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now that the wait is over

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Life Plan: just gonna sit here and cry until henry and jeff get married






They get married on a Thursday afternoon because that’s when the roller rink is free. 


(Sloane offered to plan the reception.) 


Demi plays her own composition for the wedding march, sweet notes that fall like water on dry earth and surge up like the depths of the sea, like the well of impossible feelings and a loyalty stronger than dreams. 


Sloane stomps down the aisle as maid of honor in particularly heavy platform boots with spangled laces. Her maid of honor dress has a short, deliberately ragged tutu skirt and a rhinestone skull stretched tight across the breasts. The skull has red hearts in its eye sockets and the long stem of a vivid rose clenched in its bare grinning teeth. 


Jeff makes his own tux, and Henry’s; because nothing says “fuck you” to life as a princess like dressing in menswear at your own damn wedding. 


Their buttons are bright red rhinestones that match Sloane’s eye-hearts and shine like blood on the snow. 


Gerry gives away his sister, the bride –– and if there is lingering tension in the air where their hands meet, there is also genuine goodwill in conceding the role as protector he’d never really held to someone who will always be glad to have Henry’s back. 


“Who gives this woman to be married?” 


“I do ––“ and Henry leans over to kiss his slightly-fuzzy cheek as he places her hand in Jeff’s.


Ciara’s Bluebeard performs the wedding for them, as ship’s captain. It’s a bit of a stretch, really, but Deputy Director Brewer assures them it’s all perfectly legal –– and it if isn’t, well, they’ve been doing all the domestic things together already. The wedding isn’t a seal on their commitment; it’s just an acknowledgement. 


No rings, because a poisoned ring scenario is just all this happily-ever-after needed. Andy stands up as best man, supporting a radiant Jeff –– who,  according to Sloane’s not-quite-whisper, looks “almost handsome” in his obvious happiness –– and supplies the ribbons for hand-fasting. 


Their hands are shaking when they touch, and then somehow they aren’t –– because this isn’t, after all, a step into the unknown. It’s just finding home. 


Demi’s abuela has baked the wedding cake, even though she doesn’t know any of them from Adam’s housecat, and at some point Demi and Andy sneak in and decorate it with tiny candy sugar apples. They do not invite Sloane. 


Sloane produces an enormous paper-maché apple with an arrow through its center for a centerpiece; it’s an open question whether that is in truly hideous taste or the most perfect representation of their lives anybody could have made. It’s pedestal is –– not a shoe, thank Grimm –– but a book: a heavy, bound journal that turns out to be blank.


Their story is still waiting to be written.