A/N: So I'm hoping I'm doing this whole author's note thing right, cos it was a bit confusing. Anywho, this is the first Destiel fic I've ever written, and it's admittedly pretty freakin cheesy. But it's an idea that I've had floating around in my head for a while, and I'm pretty content with the end result of finally writing it out. I might continue the story if I get the chance, but I'm not super sure yet. Let me know what you all think!

Edit, 13/11/13: I will definitely be adding onto this fic. The second part is already written and will be posted some time in the next week. All later parts will be posted at random intervals as I write them :).

Chapter 1 - Dean's Project

Castiel has always had a thing for photobooths. Ever since they got together, hell, ever since they were kids, Cas has dragged Dean into any photobooth they passed by. When they were younger it was only a once in a while thing. They usually spent their time running around the neighborhood or the local park instead of anywhere where the machines could be found. But Dean remembers how every year, whenever the state fair was on, Cas would always grab him by the wrist and bodily drag him to the photobooths, first thing. As they got older they stopped spending as much time together, but, every once in a while, they would hang out and catch a movie, and Dean would find himself squished in beside his friend on the bench of the photobooth outside of the cinema entrance.

They had drifted apart when they went off to separate colleges, but Dean had never been able to look at one of the boxy contraptions without being reminded of Cas. He never went in, though. His ex, Lisa, had even tried to pull him into one once at a friend's wedding, but it just wouldn't have felt right without his best friend.

When he and Cas had reconnected a few years after college – thanks to Sam urging Dean to stop being a grouchy old man and finally get on social media – Dean had been surprised to find that they were living less than an hour apart, Dean having moved to Palo Alto to be closer to Sam and Cas having found better job offers in San Francisco, and they had decided to meet up for coffee at an outdoor mall more or less halfway between their respective homes. After three hours sitting and getting reacquainted, chatting and laughing about anything and everything, they had emerged from the coffee shop and wandered around the mall, not quite ready to part ways, when they came across a photobooth. Cas spotted it first, his face lighting up in an all-too-familiar way. Dean thought it was almost comical how that look hadn't changed at all since the first time he'd seen it on nine-year-old Cas's face. Just like old times, he had found himself with Cas's iron grip around his wrist, being manhandled into the tiny space. He remembered there being a lot more room in these things when they were younger, but trying to fit two grown men onto a three-foot bench resulted in Cas all but sitting in Dean's lap. Once the machine started up, Cas had turned to Dean, as he always had, ready to ask what kind of faces they should make. Only then had the two men noticed just how close they were sitting, and Dean found himself in a horribly cliché chick flick moment as their first kiss was documented by the machine. But, as the camera went off in the background, bright flashes muted by the sensation of Cas's lips on his own, Dean had found himself unable to care.

He chuckles at the memory now as he reaches up to grab the shoebox he's kept hidden at the back of their shared closet. In the six years since then, he's lost count of how many times he's found himself crammed inside one of the tiny contraptions. Cas can't walk past one without stopping, grabbing Dean's wrist and giving him that same excited look; Dean still hasn't found a way to say no to that face. He doesn't know what Cas does with his halves of all the photostrips, but all of Dean's have found their way into this box. He's even got the ones from when they were kids. Some are a bit wrinkled, and most have faded over time, but he's still managed to keep each and every one. And, by now, there are hundreds. Dean smiles as he opens the lid. Yeah, he thinks to himself, these are gonna be perfect.

He takes the box with him into the spare room, setting it down next to the rest of his supplies. When they first moved in three years ago, they hadn't been able to decide what to do with the space. Dean had wanted a music room, and Cas had pushed for a library. But the books and records found their way onto the shelves that lined the living room walls, and the couple had been stumped as to what to do with their spare room after that. So, for the past few years, it had served more or less as storage. But Dean had moved all the junk they had kept in here into the garage yesterday. Cas had left the day before for New York to visit Gabriel, and Dean had seized the opportunity to get to work on a project he's been planning for a while now. He looks around the blank white walls of the room once more before opening the tub of wallpaper glue and picking up a brush.

