Author's Note: I was rewatching clips from Fringe on YouTube the other night and the idea for this popped into my head after Walter mentioned his purple tux. I know there have been some other fics written already that were also inspired by the purple tux (and some of them are quite good), but this was a little different than anything else I've read about it, so I hope you enjoy.
This story is dedicated to my brother, who I could totally see getting married in a purple tuxedo :)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the purple tux.
It's a beautiful morning, just a week before their wedding day, and she's flipping through some paperwork in the office in the back of the lab while she waits for the Bishops to arrive at work, since their current living arrangements require someone to pick Walter up each morning. She is just finishing the last of this month's inventory reports when he barges in and throws himself down onto the chair across from her, clearly extremely agitated by something. She looks up as he makes his entrance, and immediately jumps to the conclusion that something terrible has happened, though she hasn't gotten a call from Broyles yet.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"What's happened? Walter is what's happened. I mean, I know he's crazy, but this? How can he possibly believe this is a good idea?"
By this point she's realized that the world isn't ending, and no one has died, at least not yet, but she's still completely in the dark about what he's talking about, so she stops him, a quizzical expression on her face.
"Peter, I have absolutely no idea what you're saying. Why don't you slow down and start over..."
He glances over at her, recognizing her tone as the one she uses when trying to calm down a frantic witness, and begins again, slightly slower and a little calmer this time around.
"It's about our wedding. This morning, Walter started in at me the minute I came in the door, to make sure we were planning on having custard at the reception."
She interrupts him now, even more puzzled than she was a minute ago, because she's fairly sure that by this point he's used to his father insisting on rather random things, and she can't possibly see how Walter wanting custard would cause a reaction like this.
"I thought you liked custard though? It doesn't matter to me; we can have custard if Walter has his heart set on it..."
Giving a bemused shake of his head, he cuts her off mid-sentence.
"Oh, if only it were just about the custard... No, that's not the problem - it's way worse than some wacky food. The custard was just the beginning, because then he wanted to talk about my suit for the ceremony."
He sees the expression on her face and knows that she's jumped to the wrong conclusion, so he hurries to reassure her.
"Don't worry; he's not arguing for me to go naked, although I wouldn't put it past him. And that I could just say no to anyway, public indecency and all that. No, he's been begging me for weeks to wear the tux he got married in, but there is no way that's ever going to happen, because that tux is purple, and I have enough pride that I wouldn't be caught dead in it! I had been holding out hope that I might be able to talk him out of it, but you know Walter. He wheedled and pleaded and went on about it until this morning he talked me into at least trying it on, and wouldn't you know it, it fits perfectly. At which point he declares that "this is a sign," and then of course there's no arguing with him..."
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to cover the smile that's creeping across her lips.
"You think this is funny, don't you... You do realize that this thing is bright purple, right? Not some dark shade of violet, but practically neon colored? And if I don't wear it, my father is going to sulk for a month, and Walter sulking isn't pretty at all."
As she takes in the genuine distress on his face, she carefully wipes all traces of a smile off her face and takes his hand.
"If you really don't want to wear it, I'll be the bad guy and tell him I don't want you to wear it because, I don't know, maybe it clashes with my color scheme?"
At that, he looks over at her and chuckles.
"That wouldn't be a lie, you know. That thing would clash horribly with almost anything. But no... I think this time I just have to man up and wear the damn thing. This is really his way of wanting to have a part in our big day, and I guess it wouldn't kill me to make him happy this once... "
He stops and glances up at her as a new thought crosses his mind, worried that maybe he's trampling on her toes, since he's always heard that the wedding is supposed to go how the bride imagines it, not the crazy father of the groom..
"That is, if you don't mind. For all I know, you've had this day planned out for years, and I'd be willing to guess that if that's true, there wasn't any purple tux involved..."
But she simply laughs and squeezes his hand reassuringly.
"I'm just glad to be with you, purple tux or no purple tux. And if it means that much to Walter, you'd better wear it, and wear it proudly."
And he leans over across the desk and kisses her gently, then pulls back and gets up, his face that of a man who has resigned himself to his fate, for the good of the world.
"I guess it's time to tell Walter the good news..."
They are married in a short and simple ceremony, with a small crowd of friends and colleagues standing witness. Ella takes her duties as flower girl very seriously, taking extra-special care to scatter exactly the right amount of petals with each step, while Olivia waits impatiently behind the doors at the back of the hall.
She is much more nervous about this than she thought she would be, and she isn't sure where the anxiety came from. After all, they are simply making their commitment official in the eyes of the law, and after crossing universes for each other, that shouldn't really be a momentous occasion. But, inexplicably, today has become extremely important to her, and the only real reason she can think of is that it is because he has come to mean everything to her, and today they will both seal and celebrate their incredible love.
