Chapter Text
…Castiel was an angel.
He really was. Dean watched him walk around the shelter, discreet and efficient, as ever. He was never the one asked for PR, never directly praised for all the hard work the volunteers were doing for the community. In fact, he had looked nonplussed when Dean had complained about it.
“The point of what I do is to lessen someone's suffering, not make myself look good. Surely, you, of all people, can appreciate that. You told me of those people in your life who were there for you, in time of crisis. Did they ever get a medal for doing so?”
“No... not medals, but, just a thanks would do. I mean, even at home, your brothers and sisters don't even know you work here.”
Castiel moved on the battered couch in the meeting room, putting his head on Dean's shoulder with a sigh.
“Even if they did, I doubt it would interest them. I am not saying they cannot be generous, but they are not hands-on. I think my mother would have approved, though.”
That shut Dean up. Their eyes met in a silent acknowledgment of something else they had in common. He kissed Castiel and they cuddled for a few minutes, until he had to leave for his shift.
He pushed the back door with a last look at his fiancé, his smile growing stupidly when the light caught on the ring. It wasn't even gold and yet Castiel had never taken it off, since that day. And he had looked so happy.
Of course, meeting the family had been a pain in the ass. Dean still looked and acted like a kid who had grown up in a car. Apparently, he said all the wrong things, in the wrong tone, and they were some hidden expectations he wasn't meeting. Castiel liked his impulsivity and his optimism, he said that Dean was alive, like no one else. Dean wasn't going to change to please them, plus he hated how they looked down on him for working in a garage. None of them would ever have to work for a living, and they looked down on him just because of that. Who was really useless in that scenario?
Selfish assholes, the lot of them.
Expect Cas, of course.