#a bastardization of everything he is

[andi-o-geyser]

“we’re doing another groundbreaking storyline with batman fighting his greatest enemy, the joker-” pack it up.

[cryptidmickle]

shadow milk finding pv when he was healer cookie is so interesting to me, and full of drama

[shanklin]

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[egophiliac]

You can’t pick Lilia for this. But who is your other favorite short character in Twst?

I like the angry little king boy 🌹

[fratercrucis]

if someone is being mean to sam winchester then this is what I do

[seilon]

god fucking damn i forgot just how natural and impactful merle and john hunger’s parley conversations are. like genuinely i don’t think any full-on conversations in the podcast compare. clint waited 62 episodes and then just dropped some of the best roleplaying in the series out of the fucking blue. absolutely incredible

[mollysunder]

I don't think we've ever thoroughly unpacked how messed up the way Heimerdinger "comforted" Viktor. The only thing that Heimerdinger could really say is that the "brightest stars burn the fastest", but that's not what's going on here.

Viktor's dying from an unnatural cause!!! He's been poisoned by gas from the mines Piltover excavated in Zaun. This isn't a tragedy caused by random chance, Viktor's condition was done to him by Piltover, by Heimerdinger!

Heimerdinger is essentially comforting his own victim, and he tells Viktor that his death is just the way things are, as if there's no responsible parties involved except fate itself. I wonder if Viktor thought about this himself while Heimerdinger was talking to him. What a truly genuinely awful moment for him to sit through.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

Jedi Antis: The Jedi are too caught up in politics! They have power to change things, they just don't!

Meanwhile, the Jedi:

Every time they argue with a politician, they are shot down.

I wonder what that could mean? That maybe they don't have as much political power as the antis seem to believe? That maybe *gasp* they were meant to be the victims of Palpatine's manipulation the whole time?

[GIFs aren't mine. Credit to @david-talks-sw ]

[royalarchivist]

Fit: Oh yeah, the great outdoors! All we need is a can of beans, and we'll have a good time.

Phil: There's two empty seats, I can't remember what– who they're for though. [Snorts then leans off-screen and laughs]

Fit: [Slowly realizes what Phil said] ...No. No. No. No! No! NO! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS RIGHT NOW! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS, PHIL. Ok? We are not doing this.

Sneeg: Do you wanna talk about it...?

Phil: [Continues laughing]

Fit: No man, this- this man thinks trauma is funny. He thinks trauma is funny– He thinks interpersonal emotional trauma is funny! Yeah, we're all laughing, Phil. We're all laughing. Yeah– [Monotone voice] "Hahaha! So funny." So funny. So funny.

Sneeg: Alright, bro. Why don't you go–

Fit: Gaslight girlboss, right? Yeah, that's what we do, that's what we do.

Phil: Oh my god– [Exhales and laughs] That tickled me, that was a good one. Uh, right–

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Sirius caused the longest hat stall in Hogwarts history when he was sorted, by the way

[ilynpilled]

Wait, it's been a long time since I read ASOIAF, but did Jaime flopping at Joffreys nameday journey change the history of Westeros? (In addition to leaving Ser Addam Bongwater destitute). Cause Littlefinger lost the Catspaw dagger to Robert in a bet, which was then used in the Joffrey ordered assasination of Bran, which lead to Catelyn taking Tyrion prisoner.

The flop heard around the world.

everything that ever happened in the history of asoiaf is a result of an action jaime did or did not take once he can be blamed for everything ever

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[potatobugz]

here is a collection of riptide drawings that i made a while ago but never posted ^_^

[satoblue]

you vs satoru except you’re mad at him so you refer to him as mr gojo the whole day bc you refuse to call him by the usual sweet and sappy nicknames out of spite so he one ups you and returns the favor but instead of using your maiden name he says mrs gojo

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[noxemma]

First comes love a kid(napping), then comes a marriage ... Yeah, they're definitely doing things in the wrong order, but maybe, if they're lucky, they can figure out how to reverse their way into something real.

