Again

“I think I should warn you about something,” Aidan said, adjusting his tie. “Does it have to do with the upcoming ceremony?” Noah asked carefully. “Directly.” “You do understand that if you tell me right now that you’ve been previously married — and that the divorce isn’t finalized — and it happened less than six months ago — there’s literally nothing we can do about it at this point?” “What? No, of course not. How would I even manage to get married and forget about it afterward? Although… Kate and I did once make a pact — that if we both turned thirty and were still tragically single, we’d marry each other to get better mortgage rates and buy a condo in a decent neighborhood. And don’t think she hasn’t reminded me. Repeatedly.” “I would never assume otherwise. She’s definitely going to bring that up in her toast tomorrow, isn’t she?” “Of course she will,” Aidan said. “And she’ll be judging me. But no, that’s not what I meant. You should know that… I don’t consider today special.” “…Hmm.” “No, wait, let me explain! I like you. Fine, I admit it — I love you. Can’t help that. But I just think marriage and all the stuff around it is kind of stupid. Unnecessary. And mildly heteronormative. I know you see it differently, so I’m not objecting. Just… don’t be surprised if I don’t get emotional today.” “Thanks for the heads-up.” “Bailey, you’re not mad, are you? Come on, — I didn’t mean anything by it.” “No, of course not. It’s nothing. A trifle. A mere formality. Hardly worth getting upset about — such an insignificant thing, barely visible against the grander backdrop of life. It would be small-minded, laughable even, to be wounded by an event that alters neither the fate of the world nor the happiness of two specific individuals in any meaningful way.” “Uhhh… Are you having a stroke, or did you just decide to quote something? Okay, that was either Shakespeare or Schopenhauer, and I’m too wedding-brained to tell which white, dead guy with an SH-name you just summoned.” “Why’d you wait until the last possible day? I wasn’t exactly insisting. We could’ve just kept living like we were, or signed up for a domestic partnership — you know, without all this, as you put it.” “Okay, pick one: a slap, a fight, or a blowjob — which one’s gonna get us out the door faster?” “Not everything can be solved with sex.” “You keep saying truly absurd things. Where do you even learn that kind of nonsense?” Aidan shook his head. “Look, you can choose whatever you want from the menu, but just so you know — I’m really bad at slapping.” “We really don’t have time.” “I think I know what you’ve chosen. “If you’re really saying we have to leave right now, there’s still the drive to the courthouse… But you’re driving — I haven’t mastered multitasking yet. And rumor has it, you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road.” “It’s a five-minute drive. Four, if we don’t get stuck at the side exit.” “…Was that a challenge?” “No! It wasn’t!” “Mmhmm. Definitely sounded like a challenge.” “Aidan.” “It’s fine. You’re just nervous — it’s a big day, after all… I’m hoping you’ve forgotten how this conversation started?” “I… no.” “You’ve forgotten.” “…Almost.” “Shall we go get married?” “Let’s go.” The Middleton Municipal Court didn’t look particularly threatening — mostly, it stood out from the rest of the neighborhood by being brick, aggressively one-story, and adorned with flourishes like bulletproof windows and a partially glass roof. The signs along the street made it clear: parking was limited to thirty minutes. Please resolve all your legal joys and sorrows within the allotted time frame — or else… deal with the law. The irony was palpable. A small crowd had gathered for this momentous occasion — representing, by rough estimate, three generations. Among them: Caitlin and Blake, present not just as witnesses to legality but possibly to divine will; four adults who seemed parent-adjacent to the grooms; and one older woman who could have been someone’s grandmother… or a longtime friend. It was hard to say. After greeting their guests, Aidan couldn’t help but say: “You look absolutely amazing today, Caitlin Beth. What’s the occasion?” “Apparently, more important than yours,” she snapped. “Blake, what did I tell you? They didn’t even think about boutonnieres!” “Because we were thinking about our feelings,” Aidan said solemnly. “And about what an unforgettable, historic, and — at the same time — deeply meaningful day this is.” Noah simply nodded — he was still recovering from having to drive while Aidan was enthusiastically reminding him that theyreallyloved each other. If they’d been in a busier part of town, that ride would’ve ended very badly. “Good thing you have me,” Caitlin said, pulling out a small box of boutonnieres like a magician with something to prove. “What a coincidence! We were thinking about you