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“So,” says Sam, Worst Winchester Currently Alive. “You’ve decided to get married.”

“Oh for fuck’s-” From across the table, Castiel is glaring daggers. Dean backtracks immediately. “I mean– it’s not that I don’t want to do this, it’s just–”

“You don’t see how it’d change things.”

“Exactly. I don’t see the point.”

Sam sighs.

“We’ve been over this, Dean. You and I are brothers. We have no tangible ties to Cas, and we can’t infiltrate this goddamn cave unless we ‘come in pairs’. And you and I can’t do it without backup, you know that. So you need to marry Cas to get him over the threshold. We go in together, then you go back to get Cas.”

Dean grits his teeth.

“If a goddamn soulbond or whatever the fuck he put on me when he whisked me out of hell doesn’t count, why do you think a piece of paper would?”

“Because it’s legally binding in the United States of America,” Sam replies as if it’s obvious, as if his brother is being obtuse on purpose. As if what Sam just said made any goddamn sense.

“And?”

“Dean,” Castiel snaps. “Do you want to save the starving children or not?”

“Fine.”

“So,” Sam says again, raising his voice when Dean starts to protest again, “you’ve decided to get married, here are eight questions to ask yourself before you tie the knot.” Is that – that looks suspiciously like a Pinterest link. What the fuck, Sam?

“First question,” Dean mutters, “why the hell did I ever decide to go back and get you from Stanford.”

“Why the hell did I ever decide to go get you from hell,” Castiel snipes. Sam turns to Castiel, pointing at him with his tablet.

“You’re lucky. When this is over you can divorce him, I can’t un-make him my brother.”

“Well, love is clearly in the air, why don’t you two take the plunge.” He doesn’t mean for the words to slip out, but he’s apparently on grave digging duty today. The grave in question being his own, of course.

“We suggested that!” Sam and Cas shout. “And then you wouldn’t stop bitching at us!”

That’s true. He did do that.

“I know,” he grumbles. “Sorry. But look, don’t tell me you wouldn’t bitch at me if Eileen and I rocked up at your doorstep and said we were getting hitched but see, don’t worry, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Sam stares at him.

“Dean. That’s not the same thing.”

“You know, it kinda is.”

To his right, Castiel lets out a weary sigh, but Dean stands his ground. Cas’s his person. His guy. Screw how it sounds, but nobody marries him but Dean.

Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Then this shouldn’t be an issue. I mean. I’d, I’d marry Eileen, you know. For a case, or, for other reasons, you know–“

Dean smirks at his brother’s stuttering.

“I know you would.”

“Sam, what’s the eight questions? I want to know,” Castiel demands. He’s sprawled out on the motel bed Dean claimed, fully fucking dressed as usual. Shoes and all. On the bed.

“The questions are the least important part,” Dean protests. “There are children starving in a cave!”

“Yeah but there’s nothing we can do about it until morning anyway. This isn’t Vegas, we can’t just barge into a chapel at two in the morning and get you two hitched.”

“Fine,” Castiel mutters and reaches to pluck Sam’s tablet from his hands. “But let me read the questions.”

“No, I’m reading them,” Sam objects and tugs the tablet out of Castiel’s hands. “Don’t marry someone until you can honestly answer these questions. One: are your life goals compatible?”

Dean looks at Castiel and says “I think so?” at the same time as Castiel says “What are your life goals, Dean?”

“I, uh.” He scratches his neck, takes another swig of beer. “To not die? Unless, like, necessary. Like if it was me or someone else, someone who deserves to live I mean– then…”

“Dean”, Sam says, sounding strangled. “You deserve to live.”

“Your life goal can’t just be ‘not die’”, Castiel argues. “That’s like saying ‘my goal for the day is to just be awake’”.

“And yet for some it’s unattainable,” Dean snarks.

“That's usually you, Dean.”

“Hell yeah. Anyway, what are your life goals? What do you even know about that shit anyway?”

“What ‘shit’?” Castiel asks, air quotes and all. “Living?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to live somewhere where I can see the sea. I've always been curious about driving vehicles other than cars. I want to summit a mountain. I want to watch every Doctor Sexy MD spin-off. I want to try poached eggs, although I'm sure I wouldn't like them. I want to meet a blacksmith. I think I want to get a pet of some kind. I want to grow old. I suppose I also want to not die, as you put it.”

Sam looks between them and looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Dean, is that compatible with your goals?”

Dean swallows dryly. Cas’s never told him any of that before.

“Sure,” he says. Some of that stuff they could knock out in an afternoon, the rest is… trickier, but… technically not impossible. And he supposes it could be nice to live near the ocean… maybe. “But I ain’t getting on any mountain.”

“I miss the Himalayas,” Castiel sighs. “Okay, Sam. What’s the next question?”

“Can you accept their flaws?”

“I already do,” Dean snorts. “He’s crazy. Stubborn. Crazy stubborn. And he wears shoes in bed.”

Castiel looks down at his loafers and he looks a little guilty.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I accept that about you. Now c’mon, lay it on me. My flaws.” Castiel just looks at him, eyes suddenly soft, sincere and soulful and something squirms inside Dean. “If you’re about to say I don’t–”

“No, of course you have flaws, Dean. And of course I accept them. They’re part of you.”

“Cool”, Dean croaks. “Thanks. Next question, Sammy?”

“Oh, this is a good one. Are you financially compatible?” Sam’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. Dean snorts.

