Chapter Text
“Line ‘em up.” Bobby said, nodding his head at Dean, who bent over the pool table and began to rack the balls in place.
As much fun as it was to sit around and wait to hear what Sam had planned for his life, Dean decided the best way to combat his nerves was to play a little pool. After all, it wasn’t like his presence was necessary to sign his own life away.
It had been Dean’s idea but that didn’t mean he was thrilled with what was going on. John had retired, wanting to get away and do volunteer work in Vietnam. Something about righting the wrongs he’d been a part of. Whatever the case, John was gone and had left the entire company to Sam. Dean and Sam had both wanted it that way. Dean wasn’t interested in running the company and as an Omega, wasn’t expected to. Not that he couldn’t, if he had wanted, but that wasn’t his forte. That’s what he’d been told, growing up anyway. Alphas worked in business, omegas stayed home to care for the family.
Besides. Sam, had been working hard to make his own mark on Wesson Media Group. To prepare for his role as CEO, he had been sitting on the board of their rival company, Novak Corporation, for the last year. That was typical. Many of the board members were made up of several rival companies. The biggest of those was, of course, Novak Corp. But apparently Novak was looking to exploit the transitionary period and was poised to do a hostile takeover by buying out John Wesson’s shares. To combat that, and to save Wesson Media from being completely overtaken, Sam had come to Dean, asking for help.
Dean had been the one to suggest it. Merge their companies on their own terms. So now Sam was in his office at Wesson Manor, drawing up a contract with Zachariah Novak himself, promising Dean’s hand to Zachariah’s second eldest son and eventual successor, Castiel Novak.
Dean had never really met Castiel before but was prepared to do his duty as an Omega and as a Wesson and see the deal through. But for now, he was trying to calm his agitated nerves by drinking whiskey and playing pool with head of the Wesson staff, Bobby Singer.
“Quit thinkin’ over there,” Bobby growled. He’d been brought up in the Midwest and had never quite lost his Midwestern drawl through the years of working for John and Mary. “You gonna play or you gonna whine?”
Dean shook himself out of his reverie and lined up a shot. “Gonna play,” he said curtly. “Gonna beat your ass, old man.”
“Watch your language,” Bobby smirked. “Your Mr. Novak might not like you cussin’ like a sailor as you’re prone to doing.”
“Right,” Dean swallowed. The idea of being in an arranged marriage didn’t bother him as much as the idea of being in an arranged marriage with an Alpha. Omega rights had come a long way in the last century but there was still a sort of idealization of the Alpha protector, head of household, controller of the Wayward Omega that seemed to still be perpetuated, especially amongst the elite class.
“It’ll be fine,’ Bobby added, seeing the look on Dean’s face. “I’m sure your brother wouldn’t marry you off to any old jackass. He’s been on the board of that Novak company for the last year, he probably knows this Castiel guy well enough to gauge if he would be a bad match. Your brother wouldn’t let you walk into a lion's den.”
“I hope,” Dean said, draining the last of his glass in one go. The warm amber liquid burned in his throat, relaxing him. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. What was I thinking?”
“As usual you were being your overly sacrificial self, tryin’ to save everyone’s jobs and save your brother and your family company.” Bobby shook his head. “You’ve always lived your life on your own terms,” he added. Dean thought about that. It was true, he was usually the first to be reluctant to bend to anyone’s wishes. Except...well except once. The worst two years of his life. But this would be different. He hoped.
Dean beat Bobby soundly in the first game and was well on his way to winning the second when he sensed someone watching him. He looked up to see Sam, standing in the doorway to the billiard’s room with a cup of coffee. Zachariah Novak was at his side, watching Dean as well, a pleased look on his face.
“He’s got spirit,” Zachariah said brightly. “That’s good,” he added. Dean was disgusted at the way Zachariah looked at him. Like he was a chess piece and Zachariah was trying to find the best maneuver.
“Dean, Mr. Novak and I are finished with the contract. Come to my office in fifteen minutes please,” Sam said. Dean nodded. “I’m going to see Mr. Novak out.”
Dean could hardly stand the wait but he managed to check himself over in the bathroom and tidy himself up a little before it was time to go to Sam’s office. He smoothed his hair back and checked to make sure his polo shirt had no wrinkles and his slacks were lint free.
Sam wasn’t overly concerned about appearances but it was a habit from whenever John called him into what was his office before he left. John liked to see his son's presenting themselves respectably and that meant clean, neat and pressed clothing and tidy hair, even when they were young.
