Chapter Text
“Dean. You can’t be serious.”
“Las Vegas, Sammy. I’ve never been more serious. Look, you stay here and figure this shifter thing-- don’t look at me like that, you do all the research anyway-- I’ll go show Cas how to have a really good time, and when you figure it out, you give Cas a jingle and we’ll head back no problem. Come on, Sam, It’s right around the corner!”
Sam gave him a mild bitchface. “It’s more than three hours away, Dean. That’s not “right around the corner”.”
“Don’t deny Cas the simple pleasures, Sammy.” He wrapped an arm around the angel’s shoulders companionably, who stood there looking like a mix of disbelief and awkward terror. “You wanna go, don’tcha Cas?”
“Uh--” Cas looked at Dean’s hopeful face and caved. “Yes. I would especially like to see this city of debauchery and hedonism first hand.”
Dean grinned at him. “See?”
Sam rolled his eyes, certain that Cas would agree to fly into the sun if Dean asked him too. He crossed his arms and regarded them both with an irritated scowl. The prospect of letting his brother loose in a city known for bad choices with only the angel for supervision was not a good one. However. Maybe the time alone together would finally get their heads out of their respective asses and realize they were stupid in love with each other.
“Fine.” It was only the one shifter, anyway.
“Really?” Dean asked, surprised.
He sighed. “Yeah. God knows we deserve a little fun sometimes, I’ll just hang out here and enjoy some time for myself.”
Dean shifted, feeling guilty. “You can come too, if you want we can finish this case, then head--”
“Oh, no. The last time I was in Vegas, I ended up married to Becky, remember?” Sam shuddered.
Dean laughed. His arm, Sam noted, was still slung around Cas’ shoulders. Cas tilted his head, confused. “You were married?”
Dean laughed even harder. “I remember, man. I promise we’ll keep an eye out for crazy fangirls.”
“Very funny, Dean. Just be careful.”
“You too, Sam. Just shoot Cas a prayer when you’ve figured it out and are ready to put the shifter down, and we’ll head back. Come on, Cas. This is going to be awesome.”
Dean slid unwillingly into awareness some 30 hours later. He cracked an eyelid and regretted it immediately, scrunching his eyes closed and pressing his hand to his face, as if he could push the pounding from his skull. He groaned, and tried to open his eyes again to take in his surroundings. He caught sight of his reflection, staring blearily back at him from the tiled mirror on the ceiling. He stilled, realizing that there was a person shaped lump in the bed next to him in the mirror, which meant... Yup. There was an arm flung around his bare middle.
In a rising panic, he tried to remember the night before. There had been drinking, a little black jack, drinking, Texas hold ‘em, more drinking, strippers, some neon green body shots off the strippers, then...? He couldn’t remember much of anything past that. Couldn’t remember when or how he’d gotten back to the motel, or who he’d brought with him. He just hoped he hadn’t married her. Sam would never let him live it down.
A whole new panic flared in him. Oh, God. Cas! Where was Cas? He had to find him, he’d brought him here to have fun and then what? Just abandoned him for some chick? He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, so he shoved the arm off his stomach and sat up quickly. The world spun, and he fought a wave of nausea. He noted, thank God, that he was still wearing his pants, though his belt and the button of his jeans were both undone. It made him feel less guilty, for some messed up reason, to know he hadn’t actually had sex with the stranger next to him.
The stranger that was stirring underneath the comforter. Dean thought about booking it out of there, immediately. He really needed to find Cas and apologize, he didn’t have time for morning after drama, and he especially didn’t want to have to apologize for not... performing. He looked around quickly, but his shirt and shoes were no where to be found.
The stranger groaned. A very deep can’t-even-pretend-it-was-feminine groan.
Fuck his shirt, and his shoes. He needed to get out of there, NOW. He started backing away from the bed, staring at it with a sense of total horror, moving towards the door, and trying to process what he had been doing in bed with a guy. The stranger threw back the comforter, and lifted his head from the pillow.
The familiar mess of dark hair sent a wave of relief through Dean. “Cas?”
Castiel sat up completely, groaning again and putting his head in his hands. “I do not care much for Las Vegas.”
Dean huffed a laugh, reveling in relief. Sure, yeah, okay, so he had still been in bed with a guy, but it was Cas. He very stubbornly ignored his state of dress and the fact that Cas was in nothing but his boxers and tie. Sure, it might be awkward for a while, but this was totally a crash-with-your-friend-because-you’re-piss-drunk-and-absolutely-nothing-else-is-going-on kind of thing.
“What happened last night, man?”
Castiel was quiet for a minute, and then shook his head. “I remember the establishment was very impressed with my alcohol tolerance, and that you asked me to take a drink from a woman’s cleavage. I think her name was Calypso? They were green, and I had many of them. Then there were more shots, and we had to lick salt off each other.”
“You and Calypso? Nice.” Dean asked, amused.
“No. You and I.” Dean stiffened, but Cas went on as if nothing was wrong. “Then we got in a taxi, I think... I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Okay. Well. Where are the rest of our clothes?”
Castiel looked down at himself, and then glanced around. “I am not sure.” He looked at Dean with a quirk of his head. “Why would we remove our clothing?”
“No. Man, just-- Don’t-- Don’t go there. Okay?”
Castiel didn’t understand why the question upset him so much, or at least, he acted like he didn’t understand, but he nodded, and got out of bed. They found Cas’ pants by the door, but the rest of their clothes were missing. Dean opened the door to their room to ask the front desk if housekeeping had been through and picked up their clothes, and found a large grocery bag hung on the other side of the door. It held most of their missing clothes, minus one of Dean’s socks.
