Wedding of the Decade

Nancy Callahan was now allowed to get married.

Gabby Short could think of nothing worse than their spitfire of a friend willfully selling her independence for a diamond ring and a death certificate. Somehow, it stung more than she was outside of the jurisdiction of the law, her French-British dual citizenship saving her from the brunt of the law. The fact that she chose her fate, chose her suffering, was a great betrayal to Gabby. Had she not often soothed him that this marriage law fiasco would end alright, that he would survive it and be okay? He thought she had seen it as he had, had seen the imprisonment that marriage meant, and had suggested he would be okay because of escape, not because of acceptance. The fact that she was now deciding to get hitched frightened him – did she mean that marriage was not as bad as he had supposed, that he was supposed to just escape it?

Nancy Callahan was about to become Nancy Orwell, and worse than the treason of marrying herself off, she had made Max and Gabby her bridesmaids.

Obviously, they were to stand on the groom’s side and wear tuxes, Gabby knew he belonged to Nan. William Orwell had very few friends in the country, so Max and Gabby were to be of the groom’s party, while their wives were to act as bridesmaids – a job which neither took with the grace necessary for the position.

It was to be the wedding of the year, and Gabby was ready for it to be over and done with. Even with all of the other weddings, this seemed to be the fashionable wedding. Orwell was loaded, and Nan was loved. Orwell supplied enough money to make the wedding spectacular and fantastical – white gold lacing everything, the very picture of splendor – and Nan supplied guests from the top of the pureblood circles to her favorite bartender. No one could deny nor doubt that this wedding was going to be one for the books.

Gabby glared out the window of the small cottage that served as the quarters for the bride and groom, gazing across the way at the large green lawn. A spectacular arbor had been arranged, from which fairies flitted, magically grown roses curling up its walls. A white train with gold trim paved a way for the bride-to-be, while guests took their seats in comfortable, golden chairs. Beyond this set up was a large white gazebo-tent. A dance floor took precedence whilst tables lined the outer reaches of the canopy for dinner. The grass had games set up for the children attending, and Gabby looked out and saw that some early arrivals had already come and that there were already children throwing around fanged frizbees and playing other magical games – and one familiar figure towered above them all.

Gabby sighed and moved into the hallway, catching one of the party planners. “Could you go tell the redheaded bridesmaid to come inside? She’s out with the kids.” He pulled on an expression of goofiness as he plunged back into the bride’s quarters, the cry of “My hair, Gabby, my hair!” telling him an emergency was definitely at hand.

Kipling Parsons was excited for the wedding. He was aware of how extensive the cast list for this romance was, and he was eager to rub elbows with the very people he hoped to influence. He needed to get his name and his reputation into the mainstream and he was looking forward to the opportunity. He signed his name to the guest book, picked up a champagne flute, and took a seat, being told there was no arrangement beyond first come, first serve. Yuri soon sat on his left, Kenna, Rory, and Remy all falling in behind them. The plan during the actual party would be to  disperse to continue on their perpetual quest for interesting company.

Jack had been wrangled back into the bride and groom’s cottage, and was forced into a changing room. For a good minute she stared at the dress she was supposed to don – then for a good five minutes, she confronted the heels she was supposed to walk in. She shimmied out of her plaid shirt and her jeans, pulling on a tank top and some sweat-shorts. The hairdresser came in and magically did her hair up quickly, before commanding her to lose the clothes and don the dress, informing her with a sneer that she needed to step into the dress, not pull it over her head.

The hairdresser gone, Jack sneered after her, taking off her tank top. With the spite of a child, she began to pull the dress over her head. She soon realized why that was such a dumb idea – she found herself stuck in the dress, her arms crossed over her head, the dress falling to her waist, leaving her shorts-clad legs exposed.

She fell over twice before she bumbled out of the room. “Max? Max!? Save me!"

Despite the suit, Max knew his place was with the women today. He was here for the sake of the bride and beyond the wedding party there would be very few people attending who he could boast of being particularly acquainted with. But Nan was worth the hours of awkward small talk he would have to endure over the course of the evening and it was without worry that the Morrison made his way down the hall to find his favorite redhead.

Max had been sent by the wedding coordinator, a slender woman with blonde highlights and too much mascara named Stephanie, to heard up the remainder of the wedding party. The timid man had immediately complied with this new authority, finding himself slightly overwhelmed with the scale of the event and in awe that Stephanie was managing the entire thing without having a hysterical breakdown. On the contrary, the planner was calm and collected as she handled the individual disasters that were sent her way as girls got ready and guests arrived.

