Chapter Text
Let me tell you my favourite parts of my wedding day. It’s been a long time, but I still remember these moments. I hold onto them.
*
Ten minutes before the ceremony.
When I should have been prepping, or memorizing my vows, or doing shots. But no, I was standing in Sasha and Connie’s hallway, trying to break their bedroom door down.
“Nope,” said Marco, his voice muffled through the door. “Nuh-uh.”
I was going nuts. I hadn’t seen him all day -- he’d left that morning before my alarm even went off, took his dress shoes and everything. He was actually holding true to the idea of getting bad luck if you saw each other before the wedding, and I was about to rip that door right off his hinges.
I’d spent enough of my life away from him. I didn’t need to spend any more of it like that.
I told him so, slouching against the wall outside the master bedroom and not caring if my dress blues got wrinkled.
“That’s really romantic,” Marco said from the other side of the door. “But it’s still not gonna get you anywhere.”
I fought the urge to run my hand through my hair; Sasha had spent so much goddamned time slicking it back for me.
“Marc...” I growled.
“Nope.” His voice was warm with laughter, and it made me light-headed. The nerves and the happiness and the goddamned anticipation, and his laugh, and wanting to get the ceremony over with just so I could see him...
I was a mess that day. In the best goddamned way, but still a mess.
I nudged the door with the toe of my shoe. “Come on, you nerd.”
“The ceremony is in ten minutes,” Marco soothed. “Just wait, baby.”
“I need to see you now.”
“Do you really think we can risk any more bad luck?”
“We’ve racked up a shitload of good karma,” I reasoned, leaning my forehead on the door. “We could have sex right now, and still go down that aisle scot-free.”
Marco snorted. “I knew you had ulterior motives.”
“No, I just--” I hesitated. I mean, if he was offering...
“Uh-huh. I’m wearing my tux, you know.”
Oh god. That tux he’d brought home perfectly tailored a few weeks ago. I’d been staring at that thing in the closet and fucking slobbering.
I jiggled the doorknob violent in the door. “You let me in right fuckin’ now--”
Marco laughed. He pressed his weight on the door to keep it closed.
“Ten minutes,” he insisted. “No, nine minutes now.”
“Open the door, punk.”
“Eight minutes.”
“Sweetheart...” I murmured.
“Buttering me up isn’t gonna work, Jean Kirschtein.”
“Kirschtein-Bodt,” I reminded him.
Marco’s voice softened. “Yeah... In seven minutes.”
We were quiet for a minute. The light was streaming in that gold colour that we loved as the afternoon faded, the sun sinking so quick the way it does in the autumn. I could hear the voices of the fifty or so people hanging around the huge garden outside buzzing in my ears. They were waiting for the ceremony to start.
Suddenly, anxiety was tightening in my chest.
And somehow, he knew.
“Don’t be nervous,” Marco said quietly through the door.
“I just don’t want to screw my vows up,” I admitted after a long moment.
“You better screw them up,” he said. “Then I’ll know it’s real, and I’ll know it’s you, and it’s not just a dream or something.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“Ok dude--” I jiggled the door knob again. “You don’t get to say things like that and then not let me kiss you.”
Marco sighed deeply from the other side of the door. “Close your eyes.”
“What-- Really?”
“Close ‘em, jerk.”
I squeezed them shut tight immediately, stepping back from the door. When the lock gave and the door opened slow and loud on its old hinges, I almost looked-- but Marco’s hand was there before I had the chance, covering my eyes with his long fingers and making sure I didn’t peek.
And then his other one was tipping my chin up, and he kissed me.
And for a minute, my heart was calm.
I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him; I wrapped my arms around Marco’s waist, rubbing his back and feeling the heat of his skin through the silky dress shirt. I kept leaning forward into him, kissing him blindly and badly. It made Marco laugh.
“Mm-- you look--” he tried to speak between kisses, “-- so hot in-- mmm... in your uniform. Yes.”
“So you get to see, and I don’t?” I grumbled, nuzzling his neck.
To be honest, just being this close to him was enough.
Marco shivered when I kissed under his jaw. “Take what-- ugh, what you can get.”
This was a good point. I kissed his neck.
Marco’s fingers grazed along my cheek, this thumb tracing my lips. “You should go, baby.”
“One more,” I mumbled into his skin.
He sighed heavily. “Needy. Needy husband. It’s a good thing you’re so goddamned handsome.” Marco’s fingers slid away from my eyes so he could cradle my face in both hands. I kept my eyes closed even though I could have peeked, because he asked me to.
