FIC - Marriage by Decree for the Let's Get Gay Married comment-fic meme
title: Marriage by Decree
pairing: Sam/Dean
rating: R
a/n: Written for keerawa in response to her prompt at the Let’s Get Gay Married comment-meme
summary: Our new Godstiel has some demands.
“I have given you all that is required,”, pronounced Castiel, or God, as he liked to be called nowadays. “You have the legal documentation that is necessary in any of the states that legally allow same-sex partners to marry. There are, at my last count, six of them, so you have your choice. No one need know that you are blood kin, and I have grown impatient with your reluctance to follow my instructions. As your Lord, I have no objection to your incestuous relationship, but your unwillingness to seal it in the bonds of holy matrimony has grown tiresome. My patience is not endless. You have one month. Do as I have commanded, and you will be spared my wrath.”
With those words, Castiel was gone. Dean and Sam looked at each other for the millionth time since this subject had been raised, not knowing what to say. They knew they’d been lucky not to have their former friend strike them with some kind of holy bolt of lightning or something up to this point, but it was clear that it was time to get a move on as far as planning the wedding.
“I’m not wearing a dress, dude.” Sam spoke first, with his chin up and his shoulders squared.
“You’re the one with the long hair, Samantha. If one of us has to wear a dress, it’s you, man”, Dean responded with a glint of humor in his green eyes.
“Best I can remember, the only one of us who’s ever put on panties and a dress is you, jerk.”
Dean flushed at that memory at the same time that he was aroused by it. “Fine. Whatever, bitch, neither of us wears a dress, agreed?”
Sam accepted the concession, and decision #1 was made. They’d both wear normal clothes, maybe a shirt with a collar that was ironed and not wrinkled. No suits or ties for either of them, and no stupid fucking dress shoes or flowers pinned onto their shirts.
The next day, they sat staring at a map of the United States of America, going back and forth about which would be the best one to ride Dean’s baby into for this particular endeavor.
“Seriously Sammy, Connecticut, Vermont, Massachusetts and New Hampshire are practically all the same thing”, Dean pointed out, and he did have some validity in that argument. They were all kind of crowded together.
“Why do they all have to be cold states?”, lamented Sam, who detested cold weather.
“Well, maybe if we wait out the month that Cas gave us, they’ll legalize gay marriage in Alabama or North Carolina”, responded Dean with a Sam-worthy eyeroll and bitchface. “And I fucking hate D.C., you know how I feel about those gigantic cities.”
Suddenly, Castiel appeared before them, looking no different than he always had, like he was confused and annoyed at the bickering. “All right then, Iowa it is”, He stated, before disappearing as quickly as he’d shown up.
All right, then, indeed. Fucking Iowa, Whatever. Decision #2, done.
As they made the 14-hour drive, more details had to be sorted out. The chance of just going in front of a judge was out, since Castiel had insisted on “holy matrimony”, which ruled out a civil ceremony. They’d have to find a church, which Sam didn’t object to but Dean was being pretty obstinate about, not surprisingly.
“You know churches give me hives, Sam. They make me feel all itchy and freaked out.”
“Come on, Dean, it’s not like we have to go to Our Lady of A Million Sorrows and sit through an hour and a half-long Catholic wedding Mass. We can find some little Unitarian place and get it done in twenty minutes. Quit being such a baby.”
Once again, the air crackled and when Dean looked in the rear-view mirror, he saw Cas sitting in the back seat of the Impala. He (yeah, they guessed the capitalized He was required now) handed Sam a piece of paper with the name and address of a non-denominational Christian church in Dexter, Iowa, along with the phone number of the pastor. “You should call ahead, and arrange an appropriate date and time for your ceremony.” And again, He was gone as quickly as He had appeared.
So, there was decision #3, the location where their vows would be exchanged.
