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“Raymond, that’s the third victim this week.” The voice speaking is low and urgent. “Surely there must be something we can do.”
“James,” the reply is wrought and throaty, carrying the weight of ages, “if we don’t figure out a way to solve this, I fear we’re all doomed.”
Dramatic music swells—
“Knock knock.”
Over the background noise of the television (he’d turned it on as distraction, and been rather amused to discover a syndicate station playing an early season two episode of Darkest Night) the muffled voice coming through the heavy panel door is accompanied by the sound of knuckles wrapping twice, in quick succession, against the hardwood.
Tony looks up from futzing with his tie in the mirror – trusting his reflection is getting him nowhere and he’s about ready to strangle himself with the damn thing – and calls out, “Who is it?” There are a select few people he’s willing to tolerate right now.
“It’s Henry.”
Fortunately, Henry is one of them.
“Get your ass in here, Henry!” Tony instructs and whips the tie off of his neck in frustration. He turns to see Henry slipping carefully through the door, only allowing it open wide enough and long enough to let himself in before closing it behind him. At least one of them is taking tradition seriously (Tony certainly isn’t). Though, the last person who’d joked about ‘the groom not seeing the bride’ had gotten a size eleven oxford upside the head (as it had been Sergeant Jack Elson, Tony didn’t feel the least bit guilty).
“Trouble?” Henry asks, eyeing him with a smirk and a lifted brow; both of which are angled quite sardonically.
“It’s this damn tie.” Tony thrusts the scrap of slickery satin out at him. “I should’ve gone with a clip-on.”
Henry snorts, nose wrinkling in disdain just as Tony knew it would. “For an occasion like this, Tony, I think you can suffer through something a bit traditional.” Despite the chastisement, he takes the tie and then circles a finger, instructing Tony to turn around.
Tony does, watching in the mirror as Henry’s hands reach over his neck and expertly loop the black fabric along his stiff, white collar before playing out the lengths with careful adjustments. “I should’ve just found some kind of spell for this.”
The snort sounds again, but this time it’s more amusement than admonishment. “Does something like that exist?” he asks, his fingers already deftly working the ends of the tie around each other in some kind of complex dance of loops and knotwork that Tony couldn’t repeat if his life depended on it.
He meets Henry’s eyes in the mirror. “Well, there’s a spell for tying things up that I’ve had fun with once or twice, but I don’t think that would come in handy right now.” He flashes a wicked grin, and sees it echoed back at him. It always amuses him to see Henry’s reflection in a mirror. Even Henry doesn’t know where the rumor about vampires and reflections started (that, along with every other piece of vampire lore he’s ever heard, have been discussed – at vitriolic length - any time Henry spots them in a movie, or television show that Tony makes him watch).
“There,” Henry proclaims a moment later, giving a final tightening tug and drawing Tony’s gaze back to his own reflection.
The bow-tie is perfect. Even, neat and straight. “Thanks, Henry. You’re a lifesaver.”
Henry steps to the side and motions for Tony to step back with him. They stand side-by-side, and Henry eyes them both critically in the mirror.
Tony’s got to admit he’s probably never looked so put-together. He’s worn monkey-suits before, but nothing quite like this. The cut of his tuxedo is flattering, the color a smooth, flat ebony with minimal satin trim that enhances his – in his not-so-humble opinion - rather trim, ‘wizard-stuff slash does Pilates with Lee on the weekend sometimes’ physique. His shirt is crisp and cool white, the collar straight and the buttons gleaming chips of black mother-of-pearl set in silver. His waistcoat (he lost the argument of vest versus cummerbund, although he only argued for the latter because it’s a fun word to say) is a subtly patterned charcoal on black.
“I’m rockin’ this look,” he tells Henry, grinning like a fool.
Henry rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. “It’s a good look on you, Tony.” And Tony knows he doesn’t only mean the suit.
“You too, Henry.”
Henry is dressed to match; though his tie and waistcoat are a deep oxford blue. The color – one of the few that wouldn’t clash with either Amy or Henry’s hair (though since Amy’s came in a bottle, Tony doesn’t think it’s fair that she got a vote) – makes Henry’s hazel eyes skew more teal than amber. Heaven help the ladies, or men, if Henry goes on the prowl tonight.
“You’re missing one thing, though,” Henry notes critically.
Tony blinks. “What?” He looks himself up and down in the mirror. “What’s missing?” He starts to pat himself down and then notices it. “Oh!” He raises both arms and sticks his hands out as far as they’ll go. The ends of his shirt sleeves are hanging loose. “Cufflinks.” He glances around. “Cufflinks… cufflinks…, uhh—” There should be a little cardboard box somewhere around here. He knows he picked them up with the tux…
“Here.” Henry’s voice stops his frantic search.
Relieved, Tony turns to him and is about to take the box he’s holding out when he realizes that it’s not the flimsy cardboard that came from the Men’s formalwear store, but instead an actual wooden box. It’s intricately carved and polished smooth by years of handling. He looks up at Henry, a question on his lips that doesn’t need to be asked.
“Open it,” Henry instructs. His cupid’s bow mouth is curved in a grin that Tony recognizes as impish.
Tony does. Inside are a set of cufflinks set against crushed black velvet. They’re clearly old, and very obviously rather adored. Sapphires twinkle against inlaid black enamel all caught in age-polished silver. They’re not the newer style, with a swiveling post on one end, but instead two matching pieces connected by three flat links.
“May I?” Henry asks, and there’s a note of ceremony to the words.
Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Tony nods. He holds out an arm, wrist close to Henry’s hands.
Henry, naturally, begins to deftly work the links through the buttonholes while still holding the box in his hand. “These,” he begins, eyes fixed on his fingers, “belonged to an old friend of mine. He was,”—there’s a pause that’s considering in its silence—“someone I cared for very much. One of the few mortals I allowed myself to get close to in my early years. I was, oh,” he shrugs. “Maybe two-hundred, two-hundred and fifty at the time.”
“Oh, only,” Tony says with feigned nonchalance.
Henry smiles. “Yes, just a pup. Anyway, these were a gift from me to him. Once he was gone, they were the only memento I kept of him.” He laughs a little, softly. It’s not sad though, as Tony may have expected. “If I’d kept any more than the occasional piece of jewelry or bric-a-brac from my various paramours over the years, I’d have to rent a storage unit for all of it.” He switches to the other cuff. “Anyway, they fulfill three of the criteria.”
Tony twists his mouth to the side before asking. “What three criteria?”
Finished, Henry steps back and pockets the little wooden box. His expression is utterly unrepentant when he replies, “Old, borrowed and blue.”
Tony groans. “Oh, I really should’ve seen that coming.” He blows out another breath and gives in to the inevitable. “Well, I suppose the tux is new, so I’m all set, right?” He shakes out his sleeves again, getting used to the way the cufflinks add that little extra weight at his wrists.
“Well, you’re missing the sixpence in your shoe.” At Tony’s frown Henry explains, “It’s how the traditional rhyme ends. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in your shoe.”
“Oh, well, that might’ve worked if I was wearing Penny Loafers.” Tony chuckles at his own joke and kicks out a foot, shaking his neatly pressed trouser cuff away from his shiny black oxfords. “Guess I’ll have to hope the rest of the somethings are lucky enough.”
Henry laughs. “I’m sure they will be.” He reaches out to wipe away a spec of nonexistent dust from Tony’s lapel. “Speaking of lucky, Lee is—“
“More than a Toronto street hustler like me deserves,” Tony interrupts, smirking?
“No,” Henry insists. “He’s exactly what a courageous, stalwart and wonderful man like you deserves. And Lee is lucky to have you.”
Tony ducks his head, “Aww, Henry—“
Luckily he’s interrupted in getting all emotional by a knock at the door. “Who’s there?” he calls out.
“It’s Vicki,” Henry answers, just as Vicki announces herself through the door, “It’s just Vicki, Tony. Can I come in?”
He looks to Henry first. The pair of them had put most of their territorialism behind them a long time ago, but they’re still vampires, and it’s still a small room. Plus, he suspects that in this case – when it’s about him – they might get a little proprietary. But Henry nods so Tony replies, “Yeah, c’mon in, Victory!”
