Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam, Bobby, Gabriel (Becky, Chuck, Michael mentions...)
Warnings: Language and some realistic social situations? That being said, I don't know what kids are like in South Dakota.
Spoilers: Don't think so.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except a copy of the S4 DVDs.
Summary: Dean is getting married. To Cas. Sam is thrilled.
Author's Note: As usual bubbles83 and fledmusic "encouraged" me to write this. Which means I was skimming through fledmusic's comments on an entry and saw them talking about this situation and then saw them talking about how they hoped I would write this. And I did, ha. (All ~3000 words of it.) So this is crack with some angst and hopefully a redeeming amount of fluff. Not beta'd because I decided that I didn't want to sit on it anymore. There are some things I'm hesitant about, but, well. I'm impatient.
This quote pretty much describes the fic and is taken from Brian Andreas. "feels like some kind of ride but it's turning out just to be life going absolutely perfectly"
At the moment, Dean would love to shove Sam, Bobby, and Cas into the Impala and drive to Vermont or Vegas (probably Vegas because it's closer) and just fucking elope before dawn because he just cannot take it any more. And, really, Dean knows better than rushing the process because Sam would insist on taking pictures with the Elvis impersonator and these pants are not in any shape to be worn for wedding pictures.
Dean hates that he thought that in his own tone of voice, not the pleading whine Sam's taken on when trying to get Dean to agree to pre-marital counseling or something.
"So?" said the Sasquatch asks, almost as if he can see Dean's thoughts wandering from the task at hand. Normally Dean is pretty awesome at getting things done when they need to be done, but whoever thought that buttermilk or cream, or matching or complementary ties would hold his attention was not smoking anything good.
It was probably Bobby punishing him for dragging his boyfr- his part- fian- the man-angel guy Dean is engaged to into town. Not to mention Sammy and his disturbingly large book of wedding plans, both of which probably could have stayed at Bobby’s ten minutes away for the night.
Fuck. Dean just wants to be married already, and isn't that the strangest thing he's thought since his Daddy told him that he hunted demons? It's new and weird and scary (not that Dean will ever admit that Cas is scary, not anymore, not since the Apocalypse ended in a flash of light and Dean saw Cas' wings for real), but it's what he wants.
Maybe the hardest part to deal with is accepting that he can have what he wants, which is messed up in so many ways.
"What do you like?" Dean asks Cas instead of answering. Cas is frowning over the choices like it really matters in the end, but glances up, easily meeting Dean's desperate look.
"That's not what I was asking," he deflects. "I want to know what you like."
Okay, the hardest part is not having Cas, it's having Cas care what Dean thinks.
So Dean sighs and stares at the blue and green swatches that will, somehow, match the dinnerware and tries to come up with an opinion. "I like the blue."
Sam groans in relief. "Finally." In one swift movement all evidence of a wedding is removed from the kitchen table, and Sam tucks a last piece of paper into the binder. "I'll let them know what you picked tomorrow," then he mutters something about flowers and leaves the kitchen.
Dean spares a second to snicker at the image of Sammy arranging flowers and catching a bouquet before turning in his seat to face Cas. "Do you like the blue?" Cas gets that half grin that always makes Dean want to kiss him. Tonight, 12:01 AM or so the oven clock says, is no exception, and he figures if hours of color and music choices can't nip that impulse in the bud, he and Cas will be more than fine.
When Dean pulls away, Cas answers, "Yes, Dean," and that's good enough for now.
With a nod, Dean stands, slowly stretching out the muscles in his back. "You coming to bed?"
There's a second of hesitation and a thoughtful look before Cas responds, and Dean knows he's a lost cause. "I need to talk Sam about the harpist."
Honestly, Dean would be jealous of the amount of time Cas spends running plans by Sam if the man-angel didn't crawl into bed and cling to Dean with octopus arms every night.
On Dean's Top 10 Things to Get Used To is having a house. As in, a home for Cas and him. One he can eat and fuck in, and actually come back to on a regular basis. Having somewhere to be tied to isn't as strange as being tied to one person in a romantic way, but it's a close third.
Number One is accepting that he deserves the things that he wants.
