new chap.

36

Take Me to Church

A knock at the door drew Dean's attention. "Come in!"

Sam walked through wearing a big grin, arms extended. "You ready?"

Snorting, Dean trampled over piles of clothes on his floor and made headway towards the closet—half ransacked. He was wearing dress pants, which were a little bit tight, and no shirt.

"Need some help?" his brother asked, deftly tiptoeing around mounds of fabric.

"I need a shirt and a tie…but all I have is fed clothes that don't really fit me all that well anymore. Fuck, I think I've put on like fifteen pounds in the last few months. And before you say anything—I don't really care, I don't! But we'll be on cases soon anyway, I need new clothes."

"Hey," Sam grabbed his shoulder since he'd been pacing. "Hold up. You bought that gray shirt two years ago that was too big, 'member? Probably still here somewhere. We just gotta find it."

Dean nodded and yanked off the belt he had on. It wasn't right. He found another and put that on.

A shirt was flung at his face, "Here, that one."

"Thanks, Sammy." He stuck his arms through the sleeves, and yeah this fit better. It wasn't the nicest…but it would do.

As Sam sat on his bed, waiting for him to be ready, Dean could tell a brotherly conversation of sorts was in the works. He was tying his tie when Sam finally spoke up.

"I wish mom were here."

Dean froze pulling the last loop over the front. He dropped his head, an image of her sprung to his mind. As always the memory was not without full senses; her always-warm hands when she would help him get dressed in the mornings, or get ready for bed. The loving smile she saved for him that was different than the one she gave their dad.

It amazed him how much it could still hurt. "Yeah." He huffed as a thought made itself known. "Wanna know something funny?"

"What?" asked Sam.

"I used to have this god-awful ceramic angel figurine in my bedroom as a kid. I asked mom once, cause ya know, it wasn't a cool thing to have as a little boy—not exactly an action figure. She just looked at me and said, 'Angels are watching over you sweetie.'"

Looking at his brother through the mirror, he saw the flash of pained jealousy. It was a sad reality that Dean had memories of her, and Sam didn't. At least not the way he did.

"She was right," said Sam.

"Guess so. Though, somehow, I doubt this was how she meant."

Sam laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I still can't believe that this is happening. I mean, you marrying Cas… It's great, man. Really."

"What can I say, I kinda like knowing that in some formal capacity he's stuck with me. I suppose that's selfish, but ya' know, I really don't give a shit."

Finally, he looked in the mirror. It was the same look as any other day. Even more now that his hair was styled the way he used to do it. He even ran over his beard a little with the electric razor, not too close, but enough that he was presentable. Dean decided not to tell anyone that the sound of the razor buzzing had nearly made him pass the fuck out. The suit was a run-of-the-mill Fed suit. Crappy fabric, crappy fit.

"God, he's an idiot." Dean said to himself.

Chuckling, Sam walked over. "Nah. Well…maybe a little." And they both laughed, heading out to leave.

For Dean's sanity, Cas poofed the four of them there, not wanting a long-ass drive to kill the vibe. Dean decided unanimously that Crowley was not invited. That being said, leaving him alone in the bunker for a bit didn't exactly sit well with any of them.

That was only one level of Dean's discomfort. The whole wedding thing was making him wildly twitchy: the formality of it, the processes, wanting it to be legal meant going in with Cas' fake ID, and they couldn't very well give him Winchester as the last name on that one, so they had to make one up, and Dean and Sam's nomad life with multiple false identities seemed to weigh on him now, having to figure out what the goddamn hell to write on application forms. Sure, yeah, the basics were there, but what the hell do they give as an address?

Vegas was supposed to be, ya know, lickity-split style weddings. Why the papers? Sam glared at him. "You need a license to get married."

"That's stupid. Hey Cas," he called over, "we know God personally, let's just make him do it."

Cas made a strange face and turned back to his conversation with Jody.

"Cas look nervous to you?" Dean asked Sam, bouncing his legs in his plastic seat outside the overdone god-awful chapel just beyond the main strip.

"No. But you sure as hell do. Everything okay?"

"Yeah." No.

"Dean," Sam pulled out the 'I'm-serious-Dean' voice.

Groaning, he gestured around them. "It's soooo…eeeehk! Ya know?"

"Hey, at least we found a part of town not overrun with lessers."

"Yeah, but, Sammy, there's a disco ball. I mean, fuck, this looks like something Gabriel would dream up."

Sam nodded, smiling. "Agree with you there. We're low on options. Listen, I'll finish filling this out, she said it's like a ten minute wait. Go talk to Cas. And relax."

Dean hopped up and briskly walked over, grabbing Cas by the elbow. "Can I steal you for a minute?"

Whatever conversation Jody and Cas had been having was a serious one, because before they drifted apart she squeezed Cas' arm as if offering comfort. Great. Dean could just imagine what had been said. Like, sorry you're gonna be stuck with that psychologically demented loser.

"What's wrong?" Cas eyes went wide, taking in the hyper expression on Dean's face.

Dragging Cas behind him, Dean found a vacant closet full of decorations down the hall. He closed them into it—taking note of the comedic value there—and pulled Cas to him. He devoured the angel's mouth, finding the calm he knew he'd find in that slick, giving space.

