Goin' To The Chapel
Strange, to think that this wedding day felt more right than the first one.
Did this mean she'd been married twice or just once, with an interruption?
Cassie wasn't even nervous as she waited in line with Dean, paperwork in its manila envelope tucked under one arm, the hallway silent except for the echo of the occasional set of footsteps as people left, came and left again. Dean was a little jittery, but way less than he had been the night before, the first time. Or maybe he was just less obnoxious about it.
They were holding hands. She'd gotten comfortable with her hand tucked in his big, broad palm these days. For a little while there, back then, it had been stifling.
The past few days she'd been thinking about how they were now, as compared to how they were then. For one thing, Dean seemed far more tired now. Everything he'd been through and most recently this shit with Sammy was taking its toll on him. For another -- and maybe it was just that she was only now seeing it -- he was hurting. She could see it in the tightness around his eyes and the way his back was hunched and shoulders knotted. She could hear it in his voice. And maybe it wasn't that she was only now seeing it, maybe there was just more of it, but either way she didn't react to his sarcasm and his aggressive jerkish behavior as she'd used to. It was easier to see, now, where it came from, and it was easier to allow for it and even if she bit back when he snapped at her, the fights were small and quickly over. And then there was holding, and quiet apologies, and soothing.
They fought less, even so. They snapped at each other less, there was more of the quiet nights sitting in with dinners, takeout or otherwise, and television and curling upon the couch than there were the nights where someone stormed out slamming the door. Actually, since they'd gotten back together, there wasn't any storming out or slamming of doors at all.
It was nice. Really, truly nice.
This, she decided, as the next couple was called and they moved a little forward in the line, was what marriage was supposed to be. What their marriage should have been the first time. No, it wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't peaceful, but it was theirs.
That was another thing that was different, Cassie decided, as they were called up next. This felt like her marriage instead of like she was just a guest in Dean's life. All the things he hadn't told her, all the ways she hadn't felt able to trust him. It was better now. Easier.
And now it was her turn to sign the papework again, and say a few words, and promise to do all the things they'd failed at the first time. This time, they were older, wiser.
They certainly were older, and they were wiser, but in Dean's mind, that didn't necessarily guarantee that they would be better. Dean may have worked through some of his old issues and grown up a little from the last time they were married but he was still Dean, which still meant he had a very large penchant for him to screw up. Add to the fact that Sam was Sam and he was tired -- very tired -- and Dean knew he had a lot of work to do before they were okay.
But at least he had a goal this time.
He was still nervous as they waited for their turn in the judge's chamber, his fingers drumming out Metallica against the side of his thigh as he kept glancing up and down the hallway. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for exactly, but it was something to do that silenced the cop instincts in the back of his mind. "I friggin' hate waiting."
She reached up and rubbed a hand over the back of his shoulder. He hated waiting, she was a little more patient than he was, often had to be, but not much. And this was a big thing. "Could be worse," she told him wryly. "Could be waiting for something less..." Less what? Pleasant? Nice? Welcome? She wasn't sure how to finish it and just shrugged.
Cassie would be relieved when this was over, too, though. When they had the paperwork done and filed and everything was done and it was one more thing she could stop worrying about. Yes, a part of her was still feeling that girlish glee at being married, being a wife again, but the rest of her was just exhausted and worried and ready for this to be over so they would have one less thing to deal with.
And she also sometimes, still, wanted to ask him if he was sure this was what he wanted. If he was sure he wanted to try again. But inviting more doubt into their lives wasn't what she wanted to do either.
"Anyway, this'll be over soon, and we can get back. What else did you want to get done today?"
Dean raised an eyebrow at her with a bit of a smirk. He needed to joke. It would take his mind off things and would keep him from panicking and running out the door. "We were supposed to do other stuff today? Aren't the husband and wife supposed to go home and have lots of really, really hot sex?"
"That's the theory," Cassie replied, smirking a little but also kind of hopeful. And serious, too. Even about this, she was taking their relationship slowly and seriously. As boyfriend and girlfriend and as husband and wife.
She reached up, grinning, running her fingers through his short-cropped hair, down the back of his neck. "I don't know, are you up for taking the rest of the day off to have really, really hot sex?"
