shop go dead silent, but Charlie didn’t even flinch. Instead, she seemed to be laser-focused on Cas, looking horrified.
“Charlie? What’s wrong?” The sound of Cas’s voice and his hand on her arm snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.
In the shakiest, most uncertain tone he had ever heard from her, she whispered, “Cas… your neck, it-” She swallowed nervously, then took his wrist and pulled him towards the restroom. “Go look in the mirror.” The confusion he was feeling must have been written all over his face because she just shook her head and held the door open for him. “Go.”
Heart pounding, Cas did as he was told. When he finally saw his reflection in the mirror, his eyes widened - Charlie had been right to be concerned.
There, straight across his throat, stretching almost ear to ear, was a line of sunset-colored gladioli. The cheerful orange seemed so wrong, so, so inappropriate for the obviously terrifying situation at hand - they hadn’t been there even five minutes ago, he had just been talking to Charlie before he ran into the back to get some ribbon. He reached up to touch the flowers etched into his skin, and vaguely recognized that his hand was shaking. Lord, the marks were so new, his soulmate could be dying as he was just standing there - he knew that his person had been hurt a lot throughout their life, but this was by far the worst injury. Cas had often wondered how his soulmate had acquired so much damage, and wanted so desperately to assure them that he would keep them safe, but now he might never be able to do that-
“Hey, hey- dude, you’re panicking. Come here, let’s sit you down.” Charlie spoke in a soft, soothing tone as she guided him gently to the floor. He knew he was breathing heavily, but was it really enough to be worried about? He turned to say something to her, but found that he was unable to speak and that his throat seemed unusually tight. Oh, maybe he was panicking after all.
It took Charlie a full ten minutes to pull Cas out of his panic attack, but even then he wasn’t calm in the slightest. His best friend’s hand was nearly white from how tightly he was holding on, and once his adrenaline rush broke, all he could do was cry.
“Charlie, what if- what if they’re-” His voice cracked, and he dragged the sleeve of his uniform across his eyes. “What if they’re gone? What if I never get to meet them? I can’t-”
Charlie cut him off, squeezing his hand to reassure him. “It’s going to be fine. Your flowers haven’t started wilting, they’re not dead yet. And if it was an arterial bleed, they would have been long gone, it’s been at least fifteen minutes since they got hurt.”
“Yes, but-” She interrupted him again.
“Castiel.” He quieted, sniffling softly. “It’s going to be okay. Your soulmate is strong, the bastard’s damn near unkillable from what you’ve told me. They’ll make it through this, you’ll still have a soulmate, I know you will.” Cas nodded, trying to bite back a sob, and Charlie pulled him into her arms.
“I just want to be able to meet them, I want them to live - God, Charlie, I don’t know what to do if they die.” She held him tighter as he broke down again.
“I know, Cas… I know.”
***
Dean opened his eyes to nothing but white. He wasn’t sure where he was, but what he did know was that he was cold, the beeping noises were going to drive him insane, and that his throat fucking hurt. As he was able to process a little more, he remembered why his neck hurt so bad.
How was he alive?
Thankfully, he wasn’t left to dwell on that for much longer, because as soon as he tried moving around to see if all of his limbs still worked, Bobby woke up. Dean hadn’t even realized he was there until he heard a gruff, “Dean?” which was immediately followed by a shout of, “Nurse! He’s awake!”
Once the nurses had checked him out and ensured that he wasn’t about to keel over and die, Dean was finally able to turn and give his father figure a weak smile. “Hey, Bobby.” The man shot him a glare - which Dean knew to be all for show - before dragging a chair over and settling down next to him.
“You idjit! Do you know how goddamn worried I was?” Bobby hissed, lightly cuffing Dean on the back of the head before dragging him into a hug. “I thought you were dead, boy.”
“‘M sorry,” was all he managed to rasp out, clinging to Bobby like a lifeline. He felt like a little boy again, seeking comfort from his father, but this time from the man who actually deserved the title. John would have told him to toughen up, to be a man, but he was dead now and Bobby was there instead. Bobby was there, holding him, with the thought of Dean needing to man up never once crossing his mind.