But Number Four also deals with the home and with a process Sam has started jokingly calling "nesting." It basically means that Cas has found some hidden Martha Stewart personality trait and has been bamfing up the house for a while. Okay, more like months, but there was no way Dean was going to move in without a comfortable mattress, and Cas wouldn't move in unless they had nightstands and ten thousand thread count sheets.
Sam has missed, for the most part, Dean's contributions to the decorating, which is something Dean thanks God for regularly in a slightly blasphemous manner, though much of Dean's time has been spent fixing up the wiring and the sinks. Unfortunately that doesn't stop the pipes in the kitchen from leaking three weeks before the wedding.
He's shut off the water pressure, but fat, mocking drops keep hitting his face and his neck like some domesticated form of Chinese water torture and it's starting to piss him off. This means, Dean is learning, that he needs to talk to someone that actually understands what happens when the hot water is turned on.
"Hey, Cas?" he calls, shifting from under the pipes and putting a bucket in his place to prevent water damage. (It's almost an unconscious movement, which means Cas has finally drilled it into him. But Dean never said he wanted to live with mold, so it's all good.) He steps out of the kitchen and veers towards one of the smaller rooms off the living area that they're calling the study. "The study" is more like Cas' library/workspace/cave and, sure enough, it's where Dean finds him, flipping through the pages of his wedding book and checking something off a list.
"Yes?" Cas pauses with a finger holding his place and turns brilliant eyes on Dean. That stare still feels like a punch to the gut sometimes; they're not losing any of their intensity or eye contact as they march towards marriage.
"I need to run to the hardware store to get some advice, but I think I can fix the sink."
"I'll go with you," Cas says, "we need to find another lamp for the bedroom."
The trip to the store is quiet. The Impala's rumbling is a welcome background noise as Dean fiddles with the tape deck, and half way there Cas reaches over to free Dean's hand from an ancient Zeppelin tape. Cas’ eyes never leave his list.
There's a good chance Dean could get a restraining order against Becky if he really wanted to. That she gets all her information directly from a Prophet of the Lord could change the minds of the police, but he really doesn't think it would. Chuck is weird enough that they'd probably throw his name on the official slip of paper, too.
"I just got the invitation to your wedding!," Becky squeals through the phone. "Or I'll get it in the mail today, but congratulations!"
"Wouldn't you rather talk to Sam?" he grumbles, but adds an even quieter "thanks."
"No, Chuck just told me that you're having trouble writing your vows and I wanted to tell you that I've read them and they're so perfect."
"And you can't just tell me them and save me the trouble?"
"Dean," she scolds, "no! It'll be much more rewarding if you come up with them yourself."
Dean sighs and hands her off to Sam anyway.
His vows have become A Thing for Sam because, for whatever reason, it's like Sam wants to make up for Dean's lost childhood by giving him the best wedding on the planet.
"I just want to know what you're going to say," Sam says, keeping up with Dean's running speed easily. Stupid gigantic limbs.
Dean stops, sucking air into his lungs a little harder than he needed to last year. It's been a while since the group's last hunt and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not getting any younger. Sam stops next to him, friendly and concerned like a Labrador when its owner comes home late and forgets to go on a walk, but it's too much for Dean. He feels overwhelmed and claustrophobic and snaps, "No, Sam."
He jogs back to his house alone.
"Bobby, why am I doing this? What could possibly convince me to agree with them about the doves?" Dean squeezes his eyes shut and does not moan in a pitiful and drunken way into the tabletop. He knows why he said yes to the doves because it was his attempt to make up with Sam after the run yesterday afternoon. Still. Doves.
There's a heavy sigh, then the sound of something – whisky, if Dean knows anything about Bobby - being poured into a glass. "Did they ask you about your vows?"
"And have you written them?"
A muffled grumble is the only answer Dean can spare.
Bobby heaves another sigh, like it pains him to deal with Dean's inability to talk about his feelings in front of an audience and a preacher. Fuck.
"Do you love him?"
Dean raises his heard so fast the world spins and he scowls at the two Bobbys that are frowning at him. "Yes."
"That's all you have to say, idjit."
