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“Fuck, Roz, this shit is strong,” Bood sputters. “And it’s fucking like nine in the morning. Can I at least add orange juice? Make it a screwdriver.”
“It is eleven,” Ilya deadpans, “and if you spit one more drop of vodka out or put any juice in it, I will murder you and then Harris will murder me.”
“Have you seen Harris?” Troy asks nervously. He’s standing in front of a mirror using his fingers to move his hair this way and that way.
“Yes, very beautiful groom,” Ilya assures, shoving a glass into one of Troy’s hands.
“So he’s here?”
“Yes, Troy,” Ilya says again, reassuringly. He wants to smack Troy’s hands away from his hair and tell him to calm the fuck down, but he knows Troy isn’t quite capable of that right now.
“Barrett, you got to chill,” Bood cajoles, slapping Troy on the back, and it has exactly the effect Ilya thought it would. Troy hunches in on himself and his oceanic eyes get that caustic glean.
“Fuck off, I don’t have to do anything,” Troy hisses.
“He meant that everything is going to go perfect. Right, Bood?” Ilya prompts.
“Right,” Bood agrees, taking a step behind Ilya and nodding.
There’s a rap of knuckles on the suite door and Bood scurries to answer it, just to get out of range of a volatile Troy Barrett. Julia and Charlie come into the room. When Ilya had met Curtis Barrett, he’d been confused where Troy’s looks had come from, maybe it’s the evilness that made Troy’s father uglier, but his mother more than makes up for his father’s looks. Ilya should’ve known; he looks like his mother too. Julia is a calming effigy for Troy. Ilya sees Troy take a deep breath, probably his first that morning, and actually smile at his mother.
“You look so handsome, darling,” she tells him sincerely as she cups his cheek. Troy closes his eyes and nuzzles into his mom’s hand. Ilya thinks he would’ve done the same with his mother if she had been there on the day he got married. Ilya can see the way Troy’s shoulders relax. The way that he lets some of it go because this is someone who has always loved and believed in him.
“Thanks, mom,” Troy replies softly, bowing his head toward her, and she cups both of his cheeks and kisses his forehead.
“I’m so happy for you. Harris is amazing,” She declares, and Troy nods, but she adds, “and so are you.”
“Because of him,” Troy whispers.
“No, I don’t think so,” Julia smiles at him, making sure he looks directly at her, “You make each other the best versions of yourselves, but you were well on your way before too.”
Troy shakes his head and blinks roughly, his long lashes looking damp as he looks back at his mother, and Ilya wonders if he and Bood should leave. Bood’s eyes look wet, and Ilya knows the same reaction is probably welling in his own eyes. Ilya clears his throat, and Julia and Troy look at him. Ilya raises his glass and asks, “Drink?”
Julia laughs delightedly, “Sure, Charlie?”
Charlie nods, patting Troy quickly and efficiently on the back. Troy relaxes and his lips turn up, and he returns the slaps. Ilya pours them both a drink and hands the lowball glasses to Charlie and Julia.
“To the wonderful couple,” Julia proposes, raising her glass. They clink their glasses together and take deep drinks of the vodka.
“I think maybe some cranberry or orange juice,” Julia requests, and Bood nods while Ilya grimaces. He will not argue with the woman, so he nods curtly. She laughs and nudges him almost affectionately, “I’m kidding, darling. I know what good vodka tastes like.”
Bood looks chagrined.
“Ah, now I see where he gets it,” Ilya teases.
Troy and Julia grin at each other. Her face smushes up and Troy’s face almost matches her in pure familiarity. Charlie nods and adds, “Don’t get them started.”
Julia laughs big and loud and pulls Troy closer to her and shrugs, “Or do if you want to have fun.” Charlie shakes his head and takes another sip of his vodka; Ilya follows suit. His grin makes his cheeks hurt, but he can’t quite quell the overwhelming fondness. Bood, not to be out done, starts regalling the group with stories from road trips. Ilya participates in the chirping of Troy because he’s finally giving it back as good as he gets, and it makes the time pass faster.
Julia glances down at the delicate vintage watch on her wrist and smiles, “It’s time.”
Suddenly, Troy is stiff and looks pleadingly around the room. Bood drops his hands on Troy’s shoulders like he’s a boxer and shakes him a little, rubbing deep circles into his trapeziuses. Bood slaps his back and walks ahead of them. Ilya grips the back of Troy’s neck and gives a quick squeeze, “It’s good. It’s good.”
