27 August 2001
Category: Romance
Rating: PG (for language)
Pairing: 2+R
What to expect: Hetero-ai, sap.
Notes: This is a sequel to a sequel, though you don't have to have read "Fool On Fire" or "Mystified" for it to make sense. Several people asked for a wedding fic, and I'm afraid this is the closest I could manage. ^_^;; (Can't help it! Sorry!) In some ways, this is a much sillier fic than the ones before it--but in others, I'm being as serious as I get....
This fic is for Dalton, because she puts up with me. (Even when I'm being a crabby rant-monster!) ^_______^
/ denotes thoughts, denotes emphasis
I try to sing this song
I...I try to stand up
But I can't find my feet
I try, I try to speak up
But only in you I'm complete
--U2, "Gloria"
Somewhere in this wad of fluff was a buttonhole; he knew it was there, mocking him. But no matter what he tried, Duo absolutely could not get the jabot attached to his collar. He hurled it away in disgust, and stared in frustration as it fluttered only about a foot before plopping to the carpet.
Relena would know where the buttonhole was, he thought bitterly. And if she had been there, this formal-wear emergency would have been most pleasantly resolved at least an hour ago.
But she wasn't there, and he wasn't allowed to go find her; Hilde had been stern on this point. Something about bad luck, and traditional constructions of bridal femininity that demanded a pretense of virginity--and then she had gone off muttering something about a sixpence for Relena's shoe, which hadn't made any less sense than her other pronouncements.
His own attendants, the groomsmen Hilde had insisted on referring to as 'the brute squad,' had managed their own less-complicated outfits some time before; when the summons came to appear for photographs and usherly duties, they had trooped off with an air reminiscent of cattle headed for market. Only Quatre had seemed his usual ebullient self, practically bouncing as he followed the rest of the herd off down the stairs.
All of which left Duo sitting here alone with The Beast, as he had nicknamed the froth of lace that seemed bent on driving him insane. An ironic situation, since Duo himself had been the one to insist that traditional Sank costume would be a fun idea. 'Fun.' Right. Breeches tight enough to render an heir unlikely, a jacket so heavy with embroidery that he could hardly move his arms, and, of course, The Beast.
At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Relena was probably equally uncomfortable in her own finery--though she was more accustomed to formal wear, so he'd bet she was doing just fine. Wherever she was.
He stooped with a sigh to gather up the ascot again, squaring his shoulders as he headed back to the mirror for another try.
Duo had no idea how weddings were supposed to go, not really, but he suspected his own was about to be rather unusual. For one thing, the media--which had all but discarded Relena in favor of fresher celebrity faces--had suddenly rediscovered an interest in the former princess after almost six years of blessed obscurity. Helicopters, reporters on ladders, even satellites with long-range viewing capabilities had all been pressed into service to catch a glimpse of anything resembling a bride. Dorothy had volunteered to act as a decoy, saying she'd be happy to assist Miss Relena by dressing up in white and posing at the opposite end of the garden--but Duo suspected the enigmatic Catalonia was mostly hoping for a confrontation with the journalists. Something about that smile of hers suggested she was trying to figure out how to hide a rocket launcher under her crinolines.
And then there were the arrangements for the ceremony itself, an eclectic mixture of traditions. It was to be a largely secular service, presided over by a civil rather than a religious official, but with music written long ago to be played in huge European cathedrals--though the pieces would probably sound just as nice echoing through the main ballroom of the Darlian country estate. Milliardo had wanted to give the bride away, and so had Heero--but Relena had put her foot down, insisting that she was not going to be handed off from one man to another like a white satin football. The allusion might have sailed right over their heads, but the fire in her eye was enough to make them back down. She was quite capable of walking a few meters without assistance, Relena had assured them, and that was that.
If only all the details had been so easily resolved; the damn necktie still wasn't working. Resisting the urge to rip his uncooperative cravat in two, Duo gave up again and threw himself into the nearest chair--but carefully, since his trousers did not reward impetuous movement.
At almost the same moment, the door to the little parlor opened. "Good, you're dressed." Une probably didn't mean to snap, but the anxieties of the day had her in full command mode, which meant no time for niceties. "You're needed upstairs, Maxwell. Now."
"Upstairs? But I'm not supposed to see her before the wedding. Hilde said--"
Already halfway out the door, Une swung back. "Duo, if you don't move it, there isn't going to be a wedding."