Now, another decision had to be made. You couldn’t have a legal wedding without witnesses, even if you were just doing it in a courthouse. They were going to have to call Bobby. It wasn’t like Bobby didn’t know about Dean and Sam, they’d just never discussed it. So when they checked into their motel in Dexter, they decided to settle the matter of who was calling Bobby the mature, rational way. Rock paper scissors, obviously.
They didn’t even get to the point where Dean inevitably chose scissors before Cas appeared in front of them again, informing them that He’d already instructed Bobby to meet them there the next day, and to bring someone with him so that there would be two legal witnesses to sign the marriage certificate.
Decision #4, clearly, had already been made for them. Bobby met them the next day in a diner four blocks from the motel, and there was a chick with him. Kind of a hot chick, for being Bobby’s age, and she was introduced in a mumble as “my friend Christine”, without further explanation. Woah. Bobby was getting it on with this chick, clearly. Score.
Once Sam had made the phone call to the pastor, the date was set for the following Thursday afternoon at 3pm. At first it seemed odd, but then Dean and Sam figured that if only six out of fifty states, forty of them having made it explicitly illegal, allowed same-sex marriage, the churches in those few states were probably booked solid.
Bobby had gone out over the next few days separately with Dean and Sam to help them with choosing the rings they would exchange. It was…awkward, to say the least, but Bobby came through, pointing out what he thought each brother would like or not like without any comment on the proceedings. So, by the end of Tuesday afternoon, decision #5 had been made, and rings had been chosen.
The next night, Castiel appeared again, handing Sam a key to a different room in the same motel. “It is my understanding”, He said, “that people who are to be married are not to see each other on the day of their wedding until the ceremony begins. Sam, you will go to this room, and you will not see Dean again until you meet at the church tomorrow afternoon.”
Bobby and Christine spent Thursday traveling back and forth between the two motel rooms as Dean examined his shirt for any sign that there might be a wrinkle in it, obsessively asking Bobby whether or not he was sure he has both rings. and Sam fussed with his hair in an attempt to make it look as not-girly as possible.
Without anyone else knowing, decision #6 had already been agreed upon by Dean and Sam, bereft of outside influence. They stood together at the front of the small church, and listened to the pastor’s words about the implications of the bond that was being forged in this ceremony, then asked both men to recite their vows. It didn’t take long.
“Dean, when I take my very last breath, I will love you.”
“Sam, when I take my very last breath, I will love you.”
The rings were exchanged, the words were spoken, and just like that, they were married.
As the small wedding party walked out of the church, Cas appeared to them once again, His words now soft and endearing, “Go to the bar two blocks down on the left. You will find that your tab is pre-paid. I know I should not love you more than I love anyone else, Sam and Dean, but I do. Thank you for binding your love with holy matrimony”, He said, before disappearing once again.
“Like we had any other choice...”, Dean started to say, but then he looked at his brother, and looked at their rings, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He took Sam’s hand, and they ambled down the street with the most genuine happiness either of them had felt in a very long time.
When they got back to the motel, back to their one room, and said good night to Bobby and Christine (who also shared one room and didn’t seem to have any trouble with Cas bossing them around about sex outside the bounds of marriage), Sam stopped in front of the door and stood stock-still, staring at Dean.
“What, Sam? You want to go back to the bar? ‘Cause I was thinking wedding-night sex was on the agenda for tonight. A lot of it.”
“Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?, Sam asked, barely able to contain his tipsy giggling.
“Hell no, you fucking giant, I’m not carrying your Sasquatch ass anywhere. Come on.”
Sam grabbed the key from Dean’s hand and moved faster than either of them thought he could, scooping his…his Dean… up into his arms, smiling the widest and most genuine smile Dean had seen on his face in at least a year.
“Fine, jerk, I’ll do it then.”
He deposited Dean onto the bed threw the key aside, kicked the door shut with the back of his shoe, and laid down next to his husband. “Love you”, he whispered against Dean’s neck.