The drive to Vermont goes something like this - Gabriel uses his angel mojo to transport the flowers and plates and anything that will actually be used in the wedding, with the promise not to lose or break it. Dean wouldn't trust Gabe to do it, but the angel was the only calm person shaped being in the kitchen that wasn't somewhat worried about the eventual state of the hydrangeas because even Bobby frowned a little and Dean really didn't like how quiet Cas got when he thought about drooping petals.
So Gabe takes the flowers and Sam and Bobby take themselves, and Dean and Cas set out in the Impala.
Miles of road disappear in the rearview mirror as Dean thinks about Cas and love and his vows.
Two days until the weight of a ring settles on his finger and he feels nothing but warm.
He shouldn't be but is still surprised when he and Cas get to the inn and see exactly how many people are there for them. Cas told him that he talked to people on the hunt for God, it just never hit him in an "oh, Cas made friends" way. Cas is Dean's friend, his best friend, and a spark of jealousy rushes forward. Dean shoves it aside because he never wanted to isolate Cas and keep him locked away in a tower. And that's why Dean is getting married, or one of the reasons anyway; he wants everyone to know that Cas is off limits, that Dean himself is off limits.
Possessive sex after being groped in bars gets old very quickly when the jealous party means something more than a couple of fucks.
So when Cas introduces him to Richard Heyman from Naperville, Illinois, Dean smiles and remembers that Cas won't leave.
"Ever since I was little, I wanted a home. You know, white fence, a coupla' kids, a golden retriever. But it was the kind of thing that I thought I couldn't have and hell, I'm still shock that I can have a home. I never thought that I'd actually get to settle down, let alone find someone I liked well enough that would settle with me. And then you popped up and showed me that the things I want don't have to be some great dream and you settled before I had the chance to realize that you were there to stay. But you're still here and we have a house and we're getting married and it's more than I ever hoped for. And I love you.”
"I love you too, Dean."
Okay, he's married and standing under a tent in a field in a disturbingly comfortable suit and he's married.
Dean smiles for the thousandth time and Gabriel hands him a chocolate bar. "Hey, Dean."
"Hey, Gabe." Honestly, when Dean can't even manage to glower at the angel he knows something is very wrong. Or right, he thinks as he spots Cas across the tent, dancing with Claire. His face is starting to hurt from all the grinning.
"Look, as much as I hate to burst your bubble of newly wedded bliss, I wanted to give you your gift." Dean tears his eyes away from Jimmy cutting between his double and his daughter. "I just wanted to let you know that I've wiped your records clean and fixed some things. You can be Dean and Cas Winchester and no federal agents will drop by your house asking uncomfortable questions.
Dean can feel his mouth drop slightly. "Wow that's- Thank you."
Gabriel shrugs, clapping a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ah, it's nothing compared to what's coming, but it'll do for now. Anyway, I'm off to say sayonara to your hubby then I've got to meet Mike. He said something about a prophet and I wouldn't want to miss breaking a new one in."
His grin changes from almost feral to a more normal mocking as he approaches Cas and takes him aside. Dean watches as the archangel says something, waves off Cas' astonished grateful look, and vanishes in a blink.
Cas wanders to Dean's side looking stunned and pleased in his still very angel way. Really, Dean's not sure anyone else has noticed the way he's started practically glowing. "Everything alright?" Dean asks anyway.
Cas sounds gravelly and so goddamn happy that Dean can't help reaching out and grabbing his hand. The kiss that follows is all on Cas, though.
Salts n' burns in old historical towns are bitches. Someone is always poking around trying to prove that some dead Revolution era lieutenant is haunting the local bar, when it’s really a babysitter murdered by the wife of the husband she was cheating with. Dean normally doesn't have the time to settle into a case like that, well, he didn't until the Apocalypse ended. Now he and Cas have all the time in the world to drive to Virginia and dig up graves.
Surprisingly (not), it's nowhere near as romantic as it sounds. They get back to their inn at eleven and Dean is tired and disgusting. All he wants is a shower then sleep and is just turning to Cas to tell him so when he hears, "Are you two here for the protest, too?"