“Yeah, It’s good. It’s great,” Troy nods. Julia loops their arms together and pats Troy comfortingly. She smiles at Ilya, and he nods in response. They’ll keep him together.
Harris is nowhere to be seen when they stand by the doors, which was the plan, but Ilya can feel the nervous energy pouring off of Troy. Anna and Margot go to Ilya and Bood respectively, but before Anna makes it to Ilya’s side she squeezes Troy’s wrist and beams, “He’s so excited.”
Ilya wishes he could hug her right now as he hears the air whoosh out of Troy’s lungs as he replies, “Me too.”
Anna grins at Ilya when he offers his arm to her. She loops her arm through his and squeezes and then pats him gently as she compliments, “You look gorgeous.”
He feels his cheeks flush that she beat him to the compliment and murmurs, “You look amazing.”
“I’m married,” she fakes aghastness.
“Me too,” he waggles his eyebrows at her, and she lets out a laugh that sounds so much like Harris’s. They grin as they process down the aisle. He sees Shane with Yuna and David. They’re all smiling at the aisle, and he feels the love of the day swell in his chest. When Ilya and Anna get to the altar, they part ways and Ilya stands in front of Bood on the groom’s side. “Everything” by Lighthouse starts playing, and Troy, escorted by his mother, walks down the aisle.
His mom is humming along to the song, and it pulls at the sides of Troy’s mouth as his heart beats loudly in his chest. He focuses on her humming over the rush of blood in his ears and the voice in his head telling him that Harris isn’t going to walk down the aisle. When they get to the altar, she turns him toward her and hugs him tightly.
“I love you so, so much, my wonderful son,” she states, cupping his face again and kissing him on the forehead. Her eyes are bright with tears, but her grin is so wide.
“I love you too, mom.”
“You deserve this more than you believe,” she proclaims and hugs him again before he walks to stand in front of Ilya. Ilya winks at him, and he tries to respond equally as brazenly even when he feels like he’s about to cry or throw up.
The song shifts to “Your Song” by Elton John, and Troy takes a deep breath because he really doesn’t want to break down in this moment. Marlene, Harris, and Sam are all smiling broadly at each other as they walk down the aisle, Harris’s parents flanking him. Harris looks amazing, and Troy can’t wait for him to get to the altar. Marlene and Sam both hug Harris, but then they surprise Troy by gesturing him down. He goes because what else is he supposed to do, and as he hugs Harris’s parents, his mom hugs Harris. Then Harris reaches out a hand to him and he takes it.
They turn to each other at the altar, and Harris grabs his other hand. Harris’s eucalypt suit brings out the color of his eyes that sparkle with unshed happy tears. Troy doesn’t want Harris to cry, and suddenly he’s leaning forward to kiss Harris, and Harris grin-giggle-whispers, “Not yet, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” Troy replies, leaning back but squeezing Harris’s warm hands. Harris squeezes back.
“I better hurry up before one of the grooms takes matters into his own hands,” Nancy, the same justice of the peace from Ilya and Shane’s wedding, jokes. Troy feels himself flush, but Harris’s grin just gets bigger and he squeezes Troy’s hands harder.
“The grooms have decided to share personal vows alone, so we will be sticking with the generic ones today,” she begins and looks at Ilya and asks, “The rings?”
Troy is worried Ilya will be theatrical and pretend he doesn’t have the ring box, but he doesn’t. He hands her the recognizably blue Tiffany’s box. She thanks Ilya and turns back to them. She hands Troy the box, and he takes out Harris's ring. It’s platinum with gold ts that encircle the finger; Troy had been a little embarrassed by it also being his initial, but Harris had been thrilled by that prospect. He hands the box back to Nancy and mechanically repeats after her until he can slide the ring onto Harris’s finger. Nobody laughs, so Troy knows he hasn’t messed up. Harris squeezes his hands again before he also takes the box and takes out Troy’s ring. It’s the same ring as Harris’s, just the inverse: his is gold with platinum ts that encircle the finger. Harris repeats after Nancy, and, of course, he sounds melodious and less like a robot than Troy did. Harris slides the ring onto Troy’s ring finger, and he is crying now even though his smile spans his entire face. Troy hates that Harris is crying until he feels tears escape his own eyes and figures, at least, the audience sees how much Troy loves Harris back.
