Disclaimer: I still don't own. A. N. Hope you enjoy! (Also, I'm starting to suspect I'll just edge y'all till actual wedding night. ;D I'd say sorry, but not really.)
Cas can't help but glance at the list when he's handed it. Next to Benny's name, there's a little note. Need to talk to him before you ask, please, Jack. S.
He doesn't comment on it. He's curious, sure. And Sam must not consider it especially secret, given that he hasn't folded the paper or done anything to hide it. Still, if Sam wants to share, he'll speak. There's nothing especially concerning about it. Of all the people they've ever met, he doesn't suspect the vampire as Sam's possible accomplice in the kind of shenanigans that would warrant worrying about it. (Which, to be fair, all of them had indulged in various occasions.)
He pockets it, and says, "So...speaking of the guest list, do we need to add more than Jody and her girls to this to consider it done?"
"First of all: do you count Donna as one of Jody's girls? Because she wouldn't forgive us for leaving her out, despite being a golden retriever." Dean asks.
"I did, but she's not...she hasn't become a skinchanger, has she?" Cas asks. He would have been told if that happened, wouldn't he?
Dean laughs. "No, it's - internet speak, never mind."
"Anyway, since we'll - well, hopefully - have Benny, which means monsters are in, and any hunter or Man of Letters should be able to behave for at least a few hours...what about Garth?" Sam quips.
""Garth, sure. You know what, Bess too if she wants. We will have to make it an adults only affair, though. I won't be responsible for their kids being exposed to...well, Gabriel, Balthazar, Crowley, the list goes on. That would raise a lot of questions that nobody wants to answer yet. Or for, I assume, a dozen years minimum. That should be no problem, right? What good is having a pack if you can't find a babysitter for a day?" Dean replies.
Cas nods along. It makes sense. "Anyone else?"
The brothers share a look, before Dean sighs. "No."
Cas is tempted to kiss the disappointment away from him. The fact that precious few people have managed to survive befriending them is, indeed, depressing. Cas is almost surprised that anyone could, under Chuck's sadistic rule. "Maybe we should pick a place and time? If we're going to actually send invitations?" he says instead.
Dean laughs. Mission accomplished.
Sam opens the laptop. "Considering we've travelled a lot for way more stupid reasons... do I google prettiest churches in Kansas or in USA or...well, I'm assuming you're not getting on a plane since nobody's life is on the line. But if I'm wrong, I'm all for expanding the search as far as you say."
"Stop right there," Dean replies, in a warning tone. Sam's about to fall into a research hole, and as great at it as he is, Cas gets his boyfriend. The results will be overwhelming, especially since they can't easily par them down the way they would on a case (wrong moon phase, wrong organ lacking...). How do you exclude a church? Wrong art style? How do you define it?
Sam glances at him, and says, "You already know."
"I...might have an idea. I mean, do we even need a church at all? There's gonna be god and a few angels in attendance. I'm pretty sure that's enough to consecrate anywhere just the second they walk in anyway. Even with a demon or two and a couple monsters, the balance should skew upwards, by sheer numbers, power amount. Something, " Dean replies. He turns to his fiancé. "Unless you were hoping to go to that church where you corrected the stained glass. Might be funny."
Cas automatically mumbles, "I'm sorry." His stint as God had been...he doesn't even have words. Not something any of his brethren would have wanted to be reminded of, certainly. Or himself, for that matter. Besides, surely someone had changed that window since?
"And no, if you have an alternative...I'd much rather hear it, instead of going back to that church. Or - any church. We'd have to break into one anyway, wouldn't we? The ones that stand usually aren't bring-your-own-celebrant in the first place. And given that Jack prefers a low profile, it might be difficult to explain."
"Exactly my thought. Organizing this whole thing could be chaotic enough, and I want to keep the lies to a minimum. Which is why I was thinking of something we could...well, we broke into it back then, but I bet we could rent it for the day. Or maybe even buy it, I mean it's stupid, but..."
"Dean, you're rambling," Sam cuts in. "Spit it. Kinda difficult to rent someplace we don't know in the lower 48."