Henry is Tony’s best man, but Vicki is going to walk him down the aisle. Tony thinks it’s probably pretty symbolic, and a fair compromise to both. Vicki is more like a mother to him that his own Mom ever was (not that he’ll ever, in a million years, tell her she’s mom-like) and since she’s the one who ushered him into the life he’s got now (by introducing him to Henry all those years ago) it’s only apt for her to escort him into the next phase of it.
Vicki comes into the room but she’s not alone; Mike Celluci follows after her, hurrying to close the door at Vicki’s urging. “Hey, kid,” Celluci greets. The pair of them look like a magazine ad for some kind of high-end department store; him in a dark-suit, Vicki elegant in a not at all matronly dress.
“Over thirty, Celluci,” Tony protests, feeling a little weirded out at seeing his friends looks so… nice.
Mike snorts. At least the attitude hasn’t changed. “Still a kid to me.”
Henry sniffs. “Perhaps, I should—“ It’s getting a bit crowded in the little room (Lee got the larger ‘bridal room’ because his Mother and Sister and Grandmother were all likely to hover, so Tony happily accepted the smaller nursing room to get ready).
“No,” Mike argues, “I was just gonna be a sec. Just, Tony, the rest of the wedding party is waiting in the narthex with Pastor Dan. They’re getting ready to start down the aisle in a couple of minutes.”
Tony nods and swallows. “Okay. Thanks, Celluci.”
Mike claps Tony on the shoulder, gives him a rough sort of shake and says, “You got this, kid.”
Vicki rolls her eyes, but Tony just grins, all cocky bravado. “You know it, Celluci. Tell them all I’ll just be a mo’, would ya?” He still drops back into ‘street kid’ around Celluci sometimes.
“Will do,” Mike agrees. “See ya out there.” He slips back out of the room.
“I should make him walk with us,” Vicki grumbles. “Do him some good.”
“Uh uh.” Tony shakes his head. “That’d put Celluci in the father-of-the-bride role and… no, just no.” He says it with a snicker, though Mike Celluci is a far, far better man that Tony’s old man ever was. Plus, no way is Tony the bride.
Vicki grins unrepentant. “Yeah, exactly.”
“I think I’ll join the good Detective out in the narthex,” Henry says, inclining his head towards Vicki.
Tony doesn’t wince, though he wants to, because Henry makes it seem like he’s granting Vicki some kind of approbation, which she’s not going to take very well.
“Oh, like I need your permission to be alone with Tony?”
And yep… there it is. Vampire territorialism rearing its ugly head.
“Not at all, Vicki.” Henry lies smoothly (because Tony knows that’s really what it is).
Before eyes can start silvering or fangs start flashing Tony holds up both hands, the flat of each palm aimed at either of them. “Enough. Tony is his own man. And you guys are not vampire battling at my wedding.”
Henry is instantly contrite. “My apologies, Tony.”
“Yeah, sorry, Tony.” Vicki’s a little less shamed, but she still un-bristles.
Tony nods. “Okay, good.” He turns to Henry. “Me and Victory are gonna need a minute. Tell everyone we’ll get started in just a few.”
Henry nods. “I’ll see you out there. You do look great, Tony.”
“Thanks, Henry.”
Once he’s out of the room, Tony turns back to Vicki. He can’t help it; he holds his arms out and says, “Well, what’d’ya think?”
Vicki gives him a thorough once-over. For a moment he’s reminded of the way she used to look at him when she was a cop and he was on the street; eyeing him carefully to see if he’d been getting enough to eat, and if he was using, and whether or not anyone was treating him too rough. It’s a weird sort-of déjà vu. But Vicki just smiles wide, showing a bit of teeth. “Like the man said, Tony, you look great.”
Tony feels his cheeks heat.
“So do you, Victory.” He counters, because Vicki is pretty smokin’ in her dress. It’s a soft blue-grey that misses being pastel by the thinnest margin. A simple halter with a beaded bodice, it’s got a short, three-quarter sleeve jacket over it that keeps it from being too sexy (though he knows it’s a legit mother-of-the-bride dress and everything). Geez, his wedding party his gonna look pretty damn GQ.
Vicki snorts. “You’re lucky I love ya, Tony. You’re one of the few reasons I’d ever willingly put on pantyhose.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” And he may say it sarcastically, but Tony means it.
“So, you ready for this?” she asks.
Tony nods. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am.” He draws in a steeling breath. “Look, Vicki. I just wanna say thank you.” Before Vicki can wave that off, Tony pushes on. He’s said this kind of stuff to Henry plenty of times, but he’s never really gotten the chance to say this to Vicki. “I mean, not only for walking me down the aisle and stuff, but for everything. From the beginning. Henry may have brought me to Vancouver and pushed me to better myself, but you started lookin’ out for a good-for-nothing street-kid for no damn reason, other than you being a hell of a person. The first time you busted me for turning tricks, and for the drugs, you could’ve just thrown me in the system and forgot about me. But you got me a damn sandwich, Vicki. I just…” He sniffs, fighting down the emotion clogging his throat. He remembers that sandwich. It was roast beef with cheddar on thick sourdough.
“I’m about to get married, Victory. Me. And, to the most amazing guy in the world. Not to mention, he’s like, super-hot.” They both chuckle, and Tony ducks his head. “I don’t really know what kinda fate brought me here, but I know I wouldn’t be here without you. So uh, thanks.”
Vicki’s eyes look suspiciously silver, and Tony doesn’t think it’s the vampire thing. “You caught a rough break early on, Tony. You deserved so much better.” She draws him close. “I’m glad you got it.”
Tony just soaks it in. Vicki’s embrace is warm and protective and… getting a little tight. “Uh, Victory,” he squeaks out. “Ease up a bit?”
Vicki lets him go. “Sorry, Tony. Sometimes I forget the ol’ preternatural strength thing.”
Like hell she forgets, but Tony waves it away. He steps back and tugs his jacket straight.
“So you ready to head out and face the music?” she asks.
Tony nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Vicki opens the door for him and waves him through. “After you.”
Mike hadn’t been exaggerating; the entire wedding party is congregating in the foyer of the church (narthex, he corrects himself, because he learned all the proper terms and stuff).
Luckily, Tony’s side seems to be mingling with Lee’s well enough. Tony had been a bit worried until Lee reminded him that his family is pretty used to ‘TV people’. Tony hadn’t bothered to remind Lee that in this case ‘TV people’ also included vampires, and wizards and cops (oh my).
The only people Tony doesn’t see are Lee and his mother.
Kyle, Lee’s brother, comes over and gives Tony a smothering, back-slapping hug. “Heya, Tony. Lee and Mom are almost ready.” He steps back, giving Tony the same once-over that everyone else has. “Lookin’ good, man. You and Lee are gonna look so great up there.” He chuffs out a laugh. “Mom keeps tearing up every time she looks at Lee and keeps smudging her make-up. They’ll be just a minute.”
Jess, Lee’s older sister joins them. She holds out a boutonniere; an elegant calla lily with two minuscule ivory rosebuds. “You’re missing your flowers, Tony.”
“Uh?” Tony says, because he’s never dealt with a boutonniere in his life.
“Just like Junior prom,” Kyle mutters and winks.
Tony just laughs a little wildly. He really wouldn’t know.
Jess rolls her eyes. “Here,” she hands off her own bouquet to Kyle – a sculpted bunch of bright, hot pinkish orange roses (also Amy’s idea, they certainly pop against the rich midnight of the dresses) – and grabs Tony’s lapel. “You men are so helpless,” she chides, but she’s starting to sniffle. “I don’t know how you and Lee are going to manage.” Her lower lip is practically wibbling.
“Hey, Jess,” Tony says gently (she’s jabbing a pin close to his chest, he doesn’t want her to get all teary-eyed and miss). “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”
Stepping back, Jess eyes her handiwork and nods. She sniffs, hard, and blinks several times. “I know, Tony. I know.”
Fortunately, before she can start to get worked up again, Tony hears Lee’s Mom. “Jess! Oh, Jessica come here. I need the lipstick again.” Jess shares a quick, commiserating smile with Tony and then turns back into the crowd to find her Mom.
Though, if Lee’s Mom is out of the dressing room, that means…
Lee.