Marco kissed me, and smiled against my lips. And then he was slipping out of my grip, saying goodbye and letting his fingertips trail away from mine until he had to let go. Then the bedroom door closed again.
*
The first time I got to see Marco that day.
I was glad that he made me wait. I was glad that we stood at the top of Connie’s open gorgeous yard at the edge of the woods, and the sun was going down. I was glad that my brother Emile stood next to me, silent and facing the Justice of the Peace with me.
I was glad that it was Armin, Marco’s best man, who grinned at me from his spot opposite me and nodded his head toward the aisle.
Because the music changed, and the light changed, and I turned around, and my heart was in my throat.
God, Marco.
He just had that smile on as he came towards me. The calm one, tender and warm and just for me. Christ, he was so handsome in his tuxedo, and his mom hung proudly off his arm, smiling at me, too.
I just remember being overwhelmed. Feeling so many things, and at the same time, feeling just... relieved.
We were doing this. It was happening.
And then Marco was standing in front of me, and his mom hugged me tight, and then it was me and him. We were surrounded by our friends and family and the Justice officiating the ceremony, but for a minute it was just us.
We looked at each other. I remember that moment. Marco and me. He bit his lip to keep from smiling so much. My face was hurting from grinning like an idiot -- he was just so beautiful, those whiskey eyes wide and warm and nervous and never leaving my face, and for a second I couldn’t catch my breath.
And then Marco took my hands, and the Justice started speaking.
Marco squeezed my fingers, and I squeezed back.
*
The vows. I remember that. Even though I barely got through them.
You’d think a guy who does what I do for a living would be able to control himself. Get through a couple of sappy lines about marriage and commitment that the Justice had to say to every couple he married in Vermont.
I just... I couldn’t take my eyes off Marco.
I had to keep letting go of his hands so I could wipe my eyes.
Yeah, ok, I cried, but Marco was crying, too.
Disregard the fact that Marco cries over good movies and sad commercials.
When we got to the vows part, I remember my heart rate picking up fast. I’d been terrified in the few weeks before that I would completely blank out when that moment came. But when the Justice looked at me, I grew calm. I remembered them. Even if I didn’t, I would have still looked at Marco and known what I wanted to say.
The problem wasn’t the vows, the problem was that when I opened my mouth to speak, my voice cracked from the nerves and the crying.
Everyone laughed when I cleared my throat, and my face went bright red, but Marco laughed too. He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my fingers.
I swallowed hard, smiled slightly, and started again. “I... Sorry, I, uh... Marco... Sweetheart, you are the reason I’m here today. You are the reason that I’m strong...” I wiped my face and let out a shaky breath. “You are the bravest. The kindest. You accept me. You understand me, and you love me even when I don’t know how to. Marco, I... I promise you my life. I promise you my support and my encouragement. My love. My protection. My honor. I promise you that we will always figure it out. I promise that it will always be you and me. You’re the love of my life, and I am yours today, I am yours every day, and I am yours forever.”
Marco had been watching me the entire time I choked my way through my vows, but when I finished and it was his turn, he lowered his eyes and stared at our hands. I watched him take a deep, shaky breath. When he looked back up at me, he smiled, but his cheeks were wet.
I didn’t hesitate. I let go of his hands and wiped the tears away with both my thumbs, cradling his face in my hands. I kissed his cheek, and Marco held onto me for a second and let out the breath he’d been holding, and he held on --
Until Reiner called from his seat in the crowd, “you’re supposed to wait, bro.”
Marco laughed, along with everyone else, and when I stepped back and took his hands again, he seemed ok. Marco squeezed my hands, took another deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was steady.
“Jean.” Marco smiled. “My baby. My heart. We survive things that would break anyone else. We’re stronger because of it. And we don’t just survive anymore, we live, and I promise you that. I promise you that we’ll live, and I will love you. Through everything, through good days and bad. I promise you laughter, I promise you communication, I promise you endless support. I promise you my trust and my love. I promise to be there for you when you’re happy and when you’re scared. I have always been yours, from the first day I met you, but today, I am yours -- today, every day, and forever.”
The rings came after that, and more words, but I don’t really remember those.
I was just so impatient. Dry-eyed once Marco finished. I was just waiting.
Waiting for the moment when the Justice pronounced us married, and I got to kiss him.
Marco was biting his lip again, beaming at me, and when the Justice said it -- called him my husband, and me his -- he kissed me soft and slow. The way I loved it, the way he always did, ever since we met.
Except it was different. Because we weren’t young and scared and sitting on our friend’s bed, hiding it from everyone.