too,” Aidan said. “Oh — Blake! You’re here! You’re… very dressed.” It wasn’t a weird comment: in warm weather, very few people voluntarily put on a long-sleeved shirt and a blazer. But their witness had done exactly that — and the sacrifice had not gone unnoticed. “Aidan!” Blake pulled Groom #1 into a hug. “Our baby’s all grown up! And now we send you off into a brand new life—” “You can wax poetic later. I have to stab this husband material with something sharp and decorative,” Caitlin interrupted, practically dragging him away — but then hugged Aidan herself, quickly and with feeling. “Don’t screw it up,” she whispered. Aidan just blinked at her, having no idea what she was talking about or why this strange woman was issuing him cryptic prophecies on his wedding day. Blake, meanwhile, had made his way over to Groom #2. “Mr. Bailey,” he said grandly, “may I also envelop you in a congratulatory embrace?” Noah allowed it, but sighed. “I feel old. And I’d just like to remind everyone that I’m technically six months younger.” “Don’t listen to him,” Aidan jumped in. “He makes up stories all the time — side effects of his job. Anyway, the rest of you came here to party, but we have serious business to attend to. We’re going to double-check that we understood everything correctly — in case the ceremony isn’t actually today.” “Go on,” Caitlin said crisply. “I’m finished. But absolutely no making out there — you’ll wrinkle everything.” The Municipal Court was unusually quiet and empty, as if crime had temporarily ceased to exist and there was simply no one left to judge. After the sunlit entrance hall, the hallway felt slightly dim — but it quickly led them to the clerk’s window, manned by a cheerful woman in a Packers T-shirt, jeans, and a bandana. “Hi there. Moore and Bailey, two-thirty,” Noah said with a polite smile. “Well hello, handsome gentlemen! What can I do for you? Looking to get a fireworks permit?” she said, laughing in a way so contagious they couldn’t help but join in. “Damn, Bailey — now I want a fireworks permit. What else do you guys offer?” “Well, we do weddings too,” she said with a wink. “Interested?” “Very.” Aidan grabbed the folder from Noah and handed it over with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. Both over eighteen? Perfect. Judge will be down in a minute — but I can go ahead and open up the courtroom for you now. Just head back into the lobby and take the hallway in the opposite direction. I’ll come grab you in a sec.” Approaching the gathered guests, Aidan put on the saddest expression he could muster. “Ladies and gentlemen… I regret to inform you—” “Richard Aidan Moore!” One of the women in the crowd cut him off, and both Caitlin and Blake’s eyes immediately doubled in size. “You— You’re Richard?!” Caitlin gasped. “How did wenotknow you were Richard? Why did you never tell us, Richard?!” She planted both hands on her hips like she was about to summon the wrath of several bridal parties past. “Because I am not a Dick,” Aidan said flatly. “I’ve never been a Dick. Please forget this ever happened. Mom, thanks a lot.” “You’re very much a Dick sometimes,” Caitlin said, refusing to back down. “Like when you didn’t invite me to the stag party…” “Aidan, tell us what’s wrong right now!” Mrs. Moore snapped, officially derailing the entire moment. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine!” Aidan held up his hands. “I just wanted to lighten the mood — everyone’s so tense. Did something happen?” “It’s a shame you can’t put thirty-year-olds in the Naughty Chair and make them reflect on their choices,” Grandma Moore muttered, shaking her head. “I’m not thirty yet,” Aidan reminded them all. “And anyway, I’m pretty sure adults lose the legal right to make their children sit and think once they hit twenty-eight or twenty-nine.” “Welcome, soon-to-be newlyweds and your esteemed guests!” the clerk announced with enthusiasm. “This way into the courtroom — pick your VIP seats while you can.” The room wasn’t intimidating. It wasn’t impressive either. There were no pews or benches, presumably because no crowd had ever bothered showing up to municipal court. Instead, there were four modest rows of chairs, a pair of tables for legal proceedings, and the judge’s podium. But Aidan found something to object to anyway. He leaned toward Caitlin and hissed: “There’s no linoleum! You liar, Young!” She stuck her tongue out and whispered back: “I had to say something to talk you out of getting married in a damn courthouse.” “You’re terrible at arguments.” “Will there be any religious component to the ceremony?” the clerk asked. “I just need to let the judge know what kind of script to use.” “I’ve got a psalm ready,” Grandma Moore offered, raising one hand. “I am, on the one hand, intrigued to see which sacred verse you’re about to yank completely out of context for