“Love you.”, Dean replied, “Now can we get to the wedding-night sex? ‘Cause I’ve heard it rocks.”
pairing: Sam/Dean
rating: R
a/n: Written for keerawa in response to her prompt at the Let’s Get Gay Married comment-meme
summary: Our new Godstiel has some demands.
“I have given you all that is required,”, pronounced Castiel, or God, as he liked to be called nowadays. “You have the legal documentation that is necessary in any of the states that legally allow same-sex partners to marry. There are, at my last count, six of them, so you have your choice. No one need know that you are blood kin, and I have grown impatient with your reluctance to follow my instructions. As your Lord, I have no objection to your incestuous relationship, but your unwillingness to seal it in the bonds of holy matrimony has grown tiresome. My patience is not endless. You have one month. Do as I have commanded, and you will be spared my wrath.”
With those words, Castiel was gone. Dean and Sam looked at each other for the millionth time since this subject had been raised, not knowing what to say. They knew they’d been lucky not to have their former friend strike them with some kind of holy bolt of lightning or something up to this point, but it was clear that it was time to get a move on as far as planning the wedding.
“I’m not wearing a dress, dude.” Sam spoke first, with his chin up and his shoulders squared.
“You’re the one with the long hair, Samantha. If one of us has to wear a dress, it’s you, man”, Dean responded with a glint of humor in his green eyes.
“Best I can remember, the only one of us who’s ever put on panties and a dress is you, jerk.”
Dean flushed at that memory at the same time that he was aroused by it. “Fine. Whatever, bitch, neither of us wears a dress, agreed?”
Sam accepted the concession, and decision #1 was made. They’d both wear normal clothes, maybe a shirt with a collar that was ironed and not wrinkled. No suits or ties for either of them, and no stupid fucking dress shoes or flowers pinned onto their shirts.
The next day, they sat staring at a map of the United States of America, going back and forth about which would be the best one to ride Dean’s baby into for this particular endeavor.
“Seriously Sammy, Connecticut, Vermont, Massachusetts and New Hampshire are practically all the same thing”, Dean pointed out, and he did have some validity in that argument. They were all kind of crowded together.
“Why do they all have to be cold states?”, lamented Sam, who detested cold weather.
“Well, maybe if we wait out the month that Cas gave us, they’ll legalize gay marriage in Alabama or North Carolina”, responded Dean with a Sam-worthy eyeroll and bitchface. “And I fucking hate D.C., you know how I feel about those gigantic cities.”
Suddenly, Castiel appeared before them, looking no different than he always had, like he was confused and annoyed at the bickering. “All right then, Iowa it is”, He stated, before disappearing as quickly as he’d shown up.
All right, then, indeed. Fucking Iowa, Whatever. Decision #2, done.
As they made the 14-hour drive, more details had to be sorted out. The chance of just going in front of a judge was out, since Castiel had insisted on “holy matrimony”, which ruled out a civil ceremony. They’d have to find a church, which Sam didn’t object to but Dean was being pretty obstinate about, not surprisingly.
“You know churches give me hives, Sam. They make me feel all itchy and freaked out.”
“Come on, Dean, it’s not like we have to go to Our Lady of A Million Sorrows and sit through an hour and a half-long Catholic wedding Mass. We can find some little Unitarian place and get it done in twenty minutes. Quit being such a baby.”
Once again, the air crackled and when Dean looked in the rear-view mirror, he saw Cas sitting in the back seat of the Impala. He (yeah, they guessed the capitalized He was required now) handed Sam a piece of paper with the name and address of a non-denominational Christian church in Dexter, Iowa, along with the phone number of the pastor. “You should call ahead, and arrange an appropriate date and time for your ceremony.” And again, He was gone as quickly as He had appeared.
So, there was decision #3, the location where their vows would be exchanged.
