A/N: Sorry for the late update. I wanted a reception worthy of the wedding. Anyways… here it is. Also, I won't be cutting you off without a warning. It's gonna happen soon, just not yet.
Shoutouts: to The Usual Suspects - Aliniah, BearB. and not-Misha. To everyone else who favourited, followed, reviewed this... and kept me going, you won't believe how much you guys mean to me.
P.S. The totally unnecessary description of wedding cake is because I had no intention of having a cake, but then I saw The One. I just a changed it a little, to suit the story.
The name of the wedding band was inspired by this statement: "Dick Roman and the Leviathans. Is it just me or does this sound like the name of a garage band?" Whoever wrote that is a friggin' genius!
Part 9
Their wedding cake was beautiful. It had three layers… the bottom two set up like steps, with fondant dolls depicting each member of the wedding party – a tiny Claire standing over a passed out drunk Adam, drunk Jo barely sitting upright in the corner, and a pregnant Jess, holding what looked like Dee, complete with her own miniscule version of a teddy bear, in the other corner and finally, Sam in the center, holding a fondant "bill" that almost stretched down to the table.
The topmost tier was separated from the rest of the cake by four golden posts and served as a platform for two grooms, the one with a little blue tie – Cas – stoically looking down at the one with a little green tie – Dean – lying on the ground, legs flailing, his little fondant wheelchair sitting upright behind him, a bottle of champagne lying close. To anyone looking, it would seem that the green groom had slipped off his wheelchair and passed out on the floor, drunk.
-x-X-x-
"I still can't believe you're showing up late at your own reception," Claire muttered, hurrying forward to help Dean out of the new rental car.
Jo and Bobby were safely keeping the Impala, with her newly attached roof carrier for his wheelchair, out of sight till they started on their honeymoon tomorrow. Dean had begrudgingly allowed for the modifications because they needed extra room in the back and trunk for their bags.
"It's not like anyone cares," Dean replied. "They are more than happy entertaining themselves," looking disdainfully at the guests, some on the makeshift dance floor… others helping themselves to whatever drinks and appetizers the waiters were carrying around, totally inconsiderate of the fact that the Hosts hadn't arrived yet.
-x-x-x-
Their reception wasn't "a reception" in the strictest sense of the term. They didn't really need one because, as Dean pointed out, their families… and the entire town… would already have "received and welcomed them" at the wedding.
So Dean, because he was the best thing Sioux Falls had seen since that Zombie Apocalypse of 1936, had decided that instead of a stuffy useless reception, the world would benefit more from a real, honest-to-god Dean Winchester party.
Of course, Sam, Jo and other people in their age bracket had been more than ecstatic, while those of their parents generation had shaken their heads in disbelief and turned 50 shades of grey… some even commenting that they had no idea Dean would get so pissed about the whole wedding thing… much to the fascination and amusement of everyone over 30, who had known Dean for less than 10 years. Including Cas. Especially Cas.
That is… until Sam explained that the Win-Collins parties were engrained into the Sioux Falls history, with almost 30% of the urban legends based around them. Gabe and Dean, the Hosts of Heaven, as they were called, had owned the Sioux Falls party circuit, from the day they became old enough to drive, to the day they left for Westpoint - Dean, the one with the craziest ideas, planned, and Gabe, the self proclaimed Trickster, executed. And more often than not, the parties ended, much to chagrin of the attendees, with an ambulance, a fire truck and at least two police cars unnecessarily crashing the latest site.
"What?" Sam asked, when Cas gaped at the idea of Major, his rational, half-insane Major, acting like that.
"He said he was rational… not crazy, impulsive…" he started, but stopped at the look that crossed Sam's face before he started laughing. "What?" he snapped.
"He said that!?" Sam asked ludicrously. "That he never did anything crazy?!"
Cas raked his brain. "Major did say something like "I don't rush in blindly"… I assumed…"
Sam nodded knowingly. "They didn't… Dean planned everything down to the last detail… taking everything about everything into consideration. Gabe listened to him and tweaked it up with his own unique brand of craziness. No changes of any kind could affect their perfect plans. Ever. That's why no one got hurt… or killed," he added proudly, then shut up when he caught Dean's eye.
