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Dean was rummaging through his drawer for a clean pair of boxers when he found the first one. His left hand was deep inside the pile as he suddenly felt a stinging pain at the end of his finger, causing him to draw his arm back. There was a drop of blood trailing down towards his wrist. He sucked the digit into is mouth to ease the pain and used the other hand to get whatever he hurt his finger at. Without stinging himself this time, he pulled a rose out of the drawer.
It was slim and still fresh, the dark red petals stood in contrast against his skin. Its stem was merely snapped and not a single one of the thorns was loose.
Even though Dean wondered why the angel had thought it would be a good idea to put a rose into his sock drawer, he couldn't help but smile at the romantic - though very chick-flick like - gesture. Castiel had always been a sap when it came to the romantic dimensions of their relationship. Dean didn't mind very much, but would never admit that to anyone. He liked the flowers and the candlelight dinners and the feeling of someone caring and watching out for him. He might even go as far to say that he loved it.
He definitely loved Cas for being so thoughtful and for a lot of other things. Like how he was the grumpiest morning person Dean ever met or the adorable nose scrunch he often did while thinking.
The way he teased Dean with keeping this rose thing to himself? Not so much.
It was that smug little grin Cas gave him, when he asked about the roses, shortly after founding one in a freaking cereal box, that had Dean wanting to find out Cas' plans immediately.
Dean tried hard, really hard, to make his boyfriend open up about the thing. Asked him if he had forgotten their anniversary (even though Dean was sure that he would never ever EVER forget that day) or if it was some kind of strange angel thing, Castiel considered funny. Cas wouldn't tell him, just grinning and giving him the occasional wink while saying: “Don't worry, Dean. You'll get behind it.”
Dean stopped trying after that, but the roses didn't stop of course. No, there were more. So much more.
To Dean it seemed like Cas had made it his challenge to leave them at the most random and unexpected places. Rolled up in his underwear, inside empty beer bottles in the kitchen, in the bathroom right next to his toothbrush, clamped behind Baby's wiper blades, inside his boots, tucked into his gun, and the list goes on. Sometimes he would find two or three at once and usually at least half a dozen a day.
Dean kept all of them and placed them inside a glass vase on the dresser in their shared room. It occurred to him that Cas must had them manipulated with his grace since they didn't wither at all. They looked right out of the garden whenever Dean passed them or put another rose in. Castiel smiled proudly every single time he looked at them and even though Dean promised himself not to worry too much about their meaning, he couldn't help but wonder what this all was about.
It was the day when even Sam started to notice and approached Dean to ask about a rose he had found taped to a book in the bunker's library, when Dean couldn't contain himself anymore.
“Seriously?!” Dean took the flower from Sam and rubbed the back of his neck. “What is he planning with all the freaking roses?”
“You got any more?” Sam asked surprised.
Dean threw his hands into the air in a meaningful manner. “Dozens! I'm in the hundreds by now! He hides them at the most ridiculous places.”
Sam chuckled. “You know that has a meaning, right?”
“Yeah, eternal love and all that crap. I mean it's kinda cute and they smell really good, but honestly Sam, I'm not some teenage chick.” Dean sighed.
“That's not what I meant, Dean, but hey. I'll let you figure this one out on your own. I'm sure you'll get it soon.” With these words, he patted Dean on his shoulder and left for his room.
Dean was about to lose his mind and he rushed to his room, where he assumed he would find the angel and finally get an answer out of him.
Their room was empty and Dean was about to turn back when he saw a single rose right in the middle of their bed. Something was out of the picture this time though. All of the other roses had been different shades of red, from dark wine to a light coral, but this one. This one was a creamy white. Nearly not distinguishable from the plane white sheets.
It had a note on it. A small piece of paper with hand written numbers. Dean recognized Cas' handwriting immediately.
108
Nothing more. That's all what it said and it made Dean's brows come down in a frown.
“What the hell?” He asked to himself.
He decided it was time to finally get behind it and without bothering to ask Sam on this, Dean turned on the laptop on his desk. His fingers ran over the keyboard and his eyes wandered to the white rose, now laying beside him. Google suggested thousands of sides about the meaning of roses and he bluntly clicked the first link.
It said something about the meaning of the colors, where the romantic ideal of roses originated and finally, nearly at the bottom of the page, offered an explanation about the numbers of roses.
Dean scrolled past the numbers, not at all surprised when he indeed found the three digits, that Cas had also written on the note.
108 roses: Proposal for marriage
Dean's brain went on a total breakdown when his eyes traced the words over and over without really processing their meaning.
He heard a rustling behind him and got up from his chair to turn around. Castiel had gotten rid of the coat so he was only wearing the suit, one arm behind his back and his eyes locked with Dean's. He seemed tense and it was when Dean noticed the shared look of nervousness on both their faces.
“Cas-” Dean croaked out, but Castiel didn't let him finish.
“In different parts of the world it is a known gesture to present the loved one with 108 roses when asking for their hand in marriage. I sort of liked the idea when I decided to...to.” He started to stammer and forced to calm himself down a bit and inhaled deeply. With one step he moved closer to Dean, whose heartbeat was pounding in his ears.
“I love you, Dean. With all my heart. I know that I want to be with you forever and that I would give anything for you.” He dropped down on one knee, presenting a velvet box, containing a simple silver band to Dean.
“Dean Winchester, would you marry me?”
It took Dean approximately half a second to grab the collar of Cas' neck, pull him up and dive into a ravaging kiss, before drawing back and peppering his angels' face with even more kisses, whispering a “yes” into his skin, every time his lips touched Cas' face.
Castiel was smiling widely and tears were stinging in the corner of his eyes. “I love you, Dean.”
“I love you too, Cas. So freaking much.” Dean rested their foreheads together, letting out a loud laugh. He wanted to make a jump out of happiness and maybe he would just do that. Or he would just jump his boyfriend. No, his fiancé.
He wrapped both arms tightly around Cas and hid his face in the crook of the angel's neck.
“You know what that calls for, Cas?” He asked smugly and started to kiss Cas' neck.
“Telling your brother that you're soon going to marry the love of your life?” Cas answered without missing a beat.
Dean snorted, but shook his head slightly. “Engagement sex.”
Castiel chuckled and brought his hands up to undo his tie.
“You're right.” He said. “Telling Sam can wait. This moment belongs to us right now.”
Dean rose his head to press another kiss to Cas' lips, gentle but determined.
“So does eternity.”