“Well, I’m a pro at hustling and scamming credit card companies and Cas here just straight up never pays for anything, so I’d say we’re a perfect match.”

“What? We gave you a card, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but I find queuing to pay tedious. I just put things in my pockets.”

Dean grins at Cas. Attaboy.

“Wow. Okay. Wow. Uh, next one is how well do you communicate?”

To their credit, both Dean and Castiel wince.

“Uh. You know,” Dean starts, and doesn’t get any further. But the thing is that they’re great at talking. He never tires of their conversation. It’s just that historically speaking they’ve been pretty bad at talking about the big and important things. Communicating their feelings and such, but that just makes them your average red-blooded American male.

“Making progress,” Castiel lies smoothly, and Dean nods along. Sure. Yeah.

“Yeah, yeah. Do you share the same values?”

“For the most part,” Castiel says. Dean shifts uncomfortably. Shared values was kind of what made them fall into the same foxhole in the first place, but… they’ve had their disagreements through the years, that's for sure.

“Where it matters,” Dean says. “Sort of.” Maybe they can work on that too.

“Are you –” Sam abruptly stops. “Maybe we should skip this one.” “No, come on.”

“I don’t actually want to know the answer. It says: are you sexually compatible? But that’s not even relevant...”

Castiel suddenly seems very invested in inspecting his own hands, and Dean – Dean is also looking at Castiel’s hands, why is he doing that, what… what did Sam say, again?

“Come again?”

“Do you… are you… whatever, who cares, let’s do the next one,” Sam says quickly.

“No, no, we gotta take this seriously,” Dean hears himself say. “Sex, that’s just… part of marriage, makes sense. Even if we’re just talking hypothetically.”

“I believe we’d be compatible,” Castiel says gravelly, still not looking at Dean.

“What? What makes you say that?” Has Castiel seriously thought about this? “You’ve thought about this?” How? In what capacity? Purely academically, like a thought experiment? Or has he fantasized about it?

“No,” Castiel says sullenly, but holy shit, he has. Dean stares at him. Dean’ll admit the thought has occurred to him once or twice. Or maybe more than that, but hey. The man is good-looking. Dean’s only human.

“Moving on,” Sam interrupts loudly before Dean has the chance to ask Castiel what the fuck he meant. “Uh… do you like your partner enough to spend forever with them?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. Duh. He’s already planning on spending the rest of his life with Castiel anyway. What, it’s not like he’s going to leave him and go settle down with someone else. He used to think he wanted that, to find a nice girl and get a house or something, but turns out what he really wanted was a home base and being surrounded by the people he loves. Sure, it’d be nice to get a proper house someday, if they could wing it, but he wouldn’t want it unless it involved Cas somehow. And it’s not just because Cas is family and because of everything they’ve been through together. He likes Cas. Cas is his best friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Castiel is finally looking at him, something thoughtful in his eyes.

“Dude,” Dean says. “Come on. Don’t leave me hanging like this.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Castiel says, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Awesome. So I’m good for, what? Giving you rides and feeding you? But not good enough for the long haul?”

“Ha, Cas doesn’t like you,” Sam taunts.

“Yeah, now I know how you feel,” Dean replies, and that shuts him up.

“Forever is a very long time,” Castiel says. “When you claim that you’d tolerate my existence ‘forever’, what you mean is for the remainder of your life, which is about fifty or so years. Forever for me would literally mean forever.”

“And you’d get sick of me, blah blah, I get it.” He wouldn’t be the first to get sick of Dean. It’s not like he doesn’t get it. But it doesn’t feel fucking great to hear it.

Castiel sighs.

“Dean, you have to know that I would spend forever with you.”

“You just said you had to think about it.”

“Yes, but the answer was always going to be yes.”

“Look, this… this obviously won’t be a real marriage, so it’s not like… it’s not like it matters.”

Sam clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well, if it was, you’d… well, I can’t really believe this, but according to the quiz, you’d have a pretty high success rate.”

Dean’s not blushing. It’s just getting kinda hot in here, isn’t it?

“Whatever,” he mutters.

“It’s not ‘whatever’”, Castiel grouches. “It’s our marriage.”

“Our fake marriage.”

“That is legally binding in the United States of America.”

“Whatever, let’s just get it over with,” Dean says. Castiel sits up on the bed.

“Is that how you’re going to propose to me? ‘Let’s just get it over with’?”

“You think you deserve some kind of grand gesture?” Dean scoffs, but he feels a little bad about it. Cas probably does deserve a grand gesture. “Alright, but I’m not getting down on one knee.”

“No, of course not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” “It means, Dean, that you’ve made it very clear that you don’t want this.” Castiel says, exasperation coloring every word.

“I do want it!” Dean argues. “I do!” He gets up from his chair and kneels in front of Castiel’s bed. “Fine! I’m literally on my knees here, dude. Will you marry me or what?”

“Yes,” Castiel says quickly, and his eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed and somewhere in the background Sam is letting out an obnoxious “aww” and Dean’s heart is kinda racing. He just proposed to someone. And not just anyone. To... to his guy, to his person. Fake or not, the moment feels pretty real.

“Okay. Good,” Dean says, and he doesn’t know what the etiquette is now. “I don’t have a ring or anything.”

“That’s alright,” Castiel says, still smiling.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean says. It’s not real. This isn’t a real engagement. “Fiancé.”

Castiel’s smile is blinding and the softness in his eyes... yeah, that looks pretty real too.

#supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #queue

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