Work Text:
You gotta help me out // It's all a blur last night
We need a taxi 'cause you're hung-over and I'm broke
I lost my fake id but you lost the motel key
Spare me your freakin' dirty looks // Now don't blame me
You roll the cash out // And get the hell out of town
The first text wasn’t exactly concerning: you gotta help me out.
But then Cas sent me a text: it’s all a blur last night.
Receiving those two texts that close together made me raise a brow and question what was going on. When Dean left, he said he was taking a few days off for himself. Cas had left a day before without warning, which was normal. Cas does what he wants when he wants and checks in by phone so we know he’s okay. But this was strange… Cas struggling to remember something and Dean needing help.
So I pinged his phone and started off.
To Vegas.
I had no idea what to expect. Even when I find Dean’s car and a motel key on the ground, wedged almost completely under a tire, and the pair of them squabbling at the window. Dean shoves Cas over and growls. “I don’t understand why you can just angel the damn window open, Cas.”
“I can’t even see straight,” he groans right back, stumbling under Dean’s aggressiveness.
It’s all I can do to hold back a chuckle. As I bend down to free the motel key, I hear Dean complaining some more. “You’re hungover!”
“I forgot how awful this is,” he admits.
“And I’m broke,” Dean continues complaining.
Once I have the key free, I stand right back up and continue watching from the farthest side of the Impala. Dean is trying desperately to strong arm his way around the screen and wedge open the window. It makes absolutely no sense. If I were a better brother I would try to fix it or correct him, or even actually help him, but I don’t. This is only going to get more interesting.
“And you lost your fake identification card,” Cas points out again, “so you can’t even go ask for another key.”
“Which you lost!” Dean shouts, banging his hand against the wall of the motel building.
This feels like the right time to step out and let them know that I’m here. I even shift with the intention of intervening and saving the day and demanding an explanation. That’s when Cas makes a face at Dean, an expression full of judgment and anger. He doesn’t usually shown a wide range of emotions anymore, being as tired as he is after everything we’ve been through over the last few years.
“Spare me the dirty freaking looks, Castiel, because I’m not happy,” he breathes, the hangover clearer in his voice now that he’s slowing down. At this point, I know what a terrible person I would be if I stay hanging back any longer. I move to the door with the key and unlock it, somehow going unnoticed by both men.
When the door swings open, Dean turns around and Cas leans over to see him. “Sam?” they question at the same time.
“Let’s get you two inside before the lover’s quarrel gets out of hand,” I say, smiling quickly and looking down at the ground. Dean walks by, reeking of alcohol and… shimmering? glittering? He shakes his head and I catch the sparkling of his hair out of the corner of my eye. As for Cas, as he passes he stinks of expired cologne and hairspray. And also, his hair looks quite a bit darker.
Once inside, Dean sits on the bed and starts taking off his shoes. Cas stands next to the same bed and stares down at the mattress. There’s something weird about their dynamic right now. The air in the room feels very strange. Instead of trying to figure it out on my own, I just ask for the answer. “So… What happened?”
“Maybe Cas should explain this one,” Dean almost shouts.
Cas cocks his head but keeps his gaze down. “Don’t blame me for this. Vegas was your idea.”
“I just need to get the hell out of this town,” Dean shoots back. “I need a shower to get all of this damn glitter off and I need to go back to the bunker.”
Sighing, I ask them again. “What the hell happened, guys? It’s Vegas, and I’m pretty sure anything you tell me at this point is not going to be foreign territory. We’ve seen the weirdest of the weird, the worst of the worst.”
I think to myself, I sure hope that I’m wrong.
Why are these lights so bright
Oh, did we get hitched last night, dressed up like Elvis
Why am I wearing your class ring? // Don't call your mother
Cause now we're partners in crime
Dean stands up and sheds his green jacket. Cas averts his eyes until Dean gets to the bathroom and then shifts his body away. After making a comment about ‘stupid bathroom lights,’ he slams the door behind him. The water starts running shortly after that so I’m left with just Cas.
“Can you fill me in, please? What is going on because I don’t know whether I should be laughing or planning right now,” I ask him with a softer tone. I think the concern is clearer to him than it would ever be to Dean. This works on him, too, because he does offer an explanation.