His face must show his confusion and irritation because the man - thirty something, blonde, and somehow making Dean's gaydar (the one he refuses to admit he has because, come on, Sam would never let it go) ping - continues. "The protest of the bill banning gay marriage?"
Honestly, Dean doesn't know what to say. It's been a long day and he's never been asked to protest before, let alone protest for something he still considers private.
Cas has fared a little better today, though, and he responds after a second. "We didn't know others were here for the protest."
The guy lights up. "Yeah, most of us are, actually. I'm Brian, by the way, sorry to just rush in and assault you." He holds his hand out and they shake it. "Anyway, we have a great group going if you wanted to join us. My partner Jim made signs, but we probably won't be close enough to be seen."
Cas tilts his head at Dean, letting him know that it's his choice. And, well, Brian's enthusiasm reminds him of Sam when he gets excited. He says, "Sure" knowing that there wasn't really a choice.
Brian beams at them at tells them that the bus leaves at nine.
The next day Cas talks to two women, Heidi and Joann, who met while searching for men at speed dating all the way to DC and throughout most of the day. Dean follows the conversation, but doesn't talk much, just taking everything in and staying close to Cas. At about one in the afternoon, the man Brian has been running around with all day, Jim, flops next to Dean on the ground. The first thing he says is, "You didn't think you were, did you?"
Glancing over, Dean can see that Jim is watching Brian wave a sign in the air. He shrugs, knowing that Jim will get it.
"Yeah," Jim sighs. "I didn't think so either, was afraid to admit it at first. And d’you know what happened? Brian came along and elbowed me in the ribs trying to get to class and my life has never been the same. I still can’t believe he gave me all of this."
They sit quietly for a while and Dean takes the time to watch Cas hold a sign and chat with Joann. He finally says, "I hear you."
By chance, Dean is the first one home one bright spring day. Cas is returning one of Bobby's books and talking to Sam about something academic and probably annoying and Dean is so fucking glad that he doesn’t have to see this.
This being the word "Fag" sprawled in dulled red pain across their house's siding.
Dean sits unmoving in the Impala for four seconds before walking calmly to the garage and picking up a paintbrush and the extra can of pain Cas was so sure they would need to color their house a light blue. It takes two coats before the word is hidden and he puts everything back the way it was and takes a shower, scrubbing his skin harder than he needs to get clean.
Cas, of course, comes home to see him step out of the bathroom, pink skinned and dripping on the carpet. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment and Dean presses a soft kiss to his lips in thanks.
He manages to keep his shit together until he's tucked into bed with Cas that night, under blankets that smell like them and home. He's not normally a huge cuddler, but he presses himself against Cas, cheek resting on Cas' chest and arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "Dean?" Cas murmurs sleepily, fingers running through his hair and down his back. Dean takes a shaky breath and says, "Love you."
The contented sound Cas makes doesn't make it better, but it does let Dean relax enough to sleep.
He thinks it was just a bunch of drunk kids because it doesn't happen again, but Dean tries to get home before Cas just in case.
On their fifth anniversary, Gabriel pops into their living room and steals a chip from Dean's lunch plate. "So," he says, grinning, "how do you like your present?"
Dean squints at him because what the fuck? but Cas reaches for the television remote, pressing the on button with shaking hands. A local newscaster flickers to life midsentence "- other news, today North Dakota's Legislative Assembly successfully voted to overthrow the Governor's veto on same-sex marriages -"
The man's voice drones on, but Dean stops hearing it, instead seeing how Castiel is torn between fucking beaming at Dean and thanking Gabriel. Realizing that Dean's doing almost the same thing, Dean starts, "Gabe, this was our other wedding-"
"Yeah, yeah." The archangel waves off the question and the thanks. "Now why don't you two crazy lovebirds fly off and make it official in the eyes of the backwards thinking state you idiots choose to live in. Honestly, even moving to Iowa would have saved us all trouble."
There’s a pause where Gabriel reaches for another chip and Dean and Cas make eye contact. In twenty minutes they’ve called Sam and Bobby and are piled in the car, headed off to city hall. It feels like life may be getting easier after all.