They bumped back against some boxes, and the laughter that followed was goddamn sweet relief. "Ok, this is what I needed." Dean slumped, his shoulders finally relaxing as his arms worked tighter around Cas' body.

"So everything is okay? You're not…not having—

"No!" Dean smushed his lips hard against Cas' to make his point. "Not at all. Promise."

Castiel's eyes darted away, awash with guilt. Dean didn't get it until the angel began to speak.

"You might be if you knew the truth."

Dean went numb. This-this was not happening. "Cas, what are you talking about?"

Backing away from Dean, Castiel began to pace, his face full of conflict. Dread filled Dean's heart, making the organ feel thick and useless. Christ, it felt like he was trying to push sludge through his veins.

"Cas, you gotta talk to me…I'm kind of losin' it over here." As it was, Dean started to drift back towards anything that might hold him upright. The hard edges of shelving met his upper back and ass, and he reached back to hold onto the thing.

Facing away, Cas rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. When he spun back and looked up he asked, "Why did you ask me to marry you? I need to know."

Easy enough. "Because I love you." Why the fuck else would he want to marry Cas? It's not like Dean was gonna get any bene's on filing his taxes. Heck, none of them even file taxes to begin with!

"That I understand…but you loved me anyway. Why marry me?" asked Cas, his tone beseeching.

Dean thought on this for a long minute. "Because in the world I grew up in, rituals mean something. And not for the fucking government or for God, but it means something to me, and hopefully to you. This is me wanting more than the way we sort of fell together, I want the literal promise of forever. Take away all this," he indicated towards the gross over-commercialized concept of weddings, "and it's basic… It's me wanting to be with you…forever. And after everything I've put you through over the years—the last eight months being the worst of it—I need to prove to you and myself that I can be more than what I was. Not just having a life outside of hunting, because honestly, I don't want to marry you and then live in suburbia and work some nine-to-five life, that ain't me. And I know that ain't you. You're what makes me happy Cas, and goddamn it, yeah, I want to make that official. Sue me, alright?"

Through his whole speech, Cas said nothing. Not reacting to a single word spoken.

"Dean, I want you to remember something. I want you to know that you're what matters to me."

He squinted, hearing the undefinable tone in Cas' voice. Stiffly, nervously, he said, "Okay."

Before heading back out, Dean felt that something was stuck between them, like grimy glass obscuring the outdoors. "Are we okay?" he had to ask. God, such a shitty thing to have to ask on their fucking wedding day.

Stretching up, Castiel gently pressed their lips together, his eyes closing softly. They breathed in through the kiss, a tender gesture to assure Dean everything was fine, or that it would be.

Even though he trusted Cas, Dean still dreaded heading back out there, hating that getting married had become all about the hoopla of it, and not about two people that loved each other and wanted to be something greater to each other, to formally promise to the one you loved that you were fucking in this. Come what may: Heaven, hell, nightmares, monsters, old-age, fucking erectile dysfunction! It didn't matter. Castiel had come barreling into his life, and nothing had really been the same since. And, now, after what had happened, nothing would ever be the same again. But at least, in promising forever, they'd found a way to exist in this horrific world and be happy.

The actual affair of it was quick and to the point, much to Dean's relief.

Catching him by surprise, Cas produced a ring for him. It wasn't the time to ask where it had come from, but judging by the texture and gleam, he suspected Cas had somehow melted down an angel blade.

Dimly, he wondered if he could punch angels in the face with it. That would be awesome. A nice wedding band, AND a badass weapon. The token fermented his decision that marrying Cas was the best choice he'd ever made—despite the patches of secrets that were still stuck between them. Like rocks in a shoe, those would get kicked out eventually and they'd be smooth sailing. Where the trust and faith came from, Dean didn't know. Dammit, he was bordering on being proud of himself.

Dean barely heard the officiants babble. Instead, he found every sense he had was tuned in only to Cas. The second the ring was pushed onto his finger, he saw Cas glancing down, his eyes narrowing as an intriguing thought seemed to pass by. Dean wondered what he was thinking. Obviously not the time to ask, Dean filed the moment away for later.

Despite his reservations and former anxiety, their quirky hasty 'I-Do's' would become a memory he'd draw on for the rest of his life, though he hadn't known it at the time.

Truth be told, in the moment, he just wanted Cas to be his. It had nothing to do with a piece of paper really, but in knowing that this was The Act—the ritual among human beings that defined a choice. In many ways, it was as much for himself as it was for them—something to prove he was more than a brute hunter who'd never cared for more than a quick lay.

"...and by your expressions, I'm sure I don't need to tell you twice, you may kiss your husband." Dean smirked; damn right he didn't need to be told twice.

The instant before their lips met, Dean hadn't expected to feel anything more than some modest joy from the kiss. But damn was he wrong.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was like someone had dropped a lit match into his heart—chambers full of gasoline. He'd never admit it to anyone other than Cas how insanely happy he was in that moment. As a result, he went overboard with the kiss, dipping in some tongue, squeezing Cas hard against him. There may have been a little moan, too. Not a dirty one, mind you, just a really fucking delighted one.