“Dean told me to meet him in Vegas. He signed us up for an amateur night, and I thought he maybe meant karaoke,” Cas starts off with one hell of a hook for a story. I, of course, know that the only amateur night that Dean cares about is the kind that happens at a strip club. It never crossed my mind that Dean might participate in one, but I can officially add it to the list of weird things that he’s done. “I didn’t know that amateur night was happening at a strip club. I refused to participate but I told Dean I would support him from the crowd. As it turns out, the crowd is very nice. They got us glitter cannons and gave me tons of free drinks. Apparently, I shot off all of the glitter cannons at Dean when he was in his underwear. He’s told me all the places where he’s got glitter stuck now.”
After that, Dean got off the stage and started wrestling with Cas, which resulted in tons of money being tossed at them. When they stopped being mad at each other, the same group of ladies got both of them more drinks, so they left the strip club drunk. Then they went to a pawn shop, on accident, and there was a class ring with the name “Dean” etched on the inside of it. Naturally, my brother was talking about how he never got to buy that kind of stuff because of the “family business” and Cas made him buy it just to say that he did it.
“How thoughtful of you,” I say, wondering where in the world this story is headed.
“Dean must have agreed because he proposed to me,” Cas remarks casually.
“What?” I spit.
“Dean proposed to me with this pawn shop class ring,” he declares again. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. Sure enough, there it is, not that I expected anything else, but it makes me wonder whether the climax of this story is that they got married.
Which I definitely ask, “So did you guys get married in Las Vegas?”
“Yes. We did a themed wedding. Dean didn’t participate but I was dressed like Elvis Preseley,” Cas confirms. This news is flooring me. It’s something we’ve joked about a lot, something everyone has been joking about, for many years now. Dean and Cas have a relationship that is very complex. Sometimes they are more like brothers than Dean and I feel, and sometimes they’re standing on opposite sides ready to fight each other to the death. Even in those times they manage to still care about each other. It’s easy to see that they matter to each other - more than family, apparently?
I process the information, but I still ask to be sure. “So you are married now? Like, Dean and Castiel Winchester? Or Dean and Castiel Novak?”
“Yes, but we’re still just Dean and Cas,” he clarifies.
I shake around a bit, thinking about what to do and how to proceed. I don’t know what to say, since it doesn’t seem like they would be appreciative of a ‘congratulations’ by any means. The only thing I can think of is, “Should we share the news? I bet my mom would be thrilled.”
“Dean doesn’t want anyone to know,” he shares brashly. Dean told him that he did not anyone judging him for getting married in Vegas to an angel. He doesn’t want anything to do with it. So the marriage is supposed to be a secret.
I want to ask him what the plan is with the marriage - annulment, divorce, or stay married - but the water cuts off and Dean is getting out of the shower. If Dean didn’t want anyone to know, then he wouldn’t be happy to know that I know already. Saving Cas the trouble, I just smile and change topics.
We idly discuss some of the work going on at the bunker. Dean storms out and starts packing his stuff up and is obviously not making any efforts to socialize, even though he is definitely paying close attention to the conversation we’re having. Cas keeps giving him the side-eye when he’s not looking.
It’s honestly the most childish thing I’ve ever seen - especially for two people who are supposedly married!
“So…” I say, trying to include Dean in the conversation. “Following me back to the Bunker or do you need to make any stops?”
Dean grunts, shrugs, shakes his head, and then grunts again.
“I could ride with Sam,” Cas offers.
Dean repeats the same series of actions in the same order.
Instead of trying to get through to him in this kind of mood, I remain silent. The only way to get him to crack when he is like this is to let him think he’s controlling the room. When he gets tired of the quiet then he will make an attempt at socializing with us. I give Cas a look hoping to convey my plan.
Even if I don’t make it clear, he still seems to be on the same page. Neither one of us talk to Dean or look at him as he stalks around the room being angry. I check my phone. Cas paces back and forth. The room starts to feel almost comfortable in the quiet.
And that’s when Dean loses it. “Let’s get out of here. There are cases that need worked and we can’t do it from Vegas! We’re wasting time!”
Cas smiles at me and nods his head. “I agree. We need to get back to work.”
As we’re getting out of the room, Dean walks off with his wallet to get the room checked back in, and Cas goes to stand by the Impala. Once I am sure that Dean is out of earshot, I approach him with my hands in my pocket and one question on my mind.
“All jokes aside, do you think you want to stay married to a Winchester? We’re bad news, usually.”
There is almost no time between the end of my statement and the beginning of Cas’s: “We were already family. This changes very little for how much I care about you or your brother.”
“Good luck with your husband , then,” I laugh.
Cas nods. “My official partner in crime.”