According to a passing hairdresser, Jack was the latest of the days disasters. While the woman had seen slightly miffed, Max was unconcerned that she would do anything to really disturb Nan's day. His incredibly kind, tolerant wife had already agreed to pose as a bridesmaid in Max's place, a position that he could not imagine her in no matter how hard he tried. After all, she had worn flannel to her own wedding day and she had looked out of place even then. Jack's place was not at the alter and yet she repeatedly placed herself there simply for Max's sake.

It did not take Max long to find his wife. Once again she was shouting.. His name, conveniently enough.

"Hey, hey, hey" Max spoke in his normal, calm manner, grabbing for Jack's flailing shoulders to steady her. She was completely blinded by the dress that trapped her and Max stepped back for a moment to analyze the Houdini-worthy puzzle she had gotten herself into. The Hufflepuff had little experience with dresses and even less experience taking them off, making him quite the wrong person for this job. Spotting the zipper, Max moved to her back and unzipped the dress just enough for Jack to slip her arms through and pull it farther down.

He only started to blush when he finally saw her face.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her in those little shorts before (they did share a bed after all) but there was something about them being away from home that made him more uncomfortable. Maybe it was something about that dress. Jack didn't quite look like Jack. Max took a step or two back so he could more easily see the woman who stood before him. She really did look like a woman now without the jeans and flannel that he had come to associate with her.

"You look.." Max started but his blush deepened and he immediately abandoned the sentence, leaving his mouth open in an awkward way. "Are you ready?" he asked after a moment, trying to salvage any of his dignity that remained.

Her blustering was rewarded as she heard the approach of her friend and husband, and she slumped a little, dejected in her realization that this was complete and utter failure. This could not be twisted into any positive light, not manipulated to actually be proof of some more redeeming quality - Jack was barely capable of dressing herself. She was the youngest of the wedding party and, even though she had probably had more responsibility on her young shoulders than most of them, her age was showing. She was not used to events that required a dress. She was not accustomed to marrying friends off - willingly, of course. But more than anything, she was not used to having someone she could admit her embarrassing defeats to, someone who would rescue rather than tease her.

The dress was pulled down and Jack heaved a sigh of relief, looking at Max with cheeks pinkened from the exertion. She reached up and patted her head - "Did she put glue in it to keep it from moving?" - and the reached her arms back in an attempt to zip herself up. Once again, this was an exertion she was unaccustomed to, and her fingers scrabbled at the zipper as she finished Max's sentence for him, "Like a poodle? Yes, but the stylist said French eez very in zees year." She rolled her eyes before sighing once again in defeat, turning her back on him. "Zip me up?"

He asked if she was ready and she rolled her eyes. "As ready as I can be. You'll catch me when I inevitable fall out of these shoes right? Or are we going down together?" She smirked, glancing up as Gabby strode by. She kicked out at him and he grumbled something in response.

Gabby was not ready for this. Technically, he was all poised to go. He was the very picture of everything a groomsmen should be. His shoes shone, he filled out his suit, and his hair laid still. But there was one more ornament to his dress to be donned, and he was certain that it was going to throw off the entire outfit.

He knocked on Irene's door. "Come on, Mrs Short, let's get this over with."

Max moved to zip up her dress, an odd little smile occupying his lips as he listened to her talk. He hadn't understood her humor when she had first moved in and there had been several long, awkward silences after she told jokes that passed right over his head. But as time passed Jack continued to get progressively funnier to the polite man and he often found himself amused over the littlest things that she did. It wasn't like she was trying to be cute, (Jack Dyllan should never, under any circumstances, be described as cute), but she was anyway.

"Together, I suppose." Max mused, lifting his arm slightly as if to hold out for her to grab before rethinking and lowing it back towards his side. Gabby walked by and Max's gaze followed his fellow groomsman lazily before turning back to his wife. He leaned an inch or so over and spoke slightly more quietly than before. "Don't worry, I've got your sneakers in the car. No one will ever notice."

- - -

There was a knock on Irene's door and the voice on the other side immediately prompted a scowl. The bridesmaid had been in a bad mood for twenty minutes now, ever since she had put on her dress and had the realization of just how much it resembled her own (second) wedding dress in all of it's short, sparkly, off-white glory. It would suffice to say that she was uncomfortable with the situation and Irene wasn't really sure why she had agreed in the first place. She had briefly met the bride twice and would be acquainted with no one at the reception besides her dear husband.

