When Castiel closed up his shop to head home, he had no idea that he was being followed. He walked home as he always did in the colder months- long trench coat buttoned up against the wind and hands in his pockets. When the wind wasn't so intent on nipping, he might take his time, but in the midst of the March chill he was eager to get home to the warmth of his apartment.

The building was very plain, being nothing but brick, balconies, doors, and some windows. The hallways inside were the same. Only when you got inside the rooms did things change from dull scenery to individual decor.

Castiel's apartment was on the second floor. It was relatively simple- a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a room large enough for a sofa and television. Nothing extravagant, not unlike his shop. Its individualism wasn't defined by the simple furniture or pictures on the walls, but by the potted plants that were thrown everywhere. On the table, on the floor, on the counter, on the windowsill, on the shelves. Everywhere. Despite being surrounded by flowers all day for work, Castiel didn't mind them in his apartment.

He didn't bother with hanging his trench coat on the hook by the door, stopping inside only to grab his keys.

Castiel closed the door behind him and turned to leave. Walking down the narrow hallway, he bumped into some guy wearing sunglasses, and offered a hurried apology, not really taking any notice of who he had run into.

When he had reached the curb and had climbed into his beat up Lincoln, he turned the key and the car sputtered to life.

Castiel drove. Highway to Hell blared over the radio. He changed the station. Elvis. The last thing Cas wanted to listen to right now was music about love or classic rock or anything that reminded him of Dean.

They hadn't even been in a relationship. So then why did it feel like he had been betrayed? Or like his heart had been broken? Rationally, Castiel knew he was overreacting. (That didn't stop him from turning off the radio moments later.)

Half an hour later, he was thanking Jody Mills for letting him into the Minnehaha County Detention Center, even though visiting hours had ended ten minutes ago.

"As long as you get your brother to bring in some of his bakery sometime soon- the real stuff, not those brown 'e's that he likes to trick us with- it's no problem," Jody said, waving him off. She opened the door to the cold, beige visiting room. "You've got ten minutes."

Castiel took a seat on one of the hard chairs and picked up the phone. "Hello, Meg."

Meg smirked at him through the glass.

"Hey, Clarence. Busy watering plants?"

"Something like that," Castiel said, smiling a little. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Still locked up for helping out that dick."

"I told you-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Azazel is a bad influence. You've mentioned that."

It was good to see Meg. They had been friends since childhood. Seeing as that was the case, Meg was able to pick up on Castiel's slightly muted mood.

"What happened?" she asked. "Someone break your heart?"

"No." Castiel didn't meet her eyes.

"Come on, tell me what happened. I need some gossip, nothing happens in here. And anyway, when I get out, I gotta know who to kill," Meg said.

"You're in prison, you probably shouldn't me talking about murder," Castiel said, deadpan.

"The things I do for my friends," Meg said dryly. "Spill."

And that was how Castiel ended up talking about Dean.

Meg didn't seem to care for Dean much. She seemed to be torn between exasperation ("His eyes are green, Clarence, I get the picture.") and amusement ("You told him you'd watch Star Wars with him? Hmph. You're so far gone.").

In the end, she said, "Well, if I get out anytime soon-"

The door opened behind Cas.

"You've gotta get going, Novak," Jody said, poking her head in. "I have to kick you out."

"Just give me a call," Meg said, winking at Castiel.

Castiel gave her a look. "Goodbye, Meg," he said, then hung up the phone.

"Later." Meg smirked at Cas' retreating back.

Castiel thanked Jody again before he left, headed back home.

When he was back at his apartment, the main thing on Castiel's mind was food. He checked the fridge for leftovers, finding nothing. The freezer had only frozen pizza.

Castiel sighed. This would be the third night in a row that he had had pizza.

He preheated the oven, then went to tend to his plants. Dead flies for the venus fly trap, water for the aloe, asters, dahlias, yucca, and lilacs.

The lilacs reminded him of Dean.

Dean, who had come in, first asking for a "fuck you" bouquet for his ex-girlfriend, then one for a question of interest, and a half dozen in between. Dean, with his evergreen eyes that lit up when he talked about cars, and lips that were torture to look at without kissing. Dean, for whom Cas was harboring a huge crush on. Dean, who had found someone who wasn't Castiel.

Cas found himself hoping that whoever Dean was planning to send that bouquet to would say no.

The oven gave a ding, and Castiel hurried to put the pizza into the oven.

He had just sat down to eat when there was a knock on the door.

Castiel looked mournfully at his pizza, then stood and made his way to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw no one. Probably Gabriel, he guessed. The last time there had been a knock at his door that was unaccompanied by a person, there had been a box sitting outside. When he opened it, there had been a disgruntled garter snake inside. The next day, he had gone to work only to have Gabriel cheerfully ask, "Did you like your package?"

Cautiously, he opened the door.

He could hear retreating footsteps around the corner.

Definitely Gabriel, he thought.

Castiel looked down, expecting to find a box likely filled with Grabriel's version of a joke. Instead he found....