Nerves steadied, he took a deep breath and walked down the hallway into Sam’s office, settling himself in the leather chair in front of the large cherry and oak desk. Sam had changed much about the room once John left. All of the furniture was new and much heavier, more suited to Sam’s tastes. The wood paneling was replaced with soft cream walls and the fireplace had been modernized, the old brick one taken out and changed for a chrome and metal wall one. Dean looked around, enjoying the new decor.
Sam came in after a few minutes and walked over to his desk, where the thick contract was laid out, waiting for them to go through it.
“Ellen has already looked it over,” Sam said, referring to their family lawyer. “She and Joanna are certain that it’s sound. Novak had his men look over it too. Novak is paying us $50 million and in return, Novak Corp and Wesson Media are going ahead with the merger.” Dean was somewhat impressed he was worth a cool $50 million. “There are a few stipulations in the contract of course, which I agreed to on your behalf but I’m going to let you look over it now to make sure you’re in agreement. I didn’t think any of it was unreasonable enough to object though.”
Dean’s stomach tightened. Stipulations? Sam must have seen the worry on his brow. “You can look it over now, I’ve marked the pages where they appear.” Dean grabbed the contract, flipping through. A few normal ones like the prenups that would be signed, giving up his residence at Wesson Manor in Chicago to reside at the Novak Estate in Connecticut and other odds and ends that related to Novak’s son’s wishes for the marriage...then Dean read the last one.
Party of the first part is to provide an heir for party of the second within a 12 month span upon the date of the official Union or party of the second must forfeit claim to the seat of acting president to the Novak Corporation….
Fuck. Fuck and fuck again. He was expecting this to be like...Dean didn’t know. Part of him was hoping this was just a dry contract marriage, maybe Novak would get a mistress on the side and Dean would just be the pretty husband who ran some charities. But this was like...this was like real, like he would have to be like...an actual marriage. He was going to have to get pregnant within a year and then like, be subjected to tests to ensure the pup was definitely Novak’s or the guy would lose his right to inherit the company. He swallowed.
“Dean I know this is asking a lot of you,” Sam reached out, patting Dean’s hand. “You don’t have to do this. I know you were the one who suggested it but we can find another way to keep anyone at Wesson from losing their jobs or getting absorbed or being dissolved.” Dean shook his head. He might be an omega but that didn’t mean he wasn’t stubborn.
“No,” he said. “I’ll do this. I’ll give this Novak guy a kid and he can take over and the merger will happen and it will be fine.”
Sam sighed. Dean was a stubborn omega, a special quality. Many didn’t appreciate what a rare sort that Dean was but he would be a good husband for any Alpha. He nodded. “Alright, if you’re satisfied with the contents of this document, please sign here and initial here,” Sam walked him through the many pages of signatures and initials required until Dean had completed the contract.
“What’s next?” Dean asked.
“Next we leak the story to both papers,” Sam said. “A fairy-tale version of the story, to be more accurate. The public loves a good story and that’s our business, storytelling.” He sat back, crossing a leg. “We tell them about your whirlwind romance and arrange a wedding in a few weeks, making it seem as if you’ve been planning this for months. It’ll be a private ceremony on the beach of course and then you’ll move into the Novak Estate and then the merger will officially start.”
“I see,” Dean pursed his lips. “Can I make any amends?”
“Ask,” Sam said, steepling his fingers.
“Don’t want to get married on the beach. Can it be at the Denver villa?” Dean asked quietly.
“Of course,” Sam said. “It’s your wedding, you’re the Omega,” he added. Dean felt the irony of this situation. Most Omegas were excited to plan their weddings, having had ideas in their head since childhood. But then again, they were marrying people they actually loved.
---
Despite what Sam had said about it being “his” wedding, the wedding planner seemed to have other ideas. Balthazar was the special kind of fireball that never seemed to tire out but was also particular about how things should go. Dean felt himself growing more and more anxious as time went by. Every time he tried to make a suggestion, Balthazar would make a show of explaining why that wouldn’t work or why that idea was stupid. He could be a bit of a bully about getting his way. Dean had started to feel as if he was planning his funeral instead of a wedding at this point.
He wasn’t a child. He couldn’t run to Sam and expect Sam to fix things but everything felt wrong. The idea of having a fairy tale wedding was stupid, he wasn’t in love with Novak and he wasn’t planning his dream wedding but that didn’t mean he was happy with what Balthazar was forcing him into. Dean didn’t want a big, elaborate ceremony. He didn’t want a hundred guests and flowers everywhere and he definitely didn’t want to wear a white tuxedo. He wanted this to be small, intimate, private...he didn’t want everyone seeing him trapped at the altar, marrying someone he didn’t know and maybe even pitying him for it.
