The morning of her brother's wedding, Jules woke up unusually early (for a day off). When Sam got to her house at eight, she had already been up and about for several hours, as evidenced by her half-done hair and scattered brain. He draped his plastic-bagged suit over the back of the couch and told her to go finish up, that he'd make the breakfast. She sighed, blowing out her bangs, and kissed him on the cheek before disappearing back down the hall, round brush still in hand.
He unloaded food from her refrigerator, rooting through Tupperware containers and doggie bags. Soon, the countertop was filled: whole wheat bagels and lox cream cheese, Wednesday night's leftover curry takeout, a sliced grapefruit, crackers and a container of hummus, and a Ziploc bag of cookies they had made after work the day before.
He grabbed one with chocolate chips and followed Jules. She was curling her hair, a look of frustration on her face. "Shouldn't you be doing that at the country club?"
"We should have left yesterday. We're just making it if we leave in fifteen minutes…" She glanced at him, finishing up her bangs. "Shouldn't you be eating some real breakfast before you go for the snack food?" She put down the curling iron and checked herself in the mirror.
"I ate cereal for breakfast for eighteen years," he said. "Mom isn't here to stop me anymore." Jules laughed and passed him, heading upstairs. "Are you eating?"
"Make me a bagel," she called down. "I'll eat it in the car."
He smirked to himself and went into the kitchen, finishing off his cookie before grabbing a knife from the silverware drawer. He packed a grocery bag full of random things from the kitchen – some sandwiches, water bottles, trail mix, apples – figuring they could pick up some other crap from a gas station along the way.
When he was done, Sam tied the handles of the bag together and left it on the counter. By the time he was done cleaning up, Jules had finally made it back downstairs. She had done her makeup, finishing off with pink lipstick. She looked beautiful; Sam had to stop for a moment, just to stare. When she saw him watching her, she paused.
"What?"
"You look good," he said modestly, and she shook her head, smiling, and put her dress – in plastic as well – on top of Sam's suit.
"Thanks for making food," she said, ignoring his compliment and peeking into the bag. He caught her blush, though, and refused to hide his smile. "I hope you made enough for four."
The teasing grin she shot him as she passed threw him off. She was back down the hall in the bathroom, grabbing some last minute things that would help her look her best. Lint roller, extra nail polish, a few bobby pins – he knew the drill. Two sisters, a mother, and a father high up in the military – he was no stranger to black tie events, nor to the tireless preparation that accompanied each one.
"Four?" he called, trying not to sound too fazed. As if on cue – and also before she could answer – a car horn honked outside. He turned and pushed back the curtain; there was a Jeep Grand Cherokee outside, but he couldn't see the driver or the passenger; the pear tree outside the house was blocking his view. Before he could go around to the living room window, though, Jules reemerged, checking her bag to make sure she had grabbed everything she needed.
"Let's go." She draped her dress over her arm and went out the front door, sliding the key into the lock once she was outside. She was barefoot, her heels tucked beneath her arm. "Lock it on your way out?" she called, and hurried down the front path. Sam gathered the rest of their things and backed out, turning the key once the door clicked shut.
Jules had the back hatch open and was arranging her things to prevent her dress from wrinkling. When he was near enough to see the passenger of the car, she grabbed his suit from him and laid it out.
"Is that Winnie?" he whispered to her as she slammed the door shut. This was really throwing him off; he knew that the two women had gotten coffee together outside of the HQ, but he didn't think they were on family terms. Certainly not close enough for her to be invited to Jules' brother's wedding.
She furrowed her brow. "Yeah," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She was either thoroughly enjoying his complete confusion (probable) or was totally oblivious to his being out of the loop (considerably less so). She rounded the car and got in on the left side; Sam waited a moment longer, trying to piece everything together, before sliding in on the right.
And the surprises were still coming: Spike was in the driver's seat.
"Hey, man!" He grinned and craned his neck, checking that everyone was buckled in. "All set?"
"You hair looks great," Winnie said, and Jules smiled, one hand reaching up to touch it. "Hey, Sam."
"Hi."