Galvanized by her dire pronouncement, he hoisted himself out of the chair, stuffing the jabot into his jacket pocket. "What the--?"
"No time, Maxwell." And then, almost as an afterthought, "Please?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he said, following her into the hallway and up the side stairs to the third floor. "What did you guys do to her, anyway? She was fine last night."
Une shot him a deadly look over her shoulder. "We didn't do anything. She fell apart all by herself, thank you."
As they came up the stairs, Noin pushed through a door near the other end of the hallway, muttering to herself. At Duo's approach, her haggard face lit up. "Oh, thank god."
"What's going on?"
Noin only shook her head, pointing at the door. "She's all yours."
He knocked, then pushed the door open just enough to peer around it. "Relena? You decent?"
No answer; but Duo could hear petticoats in motion somewhere in the large salon, so he risked entry.
She was at the other end of the room, stalking back and forth like a spooked thoroughbred. The dress--which had been whisked out of sight every time Duo entered the room for the past few weeks--wasn't all that different from her usual evening gowns. It was longer, with a little train that chased her pacing feet, but cut just as simply as everything else she owned.
Still puzzling over Une's summons, Duo edged forward. "Relena?"
She stopped, turning toward the door just in time to be caught in a beam of sunlight from one of the high windows. And just like that, she stopped being his best friend in a pretty dress, and became something otherworldly. Golden light slipped over her hair and bare shoulders, illuminating the filmy layers of her wedding gown until he could swear he saw wings flutter behind her.
"Oh, man." Fortunately, there happened to be a chair behind him; Duo dropped into it like a felled tree.
Still blinking at him in surprise, Relena promptly began to hiccup. She clapped both hands over her mouth, gazing at him beseechingly over her fingers.
Well, that was certainly a novel reaction to anxiety. "Drink of water? Should I scare you? Try holding your breath," he offered.
Tears began to push their way down her reddened cheeks, and she shook her head in despair.
"Oh, no. Don't cry." From long experience, he knew that weeping right before a Big Occasion meant disaster. Eyelashes would convert themselves into trickles of mascara, powder would get rubbed off--a moment of tears translated into twenty minutes of cosmetic repair, at the very least. He got up, coming over to take her hands. "It's okay, whatever it is."
The answering explanation was broken by hiccups. "There are two hundred guests waiting down there, and twelve musicians, and seventy-five pounds of poached salmon."
Bemused by the torrent of statistics, Duo could only shake his head. "And the problem is--?"
Relena took a deep breath, held it, and then burst out with, "I can't do this!" Yanking her hands out of his, she started pacing again.
"Relena."
She stopped, gulping down more hiccupping sobs.
"What are you scared of? Is it me?" Duo managed to keep his voice reasonably even, though his insides seemed to be shrivelling down into an icy lump of dread. What could have brought this on? Relena had been almost eerily calm throughout the months of hectic wedding preparations--her confidence had certainly carried him through more than a few moments of panic. So why this, and why now?
"No, no! Not you. Me, maybe. I--oh, I don't know what's wrong!" Relena shook her head so fiercely that her earrings jangled, though her rigorously-sprayed coiffure didn't budge.
"C'mere." He sat down on a small couch, patting the cushion next to him. "Talk to me."
She swished across the carpet to settle primly on the sofa, then pitched herself abruptly sideways into his lap. Though her words were muffled by his shirt-front, he was able to pick up some of her repeated lament: "What are we doing? How does anyone do this?"
"Do what?"
She turned her head to the side, becoming a bit more audible. "How does anyone know what they're going to want for the rest of their lives? What if I--what if we--"
Duo patted her lacquered hair, settling her more comfortably against him. "Nobody knows that stuff, babe. Getting married isn't like locking the future in place--it's more like crossing your fingers and saying 'I hope.' And promising to do all you can to make it come true."
Relena drew a shaky breath. "It feels like being locked in. It doesn't even feel like it's about you and me any more--it's like everyone else's expectations are piling up, and I can't breathe, and I--" Her hands clenched into fists against his lapels.
"Hey." He turned sideways, tipping her chin up until she looked at him. "We don't have to do this. We can walk out that door right now and go home, if you want."
She hesitated, not quite sure she was allowed to want to run away. "Don't you want to get married?"