He’s standing apart from everyone else, tugging at his bowtie. He looks like… like he came out of a catalogue, or a guide for ‘how to wear a tux and look like sex on legs’. Tony feels instantly frumpy, but at the same time he couldn’t care less. He has another of those ‘how did I get so lucky’ moments, though it’s warring with a ‘what in the hell is a guy like this doing with a guy like me’ sensation.
Lee must feel Tony’s eyes on him (either that or he’s picked up some kind of extra sensory ‘Tony is drooling over me’ skill, which Tony wouldn’t put past him) because he looks up and their eyes meet.
Tony half expects there to be music swelling and fireworks and rainbows.
The corner of Lee’s mouth curls up and he gives Tony a slow, leering, full-body once-over. Tony can’t hear him, since he’s all the way across the foyer, but he can read Lee’s lips and that was clearly (and flatteringly) a ‘wow’.
“You too,” Tony mouths back. He puts his hand over his heart and mimes it pounding out of his chest ala a cartoon wolf.
Lee’s grin grows wider and a bit goofy.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tony says, near silently but enunciating every word carefully.
“I know!” Lee enunciates back. “Isn’t it awesome?” (At least Tony’s pretty sure that’s what he says.)
Luckily – before Tony and Lee can devolve into semaphore - Pastor Dan claps his hands, calling for attention. “All right, everyone.” He’s got a genial smile, a booming voice and is skilled at commanding a room. “Let’s get started, shall we.”
They did a walk-through at the rehearsal the night prior, so everyone knows the order they’re walking down the aisle and things aren’t too chaotic as they begin. Once the Pastor heads to the altar, a lovely piano piece begins over the PA system (Zev coordinated the music).
Two of Lee’s nieces are first in the procession, carrying baskets filled with flower petals. They’re Jess’ girls; one is six and the other four, and they kind of adore Tony. It’s difficult for Tony to see them as they make the walk, but he can hear lots of ‘awws’ coming from the guests.
The first of their attendants (groomsmen and groomsmaids, Amy insists they should be called) to walk down are Lee’s sister Jess, and Zev. She hooks her arm around Zev’s, while he lifts a hand to make sure his yarmulke is firmly in place, and then they begin their march.
Jack Elson (he and Lee have become really good friends over the last couple of years) steps into place next, and he has to hook out an arm to drag Amy to his side from where she’s having an animated discussion with Vicki (Tony really doesn’t want to know). Amy’s hair is almost the exact same shade as the dress, with two hot-pink streaks (that match the flowers) framing her face. It’s pretty cool, actually.
Once they’re halfway down the aisle, Mason steps into place like he’s looking for his mark. Brianna Bane takes a demonstrative lunge forward and hooks herself to his arm like a limpet. She’s sixteen and just growing out of her awkward, gangling early teens into a very lovely young woman. There’s quite a bit of her mother’s exotic beauty in her, and once she realizes that Tony knows she’s going to be a heartbreaker. Topping that with the fact that she’s a pretty skilled young wizard already, Tony fears for any boys (or girls, she’s confessed to him that she’s mixed up in her feelings on that topic) that fall into her orbit. She practically drags Mason along with her.
Kyle, as Lee’s best man, and Henry, as Tony’s, are the last pair to line up.
Early on, when they were first idly making wedding plans, Tony had worried that Kyle might not be comfortable with the idea of being matched up in the wedding party with another man, but his fears were wholly unfounded. Kyle is laid back, and completely cool with it (he’s been Lee’s confidant since they were kids, and was the first to know of his brother’s same-sex inclinations). He mutters something low out of the side of his mouth and whatever it is, it catches Henry off guard enough to startle him into a genuine chuckle.
Again, Tony is probably better off not knowing.
Lee approaches then. “Well, here we go,” he quips to Tony, even as his Mom fusses with his lapels.
“Oh you boys,” she sniffles. “You’re both so handsome. I’m just so happy for you.”
“C’mon, Mom.” Lee says, though he’s grinning rather wide, and taking her arm. “You don’t want to spoil your makeup again.”
Tony and Lee had decided the ‘who gets to walk down first’ decision with a coin flip. Tony lost. He knows that’s why he was the butt of a few ‘bride’ jokes (though Amy’s penchant for fiercely lambasting anyone who risks one with a – somewhat incomprehensible – rant about heteronormativity and gender bias, pretty much stopped that cold).
Tony doesn’t mind; he’s looking forward to seeing Lee waiting for him.
“See you on the other side,” Lee says, throwing Tony a final quick wink before he turns and begins his march. He’s so casual and graceful, walking the center aisle like he’s done it a hundred times and Tony can see him angle his head down slightly when they’re halfway down, likely to share some humorous aside with his Mom. He’s probably gossiping about someone in his family and the hideous outfit they’re wearing.
“C’mon, loverboy,” Vicki says, tugging him to the doorway. “And wipe that goofy smile off your face. Someone might think you’re getting married or something.”
Tony just grins wider.
The music swells into something high, with lovely strings and a sweeping guitar. Tony immediately knows that Zev composed it just for him.
The first few steps feel like he’s wading through treacle. All eyes are on him as he takes that slow, steady walk.
The church is split in the traditional bride side/groom side (except it’s groom side/other groom side). Lee’s somewhat large extended family and his friends fill out the left section of pews. Tony’s only a little bit surprised to see that his own side is nearly as full.
His ‘family’ is made up of the people he spends most of his life with these days; the crew and cast of Darkest Night. They’re all there. The people he’s worked side-by-side with for the last eight years: the office staff, the soundstage crew, the grips and craft services people, the location people and the stunties, even the writers and a few recurring cast and guest actors. Heck, even the show’s newest PA – only a week and a half on the job before they broke for hiatus – is amongst the guests.
Plus, like any family, they’ve all contributed in their own little ways. Everett did everyone’s makeup (but don’t quote him on that), Tina helped coordinate the little programs that got handed out to all the guests, Rachel had assisted in the overall planning of the day, Pavin is the one running the music that Zev had put together, Allison (who took over in wardrobe for Barb after the Caulfield House), had a hand in some final pinning and tucking and making last minute dress alterations, and Seleen and Adam had helped with ‘set dressing’ (as Adam had called it – Tony called it decorating the church).
CB even went so far as to offer up the studio itself for the reception (to be catered by their regular craft services folks).
Sorge has got his video equipment set-up in a back corner and has promised edits, though Mouse is doing the actual recording of the ceremony, and Tony can see the lens of the camera tracking his walk. Even Kate – who’s never truly warmed to Tony - had volunteered as a photographer because amateur photography is a hobby of hers (and her stuff is pretty good) and she’s snapping pictures by the dozens if the constant camera flashes are anything to go by.
Knowing that this is being captured for posterity doesn’t make the walk any easier. But all Tony has to do is shift his gaze to the man waiting for him at the end of it. Lee’s watching him like he’s the only other person on the planet. The hungry, eager weight of his regard draws Tony forward.
He and Vicki stop at the end of the nave beside the first line of pews. “Go get him, tiger,” Vicki instructs with a low laugh. She kisses Tony’s cheek and then takes her place in the first row, next to Mike (and CB who has – for reason Tony’s not going to consider – insisted upon pride of place).
Tony takes that final step.
“Hey,” he says softly, as he moves into place beside Lee. It’s silly. He just saw the man not two minutes ago, but for some reason this feels… different.
“Hey, yourself.” Lee whispers back.
They share a meaningful grin. Then Pastor Dan clears his throat and begins.
The ceremony passes in a blur.
Lee’s parents had asked very nicely – not insisted, so Tony acquiesced without a moment’s hesitation – if they might consider getting married in their church (“It’s very progressive!” Lee’s mother had gushed. “The Pastor married two lesbian ladies just last week.”).
Lee had been raised Lutheran, and while Tony’d been baptized Catholic and gone to a Catholic grade school, his experiences with the clergy since then (he’d been visited more than once by man in a collar when he was still turning tricks) put him firmly off of that branch of Christianity. But since he hadn’t really identified himself with any religion in his adulthood (the few weeks he was dating Zev and trying to wrap his head around Judaism notwithstanding) they’d easily compromised on the Lutheran service.
Tony had paid better attention last night during the rehearsal, and he knows it’s really a very lovely service. It’s not too preachy or long-winded. There’s only one actual Bible reading – 1 Corinthians 13:7, which is pretty harmless as far as he’s concerned – and both Amy and Jess recite passages from poems that Tony is arsed if he can remember right now.