"Thank you." Jules leaned across the center counsel and grasped Winnie's hand. Then she was back in her own seat, legs swinging up to rest on Sam's knees. "Spike, you have the address?"
"In the GPS," he replied easily, and swung a left. "We'll be there in about two and a half hours. Damn Barry had to get married out where his roots are. AKA where aliens plant crop circles and cows go moo."
Jules leaned forward to flick him in the back of the neck. "We grew up on the other side of the city," she said. "Thank your lucky stars you don't have to drive out there today. Dirt roads through cornfields." The last statement was directed more toward Winnie.
"Try driving there in the snow," he replied, "in the dark. Five miles from the nearest convenience store, not even counting the ride through the cornfield. Hell on earth. So glad I'm a city boy."
Jules and Spike bickered casually for the next forty-five minutes or so while Winnie sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally interjecting a laugh or an offhand comment. Sam stayed quiet for the most part, just watching. He knew the two other officers were comfortable around each other, as teammates should be, but he had never noticed, before, how close they actually were. There was an element to it that was toned down on the job: they acted like siblings.
He let himself panic, just for a moment, about being Jules' plus one. There were two people, right there, who could rat them out at any time, either to Greg or to Holleran or, worse, to Toth. Once the first wave passed, though, he was able to assure himself that they valued the team bonds too much to say a word. Despite this, there was still an uncomfortable knot in Sam's stomach that refused to let up.
Spike pulled into a gas station somewhere off the highway (Sam hadn't really been paying attention to street signs, so he wasn't exactly certain where they were) and claimed payment for the first fill. Winnie excused herself to the bathroom; Jules said she wanted a Sierra Mist and hopped out, pinching Spike's shoulder as she passed.
Sam followed her, hoping to find some answers.
She was in the candy aisle, eyes scanning the shelf. She looked up when he approached her and pointed. "Original, peanut butter, or coffee Twix? They have so many different kinds, now. It's so hard to decide."
"What's going on?" he asked, keeping his voice down in case Winnie was out of the restroom already, and could hear him. "I thought we were going to Barry's wedding?"
"I didn't know how you'd react," she responded, just as quietly. The candy decision was abandoned, briefly, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean, I know we had that case, but you had to be professional. You couldn't very well go off on a homophobic rant and refuse to help a kid in need."
"Wait," Sam said, and gripped his head to stop it from spinning. The whole morning had just been news after shocking news and he wasn't sure how to handle it. "Barry's gay?"
"If that's a problem, you're going to have to find a ride home." She grabbed a Twix off the shelf at random and walked past him to the cash register. He stared at her for a moment, then started toward her, before realizing she had forgotten her drink. He turned on his heel and peeled open the refrigerator door before joining her at the counter.
"It's not a problem," he told her, and passed the cashier five dollars. Jules repocketed her money and turned to him, listening. "I'm just wondering why Spike and Winnie are in the car with us."
The bell above the door jangled, announcing Spike's entry. Sam dropped the subject for a moment as he passed. He told the woman to keep the change and led Jules back outside to the car just as Winnie finally emerged from the bathroom. There was a sudden burst of noise from that general area as she ran into Spike (literally, by the sound of it), and he jokingly berated her.
Outside, Sam leaned against the hood of the car, watching as Jules took a quick swig of her drink. Her explanation followed a deep breath.
"Spike's brother is marrying Barry," she said finally. "They've been going out for a while, and we've been spending holidays together and hanging out and doing family things. I have never eaten so much pasta in my life. Instead of being the Scarlattis and the Callaghans, we've kind of merged into this weird group of people who bear somewhat of a resemblance to an unofficial family. I've known Spike for six years, and for most of that time, you know, he's been yet another brother, more than anything. Last year, Anthony proposed."
She gave him a moment to absorb this information before continuing.
"Spike's been seeing Winnie for a month or two, now. They're keeping it pretty low-key. It's not that much of a problem, since she's not technically on the squad. Boss knows. Ed knows, by default. I know because…" She paused, and he picked it up.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His mind was still, ultimately, on the legal merging of two of his teammates' lives, but being one of two that were out of the circle caught his attention.