Cas turned around to see what had suddenly stopped the verbal diarrhoea but only saw Dean ordering the volunteers. He turned back to Sam, eyebrows raised in question.
"It's just…" Sam lowered his voice and leaned in so close, to anyone seeing from afar it would seem that Sam was sniffing his neck. "In the field also they followed the same routine… it worked best for them. Even on the mission they got caught."
Cas leaned back and looked in Sam's eyes. They were ghosting with tears. "How would you know?" he asked curiously.
"The nightmares," Sam whispered. "He talked a lot… apologized a lot… I think they made him watch…" Cas turned to look at Dean who was happily ordering the volunteers about. "It was more losing Gabe than losing his legs that made him like this… We can't thank you enough for bringing him back to us…" he continued, not even bothering to cover his tears.
"Okay, Samantha, girl-time over," Dean interrupted them. "What are you talking about?" he asked suspiciously, seeing Sam's tear-stained face.
"Uh… I was telling him about the time you set the Kennedy's place on fire," Sam replied, forcing a smile into his voice.
"Hey!" Dean protested. "That wasn't me. It was Gabe," he fell silent "Oh, I miss the sneaky bastard." Then snickered. "Hey Sam, remember Groundhog Tuesday?" he asked poking his brother in the ribs.
Sam groaned. "I was 16 and you're so going to Hell for that," he muttered blushing and biting his lip, but it looked like he was trying to suppress a grin.
"What?" Cas asked intrigued.
"They killed Tuesdays for me," Sam whined while Dean only laughed, "Family secret. Only between brothers. Sorry. Not even Jess knows, it would be unfair if you did," he said winking. "C'mon, Sasquatch," he clapped his hands gleefully. "I need some help with the ball."
-x-
The planning was pretty much a smooth selling. Dean knew what he was doing, what he wanted and how to get it done – orders or complements… money or smiles – and trusted others to do what they were told. And the fact that everyone seemed to be hanging onto his every word, submitting themselves to his will, and scrambling to do his bidding, like obedient little slaves, made matters even easier.
Dean had the warehouse-cum-stable, where Jo had stashed the Impala, converted into a disco. The floor was cleaned, and transformed into a makeshift dance floor, complete with hardwood flooring. They found a huge 80s disco ball at the costume shop and installed it, along with a few disco lights to go with the décor. A temporary stage for the band, a temporary bar to deal with the increased traffic...
"Well… you could always have retro-theme disco parties here," Dean said, when Ellen grumbled that he was destroying her place with unnecessary modifications that would only have to be pulled down later. "Whadd'ya think, Ash?" And Ash "One Man Crusader To Bring Back The 80s With A Vengeance" Porter had practically died of happiness.
He had Cas, "who by the way is excellent cook himself. You should think about displaying his walnut-choconut brownies some time, they'll send your sales through the roof", choose the Hors d'oeuvres – pizza pinwheels, mini pigs-in-pokes (which had Dean going, "Hey, Sammy! Tuesday. Pig in a poke," which earned him a grunt and whine), a few types of kebabs, bacon wrapped shrimps – anything that could be eaten without too much fuss, since most of the crowd would be on the dance floor and wouldn't want sticky fingers in their partner's hair, or on the clothes.
Then he sat down with the band, Dick Roman and Leviathans, with Dick barely resisting the urge to sit in Dean's lap, and mapped out the playlist that suited both their sensibilities… head banging rock covers, mixed with hip shaking numbers and coupled with slow waltzes… officially proving that he was way more of a music geek than he would ever admit. When Celine, a singer, came into the picture and started feeling a little left out, Dean modified the list to include a couple of extremely sappy love songs "but none of that Celine Dion crap", because Balth, his new BFF – they had bonded over their mutual hatred of Titanic, while still appreciative of Winslet's rack – had warned him against it.
Everything had gone perfectly smoothly. That is… until they had returned home from the wedding bone tired, overslept and turned up more than an hour late for their own party.