Did this mean she'd been married twice or just once, with an interruption?
Cassie wasn't even nervous as she waited in line with Dean, paperwork in its manila envelope tucked under one arm, the hallway silent except for the echo of the occasional set of footsteps as people left, came and left again. Dean was a little jittery, but way less than he had been the night before, the first time. Or maybe he was just less obnoxious about it.
They were holding hands. She'd gotten comfortable with her hand tucked in his big, broad palm these days. For a little while there, back then, it had been stifling.
The past few days she'd been thinking about how they were now, as compared to how they were then. For one thing, Dean seemed far more tired now. Everything he'd been through and most recently this shit with Sammy was taking its toll on him. For another -- and maybe it was just that she was only now seeing it -- he was hurting. She could see it in the tightness around his eyes and the way his back was hunched and shoulders knotted. She could hear it in his voice. And maybe it wasn't that she was only now seeing it, maybe there was just more of it, but either way she didn't react to his sarcasm and his aggressive jerkish behavior as she'd used to. It was easier to see, now, where it came from, and it was easier to allow for it and even if she bit back when he snapped at her, the fights were small and quickly over. And then there was holding, and quiet apologies, and soothing.
They fought less, even so. They snapped at each other less, there was more of the quiet nights sitting in with dinners, takeout or otherwise, and television and curling upon the couch than there were the nights where someone stormed out slamming the door. Actually, since they'd gotten back together, there wasn't any storming out or slamming of doors at all.
It was nice. Really, truly nice.
This, she decided, as the next couple was called and they moved a little forward in the line, was what marriage was supposed to be. What their marriage should have been the first time. No, it wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't peaceful, but it was theirs.
That was another thing that was different, Cassie decided, as they were called up next. This felt like her marriage instead of like she was just a guest in Dean's life. All the things he hadn't told her, all the ways she hadn't felt able to trust him. It was better now. Easier.
And now it was her turn to sign the papework again, and say a few words, and promise to do all the things they'd failed at the first time. This time, they were older, wiser.
They certainly were older, and they were wiser, but in Dean's mind, that didn't necessarily guarantee that they would be better. Dean may have worked through some of his old issues and grown up a little from the last time they were married but he was still Dean, which still meant he had a very large penchant for him to screw up. Add to the fact that Sam was Sam and he was tired -- very tired -- and Dean knew he had a lot of work to do before they were okay.
But at least he had a goal this time.
He was still nervous as they waited for their turn in the judge's chamber, his fingers drumming out Metallica against the side of his thigh as he kept glancing up and down the hallway. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for exactly, but it was something to do that silenced the cop instincts in the back of his mind. "I friggin' hate waiting."
She reached up and rubbed a hand over the back of his shoulder. He hated waiting, she was a little more patient than he was, often had to be, but not much. And this was a big thing. "Could be worse," she told him wryly. "Could be waiting for something less..." Less what? Pleasant? Nice? Welcome? She wasn't sure how to finish it and just shrugged.
Cassie would be relieved when this was over, too, though. When they had the paperwork done and filed and everything was done and it was one more thing she could stop worrying about. Yes, a part of her was still feeling that girlish glee at being married, being a wife again, but the rest of her was just exhausted and worried and ready for this to be over so they would have one less thing to deal with.
And she also sometimes, still, wanted to ask him if he was sure this was what he wanted. If he was sure he wanted to try again. But inviting more doubt into their lives wasn't what she wanted to do either.
"Anyway, this'll be over soon, and we can get back. What else did you want to get done today?"
Dean raised an eyebrow at her with a bit of a smirk. He needed to joke. It would take his mind off things and would keep him from panicking and running out the door. "We were supposed to do other stuff today? Aren't the husband and wife supposed to go home and have lots of really, really hot sex?"
"That's the theory," Cassie replied, smirking a little but also kind of hopeful. And serious, too. Even about this, she was taking their relationship slowly and seriously. As boyfriend and girlfriend and as husband and wife.
She reached up, grinning, running her fingers through his short-cropped hair, down the back of his neck. "I don't know, are you up for taking the rest of the day off to have really, really hot sex?"