The two of them were silent for a long while before he was able to detach himself from Bobby. “What happened out there, Dean? That werewolf was a nasty son of a bitch, but you got him. Hell, he was stone cold with a bullet hole through him when the guy I sent to finish him off got there. How the hell did he manage to cut you up so bad?” He knew Bobby wasn’t angry at him, concerned more than anything, but shame still burned hot in his gut. He shouldn’t have let himself get hurt like that, shouldn’t have scared Bobby like that - he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the man to watch him stagger out of the woods, covered in his own blood from what had to be a gruesome-looking neck wound-
Oh god, the wound.
Fuck, his soulmate. More horrible flowers as evidence of more of Dean being a complete fuckup, god, they had to resent him for being such a failure. They were probably disappointed that the flowers that showed up on their neck never ended up withering away, knowing they still had to deal with his shit from afar. How would they even be able to look at him if they ever ended up crossing paths? He looked like hell and had the baggage to match, it would honestly probably be best for them if they did decide he was too much trouble and ditched him.
“Dean?” Bobby’s gruff voice, laced with worry, pulled him out of his haze of self-loathing. “You okay, boy?
Dean wanted so desperately to be able to say yes, yes he was okay, to be able to flash Bobby a wide smile and for them to move on. But the universe was a bitch and seemed to have it out for him, so all Dean could do was fold in on himself as the first tears started rolling down his cheeks. Instantly, he was back in Bobby’s arms, sobs wracking his body as he broke down. Falling apart like this had only ever been reserved for nights of solitude when he thought a little too hard about what his life had become, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Bobby,” he was able to choke out after a few minutes, “I’ve got a s-soulmate. I didn’t- I didn’t know until last week.”
“Ain’t that a good thing?” And lord, wasn’t that the most unintentionally loaded question Dean could have been asked? To anyone else, it would be the best thing ever, but all it did for him was bring fear and shame. The worst part was, he knew that Bobby would understand if he told him that. But that wasn’t a conversation he could have, not today.
So, he pulled himself together as best as he could and lied through his teeth. “Yeah, yeah it is, it’s just…” He swallowed nervously. “I was distracted and got hurt because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I know they have to be worried, ‘specially when this thing showed up,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely to his throat. He felt Bobby ruffle his hair, and when Dean finally looked up he found the usually grumpy old man giving him a kind smile.
“Probably so, and you’re lucky to have survived - a distracted hunter is usually a dead hunter. But you’re alive, and that’s all that matters.” Bobby paused, then sighed. “Dean, I gotta ask. How much longer are you gonna try to follow in your daddy’s footsteps now that you know you got someone waiting for you? I know all you know is hunting, but you do have a brain up there. Shit, you’re only twenty-six, you got plenty of time to start something for yourself that ain’t near as likely to get you killed before you’re forty. You don’t need to be like your kid brother - don’t give me that look - but you'd easily be able to do whatever the hell you wanted.”
“I don’t know - you said it yourself, all I know is how to hunt, it’s all I’ve ever done. Bobby, I don’t know what I’d do.” It was overwhelming, trying to think of doing anything other than hunting - he didn’t know what having a normal life would be like.
“That’s fine, boy, it’s a tough question. To be honest, I was kinda hopin’ you’d get a soulmate so you could get the hell out of the business. Have someone to take care of you just as much as you take care of them, you know? Give you a reason to live a good, long life.”
That’s all he’d ever wanted too, but he’d never be able to express that, not even to Sammy or Bobby. He was tired of trying to be the new John Winchester - in fact, he wanted to get as far away from being his asshole of a father as possible.
Dean just nodded dumbly, but Bobby understood. “I know it’s a lot for right now, but how’s about you take a few weeks off from anything hunting-related? Take Baby and go drive around, see some things, go visit your mama? Lord knows you ain’t been to see her in a while, she could probably use a polish and some fresh flowers.” That sounded like a dream come true - he hadn’t any time at all to visit Mom or just go for a drive in Baby since John had died. The thought of that kind of freedom, even if just for a month, was exhilarating.
