Big gay vases of lilies everywhere. Dean shakes his head, sitting down at the dressing table. Freaking bow tie wasn't going to tie itself.

A blond woman flickers into existence behind him. Dean jumps, looking into the stupid gilded mirror in front of him and glaring at the chick who'd nearly made him jump out of his suit.

"Seriously? Why not use the door?" The blond just smiles and moves to rest her hands on his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his tux. "and what are you wearing?"

"It's a tradition." She smoothes her blue shirt delicately. "Something blue."

"Right. Because this is all so traditional. And I wasn't talking about the shirt."

"The shirt." She takes hold of his bow tie and begins to tie it with quick, deft movements. "is my something blue. The prostitute from Minnesota is borrowed, it would not be out of place to call her 'old' but she is new to me." She presses a kiss to his mouth gently. " means I can see you before the wedding, without incurring bad luck."

"I shouldn't have bought you that book, knew you'd take all this wedding crap seriously" Dean smirks, straightening his tie. "Do I still get to marry you – the real you?"

"Yes. Though technically the real me is..."

"Huge Chrysler beam of light, I know." Dean rolls his eyes. "I mean, regular, trench coat, blue eyes, bed hair..."

"Sam confiscated my coat." The blond actually pouts. "but yes, I will be myself."

"Awesome" Dean gets to his feet. "Shouldn't you be...I don't know...finding your garter already?"

"I left it with my vessel" Castiel flicks her long hair back with mildly irritated confusion, not used to this new body. "I'll return now."

"By the way, I so knew you were the wife." Dean says, just as the sound of wings fills the tiny room.

"Wait till tonight" Castiel's voice, his normal 'I eat gravel and bring you doom' voice comes through the dressing room wall.

So Dean will probably forgive his choice of the long run.