So she waits nervously, excitedly, her mind running in all directions at once. And then the doors are opening, and Broyles pats her hand gently as she places it in the crook of his arm and they step into the aisle.
Her eyes flicker quickly around the room, briefly taking in the friends who have come, but they are drawn irresistibly to the vibrant splash of color at the end of the aisle - Peter, in his purple tux, his mouth stretched wide in a giant grin, eyes shining, waiting for her. The walk down the aisle takes only a moment to complete, and then she's there with him, and he takes her hand.
The ceremony goes quickly and smoothly for the most part, except for the point where Walter, as the best man, can't remember which pocket he put the rings in and has to be saved by Astrid, who remembers that he tucked them inside his handkerchief. In a month she'll remember very little of the details of it, but the look in his eyes and the joy on his face will stick firmly in her mind as some of the best memories of her life.
Finally, they are pronounced man and wife, and the kiss they share is both gentle and passionate, carrying with it memories of their first kiss, in another world and another time, and all those that have followed since, in good times and in bad. Today, they celebrate the love that brought them together, overcoming all odds to emerge victorious, as it always will.
As they link hands and turn towards their friends, she glances over at him, standing there proudly in his shockingly purple tux, almost exploding with happiness. And in that moment, she realizes that thanks to Walter's crazy fashion sense, she has a new favorite color.
Three years pass, and aside from a short and heated debate regarding whether or not to put a picture of them in their wedding finest on the mantel over the fireplace, the purple tux is largely forgotten (Olivia wins the debate, of course, over Peter's loud and exaggerated protestations, and the picture sits on the mantel between a picture of Etta taken on the day they brought her home and an old Bishop family photo, Walter's contribution to their decorations).
It's a Saturday evening, and after getting Etta settled down for the night, they're relaxing in their room before turning out the light, winding down from a hectic week. He's sprawled out on his stomach on one half of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he skims through the latest issue of some magazine, and she is leaning back against the headboard, her knees tucked up and her hair falling loose on her shoulders, intently focused on a thick book.
After a few minutes, she is distracted from her book as she remembers something funny from that day that she had catalogued away to share with him, and she speaks without looking up, a smile spreading across her face as she runs the memory through her head.
"So, Etta has decided on her favorite color..."
He pulls his eyes away from his magazine (currently sitting open to an article on how to build a fire-breathing jet-propelled dragon), always ready to hear some story about his highly-adored daughter, and knowing from the tone of her voice that this is going to be an amusing one.
"Oh really? What is it?"
She turns towards him now, a smirk on her face as she answers.
"Purple, of course. Apparently she's put some thought into this too."
"You don't say. And when did this momentous decision come to light?"
"Well, we were out shopping, and when we walked past the toy section she saw this purple unicorn and started begging me to get it for her, and when I reminded her that she already has three unicorns she informed me that they weren't good enough. Apparently, they needed to be purple, because, to quote our daughter, "Purple is the bestest color in the whole world, 'cause Daddy weared purple when he married you, Mommy!""
At that, he groans and buries his face in his pillow, which muffles his voice substantially as he grumbles into it, but she still catches phrases such as, "great, now my daughter's joined the purple tux club," "never going to get away from that damn suit," "I'm going to kill you, Walter," and "it's long past time to burn every wedding picture."
She can't help laughing at how melodramatic he's being about this, and he pulls his face out of the pillow to glare at her.
"I've been humiliated for life and you respond by laughing at my pain?"
With a great effort, she manages to stifle her chuckles long enough to respond.
"Don't you think you might be taking this a little too seriously, Peter? You know, most people would think it was cute if their daughter was so enthused about her parents' wedding day that she chose her favorite color based on that."
"You know Etta, though - she's going to go around announcing to the whole world that her father rocks a purple tux, and I'll have to face the other parents at the PTA meetings knowing that they've heard about my one moment of extreme unmanliness..."
His voice trails off as he realizes how ridiculous he sounds, and she looks down at him with amusement in her eyes.
"Are you really sure you want to call the day you married me your "one moment of unmanliness?" And besides, I happen to think that you looked extremely handsome in that tux. Purple suits you."
"Handsome, huh? I like the sound of that..."
He quickly shoves his magazine off the bed and snatches the book out of her hands, dropping it onto the floor as well, and then pulls her closer to him and continues, punctuating each pause with a quick kiss..
"...maybe I need to find myself some more purple clothes then... purple shoes... a purple fedora... purple boxers..."
And she threads her fingers through his hair, her eyes lighting up and a huge smile on her face as she throws out one last comment before passionately returning his kisses.
"Well, you know what they say... purple never goes out of style..."