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

———

Thank you all for the comments and reblogs. I honestly didn't expect so many people to enjoy my little spin on colorlessjay's story idea and I'm really flattered. Hopefully, this next part lives up to the others and thanks for continuing to read! ———

Blackbird singing in the dead of night ... "I should, um, that, that's Jack, so I should-" Cas stutters an explanation as he grabs for his phone but it slips off the nightstand, the Beatles continuing to croon from the ground.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise

"Jack, hey buddy! How did everything go last night?" "Great! Mr. Sam is awesome, even if he did make me go to bed at nine. He helped me with my math homework and this morning he made something yummy for breakfast. It's a piece of bread and you cut a hole out of it, then put the egg- Oh, hi Mr. Dean!" Cas turns the phone and Dean sees the kid's face fill the screen. "Oh, uh, hi Jack!" Dean gives a little wave, smile blooming because it's nearly impossible not to at the boy's infectious enthusiasm. "Sounds like you had a good time with Sam. He didn't burn it did he? Last time he tried to make them he almost burned down the whole house." "No, I did not!" Sam barks. Jack's giggling is almost loud enough to drown him out as the image blurs, and he's replaced by Sam.

"Glad to see Egg-in-a-Nest is still a fan favorite," Dean laughs, leaning over the bed closer to Cas so he doesn't have to keep stretching back awkwardly and they can both get into view.

"Yeah, well, I figured if it worked on me as a kid ... well, Jack just wanted to say hi and make sure you guys made it okay," Sam says, but Dean notices a weird tone in his voice and a squinting of his eyes. "Dean, are you-?"

He's suddenly very self-conscious about the fact that neither he nor Cas have shirts on.

"Right, well, uh, why don't you give the phone back to Cas so he and Jack can talk. I'll call you in a minute," Dean says to Sam who nods, before Dean turns to whisper to Cas. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab my bag so I can change. Can I have the keycard?"

"Oh! Of course. I got one for both of us; I must have forgotten to tell you last night. Yours should be on the table by the coffee maker," Cas murmurs back, eyes so close he can almost map the waves of dark blue in his irises. "Thanks," Dean breathes, frozen in place until Cas turns his head to respond to Jack's barrage of questions. "How long was the drive? How far away is Las Vegas? Have you seen Uncle Gabe yet?"

He hightails it out the door only stopping long enough to grab the essentials and opting for the safety of a door between him and the attractive professor before slowing down to pull on his dirty t-shirt and shoes.

Even before he's in the elevator his phone is buzzing, and he knows it's Sam. "Hey, Sammy," Dean answers with false brightness as he jabs the button for the lobby. "Don't 'Hey, Sammy' me, Dean. Please tell me you didn't sleep with my professor." Dean opens his mouth but Sam barrels on, "And don't tell me you didn't because I have eyes. You were both shirtless! In the same bed! And I'm pretty sure you don't own grey sweats or orange underwear!"

"How the fuck do you know what underwear I'm wearing?"

"Like I said: eyes. I saw you get off the bed before I handed the phone back to Jack. Now, I want answers."

"Look, I didn't sleep with him. I mean I did, but just because there was a mix up with the room and ours only had one bed. Both of us were so exhausted last night, or rather this morning, that it didn't seem worth the effort to figure it out." "And the clothes?"

Dean sighs and watches the digital number decrease.

"I desperately needed a shower but didn't realize I'd forgotten my bag in the car. Cas over-packed and lent me some clothes," Dean explains, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and stop the headache he feels coming on. "Look, I promise I'm not looking to hook-up with your English professor, no matter how hot he is. I'm just here to play fake fiancé as a favor and maybe get a little extra padding for your tuition fund, okay?" Dean tells Sam, not particularly interested in analyzing why telling the truth feels so much like a lie.

He opens his eyes to find the elevator doors open he steps off only to bump straight into a guy who walks in without waiting to let anyone off. Dean curses as the jolt sends his phone skittering across the fancy marble floor.

"Watch where you're going," the man snarls, lip curling disdainfully as he takes in Dean's outfit. "Bite me!" Dean barks back, rubbing his arm and bending to pick up his phone, sighing in relief when there are miraculously no cracks.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam's worried voice calls from the speaker.