Five hours later and he's got three walls covered. He had been smart enough to write the dates on the backs of each of the photostrips, so it had been fairly easy to paste them up on the walls in chronological order. The pictures of him and Cas as kids start by the door and they move around the room from there. He's arranged them in a long five-photostrip-wide stripe that winds its way along three walls room, going up and around the small window on the wall across from the door. The whole process so far probably would've taken him only two or three hours, but Dean's been distracted reminiscing. He runs a hand through his hair before picking up his glue brush and approaching the empty wall. This is so freaking cheesy, he thinks to himself, but, in for a penny right? He shakes his head, chuckling at what a sap he's become as he sticks the very last photostrip up on the wall.

Castiel lets out a long sigh as the shuttle pulls up outside the house he and Dean share. As much as he loves Gabriel, he's never been able to handle him for more than a few days at a time. So his week in New York had been exhausting. Plus, if he's honest, he's missed Dean and he's just so ready to be home. He can already feel himself starting to relax as he walks in the door. He kicks off his shoes and throws his keys onto the side table.

"Dean?" he calls out, shrugging out of his trenchcoat and hanging it in the hall closet.

"In the spare room!" comes the somewhat muted response.

Cas doesn't spare much thought as to why Dean would be in the hardly-used space, too impatient to see his boyfriend after their time apart. Leaving his bags in the entryway, he makes his way to the spare room and stops short in the doorway.

The first thing he notices is that there are candles everywhere. Enough so that the room is almost as brightly lit as the hallway he just came from. And then he catches sight of the newly decorated walls. Just as Dean knew he would, he starts to make his way around the room, looking at all of the photostrips that trigger memory after memory. He starts with the photos from their childhood. He and Dean, sunburnt by the summer sun, smiling toothily at the camera. Then there are the photos from middle school. He laughs outright at some of the photos that have clearly captured each of their awkward stages; one strip is particularly embarrassing, featuring Cas with shiny braces and Dean with a rather unfortunate haircut. There are fewer pictures from high school, and none from their college years. Cas stops for a moment in front of the photos from the day they were reunited, smiling to himself at the memory of their first kiss. As he wanders the room, he begins to tear up just a bit, overwhelmed by so many memories. Some of the strips are funny, he and Dean pulling ridiculous faces. Some are sweet, from important dates or anniversaries. Some of them even feature Sam sticking his head into the shot, unable to fit his enormous frame fully into the photobooth. Cas eventually finishes the third wall and turns to the fourth, empty save for one photostrip pasted dead center. He makes his way over to it, so focused that he doesn't hear Dean slip into the room behind him.

As he gets closer, he realizes this strip it completely unfamiliar to him. He's hurt for a second, that Dean had gone into a photobooth without him. He'd always thought of it as their thing. But then he realizes that the Dean in the photos has got something in his hands; he moves closer, squinting to make out the words on the papers photo-Dean is holding up. Each of the four pictures features a different word.

Hey

Babe,

Turn

Around.

Castiel follows the directions, turning around slowly, the suspicion of what this is all about finally creeping in. Sure enough, he turns to find Dean standing behind him. He's more dressed up than Cas has ever seen him, in a full perfectly tailored black suit. As Castiel turns, Dean slowly lowers himself down onto one knee.

"Cas," Dean says, and shit, he knows his voice is noticeably shaking at this point. He pauses, trying to calm his nerves, but it's an impossible task under the weight of his boyfriend's shocked gaze. He had a whole speech planned out, painstakingly written up and (embarrassingly enough) practiced in the bathroom mirror more times that he would ever admit, but that all flies out the window now, as he's not sure if he can speak past the lump in his throat that seems to be made up of entirely too many emotions – nervousness, excitement, joy, insecurity, love – all rolled into one. So he decides to cut to the important part.

"Will you marry me?"

Hours later, the candles in the spare room have long since gone out and the floor is scattered with their fallen clothing. They've finally made it to their bed and have been lying there in comfortable silence when something occurs to Cas. He whips around in his fiancé's arms, startling the other man, who had been seconds from sleep. As soon as they make eye contact, Dean lets out a low chuckle…he knows that look. He slowly extracts one of his arms from their tangle of limbs and reaches over to the bedside table, rummaging around in the drawer. When he turns back around he's got a glossy pamphlet in his hand, and in the darkness Cas can just make out the words "Photobooth Rentals."

"I already called, babe." Dean murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Cas's temple, "And yes, they do weddings."