“Say that again and I'll break your nose!”
Dean Winchester rushes out with his chest heaving to the front porch of the Inn, where he meets his brother, Sam Winchester, who has his hackles raised and is leering over the flower delivery man, who’s gazing defiantly back at him. Placing a calming hand Sammy’s back, he says out of breath, “Sorry, I got here as quickly as I could. What’s wrong?”
“He’s a scoundrel!”
The delivery man sighs. “I’m just doing my job, man, back off!”
“Okay,” Dean says with a slight shake of his head. “What’s going on?”
Dean had been preparing for a wedding that was to be held at the Inn in about four hours, so he needed all men (and women) on deck. He had gotten suited up and all that jazz, and he expected his brother to do the same. Instead of supporting him with the food deliveries and the floral setup, he had found his brother not suited up and instead arguing heatedly with the local flower man.
“Am I or am I not,” Sammy begins, pent-up, “the head man in charge of the floral deliveries?”
Dean nodded, not knowing where this was going to go. “Yeah, and you’re honestly the only guy I’d know to say that proudly.”
Sam ignores the jab. “So, I would never freaking-”
“I’m just doing my job!” The pudgy delivery man puffs out his chest in anger, narrowing his eyes at the much taller man.
“I didn’t order these flowers!”
“I’m just doing my job!”
“You know what, say that again, I really will break your nose,” Sam hisses, raising a fist. Dean takes the hand that was pressed up against Sam’s back to hold back the raised fist, frowning.
He really didn’t need this right now. “Listen, there must be a mistake,” he says calmly to the delivery man, just to get him away as fast as he can in case his brother decides to strike.
“There’s no mistake!”
Sammy lowers his fist, shakes off Dean’s hand, and says stonily serious for a man talking about flowery delights, “I did not order these flowers.”
The delivery man turns to Dean, ignoring the hulking brother. “It says here that you have to be here personally to accept them.” He tilts his clipboard to show Dean.
Dean points at himself. “Me?” He cracks a confused smile. “I have to be here? Well… that’s..." The realization strikes him suddenly, and instead of making him feel cold with worry, it warms him inside. Oh, no. (Oh, yes.)
The arguing duo ignores his silence in favour of continuing to yell at each other.
“I’m in charge of flowers!"
“I do what I’m told!”
“I warned you to stop saying that.”
“That’s not what I was saying before!"
“It’s a variation of-”
Dean waves them off and rushes to the front door of the Inn, takes a few deep breaths, and twists the knob. He could still hear their bickering, but he, in turn, ignores them. Of course, there’s a wedding to be prepped, but he’s sure that Charlie and Benny can handle it themselves.
He steps in and his mouth widens into a little o. His steps are slow, filled with awe, and he can't help but feel a wondrous happiness inside him.
“Daisies, no less,” he hears Sam say from somewhere next to him. The wedding was now no longer a priority in Dean’s mind. “As if I would order these things for the wedding. They’re literally a notch above weeds. And look at how many of them there are! There must be at least-”
“A thousand,” Dean says quietly. “A thousand yellow daisies.” If his voice cracks, Sammy doesn’t acknowledge it.
The flower man seems to have slipped in when they both weren’t paying attention. “Yup. There’s exactly a thousand- the order states that there has to be exactly one thousand of them. Not one thousand and one, not nine hundred and ninety-nine, but a thousand. You ask for a thousand? I bring a thousand.” His voice tinges with pride. “I don’t question the orders. I merely fill them.”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, a job well done, douchebag, but we didn’t order these.”
Dean continues to ignore them and circles around the flowers that surround the lobby of the Inn, every crook and nanny swarmed with the yellow daisies. He touches some gently, dragging his fingertips along the soft petals of one of the bouquets. He can feel his mouth drag up in an ear-splitting grin as he slowly counts the number of flowers in the room, and he figures that there really is a thousand after counting up to fifty- he didn’t really want to count them all.
Embarrassingly enough, he feels tears spring up into his eyes and his nose get leaky.
He finds the telephone at the front desk with some difficulty, sitting between masses of daisies, the smell almost intoxicating. He holds the phone to his ear after ringing up the familiar number with ease. After two rings, he picks up.
“I couldn’t find a horse,” Castiel Novak murmurs softly. His low, gravelly voice takes on a calming quality. “I tried to, believe me.”
“You didn’t need to- I was joking-”
“Don’t say anything. Please.” Dean stops spluttering, his eyes closing blissfully. “You were right last night. I shouldn’t have proposed to you like that. I mean…” There are sounds of movement as Castiel shifts the phone over to his other ear. “It was stupid. It was the wrong place, and the wrong time, and the entire night, I hated myself for doing it like that.” Dean nods, and he remembers that Cas couldn’t see him, so he mumbles an agreement.
“Yeah, you big doof.” There’s a shift of flowers as Sam sits next to him, looking worriedly at his older brother who’s on the verge of bursting into tears. Cas, Dean mouths, and Sam tilts his head in confusion.
Castiel chuckles, and the sound gives Dean a tingling feeling in his stomach. “I know, but you were wrong about something too.”
“I didn’t propose to you because we were fighting and I wanted to shut you up- I proposed because I love you.”
Dean’s heart skips at least three beats, he swears, at those three little words. God, he loves this man.
“We’re in a vicious cycle where we see each other, act like we love each other, then get into a fight and stay mad at each other until we see each other again. Dean, we have to break it. I hate doing it, and I want to stay in one where I get to love you every single day, hence, the marriage proposal.” Dean lets out a quiet laugh. “And I really don’t want to do that voluntary murder-suicide thing that you were talking about earlier, so I think I took the best course of action. You tell me to give you a thousand yellow daisies and ride on a horse into the Inn? I’ll do it.”
“Cas-” Dean breaks off, his voice getting dangerously croaky.
“No. Listen to me Dean, I woke up this morning, and I realized that as a literacy teacher, I have read countless stories that are filled with characters that let amazing opportunities just slip by them. But I’d like to think that I teach more than just stories- I teach lessons in life.” There’s a silence, and the only thing that could be heard was Dean’s sniffling. How unmanly of himself, he thinks. “I’m not the man I was, or the man I want to be.”
“God,” Dean chokes out. “You sweet-talker.”
Castiel chuckles again. “I don’t need an answer now, Dean. I’ve thought long and hard about this without any sleep, and I want you to do the same. Well, I want you to sleep, but I also want you to think about it.” He doesn’t hesitate before saying, “I love you, Dean Winchester. It may be the gayest thing on this world at the moment, but it’s true. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah, you freaking will.”
“Talk to you then, Dean.”
He hangs up, and Dean’s left holding the phone loosely in his hand and Sam’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. When did that happen?
Sammy sighs, and signs the papers that the delivery man wordlessly gives to him with a pen. “Did he break up with you?”
“No,” Dean replies softly. “He did the exact opposite.”