We were married, and the crowd before us -- Marco’s whole family, our friends from college and from New York, most of the guys on my force, my brothers, Emile beside me and Ollie with his wife and daughter in the front row --
They cheered.
*
The car ride from Sasha and Connie’s to the inn at the edge of the town for the reception.
Sasha had suggested that we get a limo for this, and you can just add that to the list of things we owe Sasha for.
We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
Marco loved my dress blues, but he loved them even more when he was running his hands over my chest under the jacket, peeling it off and tossing it on the floor. He kissed my neck while I undid his bow-tie and forced his tuxedo jacket back off his shoulders; while I kissed him, he shoved the sleeves of his collared shirt up to both elbows, baring the flower tattoos that wound from his left wrist to his elbow. Sunflowers and a purple vining plant with blossoms that looked like bells, small blue flowers, and more flowers that he’d been adding on every so often since we’d gotten engaged. He got another flower every time I went to get more color work on the phoenix tattoo on my right shoulder blade; we sat in the tattoo shop together.
And we sat there in the back of that limo together, out of breath from kissing, nothing but crumpled ties and messy hair and holding onto each other, staying still for a minute and just looking at each other.
“Holy fuck,” I said after a while.
Marco nodded, his eyes wide.
I grinned at him. “Congratulations, Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt.”
Marco stroked my hair back into place and smiled. “You too, Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt. Hey, this is gonna sound weird.”
“What?”
“Is it just me, or do we have the same last name?”
I don’t remember much else except for me threatening to dump his ass for the corny jokes, the way he couldn’t stop smiling long enough to kiss me, and trying desperately to pretend we hadn’t been making out when we got out of the car.
*
Walking into that reception.
There were more people there, more of my family -- the ones who had agreed to come, but didn’t bother with the ceremony. My mother and father sat at a table with some of Marco’s aunts and cousins. Their spot at the long table where Marco and I were sitting had been taken by Sasha and Connie. I just remember looking at them, at Sasha trying to use her pregnancy as an excuse to get in on the food earlier and my godson Henry in Connie’s lap, slouched and asleep against his chest. And I remember thinking, this is who my family is.
Marco and I left our jackets in the lobby of the inn; we were spending the night there anyway, so the front desk guy didn’t mind. Marco rolled his sleeves up properly and tried to fix his hair the way he’d had it, but I messed it up anyway. I liked him scruffy. I liked him any way, but I wanted this to be relaxed. I just wanted my man.
And then we were holding each other’s hands, hovering outside the doorway of the main room of the reception until we were announced, and we walked into that room full of my friends and family and colleagues. And I got introduced with my husband.
I stood in front of everyone in a way that I’d been mortally afraid to ever think about doing for so many goddamned years. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, and Marco squeezed my hand and led me to the table.
And I was ok.
*
The speeches.
Connie went first. I’d chosen my brother as a best man, but Connie was my usher, and pretty much the equivalent. He was my best bro, and when he got up with his glass of champagne, he was already half-buzzed. He grinned at us and said simply, in that way he did, that it made total sense to him. Having a part of his family get married at his house. Some more sappy shit that ended with Sasha smacking a hand to her forehead.
Armin went next. He addressed Marco more than me, but that was understandable; I’d held Armin as far away as possible in college because he was so observant. He understood people. And when he talked about how Marco always had a smile for everyone, he understood that, too. It was only ever obvious to the people who knew Marco well when he meant a smile or not. And, Armin said, he’d only ever seen Marco smile this proudly twice. The first time, in the beginning of their sophomore year of college, when he walked in on Marco talking to his new roommate at the pizza place. And the second time, on our wedding day.
My brother went next.
When Emile stood up, he didn’t have anything in his hand but a glass of champagne. He didn’t need an index card or a checklist, public speaking went hand-in-hand with his job.
But when he looked at me, the microphone in his hand, I watched my big brother draw a complete blank. His eyes, the same colour as mine, went wide.
Emile swallowed hard. “Jean...”
I opened my mouth -- I was going to tell him that he didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to. That everything he’d done for me was enough.
Emile was the first one in my family who reached out to me after all the shit went down with the shooting. He was the first one to come see me in Vermont. He was the first one to meet Marco, the first one to really meet him, to sit down and eat dinner with us and love him. He was the first one to apologize to me. For everything.
Just him being there with me would have been enough.
But Emile held up his hand to shush me, and started again.
“Jean,” he said steadily, “I’m gonna talk to Marco first. Because Marco, God bless you for putting up with his bullshit. He’s going to yell about dumb stuff, and he’s going to surprise the hell out of you, and he’s going to leave all his stuff lying around the house like he did when he was little. But he’s gonna change your life, and he’s gonna change it for the better, and I just hope you know what you’re signing up for.”