Jules twisted the cap of her Sierra Mist for a few seconds, back and forth, before answering. "We thought you might get angry with him. For how he led Natalie on."
She knew, quite well, his feelings on that subject. He had ranted to her many (many) times, and she had also seen, first-hand, how it had hurt his little sister. He had not given the subject up lightly, and he still harbored a bit of a grudge toward Spike for doing that. It wasn't to say that he hadn't done the same thing, before, but this was Natalie. She had come to him crying over a scraped knee or a broken toy or just hormones, and he had done everything in his earthly power to prevent the tears. Being a big brother meant protecting your sister, no matter what.
"After the whole thing with David, Greg talked to him," she said. "He told Spike that you said that trouble follows her, and that he might not want to get too involved. And Spike weighed the facts and decided that he needed to find someone more stable."
Sam opened his mouth to retort, angrily, but Spike and Winnie reappeared in a flurry of laughter. In one hand, he had a bag full of chips and sodas and candy bars. The other arm was wrapped around Winnie's waist. This was not helping matters, and Sam went around the other side of the car. He could hear them, still; Spike dropped his voice before asking what was wrong (as if that would help).
Through some sort of telepathic communication (he wondered, briefly, if that kind of bond came with being so emotionally connected, because he and Ben could, on occasion, tell what the other was thinking), Natalie's name was exchanged. Spike's arm dropped from Winnie's hip to rub at his neck, awkwardly, before getting back into the car. The two girls followed, but not before Jules grabbed Winnie's hand again. With a pang, another feeling came through: she was part of their little family more than he was. She was generally thought to be more accepting, and therefore gained the privilege of being privy to important information.
Had they not been out in the middle of nowhere, he might have stormed out of the car. But he had nowhere to go, no way to get home – and besides, he couldn't just let Jules down like that. Going dateless to your gay brother's wedding was one thing, but going to dateless to your gay brother's wedding because your gay brother's soon-to-be-husband's younger brother didn't take your boyfriend's sister to the wedding? Even worse.
For the next thirty minutes, they rode in an awkward silence. Spike obviously still felt really guilty, because he kept clutching the steering wheel more tightly than necessary. Winnie must have fallen asleep, swaying easily with each turn the car made. She had her head rested back, though, as opposed to against the window, a sorry attempt to not mess up her hair.
Jules was the one to break the quietness. "Turn on Willie," she said, and Spike reached across the center counsel to do so, as if he was waiting for the command. Sam was glad that the roads were relatively clear (strange, it being a Saturday, but they were also surrounding by nothing going toward the middle of nowhere, so it might not have been that out of the ordinary) because the car jerked to the side and cut across two lanes. The Element behind them – one of the only others on the highway – honked angrily and Spike sat up, straightening the car out and waving an apology in the mirror to the driver.
The sudden movement must have woken Winnie up because she stretched after a moment, her back popping. Then she rested back against the seat and smiled at Spike. The radio whirred quietly, getting the disc in place, before the music started.
Sam knew, through experience, that Jules enjoyed listening to a range of music. It was mostly rock, but she also dabbled in rap (his personal favorite), orchestral, and the sickening beats of pop. But never, in the four years he had known her, had he even considered she'd enjoy Willie Nelson.
Jules started singing along immediately, but it took Spike a while longer to catch on. By the end of the song, though, he was crowing the loudest and most enthusiastically. Winnie was giggling herself silly in the passenger seat, occasionally belting out a few lines herself. When the song restarted, though, Sam realized, with a pang of horror, that On the Road Again was set to a never-ending loop. When he glanced over at Jules, though, and saw that her mood had lightened considerably (and she even seemed to be having a good time), he let his exasperation go and wiped the disgusted look off his face.
He learned the hard way that in forty-five minutes, plus the time it took to get through traffic (there was a surprising amount once they entered a broken down little town surrounded by fields), one could listen to Nelson's most popular song (debatably) thirty-two times. And to make it even worse, Jules and Spike had some sort of preexisting duet in which Spike sang the highs and Jules sang the lows and they switched off and used strange voices and substituted words and made complete fools of themselves. Winnie was snorting ginger ale out of her nose in the front seat. Sam, however, was very much confused by everything going on, and pinched himself to make sure it wasn't a dream. (It wasn't.)