It wasn't like they had planned to oversleep. It was Sam's job to wake them up in time, but after seeing them sleeping, curled around each other, limbs tangled, finally at peace – he could hear Dean through the walls, and he didn't think Cas would've been much better – he had just snapped a couple of pictures, and forwarded the best one to Dean's cell with a message "be there when you wake up", before quietly closing the door behind him. He had then forwarded the pictures to everyone he could think of, with the caption "Aww! They're sho ado…rable! *winky face*", so no one would disturb them.
And Cas, being the awesome husband that he was, had given Dean permission to murder Sam, "but wait until after the honeymoon. He's paying for it."
But the best thing about having Dean Winchester plan the event was that he took everything into consideration, and there were blanket instructions to start the party at 6.30, irrespective who did… or didn't… show up. Needless to say, it had started without them.
-x-x-x-
"Wait here," Claire said, "I'll tell them the hosts have finally arrived" gliding inside, as Cas bent down to fuss with Dean's collar.
Since this was a special occasion, Cas with a little help from Carmen and Celine, had teamed a white long sleeved t-shirt and black jeans with a semi-formal light grey blazer for Dean, and the same outfit in Navy blue with a black V-neck tee for himself. He pulled back his hands as Dean reached up to straighten his already perfect collar, and bestowed him with a kiss.
-x-
Claire walked up to the stage, where the band was quietly playing in the background, and whispered to the lead guitarist, Dick. Dick turned around to instruct his band, as she beckoned Celine from the crowd. The drummer, Edgar, tapped his sticks to count the beats and the band broke into instrumental version of the Heat of the Moment to get everyone's attention.
Adam, in his newest role as the announcer, told everyone to settle down because the show was finally getting started, then waited until the band faded into silence, before announcing "Mr.… and Mr. Winchester, everybody."
The crowd cheered as Dean and Cas entered, hand in hand, grinning ear to ear, and started mingling with the guests.
After what seemed like hours… or days, Dean wasn't sure… the band started again, and Sam appeared, a little tipsy, on the stage with a champagne flute. "Excuse me? Can we have those two lovebirds up front? Not everyone has amazing hot sex to look forward to for the next 10-15 days."
"Hey! Speak for yourself," someone yelled.
The newly married couple laughed as they made their way up front. As soon as they reached close enough, Sam spoke up, "I'd like to take this opportunity to pity… er, WELCOME! Sorry, slip o' tongue," he clicked his tongue for added effect, the crowd laughed, "the person who has voluntarily chosen to spend his life getting harassed by Dean Winchester. To Cas," he yelled, saluting with his glass and downing his drink in one gulp.
"To Cas," the crowd roared as Celine took Sam's place... or rather, pushed him out of the way. On cue, the band started a slow, soulful rendition and Celine sang,
"I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart…
But you came around and you knocked me, off the ground from the start...
You put your arms around me and I believed that it's easier for you to let me go…
You put your arms around me and I'm home… You put your arms around me and I'm home"
"Okay, people," Celine ended Cas' toast, and continued in an odd sing-song Canadian-French accent, "Since you have already welcomed Cas into your families, it's time we welcome Dean into ours. Here's to the man who stole our sweet little Jimmy's heart. Here's… to Dean," she said, tossing back her champagne.
"To Dean," the crowd roared, as Dick took her place, slinging his guitar and swaying his hips to the slight upbeat jazz,
"From the moment I first saw you, knew my heart could be not be free…
Had to hold in my arms now... There can never be another for me…"
As soon as he finished, the rest of the Leviathans let loose, and started drumming out the chorus of,
"And it was the heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant.
The heat of the moment showed in your eyes…
It was the heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant.
The heat of the moment showed in your eyes…
Heat of the moment… Heat of the moment… Heat of the moment showed in your eyes…"
The band stretched the chords more than required, sending the crowd into a drunken frenzy. They faded away to the chants of "Encore! Encore!" which stopped only after Dean appeared on the stage and strummed his guitar a few times.
