"Deep breath." Marc said, barely keeping a solemn face. He patted Jared on the back consolingly and failed to hide the smirk he shot Sam when Jared looked up and glared.

"Easy for you to say!" He protested, trying to straighten up, but quickly pressed back down, head between his knees, by Marc's elbow in his back.

"Keep breathing." Marc continued, sounding like the voice over from a meditation CD.

"You're making far too big a deal out of this." Sam said sagely, yellow rubber gloves pulled up to her elbows. "It's not as if you're entering into slavery."

"Near as damnit." Marc muttered under his breath. Sam shot him a dirty glare and he held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

Jared seized the opportunity to straighten up, his back pinging like an elastic band. He rolled his shoulders and shuffled quickly away from Marc. "You're no help." He huffed.

Marc shrugged carelessly. "What of it? Besides, it's not like you don't want to get-"

"Don't say it out loud!" Jared hissed, his arms flailing. "You'll kill a puppy or something."

"It's not like I'm saying Macbeth!" Marc pouted, clapping his hands together in an attempt to revive said puppy.

"You might as well be." Jared said morosely, dropping his head into his hands.

In all fairness, he had a perfectly legitimate, utterly rational reason for contemplating going AWOL and joining the circus. He was, after all, a man on the brink of the dreaded M word, and he surely wouldn't be the first to pack it all in to pick up sticks with Nelly the Elephant.

Of course Jensen might hunt him down and beat him to death with said elephant.

Maybe it was worth the risk?

"What are you being such a coward about?" Sam scoffed in disgust. "You live with the man, you sleep with him, you share breakfasts and make horribly sickly gooey eyes at one another on an hourly basis. What will a bit of paper do to change all that?"

Jared gulped loudly. "I'll be a….a…..a…."

"Husband!" Marc cut in, cackling gleefully and rubbing his hands together like a Bond villain on speed. He wiped a fake tear from his eyes and sniffed. "My little brother, all grown up and getting his own ball and chain." He said, Dean's voice out of place in his Cosmo-style living room.

"Don't let Jensen here you say that." Sam said dryly, washing Marc's dishes as she did every time she was in his house. Men, it seemed, couldn't be trusted with housework.

Jared blanched and clutched at the couch cushions. He was going to be a Mr. One half of a legally joined pair. A husband. And OId Man…a…..a…."

"Breathe." Marc chimed, forcing Jared's head back between his knees. "And think of the honeymoon."

*****

Let's face it. It was the honeymoon alone that saved him from trying to buy cyanide over the internet. He trudged through the front door, Sam on his heels, and was bowled over by first Sadie, the Harley, and tripped up by the cats as soon as he was able to extract himself from his dogs. Tweety tooted from his cage, and Cliché licked her lips expectantly.

Even the kids were against him.

"I'mmatakeashower." Jared mumbled, tugging his shirt off and throwing it in the hamper. He used the main bathroom and turned the little waterproof yellow submarine radio on full blast.

For the record, he wasn't against marrying Jensen. Not in that way. He was all for the undying devotion, love, kisses, sickness and health (he figured he had that part down. They were due a whole truckload of health, thank you very much) richer, poorer, stinky socks and morning breath and it's your turn to do the laundry damnit! It was just the other stuff.

He wouldn't tell anyone, and he'd deny it until the day he was put in the ground in his best converse sneakers, but he had a not so teeny tiny fear of weddings.

So he'd settle for the marriage thing, if they could, you know, skip the actually marriage thing.

He got soap in his eyes and cursed up a storm, stubbing his toe and slipping on a rubber duck Marc had bought them as a moving in gift.

"Goddamn son of a bitch and a motherfu-" He crossed the threshold into the bedroom, a towel around his hips and his foot in his hand, hopping like a disabled Jack-in-A-Box, and spotted Jensen lying in the middle of the bed, covers pulled up to his chin. He'd had a bad few days, and had spent the whole day sleeping. Jared's grumpy mood bounced right on out the window and he shuffled forward and crawled on to the bed.

Jensen hadn't so much as stunned him with his casually put question of 'hey, Jay, you wanna get married?' as he had smacked Jared around the head with a two-by-four then set fire to the broken shards and roasted Jared's brains over the flames. Jared had been so firmly set in 'wait, what, huh?' mode that he'd nodded and kissed Jensen before his brain cells had caught up and started poking him in the eye with a red warning flag.

Of course once the surprise induced smooching had passed, there had been the shock stimulated sex, and the post shock cuddling, during which it simply hadn't been the time to admit to his little phobia. Then Jensen had come down with the cold of the century and Jared had been too busy squeezing oranges to mention it.

Jensen snuffled and Jared wrapped an arm around his middle. "Cop out." Sam said from the doorway, wandering in to fetch Jensen's laundry.

"Shuddup." Jared groaned, burying his head in Jensen's neck. "It can't be any worse than a sixteen hour shoot with Marc and your fancy-man."

Sam turned bright purple and threw a sock at him before storming out.

Point Team Padalecki!

Jensen rolled over and opened his eyes, and Jared promptly found his willpower turning the consistency of marmalade. Christ, he was as useful as a chocolate fire guard. He kissed Jensen's nose and got a face full of morning breath when Jensen yawned at him.

"Hmm, y'sokay?" He mumbled, keeping his eyes open long enough to see Jared's response.

"Fine and dandy." Jared lied through his teeth, snuggling up closer.

He'd tell Jensen tomorrow.

Honest.