this,” Aidan said. “But on the other — absolutely not.” He gently steered her into the front row. “Sit down, relax, and enjoy this absolutely stunning ceremony which will last— how long, again?” he asked the clerk. “Ten minutes. Tops.” “Perfect! No one even has time to get bored.” The moment Grandma Moore sat down, she popped right back up again — the judge had arrived: a petite woman in robes, holding a stack of papers. Most people had to look down to see her properly. “Oh no, don’t stand up — this isn’t a trial!” she said cheerfully. “I’m Judge Wadd, and I’ll be your server today… just kidding. I’ll be officiating your wedding. Come up here for a second, let’s double-check the details for the form.” It was a good thing she did, because when filling out the marriage license, Noah had written ‘Aidan Richard’ instead of the other way around. “You don’t evenknowme, Bailey. But I’m flattered.” “No problem, I’ll just scribble a little,” said Judge Wadd with a smile. “All right, everyone here? Got your cameras and tissues ready? Then let’s all turn toward me for a second — after that, you can stare at each other as long as you like.” A slightly absurd tradition dictated that, prior to exchanging vows, the future spouses had to stand roughly arm’s length apart — after all, it simply wouldn’t do to touch someone you weren’t legally bound to. So for the first part — “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two dudes in holy matrimony,” and the bit about how “this contract should not be entered into lightly, but with serious thought and deep awareness of the obligations and responsibilities it entails” — Aidan mostly tuned out. He was too busy being relieved no one had asked him to blush under a veil or wait for Noah to be walked down the aisle by his father, like some trembling virgin on loan from Regency fiction. By this point, literally everyone — except the grooms, the judge, and Blake — already had watery eyes. And it had only been a couple of minutes! Aidan was mentally working through the logic of emotional displays like that when they were told to face each other and start repeating their vows. There wasn’t much text, and the order seemed to be determined alphabetically, since nobody here was being made to go first just because of gender. So Aidan heard it first: “I, Noah James Bailey, take you, Ai—I mean, Richard Aidan Moore, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, to love and honor you all the days of my life.” And that was fast! Before he’d even exhaled, there was a ring on his finger. And Noah didn’t let go of his hand. And the damn courthouse must’ve been cutting costs on air conditioning, because it suddenly felt way too hot. Or maybe they’d overdone it with the air — because now he was shivering. And the air was so dry it caught in his throat, his eyes started stinging, and—oh. Right. Someone wanted something from him. Noah gave his fingers a little squeeze. The judge prompted, gently: “I’ll repeat. I, Richard Aidan Moore…” Of course Aidan repeated it. Come on — it was easy! You didn’t even need to break it into four chunks. A baby could remember it. Still, when he reached into his pocket for the ring, it briefly felt like it had vanished, and for three full seconds, he panicked — even though they’d been told up front that rings were optional. But the ring turned up, the desire to put it on definitely existed, and that part went just fine too. After a few more words — which would’ve sounded aggressively procedural if not for the context — he heard the phrase: “You may seal it with a kiss.” Finally. Something straightforward. Then came the congratulations — and somehow, a few minutes later, they were all outside again. The whole thing, start to finish, had taken just about twenty minutes. “Wow,” Aidan said, squinting at the sky. “Time moves differently in that place. Like… courthouse time exists in a separate dimension.” “I’m not even mad that you didn’t get emotional,” Noah said, hugging his freshly minted husband. “You have a very smug face, dear husband,” Aidan noted, narrowing his eyes. “That’s because I’m very pleased with myself. And with you.” “Well, obviously. Oh—look! Donuts!” Aidan pointed toward a building only a few steps from the courthouse. “Wanna go celebrate?” “Tomorrow,” said Mrs. Bailey firmly. “You need to… process.” “Yes. Go… discuss,” added Blake with dramatic meaning. “Oh yes!” Aidan exclaimed. “There’s so much we need to discuss. Like—what just happened.” “And how we’re going to love and honor each other,” Noah added. “‘Til death do us part is a very long time. This calls for an hours-long strategy session. See you all tomorrow.” “Yeah,” Aidan agreed. “That’s about how long we’ll need.” And after a few more rounds of kisses from everyone — some teary, some very firm, all wildly enthusiastic — they were finally allowed to head home.