He’s lucky Sorge & Mouse are getting all of this on video!
Tony wants to focus, and he tries, but he just too busy staring at Lee.
He’s devastatingly handsome. Just… everything that Tony never knew he could dream of having. He’s actually still not entirely convinced that this is real.
And he’s marrying this man. He gets to spend the rest of his life with him.
Tony was pretty sure, from a very early age, that he’d never get a ‘happily ever after’. He’d done too many bad things and lived too rough and never quite felt like he would ever be good enough. And yet, he’s getting it. It’s happening right now.
They begin the ring exchange portion of the ceremony. Henry hands them over with great solemnity.
Tony manages not to fumble his, and he slides it on Lee’s fingers with shaking hands. He repeats words that Pastor Dan feeds to him, without really hearing what he’s saying.
He feels a bit better when it’s Lee’s turn and the hand that holds Tony’s while he works the ring (a simple platinum band inscribed with some very carefully chosen symbols) up the length of Tony’s finger is trembling. Lee’s voice – an actor’s voice that’s used to reciting lines upon lines – actually wavers when it’s his turn.
Pastor Dan smiles beatifically when they’ve finished and are standing before him, be-ringed with hands clasped in a tight knot. “These rings represent a symbol of your unending love for—“
“I OBJECT!”
The voice, loud and sonorous, carries through the church like a wave, crashing over them all and subsuming everyone into quiet shock and silence.
Tony and Lee turn as one towards the doors of the church. Tony watches as every head in the pews also swivels around.
“That’s not even the right time to object,” Amy protests halfheartedly.
“Please be a joke,” Tony whispers, “please be some really bad joke,” even as the commotion that started at the far end of the nave makes its way towards them. He can see two men stalking down the aisle toward them purposefully, and the muttering their very vocal entrance caused grows to a low, roiling sort of alarm.
“What the hell?” Lee blurts out, jaw dropping wide.
Tony’s about to chastise him – swearing in church – but then he sees what Lee’s looking at. Or who.
Raymond Dark and James Taylor Grant have come to a stop at the limit of the pews.
And there’s no question to Tony that it’s Raymond Dark and James Taylor Grant, not just doppelgangers of their actors. They look just like the men who portray them, but wholly different at the same time. James has his shoulders back in the way that Lee never carries himself in real life, and Raymond’s whole demeanor has a slightly threatening air to it that reminds Tony just a bit of Henry.
They’re staring up at Tony and Lee – well, more specifically at Lee – kind of incredulously.
Mason, who accepted being one of Lee’s groomsman grudgingly (he’d been angling for Best Man or nothing at all, but finally caved when it was explained that Lee wanted his actual brother to have that honor), steps past Kyle to stand next to Lee.
Tony’s not sure if it’s in solidarity, or just that Mason hates not being the center of attention when things are even remotely related to him, which this certainly is. Raymond and James shift their attention to him.
“What is going on here?” Raymond demands.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” James adds, looking like he can’t decide who he wants to glower at more, Lee or the man he’s marrying.
“Holy shit,” Tony mutters, incredulous. “Like, I read a Star Trek fanfiction about this once. But, holy shit.” He waves a hand towards the two men who look about two seconds from taking some kind of drastic action. “I mean, talk about a visit to a weird planet revisited.”
Lee and Henry both snort. Tony knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it.
This is just so… so…
Them.
The audience in the church seems equal parts split between confusion and fascination (the latter coming mostly from Tony’s side of the church which, since it’s almost wholly made up of cast and crew of Darkest Night, are people who are ‘in the know’ on the whole wizard thing). All that Tony can think is that they’re going to have a hell of a time explaining this, no matter what ends up being the reason it’s happening.
“What I wouldn’t give for a crate of Retcon,” he says, mostly to himself.
“Hey,” Lee says just as softly, into Tony’s ear. “At least you’re not pregnant with alien spawn on your wedding day, right?”
And if he wasn’t literally standing at the altar with Lee right now, Tony would have no choice but to marry the guy. He looks away from the impossibility of their new ‘guests’ to gaze adoringly into Lee’s eyes. “God, I love you. I thought you were just watching that to humor me.”
Lee wrinkles his nose rather adorably. “Well, it was partly that and partly—“
“John Barrowman,” Tony supplies.
They share a smile.
“Hey!”
Oh yeah.
Television characters come to life and interrupting his wedding. Tony really needs to focus.
“You, step away from James!” This is practically bellowed by Raymond Dark and clearly directed at Tony.
“Solve this and then get hitched?” Lee asks, mouth close to his ear, and Tony has no idea how, but the man is once again wearing that laughing sort of mad grin. His green eyes are practically sparking with devilish mirth.
“Damn straight,” Tony agrees.
Lee lifts an eyebrow.
Tony rolls his eyes.
“Tony?” Henry says from somewhere just behind him. Both physically and symbolically Tony knows that Henry’s got his back. And though things could get a little hairy since, apparently, Raymond is an actual vampire, Tony’s not going to ask for Henry’s kind of help just yet.
“We got this, Henry,” he responds, speaking for both himself and Lee.
They both turn back to Raymond and James once again. “Gentleman,” Tony begins, spreading his hands in a ‘calm the crazies’ sort of way. “I know things look a little strange to you right now, and I’m sure you’re confused, and clearly upset, but I promise you that we can explain everything.”
“Right,” Lee agrees. “We absolutely can.”
Both heads turn to Mason, who can only nod. “What they said,” he agrees, thumbing a gesture to Lee and Tony.
Luckily, Raymond Dark is a thoughtful, careful sort wholly unlike the actor who plays him. “By all means then,” he invites, but he also curls a lip away from a glistening fang.
From somewhere in the audience Tony hears, “Hey, we got that effect down pretty good!” (Probably Peter).
“Look, just…” Tony waves his splayed hands towards the small crowd in the pews. “Gimme a quick second.” He shifts his focus for a moment to address their guests (Lee’s poor parents look utterly dumbfounded). “Uh, folks, things will get back underway in just a few minutes. We’ve got, um…” And this is where Tony loses it, because how the fuck does he explain this, especially to Lee’s family and friends?
“A filming emergency,” Lee supplies, picking up Tony’s – frankly – weak explanation. “We’ll, uh, explain it all later and obviously we’re going to finish the wedding.” He gives a firm nod.
“Definitely,” Tony agrees.
“But, we just need a few minutes to work with our, uh…” He shoots a helpless glance to Tony, who can only shrug, equally at a loss.
“Stunt-doubles!” Peter shouts.
And Tony could kiss him.
“Right!” Lee says, grasping at the flimsy story like a starving man clutching the last donut on earth. “It’s just a mix-up. You all, uh, talk among yourselves.”
The muttering of their guests continues.
Tony shifts his attention back to Raymond and James. “Okay, look. I realize that these guys,” he gestures a thumb towards Lee and then Mason, “look exactly like you—“
“Except that I don’t have fangs,” Mason points out, because Raymond’s are showing.
Tony slaps a palm over his face. “Right, Mason. I was getting to that.”
“Mason?” Raymond echoes.
“Yes,” Lee continues. “His name is Mason, and I’m Lee.” He puts his hand over Tony’s shoulder. “And this is Tony. And we’re actors.”
“Well, I’m not,” Tony feels like he needs to add, just for accuracy’s sake. “But, Lee and Mason are and they both play you guys in a television show. See, here in our world, you guys aren’t real. Raymond Dark and James Taylor Grant,” both men startle at hearing their names, “are just characters in a TV show called Darkest Night.”
“What do you mean,” James asks, his expression warring between disbelief and confusion, “here in your world.”
“Have we crossed into some kind of alternate dimension?” Raymond asks, and is starting to look a little bit relieved that there might an explanation to all of this (no matter how implausible).
Tony shrugs. “Uh, I think so? Maybe. Probably. I’m not entirely sure how you guys got here. Um, there may be magic involved.”
“Magic isn’t real,” James scoffs.
Oddly, it’s Raymond who chastises him, “You always say that, James, but you know that some of our cases could be explained in no other way.”
