"We're getting married in a couple days."

"We are?"

You narrowed your eyes at your fiancé's sarcastic response. The typical rueful grin came to his face at your look, making him appear years younger, and entirely nonthreatening. Taking it a step further, you kicked at him lightly, your foot making contact with his thigh. You were settled back against the arm of the couch, taking up one cushion, as Dean was seated on the next cushion, leaned back and legs wide.

"Hey! Be nice," he demanded at your action. You pushed harder at this leg, grinning. "I'll leave you at the altar if you keep it up darlin'."

"Liar," you called his bluff.

Having been with Dean for over four years, engaged for one, you knew him. There was no chance he was going to leave you at the altar. When he had proposed, everyone had cracked comments about 'the big bad Ambrose settling down' and 'changing his ways'. What most didn't know, was the Dean you knew. Had it been a surprise when he had done it? Of course. That was the point. But had it been a surprise it happened at all? Not in the least.

Dean and you had made yourselves a good life together over the years. There was a genuine compatibility and trust and understanding. You truly felt like you'd met your person and there was no one else you'd rather make mistakes and go on adventures with.

But, you also knew Dean was…unique, to say the least.

"Any last minute things I should know before I legally get stuck with you?"

"The diamond in your engagement ring is fake," Dean answered fluidly. "Stole it from a gift shop in Albuquerque. It might actually just be candy."

"Don't get my hopes up," you replied, glancing down at the shimmering jewel on your finger. "I'm freaking starving right now."

He went silent, causing your eyes to come back to his. You found him gazing at you, his eyes searching yours. He seemed almost awed in his appraisal of you.

"….what?"

"You are the coolest woman in the world," Dean declared. "I'm not a big fate guy, but you…you were fate for me."

If there was a stronger word for 'swoon', that was what you were doing. By no means were you marrying a big romantic in Dean, but damn if he didn't try to make sure you knew you were loved in whatever ways he could. You were pretty sure you'd never get used to his methods. And you kind of liked it that way. You didn't need big gestures on the regular to know what you meant to him. You liked the random, causal moments so much more. They felt more real, more sincere. The spontaneity of his declaration made you know he meant it.

"That was the sweetest," you stated, leaning forward indicating to him to meet you in a kiss, which he did.

"I'm gonna put that in my vows," Dean decided, almost proudly, as he sat back.

"…YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN YOUR VOWS YET?!"

The rueful grin returned to Dean's face, and you kicked at him again, causing him to laugh and try to swat you away.

"Go! Go write them right now," you demanded, pointing out of the living room.

"Woman, it's fine. I've got time," he argued.

"I swear to God, Dean…if you wait until the morning of…."

"I'm going to. Because then I won't have to correct them or overthink or anything. They'll just be honest and real and good to go."

"You think that, but you're gonna be wrong."

"Just…trust me, alright? I got this."

In your head, you made a note to add 'be patient with your ridiculousness' to your own vows.