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The ceremony was lovely, tender vows and a sweet kiss shared beneath an arch of hyacinth and ivy. Grooms mingled with their guests and snuck kisses throughout the evening, each wearing wide grins and that particularly smitten glow to match their new outfits. Asa dressed in a cream, pinstriped suit and golden cravat, Anthony perfectly contrasting in a rich black kilt, shot through with emerald and raspberry-red stripes, one fussing with the cake and the other sternly reminding the flowers to look their best.
Neither groom had much in the way of family anymore, but still they danced and laughed and shared fantastic wine and scotch with Anthony’s colleagues and the families Asa had befriended. After a few hours, Asa and Anthony found themselves tucked together on a little sofa, Adam and his little gang, the Them, as they’d been called, sat around them to listen to their stories, just as they had when they were young and Mr. Fell read poetry to their classmates, despite being in their mid-twenties now.
Asa, now Mr. Crowley-Fell, was just a good storyteller as before, speaking about one of their dates to Royal Albert Hall, but he was interrupted by Anathema, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she had said, the blond man lit up, exused himself and his new husband, and, holding tightly to Anthony’s hand, led him away from the reception.
Waiting there, replacing the ancient yellow Mini the pair had arrived in, was a sleek black Bentley, and the sight of it stopped Anthony in his tracked, his confused smile turning ecstatic and tears pouring nearly immediately.
“You—? For me?”
All Asa could do was giggle and nod before he was caught up in Anthony’s arms, being rather aggressively kissed.
“Ohhoho, you bastard, Angel. Marry me?”
“Again? Absolutely, my love.”