Troy locks in for the words he’s been waiting for, and Nancy finishes, “You may celebrate your marriage with a kiss.”
Troy pulls Harris close by his hands and grabs his waist. Harris smiles, cradles Troy’s face with both his hands, and Troy leans forward to kiss him. They melt into each other, and the crowd cheers. Harris pulls away, and Troy wants to chase the kiss, but Harris grabs Troy’s hand off his waist, threads their fingers together, and throws them into the air. The crowd cheers louder as they process down the aisle as "This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)" by Natalie Cole plays.
They go back to the suite that Harris got ready in with his sisters. The rest of the wedding party heads to the suite that Troy, Ilya, and Bood got ready in before photos. Troy has no doubt that they’ll finish off Ilya’s vodka while they wait to take photos. The rest of the guests, who aren’t doing photos, head to cocktail hour. Their wedding planner has brought two glasses of champagne to their suite though, and Harris hands Troy one of the flutes.
“To us,” Harris cheers.
“To us,” Troy lifts his glass. They clink their glasses together, and it takes everything in Troy to not chug the glass. Troy reaches out his unoccupied hand and curls it around Harris’s waist. As Harris drinks, Troy kisses Harris's neck.
“Don’t you start,” Harris laughs.
“What else was the reason for this time alone?” Troy groans.
“To freshen up, so we don’t look so teary-eyed in our photos.”
“Alright, alright, you’ve got the fake tears.”
“Yeah.”
They both take two of the single-use droppers and lean back and drip them into their eyes. Troy can feel his eyes overfill, and the fake tears and his own roll down his cheeks more. He looks at Harris and their eyes are less red, but they have wet lashes and tear streaks on their faces. They laugh and Harris falls into him.
“I don’t know if that worked as well as I thought,” Harris giggles into Troy’s neck.
“We’ve still got a few minutes,” Troy reassures, pulling him closer. Harris drags him down and kisses Troy deeply. Troy pulls away, “I thought we weren’t starting that.”
He trails off because Harris drags him back down to deepen the kiss. Troy gets lost in the kiss, and it’s the first time he’s felt the nerves fully fall away. They’re married. Harris married him, and whatever happens next, they’ll face it together.
Shane is drinking a glass of Chablis with his parents when fingers trail across his waist. Ilya presses a kiss behind Shane’s ear, and Shane feels the coil of heat and affection that Ilya always elicits out of him. Ilya looks amazing in the cream-colored suit that matches the floral pattern on the bridesmaids’ dresses. He hides his face in Shane’s neck for a minute, and then he rests his cheek on Shane’s shoulder. Shane wraps his free arm around his husband and kisses the gentle curls on his head.
His mom and dad are looking at them knowingly, perceivingly, and Shane feels a blush rise to his cheeks. His husband is soft and needy, and Shane won’t deny him, not when he knows now what Ilya went through for so long. Ilya desires the affection, needs it, and Shane has never wanted to deny him even when he felt that he had to.
“How were photos?” His mom asks.
“Good, Harris was crazy just like Shane, so I was ready.”
“Hey,” Shane whines, smacking Ilya’s hip a little bit.
“It’s okay. I like you and Harris. It was fine,” Ilya smiles into Shane’s neck and presses a gentle kiss right above Shane’s collar before he turns back to Shane’s parents, “How is cocktail hour?”
“Delicious,” his dad extols, lifting his packed plate and his glass of wine.
Ilya hums in response, “What is good?”
“The wine is magnificent, and the pigs in a blanket are fantastic.”
“Pigs in a blanket?”
“Small wieners wrapped in pastry.”
“Wieners?” Ilya snorts.
“Little hot dogs. Get your brain out of the gutter,” his dad laughs.
“I am going to get food and booze,” Ilya informs them and squeezes Shane as he walks away.
Eventually, they make their way to their seats for dinner. The couple has a sweetheart table, so Ilya takes his seat next to Shane. His parents are sitting at another table, which is okay with him because the Cens are boisterous, especially when Ilya gives his best man speech, and his mother wouldn’t be a fan of the chirping that is currently happening as they eat. Ilya’s free hand is tucked between Shane’s thighs. Usually, Ilya would be teasing him, but he just seems to be seeking closeness, so Shane lets him leave it even if Haas keeps glancing surreptitiously at them. Shane is only vaguely following the talk of the table, which is about a lot of the off-season actions of teams around the league. He doesn’t care much anymore after winning the Stanley Cup with his husband. Nobody is going to create a roster to combat their Ottawa Centaurs. The cheers from their table are raucous as Harris and Troy eat wedding cake out of the Stanley Cup.