"Crowd! Calm down!" Dean hollered and silence fell over the room. He grinned. "To the dance floor, everybody." As everybody shuffled to the dance floor, laughing and muttering, crowding into the small space, Dean cleared his throat. "I have been told, time and again, that I can't dance. Apparently I don't have the right kind of legs for it…"
The people their age laughed heartily, while the younger crowd giggled nervously not sure what to read into the joke. Cas, on the other hand, frowned thinking that Dean was taking another self-deprecating jab at himself, until a woman named Rebecca assured him that this was a running joke… initiated after a very drunk Dean, and his wobbly bow legs, attempted to do Charlie Brown polka on the Roadhouse bar, in their senior year.
"…so," Dean continued, as Cas turned his attention back to his husband, only to discover that not only had he missed a chunk of Dean's speech, but also that he was alone in the middle of floor and had a spotlight, and eyes of everyone in the room, trained on him. He turned an alarming shade of pink and desperately met his Major's gaze.
Dean tilted his head sideways and grinned cockily. "I guess my hus…band," he rolled it off his tongue and winked at the said guy, making him shiver to the bones, "has finally decided to join us again. Now… as I was saying…" Dean cradled the guitar and strummed a few chords for dramatic effect, "Since we won't be having a traditional first dance, does anyone volunteer for this once in a lifetime opportunity to dance with Cas Novak-Winchester. No family," he clarified, when Claire stepped forward. "Sorry."
After much deliberation, whispering, finger pointing, and poking and prodding, a young man, barely 20, lurched forward, steadied himself and offered his hand. "Hey! I'm Neil," he mumbled.
Cas remembered him as the kid who was gawking him on his very first day at the garage. He smiled and accepted it. "Hey, Neil. I'm Cas," he replied and was met with a blinding smile.
Dean cleared his throat to turn the attention back to him, gestured to the band, letting them warm the crowd, then sang in a loud clear voice,
"You can dance, every dance with the guy who gives eye let him hold you tight…
You can smile, every smile for the man who held your hand beneath pale moonlight…
But don't forget who's taking you home… And in who's arms you're gonna be…
So darling, save the last dance for me…"
as Cas happily twirled the kid around the floor. Dean finished the first song and vacated the stage, letting the band take over, as the other couples joined in, and a few more cut into each other for the opportunity to dance with Cas, all of whom he happily obliged while strictly adhering to the "no family" rule.
Sam, since Jess had opted to stay at home and watch over the kids, grabbed Celine by her waist and started spinning her around the floor, his 6-and-a-half feet towering over a petite five-something frame.
Cas left the floor as soon as the first set finished and found Dean sitting on a ratty old loveseat, in a corner, away from the crowd, nursing a half-empty bottle of champagne.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Cas scolded, snatching the bottle from his hands and taking a few sips himself. "What are you doing here?" he asked sitting down beside him.
"I thought I could do it," Dean shrugged. "But everyone keeps talking about him… I can't… He should've been here… standing by me... making fun of Sam and his happy drunk… or the fact I can't do the polka on the bar anymore… and you. He would've loved you… you are just like him," he muttered, pulling Cas closer, till he was practically sitting in his lap, and nuzzled his neck.
Cas sighed and twisted around till he was comfortably settled in Dean's lap, legs sprawling along the length of the couch, arms circled his around his neck and pulled him in a kiss. They spent long minutes making out like horny teenagers and feeding each other from a couple of champagne bottles Cas had snagged from somewhere… until the band erupted with a renewed vigour, and Claire and Jo came looking for Cas, for their traditional brother-sister dance.
"I'm not coming," Cas pouted in his typical "not drunk but getting there" way. "Don't like people watching me dance."
"C'mon Cas," Jo cajoled. "We practiced it remember. You don't have to worry. No one's going to eat you… Or laugh at you…"
"No!" Cas murmured, pressing himself even further in Dean's lap. "I'm not going," he repeated like a petulant child.
"What's he talking about?" Dean asked confused. Not half an hour ago, Cas was perfectly happy being passed around like a bong. "He was fine with people watching him dance before."
"Oh, it's not that kind of dance," Claire replied. "It's…" she bent to whisper in Dean's ear, even though everyone else present in their circle was privy to the secret.
Dean's eyes widened. "No!" he gasped. "You can't make him do that!"