Funnily enough, it’s a topic they’ve carefully and deliberately skirted over the years in the actual show. It’s been hinted at, and suggested, and occasionally lamp-shaded (especially in the years since Tony’s wizardry became a regular ‘thing’ at the studio) and Raymond is the believer while James is a skeptic, but they’ve never officially made it canon. Mostly because CB considers magic to be too much of a deux ex machina and the crutch of lazy writers. (Tony gets a good chuckle out of that).
“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “It’s definitely a possibility right now.”
“So what’s going on here?” Raymond asks, slicing a hand out towards them in a curt gesture.
“Um, exactly what it looks like,” Lee tells him. “It’s a wedding. Tony and I are getting married.” He sounds so proud when he says it that Tony feels a blush spring to his cheeks.
“But, he’s a man!” James says, pointing out the rather obvious. “I mean, I’m not gay.”
“Well, the accurate term here is bi, but,” Lee cocks his head and lifts a brow. “First of all, I’m not you. Second of all; not even a little bit? I mean, I know how I play the character.” (Someone else in the audience – on Tony’s side – grumbles something mostly unintelligible, though Tony thinks he catches the word ‘baiting’.)
James draws himself to his full height, spine stiffening indignantly. “No.” He stares resolutely forward, not letting his gaze move to Raymond at all (who’s eyeing him rather intently).
“And a million and one fangirls just cried out and were silenced,” Tony mutters.
To Tony’s surprise, another voice adds itself to the growing din. “But, the subtext!” It’s Ashley Bane, CB’s eldest daughter, who’s sitting next to CB and watching the exchange as rapt as everyone else. Almost twenty now and as much of a looker as her younger sister, Ashley never did entirely grow out of her crush on Mason. Tony knows (because Brianna’s a gossip) that she’s channeled it into championing the fandom’s juggernaut slash pairing of Raymond/James. (And, her fic is pretty good. CB’s thinking of letting her pen an episode).
Ashley stands up from her pew and marches forward. She’s wearing four-inch stilettos and a sparkly purple sheath cocktail dress, but she’s got plenty of CB’s force of nature in her stride. Even Raymond draws back, impressed.
“Okay, no way in hell.” She points at James. “You are so, totally in love with Raymond. It’s so obvious!”
James’ face goes scarlet and he sputters an indignant, “Young lady, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Raymond looks at James with something of a small frown, “Really, James? Doesn’t she?”
This time Mason protests indignantly, “Now wait just a minute. The character I play is as straight as I am.”
And, things seem like they’re about to devolve even further into a ‘he-said/she-said’ of who is and isn’t in love with who, and who is or isn’t completely straight, but then someone from Lee’s side stands up. “All right, I’ve had just about enough of this.” It’s Lee’s Great Aunt.
“Petunia?” Tony whispers in an aside to Lee.
“Esther,” Lee corrects.
Right. She’s a thin, horse-faced woman with prominent teeth, and Tony’s always thought she looked just like he’d imagined Petunia Dursley from Harry Potter would look (movie casting notwithstanding).
“This is just getting ridiculous,” Esther goes on, sounding about three seconds from hysterics. “Bad enough we have to sit silently through this mockery and affront to all that is good and holy. My nephew marrying this… mongrel,” she flings a bony-knuckled hand out in Lee and Tony’s general direction. “But then you people,”-this she directs at Tony’s side of the church-“have to go and bring your disgusting, perverse… television shenanigans into the middle of it. Making a mockery of God and faith in His own house! It’s despicable.”
And whoa! That’s totally uncalled for. Tony hears a litany of barely-spoken cursing from Lee.
“She’s always been a bigot,” he adds apologetically.
“Hey,” Tony offers with a shrug, “I’ve been called worse. And I think it’s more the awful television people she’s upset with, not just us gays.” He looks over at Lee, and reaches out to take his hand. “I know I said this wedding was gonna be a magic-free zone, but…” he trails off.
Lee lets out a breathy sigh and gives Tony’s hand a tight squeeze. “I didn’t want to ask,” he admits with palpable relief. “Go for it, babe.”
“Babe?”
Lee winks. “Yeah. Can’t call you hubby just yet, can I?”
“Right,” Tony nods, feeling that frission of love/lust/adoration/crush that he will always feel for Lee grow warm in his belly. “Okay.” He pulls his hand from Lee’s grip – since it’s the one with the rune scar – and holds it out. He takes a deep breath and then yells out, “Vatican Cameos!”
A little less than half of the people in the pews essentially duck and cover, averting their eyes and covering their ears. The rest look on, extremely confused.
Tony’s already in action though; he’s sketching the word ‘SLEEP’ into the air in two-foot high glowing blue letters and once he draws the last curve on the ‘P’ he pushes the word – with magical force – above the crowd. It spreads out, the letters swelling and expanding like puffy clouds being inflated. They grow to fill the entire span of the church ceiling, and then like balloons filled to the breaking point they burst with a soft ‘thwup’ into sparkly clouds.
As the popped letters begin to dissipate above the crowd, fluttering down in glittery blue snowflakes, Tony yells out the word, “SLEEP!” There’s a substantial amount of power behind it.
Every person without their ears covered instantly slumps over as soon as the magical snowflakes alight on them.
Lee jumps away from Tony’s side in time to catch his brother and eases him to the ground. His sister, also standing up on Lee’s side, isn’t so lucky and she topples heavily into Mason. Henry, Tony notices, has managed to stop the Pastor from crashing into the altar. Everyone else at the front of the church is still standing.
Oddly, two people who Tony expected to be asleep are still awake; Raymond Dark and James Taylor Grant.
“How…” Tony starts to ask.
“We saw the others,” Raymond explains, nodding at the Darkest Night crew (who are looking around cautiously and beginning to uncover their ears – though a few spouses and plus-ones are out for the count). He scoffs slightly. “James and I have code phrases of our own.”
Which makes sense, considering that it was that episode of the show that gave Tony the idea in the first place (though the trigger phrase he’s coached everyone on is a blatant rip off from BBC’s Sherlock. Tony refuses to apologize for that).
“How did you manage that?” Raymond asks. James, Tony notices, looks even more wild-eyed than before.
“Like I said before: magic.”
“Magic is real,” James states flatly.
Raymond puts a hand on his shoulder. “James, you’ve accepted that vampires are real. Why can you not accept this?” That gives him pause and he looks up at Tony. “What about in this world? Or reality.” His lip curls like he just can’t help it. “If I’m just a television character here, what about vampires? Are they real here?”
Tony absolutely does not look at either Henry or Vicki (not everyone that’s still awake is in the know about them), but he nods. “Uh yeah, pretty sure. We’ve got werewolves and demons and I’m uh, pretty much a wizard.”
Raymond just raises a brow artfully. It looks much smoother than when Mason does it (he overplays it most of the time). “Which, you probably gathered from the whole sleep spell thing. Right.” Tony says unhelpfully.
“So what are we doing here?” James asks, a bit desperately. “I mean, why did we get brought to this other dimension or universe or whatever the hell this is?” He’s looking fairly close to panic. Tony feels an almost instinctive urge to go and comfort him (it’s just so weird, since he looks just like Lee).
Tony can’t answer his question though, because he has no fucking clue! He looks around rather helplessly at everyone still conscious, hoping someone might have an inkling as to what’s going on.
Silence is the only response for many long moments.
“Uh,” Peter finally stands up from the pews. “Well, what’s your motivation?” All eyes turns towards him, but Peter’s used to fielding the attention of his crew and he doesn’t react except to flip a hand through the air in front of him. “I mean, when you first ran in here, it seemed like you knew you were here to interrupt a wedding, right?” He’s also used to coaching recalcitrant actors into getting ready for their scenes.
Raymond and James exchange a glance and then Raymond gives a slow, considering nod. “You’re correct. I have no memory of arriving here, or what I was doing before we showed up outside this church, but I knew I had to get inside and stop this wedding.”
That’s interesting.
But who would want to stop his wedding, and why?
Another thing Tony hasn’t considered yet – though he thinks he deserves a bit of leniency considering he was in the middle of getting married and everything - is that universe and/or reality bending magic is way beyond the norm. He thinks about what Arra had to do to cross from her universe to this one. The calculations were years in the making and the magical expenditure alone was enormous.
This seems so beyond anything he knows. Or any normal terrestrial wizard should know.