Dean finally let himself give Bobby a smile that wasn’t fake. “That sounds real good, actually.”
***
Castiel’s week had been… moderately better. It had been almost two full weeks since the flowers had shown up on his throat, and he had spent most of the first at home praying that his soulmate’s flowers hadn’t withered whenever he passed by his reflection. The first night had been the worst - he couldn’t sleep, and after he finally passed out for two hours he woke up in a panic. Charlie, who’d stayed over with him that night for support, had to calm him down from his second panic attack within twenty-four hours.
Needless to say, neither were having a great time.
But the days had inevitably dragged on by until he realized four whole days had passed and his soulmate was still very much alive. He also realized that he’d spent that same amount of time pretty much in complete solitude, minus the visits from Charlie when she got off work, so the very next morning he pulled on his uniform and returned to the flower shop. When Charlie saw him walk in, she just smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder, whispering a quick, “Welcome back.”
Life had returned to normal, and even though Cas was still worried about the wound on his soulmate’s neck, he wasn’t actively fearing for their life anymore. It was becoming just another one of the injuries to make up the flower garden that was Cas’ body, and that was that.
That is, until the unfamiliar, black muscle car rolled into town. Cas had never been one to notice cars, or even remotely care about them - case in point, his Lincoln, or “ugly-ass pimpmobile” according to Charlie - but this one was different. Even he could appreciate the sleek beauty of the vintage car, and knew that someone had clearly put time and effort into maintaining it - the car was a work of art. On the other hand, a car that beautiful tended to stick out like a sore thumb in the tiny town Cas lived in - just outside of Lawrence, but boring enough for most travelers to skip over it. He figured it would just be another case of someone passing through, and had gone right back to work, expecting to never see it again.
So when it rumbled up to the flower shop the following morning, Castiel couldn’t help but be a little interested.
***
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the homey-looking flower shop. It was just as worn as the rest of the town he’d driven into the day before, but it was far from being run-down. The soft yellow exterior paint, the name of the shop - Eden - painted in white on the window, all of it looked warm and inviting. Killing Baby’s engine, he stepped out and made his way to the front door.
Once he was inside, he was hit with the feeling of… peace? He wasn’t sure if it was because of the smell of flowers in the air or the fact that the place was empty and quiet, but he knew that whatever the cause, he hadn’t felt that in a long, long time. He noticed some honeycomb stained glass suncatchers hanging near the windows, throwing patterns of light around the small room, as well as a few different bee-themed items here and there. Other than that, the decor was fairly sparse, but it was still a cute little shop he’d wandered into.
He heard footsteps coming his way, and when he looked up he felt as though the air had been knocked out of him.
Holy shit, that man is beautiful.
Smooth tan skin, unruly dark hair, and the most piercing blue eyes Dean had ever seen. God, they were gorgeous - he couldn’t make himself look away. Finally, after a few seconds of getting lost in a complete stranger’s eyes, he registered that the man was speaking to him, breaking him out of his stupor. His gaze fell to the floor, his cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and he heard the man falter.
“Sir, are you alright?” Fuck, as if the man couldn’t be hotter - his voice was deep, slightly rough around the edges, and Dean had to awkwardly clear his throat to get himself to refocus.
“Yeah, sorry man, just-” He looked up, and upon finally seeing the man fully - instead of just being hung up on his pretty eyes - his blood ran cold.
He had flowers on his neck, and they were in the same spot as where Dean had gotten his throat cut by the werewolf a couple weeks prior. His eyes shot towards the man’s exposed arms and felt almost sick at the sight of more of the same sunset orange flowers in the same places as his scars. He searched for an inconsistency, anything to tell him that this poor, beautiful man wasn’t tied to him, but found nothing. Even the tiny scar on his knuckle, given to him by Sammy when they were younger, was represented by a single orange petal.
“Sir?” Dean’s sudden silence and probably horrified expression were worrying the guy, and when he heard that wonderfully deep voice again, he nearly cried. “Is something wrong?”