The cacophonous cheers continue as Harris and Troy dance for the first time as a married couple to “God Only Knows” by The Beatles. Shane nearly shouts a chirp about “Diamonds,” but Ilya has scooched his seat closer and is playing with the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck. Shane places his hand between Ilya’s thighs and tilts closer to him, leaning on his husband’s side. Eventually, the song ends and the newlyweds separate with a kiss. They then go to get their moms. The DJ announces the mother-son dance and invites other mother-son pairs to come out and dance with them. Shane watches as Cassie takes their new son to go, and Anna takes her toddler out onto the dance floor. There are other people filling the floor with their moms too as “O-o-h Child” by The Five Stairsteps starts playing. He feels how Ilya stiffens and fidgets with the cross that before the mother-son dance had been nestled under his shirt. “Things are gonna get easier”: Shane feels fingers in his hair and looks up at his own mom. He shakes his head at her a little, and she rolls her eyes at him and mouths, “I know.”
She tugs on Ilya’s arm, and Ilya shakes his head, “No, dance with Shane.”
“No, you and me, dear,” she leaves no room for argument and tugs Shane’s husband out of his arms.
Ilya looks back at him reluctantly, but Shane can see the weight has lifted a little from his shoulders and the mischievous spark is back, and he won’t begrudge him this. Plus, Shane isn’t a fan of dancing. His mom would probably lead him. Ilya twirls his mom, and they sway together. His mom tells Ilya something, and Ilya lets out a laugh that Shane can hear over the music, and they start dancing sillily with the others on the dance floor: “Things'll get brighter.”
His husband is smiling when he returns to the table, and he drags a protesting Shane to the dance floor. Ilya sneaks so many kisses that Shane thinks they might be mistaken for the newlyweds if Troy and Harris weren’t so shamelessly making out so frequently.
Harris is warm in Troy’s arms as they sway to another song. His husband, HUSBAND, is holding him reverently, and Harris hopes he understands that the feeling is mutual, so very mutual. Harris wraps his arms around Troy under his suit jacket. Troy chuckles and kisses him.
“I love you so much,” Harris promises.
“I love you too,” Troy replies with soft eyes.
“I know you hate dancing, but I love that you’ll dance with me.”
“I’ll do anything with you.”
“I know. You’re the best husband.”
Troy laughs, “You won’t think that when I’m tossing and turning tonight.”
“Why are you going to be tossing and turning?”
“Because this doesn’t feel real.”
“Oh it’s real, baby,” Harris assures, slapping Troy’s ass. Troy laughs and kisses him again.
As the song ends, the DJ announces, “The grooms ask that everybody goes outside for the farewell.”
The guests start to trickle out and Harris can see through the window that their wedding coordinator is handing out sparklers to the guests. He pulls away from Troy and straightens his jacket and then Troy’s. They’ve both lost their ties, but they still look presentable even after hours of partying with their guests and The fucking Stanley fucking Cup.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure about what?” Troy asks, adjusting his hair.
“You know what.” Harris responds, emphasizing each syllable and adds tentatively, “Just… I thought… maybe since the Stanley Cup, you wouldn’t want to do it now.”
“I’m positive. That was the easiest decision. Now, I won’t have to be reminded of him,” Troy affirms. Harris would be worried, but his husband looks so sure, and pride and love blooms in his chest anew for his brave husband.
“Come on, I heard the wedding night is the best,” Troy cajoles, tugging on Harris’s hand.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m exhausted.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”
“The rest of our lives,” Harris echoes and squeezes Troy’s hand as Troy leads him out the door.
“Say good-bye to Mr. and Mr. Drover,” the DJ announces, and the crowd goes wild as they wave their sparklers. Harris wanted to give Troy as much time as possible to change his mind, especially since Troy Barrett was the name forever imprinted on the Stanley Cup, but Troy had insisted he wanted to change his name, to share a name, and Harris loves him for it.
“Mr. Drover,” Troy bows as he holds open the car door for him.
“Thank you, Mr. Drover,” Harris grins as he climbs into the car. Troy climbs in after him to their guests still cheering.
“I love you,” Harris kisses Troy.
“I love you. I’ll love you forever,” Troy promises, and Harris presses closer and kisses him again. Forever has never felt better.