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Castiel had never given much stock to the things the world seemed dead set on using as social currency. Charlie had explained aromantic to him and while it seemed to fit, Castiel just preferred to be Castiel. No labels or complications telling him which traits fit into a box that’s meant to make the way he feels easier for others to understand.
Dean understands him and he thinks that’s what matters most.
In all the years of friendship turned to gentle touches and eventually lifelong commitment, Dean never once questioned the way Castiel loved him. Logically, he knows it’s not the way Dean loves him and for a long time he was convinced that was unfair to the man who loves with his entire soul. But Dean never saw it that way. Dean never once seemed slighted or unhappy with what Castiel could give.
They just were. No labels, no expectations, just two wedding bands and an endless promise to stand by each other’s side.
Sure, being married and sharing a last name made it easier for people to reason with Castiel’s identity.
You must feel something if you’re married.
Truth is, Castiel just feels important, safe, and loved.
It took a long time for him to realize that— despite his innate inability to feel the butterflies and blush and overwhelmingly debilitating feelings everyone touts as the true key to happiness— he could be loved just as fiercely.
To his absolute astonishment, he is— by Dean.
Castiel does love Dean. It’s different— not romantic in the dozen roses kind of way, but it’s his.
When it comes down to it, Dean has never once so much as implied that it isn’t enough.
So why would Castiel believe it to be?
There’s moments where Castiel’s belief that he’s enough becomes further etched in stone— like it’s Dean’s eternal goal to convince him.
Castiel’s heart soars everytime he realizes it’s one of those moments as they’re happening.
Like right now, as Dean grabs Castiel’s hands still soapy from the dishes in the sink left half done and pulls him in close in the middle of their kitchen. They sway softly, Dean humming something that sounds suspiciously like the acoustic version of “I’ve Got You Babe” that Castiel sent him the day before. Cas sighs— content and safe. In response or just because, Dean kisses his temple. Not a moment later Castiel pulls their clasped hands close to leave a kiss of his own atop Dean’s knuckle.
He practically hears his husband smile.
It may not be love as described by the heavens. It may not be butterflies and nervous first dates, but it’s real and it’s messy and beautiful, and most importantly, it’s theirs.