"I want to be with you forever--but you know that already. And I don't need some guy in a stole to give the go-ahead." Relena's eyes flooded with tears again, but this time they seemed to be tears of relief; Duo searched his pockets briefly for a handkerchief before giving up and using his ascot to dab at her cheeks. "Look, we can go through with this or not--it won't make one damn bit of difference to the way I feel about you."
"We could go home," she repeated wistfully.
"Say the word," he assured her. "If this feels like a lockdown, I say we scrap the whole idea and stick with what works."
Though her resistance was clearly crumbling, Relena's sense of civic responsibility was not so easily mollified. "But the--the salmon, and--"
"Screw the damn salmon. We can take it with us," he improvised.
"Everyone will be so angry," she mourned.
Duo snorted. "The single person most invested in this freak show is the wedding planner, and he won't give a damn as long as he gets paid. And trust me, none of those guests is going to complain if this turns into a plain old party--our friends will be ecstatic if they can skip a boring ceremony and get straight to the cake."
She chewed on her lip for a moment before raising nervous eyes to his. "You're not angry?"
"Nope. It kind of hurts my feelings, though. No," Duo cut Relena off before she could begin a hiccupping apology. "Not because I'm invested in this hoopla--I don't need a certificate to prove that you love me. What bugs me is that you were afraid to tell me all this stuff. You're allowed to be scared, Due. And you're always allowed to change your mind. But if you can't talk to me about what you're feeling, then we have a problem."
"I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, sitting up straighter. "If I lose it again, I promise to tell you--before anyone spends five thousand credits on floral centerpieces."
"Good." He leaned down to kiss her, stroking her stiff bangs back from her hot forehead. "Now can we get out of here already?"
"But how--?" She frowned, trying to figure out the logistics of their flight.
Duo hopped up from the couch, catching Relena's hands to pull her to her feet. "Not a problem; the bike's out back. We just have to get to it."
The upper hallway was deserted, still but for the strains of chamber music filtering up from the ballroom. They fled down the back stairs in a flurry of petticoats and brocade tails, only to be brought up short just inside the door communicating between the grand foyer and the service hallway. They could have sneaked past almost any sentry, but the usher standing guard at this portal was not so easily eluded.
"Heero!" Relena stifled a hiccup. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching," Heero replied succinctly. When Duo and Relena exchanged puzzled looks, he elaborated. "Reporters were trying to sneak in through the kitchens."
"Oh." Relena wilted under Heero's level gaze, watching their chances of escape evaporate before her eyes.
Heero looked from one of them to the other, taking in Relena's tearstained face, Duo's defiant stare, and their tightly-clasped hands. Having assessed the situation, he asked dryly, "Is this a breakout?"
Relena nodded, eyes shining with new confidence. "We're running away."
"No wedding?"
They looked at each other again, practically beaming this time, and then shook their heads in concert.
Heero considered this information calmly. "People will wonder where you went."
"Just home," Duo admitted, then asked cautiously, "Would you tell everybody who actually needs to know?"
Heero nodded, then actually smiled. "Aa. Get going before the vultures figure it out."
Relena's train whispered after them as they whisked through the kitchen and out into the back courtyard. A uniformed valet stared in shock as the bride kilted up her skirts enough to climb safely onto the back of a black motorcycle--and he looked ready to collapse altogether when the dangerous machine coughed into life, roaring off down the service driveway toward the distant road.
Still snickering at the valet's dumbfounded expression, Relena tightened her arms around Duo's waist with a sigh of pure relief. She felt him chuckle as she leaned forward to rest her helmet against his back, though all sound was lost in the growl of the bike's engine. It was perfect, this feeling--balanced between his secure warmth and the freedom of the wind whipping at her bare arms. Relena closed her eyes, crossing fingers on both hands. /I hope. Oh, I hope..../
There was a crackle of static over the helmet com, and then Duo said, "Hey, I just thought of something."
Relena felt for the reply button by her chin strap. "Hm?"
"You don't happen to feel all constrained by honeymoons, do you?"
She laughed. "I suppose they're all right."
"Then we can still go to the ayyyyyylands!" he yodeled in an outrageous Caribbean accent.
The bike swooped elaborately back and forth across the deserted driveway, then revved even faster as it made the turn onto the main road. The sunlit country house grew smaller and smaller behind them, though they had no eyes for anything but the road ahead.
Oh Lord, if I had anything
Anything at all
I'd give it to you
Gloria...in te domine
Gloria...exultate
The End
(:./lilias/onlyu)
