Chapter Text
“I’m going to throw up,” Jack said from his childhood bed, where he was laying with a pillow over his face.
“No, you aren’t,” Shitty said from the desk chair where he was spinning idly. “It would mess up your outfit, and then Bits will straight-up murder you.”
“Urgh.” Jack pulled the pillow away. “Why is getting married such a production?”
“I don’t know, dude. Why do we let the state govern our intimate relationships? Why has our culture managed to turn the transfer of women as property into a moment of ultimate consumerism? Why are cake smashes so fucking tacky, man? Why anything?”
Lardo threw open the door. “Bitty can’t find his hair stuff. Is it in here?” Jack pointed to the bathroom, and she stomped in. “Jack, my man, stop laying down, if you get wrinkles in that shit we’re gonna have to delay the ceremony to iron.”
“So what, I should just levitate until the photos are taken?” he said, rolling to sit.
“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Lardo said, stomping back out with three of Bitty’s unidentifiable tubes in her hands. “Or just get naked,” she shouted behind her.
“Naked?” Shitty said, reaching for his tie.
“NOT YOU,” Lardo and Jack said simultaneously.
Tired of waiting in his room like a prince in a tower, Jack wandered down to go to the backyard. That was normal, right, for him to be involved in the set up? He opened up the French doors onto the porch, and immediately took a football to the chest. He fumbled it for a moment and finally managed to hold onto it. “Ow?”
“Sorry, son,” his dad said, coming over. “I didn’t get your flower, did I?”
Jack examined his boutiniere, which was fine. His chest hurt, because footballs were pointy, but that was apparently secondary today. “I’m fine. What are you doing?”
“Richard is trying to teach me to throw a spiral.” He gestured to Bitty’s dad, who was standing with him at one end of the porch. They’d both draped their jackets over chairs, and set up a hula hoop at the other end to throw the ball at. “I’m terrible, I can’t throw straight to save my life.”
“You’re improving,” Richard said, which meant he was pretty bad.
“Bitty loves taking me bowling,” Jack said. “Because he wins by a hundred points each time.” He threw the ball over to Richard; it tumbled end-over-end in exactly the way it wasn’t supposed to.
“I guess y’all are specialists,” Richard said, with a shrug.
Jack wandered out to where the chairs were set up, on the wooden stage platform they used to cover the ice rink when it was too warm to keep it properly frozen. Ransom, Holster, and Tater were trying to make sure all the decorations were properly arranged. “You guys doing okay?”
“No,” said Tater. “Is disaster. You sure you and Bitty need to marry?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “You want me to get Lardo?”
“No, she have important job. Need to keep Bitty from going insane.”
“Get somebody’s mom. Moms know how to do this shit,” Ransom said, tangled up in a bunch of tulle.
“That’s gender essentialist,” Jack muttered under his breath, because he had been spending entirely too much time with Shitty ranting about compulsory heteronormativity in the run up to the wedding. Jack just hoped he kept it out of the actual ceremony text; Bitty had demanded final script approval, but Shitty had been known to improvise. He looked around the yard; his mom was nowhere he could see, but Suzanne was fussing away at the pre-ceremony hors d’œuvres table, so he headed for her. “Hi, Suzanne? I think the boys need help with decorating.”
“Oh!” she said, startling away from fiddling with the flowers. “Oh my goodness, they really don’t have any clue, do they.”
Jack looked over. Ransom was climbing on Holster’s shoulders to try to get the chuppah centered, while Tater kept yelling “Left! Right! No, other right!” to try to direct them. Eventually, they knocked it down. “Not in the least.”
“Lord’s sakes. Don’t they all work at the bar? Haven’t they ever had to decorate anything?”
“Bitty handles most of the day-to-day decor. And Lardo’s the designer. Holster’s the money guy and—“ Um. “And anyway, Tater’s a hockey player, all he knows how to do is knock smaller guys over.”
Suzanne looked over at Jack and smirked. “Jack. Do you honestly think I don’t know how to google?”
“Um.” Jack didn’t know precisely what she was saying.
“Dicky posted a very nice video of Justin dancing on the Wildcats’ Twitter last week,” she said, patting his arm.
“Um,” Jack said, trying not to turn too pink.
