That's When We Uncover [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Fifty

Our wedding day dawns bright and clear, a crisp autumn morning. At 10 A.M., Misha and I get our hair done. I sit back while careful hands work a generous amount of mousse - medium hold, extra volume - and massage, twist, clump tendrils together to create just the right amount of lift. We arrive at the venue around noon for setup, positively ensconced by bodyguards.

An event of this magnitude calls for nothing less than security planted every seven feet around the perimeter of the property, five days in advance. The media has been stationed outside for days prior, waiting like swarming sharks to leak anything and everything they can to the press outlets. Talking to the caterers, the vendors, the musicians, the people renting the lounge furniture, the companies providing the luxury trailers, the generators, everyone. There are already close to three hundred people on site and trickling into the massive underground parking lot, without the guests.

Magazines have started buying drones, outfitting them with video cameras and launching them undetected to hover low over the site, and the footage captured can be uploaded in real time to YouTube, Periscope, Twitter, et cetera. Not to mention the helicopters with the TV crew on board, but for that coverage, viewers actually have to wait for the show to air. Photos of the setup and affair are taken from high overhead and published, photographers hopeful just for grainy shots of the vendor carrying the cake.

We could have every single person entering the property screened and forced to sign non-disclosure agreements and relinquish their technology for the duration of the event, and it wouldn't make a dent. The tabloid-hungry public has gleaned everything from the guest list to the cake to the setup within days and that's fine with Misha and I. It's more than fine. I want to parade my relationship at all the galas and premieres; I want to kiss him on the street so the paparazzos can take a picture of it; and I want our wedding day to linger in everyone's memory for years to come. I know that it hurt Misha to have to hide it for so long - all the deflection and non-answers hurt me too - but now, as far as I'm concerned, PopSugar and Vanity Fair and the whole lot can get their fucking popcorn ready. To say that our wedding has been highly anticipated would be a massive understatement, and we're not trying to keep it on the down-low now that it's finally happening.

As it is, Misha is streaming whatever he can, interspersed with selfies and Snaps and whatever else his little tech-savvy heart compels him to do in the way of keeping our fans in the loop on this special day.

Obviously, most of them won't be making the wedding. But these are the people who bore witness to my public advances and flirting and innuendos over the years, who picked up on a chemistry that grew so palpable it started a frenzied, global phenomenon. They suffered through our protracted flirt-a-thon, when the voltage between us could only be measured in megawatts, when I was acting like a dewy-eyed teenager mooning over his first crush. Okay. In hindsight, we sucked at hiding our relationship.