"Hey, sorry. Some entitled asshole knocked the phone out of my hand-"

"What did you mean 'fake fiancé'?"

Crap, I totally forgot to tell him about that little change in plan.

"Right, so the thing is ..."

Dean explains the whole backstory that Cas had told him about Jack while he grabs his bag and the shoes from Baby.

"Look, Sam. I know what I'm doing, okay? I promise I won't kill anyone or anything and even if I do, I know a great kid lawyer who'll get me out." "I'm not a lawyer yet," Sam groans before finally heaving a resigned sigh. "Just don't hurt yourself or Professor Novak, okay?" "You have my word, bitch." "Yeah, yeah. Call me later, jerk."

The bathroom door is closed and Cas is nowhere in sight, so Dean just starts changing. He's just pulling his burgundy overshirt on overtop the plain black tee he may or may not have picked because it clung a bit to his arms and chest, emphasizing the muscle there, when Cas comes out of the bathroom. Dean hasn't known the man long, but he feels confident that Cas is uncomfortable in the get-up. He has on khaki pants and a light blue button up with a tan striped tie that is somehow twisted backwards. His hair is tamed and there has to be some sort of product in it to keep the whisps and curls under control.

"Uh, you look- Should I change? I don't think I have anything that could be considered, what is that? Tax accountant chic?" Dean teases but only to stop himself from worrying about how woefully underdressed he's going to look in comparison. "No! Er, no. You look wonderful," Cas rushes as he glances over Dean once, then slows down for a more in-depth perusal that has Dean's blood heating again. "If I wanted you to change, I wouldn't be dating you." "You're not dating me," Dean mutters, wincing at how petulant it sounds and hoping Cas doesn't pick up on it. "Dean, if I wanted someone to play pretentious boyfriend, I could have invited Mick. My parents would probably love him, but I would never actually date someone like him." Cas trails off, clearly uncomfortable and trying to figure out what to say, but all Dean's mind can think is:

"You wouldn't date him, but you'd date me?"

"I may not have known you for very long, but I can tell that you are a kind, hardworking man who cares about your brother and the feelings of others," Dean tries to keep breathing as Cas continues on, getting closer until he's right in front of Dean, "You're smart, funny, intelligent, and I think I could probably talk to you for hours. So, yes, I would date someone like you."

The warmth that blossoms at Cas' proximity and flattering description of him cools to lukewarm at the two extra words that change the entire meaning of Cas' little speech.

Right. 'cause Cas would never date me either, just 'someone like me'.

"Uh, thanks, Cas. I always appreciate compliments and it's good to know my first impression didn't do irreparable damage to your opinion of me. I think you're pretty great too and I've enjoyed getting to know you," Dean reciprocates, forcing the palatable pieces of the truth out of his mouth, the rest, like how he's opened up more to Cas than he has to anyone else in years, sticks painfully behind his teeth and under his tongue. "Of, of course, Dean," Cas says, brow slightly furrowed as if he can sense something is off about Dean's response but can't quite pinpoint it.

Thankfully, Cas' phone starts ringing, this time blaring an old version of the Candy Man. "Gabriel, we are headed out now. No! Do not strangle Balthazar, he is allowed to dislike Celine Dion," Cas rolls his eyes at Dean, quiet for a few moments as Gabriel speaks. "Yes, he will be joining us for brunch, though not if you keep calling him that. Fine. We'll see you soon."

"So, uh, are we driving to this place or ...?"

"Oh, no. My parents are having it catered in the penthouse," Cas tosses out like it means nothing. "Oh, the penthouse. Great," Dean grumbles as he follows Cas out.

———

Before Cas even gets his hand up to knock on the penthouse door, it swings open. "Castiel, thank god you're finally here. If I have to hear Bal talk about how much he hates Titanic one more time, I swear I just might have to take drastic measures." "Good morning, Gabriel. Glad to see you're not overreacting," Cas says dryly, rolling his eyes. Dean peeks over his shoulder to see Gabriel in a theatric faint against the doorway. "After all I do for you-" Gabriel moans. "None of which I asked for."