About ten minutes from the country club, he dropped his bad attitude and disregarded his lack of knowledge, focusing instead on how adorable it was to see Jules swing her arm back and forth in time to the music. Her words were warbled by her laughter, and when she glanced over at him, he threw caution to the wind and kissed her.
Instead of being pinched in the arm and given a warning about secrecy, which he had come to expect, she just smiled and put her hand on the back of his neck. He felt like he was sixteen again, just for a moment, riding in the backseat of the car with a girl by his side and his best friends driving. And then he snapped back to reality and pulled away, shooting her an apologetic look.
"Hands to yourself, what is this here?" Spike sang from the front seat, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Sam's stomach dropped. "I like to keep my seats clean, oh Mama Dear."
"Seats clean, oh, seats clean, dinky dinky do," Jules replied, acting as if they hadn't just slipped up. "This is what I learned at my school."
"You're making me feel ancient," Winnie laughed, and dropped her head into her hands. "Oh, my God."
"Turn," Jules commanded suddenly.
"The GPS says we have another five miles."
She unbuckled and launched forward, pointing over his shoulder at a sign coming up on their left. "It says authorized personnel and employee entrance. I think, as the Maid of Honor and Best Man, we qualify."
"We're not getting paid for taking these jobs," he replied, but turned anyway. "We get to stand there with fake smiles and smelly flowers and we're not getting paid."
"You're just nervous." She settled back in her seat but didn't reattach her belt, as if she was ready to jump back into action if he dared turn around. "You've been to loads of weddings, but you've never been the Best Man. Just take a breath and you'll be fine."
"Stop trying to talk me down," he said. "It's your day off."
"Just saying."
Spike pulled into one of the many empty spots around the back of the country club. Down on the left, behind the building, chairs and tables were set up for the reception. Otherwise, there was no sign that anybody was there.
"We've got ten minutes," Jules said, and jumped out of the car before it had even stopped. Spike swore and slammed on the breaks, craning his neck around to make sure she was uninjured. She opened the back hatch and he just took the keys out of the ignition, not even bothering to straighten out. Winnie went around to help her.
Clothes in hand, they went in through the back door. Despite the warning that, if opened, the alarm would sound, nothing happened, and they continued down the long winding hallway, trying to find some sort of sign that they didn't pull into the wrong parking lot. (It was the only one for miles, though, Sam had noticed, so this was doubtful.)
The walls were a yellowing off-white and the floors were tile. This was, obviously, very behind-the-scenes; they passed the door to the kitchen, which was bustling with activity, shortly thereafter, proving his point. Finally, they reached the double doors at the end of the hallway and pushed through them.
The room beyond that was dramatically different. It was a huge, domed lobby hall with another pair of double doors (larger and more extravagant than the ones they had just come through) that led, presumably, to the chapel. There weren't many people in the hall itself; most everybody was already inside, their voices ricocheting off the high ceilings as they waited, anxiously, for the service to start.
Spike's mother appeared from behind a large, flowering vase, and started speaking to him in rapid Italian. He responded, then turned to the rest of them. "She's taking you and Winnie to get ready with the rest of the women," he told Jules. Then he turned to Sam: "You're with me, buddy."
Sam stepped forward, expecting Spike to lead him there, but his partner just pointed. "Ma said straight through those doors there. First door on the right. I'll be there in a second."
He knew exactly why he was told to go ahead, but it didn't stop him from turning around once his fingers touched the door handle. Spike was standing close to Winnie, her elbows in the palms of his hands. He was whispering something to her, a smile on his face. It was still strange to him, seeing her out of her work clothes. He knew, of course, that she was alive outside of the SRU – but he had never actually thought about what she would look like, act like. Unlike Kiera, she never hung out after work at The Goose with the rest of the guys (and Jules).
He realized, quite suddenly, that he didn't know her at all.
Spike kissed her on the mouth before letting go of her arms. "I'll see you in there," he promised, backing away. He watched Winnie, blushing, go through the same doors that Jules had just left through before turning around. When he saw that Sam was there, he coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.