Still he has to ask. He looks down the short row of his attendants to where Brianna looks utterly bored. She’s got her phone out and is texting or snapchatting or something (and where she even kept her phone in that dress is a mystery all its own). “Bri? Uh, you don’t know anything about this, do you?”
She looks up at Tony and dramatically rolls her eyes. “Duh, Tony. Of course not. I’d have said right away if I had anything to do with it.” Which, isn’t precisely true, Tony’s sure; but he’s not going to challenge her on that in front of CB. “I mean, you were pretty adamant that the wedding was supposed to be a magic-free zone.”
Tony spreads his hands. “Hey, just checking, Bri.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“She’s a wizard too?” James asks. “Are there many of you?”
Tony shakes his head. “No, um, just the two of us, as far as I know.”
“It seems to me,” Raymond begins, starting to pace the empty floor in between the pews and the elevated altar steps, “that the question we need to answer here is who would want to interrupt your wedding? Who might want to hurt either of you? That will likely lead us,”-here he gestures to himself and James-“into discovering the manner of our arrival. And, hopefully, a way to set things to right.”
Which is really smart.
Then again, Raymond Dark is a detective… Tony’d pretty much forgotten that fact (he’s got to stop thinking of him as Mason). And in canon, he’s damn good at it.
Not to mention the fact that they’ve got two cops in the building as well. Jack had crossed wedding party lines to stand behind Amy, letting her lean against him, rubbing her arms. It looks like less a soothing gesture and more a ‘holding her back’ kind of thing. Amy’s always been pretty fierce about getting in on the action. Still, they both look ready to fight-off whatever evil force is behind all of this.
Mike is still sitting with Vicki in the front pew, but Tony knows it would just take a word to get him involved.
“Right,” Tony agrees. “Okay, so… people who might want to stop the wedding?” He looks around the room, sees only friendly faces (at least among those who are still awake). Then he turns to Lee. “Uh, any ideas?”
Lee makes the same sweep of the room. “Well, apparently my Great Aunt Esther, but considering she’d probably find magic even more reprehensible than being on television or being gay, I doubt she’s our culprit.” He smiles, but there’s something hesitant in his expression.
“What is it?” Tony asks.
Lee’s nose wrinkles before he answers – a ‘tell’ that means he’s not happy with what he’s about to say (Tony learned it after watching Lee prepare to recite really shitty dialogue). “You don’t think this might be related to you being a wizard, do you?” He hurries on before Tony can respond. “I mean, you have taken care of quite a few supernatural sort of problems over the years. What if this is someone getting back at you?”
It’s a definitely possibility, though he understands why Lee was reticent to share; Tony always feels so guilty whenever the magical shenanigans mess with their day-to-day lives.
Tony can only shrug. “I dunno. Maybe?” He looks around again. “But here? With everyone? I mean, wouldn’t you expect someone to want to witness the effect of their meddling? Seems a bit anticlimactic to try to stop a wedding if you’re not there to see it happen.”
Lee shrugs. “Yeah, that’s where I’m confused too.”
“Perhaps we should start interviewing people?” Raymond suggests. “Maybe some of your guests are more involved than you realize.”
Tony wants to defend them immediately. He starts to protest.
“Or,” James offers, holding up a placating hand. “Perhaps they’re doing so unknowingly. I mean if we’re dealing with…” He swallows and then hurries to spit out the word, “Magic. Who knows whether or not people are even responsible for their own actions?”
That’s something that Tony hasn’t considered. He thinks about it.
“Why don’t we let the experts investigate? Maybe they’ll get better results?” Tony suggests. He looks around the room. “Would anyone object to that?”
Tony sees lots of shaking heads and several muttered replies. No one objects.
“Raymond? Would you mind taking the lead?”
“Not at all. James and I have as much a personal investment in this.” He scowls, showing fangs. Tony fights not to flinch when he hears a low growl from Henry behind him.
“Right!” Tony agrees heartily, to cover it up. “And, I think a few of the other guests can help.” He turns and waves a hand at Vicki and Mike, inviting them over and then does the same to Jack and then Henry.
“Uh, Raymond, James, this is Vicki, she’s a Private Detective from Toronto,” he indicates each person as he introduces them. “Her partner, Detective Sergeant Celluci from the Toronto Police. This is Sergeant Jack Elson, RCMP. And this is Henry Fitzroy, he’s uh… a writer. He’s got good investigative skills.” (He figures Raymond will understand soon enough why Henry’s been included). He waves the pointing hand back to Raymond and James. “And uh, you guys probably know who they are.”
There are several handshakes and a few odd looks (especially between Vicki and Henry and Raymond), but no one’s flashing fangs or getting their vamp on, so Tony considers it a success.
“Okay, if we’re taking a break to play detective,”-Amy says rather loudly-“then I need to sit down. These shoes are killing my feet. Can we relax for a bit?”
“By all means,” Lee waves his hands, inviting the room to follow suit. “Why doesn’t everybody take it easy.” He flicks his fingers out vaguely. “Relax. Get comfortable. This might take a bit.”
In a matter of a few minutes people have pulled chairs in from the rooms off the narthex, or have moved to the pews, and everyone is mingling and taking amongst themselves.
Tony and Lee settle on the steps up to the altar, side-by-side, watching silently while everyone settles in and Raymond and James begin interviewing people in small groups of one and two. They’ve split forces, Jack partnering up with Henry (since he’s in on Henry’s secret), while Vicki and Mike have congregated are conducting their own ‘interrogations’.
Tony hums out a breath. There’s a thought brewing in his mind.
Lee bumps their shoulders. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” Tony considers his supposition. It’s weak, needs steeping, but figures it can’t hurt to share it with Lee, at least. “It’s just that the strange thing is, it seems like this would have to be someone who knows about magic. I don’t think anyone could manage something like this accidentally. But, pretty much everyone who knows about me is here, and no one who works on the show would want to mess with us, would they?”
Lee shakes his head, but there’s the tiniest, miniscule frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He draws in a breath and seems to hold it a very long time before letting it out slowly through pursed lips.
Tony’s stomach starts to knot itself up. “Lee?”
“So, I didn’t want to say anything,” he begins, looking at Tony with imploring eyes. “And I didn’t put it together with what’s going on here until just now. And, I mean, not with all the stress of wrapping the season and the wedding and everything. But, I did have a weird thing happen at work. Well, a couple of weird things.”
“What weird things?” The knot is tightening.
“A few weeks back I got a note in my dressing room. Just, kind of a sweet thing. Like something a fan might write. I didn’t think much of it, except it was right in my room and there was no envelope so it hadn’t come in with the regular fan mail. And, so I wondered if it might be someone on the crew or a guest or something, since they had to have access to my dressing room to leave it there.”
“Is that all?” The knot is twisting itself into something complex, like a half-hitch or a sheepshank.
Lee gulps and shakes his head. “Not quite. It uh, happened more than once. Just little notes, talking about how much they liked my work and how attractive I was and stuff like that. Seemed harmless. But then…” he pauses.
The knot has expanded to Gordian proportions. “Then?” Tony prompts.
“Well, the last one was a bit, uh… threatening. Not to me, exactly. But it wasn’t exactly positive towards this wedding.”
“Lee,” Tony whines, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Lee ducks his chin. “I’m sorry, Tony. I just didn’t want anything to mess this up and, I especially didn’t want you to ever thing there was anyone who could stop me wanting to be with you.”
“So, it’s someone from the show, it’s gotta be,” Tony insists. “If they had regular access to your dressing room.”
Lee nods reluctantly. “I didn’t want to think so, but…” he trails off helplessly.
“But who?” Tony looks up at the Darkest Night family… scans each face and feels his frown grow. Every face has memories associated to it that are as much to do with the show, as they are to do with Tony’s magic and their shared experiences. The Shadow Lord, Caulfield House, the Demonic Convergence, and any number of crazy happenings since those early days. He sees all of it reflected back to him in each familiar face…
Wait… Every face but one.
Tony starts to stand. He feels Lee beside him doing the same.
“Lukas,” Tony hisses out.
“What?”
Eyes locking on a figure in the pews, several rows back, Tony repeats, “Lukas. The new PA.”
The man in question, Lukas, is watching while Mouse and Kate are being interviewed by Raymond and James. His expression is indolent... almost amused. And Tony knows he’s right.