***

“Be honest,” Caitlin said, her voice trembling. “How bad is it?” She looked like someone who hadn’t slept in a day, hadn’t eaten in two, had maybe (definitely) climbed trees, crawled across lawns, hauled furniture, checked both the primary and backup freezers, tied hundreds of bows and knots, assembled the guest gift bags with her bare hands, and possibly gotten into — and made up from — at least one fight with the caterers and the venue owners. “Where? What’s going on? Why do you look like a plumber at the end of a 14-hour shift?” Aidan stared at her, horrified. Caitlin was in stretched-out gray sweatpants, a filthy T-shirt, and her hair — unwashed and unraveling — was tied up in something that had probably started out as a bun. “Here, Richard! How catastrophic is this?” “Everything looks totally fine!” “Great.” Caitlin began to cry. “Okay, come here,” Noah said gently, pulling her into a hug despite her feeble attempts to resist with lines like, “I’m dusty!” “Do you want us to say something’s wrong?” he asked softly. “Whaaat?” Aidan blinked, confused, watching Caitlin nod while making a heroic effort to keep her tears and mascara off Noah’s shirt. “Because just saying it looks nice doesn’t actually prove we noticed all the things you did, right?” Caitlin nodded again and let out a shaky sigh. It was genuinely hard to spot a single disaster. The sun was shining, but the tables were set in the shade of trees strung with lights that hadn’t been turned on yet. Someone had clearly put a huge amount of effort into making sure the decor didn’t look cheap — but still had the effortless magic of something thrown together on a whim by a genius with perfect instincts for combining branches, flowers, twine, and ribbon. Even the name cards were handwritten in actual calligraphy. After a pause, Noah offered cautiously: “Sooo… aren’t the napkins too bright?” “I knew it,” Caitlin mumbled in a dazed, nearly sleepy tone. “But I couldn’t find enough of the fabric I wanted. So. This is what we got.” “The napkins are great,” said Aidan, not immediately picking up on Noah’s subtle eyebrow Morse code for “tread carefully”. Then he caught on and quickly added, “Um… why are the glasses mismatched?” “They’re supposed to be mismatched,” Caitlin said, pulling herself upright. She peeled herself off Bailey’s chest, gave herself a respectable medium-strength slap on the cheek, and announced: “I’m gonna go wash up. And get dressed. And maybe nap. If no one wakes me, I might just sleep through the whole reception.” “Don’t even think about sleeping through it!” Aidan protested. “This whole thing is for you! Arranged by you too — but still, for you. I even wrote a toast.” “Is it heartfelt?” Caitlin squinted at him suspiciously. “Not especially.” “Are there going to be dick jokes?” “Yes.” “And at the end, Noah gets overwhelmed and you make out for way too long in front of everyone?” “That’s a strong possibility,” Noah admitted. “It’s definitely going to happen,” Aidan confirmed. “Now go, Caitlin Beth — go, and come back fabulous enough that I’m not the hottest bitch here anymore. It’s exhausting.” “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll outshine you easily.” She turned to leave — and then stopped, patting her chest. “I also wrote a speech… I think.” She reached down the neckline of her T-shirt and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “I’ve been keeping it close to my heart. I should probably check if it’s even coherent. Or safe for elderly ears.” “I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Noah said. “Let me know if you need help with your zipper. Or anything else.” “Thanks! You’re officially my favorite half of this marriage,” Caitlin declared, finally heading toward her room — still scanning for sudden catastrophes or newly revealed imperfections as she went. “We’re not going to have to do anything hard today, right?” Aidan asked hopefully. “We can just drink perfectly chilled champagne, dance a little, accept congratulations when they come up?” “Almost,” said Noah. “We also have to take an endless number of photos with every guest and make sure everyone feels personally seen.” “Thank god we kept the guest list short. And thankyoufor agreeing not to do that whole public-vows-in-front-of-everyone thing. I would’ve combusted.” “Why?” Noah asked. “I don’t know! I just would’ve felt ridiculous. What do people even say in those? ‘Noah James Bailey, I’m so happy you’re my husband, because above all, you’re my best friend… blah blah blah.’ Like—no. My best friend is Blake. Or Caitlin. Depends on the day. You’re not in that category at all. You’re in a whole different league. A different universe. Would I survive living with Caitlin for more than two days? Absolutely not. But you? You barely annoy me— and we’ve been living together for what, two and a half years?” “Yeah, about that,” Noah nodded. “And sleeping next to Young? Horrible. She’s always yelling that I’m on her hair, or I’m too close, and then suddenly I’m too far away. It’s like trying to cuddle a war crime. But you—you’re easy. You’re the kind of person it’s easy to sleep with. And be around. And…” He trailed off, finally noticing Noah’s expression. “What? What is it?” Noah looked at him, smiling. Then he stepped forward, kissed him, and said, “I love you, too.” Click. The camera shutter snapped. “I think we’re being watched,” Noah murmured against his lips. “So this is the whole night now?” Aidan sighed. “Great. I feel like a celebrity. Maybe if I just…” He slid his hands significantly lower. The photographer kept clicking. “Nope. Didn’t work. What if I…” “No,” Noah cut in quickly. “That’s what private photoshoots are for. Without guests. They’re going to start arriving soon. Come on—let’s go greet people.” “Shouldn’t they come to us? Kiss our hands or something?” “That’s the protocol reserved for queens, I think.” “Oh good, so it is for us.” “Or the Pope.” “Ugh, fine. Not into wearing red shoes and oversize dresses. Maybe if we make the rounds now, we can vanish later and no one will notice.” “Vanish where, exactly?” “For… you know, our civilly sanctioned conjugal consummation.” Aidan smirked. “We’re not waiting until the end of the night?” “Absolutely not. We’re not that boring or that patient. And have you considered how many toasts we’re going to be subjected to with thirty people here? It’s too risky.” “Well then…” Noah nodded gravely. “I’ll await the signal.” “Two hours, tops,” Aidan muttered—just as his parents walked up to greet them. “What’s in two hours?” Mrs. Moore asked. “The dancing,” Aidan answered brightly. “So sweet of you to come! And where’s Grandma?” “Oh, you know her,” his mother sighed, waving a hand. “She said she’s not wasting her final moments of life— and yes, she does think she’s in her final moments— in some four-star ‘run-down’ hotel with us. She went to the Hilton with a lake view. Now she’s demanding the concierge call her a cab from a local co-op taxi service.” Aidan crossed his fingers. “Let’s just hope the conversation about workers’ rights she’s about to have with the driver doesn’t sneak its way into her toast.” “And if it does, that’s okay,” Noah said. “Grandma Moore has a gift for inserting a little social justice into every occasion. Why should this be any different?” And it wasn’t. Yes, Mrs. Vanessa Moore was the last to arrive, but she was the first to deliver a speech. Well—speech implies structure. She started with something that could’ve been mistaken for a warm congratulations…and then launched into a passionate monologue about mutual responsibility, the gravity of commitment, and the historical weight of those who fought for the right to even have this day. Guests nodded politely—because how do you disagree with Grandma Justice? —but a few exchanged uncertain looks, silently wondering if she remembered where she was. Noah kept a nervous eye on his husband, worried the speech might trigger a fresh existential spiral or a full-on debate with the senior Mrs. Moore. But Aidan held it together. He even let out a supportive whistle at the end. The rest of the family kept it smooth and sentimental—just enough misty eyes to make it respectable, but no emotional overdraft. And then there was Caitlin. Who had somehow transformed into an ethereal vision—a radiant goddess of chaos wearing heels that threatened structural damage to the dance floor. She opened with: “That was supposed to be me.”causing a collective inhale from the side of the room unfamiliar with her special brand of charm. But then she smiled, and the threat dissolved. What followed was part heartfelt tribute, part gentle roast, and part “this man was once my emotional support gremlin.” She told the story of how she’d waited for this day longer than either of them. How she’d watched the slow unfolding of something real. How, before Noah Bailey appeared on their (yes, she said our) shared path, she’d honestly believed Aidan Moore was genetically incapable of serious relationships, let alone marriage. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Aidan said, once Caitlin had finished emotionally devastating mostly herself. “I’ll keep this brief—because clearly we’ve reached the part of the evening where you’re wondering if you walked into the wrong wedding. Yes, today is a huge deal. A miraculous event, really. One that, if we’re being honest, probably shouldn’t have happened at all.” He turned to his mother with a dramatic flourish. “My mom used to tell me, ‘If you want to find a good man, maybe don’t sleep with everyone on the first date.’And did I listen? Of course not.” Across the table, Mrs. Moore’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “I never said that—what did you do?!” “Didn’t work anyway,” Aidan went on. “Although, technically, it wasn’t a date. Mr. Bailey here was just enjoying Chicago’s many cultural landmarks, and happened to notice one in particular: ‘Aidan. 600 feet away. Two minutes.’ How’s a man supposed to resist that kind of local architecture? I was stated very clear. No relationships. No feelings. Just a helpful neighborhood attraction. But Noah—who, let’s be clear, was also not looking for his One True Love— he didn’t disappear after twenty minutes like the blueprint called for. No, he spent the entire school break going on trips into the city. On a teacher’s salary, mind you.” Aidan gave a theatrical pause. “And then? Then the semester started. And suddenly he wasn’t showing up. I was the one driving here. Next thing I knew, I’d moved here. And by the next summer, we had Ewan. That’s when I started thinking: huh. Maybe this is serious.” He looked at Noah, and something softened behind the grin. “But then—this guy. I come home from a shoot—completely exhausted. Salt in my hair, oil on the models, you know— classic post-shoot burnout: ‘Aidan, I can’t hold my abs and my erection at the same time! ’ Anyway. Brutal. I walk in the door, and he just says— ‘So… what if we got married? ’” He turned to the crowd again, spreading his hands in mock outrage. “No ‘Richard Aidan Moore, would you do me the honor…’ No flash mob. No rings. No down-on-one-knee. What was I supposed to think?! First thought: it’s a joke. Second thought: if it’s no ta joke… it’s actually the most perfect proposal I’ve ever heard.” A beat. “So, of course, I said yes. Because how could I not support a man committed to such an elaborate bit?” He shrugged. “And now here we are. Honestly? Turned out pretty damn great, didn’t it?” Caitlin, a few champagnes in, raised her glass and slurred through a smile: “Translation? Aidan’s head over heels for Noah and beyond thrilled he locked that down.” She raised the glass higher. “And now—kiss, bitches!” Aidan blinked. “What, you think we were just gonna high five?” And then they kissed. A real one. The kind of kiss that made a few people look away—not out of discomfort, but out of respect. Because that kind of love deserved a little space. After that, there were fewer speeches and a lot more wandering between tables, the slow and sticky beginning of dancing. By the time the trees flickered to life with fairy lights and twilight edged into the sky, the newly minted Bailey-Moors managed to slip away from the garden crowd—and then the whole scene entirely. “This is a terrible idea,” Noah muttered, eyeing the very small room they’d just ducked into. It was the kind of bathroom that barely qualified as one: sink, mirror, wall. That was it. Aiden was leaning against the latter, and Noah’s lower back was already making friends with the edge of the vanity. “It’s not romantic. At all.” “How were we supposed to know they’d take this long to finish the room?” Aiden asked, half-whining, half-plotting. “What are they doing in there, spelling out ‘Happy First Married Night’ in rose petals?” “Is that a thing people actually wish somebody?” “Well, Blake did.” Aiden shifted, nudging Noah just enough to open a drawer. He rifled through it with an air of authority and emerged triumphant with a tiny basket. Inside: a couple bars of soap, five condoms, and a travel-sized tube of lube. “Well, somebody suspected something,” Aiden said, eyeing the basket like it had just flirted with him. “That’s… really weird,” Noah replied, a little unsettled. “Weird?” Aiden raised an eyebrow as he pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and undid his pants with casual precision. “Or kind of hot, Bailey?” Their jackets had been abandoned hours ago. Now