"You wouldn't know anyway," Dean retorts. "But there's a...barn, near Pontiac, Illinois." He's fidgeting, and honestly the only fitting word to describe him is adorable. (Cas knows a thing or two about that).
"Where we met - on this plane." Cas says, just to make sure. With the added gift of perspective... he was already half-fallen (in love) back then, if not fully. Feelings are...complicated. But even while he thought he was still acting on heaven's orders, and nothing more - and that was an excuse he'd tell himself for a shamefully long time... Dean was Dean. Enough said.
"Coordinates, Cas," Sam asks.
Cas tells him. Of course he remembers. He could tell you anything about it...down to the amount of planks that made the roof. (Look, it was a long time since he'd last taken a vessel. He'd forgotten how to account for all the extra particles when moving around. At least Dean hadn't seen that specific blunder. His already non-existent trust would have plummeted further.)
"Aaand found it. Before I contact the current owner, though, you should really pick a date. Unless you were serious about buying it. We've definitely got the funds now," Sam declares.
"Preferences, Cas?" Dean asks.
The angels shakes his head. "I told you, so long as it happens, I'll be more than thrilled."
"Well, my instinct says 'soon'...not that we'll stumble on yet another apocalypse in the meantime, I am hoping, but you know. Why dillydally. So, as soon as we can get this thing on track. What do we even need to do?" Dean wonders aloud, sounding a bit lost.
"Well, huh... If we want to go all out and dazzle any British snob, I'd say decorations, music, a venue for a meal afterwards... You'll need to decide the menu, at that... Some party favors to remember the occasion by, not that I think anyone's ever gonna forget it. Possibly find a photographer. Do you even want to create a wedding registry? The contents would probably be hilarious, may be worth it. Oh, clothes, unless you are going to use the fed suit. And of course, you're gonna want to have the honeymoon lined up, and - "
"Ok, stop. Seriously, how do you even know all that? I mean, there wasn't half of that with Becky, so..."
"Well, I spent all night in the Tardis. With someone who missed his vocation as wedding planner, his widower boyfriend, and two girls, including one with multiple husbands in her long long history. Did you really think I wouldn't ask a few questions? As you said, none of us really has any previous experience to draw from. Well, not any decent ones," Sam explains to a his brother.
"You were up all night with two girls. And you were researching to make sure this wedding would go smooth. Seriously, Sammy, where did I go wrong with you?" Dean shakes his head.
Sam laughs. "You didn't. Anyway, I think the last thing is actually printing what we need. Said menus, for one, and - do we even send actual invites, on a card, to anyone? Or will you just text and let Jack do the honors with everyone else?"
"Not like we get a card to heaven...can we? Or, huh, another universe at that. Unless the girls double as post office, and honestly that seems like we'd be asking a lot," Dean replies.
"You need a ring, too, don't you?" Cas asks.
"Definitely," his beloved agrees.
Sam looks shocked that he forgot, then sighs. "Ok, I resign from assistant planner. Might have to get a few brain scans because seriously, how did I miss that?"
Dean shrugs. "You had too many stupid details about the thing in your mind. One or two had to slip. At least Cas caught it and we didn't figure it out on the big day."
"Which, again, will be?" Sam prods.
"With all the organizing to be done plus the fact that we'll probably fuck up a few times... Well, unless what you read back in Jimmy's brain might be of help, sunshine. I admit I thought it'd be worse, though, so...in three months? Should be more than enough time to figure it out, right?"
"That'd make it June. Preferences on the date?"
"I have one or two fuck no, but not any yes please, so... Cas?" Dean turns to him, and the angel tries not to wallow in the fact that at least one of the fuck no is his fault. Opening Purgatory - and what came before - wasn't his finest moment.
"You can throw a dart at a calendar," he says instead.
"Come on, guys. Can one of you make a decision, please? We can't move on and get anything done if we don't know that," Sam huffs.
"Ok, the 30th ," Dean says. "Unless anyone has objections."
No reply comes to that, so two minutes later Sam announces, "Mail sent. Now we just have to wait and see what the barn owners think of the request. "
"Ugh." Dean huffs. Waiting is nobody's favorite thing, but his beloved's even less than most.