“Tony are you sur—“
“Yes,” Tony spits out before Lee can even finish the question. “He’s new to the production, we don’t know anything about him, and he’s always fawning over you; which I first assumed it was just the normal fawning that all new PAs do, but now I see it for the sinister pining that it was.”
“Sinister pining?” Lee’s voice is strange enough that Tony shifts his gaze a moment to glance at him.
“What?”
Lee shakes his head. “Uh, nothing, Tony. Just uh, you’re sounding a bit like one of Warren’s scripts when he’s gotten into CBs stash of good coffee.”
Okay, he’s maybe being a bit overwrought. Still, Tony thinks he’s pretty damn justified. “Lee, it’s Lukas; I’m sure of it. I mean, he hasn’t been around long enough to be clued into the Vatican Cameos thing, and yet he’s still awake.” He lifts a hand to point at the young man, just as Lukas turns his head forward.
He spots Tony staring. His eyes grow wide, then narrow a second later and he shoots to his feet.
“Grab him!” Tony starts to yell. “Grab him before he gets—“
The doors to the church are flung open with a resounding clatter.
“Stop Lukas Flemming!”
A few things happen all at once.
Henry crosses the nave faster than is humanly possible to stop Lukas – who started for the aisle as soon as Tony yelled – from escaping.
Vicki, following Henry’s lead, closes in from the other direction.
Raymond goes into full vamp-mode, but doesn’t seem to know who to attack.
And Lee and Tony both shout in unison, “Leah?”
Because it’s Leah - stuntwoman, immortal demongate handmaiden and a general pain in Tony’s ass - who’s hurrying into the church, wielding a god damn battle axe!
“Hey guys!” Leah chirrups, weirdly perky considering the circumstance.
“Hey!” Lukas shouts from where he’s starting to struggle in the grip of two vampires. “Lemme go!”
Raymond finally seems to have identified a target (and probably recognized Henry and Vicki for what they are considering the way he’s being wary of them both); he dashes over to put his hand around Lukas’ throat.
“What the hell is going on here?” CB booms out.
No one can shout like CB. No one. It shakes the very rafters.
Leah saunters down the aisle, axe swinging with every stride. “Well, I was coming to warn you that young Lukas over there is a minor demi-god who was planning to sabotage Tony and Lee’s wedding, but I see that you’re way ahead of me.”
“He’s a what?” Tony sputters.
“A minor demi-god,” Leah says, shaking her head like Tony is being thick or something. “Or had you not worked that out yet.”
Tony shakes his head slowly. “No. No we hadn’t worked that out yet.”
“Oh,” Leah pauses for just a second. “Well, there you go. That’s what he is. And he’s totally in love with Lee and he thinks you’re not good enough for him, Tony. Oh,” she gestures to Raymond and James, clearly having spotted the incongruity of their presence. “He’s also somewhat talented in the translocation and transdimensional travel department. Hence your two uninvited guests.”
Lukas is apparently willing to risk the wrath of vampires because he starts to struggle and protest. “Hey, I was just doing Lee a favor. He’s gonna end up saddled with that parlor magician for the rest of his life. It’s ridiculous. He deserves better. He deserves a man with real power. A man who—urkk…”
Raymond must tighten his grip because Lukas’ diatribe is cut off with a rather breathless squawk.
“So, uh, is that to take care of him,” Tony gestures to the axe.
Leah looks down at it like she forgot she was carrying it. “Oh, this? Naw. This was just to scare anyone who might’ve gotten in my way.”
“Speaking of,” Lee says, “how are you even here. You declined our invitation because you had that shoot in Upsala.”
Leah shakes her head. “Trust me; you do not want to know.”
Tony trusts her, so he doesn’t ask. “So what do we do with Lukas?” Tony does ask, because he’s a bit worried what might happen with him being surrounded by three vampires. How long can they hold it together when Raymond is all fangs, and Vicki and Henry are probably three seconds from playing a territorial tug-of-war with their captive?
“Send him back,” Leah explains. “His power is limited in this plane, and he pretty much blew his wad bringing your uninvited guests through. So you’re gonna have to do it manually.”
Luckily Tony has a pretty good idea how that’s done.
“Then how do we get Raymond and James back? The same way?”
Leah shrugs. “Not sure. They may cross back over once Lukas is sent home. Or they may be stuck here unless he sends them back.”
“Why can’t Tony just send them back too?” Lee asks.
Leah points to her stomach. “I know which rune activated when the little demi-god here crossed over a few weeks ago. That’ll be the one to send him home. But, while I felt the pull of whatever crossed them,”-she points to Raymond-“over, it didn’t affect any of my runes. So, non-demonic parallel universe, I’m thinking.”
“So, we’re stuck here?” James asks, deploringly.
“Not if I can help it,” Tony bites back viciously. James may not be Lee, but he’s not going to stand for that sad-puppy expression any longer than he has to. He’s pathologically incapable of not responding to it. “Show me the rune,” he snaps to Leah.
She lifts her shirt and draws a blunt fingernail around a small, intricate looking symbol; one of the dozens in the demongate tattoo that adorns her flat belly.
“Got it,” Tony says and stalks over to where Raymond is still holding Lukas by the throat. “Ease up a bit,” Tony tells him. As Lukas gasps out a raspy breath, Tony lifts his hand, displaying the brand on his palm. “How do we get them back?”
“Screw you,” Lukas spits out, his voice gravelly.
“Wrong answer,” Tony replies. He reaches up and starts to trace the symbol from Leah’s tattoo on Lukas’ forehead with a forefinger. It shows up as fiery red lines.
Lukas starts to squirm, trying to get away from Tony’s writing. “Oww! That hurts, man. Stop it!” Whatever type of demi-god he is apparently lends him strength, but it’s nothing compared to the strength of Vicki and Henry putting hands on his head to still him.
“Tell me,”-Tony punctuates each word with another section of the rune-“how to send them back.”
“Fine, fine!” Lukas sputters. “Just stop!”
Tony pulls his hand away and the letters cool to blue like heated metal being plunged into icy water, but the glowing symbol stays in place. “Okay, how do we send them back?”
Panting, Lukas takes a moment to catch his breath. “You don’t need to do anything,” he finally exhales. “They’re only here until midnight. Then they’ll go home on their own.”
Oh, well that’s rather anticlimactic.
Still, it’s time to finish everything. Lukas needs to be gone.
When Tony lifts his hand again Lukas starts sputtering again. “Hey, I told you… I gave you the answer…”
Tony flashes a grin. “Yeah, but you still tried to ruin my wedding. I think it’s time you went,”-he draws the final line of the rune and pulls power-“home!”
Lukas vanishes with a soft ‘puft’.
Henry and Vicki, suddenly with nothing to hold on to, both nearly go stumbling. Nearly. Vampires are good at quick recovery.
The room erupts in applause.
Tony looks around, a bit wild-eyed. He hadn’t realized how much of an audience he had, but they’re all invested in this day, aren’t they? It’s a bit humbling.
Leah apparently feels no such humility; she takes a bow.
“Okay, people, fun’s over,” Lee calls out, and there’s a kind of relief in his voice that’s palpable. “Let’s get this place back in order. We’ve still got a wedding to get through.”
The mood of the room is much more ebullient as everyone gets to work setting things back to rights. There isn’t much to do – chairs to put away, suit jackets are shrugged back on - but they get to it quickly.
“Uh, speaking of,” Lee says, low-voiced, to Tony. “How’re we going to deal with all of this?” Lee’s hand sweeps out to take in his snoozing family members. “I mean… this isn’t exactly how I want our wedding remembered.”
“Well, there’s the old stand-by, vodka-catnip cocktails for everyone,” Tony suggests. “I think I’ve got some in a flask in my duffel bag.”
“Tony, you’re not giving vodka to my nieces and nephews.”
“No, of course not,” Tony protests (he’s fibbing a tiny bit. He’d been considering slipping them a small amount). “Uh, we can have Henry and Vicki talk to them.” No need to elaborate on that.
Lee looks less reluctant. “Still, there’s only one flask and there are several dozen people that are gonna need their memories adjusted.”
