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Dean nearly drew a gun on Sam when Sam walked in. “What the hell happened to your hair?!”
Sam ran a hand over his newly short hair. He was nowhere near used to it, but he’d thought it would be obvious that he’d gotten it cut. “A bunch of magpies flew in my window last night and clipped it to build nests.”
“No, seriously, what the hell?” Dean demanded. “I know you didn’t do it for Michael, he likes your hair, and you sure as hell didn’t do it for you, you loved having your hair long, and you didn’t do it for your job, because Crowley said that as long as you kept it clean he didn’t care if you grew it out long enough to sit on. So…”
Sam looked down at his hands. “So Michael’s sister Lucy wouldn’t stop referring to me as a girl, as Michael’s bride, saying how cute I was going to look in my gown… flashbacks to high school, college, all the idiots who kept saying I wouldn’t ever be a real man. So I got my hair cut off.” He swallowed hard, fighting back the tears as the implications hit him. “I just ruined the wedding pictures for Michael. All he’ll see is that I didn’t trust him to love me no matter what others thought of me.”
“Oh god.” Dean hugged Sam. “I know it’s bad luck, but I’m gonna go get Michael. Best way I can think of to head off this attack.”
Sam tried to calm himself down while Dean was gone, but it wasn’t easy. He took a seat on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. Michael loved him, no matter what he did with his hair, and would never think of him the way Lucy did. Michael didn’t care whether he met some arbitrary definition of manliness, and wouldn’t care about the pictures.
Michael’s arms coming around him got him to look up. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You look great, and if you decide to keep it like this, I support you. If you choose to grow it back out, of course I’d love that too. It’s your choice.” Michael kissed his temple. “I’m sorry I invited Lucy. She’s my sister, and I love her, but I know she shouldn’t be around other people in times of high stress.”
“Why should this be high-stress, though? You and I already live together, all the wedding really changes is that your workplace has to extend the spouse benefits to me, the wedding’s small, just our families, at Uncle Bobby’s house with Ellen and Jo hosting the reception at the Roadhouse…”
Michael’s arms tightened. “It’s still a big deal. It’s a wedding. It’s a celebration of our partnership, our love for each other, our desire to continue this for the rest of our lives. What could be more important than that?”
That got a huge smile from Sam. Put that way, why shouldn’t he consider this one of the most important days of his life? “Thank you. I needed that.”
“Yeah, I know. And now, I’m going away, and I don’t want to see you until Dean brings you downstairs for the wedding, okay?”
“Okay.” Sam wiped his eyes and got to his feet, keeping contact with Michael until he couldn’t anymore.
The wedding went off perfectly, much to Sam’s relief. There was quite a bit of shock at his hair, but nothing he couldn’t ignore, and everyone who said anything to him about it said that it looked good. As he headed for the car, he looked for his husband, finally spotting him arguing with Lucy. She stormed off, slamming the door of her fire-red Mustang as she sped off the wrong way to get to the Roadhouse.
“What was that all about?”
“Sister or not, I’m not having anyone at my wedding reception who makes my husband cry.” Michael smiled grimly. “Now Lucy’s pissed at me for picking you over her, but hell yeah I’m picking the husband who tried to put up with my sister over the sister who went out of her way to antagonize my husband. She brought it on herself.”
Sam stared over the top of the Impala at Michael, eyes wide. “You make it sound like this is permanent.”
“It is.” Michael opened the door to the back seat, sliding in. When Sam slid in beside him, Michael took his hand. “I told Lucy that I don’t want her to contact me until she’s prepared to treat you the way I expect my husband to be treated, beginning with a sincere apology for all the Hell she’s put you through up until now. When I invited her, I told her that if she pulled any crap, she’d have to live with the consequences. She pulled crap.”
“Good for you,” Dean said. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but you made the right choice there.”
“I know,” Michael said. “May need you and Cas to remind me of that, sometimes, but I can’t imagine ever regretting choosing Sam when my hand was forced.”
Ellen and Jo served a wonderful meal. One of the biggest advantages of a small wedding was that it was easy to fit everyone around one big table – Jim, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, Castiel and Meg, Raphael, Gabriel and Kali, Dean, and the newly married couple. The only comment anyone had on the missing person came from Gabriel: “Always wondered what you two were thinking, planning a dinner for thirteen. Good job on getting rid of one before anyone had to make any Last Supper jokes!” Kali smacked him for it, but it dispelled any potential awkwardness.
Jo had pre-programmed the jukebox with what she called an appropriate playlist. She then refused to tell anyone what was on it. She’d promised Sam that he wouldn’t look like an idiot on his first dance with his new husband, but he was skeptical. Jo’s taste was… offbeat.
It took Sam a moment to place the guitar, but when Bryan Adams started singing, he couldn’t help the stupid besotted grin. Dean hated this song, but it was perfect. Neither he nor Michael were much for dancing, but it wasn’t hard to hold each other and shuffle to the music, and the lyrics suited them perfectly.