Chapter Text
I woke up feeling warm and comfortable in Marcone’s arms, and I absolutely did not want to get out of bed. So, instead I snuggled a little closer, burying my face in his shoulder. I felt his body shake with silent laughter in response.
“Good morning, Harry,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down the back of my head.
“Mornin’,” I replied through a yawn.
Marcone started to stir, and I immediately wound my arms and legs tightly around him, holding him in place with a sound of protest. He chuckled, but gently pushed against me. “We have our wedding reception to get ready for,” he reminded me.
“I don’t want to go,” I muttered pettily. “It’s just politics and small talk.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll do the talking. All you have to do is look pretty.”
I glared up at him. “I’m not your arm candy, scumbag.” I’m not sure how, it definitely wasn’t intentional, but the word ‘scumbag’ sounded a lot more like a term of endearment than it used to.
“No, you’re my husband,” he agreed patiently. “And if I show up to our wedding reception alone, I’m afraid most people will assume that I killed you. Not to mention, Mab will certainly not be pleased if you refuse to show.”
“Excuses, excuses,” I griped, even as I sat up. “You just want to show me off.”
“Mmm. That too,” he admitted, a possessive glint in his eyes as he leaned in for a kiss.
I tried to escalate things, but Marcone put a stop to it, insisting that we needed to start getting ready. I cursed Molly for planning a brunch reception.
Getting ready alongside Marcone was… interesting. I paused in front of the bathroom mirror, noting the bite marks that he’d left over my neck and chest. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had left a hickey on me, but clearly Marcone had wanted to stake his claim.
He came up behind me, reaching up to brush his fingers against one of the marks with a satisfied smirk. “You wear it well.”
I fixed him with a hard look. “You’re going to be freakishly possessive, aren’t you?” I realized.
He flashed his predator’s smile. “Define ‘freakishly’.”
I rolled my eyes and continued on to the shower, glancing back at him when I reached it. “Want to join me?”
“Can you behave yourself?” he asked as though he doubted my ability to do so.
“I will, if you will,” I promised.
And we did… mostly. It was a decent-sized shower, so we really didn’t have to brush up against each other as much as we both did. Our hands kept finding each other under the guise of maneuvering to get under the water, or graciously helping to wash a hard-to-reach area. We weren’t fooling each other, but we also didn’t take it any further. As much as we clearly both wanted to. Marcone was right, I didn’t want to face Mab’s wrath if we showed up late for our wedding reception.
Once we had both showered, groomed, and donned our tuxedos from the previous day, a car arrived to take us back to Willis Tower. The reception was to be in the same room the ceremony had been in, but naturally, Mab was waiting in the hall outside the ballroom for us when we arrived.
“Baron,” she greeted with an incline of her head. “I hope you found our Knight agreeable.”
I felt heat flooding my face. Was the Queen of Air and Darkness seriously asking Marcone if he enjoyed me in bed?
“I did,” he replied agreeably, inclining his head as well.
She gave me a satisfied look, and then turned to the door to the ballroom. “I shall announce your arrival.”
“Oh sure, don’t ask me if I found him agreeable,” I muttered as soon as she was gone.
Marcone regarded me with an amused quirk of his lips, but said nothing.
The first part of the reception was relatively painless. Mab announced us, said a few words about the alliance, and then we were able to eat.
Marcone and I were sat alone at what I had been informed was a “sweetheart table” beneath the same archway we had gotten married under. Instead of the aisle, there was now a white dance floor in front of us, with that snowflake-Municipal Device hybrid in the center. All around the dance floor were other tables, very few of them hosting people that I actually liked. And even after the food was served, people kept looking at us.
For my own sanity, I focused on one of the closer tables where some of the people I’d personally invited sat. Thomas caught my eye and gave me a knowing grin and a wink. I fought the urge to flip him off. Maybe I should just focus on my plate.
As everyone finished eating, the atmosphere shifted subtly. More conversation broke out. Some people got up to dance.
“We should make the rounds,” Marcone said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to me. “Thank everyone for coming.”
“But I’m not grateful,” I pointed out, even as I took his hand and stood.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not Fae, so you can lie and say you are.”
Before Marcone could make a beeline for whatever powerful ally he most wanted to impress, I pulled him over to the table to our left, where my friends were seated. I was starting off easy, and these were the people I was actually grateful to.
“Hey, thanks for coming, you guys,” I said sincerely.
“Of course, Harry,” Georgia said with a smile. “Congratulations?” The sentiment was somewhere between a statement and a question.
“Or condolences,” her husband, Will, continued quietly, his eyes flickering to Marcone.
“Mr. and Mrs. Borden,” Marcone greeted politely, his steel mask firmly in place. “Good to see you again.”
Will grunted while Georgia nodded politely, if warily.
I touched base with Andi, Marci, and Butters, and Sanya greeted Marcone as if he were a good friend, and asked if there was anything he’d like to get off his chest. Marcone, of course, declined.
“You seem to be doing well,” Michael noted as he stood to give me a hug.
“Yeah,” I nodded with a small smile. “I am.”
“I bet,” Thomas said with a suggestive smile, standing as well. He may no longer be a White Court vampire, but I guess some habits died hard. “How was last night?”
“Fine,” I attempted to shrug off.
“Uh-huh.” He reached for the collar of my shirt, pulling it down to reveal the hickey that it had apparently been only partially covering.