Sam pushed the door, holding it open until he was sure Spike had a firm grip, then went into the first room off the right. It was small, with only two stiff chairs, a mirror, and a window. On the right side, there was a door. Sam laid his suit on one of the seats and went to stand by the window, from which he could see the front parking lot. It was packed, a dramatic difference from where they had come through. He could hear Spike behind him, playing with the plastic in his hands, and Sam had just opened his mouth to speak when the side door burst open.
"Michelangelo!" a man shouted, and Sam turned to see him hugging Spike. "You made it!"
"Just in time," he responded, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Jesus Christ, you cut your hair."
The man touched his head self-consciously, running his hand through his short-cropped hair. "Yeah. I figured, just 'cause my name's Barry doesn't mean I have to be a Watson."
"Dude," Spike said. "Didn't you see the last season of What About Brian? You look just like him, except uglier."
"What can I say," he said, lifting his shoulders. "It runs in the family."
"Speaking of." Spike pointed at Sam, and the man turned around. He was a head shorter than Spike, but about the same build. His hair was short and a reddish-brown color, and the tie around his neck was loose. The smile lines around his eyes and mouth made him seem carefree and happy, and there was no doubt in Sam's mind who he was related to.
"You've gotta be Sam!" He crossed the distance between them and shook his hand. "I've heard so much about you. You really are as hot as my little sister says you are."
"Uh," he said. "Thanks."
"That's Barry," Spike confirmed.
"And that" – he turned around and pointed at him with both hands – "is soon to be my brother-in-law. And you both need to get ready because I'm walking down the aisle in seven minutes."
"So you're the one wearing the dress." Spike pulled his Newport Beach tee shirt over his head and threw it onto the chair. "I always thought it'd be my mother escorting Anthony. That slut!" He looked so gleeful at that.
"Good thing I shaved my legs," Barry said, and turned to Sam again. "Why are you not getting dressed, Pretty Boy? Your girl is going to stand on that altar and she needs a dude in the pews to dance with her after."
"If you don't, I will," Spike said, and buckled his belt. "Obligatory in-law dance. Awkward, yet completely mandatory." He finished off his wardrobe with his jacket and crossed to the mirror, running a hand through his hair.
"Do you need some gel or something?"
"SEVEN YEARS AGO," Spike shouted defensively. His voice had risen considerably, and Sam let himself wonder, briefly, if being Italian entitled you to being loud around family. All four years of being team members, and the only times he had heard Spike talk like that, he was panicking. "THAT WAS SEVEN YEARS AGO. I AM A MOUSSE FREE MAN, NOW."
"Finally, acceptance. It's about time. I thought you were going to be in denial forever."
Sam felt awkward. These two obviously had a history together, countless Christmases and Thanksgivings and stories exchanged. Memories made together. He changed quickly into his suit, listening to Barry tease Spike.
"Where's Anthony?" Spike asked as Sam buttoned up his shirt.
"He's with the girls. We decided we couldn't see immediate family before the wedding. You know, that dumb tradition. I don't know, it was his idea."
"Ma's in there," he replied, fixing his cufflinks. "I guess he didn't think it all the way through."
"Your brother…" Barry sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. "So," he said instead, and looked over at Sam. "You treating my sister good?"
"Good as I can." He slid on his jacket. "She doesn't talk a lot about you."
Barry shrugged, as if this didn't faze him in the slightest. "I embarrassed her a lot, growing up. I'm the black sheep of the family. The outcast." He grinned giddily and patted his tie. "I'm her favorite."
"She speaks pretty highly of Hunter." Judging by the smirk on his face, it was obvious Spike was trying to get a rise out of him. "And I love you, man, but Theo got me a discount on my car…"
"The only one she talks about is Jackson."
He felt, suddenly, like he'd said something wrong. The two other men dropped their gazes to the floor. Barry cleared his throat.
"Jackie died a few weeks ago. Out in Afghanistan."
Sam rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin and sighed.
"That's why she wasn't there for the call with Charlie," Spike said quietly. "She was at the funeral."