Gabriel's eyes pop open and he looks like he's about to say something cutting when his eyes lock on Dean over Cas' shoulder. "Ah! You're still here. Castiel, would you mind introducing me to your paramour?" Gabriel asks innocently like he hadn't broken into their room this morning and doesn't have pictures of the two of them cuddling on his phone. "He's not my paramour-" "Didn't look that way this morning," Gabriel sing-songs. "-he's my boyfriend, and fiancé as far as any of our other relatives know. Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this insufferable idiot is my brother, Gabriel." "Don't let him fool you, he loves me," Gabriel insists as he sidesteps Cas to thrust out a hand to Dean.

"Uh, nice to finally put a face to the name, 'Uncle Gabe,'" Dean says, wincing a little as Gabe crunches his hand in a punishing grip and pulls him in. "Now. I know the engagement is fake, but what are your intentions with my baby brother?"

Gone is all the mirth and mischief from his eyes, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that Dean knows well and has to admire. "I just want to make Cas happy. In whatever way I can."

The words come out so easily and Dean is surprised by the truth behind them.

Gabe nods, finally relinquishing Dean's hand. "Great. If you're done being an absolute bag of dicks, I believe we have a torture session disguised as brunch to attend." "You're mean when you're hangry, 'Cas,'" Gabriel teases, unwrapping a piece of taffy he pulled from who-knows-where and popping it into his mouth before leading them both into the penthouse. Dean had known that the penthouse of a Las Vegas hotel was going to be fancy, hell Elvis had lived in one, but nothing prepares him for the opulence he steps into.

Dean's jaw is on the floor as they pass beneath crystal chandeliers. A quick peek into the two rooms jutting off the entry way shows one to be a miniature movie theater with eight seats and the other a mini lounge complete with a pool table and fully stocked bar. Cas is impossibly unfazed as they swing by the living room that houses a hundred-inch flatscreen, a fireplace, and a baby grand piano and Dean can't figure out if he truly doesn't care or if he's just used to witnessing his family's wealth. They stop just short of the dining room, low murmurs echoing out to them. "Dean, are you sure you want to do this?" Cas whispers, ignoring the way Gabe arches his brow as he waits for them just in the doorway. "I'm sure," Dean says, lacing their fingers together for a quick, supportive squeeze.

Cas nods and they step into the lion's den together after Gabriel.

——— "Castiel, how lovely of you to finally join us," a woman's sharp words slice at them the moment they enter the room. "I was beginning to think you might not have shown up at all. Who is that with you?" Cas keeps a smile on his face, but his hand tightens around Dean's and Dean can see the tension around his eyes. "Naomi," Cas nods stiffly in acknowledgment before introducing Dean, "This is my fiancé, Dean."

"Dean," Naomi says his name like it's something slimy. "What is it that you do?" "I'm a mechanic-" Is all Dean manages to say before he is cut off. "'Naomi,' is that anyway to treat our dear mother, Castiel?" a man seated next to Naomi asks, words laced with venom. "Have some respect." Dean's eyes narrow as he focuses on the familiar looking guy before placing him as the asshole who'd bumped into him earlier that morning at the elevator. "She has made it very clear that I am no son of hers, so her given name is the most respectful thing I can call her, Michael, though I'm sure I could think of a few less respectful ones if you'd prefer."

Dean wants to whoop with pride, but he bites his lip, knowing if he says anything now it will be a long, long brunch and he's starving.

"Enough! Everyone, just sit so we can begin," booms an older gentleman Dean assumes is Cas' father, Chuck, based on how everyone follows the order as he takes his seat at the head of the table. Naomi claps her hands twice and waitstaff emerge from the kitchen carrying trays of food. Dean watches in morbid fascination as each tray is presented to Chuck first then brought around to each person, the waiter or waitress serving a portion from their tray to the plate on the table or pouring what looks to be mimosa into champagne glasses, completely ignored by everyone. "Chuck is at the head of the table, Naomi is to his right. Next to her is my older brother Michael and I think that is his fiancé," Cas whispers to Dean. "Abagail. Then you have Balthazar, our cousin. Uriel's wife, Sarah, is next to him and that's Uriel at the foot of the table. Moving on, Marv, the family attorney is on the other side of Castiel and our aunt Amara, is to dear old dad's left," Gabriel takes over explaining. "Basically, everyone one hates each other but we all play nice because tearing out each other's jugulars would probably make for bad press." Dean's head is swimming with names and faces, which only gets worse as he glances at all of them and realizes that underdressed is a gross overstatement. He's just contemplating stabbing himself with the salad fork (because yeah, the table is set with about a million different utensils Dean can't hope to guess the function of), when a flash of silver appears in his periphery. "Uh, sir? Would you like some-" Dean turns toward the server to respond, which seems to startle the gangly man so much that he stumbles back. Dean watches in horror as time slows.