"Pwease?" Jo whined and pouted. "It's pewfect. Pwettyy pwease?" she said in a creepy little girl's voice, stomping her feet.
Dean shuddered. "Promise to never do that again and we have a deal," he said extending his hand. Cas gaped at him like he was being sold to the devil.
Jo nodded and shook it. "Deal," she replied in her normal voice.
"No!" Cas said hugging his husband's neck in a barely-there choke-hold. "Not. Going."
Dean sighed. "Go ahead, I'll get him," he said and watched Jo and Claire hurry towards the stage before turning back to the scared Angel in his lap. "Do it," he stated.
Cas stared at him. "No!" he asserted, shaking his head vigorously. "It's only for you. Stupid Claire spied on me then told her… I'm not sharing it with anyone else. It's yours… and mine."
"Then do it for me," Dean replied. "I'll be there. Okay? You look at me and do it."
"Everyone will laugh," Cas argued. "They'll think I'm a freak."
"You are a freak," Dean replied. "But so am I. That's what makes a perfect couple. Now go and give 'em hell. Show 'em what you got. Besides they're so drunk, they won't remember any of it tomorrow."
That seemed to calm him down. "Okay," he murmured pulling Dean in another hungry kiss and standing up. He could see a semi hard-on on Dean and laughed, extremely pleased with himself. He waited until Dean made a successful transition from the couch to his wheelchair, then walked back with him to the dance floor Claire and Jo had already cleared.
Cas handed his jacket to Dean, kissed him one more time, took a deep breath and went to stand between his sisters, his eyes on his Major, imagining himself in their kitchen making breakfast while Dean watched. "Okay," he breathed and the band exploded,
"I like to move it, move it… I like to move it, move it… I like to move it, move it… You like to… MOVE IT!
I like to move it, move it… I like to move it, move it… I like to move it, move it… You like to… MOVE IT!"
True to his promise, Cas threw himself into the dance with abandon, shaking his hips and gyrating to the loud beats, his attention focused solely on his husband who was staring back at him with pure lust, both their jackets clutched in his lap to hide the reaction that was happening to his body. Cas grinned, extremely pleased with what he was doing to him. He grabbed one of the girls, he was too forgone himself to notice which one, and spun her around, so fast he thought she crashed when he released her, and went for the other one. By the time the song ended, it had lasted hardly 3 minutes, he could see Dean was almost on the edge.
As soon as Edgar gave the final drum roll, he jumped off the floor, took hold of one of the wheelchair arms and dragged the contraption towards the toilets, ignoring the half-drunk, knowing smirks they were getting. He tried the Men's first, but someone was already getting happy in it. Fortunately the Women's was empty. He pushed Dean inside, then shut the door behind them and locked it. He fell to his knees, yanking the jackets away and pulling at the button and the zipper as fast as he could, while Dean leaned his head back, eyes closed, and grunted happily.
They had progressed enough in their therapy that Cas could get a little rough without fear. Cas reached and pulled out his husband's hard cock, already oozing precum, from the boxers and reached up to take him in his mouth. It took only a couple of yanks and a slight tongue-on-slit action, before Dean let out a strangled half-cry and emptied himself in his Angel's mouth.
As he waited for his breath to settle, Cas tucked him back and crawled into his lap, kissing him with the same abandon he had displayed on the dance floor. Dean could taste the champagne, tangy aftertaste of the appetizers they had eaten, and himself on the tongue that was currently trying to brush his tonsils. He shifted a little so Cas was sat more comfortably, his legs hanging out over one of the arms, body leaned against his husband's, arms circling his neck.
"You know," Dean whispered when they finally separated to breathe. "This kinda reminds me of my prom." Cas raised an eyebrow in question. "Me and Rachel Knave… No, wait! That was Sam's prom... Me and Steve Miller under the punch table… while everyone got drunk off their asses. He was my first…" Dean added batting his eyelashes, and deservingly got punched. He laughed. "No, seriously, but you are a better kisser."
"Just kisser?" Cas asked softly.
Um... lem'me see…" Dean stalled. "Um… and then there's that thing you do with your tongue…" he said, nuzzling the neck and roaming his hands all over the body "…and hands… and then there's… Why aren't you hard?" he asked suddenly.