There was a pause. "Why didn't you go?"
Spike sighed. "I never got to meet him. He couldn't make it home for the holidays, and that's the only time I'm with everyone. He was always out in the field or on base with his family…"
"I'm getting married," Barry said suddenly, and clapped his hands together. "I would rather not cry before I go out there, okay? Seeing Sharon and the kids is hard enough." He took a deep, shaky breath. "Let's go. The girls are probably waiting."
He was first out into the hall. Spike took a minute to fold his clothes neatly on the chair before starting towards the door.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I didn't know."
"Jules is a very private person," he said to the door. His voice wasn't judgmental or condescending; he was just letting his friend in on something. "Letting you in like this… let's just say that the only reason I'm here is because of Anthony. She doesn't like getting close to people because she's scared of them getting ripped away. Like Jackie. Like her mom."
Spike glanced back, holding the door open for him. The small gesture was a peace offering, if one was even needed, and Sam took it.
The girls were out in the lobby hall, giggling quietly. Spike's mother was standing next to them, smiling at Winnie like she was the one getting married. There was another woman, dark and leggy, holding a bouquet. All four turned to the boys as they came through the doors, and Spike and Sam lost their breath simultaneously.
Winnie was in a deep purple, strapless dress. Her hair was teased and curly, just brushing her shoulders. She looked gorgeous, and Sam appreciated that, but his eyes were on Jules.
The dress barely touched her knees. It was light red, ruffled on the top, and extremely flattering. She looked strong and tiny, as always, but also breathtakingly beautiful. Spike, by some measure of will, was the first to regain control.
"Wow."
"I didn't know how formal it was," Winnie said, her brows knitting together nervously. Jules grabbed onto her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. The other woman smiled widely, like the dispatcher was an adorable animal, and patted her shoulder.
"It's a wedding." Jules said it quietly, but the sound carried across the room. "It's an excuse to knock the socks of your guy."
Sam grabbed Spike by the elbow (it was the brotherly thing to do) and helped him forward. He, in turn, dropped a kiss somewhere in the region of Jules' hair, trying not to mess up her makeup. Spike, on the other hand, stood there dumbly, a stupid grin on his face.
"We've gotta sneak in last minute," Sam whispered to Winnie, and offered her his arm. She leaned up, kissed the side of Spike's mouth, and let him lead her away. Behind them, Spike sputtered incoherently while Jules laughed.
They went into through the side entrance of the chapel, used by guests to prevent the orchestra from starting early. They found seats somewhere in the middle, left of the aisle. There was a man standing on the altar, chatting quietly with two other men. The rest of the room was buzzing with a light excitement, many constantly turning in their seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of the wedding party.
"I never lose my cool like that," Winnie whispered to him suddenly. He glanced over at her; she was rotating her bracelet, but her eyes were searching the room. "He makes me feel things I haven't felt since high school." She let her gaze fall on him. "I'm back to being an awkward teenager who doesn't know what to say."
"I know how that feels," Sam replied, thinking of that red dress. "Jules…"
She picked up his broken sentence. "You two are really good together." When he said nothing, she dropped her eyes again. "I know what you're feeling about Spike now. Both he and Jules have talked to me about it. But please don't take it out on me. I've liked him for a while, now, and he just… picked up on it. He asked me out. I'm sorry he didn't choose your sister, Sam. That's gotta suck, having a friend break her heart like that. But I'm not the one you need to blame."
He didn't get a chance to reply, though, because the band started up. Two little girls entered first, distributing flowers across the floor. The crowd let out a unanimous aww. One of them ran up to the men on the altar, clinging to the leg of who Sam presumed to be her father, before she was taken back to her seat by an older woman.
Next was the ring bearer who was, undoubtedly, related to Spike. There was just something about him that was very excitable, but not in a juvenile way (despite his young age). He took his seat next to the flower girls.
The woman from the hall appeared, an older man on her arm. The girl beamed, uncontained tears spilling down her cheeks, and Anthony – the man front and center – laughed good-naturedly. The two took their seats, and Sam turned his attention back to the doors.