The first Dean knew something was off was the moment they broke away, cheeks flushed, their smiles simultaneously dropped from a wide grin to a grimace. There was a palpable static in the air. And not the kind of electricity that came from taking a lick inside Cas' mouth.

Something had happened.

And by the look on everyone else's faces, including the stumped officiant, they'd all felt it too.

"What the hell was that?" he asked.

With a smirk, Sam turned pointedly to Cas. Jody smiled softly, turning slyly away from Dean's penetrating stare.

A sudden prickly feeling at the back of his neck had Dean whipping around to the empty rows on the left. On what would be the "bride" side, sat motherfucking Chuck, known to many disgruntled angels as God. Before Dean could ask what the goddamn hell was going on, the room froze.

Literally.

The pudgy officiant, both Sam and Jody, their expressions—hopefully temporarily—preserved in a creepy stillness. The only moveable pieces were himself, Cas, and God.

"You've got to be kidding me! Whatever you want, asshole, I really, really don't give a shit right now. You can take your bullshit and shove it back up where it belongs."

To his right, Cas stared but kept silent; his expression unreadable.

Chuck raised his hands in surrender. "Not here to ask anything of you, Dean. I'm here to congratulate you." God's focus ended on Cas. "I'm proud of you, Castiel."

Dean caught his new hubby clenching his teeth from the corner of his eye.

"You should go," Cas gritted out.

"I didn't mean to disrupt. I came to remind you that good things do happen."

"No thanks to you."

Chuck sighed. It was a mystery that this unassuming dude was God. Dean still didn't want to believe it. But he'd been up there in Heaven and felt it for himself.

"I wish you both unfettered, happy lives. I shall no longer have a part in it. Castiel, I know you don't plan to return to Heaven and I respect that. I fear the time has come for me to fully return. There's change in the world to come… Good change. I'm sure of that now."

He smiled at both of them, an sincere and honest expression if Dean had ever seen one. The image of Chuck gradually disappeared, and with a snap, everyone came back to life as if nothing at all had happened. The moment carrying on instantaneously with only Cas and Dean being aware of its interruption.

Dean looked at his angelic, newly-dubbed spouse. "What the hell was that all about? Pretty sure good ol' Daddy-Deity could've sent a fucking card."

"Do you still trust me?" was all Castiel asked in return.

"I just married you, so yeah looks like it. But my god, never make us hang with your family, cause that is soooo not happening."

"Umm, well, actually…Heaven has been repaired. The souls now have a final resting place not to be corrupted by the Omega any longer."

What? "How? I thought I had to do something." Dean demanded, confused. The minister on his right was eyeing them all with a heavy amount of suspicion.

Sam snickered from behind, slapping Dean on the back. "You just did, Dean."

What the fuck? "I'm so confused right now. Will someone please tell me what the goddamn fuck is going on?"

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you didn't swear in my church." The officiant spoke after having been quieted and perplexed by their odd banter for the last few minutes.

Church?! Dean pegged the guy with a look. "First of all, buddy, floating red hearts, a cross made of ribbons and a disco ball do not a church make. Second of all, you three, spill!"

Cas assertively met his eyes. "You, um, kind of had to marry me."

Nope, that can't be right, was Dean's first thought. "I'm not buyin' that hallmark crap, next theory?"

"It's not a theory Dean, I'm serious." Castiel said this with a frown.

Dean repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, each time thinking words would come, but they didn't. Sam and Jody came up on either side of him, they each wrapped an arm around him. Both of them were all smiles and it made him mad.

"He's right, Dean. Sam didn't believe it at first either," Jody said.

"I'm a little out of touch with my reopening of Heaven lore. Where exactly does it say that me marrying Cas is the cure-all for Metatron's spell?" he asked acidly. This was supposed to be a happy day, and now he was surrounded in this hideous place and bombarded with endless confusion.

Ignoring his question, Cas reached past Dean to zap Sam and Jody, presumably, back to the bunker.

The poof action made the officiant squawk. Castiel glanced once at the man, who looked near ready to piss himself. Sighing irritably, Cas touched a finger to the dude's head, dropping him to the ground.

"I hope he's sleeping, or we need to have a serious discussion about how you deal with annoying people."

Making a face at his comment, Cas moved in towards him and extended his hand, his expression turning serious, but mostly guarded. Dean suspected answers would follow if he took that hand. Standing there, dimly wondering how the hell getting married in some shithole in Vegas could have any relation whatsoever to Heaven, he realized he didn't care.

It still didn't make sense to him. Dean understood the Heavenly Host wanting to use him for their own means, plaguing his life consistently with negativity and near-death apocalypses, but this—right now—was good. Loving Cas was a good thing! And over-thinking that would be taking away from the greatness of it. So, yeah—Fuck it. Dean decided not to give a shit.

Reaching out, he slipped his fingers into Cas' hand, meeting blue eyes.

"This is what matters right?"

The answering smile built up, starting with a twitch and ending with crinkles at the corners of Cas' eyes.

"Nothing else…" the angel agreed.