"What?" Cas asked, looking down to where Dean was pawing at his crotch. "Oh!" he said as if he just realized it. "I was dancing with my sisters… I don't think grinding against them with a hard-on was an option." Dean laughed. "Uh… Can I ask you something, Major," he continued hesitantly, his hand trailing down to meet Dean's which had moved up to lie on his stomach and twining their fingers together. "But only if you don't get angry. It's not that I don't want to… it's just…"
"Okay," Dean interjected.
"Can we not have sex tonight?" he asked, still in daze. "It's just I'm very tired… and I know so are you…"
"Okay," Dean replied, a little louder.
"… There's my sister and your son and your brother and his pregnant wife and Dee… and the walls are very thin…"
"Okay," Dean said loudly, knocking their heads together, to get him out of his reverie. "I got it. No sex tonight. We both need to sleep, especially you, because you'll be constantly driving for the next two weeks. Happy?" Cas nodded and sighed, burying his face in his husband's neck, and closed his eyes.
Someone knocked at the door. "If you two are done, there are people out here who actually need the room," a shrill voice shouted.
Dean exhaled with exasperation, "What do you say we blow this joint and have an early night?"
Cas nodded, as the woman outside the door knocked again, angrily. "I know it's you in there, Winchester. If you don't come out right this second, I'll go out and pee on your car," she shouted.
Dean cursed under his breath and yanked the door open, letting her in first – she practically ran to the stall, cradling her stomach – then easing out and closing the door behind them.
-x-x-x-
By the time they returned to the dance floor, the band had already switched to slow waltzes and most of the drunken couples were, more or less supporting each other to keep standing on their feet, swaying together. Cas pointed out an extremely drunk Sam trying to climb into Celine's lap, looking like King Kong had decided to climb on the girl rather the Empire State Building.
Dean smiled and clicked a picture. He would show it to Jess tomorrow. Eye for an eye… picture for a picture.
"C'mon," he said turning towards the exit, but Cas reached out and pulled him back, "You still owe me a dance."
"What?" Dean asked, wondering if he had lost his mind.
Cas smiled, his "I know what I'm doing, Trust me" smile. "You told me to save the last dance for you, remember?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something else. Dean nodded confused. It was a nice song, but he had no idea what Cas was getting at. Cas smiled, widely now. "Excellent," he muttered, turning back towards the stage.
Dean saw him whisper something to Dick, who looked at him curiously, then at Dean, then back at him and grinned widely, his teeth taking over the bottom half of his face – it was endearing in a creepy sort of way – and nodded and turned to instruct his band.
Cas clapped his hands and turned back to Dean, pulled him to the far corner, away from the crowd and but still close enough that they were actually on the floor. He bent down, his face inches from Dean's and whispered, "Do you trust me?"
Dean nodded, still not sure what was expected of him, when Cas took both of his hands and locked then behind his neck. Dean's eyes widened as he realized what Cas was trying to do. "Are… are you sure?" he whispered back.
Cas nodded. "Trust me, okay. I won't let anything happen to you." Dean whispered a curse as Cas gripped him tightly around the waist and pulled him to his feet, next moment he was pressed flush against Cas, front to front, everything below their necks touching. The grip on his waist tightened into a crushing embrace and he unconsciously tightened his hold around Cas' neck, hugging it.
Cas maneuvered them till Dean was standing slightly taller and broader than him, then still gripping tightly, he put his head in crook of Dean's neck… practically holding him like a large, human sized cuddle bunny… and sighed. "I got you, Major," he murmured, "Just trust me," closing his eyes, and started swaying side to side… not enough to lose their balance… but enough to give it an illusion of dancing. "Relax, Major," he whispered once more, softly kissing the exposed skin directly under his lips.
Dean, much against his will, found himself moving in the same lulling rhythm, and closed his eyes as the faint strains of the song wafted through the air…
"I'll always remember that magic moment… When I held you close to me…
As we moved together, I knew forever… You're all I'll ever need…
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life… Would you be my partner every night…
When we're together it feels so right… Could I have this dance for the rest of my life…"