The server fails to regain his balance, tripping over his own legs. The silver tray with a strange beige looking meat substance teeters on the waiter's hand before tipping and clattering to the floor with a splat and a clang. Time speeds back up as Dean leaps from his chair to help the man up. "Hey, I'm so sorry about that ..." "Uh, Garth, and I'm the one who should be apologizing." Dean hauls him to his feet before helping him grab his tray.

"Seriously, it was my fault. No need for you to take the blame for something I caused. You okay?"

Garth smiles and nods, "I'm a little bruised but definitely in better shape than the fois gras." Dean guesses that must be the meat on the floor, but he honestly has no idea. "Uh, you should probably sit back down now," Garth whispers, whipping out a cloth from somewhere and scooping up the meat, another person stepping in right after him to mop the spot.

He turns to heed the waiter's advice only to find everyone's eyes boring into him with varying emotions. Chuck, Naomi, Uriel, Michael, and Marv all stare at him with disgust and disdain. Abagail and Sarah with horror. Balthazar and Gabriel regard him with astonished amusement. Amara sears him with an intense emotion that borders on lascivious.

The other waitstaff all have soft smiles of gratitude.

And then there's Cas. Cas stares at him with pride and affection and something else that is warm and comforting. So, he doesn't look anywhere else. Just plops down and acts like nothing happened, Cas' hand finds his under the table.

"Dean," Naomi calls to him, his name icy and cold on her tongue. "I will let your impertinence slide as I am sure that you are not accustomed to silver service or etiquette, but the rule of thumb is to not interact with the staff." Dean tries to tamp down the anger bubbling in him, he really does. But then Naomi gives a little pretentious sniff and Dean can't help himself. "Thank you all for the wonderful service. Everything," Dean can't quite bring himself to lie because the truth is he hasn't had a bite of anything that tasted good, "Looks wonderful. Though I can't vouch for its taste, but that's probably due to my unrefined palate. Garth, would I be able to get some regular old peasant eggs and bacon?"

The scowls on him deepen and whispers begin to fill the room but the waitstaff can't hide their beaming and snickers and both Balthazar and Gabriel do a poor job trying to stifle their laughter behind their champagne glasses.

"Honestly, Castiel. If you can't even control your boyfriend, how are you expected to raise a child," Chuck throws out casually. "This is why he should come live with us. He needs the stability of two responsible parental figures." "Hey! Cas is a great father!" Dean snarls, old wounds scraped open and bleeding at the memory of being questioned about his own ability to raise Sam. "Dean," Cas says softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Ignore them, I do. Let's just get through this, okay?" Dean sits back in his seat, angrily chewing a piece of bacon that Garth ended up getting him, delivered with a grin and a wink. He resolves himself to let it go and stay silent for the rest of the miserable brunch.