Dean had one last thing to try before he accepted that this guy was his soulmate. “Hey, u-um- when did those- how long ago did those flowers on your neck show up?”
The man looked shocked and appalled, like he’d been smacked. But then his brows furrowed and he snapped, “I don’t see how that is any of your concern. Now, are you going to b-”
“Just- please, answer my question! How long ago did those flowers show up?” He was on the verge of tears, desperately praying he wouldn’t have to deal with his soulmate hating him, not today.
“Two weeks ago, but-” Dean didn’t hear anything after that. Two weeks ago. Two weeks ago he fought the damn werewolf and got his throat cut. Two weeks ago his soulmate got flowers due to him being a monumental fuckup. Oh hell, this beautiful, snappy man was his soulmate.
***
Castiel was worried. The sandy-haired man who’d come into the flower shop - absolutely beautiful, by the way - had acted strange from the moment he’d walked in. The man had been staring at him, then when he finally snapped out of it at the sound of Cas’ voice, he froze. An expression of pure terror appeared on his pretty face, and he asked when Castiel had received the flowers on his neck. It was completely out of left field, and he just about saw red but ground out an answer when the man insisted. He had made it halfway through his rant about how blatantly disrespectful it was to ask him when his soulmate was injured when he finally noticed how badly the man was doing, and all of the anger dissipated in an instant.
The man was getting dangerously close to hyperventilating, and no matter the inappropriate questions he had asked, Cas couldn’t just not help someone who was that distressed. “Excuse me, are you alright? I apologize for yelling, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His words didn’t seem to have an effect, so he stepped out from behind the counter to begin making his way towards the man. This seemed to catch his attention, his lovely green eyes going wide, and his panicking only worsened.
“I’m sorry!” the man blurted out, voice fragile. Cas was confused, and took another step forward before the man screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself.
Does he expect me to hurt him? What did I… what have- what did I do?
“M’sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know you worked here. I’m sorry, god, I- I’m sorry, I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, I just-” The man took a shuddery breath. “I didn’t mean to do this to you.”
Castiel’s brain was going a million miles a minute. Why was he so frightened? Had he really been harsh enough to scare him? Yes, he’d been upset about the question the man had asked, but-
Wait.
The man had asked about Cas’s neck. He’d been fine before he’d seen the flowers - despite staring at Cas in such a way that he’d felt like he wanted to melt - but once the beautiful man had laid eyes on his throat, it had all gone downhill. He’d instantly looked terrified, stumbling over his words as he asked about the gladioli, and had begun panicking the second Cas gave him an answer-
Oh.
This man, could he be-
Castiel’s eyes slid from the man’s face to his throat, and felt his breath catch when he saw a freshly healed scar that he had clearly tried to hide with layers of flannel and leather. He was still spewing broken apologies, but Cas heard none of it. Almost as if in a trance, he crossed the space between them, barely registering how the man seemed to freeze as he approached. Cas swallowed nervously before slowly reaching for the collar of the man’s plaid shirt, hesitating momentarily, before pulling it aside as gently as he could so he could see the rest of the mark.
The flowers on his neck were a perfect match.
Cas let his fingers fall from the soft flannel, his own hands shaking as he reached for the man’s right hand, lifting it up as carefully as he could. He had pretty much already known what he would find, but it didn’t stop hot tears from prickling at the corner of his eyes when he saw the line of purple asters across the man’s palm, an exact replica of the cut Cas had gotten a few weeks before. His gaze flicked back up to meet the man’s forest-green eyes, and while his panicking had ceased, he still looked ready to bolt at any second. Castiel still couldn’t figure out why he was so frightened, but he was too preoccupied with his newest realization to focus on that at the moment.
“We’re- you’re my soulmate.” It wasn’t a question, but the man still nodded in confirmation, fear never leaving his expression. Cas couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face, so wide it made his cheeks hurt, nor could he help the tears that welled up in his eyes. He knew he should probably stay calm, talk to his soulmate, and so forth, but he was too excited for any rational train of thought. Instead, he just about toppled the man who’d given him his flowers, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. He couldn’t believe that he was actually meeting the man who, barely two weeks prior, had almost died before Cas ever got to see him. The man whom he’d spent years worrying about, wishing he could be with whenever he watched a new cluster of flowers unfurl across his skin. The man whom he’d yearned to meet, waiting to love from as far back as he could remember, was finally here.