Irene opened the door, frown perfectly intact. There was no need to voice the torture she felt upon hearing that name.. surely Gabriel already knew. He stood before her looking almost identical to that day at the courthouse. Perhaps it was even the same suit. It was all a little too much of a flashback now with the knowledge that Jack and Max would be standing beside them at the alter again. Was it possible to get PTSD from your own wedding?

Not that it had really been a wedding. Because, no matter how many jokes he made, Gabriel wasn't really her husband. She wouldn't let him be. Irene stepped out and put on a sickly sweet smile that dripped of sarcasm. "Let's go."

- - -

Katarina stood uncomfortably beside Kendall as he chatted with a small group of Americans who were here on the groom's invitation. She was purposely removed from the conversation but no outsider could have determined if the young girl had been ignored by the other members of the party or if she was simply aloof in her own nature. Katarina had no interest in the discussion of Germany's changes for the cup but she was beyond reluctant to leave his company.

In the most technical sense, Katarina supposed that her brother was her date tonight. Augustus had received the invitation earlier in the summer and flatly declined, allowing for his two eldest children to RSVP in his stead. Kendall was here for the free drinks and Katarina was by his side because he had invited her out of courtesy and she had accepted for fear of being rude. It was going to be a long night.

Jack dropped her eyes with a sigh, forgetting that she was supposed to suck in her breath so that the dress could fit her - stupid wedding planner. As the zipper slipped up her back, she realized she needed to breathe in. She did, holding her breath in her chest, and the zipper finally finished its journey up to the base of her neck. She smoothed the fabric down over her stomach and thighs, before turning to look at Max. He looked spiffy, of course, as men needed only to to throw on a suit to look their best.

He agreed to fall down with her and she saluted him, grinning wryly. "With your help, I'm going to bring this whole ceremony to shambles." She tilted her chin, looking off into the distance with a slightly heroic expression. She grimaced, however, when she was reminded of her feet. She glanced down, quickly running through the schedule of the night, hoping that there would be some time before the reception to slip the heels off.

She turned to the mirror, attempting to catch the strands that had fallen out due to the dress debacle, when Max suddenly spoke. She turned around quickly, looking at Max with a sincere, open expression of awe and affection. He had thought of her, and had just demonstrated everything someone needed to know about her to be someone meant to be in her life. The expression was incredibly open, however, and the vulnerability struck her hard. She forced the expression off of her face, tilting her mouth downwards and arching her eyebrows, turning away casually, continuing to check her hair. "You're my hero, Max." She glanced back at him, smiling. She turned back around and slipped her arm into his. "Let's go - it'll give the planner a conniption to see me actually obeying."


Gabby's dull expression met Irene's disgruntled one. It seemed they were past even trying, though the very idea they would even try was a comical one. Gabby was certain the only reason Irene was not outright refusing was her inner sense of duty, as well as the fact that she had really like Nan when they had met at the dinner in which Nan had asked them all to be apart of her wedding. That made two people who were only here because Nan was one of the best women this world had ever seen.

Irene commanded them to go and Gabby tipped his chin upwards. "Right." He could not bother with a sneer, not twinkle, not make a joke. This was not a joking matter. Nothing about his friend committing herself to someone, willingly taking herself away from the people who needed her most, was funny. He looked almost green, as though he would be sick, as he turned around and walked briskly away, towards the part of the building that they would make their entrance from.


Kip had caught sight of the young woman to which his mind had often strayed in her absence. Katarina had become one of their favorite visitors at the Macbain bar. Though she was not there as often as they would like, she was often enough that they had begun to understand her a little more - or, at least, understand just how much there was about her that they did not yet understand. Everyone loved Katarina. Remy and Rory were potentially the least interesting, preferring the louder personalities, but they could not deny their admiration for her work. Yuri understood her art the most, often being able to speak the more in depth about her work. Kenna adored Katarina for everything she was.

And Kip...

He was intrigued.

He had thought he was the only one to notice her, but he felt a smile unfurl on his face as he heard Kenna madly scrambling over the other men. She righted herself and skittered towards Katarina and the attractive man at her side. She looked them both in the face, a bit breathless, and smiled widely. "Hi! Kenna MacBain, nice to meet you. Want to sit with us, Kat? There's room next to Kip!"