Now, another decision had to be made. You couldn’t have a legal wedding without witnesses, even if you were just doing it in a courthouse. They were going to have to call Bobby. It wasn’t like Bobby didn’t know about Dean and Sam, they’d just never discussed it. So when they checked into their motel in Dexter, they decided to settle the matter of who was calling Bobby the mature, rational way. Rock paper scissors, obviously.
They didn’t even get to the point where Dean inevitably chose scissors before Cas appeared in front of them again, informing them that He’d already instructed Bobby to meet them there the next day, and to bring someone with him so that there would be two legal witnesses to sign the marriage certificate.
Decision #4, clearly, had already been made for them. Bobby met them the next day in a diner four blocks from the motel, and there was a chick with him. Kind of a hot chick, for being Bobby’s age, and she was introduced in a mumble as “my friend Christine”, without further explanation. Woah. Bobby was getting it on with this chick, clearly. Score.
Once Sam had made the phone call to the pastor, the date was set for the following Thursday afternoon at 3pm. At first it seemed odd, but then Dean and Sam figured that if only six out of fifty states, forty of them having made it explicitly illegal, allowed same-sex marriage, the churches in those few states were probably booked solid.
Bobby had gone out over the next few days separately with Dean and Sam to help them with choosing the rings they would exchange. It was…awkward, to say the least, but Bobby came through, pointing out what he thought each brother would like or not like without any comment on the proceedings. So, by the end of Tuesday afternoon, decision #5 had been made, and rings had been chosen.
The next night, Castiel appeared again, handing Sam a key to a different room in the same motel. “It is my understanding”, He said, “that people who are to be married are not to see each other on the day of their wedding until the ceremony begins. Sam, you will go to this room, and you will not see Dean again until you meet at the church tomorrow afternoon.”
Bobby and Christine spent Thursday traveling back and forth between the two motel rooms as Dean examined his shirt for any sign that there might be a wrinkle in it, obsessively asking Bobby whether or not he was sure he has both rings. and Sam fussed with his hair in an attempt to make it look as not-girly as possible.
Without anyone else knowing, decision #6 had already been agreed upon by Dean and Sam, bereft of outside influence. They stood together at the front of the small church, and listened to the pastor’s words about the implications of the bond that was being forged in this ceremony, then asked both men to recite their vows. It didn’t take long.
“Dean, when I take my very last breath, I will love you.”
“Sam, when I take my very last breath, I will love you.”
The rings were exchanged, the words were spoken, and just like that, they were married.
As the small wedding party walked out of the church, Cas appeared to them once again, His words now soft and endearing, “Go to the bar two blocks down on the left. You will find that your tab is pre-paid. I know I should not love you more than I love anyone else, Sam and Dean, but I do. Thank you for binding your love with holy matrimony”, He said, before disappearing once again.
“Like we had any other choice...”, Dean started to say, but then he looked at his brother, and looked at their rings, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He took Sam’s hand, and they ambled down the street with the most genuine happiness either of them had felt in a very long time.
When they got back to the motel, back to their one room, and said good night to Bobby and Christine (who also shared one room and didn’t seem to have any trouble with Cas bossing them around about sex outside the bounds of marriage), Sam stopped in front of the door and stood stock-still, staring at Dean.
“What, Sam? You want to go back to the bar? ‘Cause I was thinking wedding-night sex was on the agenda for tonight. A lot of it.”
“Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?, Sam asked, barely able to contain his tipsy giggling.
“Hell no, you fucking giant, I’m not carrying your Sasquatch ass anywhere. Come on.”
Sam grabbed the key from Dean’s hand and moved faster than either of them thought he could, scooping his…his Dean… up into his arms, smiling the widest and most genuine smile Dean had seen on his face in at least a year.
“Fine, jerk, I’ll do it then.”
He deposited Dean onto the bed threw the key aside, kicked the door shut with the back of his shoe, and laid down next to his husband. “Love you”, he whispered against Dean’s neck.
“Love you.”, Dean replied, “Now can we get to the wedding-night sex? ‘Cause I’ve heard it rocks.”