“Hey!” I slapped his hand away.
There was a chuckle, and then Marcone’s hand was on the small of my back. “We’re glad you could both be here, gentlemen, but if you’ll excuse us, we need to thank the other guests.”
“Of course,” Michael said with a nod. “Oh, but let me know if you would like us to keep Maggie for another night. She was excited to go to the park with Charity today, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
I opened my mouth to say I’d think about it, but Marcone spoke before I could. “That would be appreciated, thank you.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but decided not to complain. Mostly because I rather liked the idea of spending another night one-on-one with Marcone. It wasn’t like we were getting a honeymoon, after all. And Maggie would understand, I knew.
I reluctantly allowed Marcone to drag me away from my friends’ table, and we started making our way through thanking the rest of our guests. True to his word, Marcone did most of the talking, with me just having to grit my teeth in a smile as he schmoozed the various supernatural powers. I still hated every minute of it. And then we came to the White Court’s table.
“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Lara commented, rising elegantly to her feet as we approached her. “I wasn’t sure you would both survive an evening together.”
“We managed just fine,” Marcone assured with his usual surface-level politeness, extending his hand.
I’d fallen into the role of being mercifully disconnected from all the conversations, and as a result, I didn’t think about the potential problem until just a second before Lara took his hand. “Uh, Lara-” I started, but I was too late. Lara hissed in pain as she jerked her hand back from Marcone’s, her flesh red and blistered.
I hoped I managed to stop my smile from showing on my face. Even knowing what Marcone and I felt for each other, it was nice to see the undeniable proof of it.
Marcone blinked, but he recovered quickly. And I realized that whatever he thought I might have felt for him, he hadn’t been convinced that I actually loved him too. Hey, at least I wasn’t the only one slow to accept these things. “My apologies, I didn’t think,” he said smoothly.
“Yeah, and I realized too late.” I injected a note of apology into my voice, hoping Lara wouldn’t make a scene about being attacked or something dramatic like that. For good measure, I added, “I’d have thought gloves would be standard wedding wear for you.” Putting the fault at least somewhat on her. I also slipped an arm around my husband’s waist because united front and all that.
“Yes, well, I didn’t think it would be necessary at this wedding,” Lara murmured, shaking her head slightly as she covered her blistered hand with the unmarred one.
“You know what they say about assuming,” I said helpfully.
“Harry,” Marcone cut me off pointedly. “Again, I apologize Ms. Raith. It was not intentional.”
She nodded sharply. “You helped my brother, Marcone. We’re even.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement - there would be no more allowances between the two of them - and we moved on to the next table. But as we did, I caught sight of my grandfather a couple tables away. He was watching us, and I could tell from the look on his face that he’d seen what had just happened.
I gave him a half shrug as if to say ‘What can you do?’ It wasn’t like I had gone and chosen to fall in love with John Marcone. And he hadn’t chosen to fall in love with me, either. Sometimes feelings, like fire, roared up into an inferno before you had the chance to safely extinguish them. And then you had two choices: allow it to burn you, or dance in the flames. Thankfully, I’d always liked playing with fire.
Ebenezar let out a sigh and then gave me a faint, jerking nod of his head before he turned and headed for the door. I supposed he’d gotten what he was after in coming here - he knew that I was okay. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid the awkward conversation he would have suffered if he’d stayed. I still had to talk to him, but it still wasn’t the time.
The rest of the reception passed without incident, and Marcone and I even got to enjoy dancing together like it was a real wedding reception instead of an elaborate political statement. I remembered the only other time we’d danced together, when I’d made the realization that I was attracted to him. This time, no thought experiment was necessary to know just how much I enjoyed the feel of his hand in mine, of his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. My hand slid over his shoulder comfortably, as though it belonged there. I couldn’t get enough of touching him.
“So, I guess we’ve got another night to ourselves,” I said softly while we moved to the music. “Thanks to you.”
There was a light in his eyes when they met mine that I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen there before. “If I thought Maggie would be put out by it, I wouldn’t have said anything. But I thought another night for just us would be good.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining.”
His lips twitched into a small smile as he pulled me closer. “Good. When we pick her up tomorrow, we can do something special to celebrate with her.”
I smiled at that. A family outing. I liked the sound of that, and I knew that Maggie would, too.
I lost the beat of the music (if I’d ever had it in the first place) as I reached up to cup Marcone’s cheek and pull him in for a kiss. I could feel eyes on us, but I didn’t care. So what, if people knew that this was real? It was all the more reason not to mess with either of us because the revenge would be personal. Us protecting each other wasn’t just because of some superficial alliance, and any threats we made in defense of the other, people would know that we meant them. I understood Marcone’s stance that feelings could be complicated, could be seen as a weakness to exploit. But in our case, I thought it just made us all the more dangerous. And given the nervous expressions in the room when I broke the kiss, I wasn’t alone in that.
“I love you,” I murmured, my face still close to his.
He dropped my hand, instead moving it to caress my cheek softly. We weren’t really dancing anymore, just holding each other in the middle of the dance floor, but I hardly noticed. My now free hand dropped to his waist, while the other continued holding his face, a mirror of his stance.
Marcone gently guided my head down to rest against his forehead, and I closed my eyes with a contented sigh. “And I love you, Harry Dresden,” he whispered.
I smiled and went in for another kiss.