So Cas kisses him. Because he can. (Sam definitely doesn't mind.) "We can find something to occupy ourselves with in the meantime."
"I need to check something," Sam announces, trotting deeper towards the archives. Really, that's unnecessary. Even if they decided to occupy themselves with each other, rather than furthering Cas' media education or anything else fit for polite company, the table they're sitting at has been christened long, long ago. There is Dean's memory foam mattress, plus many, many other areas yet to be played in. (Someday, every surface in the bunker - Sam's room excluded - will know them. It's...not a ritual, and not even a game, but Dean tossed that idea around one day, and Cas is all for it.)
"Can we?" Dean grins at him.
Cas nods solemnly.
"I appreciate that you let me take the lead with the planning. Especially since I can't exactly promise I won't mess it up, and you know, your friends..." Dean rambles.
"My friends" the angel cuts in "have enough beams to build a barn of their own to worry about. So they will not get judgy about our wedding, if they know what's good for them."
Dean laughs. "Noted. Anyway, if you'd like to take the wheel for a while." He bites his bottom lip. Well, how is Cas supposed to resist such an invitation? (No, the real question is...why would he be crazy enough to?"
"As you wish." He takes Dean's hand and drags him away from the war room. Yes, he's thinking the bedroom. So they can take their time in maximum comfort.
First, though. Well, they've been on a case, trip home, and the stress of planning... he can feel how tense Dean is. And yes, there are many, many ways to help with that, human and angelic alike. But he knows what his fiancé likes. "Shower," he announces, and gets a purred, "Mmkay" back.
Dean does love the bunker's eternal perfect pressure and hot water. Cas loves that, unlike on the road, space is not an issue. Not that he plans to leave any room between them. But it's much, much easier to take care of him this way when nobody is hitting elbows against a wall. Dean's always been the caretaker. When Cas got it in his mind to just...soap him up, help him wash his hair... (he saw something and really, after going without so long, any excuse to touch is welcome) his beloved lapped the attention right up.
Now? Dean almost melts in his arms. Lets himself be puppeteered a bit, eyes closed, soft sighs, just enjoying the water and his...fiancé's, today, (Cas won't say that he isn't still a little shocked by it, if entirely thrilled) strong, gentle hands. Cas feels downright blessed that he can have this. He steals one of those sighs with a kiss, just because he can. Even loses track of time a little, until he can feel in Dean's cells that maybe getting dry wouldn't come amiss.
Bundles him up in the softest bathrobe the Men of Letters left behind, and leads him - again - to the bedroom, all pink, warm and pliant.
As much as Cas loves any facet of Dean, this is one of his favorites. Because so few have ever had the pleasure of seeing it.
"Thanks," he rumbles, when they get to the bedroom.
"What?" Dean asks, surprised. Maybe a touch concerned, even.
"It would have been more than enough to show you off. Let my friends know that I didn't have to just dream anymore. I didn't expect you to want to - make it permanent."
Dean downright laughs. "You thought I could possibly dump you at some point?"
"I wasn't - thinking, per se. Or worrying. Just, you know. It was a possibility. Angel mindset. Consent can always be retracted, and it's not even unexpected, and it still counts obviously, and divorce is a thing anyway, but it's - a different level of commitment. One you didn't have to offer."
Yesterday they were too busy celebrating, in every sense of the word, to actually say this out loud. And despite learning most of his behavior from Dean, he's finally figured out that being clear - expressing oneself - can be important.
"First of all, divorce is not a thing. You're stuck with me. Or you will be soon. Don't you fucking dare, Cas. Second, have to offer? Dude, do I need to call Rowena? Is this like that time I got hit with magical Alzheimher's? Because if you didn't get it, I am committed already, all the way and more. I don't do things halfway, and I'm not the one who leaves, and you know it. This is more for my peace of mind than yours."
"I won't dare," he promises, kissing the frown off his fiancé's forehead. "Definitely. And I didn't mean to doubt you, beloved. I was just - feeling lucky, I guess."
Dean grins at him. "Feeling lucky, hm? Enough to try that luck?"
Cas finds himself tugged toward the bed.
"Always."