A/N: Bit of a crack fic really, just writing it for a giggle so it won't always be realistic; I'm hoping anything unrealistic adds a dash of comedy! Crappy prologue just to set the scene and answer some questions, my main focus is the wedding content. Will try to update on Fridays :)

~•~•~•~

Prologue

Fletch had been straight-faced and impatient since he'd stomped into work this morning and it hadn't gone unnoticed. Jac studies him as he sits on the sofa in her office, mug in one hand and file in the other, his jaw tensing as he reads. She rolls her eyes and throws her pen onto the wad of papers covering her desk.

"What's got you in such a grump today?" she asks, raising a demanding eyebrow. This needs to be sorted, otherwise she can't be held accountable for any action she takes against his moping puppy-dog face.

"You'd tear me a new one if I asked you that," he replies curtly.

She sighs. "Am I going to have to drag it out of you, Fletcher?" Again, quirking an eyebrow in challenge.

He carelessly casts the file onto the empty cushion beside him and stands, retrieving a folded envelope from his back pocket and dropping it on her desk. He nods for her to open it.

She eyes him, but slowly unfolds the envelope and hesitantly slips her fingers inside, withdrawing a sickeningly ostentatious ivory and rose-gold card. Her eyes widen at the sight and he puckers his lips, knowing her preconceptions and concurring with her.

"My cousin," he informs her, providing context for the names on the card. "Didn't think she was old enough to get married."

"How old is she?" Jac asks, confused.

"Early thirties. What I meant was, I haven't heard from her in so long that I didn't even realise she'd found a fella."

"Will you be RSVPing your acceptance or not?" She bites back a judgemental smile as her eyes meet his.

"I haven't spoken to her since my twenties, am practically estranged to that side of the family and have very unimpressive life updates to share. What do you think?"

"It's a fortnight away!" Jac exclaims. "What sort of wedding invite arrives two weeks prior?"

"Was probably an afterthought, wouldn't be surprised. Not to mention that it's me and a plus one. I've got four kids and no other half, that shows how much they know."

"So bin it. No point getting riled up over it now, is there?"

"What am I meant to say?"

"Nothing. Just don't show up."

He tilts his head and stares at her incredulously. "I can't do that."

"You can but you won't, because you're too polite for your own good." She hands him the invite and envelope before picking up her pen again. "Just tell them you're busy, it was too short notice."

He squints as he processes her words, then nods. Yes, exactly, too short notice. He could manage that.

~•~•~•~

Her phone rings as she's finishing dinner, Emma's mouth stained orange with pasta sauce.

"Hello," she answers.

"I'm going."

"Bon voyage," she quips.

"Kate went all teary and said that she desperately wants me there and you know what I'm like, I can't say no."

"You mean to say that you got coerced by a snivelling bride?"

"Pretty much. It's not good."

"It really isn't." There's a silence as neither know what to say. "It'll be a delightful family reunion for you."

"Don't even joke about it, it's serious. My only accomplishment is the kids and I daren't take them as it'd send Kate into a full-blown breakdown over the table plan."

She feels an unfamiliar flicker of sympathy in her gut as she listens to his woes. "Come on, Fletch. You've got a fancy new job, four great kids, a salary that can provide you all with life's comforts."

"None of which I have any proof of when I've got an invite for two to a wedding that, surprisingly, isn't being held on Darwin."

"If seeing you in action is the evidence they need, then cause someone a heart attack and admit them."

"And here I was thinking that the end of that sentence would go along the lines of them not being worth my time should they not believe me." She hears him laugh and she's surprised to find her own lips curving upwards.

The conversation goes on for another few minutes before they both bid farewell for the night. Jac gets Emma ready for bed, but her mind keeps flitting back to Fletch and she tries to stamp out the niggling idea that's furrowed deep into her brain. It's as she's trying to get to sleep that night, going over the day's events and subsequently landing back on the wedding, that she questions her sanity. The little seed that had been planted is rapidly spiralling beyond control, spreading like ivy and rooting itself into all rationality, sparing no nook of common sense. So when she walks into work the next morning, her mind set and no amount of logic or reasoning to obstruct her, she goes straight to Fletch's office and informs him of her decision, leaving him no choice in the matter.

"I'll come with you," she states. His expression goes from confusion to one of amusement and he waits for her to crack a smile, to tell him that he really is a plank for getting himself into this unnecessary situation. But she remains firm, her face set with sincerity.

"You can't be serious," he eventually replies.

"Why? I think you'd be pretty lucky to get somebody like me."