It's a great plan, except Naomi just has to open her mouth. "Dean, I'm not sure you're aware, but Jack is Castiel's nephew," she corrects both the nickname and Jack's heritage, "not his son. Castiel will never be a real father, not with his ... condition." Dean tries to count to ten, tries to picture Sammy telling him not to, but he looks to Cas and all restraint flies out the window when he sees tears burning at the edges of his beautiful blue eyes. He jumps to his feet, slamming his hands against the table as if he didn't already have everyone's undivided attention. "Damn! Did you hear that, Cas? Turns out you can't be a father because neither of us can get pregnant. Guess that means we should stop trying so hard," Dean shouts, sarcasm dripping from every word. There is a full second of silence where time seems suspended before all hell breaks loose. Gabe sprays mimosa out of his nose at the inuendo and proceeds to struggle between laughing and coughing. Cas is staring open mouthed up at Dean, unreadable emotion in his eyes. Everyone else gasps and clutches their metaphoric pearls like he'd stood up on the table, pulled down his pants and underwear, and yelled "Pudding!" while shaking his junk at them. Naomi, unfortunately, appears to recover first. "How dare you-" "How dare I?" Dean asks incredulously. "How dare you? I may not be up to date on proper etiquette, but I'm pretty sure berating and belittling your son's fiancé, whom you've just met, is frowned upon. Also, how dare you question Cas' ability to be a parent? He is Jack's dad in every way that counts. He provides for him and loves him unconditionally and would do anything to protect him, which is clearly more than you two can say about yourselves. And he's not doing it alone anymore. He has me and I promise you: I'm not going anywhere." "Don't you speak to my wife that way," Chuck yells at Dean, standing and matching his stance. "And how could Jack possibly benefit from you, Dean? How much do you actually make as a mechanic? Will you be able to help with Jack's college and expenses? Did you even go to college? " "You know what, no. Happy? I didn't go to college. I've never had and probably never will have anything that amounts to material wealth. But what I do have is a G.E.D, a give 'em hell attitude, a decade of experience raising my brother, who got a one-seventy-four on his first shot at the L-SAT and is a few semesters away from graduating in the top ten percent of his class at Stanford, and a whole lotta love for Jack and Cas. So, you can keep your etiquette and complicated silver wear and awful tasting expensive food. I'd rather be poor and happy with a dick in my ass than rich and empty with a stick up it any day a'the week," Dean finishes, huffing and shaking as the rage still claws at him and begs for a bruisable outlet other than an inflated ego.

"Dean ..." Cas breathes beneath him and Dean wants to kick himself. He was supposed to make Cas look good, look stable. And now he'd probably fucked everything up. He doesn't look at Cas, even though he can feel him tugging at his overshirt. He can't look at him yet, needs another moment to scramble together a protective wall from the disappointment and anger he's going to find in the haunting blue. He chooses to stare down Chuck and Naomi who are apparently stunned speechless, as is the rest of the table. "Dean," Cas growls his name this time, but Dean still needs just one more second.

He doesn't get it. Cas is up on his feet beside him, grabbing his face in both hands and pulling him into a kiss.

Cas lips move against his, working at his lower lip until Dean's lips part and Cas' tongue is exploring his mouth. Dean shudders at the sensation, reciprocating eagerly and needing to taste Cas. "Thank you, Dean," Cas whispers as he pulls away far too soon, Dean's lips naturally chasing after him. "Cas?" Dean asks, dazed, confused, and licking the last traces of Cas champagne breath off his lips. Cas doesn't answer though because the room explodes in a cacophony of shouts as everyone jumps to their feet, excluding Abagail and Sarah who shyly give Dean secret thumbs up. Over the din, Dean hears Michael roar that Cas is uninvited from the wedding. "If Cas isn't going, then I'm not. And, judging from your tanking stock, you need me to present a united, family friendly front for the press. I mean that is what this whole wedding is, right? A merger between the Shurley Corporation and Roman Enterprises?" Neither Michael, Naomi, nor Chuck respond. "I'm loathe to agree with Gabriel on anything, but I'm on his and Castiel's team for this one. You bastards," Balthazar says the last part to Gabe and Cas with something that might be considered affection, shocking Dean with his British accent. "If Gabriel and Castiel aren't going, then I'm bloody well not either." "Chuck, Naomi, it's been a pleasure, as always," Cas spits toward them, grabbing Dean's hand and dragging him towards the door. Dean is still too out of it to resist, so he follows Cas, fingertips hovering over his swollen lips, barely registering Gabriel scrambling after them shouting, "Mom, pops, I gotta say, I think this is the best brunch you've ever hosted!"

———

Tag List (I think I got everyone who asked but lmk if you want to be added or removed):

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm