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darker_london2010-01-23 08:19 pm
myeyesarehollow.livejournal.com) wrote in darker_london2010-01-23 08:19 pm
Moments Like This (Flynn, Quinn, Wedding Folk, OPEN)
The night had not granted Flynn very much sleep. He practically bounced out of bed on the morning of his wedding, having spent the entire night beside his best friend trying not to think of every single thing that could go wrong. Morning had barely touched the sky, and Flynn couldn't stay there any longer. It was his wedding day now. Who really cared that it was five in the morning? He was supposed to be frazzled with nervous energy, right?
Deirdre, who had risen early as well, out of habit and necessity because of her twins, greeted Flynn in the kitchen with some pancakes. They were Flynn's favourite, and even though he could barely make his way through the huge pile she gave him, he appreciated the gesture more than he could say.
There was a lot to take care of, and Flynn arrived at the Kemp Manor house early, welcomed by Liz and Emma who were already rushing around, setting things up. The ceremony was taking place on the conservatory, despite the lack of sun. At least it was inside, and the room had been decorated beautifully by Aly Kemp.
Autumn and the catering team arrived and started setting up. Peter showed up and started cleaning things. Thomas hung beside his best friend nervously, and Flynn hung around in the middle of it all, making everyone anxious until Deirdre pulled him into one of the guest bedrooms where he was supposed to change.
"You're making everyone crazy," she informed him, not unkindly. "Why don't you start getting dressed?"
"It's only twelve!" Flynn protested. "And I don't like tuxes."
Deirdre shook her head at her best friend and she reached out to grab him by the hand. "Well then my mam can take some photos of you earlier so you can spend less time in the tux later."
"Where's Quinn?" Flynn demanded, ignoring Deirdre's words. His stomach was a jumbles and he just wanted his love. "Is he here? I want to see him."
"You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding," Deirdre said automatically.
"Quinn isn't a girl, no matter how much he wishes he were. And I don't care, I want to see him."
Deirdre bit her lip, and then she nodded. Flynn spent the next several minutes chewing his fingernails to death until the door opened and Quinn appeared around the other side of it. "Did someone call for me?" he asked, grinning.
"Oh thank Christ," Flynn hissed as he crossed the room to pull Quinn into his arms. "Why are we doin' this again? I just want to be with you. Why does everyone else have to be involved?"
Quinn chuckled and he took hold of Flynn's hands. "Because they love you," he said calmly. "And because, once it's over, you will look back on it and be glad they were here. It's alright, Mal. You aren't doing this alone."
"But you're all...in the other room..."
They had had their buck's night together, because they hadn't seen any reason to split it up. And Quinn's reply was as natural as that had been. "There is no rule that says I have to be. We can get ready together. We can be together the entire time, Mal. I'd prefer that, actually." Flynn nodded quickly, relieved, clearly preferring that too.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. When Deirdre went around pinning brooches on people. When Spectre took his hands to tell him how proud and happy he was to see this day. When Adrina flounced in in her amazing dress. Eamon telling him he was the best person for Quinn, and that he was so pleased this was happening. His parents. Quinn's parents; all four of them. Peter's whispered words of kindness. It was as if he were watching it all on a blurry television, and no amount of spinning the dials would clear the picture.
Not until he was standing in front of his friends with beautiful music in the background with Quinn opposite him. Deirdre and Spectre were beside him, with Eamon and Adrina beside Quinn. Everything was right, and the entire day snapped into perfect focus.
Flynn was marrying the man he had spent his life loving. The man who had taught him how to love and who he had become a better man for. His Quinn, whom he had suffered with and rejoiced with. The man he had lamented losing for six years, found again, nursed through sickness, and who made him happier than anyone ever had or would.
Peter stood in front of him, reading words he knew by heart, though he left all trace of religion out of it. In truth, Peter couldn't officially marry them at all, but their union license was acquired, Peter and Spectre would witness it, and after the ceremony they had an appointment to get it ratified. They would return to the reception legally joined. All that legal mumbo-jumbo meant very little to Flynn. The important part was here and now.
He listened through Quinn's vows to him, his stomach fluttering as his lover showcased his unique ability to say anything with lyrical beauty. Flynn felt emotion try to claim him, and for someone who never cried, that was significant. He held back. He still had to speak.
When Peter asked him for his vows, Flynn stared at Quinn and found the words he had refused to write beforehand. Everything he wanted to say, Quinn already knew anyway. "I'm not a poet," Flynn said quietly. "I'm not a philosopher or a great thinker. Quinn, you make me feel things I can't express properly without music. But I'll try." Flynn chewed on his lip for a moment, but he never took his eyes off Quinn's own. "I didn't think I deserved this. For a long time, I didn't think I deserved anything nice. I spent a long time alone, and I found myself thinking of you every day, hoping you were happy. Knowing our time was over. And then you found me again. I saw you in the living room, talking to Spectre and I thought it was too good to be true. I thought you would hear what I'd been through and you would leave, but you didn't. You were so patient with me when I was closed off. You showed me what it was to love. Twice. In all my life, no one has ever meant more to me than you, Quinn. And I want you to know..." Flynn went to retireve his acoustic guitar and, with a slightly cheeky grin to the assembled mass he said, "I need a song to express this after all..." And with that, he stood opposite Quinn and he played the song Everything while Quinn listened in rapt attention. No one made a sound, even as he finished his heartfelt performance and stowed his guitar. They knew he wasn't done yet.
Flynn took a deep breath. It was a lot of words, and his next were words he hadn't said since he was fifteen years old. "You make me feel like I deserve love."
At that, Quinn burst into tears, and at the sight of his lover crying, Flynn was off too though in a much less dramatic way. They embraced and continued to hold each other as Peter stepped them through the rest of the ceremony in his patient and loving way. When he pronounced them husbands, they kissed and Flynn turned out to look at their gathered friends and family and he saw a great many of them were crying too, and he felt warm. So warm and happy and cared for. He understood Quinn's words then. This feeling in his heart, the safe and happy feeling which was so rare for them...that was why they had arranged the wedding. That moment, looking out over a sea of happy, loving faces...it would stick in his mind for the rest of his life. It would carry him through trying times, and fill him with joy during the good times. He was where he belonged, and he was well and truly staying there.
Deirdre, who had risen early as well, out of habit and necessity because of her twins, greeted Flynn in the kitchen with some pancakes. They were Flynn's favourite, and even though he could barely make his way through the huge pile she gave him, he appreciated the gesture more than he could say.
There was a lot to take care of, and Flynn arrived at the Kemp Manor house early, welcomed by Liz and Emma who were already rushing around, setting things up. The ceremony was taking place on the conservatory, despite the lack of sun. At least it was inside, and the room had been decorated beautifully by Aly Kemp.
Autumn and the catering team arrived and started setting up. Peter showed up and started cleaning things. Thomas hung beside his best friend nervously, and Flynn hung around in the middle of it all, making everyone anxious until Deirdre pulled him into one of the guest bedrooms where he was supposed to change.
"You're making everyone crazy," she informed him, not unkindly. "Why don't you start getting dressed?"
"It's only twelve!" Flynn protested. "And I don't like tuxes."
Deirdre shook her head at her best friend and she reached out to grab him by the hand. "Well then my mam can take some photos of you earlier so you can spend less time in the tux later."
"Where's Quinn?" Flynn demanded, ignoring Deirdre's words. His stomach was a jumbles and he just wanted his love. "Is he here? I want to see him."
"You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding," Deirdre said automatically.
"Quinn isn't a girl, no matter how much he wishes he were. And I don't care, I want to see him."
Deirdre bit her lip, and then she nodded. Flynn spent the next several minutes chewing his fingernails to death until the door opened and Quinn appeared around the other side of it. "Did someone call for me?" he asked, grinning.
"Oh thank Christ," Flynn hissed as he crossed the room to pull Quinn into his arms. "Why are we doin' this again? I just want to be with you. Why does everyone else have to be involved?"
Quinn chuckled and he took hold of Flynn's hands. "Because they love you," he said calmly. "And because, once it's over, you will look back on it and be glad they were here. It's alright, Mal. You aren't doing this alone."
"But you're all...in the other room..."
They had had their buck's night together, because they hadn't seen any reason to split it up. And Quinn's reply was as natural as that had been. "There is no rule that says I have to be. We can get ready together. We can be together the entire time, Mal. I'd prefer that, actually." Flynn nodded quickly, relieved, clearly preferring that too.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. When Deirdre went around pinning brooches on people. When Spectre took his hands to tell him how proud and happy he was to see this day. When Adrina flounced in in her amazing dress. Eamon telling him he was the best person for Quinn, and that he was so pleased this was happening. His parents. Quinn's parents; all four of them. Peter's whispered words of kindness. It was as if he were watching it all on a blurry television, and no amount of spinning the dials would clear the picture.
Not until he was standing in front of his friends with beautiful music in the background with Quinn opposite him. Deirdre and Spectre were beside him, with Eamon and Adrina beside Quinn. Everything was right, and the entire day snapped into perfect focus.
Flynn was marrying the man he had spent his life loving. The man who had taught him how to love and who he had become a better man for. His Quinn, whom he had suffered with and rejoiced with. The man he had lamented losing for six years, found again, nursed through sickness, and who made him happier than anyone ever had or would.
Peter stood in front of him, reading words he knew by heart, though he left all trace of religion out of it. In truth, Peter couldn't officially marry them at all, but their union license was acquired, Peter and Spectre would witness it, and after the ceremony they had an appointment to get it ratified. They would return to the reception legally joined. All that legal mumbo-jumbo meant very little to Flynn. The important part was here and now.
He listened through Quinn's vows to him, his stomach fluttering as his lover showcased his unique ability to say anything with lyrical beauty. Flynn felt emotion try to claim him, and for someone who never cried, that was significant. He held back. He still had to speak.
When Peter asked him for his vows, Flynn stared at Quinn and found the words he had refused to write beforehand. Everything he wanted to say, Quinn already knew anyway. "I'm not a poet," Flynn said quietly. "I'm not a philosopher or a great thinker. Quinn, you make me feel things I can't express properly without music. But I'll try." Flynn chewed on his lip for a moment, but he never took his eyes off Quinn's own. "I didn't think I deserved this. For a long time, I didn't think I deserved anything nice. I spent a long time alone, and I found myself thinking of you every day, hoping you were happy. Knowing our time was over. And then you found me again. I saw you in the living room, talking to Spectre and I thought it was too good to be true. I thought you would hear what I'd been through and you would leave, but you didn't. You were so patient with me when I was closed off. You showed me what it was to love. Twice. In all my life, no one has ever meant more to me than you, Quinn. And I want you to know..." Flynn went to retireve his acoustic guitar and, with a slightly cheeky grin to the assembled mass he said, "I need a song to express this after all..." And with that, he stood opposite Quinn and he played the song Everything while Quinn listened in rapt attention. No one made a sound, even as he finished his heartfelt performance and stowed his guitar. They knew he wasn't done yet.
Flynn took a deep breath. It was a lot of words, and his next were words he hadn't said since he was fifteen years old. "You make me feel like I deserve love."
At that, Quinn burst into tears, and at the sight of his lover crying, Flynn was off too though in a much less dramatic way. They embraced and continued to hold each other as Peter stepped them through the rest of the ceremony in his patient and loving way. When he pronounced them husbands, they kissed and Flynn turned out to look at their gathered friends and family and he saw a great many of them were crying too, and he felt warm. So warm and happy and cared for. He understood Quinn's words then. This feeling in his heart, the safe and happy feeling which was so rare for them...that was why they had arranged the wedding. That moment, looking out over a sea of happy, loving faces...it would stick in his mind for the rest of his life. It would carry him through trying times, and fill him with joy during the good times. He was where he belonged, and he was well and truly staying there.