He chewed anxiously on his lip, begging himself to just get over this anxiety but it was difficult. Currently, he was doing his best not to yell or burst into angry tears while Balthazar went on about the doves they would be releasing after the ceremony. Dean hated that idea with a burning passion but Balthazar had been rather insistent.
Dean stood up, needing a break. “Mr. Wesson, we absolutely need to finish planning this,” Balthazar said firmly. “Your wedding is less than a week away!”
“Please?” Dean asked, looking at his hands. “I just need a break, just two minutes…”
“Two minutes,” Balthazar said in a stern voice. “Then back to work.”
Dean found himself practically running to get away. He hadn’t intended to run to Sam but he found himself in the hallway where his brother’s office was located. He wasn’t paying attention and practically ran into someone who was standing outside the office, skidding to an abrupt halt and nearly falling over.
“Oh, sorry!” Dean said, looking up into the most vivid blue eyes he’d ever seen. The dark-haired stranger smiled, helping Dean right himself.
“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice surprisingly deep.
“Uh, yeah, sorry again,” Dean flushed. “I didn’t mean to...I just...needed a break.”
“A break from what?”
“N-nothing,’ Dean said, feeling anxious. He was being whiney again.
“Doesn’t look like nothing…” the man said. He put his arm on Dean’s. “Go on then, tell me.” Dean wasn’t the type to spill his feelings but there was something about the stranger’s kind eyes...
“Just...planning this...wedding. I’m supposed to be getting married and I guess it’s alright but the wedding planner is kind of a dick about everything. I’m not enjoying it. It’s all crap and just...not me at all but I guess my brother hired him and I don’t want to piss anyone off…” Dean couldn’t believe how much he was sharing with this complete stranger but he’d been keeping everything bottled up tightly for so long that here he was, letting it all out on the first poor, unsuspecting soul.
“Hmm,” the man said, looking thoughtfully at Dean. “What do you want to do?”
“Honestly? I just want a small wedding, nothing fancy, nothing crazy. I don’t want doves or a 100 person choir or all my friends and family...I just want to get married in peace with my...fiance,” Dean swallowed, trying to keep up the lie that they had told the press. “And not feel like I’m part of a three-ring circus….” He was treading dangerous territory here. Omegas were supposed to be submissive and yielding. He was too opinionated, especially for an Omega of the Elite Class.
“Have you talked to your wedding planner?” The man asked.
“I can’t, I’m...it’s not up to me,” Dean said carefully.
“I have a meeting with your brother. Maybe I can talk to him for you, Alpha to Alpha,” the man suggested.
“No, please,” Dean begged. “Don’t bother him. I wasn’t even going to bother him myself but I just...found myself here.”
“I’m so sorry. Please excuse me, I have a call coming in,” the man said, pulling a phone from out of his pocket. “Good luck, I hope things work out,” he said as he put the phone to his ear, walking towards the Atrium to take the call. Dean watched him leave, mixed emotions inside. On the one hand, he was sorry the stranger had to go. On the other, he was relieved the person hadn’t tried to push the issue further. He was also feeling a little anxious about having pushed his opinions so readily on a stranger. It was for the best that Dean would never see him again, probably. Within a week he would be married to Novak and would be uprooted from his childhood home here in Chicago and transplanted to Connecticut to live in his new husband’s home.
Dean took a few deep breaths and walked himself slowly down the hallway and back to the small board room where Balthazar was waiting for him to finish their planning. Balthazar was on the phone when he entered, finishing up a call. Dean sighed. Probably more doves.
“Yes, that is acceptable,” Balthazar said. He nodded as he made a few more noises of affirmation. “Alright, talk to you later,” he said. Dean sat down at the table, resigned to his fate, glancing at the various brochures and pamphlets. He made a face and pushed one of them away, unable to contain his disgust at the idea of live peacocks wandering the ceremony. Balthazar hung up the phone, eyeing Dean’s face of disgust.
“Alright, so I get the feeling that perhaps you don’t enjoy my ideas,” Balthazar said bluntly, steely gaze directed at Dean. Dean didn’t know how to respond so he just nodded.
“I realize that we’re quite a ways into planning but perhaps…” Balthazar looked like he was grimacing in pain. “We could reevaluate the ideas? It’s your wedding, after all. It should be your...special day.” Balthazar finished. Dean felt his heart lift up.
“It’s okay?” He asked. “I can really do things my way?” Balthazar nodded. Dean pulled Balthazar’s book towards him, flipping through. “Is this okay?” He asked, pointing out a sample photo. “Can we do something more like this?”
“We can try,” Balthazar said. “I am quite certain I can make magic happen if I wanted so we can certainly do this in a week.”
Dean felt, for the first time, that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.