His soulmate, seemingly caught off guard, had tensed up when Cas first dragged him into a hug but eventually allowed himself to relax, even if just barely. A moment later, he felt uncertain arms around him, and that was what tipped him over the edge. Crying, he buried his face in the shoulder of the man’s surprisingly soft, worn leather jacket, noticing the smell of campfire smoke, cheap motel soap, and something spicy and sweet that he couldn’t name. It suits him.
Eventually, he was able to calm down, wiping his eyes while sniffling softly. He knew he probably looked like a mess, but he was okay with that - he deserved to have a moment. Still clinging to the man - who was thankfully still holding him - he pulled back a bit so he could look at him and smile. “I'm sorry for crying on your shoulder even though we just met, it’s been an incredibly stressful couple of weeks and I’m honestly thrilled that I finally get to meet you.” His soulmate looked… surprised? Confused? That was odd.
“S'okay, uh-” his soulmate mumbled, still seeming like he hadn’t fully caught up with the situation. “Um, are you- you don’t, you don’t hate me? O-Or want me to leave?”
Castiel froze, staring up at the man who was still in his arms in wide-eyed disbelief. “Why would-” He paused, frowning. “Why on earth would I hate you?”
The man opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the bell on the door chiming and Charlie calling, “Cas, I’m back! I brought you a sandwich because you’re a moron who doesn’t eat, and-” She stopped in her tracks, the takeout container in her hands forgotten. “Wait, who’s this?”
Cas groaned, turning to her without detaching himself from the man whom he was beginning to realize would definitely benefit from some therapy. “Charlie, your timing is abysmal.”
All she did was shoot him a shit-eating grin. “I know. Now who’s the guy you’re currently snuggling with?”
Cas just smiled. “This-” he gestured, “-is my soulmate.” He watched as her eyes went wide, glancing back and forth between the two of them. Once she got over the surprise of the situation, she ducked her head in approval.
“Damn, Cas.” Then to his soulmate, she asked, “You got a name?” Cas felt him startle, clearly not expecting to be spoken to.
“Um, I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.” Dean’s lovely baritone voice was quiet and unsure, but he no longer looked or sounded as afraid as he had previously. Glancing at Castiel, he murmured tentatively, “Your- your name is Cas?”
“Castiel Novak, but I’ve never minded a nickname.” He flashed Dean a toothy grin, and Dean just nodded, not saying anything more. It was clear he was still nervous - which of course he was, insecurity that bad couldn’t be fixed instantly - though it was nowhere near the fear it had once been. His arms remained gently looped around Cas’ waist, but much more relaxed, and his eyes looked hopeful instead of terrified.
That was progress.
“Well, Dean, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Charlie, our darling Cassie’s best friend since college, and as his best friend I’d like to formally request that you try not to get your head removed from your shoulders again. Or I’ll do it for you.”
Castiel felt his jaw drop. “Charlie, you can’t just say that!” he hissed, swatting her arm. Head snapping up to look at Dean, he started frantically reassuring him that it was fine. "I'm so sorry, she has no filter. Please don't feel bad, it was a terrifying situation but whatever happened doesn't matter, I'm not upset with you, I swear! I was just very worried, I-"
His rambling ceased when he finally saw the ghost of a smile on Dean's - very soft, kissable - lips. "It's okay, she can give me shit for it, I got hurt because I was being an idiot." Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Charlie beat him to it.
