They fell into an easy routine.

Dean woke up first, then made coffee. After that, he woke Cas. Cas would water his plants and watch Dean make breakfast. Meg would get up at random- sometimes before Dean, other times after Cas- and either make fun of Dean for being a textbook housewife, or whisper to Cas that he'd found a keeper. (When she did the first, Dean told her to shut her cakehole if she wanted food. It didn't always work.)

After breakfast, Dean would leave for Bobby's Auto, leaving Cas and Meg. They would find something to do until Cas had to walk to the flower shop. On Fridays, when Dean stopped in, he'd drive Cas home. On his off days, he'd make dinner. Some nights, Cas would help.

When dinner was over, they'd watch a movie or play a game (or if Meg was gone, utilize the bed). At the end of it all, they would fall asleep, tangled together.

Granted, Dean would hog the tv sometimes to watch Dr. Sexy and wouldn't fold his laundry. He'd get on Cas' case every so often for leaving his dishes in the sink instead of loading them into the dishwasher. Even with that, Cas' wouldn't trade it for anything.

Imperfect as it was, it was theirs. It was good.

Cas could get used to that routine. He was used to it. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like longer. Like he'd been waking up next to Dean for years, like Dean had always been wearing his clothes (after a few days, Dean had gotten his own clothes, but he still frequently stole Cas').

The best thing about their arrangement was that Dean's apartment wouldn't be set for residents to move back in for a few months. As far as Cas was concerned, they had all the time in the world.

It was mid-July when their routine changed.

"Clarence, freckles," Meg announced, "I hate to disappoint, but I'm moving out."

"Really? When?" Cas asked.

"Two weeks. It's closer to work. Also means I don't have to deal with you two."

Cas wanted to feel guilty about Meg having to put up with him and Dean, but he didn't.

"Don't worry," Meg said, smirking at him. "I'll still come over and annoy you frequently."

That night, when he and Dean were laying in bed, they talked quietly.

"It'll be nice," Cas admitted. "Having the place to ourselves."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I mean, I know she's your friend, but-"

"Yeah." Cas hesitated. "Dean, when your apartment is ready, are... are you planning on staying there?"

Dean turned his head to face Cas. He was silent.

Cas couldn't make out his expression. He panicked. Had he been too forward? Was- should he have not tried to-

"Are you- Cas, are you asking me if I want to move in with you? Like, for real?" Dean said, voice soft.

"I- yes," Cas said. "If you want to, that is."

"Okay," Dean said.

It took a moment for it to register. "Okay?"

"Okay." Dean leaned forward ever so slightly to press his lips to Cas'. "I-" He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say next. "I'm happy you want me to stay," he settled for.

Cas knew that wasn't what he had wanted to say, but he didn't press. Instead, he kissed Dean again. "I'm happy you want to stay."

"'Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Neither of them fell asleep quickly. Cas could feel Dean breathing against him, relaxed but not asleep. They didn't talk, just existed.

Cas didn't know how long it was before he drifted off. But when he did, he was happy. Dean wanted to stay.

Cas usually woke up to Dean trying to extract himself from Cas, or to the smell of Dean's cooking. The next morning, it was with his arm around Dean's waist.

Dean's fingers were laced between his, and it was obvious he was awake, though he hadn't made any move to get up. "Morning, sunshine."

Cas smiled, eyes still closed. "Hello, Dean."

"I'm off of work today," Dean said. "Got Gabriel to let you off, too. We've got the whole day to ourselves."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"Well, we're officially living together now," Dean said. Cas could hear the grin in his voice.

"That's true."

"And we've known each other for exactly six months now."

Cas blinked his eyes open. "Really?"

"Yeah. Figured that was kinda special, right?"

Had it only been six months? Six months since Dean showed up asking for a "fuck you" bouquet, joking about wanting whatever anemone was more poisonous? Since he had walked into Castiel's life with his bright, almost cocky smile and his obscure pop culture references Cas didn't always get and his dusting of freckles and his way of making Cas feel like he was floating and everything else that made him beautiful? Everything else that made him Dean Winchester?

"That's extremely special," Cas said. "I know exactly how we should celebrate."

"Oh?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to stay in bed with me and we're going to sleep in. Then we'll figure out breakfast. And then," Cas said, "we can do what you're thinking."

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas and pulled him closer. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Dean didn't know why he couldn't say it.

I love you.

Three words. Three simple words that he meant, maybe more than anything else.

Probably because those words were so final. Saying them out loud would make them real.

It wasn't that Dean didn't want to love Cas- loving Cas was like a drug; it was a high he didn't think he could ever come down from. The thing was, if he did come down, if Cas didn't feel the same, Dean hit the ground hard and he doubted he'd be able to get back up.

And anyway, who said Cas felt the same way?

And even if he did, Cas deserved better. Cas deserved the best.

It had taken almost two hours before Cas let him get out of bed to make breakfast. It was another fifteen minutes before Cas joined him in his- their- kitchen.

Wordlessly, Dean passed him a cup of coffee.

Cas accepted it with a smile that made Dean's heart flutter in his chest.

Whether he deserved Cas or not, he had him.

Dean returned the smile.

"So," Cas said, "we met six months ago today, but it was several weeks later when you took me to the Roadhouse. We're still celebrating, though. Does that mean we're only celebrating us meeting?"

"We'll celebrate everything," Dean decided. "Meeting. Me asking you out and you agreeing. Uh, spending the night together for the first time. You meeting Sam and Bobby and Charlie and Kevin. Asking me to move in."

"That's a lot of celebrating," Cas remarked.

"Well, yeah. I think it's worth it, though."

Cas' response was almost too quiet for Dean to hear.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Dean turned back towards the griddle he was making pancakes on.

He wanted to tell Cas.

Three simple words. Words didn't seem to work, though.

As Dean flipped one of the pancakes, a lush, potted lilac across the apartment caught his eye.

He had an idea.