He smirks but then frowns. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"With your incessant whining it's a miracle I haven't strangled you. Somebody like me probably would have by now."

"Makes me wonder why you haven't…" he says, suspicious. She quirks an eyebrow but doesn't give a response other than that. "So... you're serious?"

The hesitancy in his tone does give her pause. Is she actually doing this? She really hasn't thought it through. She'd thought about it, but not through it and that's never a good sign.

"Serious, genuine, absolutely out of my mind, yes."

"And you're free for that weekend?"

"What?"

"Week Saturday," he tells her.

"Yes, Emma's with Jonny that day."

"What about Sunday? It's a four hour drive away, I was going to stay overnight. It'll be a late finish after the evening party."

Her face falls. She really hadn't thought this through. "Just text me the details," she snaps before turning to leave. She needs a moment to wrap her head around it.

They'd managed to have lunch together without discussing her recent proposition. He'd figured that he'd let her think about it. Later that night, Jac's lying in bed when she realises she still hasn't received any information from him so she texts him, squinting at the harsh light flooding across her face in the darkness of her room. 'Info?'

Five minutes later, her phone vibrates on her nightstand, a hefty message from him appearing on the screen. 'Saturday 25th. Need to leave by 6am, but I'll drive. It's in Mayview. Ceremony in a church followed by reception and food at hotel, Kate got me a room there as bribery. Wedding breakfast at 4pm. Evening party at 7:30pm. Check out by 11am on Sunday. No pressure from me for you to come, it's completely your choice x'

She considers what her weekend would consist of if she didn't go and decides that she's got nothing to lose by accompanying him.

'Good luck trying to get me out by 6am x' she responds.

He wants to thank her, to ask a million questions, but figures it'd be best to leave that for another time. 'You can nap on the way if it's any help!' They both go to sleep with a puzzled smile on their faces.

~•~•~•~

There hadn't been much conversation regarding the wedding for the past week, but now with only four days to go Fletch is needing answers to some burning questions and he can't leave it much longer. He walks into Jac's office with her customary chicken salad and his baguette in hand, shutting the door once he's inside.

"I'm starving," she says, holding out a hand and beckoning for the salad. He smiles and passes it to her, happy that she's in a good mood today.

"So, look… Are you sure about Saturday?" he asks as he takes a seat on the sofa.

"Yes, I've told you."

There's a pause as he chews through a bite of baguette. "I've let Kate know that I'm bringing someone but I can always call her ba-"

"If you don't want me to go, Fletch, I won't. Up to you."

He sighs, relieved. He feels like he's finally got confirmation that she's genuine about this, despite her previous assurances. "I'd like you to."

"There we are, then. Plus one; sorted."

He smiles appreciatively, but it's weighted with the uncertainty of a question that's been lingering in his mind since she first suggested her attendance.

"We should probably discuss ground rules," he broaches, studying his baguette to avoid making eye contact.

"What?"

He'd hoped she'd know what he meant. "Let's start with what exactly your plan is…"

"Plan? I don't know. Turn up, look pretty, pretend to care."

"Right…"

"If you mean ground rules regarding our farce of a relationship, then yes, that needs discussion." She eyes him, seeing the relief wash over him as she confirms her understanding; they are on the same page. Now that the words are out there, he shuffles to the edge of the sofa, enthusiasm renewed and a sparkle in his eye. Jac can't help but wonder if this is a crack in time, that she's actually witnessing teenage Fletch plotting a way to kiss a girl or embarrass a friend.

"So… quick fire. Go! Relationship status?"

"Established relationship. Not cohabiting."

He nods in agreement. "How long is established?"

"I don't know…"

"A year?"

"Nine months," she negotiates.

"Okay. How did we meet?"

"Stick as close to reality as possible. Met when you got the D.O.N promotion, went for a drink a few weeks later."

"Right. Now ground rules."

"Don't invite conversation with relatives that I have to take part in. Hands above waist. No dancing."

"That's surprisingly reasonable," he comments. He can't quite believe he is having this conversation, and with Jac Naylor of all people. "Have you got your frock picked out yet?"

"No, but it'll be black. Is that suitable?"

"So long as you don't upstage the bride, you'll be fine." He scrunches his nose and smirks, earning a roll of the eyes but a smile nonetheless.

They continue eating their lunch and he finalises some details about travel before they part ways for the rest of their shift. He daydreams the various outcomes, considers what she'll wear, wonders what she'll say. Four days. Four days, and then all shall be revealed.