Pinned to the bag was a note written on motel stationary.
I tried to get you boys to pick these up last night, but you both seemed more keen on celebrating than worrying what would happen to your clothes when housekeeping came through. Young love is funny that way. Still, I figured you’d need them back.
~Room 28
Ps. You make an adorable couple. Congratulations!
Dean made a strangled noise as he re-read the note a third time. Flashes of Castiel pressing him against the wall in the hallway as they tore at each other’s clothes burst through his mind. He cleared his throat. “Cas? You don’t remember anything else from last night? Did we? I mean, it sounds like-- But we didn’t-- We wouldn’t have--”
“You aren’t articulating your question very well, Dean. What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Castiel looked at him carefully, trying to figure out what was bothering him. Dean stuffed the note roughly into his jeans pocket, but pulled it back out almost immediately along with a photo set from a photo booth. It was folded in half, and Dean unfolded it like it might bite him. The first picture was innocent enough, both of them smiling for the camera, Dean with his arm slung around Cas’ shoulders again. It made Dean smile. The next two were horribly blurry, a silent testament to just how drunk they’d been. The last one had the smile slipping from Dean’s face, as it was very obviously him and Cas and they were very obviously kissing.
Dean’s mouth ran dry. He’d kissed Cas? What the hell? And how unfair that he couldn’t remember it. Wait. What? No.
He resolutely shoved both things back into his pocket, thrust the bag of clothes at Cas, and locked himself in the bathroom to wash his face and freak the fuck out. When he felt together enough to leave the bathroom, he noticed Cas sitting on the bed, pouting. “What’s the matter, Cas?”
“My coat is covered in glitter.” He grumbled, longing for the days he didn’t have to conserve every bit of Grace.
Dean chuckled. “Well, that happens when you hang out with strippers. You ready?”
Castiel didn’t answer except to stand and shrug into his glittery coat. Dean made to lead the way out of the room, but the angel stopped him. “Would you like this back? I assume you gave it to me last night to hold on to, but I do not remember.”
Dean stared uncomprehendingly at the ring on Castiel’s hand. It wasn’t a family heirloom or anything, just a silver band he wore sometimes, when he needed to appear off the market, or just because, it wasn’t even valuable, but the sight of it on Cas’ finger was the last nail in his coffin. He dropped heavily into the cheap motel chair, and put his head between his knees.
Sam was never, ever going to let this go.
Castiel was hovering. “Dean? What’s wrong? I can still hold onto it, if you’d like, it’s no problem.”
“Cas, I think... I think we might’ve, uh, tied the knot.” The angel looked down at his shoes and inspected the laces. “No, you know, tied the knot. Gotten hitched. Oh, for Christ’s sake, we’re married!”
“Oh.” It was the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and Dean looked at him incredulously.
“’Oh?’ That’s all you can--” His phone rang. Dean answered it grudgingly. It was Sam. “Yeah?”
“Where are you? What is going on? I’ve been praying to Cas off and on for three hours now.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it. Uh, we’ll be on our way soon, me and Cas have to, uh, get something taken care of first.” Like, a marriage to annul.
“What? No. This is a metric shit ton bigger than we thought. There’s more than one shifter, and they are collaborating with ghouls for body disposal. I need back up, like, yesterday.”
Dean huffed a sigh in annoyance. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. We’re on our way.”
The drive back to Sam was tense. Dean asked for his ring back, and Castiel only hesitated a second before handing it back. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry everything got screwed up. This was just supposed to be a good time... I just wanted you to have a little fun.”
“I did enjoy myself Dean, spending time with you is always a “good time”. Thank you for bringing me, though I am in no hurry to consume so much alcohol any time soon.”
Dean shook his head, only half listening. “I’m still not entirely sure how this happened, but as soon as we’re done with this shifter thing, we’ll come back and get it annulled or whatever, and hopefully Sam will be none the wiser.”
Castiel stared out the window as the desert sped by. “If that is what you want.”
Dean stole a sidelong glance at the angel in the passenger seat. “It-- it’s not what you want?”
Castiel shrugged. “I’m not sure why an event neither of us can remember should hold so much significance, but if it bothers you, we can have it undone.”
The photo set in his pocket seemed suddenly heavy, and the foggy memory of Cas’s hands on him on their way to their room rang in his head. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, maybe... No.
“Yeah. It- It bothers me.”
Three months. It had been three months and at least 20 hunts since Dean and Cas’s adventure in Las Vegas. Dean told himself that the current hunt was more important. That they couldn’t get away from Sam without looking suspicious. That it was too far to get to today. That they’d get around to it eventually.
Dean told himself lies.
Cas hadn’t mentioned it, going about life with a business as usual attitude, and other than Sam jokingly asking “So, either of you end up married?” when they got back, and Dean flailing about internally for a few seconds before deflecting the question, it was almost as if the whole thing hadn’t happened. Almost.
Maybe he spent quite a lot of time looking at those tiny pictures, then folding the card in half and sliding them carefully behind the faded photo of his mom in his wallet. Maybe he kinda wished he remembered more of that night, like how on earth he had gotten Cas, drunk or not, to agree to marry him. Maybe, sometimes, he spun his ring on his finger, and remembered that Cas had worn it. Maybe, if he was totally honest with himself, he really like the idea of some paper out there claiming that Cas was officially his, and vice versa.
Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal to just have what happened in Vegas, stay in Vegas.