“Probably best Richard hasn’t figured it out yet,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll just go help them out.” She headed over towards the chairs.
“Yeah,” Jack said to himself, and blew out a breath. “There’s no way that’s not going to end up being awkward.”
He avoided people for a while longer, eventually wandering back into the house and heading to his parents’ room. His mom was in there, finishing her makeup. He remembered being a child in this room, watching her get ready for parties, for galas, for meetings with producers, the precision with which she wielded her tools, the focus in her eyes. « Can I hide in here? » he asked.
« Sure, darling, » she said. « What’s happening outside? »
« Things, » he said, sitting down on the bed.
« Too much? »
« Basically. » He watched her as she put down one brush, picked up another. « It’s not a bad thing that I’m nervous, right? »
« You’ve never liked being on stage, » maman said. « You always want to have a job, and today your only job is to be stared at. So it makes perfect sense that you’re nervous. »
« It doesn’t secretly mean I’m going to be a terrible husband? »
« You’re already a good husband, » she said. « Today you’re just throwing a party about it. » She applied her lipstick with care, and then set it down. « I’m finished. Let’s go downstairs. It will be photo time soon. »
He stood up and offered her a hand. « You look wonderful. »
« So do you, sweetheart. » Maman kissed him on the cheek, looped her arm in his, and guided him to the staircase.
They were talking quietly about the music as they came around the turn in the stairs, and then Jack pulled up short and nearly missed the next step, because Bitty was standing in the living room, his hair shining bright in the sun streaming in through the picture windows, his back straight and his smile soft. His mother was standing in front of him, holding his hands and talking to him in a quiet voice. “Oh,” Jack said quietly, and Bitty looked up at him. Their eyes met, and Jack felt his smile growing across his face.
“Oh, darling,” Maman said. “Come on. You’ll feel better when you and Eric are together.”
He did, always. He vaguely heard the camera shutter noise from somewhere behind him, and supposed that later he would be glad the photographer was capturing this, but it didn’t seem important, not next to getting within touching distance of Bitty. His mother let go of his arm, and Bitty’s mother put her hands on Bitty’s back and guided him forward. Bitty stepped into Jack’s arms and rested his head against his chest. “Hi,” Jack whispered, pulling him closer.
Bitty took a deep breath. “Hi. Don’t mess up my hair.”
“Okay,” Jack said, and closed his eyes.
Soon it was time for pre-wedding photos, and for greeting guests as they started to trickle in, and for being pried apart from Bitty for reasons that Suzanne said were ‘traditional’ and Shitty muttered were ‘patriarchal bullshit.’ (“Isn’t that the same thing?” Jack said. “Brah, you’re picking up what I’m putting down,” Shitty said proudly, offering a fist bump.) And then it was time, finally, the guests nudged to their seats by the collective efforts of Tater and Holster, the music at the right volume, Shitty waiting under the chuppah with his notecards, Jack and Bitty standing back on the porch with their parents, waiting for their cue.
“Well, son? You ready?” Papa asked him.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Bits?”
“Absolutely,” Bitty said, and took Jack’s hand. “Okay, give Lardo the cue.”
Alicia waved, and Lardo fiddled with the sound system. The string music that Bitty had picked after a long and elaborate decision began to play.
“Wait,” Papa said. “Did we ever decide which parents go first?”
Everyone looked around, hoping that someone else had the answer. “Um,” Bitty said. “Any ideas?”
After a long hesitation, Papa spoke. “Suzanne? May I have the honor?” he said, holding out his arm.
Suzanne laughed. “Well, certainly, Bob. Why not?”
Richard turned to Maman. “Ms. Alicia?”
“What a gentleman,” she said, stepping in to take his arm.
Papa and Suzanne stepped off first, with Maman and Richard following closely. “Okay, that’s actually kind of darling,” Bitty said under his breath.
“Yeah,” Jack said.
Bitty looked up at him, and his smile was the widest Jack had ever seen. “What do you say, Mr. Zimmermann? Ready for me to make an honest man out of you?” He held out his hand.
“I love you,” Jack said, and took it.
“I love you, sweetheart,” Bitty said. “Come on. Let’s kick this party off.”
“Okay,” Jack said.
They turned to face forward together, and stepped off up the aisle.