"Where the hell were you being stupid enough to have that happen?" Damn it, Charlie.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, the nervousness he'd previously let go of returning. "Uh, work accident. Job itself is a hazard altogether, but this time was real bad." He looked at the both of them, and, noting their confusion, chose to clarify. "I, um- I'm a bounty hunter, but after this last mess I'm probably gonna find something else. 'Specially since I got someone who wants me intact." He shot Castiel a lopsided grin, and dear god he's hot. Despite the confidence Dean was putting forth, he could still see the worry lurking in his soulmate’s eyes. It reminded him of just a few minutes ago, when he had been so very afraid of Cas - the fear, the rapid-fire apologies, the tremor in his voice as he practically begged him for mercy… it was heartbreaking. He had come to realize fairly quickly that Dean had been afraid of being rejected and hated by him due to the injuries he’d acquired over the years, and Cas had been able to prove he wouldn’t do that. But because of the new information given, Dean was worried all over again and Cas had yet another chance to show his soulmate that he wasn't about to leave, not that easily.
Yes, working as a bounty hunter was certainly not something Castiel expected for his soulmate, but it wasn't anything he would be angry about either. So he just gave him a reassuring smile, squeezed his hand, and asked in his kindest, most non-judgemental tone, “What are you wanting to do instead?”
Cas would be damned if Dean ever had reason to fear him again.
***
Dean still couldn’t quite believe it.
It had been over a month and a half since the purple flowers had shown up on Dean’s palm, right around five weeks since the werewolf almost managed to kill him, and nearly a month since he walked into the tiny flower shop and his whole life was turned on its head. He would have laughed if someone had told him even two months prior how much his life would change in such a short time, and even now he could barely wrap his head around it all.
Especially the part where his soulmate didn’t actually hate him, but was instead overjoyed to meet him and loved the flowers covering his body. Castiel Novak was an angel of a man - hell, he was named after one - and didn’t seem to give a shit about the things about Dean that had always made him afraid to get too close to anyone. Cas didn’t mind Dean’s rough exterior and his often unsavory use of the English language, which Dean had initially been ashamed of whenever he heard his soulmate speak in his usual prim and proper way. Cas didn’t mind that he had hardly a dime to his name, because he’d already understood that the few things that Dean did have he cherished. Cas didn’t mind that he was all fucked up with scars and emotional baggage, because Cas was kind and understanding and had trauma of his own.
Castiel had been good to him from the beginning, and even with all of Dean’s worries and anxieties about not being good enough for him, he wanted so badly to show his soulmate he wanted to be a part of his life too. From the initial decision to not run away after meeting Cas that fateful day, to bringing him lunch at the flower shop, to fixing things around Cas’ house after he’d found out Dean was living in Baby and begged him to stay under his roof, Dean was trying. He wanted to show Cas that he was a worthwhile soulmate, and that, despite his past, he was trying to be good.
Speaking of, he didn’t let Dean’s past - the fake version he’d initially given him and the real, horrifying version that he described to Cas about a week and a half later in the dead of night - throw him off. Cas had actually smiled at him when he was done spilling his guts to him, and told him he believed him and that he even felt safer with Dean’s past as a hunter. In return, he had told Dean about why he believed him so quickly. He’d grown up in an incredibly religious, spiritual household, and even after getting away from his family he had still felt that there was some truth to the stories of monsters he’d heard growing up. He had finished off their conversation by curling up against Dean’s side and informing him that it made him feel “much more secure, knowing you have the skills and knowledge to keep us out of harm’s way”, and good lord did that make Dean want to melt.
He’d even complimented Dean’s work on Baby, as well as encouraged him to call Bobby and ask about being his apprentice when Dean finally admitted to his love of working on and restoring cars, and all he could think about in that moment was how absolutely amazing Cas was. Dean could have kissed him just for that, but on top of all of the other things that made Cas amazing, hell, he was pretty much in love with the man already.
Thus, it should have come as no surprise when Dean let that slip a mere month after meeting his soulmate. It was a beautiful summer evening, one that was being spent on the porch swing at Castiel’s house, watching the sun slowly melt into the horizon. They’d just finished dinner, and Cas had collected the plates and slipped back inside to rinse them off while Dean remained comfortably on the swing. A warm breeze rustled the trees that stood in the yard, and Dean couldn’t help but sink into the peacefulness that washed over him.