It took a minute to register what it was. A bouquet.

A bouquet of lilac, blue iris, and red gerbera daisies.

Dean's bouquet.

Castiel picked it up, staring at it. Had Dean really-?

No. It might not even be from him. It could just be a coincidence. If Dean had been wondering if he was interested, wouldn't he have stayed at the door?

But who else would send him a bouquet of lilac, blue iris, and red gerbera daisies? Cas remembered tucking each of these flowers into their places. Dean had been the only one to buy that bouquet today. So maybe it was him.

There were other flower shops in town, though. Really, it could have been anyone. Just because Dean had been the only one to buy that bouquet in his shop meant very little.

But it could be from him. There was the slimmest chance that it could be from Dean.

He was about to go back inside and let himself hope when he saw that there was something else by his door- a half sheet of paper that must have been under the bouquet.

Castiel picked it up, and headed inside, shutting the door behind him.

Hi. I'm guessing you know what the bouquet means since you're almost fluent in flower. So how about an answer? Sooner I get one, sooner you get to watch Star Wars.

- Dean

He grinned as he read it.

Dean Winchester had just asked him out.

Dean probably should have left his address in the note. Or his number. Despite having revised his plan dozens of times, he really hadn't thought it through.

Oh, well. Too late to revise it.

All he could do now was hope that he had delivered it to the right door, and that the florist would give him an answer. Preferably an affirmative one.

Dean glanced at the clock on his apartment wall. Twenty minutes ago, he had been sprinting down the hallway of the florist's apartment, delivering a bouquet. Fifteen minutes ago, he had been driving home. And now, he was on the phone with Sam, trying to pay attention to what his brother was saying instead of agonizing over how he should have left the florist with his number.

Evidently, he wasn't doing a very good job of it, because Sam asked him if he was okay multiple times. The third time Dean told him he was fine, Sam called bull.

"You've been really, I don't know, distracted since February," he said irritably. "You only half pay attention when we're talking, you won't tell me why Lisa actually broke up with you, and every time I ask if you're okay, you lie about that too. So honestly, Dean. What is up with you?"

He should tell Sam. Explain, be honest about it all.

Well, Sammy, I'm actually bisexual. Lisa, being the homophobic beach she is, didn't appreciate that. So, I did the reasonable thing and got her a "fuck you" bouquet. Then I ended up with a huge crush on the florist who sold me the "fuck you" bouquet, and I just asked him out via flower less than an hour ago. Does that clear everything up for you?

Dean knew he would have to tell his brother eventually. But he just wasn't ready. Not yet. That didn't mean he was any more comfortable lying to Sam, though. He hated it.

So, he did the most honest thing he could bring himself to do:

"Look, it's really not important why Lisa dumped me. I've moved on," Dean said, choosing his words carefully. "I'm actually interested in someone, so I've been trying to figure out how to ask hi- them out without freaking them out, alright? I've just been master planning."

"Right," Sam said suspiciously.

"Right," Dean said, as convincingly as he could. "Actually, I asked them out today."

"You did?" Sam sounded less suspicious.

"Yeah."

"How did it go?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"What do you mean, you're not sure yet?"

"Well, I sent Cas flowers. H- they're a florist, fluent in flower and all that." It hit Dean how much he was saying "they" and "they're." He wasn't a religious person, but he sent up a quick prayer that Sam hadn't noticed his abundant use of gender neutral pronouns.

It seemed he hadn't; he was solely focused on the fact that Dean had potentially found someone. The interrogatory edge had disappeared from his voice completely. In fact, he gave a bark of laughter. "You've had me worried about you when you've just been crushing on someone like a teenage girl?"

"Shut up," Dean told him.

"No, but really, that's great, Dean. Is Cas short for something? Like Cassie?"

Technically, it was short for Castiel, but Dean had overheard Gabriel using Cassie as a nickname before, so he figured it wasn't really a lie. Not a big one, at least.

"Yeah. He- they're pretty awesome. Never seen Star Wars, though. Too busy watching shit like Titanic."

"She's never seen Star Wars?" Sam snorted. "You'll have her watch the entire saga in a week, won't you?"

"You know me, Sammy," Dean said lightly. "Just doing my duty as a Jedi Master. Someone has to teach the Younglings."

Dean managed to keep himself focused for the rest of the call, and seemed to have, for the time being, placated Sam.

It wasn't a permanent solution, though. One way or another, it would come out. Eventually, Sam would know.

Not now, though. Dean tried to content himself with that thought. For now, things could continue how they'd always been between them.

Even without Sam knowing then, Dean still felt uneasy. The truth would come out, and they'd both have to face it. Dean just hoped- hell, prayed- that Sam wouldn't hate him for it. He couldn't take that.

Dean glanced at the clock. Seventy three minutes ago, he had been in the Impala, driving off from the florist's, wondering how Cas would react.

He resumed the wondering. It wasn't much better agonizing over whether Castiel Novak would go out with him, over worrying about the conversation he would have to have with Sam in time.