He's not perfect- that much you know. Every one of his faults is laid bare before you if you care to look. And yet, each time you see him you cannot help but marvel at this creature. So inherently flawed, and the only word to describe him is the precise thing he shouldn't be.
Perfect.
You know him better than he knows himself; after all, it was you who remade him, who took his brilliant soul and gave him a body to match. When you study him now, you see your own handiwork. The tiny flaws you smoothed over, the things Dean, himself was never aware of, now gone. Those emerald eyes that flash with mirth and fury, and occasionally something like fear. That smile that has no right to make your vessel's heart beat fast.
Perfect.
In a way, your entire existence has been leading up to him. You were destined to guard him, shield him from harm. Oftentimes you fail in that mandate, yet still he regards you as a friend. So when he frees you from Naomi's influence, it is only natural for you to embrace him. And it seems a natural progression for him to gently press his lips to yours.
Perfect.
Not a word for how Dean acts, but a word for who Dean is.