The sense of calm remained long enough for him to forget that Cas had been inside for a bit longer than he usually was when dropping off the dishes. Finally, his angelic soulmate stepped back outside holding two plates of warm, homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream, giving Dean a shy smile and a murmured “Surprise!”, all while being illuminated by the dying sun. He was beautiful, bathed in golden light - Dean thought it looked like the halo Cas so rightly deserved. He's perfect.
“God, I love you.” The words just slipped out, completely without thinking, but he knew it was the most honest thing he’d ever said. However, what Dean didn’t know was how Cas would react. It was too bold, too soon, they’d barely gotten to know each other - he was about to open his mouth to start backtracking when Castiel nearly dropped the plates in his hands in order to bend down and press his lips against Dean’s. Dean damn near bluescreened, but managed to get his brain working just well enough to kiss his soulmate back.
If it were anyone else, Dean would have scoffed at the internal panic over something as silly as a kiss. But this was Cas, who was sweet and generous and all of the other things Dean wished he could be, whose reasons for caring for him Dean was still trying to figure out - Cas had helped him a lot, but it was still difficult at times. They had been sharing a home for nearly a month, and had slept beside each other when it was too much to be alone sometimes, but they’d never kissed, not yet. So yes, he was perfectly justified in feeling overwhelmed and freaking out.
When Cas finally pulled away, he gave Dean such a radiant smile that he thought he might burst. “I love you as well, Dean,” was all Cas said before settling back down where he had been sitting, pressed against Dean’s side, and moved to hand him a plate.
Holy fuck.
All Dean could do was stare at Cas in awe. “You- you kissed me," he whispered, before mentally cursing himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut.
His soulmate paused, nodding. “Yes.” Cas swallowed, suddenly appearing to be… nervous? “I’m sorry if it was too forward, I was just thrilled to hear that you loved me. I should have asked first, I-”
Oh shit, Cas thought he was in the wrong, that Dean didn’t like it, didn’t want it. He had been wanting to kiss Cas for a while, but he would always either feel that the timing wasn’t right or he’d be too chickenshit to do anything - Cas had just done what Dean had been wanting to do all along, and now he was worrying Dean was unhappy with him?
Couldn’t be further from the truth.
Castiel was still apologizing, apparently believing Dean’s silence to be a sign that he was upset or angry, and he couldn't allow that. Taking Cas' face in his hands, he murmured a quick, "Angel, sweetheart, shut up," before leaning in again.
Since he hadn't been taken by surprise this time, Dean was able to realize how fucking amazing kissing Cas was. Cas was soft and warm and gentle, and his lips were just the same. Dean loved the closeness, loved the intimacy of such an innocent act. Hell, he was fucking giddy over kissing Cas, and he'd never felt that way about someone in his life.
This kiss lasted longer than the previous and was beginning to remind Dean why he loved the fact that they were both very touchy-feely people. Cas was already pressed against him from them being curled up together, but Dean couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine as broad, warm hands slipped beneath his shirt, settling on his waist. Wanting to reciprocate the touch, he moved to gently card his fingers through Cas' dark, dark hair, unintentionally leaving it thoroughly fucked up. It was the most intimate Dean had ever felt with someone, and the touch wasn’t even sexual. Cas really is something else.
When they finally broke apart, all Dean could do was grin at the beautiful man in front of him. Castiel was fully illuminated by the remnants of sunlight, his piercing blue eyes filled with love and joy, with the flowers Dean gave him decorating his skin. The flowers still hurt to think about from time to time, filling him with guilt over what he’d put Cas through, but seeing how much his soulmate cherished them was beginning to chip away at it.
“You love me?” was all Dean asked, and Cas rolled his eyes, exasperated but still incredibly happy as he passed Dean the long-forgotten plate of pie and near completely melted ice cream.
“What gave it away? Yes, Dean Winchester, I love you.”
Dean snorted, still grinning like a lunatic, and took the plate. “Good, ‘cause I love you too, angel.” He glanced down at the line of purple asters on his palm as Cas kissed his cheek, smiling at the thought of just how lucky those damned flowers proved to be.