pushbackthedarkness | (no subject)

(no subject)

Never in his life, with as long as it's been and with as many dangers he's faced, has Marcus imagined himself here.

And yet...

The gathering is small, especially now with Kat having gone, and Marcus feels her absence keenly. She had helped him with so much and her touch is everywhere, from the simple, but beautiful centerpiece on the table, to the suit she had helped him pick. It helps a little, having her influence scattered about the celebration. It wouldn't feel quite right, doing all this without Kat after having become so close to her over the years.

It's all so simple. They're on the beach, which feels appropriate for Marcus and Dan, even if they're not about to share why. Not far from where they stand, however, they shared their first kiss, years ago now. They've had dinners here, shared stories, and Marcus asked Dan to marry him mere feet from where they perform the ceremony. Simple is best, truly.

The ceremony isn't religious, because while Marcus is still a man of God, it's God who has made him into a weapon. He doesn't want that here and instead they opt for a civil ceremony, a friend Marcus has made who works at City Hall coming to officiate. There is no alcohol, but instead they have sparkling cider and an easy meal catered from a restaurant Dan and Marcus frequent often.

The only music comes from the bluetooth speakers Marcus has set up around the area, a playlist he and Dan had built together. And when the sun sets, as a surprise to them both, Sabrina uses her magic to light up the water in front of them in something close enough to a fireworks display that it won't attract too much outside attention.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

In a way, Dan finds himself glad they've waited until the city returned to itself to get married-- not out of any desire to wait, but somehow, as he stands with Marcus on the beach, the inclusion of the handful of spirits seems right, in that off-beat cosmic sense he gets sometimes. The shine had no longer been a hemorrhaging wound when he arrived in Darrow, but only with Marcus has anything healed.

He might have needed help with picking something to wear, but Dan's more comfortable in his own skin than he's ever been when he's holding Marcus's hands as he makes his vows.

And maybe the officiant seems slightly confused when Dan tells Marcus how difficult it is to be angry with anyone, anymore when he can only be struck grateful by the machination of infinite worlds that have brought him here, to this moment, but when they share their first married kiss, Dan swears he can feel the gentle turning of invisible hands. He hopes they're Abra's hands, somehow, that she's able to see this, the greatest lesson Dan Torrance could hope to give her about managing her shine and her heart.

God, he hopes she can see it somehow.

They're married then, officially, and after a few hours he finds himself watching as spirits wind their way through the party of the living, as his husband turns to gather another loved one into conversation, blinking back through the happy film of wetness in his eyes. Thank you.

"Are you getting all mushy on me again, love?" Marcus asks from near Dan's ear, speaking softly against his skin. His tone makes it clear he doesn't mind at all, the wet sheen on Dan's eyes as the sun sets, and in fact that he might be a little mushy himself after all this.

He'd never thought any of this would be for a man like him. A man of God, devout in his way, and an exorcist. A weapon. But he's here and he's happy and the words he'd spoken during his vows had been simple and true.

And isn't that what he's always clung to? The words that were true.

Dan has made it plain there are spirits here, mingling in their way, Marcus supposes, but there's not a single demon to be seen. Not that he'd been worried, really. Back home, a demon might have come for him simply due to his reputation, but in Darrow, they're fewer and further between.

The night is perfect, truly.

He's sitting near the water now, having pulled a chair over, his shoes and socks abandoned long ago and the legs of his trousers rolled up as the water laps over his feet. They're lucky to have all these people to celebrate with, even if they are missing some who ought to be here.

For a moment, Marcus closes his eyes and thanks them all, then opens his eyes again and looks back over his shoulder.

"Someone bring me another slice of cake!" he calls, grinning. "I believe you have to do what I ask, since it's my day and all."

"I think you're absolutely right," says Bill, walking up to Marcus with a plate of cake in hand. He barely remembers most of his own wedding reception; just fragments through a drunken haze. He likes this one though. It's quiet and joyful. Marcus might as well be family to Neil and Bill's pleased to be included.

"Are you having a good time?"

"I was going to say it's hard to have a bad time marrying your best friend, but I'm actually not marrying the idiot you're here with," Marcus answers with a smile of thanks to Bill and an invitation to sit when he drags another chair over by hooking his foot around the leg. Idiot is said with great affection, because Neil truly is the best friend Marcus has ever had.

"All teasing aside, it's been wonderful," he says sincerely. "I never expected this to be for men, but here I am anyway."

Bill drops into the offered chair, smirking a little and adjusting his hair across his forehead.

"Guess he's my idiot now, though," he says, and he doesn't try to keep the smile off his face. "Thanks for letting me come."

The invitation was one of those unexpected things that isn't a surprise, given how close she is to Sabrina; an inclusion obvious enough to be normal but gracious enough that Rosie can't help being touched by it all the same. She goes, collaborating with Charlie to make sure they have enough tissues between the two of them for Sabrina's floods of happy tears (and they both know her well enough to know that, no matter any protests to the contrary, there will be tears), determined to enjoy the evening in all its simple, easy happiness. The ceremony is lovely, and the reception afterwards a delight.

As the sun starts to set, Rosie walks along the damp sand a few feet from the laughing, dancing guests and the music, the fingers of one hand hooked in the straps of her sandals while the other keeps her dress out of the splash of the surf. She knows Sabrina has something planned for the end of the evening, but for now, it's just her and the waves, the lights of the reception a dim glow at her back.