Tony hadn’t wanted to offer this solution, but there really is no other option that he can think of. “So, I may have been working on a spell for mass-memory modification. But, we’d still need to get everyone to drink some of the catnip-vodka. That sort of enhances the spell.”
Lee, having witnessed some of Tony’s other ‘experiments’ with learning new magic, narrows his eyes. “Is it safe?”
“Oh yeah, totally!” Tony hurries to reassure him. Plus, it had definitely seemed to work on the cockroaches that were in the alley outside of the dingy little Korean place he had swing by to drop off a night shoot permit a few weeks back. At least the insects had scurried away from the garbage bag they were infesting… so Tony assumes they all forgot about it.
One of Lee’s dark brows takes wing.
“Really,” Tony insists. “I wouldn’t risk your family on something like this, Lee.”
That seems to mollify him. “Okay, but there’s another problem. You said you’ve got a flask of the catnip-vodka. That’s not much at all. We really don’t have time to brew a vat of your magic juice, Tony. Not if we want any kind of plausible deniability about how this one hour wedding managed to last for nearly three.”
“Ah,” Tony lifts a finger. “But I’ve got a plan there, too. See, there’s another bit of magic I’ve been testing out. It’s essentially a duplication spell that will allow me to transfer the properties of one item to another. So, like, I could turn a rock into uh… a different kind of rock. Or wait, if I had a crystal, I could turn a plain rock into that same kind of crystal.” (He’s been testing it out by turning the vegan burritos that Lee insists upon buying to beef and bean).
“I don’t understand?” Lee looks confused. “How will that help?”
“Well, if I use the potion in the flask as a reference and then find a suitable substance to transfer the same magical properties to, I could create more of the potion without having to brew it.”
Lee looks around. “But Tony, we’re in a church. What are you going to use…” he trails off, face kind of getting that look he gets when he thinks Tony is full of shit. Or about to do something really, really dumb.
“You want to turn holy water into vodka?” Lee doesn’t quite squeak, but his voice goes kind of high.
Tony’s eyes go a bit shifty. “Uh, maybe?”
Lee let’s his face fall into his palm. “Oh, Lord, Tony… I don’t even… What is my life?”
Tony frowns. “Well, as you’re devolving to internet meme-speak, I think I’d better make the decisions for a while. Trust me; the holy water will work great.”
And it does.
He wrangles Brianna into assisting him with the magic (she’s super quick to pick up on new spell work. And the practically literal ‘water into wine’ trick is one that’s gonna make her popular at college parties, that’s for sure). The rest of the wedding party he cajoles into finding cups or vessels (Lee draws the line at anyone raiding the sacristy) and pouring sparkly vodka-catnip potion down the throats of the sleeping guests.
Once they’ve gotten everyone dosed (except any of the kids under eighteen, because Tony isn’t that clueless), Tony shoos everyone back into their places, and tries to make them look like a wedding party again.
It’s a bit of a challenge to get Pastor Dan back on his feet and propped up on the pulpit, but Henry keeps a grip on Kyle, holding him upright, while Mason and Jack wedge Jess between them.
“Okay, I’m gonna wake everyone up. Just act normal.” There are several grumbles and under-the-breath comments at that. “Well, as normal as we normally are,” he amends. He looks around, once again studying the faces of these people who have become such a big part of his life. Even Lee’s sleeping family fit into the empty spaces that he never thought would be filled (well, perhaps with the exception of Great Aunt Esther). He looks over to the man he’s about to marry and grins.
“Gonna be one hell of a wedding video,” Tony quips, pulling power to him.
Peter waves that away. “Don’t worry, Tony. We can edit all of that out in post.”
This is Tony’s life.
And he couldn’t be happier.
EPILOGUE:
Waves lap at Tony’s ankles and his feet compress in damp sand as he jogs along a stretch of perfectly idyllic beach. Several yards ahead of him Lee is splashing through the water, looking over his shoulder and taunting Tony into trying to catch him. Lee’s wearing black board shorts and nothing else but the start of a tan, and they’ve got the whole of this gorgeous private cove all to themselves (courtesy of an actor friend of Mason’s who ran into trouble with a vengeful spirit).
Tony puts on a burst of speed and manages to catch up to Lee. He hooks his arms around Lee’s waist and they go stumbling further into the water and then tumbling to the sand.
Laughing and sputtering, they sprawl on the water’s edge. “Welcome to our honeymoon,” Lee says, trying to wrestle Tony into submission.
“Oh yeah,” Tony agrees, torn between trying to get the upper hand, and wanting to submit. He fights on, just because it feels pretty damn good to be rolling around with his husband, when they’re both soaking wet and wearing nothing but swim trunks, with the tropical sun shining down on them. “A whole week,” he goes on, “with no studios and no scripts and no early calls.”
Lee picks up the diatribe, even as he slips a hand beneath the hem of Tony’s trunks to grab a handful of ass. “No magic, no mayhem. No crazy demons and no weirdly jealous demi-gods.”
Tony retaliates, driving his fingers into Lee’s ribs where he’s the most ticklish, and while Lee contorts and twists to get away from his relentless assault, Tony flips them over and straddles Lee’s hips. “Just you, me and seven days and six nights of endless food, drink and debauchery.”
Lee waggles his brows. “Debauchery?”
“You know it!” Tony rolls his hips into Lee’s just to hear him whine.
It’s so very movie cliché, but he’s got Lee on his back in the sand, and there are waves surging over them and he just has to kiss him. Lee tastes of salt and sun, and he threads his hands through Tony’s hair and the kiss goes from playful and teasing to passionate and intent from one heartbeat to the next.
Lee makes his own quick move and rolls them over and presses his hands on Tony’s shoulders, pinning him to the sand. “Stay just like this, Mr. Foster-Nicholas,” he instructs, eyes flashing with wicked promise. “Don’t move.”
Never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Tony nods eagerly and folds his arms under his head. “Not going anywhere, Mr. Foster-Nicholas!”
Lee grins down at him. His dark hair is damp and mussed from the salt-spray and his eyes are green as the lagoon and he is sex personified, and Tony knows he’s died and gone to heaven. That theory is confirmed a moment later when Lee’s lips trail a hot line from his mouth, down his throat and over his chest. He doesn’t stop there. Tony feels hands make their way to his hips. They’re rather industrious hands and they wrangle Tony’s swim trunks deftly, working them far enough down Tony’s thighs so he can wriggle them to his knees and then kick them off.
Lee’s devastating mouth works its way down further, licking over his nipples, tongue dipping into his belly button, sucking a mark into the point of Tony’s hip. And then that hot, wet mouth closes over him and Tony groans, and throws his head back into the sand and he writhes as Lee applies the perfect suction and adroit fingers get in on the action and Tony’s going to explode in about two seconds…
Or not.
Lee stops. Just… stops. Not a slow, easing off or a teasing pause. One minute his mouth and a hand are taking Tony to heaven and then next they’re both gone and the breeze is cooling saliva-damp skin.
There’s teasing and then there’s this…
“Uh, Lee?” Tony opens his eyes and lifts his head from his arms to gaze down at Lee.
Though he’s still hovering above Tony, arms and legs framing Tony on all sides, Lee isn’t looking at him. He’s craning his neck to look far off to one side almost over his shoulder. Tony feels a bit silly; his junk is just waving in the breeze.
“Uh, are we not alone?” This is supposed to be a private beach, but… maybe someone learned it was going to be occupied by a celebrity? He moves his hands, ready to grab Lee and pull him down to protect his modesty with Lee’s body if need be.
Lee finally turns his head back to look down at Tony. His expression seems caught somewhere between perturbed and disturbed. He rocks forward then and drops his forehead on Tony’s chest.
Tony feels the first, slight, frission of apprehension.
“Tony,” Lee finally says, voice full of gravel and frustration, and Tony can feel the words being formed against his skin. “What do you know about Mermaids?”
“What?” Tony cranes his own neck up, and looks out into the blue of the ocean. Sure enough, bobbing in the water just a few yards out is a naked woman with long silvery tresses. He thinks, for the barest of seconds, that maybe she’s just some strange woman voyeur, until he sees the scaled fish tail and flowing fins flip out of the water and splash back in.
Right. Mermaids.
Tony flops back into the sand. “So much for no monsters or mysteries,” he grumbles. “Welcome to our honeymoon…”