“I have an idea,” Marco said with a laugh.
Emile grinned at him. Then he looked at me, and I saw him falter again.
He wasn’t nervous. He was just choked up.
“Jean,” he said quietly. “You’re my little brother, and I love you. And I’m supposed to be the one who protects you, and makes sure you’re alright, and teaches you stuff. And you... You’ve done that for me time and again, Jay. I know you don’t need protection anymore. And I know that you’re going to be alright, because you have found someone who really loves you. You found happiness that I have never seen from you before. You have taught me more than I could ever hope to teach you, and I am so fucking proud of you. I am so fucking proud to be your brother, and I am so proud to get the chance to watch you be who you are. As a Kirschtein, that’s all the emotion I’m allowed to show in one sitting, so...” Emile laughed. “Marco-- welcome, brother.”
He made his toast and sat down; I drank too it, but my throat was thick. The rest of the room had started to eat, but Marco was watching me. He leaned over and put his hand on my thigh.
“Are you ok?” he whispered in my ear.
I glanced up at him, nodding and biting my lip... And then I stood up.
I went over to where Emile was sitting at the end of the table, and I pulled him out of his chair; when he stood up, I hugged him hard. One of those good solid masculine hugs, with back slapping.
But I heard the shaky breath my brother let out when he hugged me back.
I let him go, and he called me a loser and I told him to choke on his steak, and when I got back to my seat, I kissed the top of Marco’s head before I sat down again.
*
The fucking wedding cake.
Or more specifically, me being blindsided by that big freckled idiot.
I was going to go at it all gently and romantic and shit, I was respecting Marco and fed him the cake nicely--
And Marco smushed it all over my face.
I couldn’t see him because of the half-smushed sugar rose all up in my goddamned vision, but I could hear him laughing as he ran away and I sprinted after him.
*
Our first dance.
Marco chose the song. I was ok with it; he’s always had better taste in music than me. It was this acoustic cover of 500 Miles, that cheesy eighties song. Except it was perfect, and as dumb as I felt dancing in front of everyone, it was ok.
It was more than ok.
All I wanted to do was hold onto him like that.
“You wanna go high school, sir?” Marco asked teasingly, his arms sliding around my neck.
I held him to me by my hands on his waist. “Unless you know how to salsa.”
Marco laughed softly in my ear. “When was the last time we danced like this?”
“You mean not head-banging to ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’?”
“Yeah. Actual dancing.”
I thought about it as we moved slowly on the dance floor to the beat of the song.
“Last time we danced like this,” I murmured, “was my hospital room.”
Because it was true. That was the last time we danced seriously.
Marco nuzzled his forehead into the side of mine as his reply.
There was a steady stream of more people onto the dance floor, and suddenly we weren’t alone... But we still were.
For a moment, we were back there in that room. And I was shaking in his arms, my legs weak and stiff and hurting so bad, but Marco was holding me up and encouraging me, and that was the moment. That was when we really started being together. The moment when I didn’t let anything keep me away from him.
Not gunshot wounds. Not pain. Not fear. Not insecurity. Not pressure from my family. Nothing.
Nothing could keep me away from him.
Marco kissed my cheek. “What are you thinking about, husband of mine?”
“How I’m gonna tear those pants off of you with my teeth later.”
“Oh, good. Me too.”
We both snorted trying to stifle our laughter, because less than two seconds later, Marco’s tiny Italian grandmother waltzed by. She made impressed noises at Marco’s tattoos, she ran her thin hands across the muscle of my arm in appreciation while she talked to me, and all I could do was hold him and laugh.
*
There were other moments.
When my family left, and even though my mother was stiff, my dad gave me a hug and said, very quietly, that he was proud.
When Marco’s family left for the night, and his mom yanked me down to her height and kissed me on the cheek four or five times.
When Sasha left with Henry, and she said to me, “if you had told me five years ago, Macho Man...” And then she kissed my cheek and left smiling, her son slumped over her shoulder.
When it was just us left -- our friends from college, the guys on the force, and some of Marco’s cousins -- and we were just fucking around, drinking a lot, and dancing to shitty music until like two in the morning.
When we left the party going by itself, and me and Marco went and got our room key.
When it was just me and him in the biggest suite in the inn, and for a minute --
For a minute, before he was kissing me like crazy. Before he was undoing the buttons on my shirt.
Before we spent our first night together married.
Before we started the rest of our lives together.
For a minute, we just looked at each other.
And Marco smiled at me.