there was only the soft sound of fabric shifting and breath thickening. “Don’t bother undressing too much.” Noah followed his lead, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. “This shelf wobbles.” “Of course it does. Someone’s already tested it out during a previous wedding,” Aiden said. “We’ll manage standing.” “You actually want to—?” “Yes, I actually want you to fuck me. Right here, right now. Because this window is closing, and I have no intention of reopening it later, which means you’d have to do it after the reception, and by that time, I’ll either be asleep or significantly less thrilled about the whole idea. Also, I’m getting hungry. So bring your dick over here.” “Oh wow,” Noah muttered. “That’s… a lot of arguments. I’d have been convinced after the first one.” His gaze dropped to Aiden’s hips—now very bare, since his pants had been shucked and kicked aside without ceremony. But his expression shifted immediately. “Your trousers’ll get wrinkled.” “They won’t have time for this nonsense.” Aiden stepped forward just enough to close the gap between them entirely. “I can’t believe we’re actually married,” Noah whispered. “I know, right?” Aiden grinned. “Is that something people get used to, or do they stay mildly shocked forever?” “I guess we’ll find out,” Noah said. And then, finally, they kissed without an audience. No need to press their lips together too neatly, no reason to worry about whose grandmother might be watching or whether anyone could track the movement of tongues. No sudden breaks to preserve appearances. No apologetic shrugs. Justthem, close and closer, until Noah’s hands slipped past Aiden’s waist and found their way lower, bolder, hungrier. It was going so well that Aidan finally muttered, “Honestly, I’d love your fingersnotto stop at the outside.” He tilted his head back, letting Noah ignore his earlier directive about staying half-dressed. His shirt was now open to the chest, and Noah’s kisses had moved from his throat to his collarbone and lower. “Uh-huh.” Noah reached behind him and handed over the little lube tube. “Open it for me, my hand’s busy.” “Ridiculous packaging clearly designed for people with three hands—or two people with nothing else going on.” Aidan fumbled it open. “Give me your finger.” The minor logistical hiccup barely slowed them down. When Noah slipped in a second finger, he also dropped to his knees—adding what could only be described as deeply distracting and enthusiastically entertaining elements to the experience. “You… have… in-credible… co-or-di-na-tion,” Aidan gasped, each syllable timed to the movement of Noah’s hand and mouth, and the flutter of his breath that kept stealing Aidan’s words away. He was barely holding the thread of the sentence, but still determined to finish it. Noah didn’t respond in words, but the low sound in his throat sent a soft vibration through Aidan’s entire body, making him arch and gasp, “Third. Now.” Noah, focused and obedient, did exactly that. Then he stood, gathered up his now-flushed husband, and turned him to face the wall. “You were right—this was a great idea,” he whispered, voice hot against the nape of Aidan’s neck, sending a full-body shiver through him. His left hand hovered at Aidan’s stomach for a beat, then slid lower, wrapping around his cock with a firm, slow stroke. “Bailey, if you don’t—oh god, thank you,” Aidan exhaled. “Yep. I’m here now,” Noah murmured, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. One sleeve had slipped entirely off Aidan’s shoulder, his shirt was definitely creased beyond salvation, and they had officially stopped caring. Noah rested his forehead against his back and looked down. “I love you.” “Shit!” Aidan jolted slightly. “Bailey, reflexes! Be careful with words like that.” He gasped, then added, “Might’ve been too early. Or not. Whatever. Move.” So Noah did. His hands found Aidan’s hips, and he started to move—slowly at first, then picking up a steady rhythm. It helped that the bathroom was on the second floor. Someone tried the handle once or twice, but gave up quickly—probably deciding to try their luck elsewhere. Not that anyone would have guessed what happened. They gave the wall a courtesy wipe and did their sloppiest to look mostly normal. Maybe a little disheveled. But that could easily be explained by the long party and the number of hugs they’d endured. And the faint glow in their eyes? That subtle flush in their cheeks? Surely just the fresh air. Or the dancing.