Most of the SRU guys preferred to stay in their streets; Ed was the only one he'd seen in a suit more than once. Spike looked sharp. It was hard to look at anyone, though, but the girl on his arm. Jules looked even more extravagant than she did before, if possible.
Once they reached the front and took their places – Spike next to Anthony, Jules on the other side of the platform next to one of the other guys, who stuck his tongue out as she approached – the music changed. Everyone in the congregation stood as one, and Sam slipped his hand into Winnie's. She looked up at him, surprised, then smiled.
Instead of Here Comes the Bride (or some other version of so, as Sam had been expecting), the orchestra started up with an instrumental rendition of Bad Romance. The older women looked completely scandalized, but the rest of the crowd burst out laughing. Once the initial wave of laughter had passed, the violins picked up again and the doors opened.
Barry was trying to muffle his laughter and compose himself, but he was still shaking as he walked down the aisle, escorted by Mrs. Scarlatti, who kept hushing him. Once he reached the altar, everyone fell back into their seats. Scattered chuckles were still circulating around the room, and Anthony said something to Barry that made the surrounding group giggle.
Sam tried to pay attention to the service. He really did. But somewhere between the ramblings of everlasting love and unbroken promises, his eyes slid to Jules, who was watching the two men with beaming pride. Halfway through, the man next to her leaned down and whispered something, and she punched him in the arm.
Before he knew it, I dos were exchanged and Barry and Anthony kissed. Then they continued down the aisle, hands clasped together, ducking under the showers of rice thrown their way. The rest of the party followed them; Spike broke away from Jules to squeeze past an elderly couple and grab Winnie, pulling her along.
Shortly thereafter, once the tears had been mostly dried, a set of double doors that Sam hadn't noticed were thrown open, revealing the back lawn. The chairs the four had seen when they pulled up where now joined by several tables, a tent, and an enormous buffet. Everybody poured out onto the green, settling themselves down in the chairs and picking up their emotional conversations.
Sam just stayed by the door, both unsure of where to go and hoping Jules would come find him. A few minutes later, Winnie appeared by his side, blushing. "Hi," she said breathlessly, and leaned back against the brick of the building. "They'll be out in a second. Greg called; Spike's taking care of it."
Sure enough, Jules and Spike rounded the building, laughing, with the two other groomsmen trailing behind them. Jules was first to spot them, and changed course, holding onto Spike's arm and stepping carefully through the grass. Sam hadn't even noticed her high heels.
"Hey," she said once they were close enough, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Spike pulled Winnie against his side. "You hungry?"
"We'll get food," Spike said. "You ladies go sit down."
Sam followed him to the buffet, the girls trailing off in another direction. There was still a massive crowd around the table, though, so they waited at the end of the line, leaving each other to their own thoughts. Finally, though, Sam brought up what had been bugging him all day.
"Are you gonna snitch?" he asked.
Spike ducked his head, half-smiling. He shook his head. "Look, man. What you and Jules do on your personal time is not my business. I don't like the risk it gives to the team, but it's not my problem. Today, though…" He turned to Sam and offered him his hand. "Hi. I'm Jules' brother-in-law Michelangelo. You can call me Spike."
The knot in his stomach lessened up a bit, and he pumped Spike's hand twice before letting go. The line was starting to move, and in no time, they had reached the table. Sam got a pretty wide range of food – mashed potatoes, chicken, salmon, green beans and almonds, lemon pepper broccoli – unsure of what Jules was in the mood for. Spike had a different approach; he was piling his plates high with things that, he explained, Winnie liked. His knowledge of her obviously didn't extend very far, though, because all he had was a baked potato and chicken.
Finally, some sort of feast was arranged, and they headed back to the girls, who were sitting near the front of the party. Barry and Anthony were only a few tables away, at the head of the chaotically organized reception. There was another woman sitting at the table with Winnie and Jules, along with three children, one of which was the ring bearer.
"Uncle Mike!" he shrieked once they were close enough to see. He ran from the woman's side and attached himself to Spike's leg.
"Scotty!" With some difficulty, he dragged himself to the table. Sam took the plates from him once he had set his own down, and passed one to Winnie. Hands free, Spike picked the child up and looked him in the face. "You've grown!"