"Jesus fuck, man. Was I this demanding?" I asked, putting a plate down in front of him, brow arched as I leaned with my hand braced against the back of his chair, a fork held out to him in the other.

Somehow, this one wasn't quite as hard as David's had been. Maybe it was because I'd had the practice. Maybe it was because Marcus was my best friend. Maybe it was because R wasn't there. Or because I wasn't there alone. Either way, it was a relief.

Shoes discarded and the cuffs of my suit pants rolled up over my shins, I sat near the water's edge, letting the waves lap up over my bare feet.

I had a glass of sparkling cider, which was fucking ridiculous and I would've given my left arm for a glass of champagne, but I couldn't exactly blame them for wanting a dry wedding. It was easier than David's wedding, the regret and loss I'd felt coming on unexpectedly as I'd sat watching the ceremony. I could just be happy for Marcus and Dan, and I could enjoy the first real, official date with my fucking boyfriend.

Speaking of, I twisted around to look back at the small group of wedding guests, smirking when I caught him over there talking with Marcus. I lifted a hand in a faint wave, and then turned my attention back to the water.

"Of course," Marcus answers easily. It is easy. Including someone who has become important to Neil, in whatever capacity that may be, was an easy decision to make. Marcus would have a hard time refusing Neil just about anything.

"Imagine," he says after a moment, looking truly amused. "An excommunicated Catholic priest marrying a man. If they hadn't already kicked me out, they certainly would now."

"You're always demanding," Marcus answers with a grateful smile as he takes the fork and then digs into the cake. It's as good now with his third slice as it was with his first.

Maybe he ought to eat something real at some point, but he likes the cake best.

"You could have refused," he points out with a grin, then nudges another chair out so Neil can sit down with him.

He takes his time walking over to Neil, enjoying the way that he looks, relaxed and sun-kissed. When he's behind him, he bends and drops a kiss into his tousled hair.

"Hey," he says. "Having fun?"

Bill laughs at that, lifting his drink in a toast. "I think that if they couldn't see the joy in this, then maybe they weren't something that was worth staying involved in in the first place." He holds up one hand in apology. "Just my ten cents."

"You're not wrong," Marcus answers. "The Church certainly likes to believe it's more God than God."

And as a man who hears God -- or has in the past anyway, it's been awhile now -- he thinks he's allowed to say at much with at least a small amount of authority.

"I like to think Darrow changes most of us, but even here, there are a lot of asshole priests," he adds, grinning. "I considered trying to get married in the Church just to make one in particular angry, but decided it's not quite worth it."

"Yeah, I think I am," I said, sounding only a little bit surprised as I reached for him, hand around his wrist and tugging him down to sit beside me.

"The alcohol selection's shit, though."

"I was never really religious," admits Bill. "But I grew up in a small town, so I know how it works." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I guess you've got to pick your battles, right? And, some days, you get to just eat your cake and fuck all the rest."

Bill smiles, letting Neil tug him down to sit beside him. He takes a moment to tug off his shoes before he slips his feet into the water.

"Yeah, well, I've got alcohol at home," he says. "So it's just an incentive to stay over, isn't it?"

"Yeah, 'cause I need another one of those," I laughed, my shoulder bumping against his as I finished off the last of my cider and set my glass down in the sand.

"Figure we're all gonna make ourselves scarce tonight. Give the two newlyweds some space."

"Always good to stack them up," he says, leaning in to press a kiss against the side of Neil's neck. "You know you're always welcome."

"And if today isn't one of those days, I'm not sure what else would be," Marcus agrees with his literal piece of cake in hand. He's not sure he'd have described himself as properly religious either, but he knows his circumstances were a bit unusual. Even for most Catholics.

Maybe especially for Catholics.

"It's my best friend's wedding. I'm not a total asshole," I smirked, settling into the chair at his side and swiping some of the icing from the corner of his plate.

"So, how's it feel?" I said, grinning before sucking the icing from the tip of my finger.

"Yeah, I know," I said, smirking as I reached out to take his hand and fed him back a line he said to me weeks ago: "'Cause the texts don't always cut it."

Looking out over the water, I said, "View's not half bad."

Most of Darrow wasn't that much to look at, but there were a few exceptions.

Bill hadn't intended it as a metaphor, but he's pleased when he realises it - once a writer, always a writer.

"You almost make me miss it," he says. "Being married."

"Not that I'm complaining about the texts," says Bill. He's quiet for a moment, taking in Neil's profile against the backdrop of the ocean. "Yeah. It's not bad."

"I don't think the mushiness has stopped at any point today," Dan points out, turning instinctively toward his husband. His husband. "That's how it's supposed to go, I hear, so I think I can be excused." His own voice stays soft, a little wobbly from happiness, and his smile ends p pressed to the line of Marcus's jaw.

He'd be happy to stay in so many of the moments that keep happening today, for as long as he can, and this is one of them.

Arms wrapped around Marcus now, he enjoys the contrast of cooling sea breezes while nestled against the warmth of his husband, almost drifting on the sense of security (sexier than it sounds) of finally being here. "Don't suppose your daughter could help jump start this place into doing one of its things, only it's a tropical honeymoon destination and the worst thing that happens is a sunburn."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4