Bouquet

Chapter Eighteen

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."