The woman, who had been with the girls in the lobby hall, leaned across the table and offered Sam the hand that wasn't gripping the baby. "I'm Nora," she said. "Michelangelo's sister."
"Pleased to meet you."
"These are my kids – Scotty, of course, who just turned four. My daughter Charlotte, who's a year. And this," – she ruffled the hair of the other child – "my eldest, Nicholas. He's seven."
"Hi," he said, mainly to Nicholas.
"He's Auntie Jules' friend," Jules told him. All this produced was a look of concentration followed by glare directed at Sam. He recoiled slightly, out of pure surprise, but then realized this was a child. In retaliation, he slid his chair closer to Jules' and started to eat.
Spike was busy introducing Scotty to Winnie, who was completely fascinated with him. The ring bearer rattled off, atop Spike's lap, about the collection of dinosaurs he had been given for his fourth birthday. He went into relative detail, describing their colors, names, and their favorite types of food.
"I've got one named Squiggly," he told her, his eyes serious. "He's lactose intolerant, but he likes Mac 'n Cheese best."
"I might have to take him home with me," Winnie said offhandedly to Nora, who laughed. "He's just the cutest thing."
"He's been talking nonstop for weeks," she replied, smiling at her son, who was briefly distracted by the mashed potatoes on his uncle's plate. "You hit that phase, you know, and everyone else in the house is secretly hoping he'll get acute laryngitis and we'll have a couple days of quiet."
Barry stood up at the front table and clinked his spoon against his glass. Tony stayed seated, watching him with a smile, and the crowd fell silent. Even Scotty shut his mouth and listened, his tiny fingers tapping against Spike's watch.
"I think it's time to make a few toasts," Barry shouted. There were scattered yells from the younger partygoers, and his smile grew wider. "I wanna start first with my own family. My father raised the five of us without much help – except for my beautiful grandmother Rosamarie, may she rest in peace. When our mother left us to join the circus, or the United Nations, or to become an sky diver in the Black Hills, he held us together. He gave us the world, and… well, that's all you can have, isn't it?
"I was blessed with three older brothers and a baby sister. Hunter was always the most logical of us. He liked math and disregarded the fantasy worlds the rest of us kids lived in. He had his nose in a book ninety-five percent of our childhood. And you know what? If he hadn't been around, I wouldn't have even gotten through school. He was the one who showed me how to inspire myself to learn and to succeed.
"Jackson didn't really have a stereotype. He liked football, but he also became secretly infatuated with the world of fashion. Whether or not Chanel's tits had anything to do with it is debatable. Anyway, when he joined the armed forces, we supported him every step of the way, despite hardly ever seeing him. From there, he met and married the beautiful Sharon, and produced two little girls I am proud to call my nieces – Stephanie and Maryana. I like to think that his spirit is here with us today, and that he's responsible for the overflowing toilet in the front bathroom. He always did stick Julianna's Barbies down there, after all."
There was scattered laughter, and Jules whooped loudly. Barry pointed at her, acknowledging her agreement.
"Theodore… c'mon, everyone loves Theo." The loud applause was reply enough. A man at another table stood up and punched his fists into the air, appreciating the attention. "That goofball is the one who got me here in the first place. Great car salesman, right?" Beside him, Tony shook his head, laughing at the stupid joke.
"Last, but not least: the strong Julianna. She was more of a man than we ever were, yet more of a lady than any of us could ever hope to be. Girl advice, boy advice, remedies to get gum out of hair and blood out of shirts – she knew it all. She may be my baby sister, but she's carried me more than once.
"And before I hand over the limelight to my beautiful husband – who I am so thankful for, because he looked past my ugly face and saw right into my heart of gold…" Anthony laughed, and Barry swept his arms out, gesturing to the rest of the party. "I'm grateful that all of you came today. I love you all a lot. Thanks."
He sat down, watching everyone clap for a moment, before exchanging a few, quiet words with Anthony. There was a sudden onslaught of clinking glasses, and Sam looked around to see that even Spike and Jules had joined in. Barry stuck up his fist, his other hand coming up to hide the middle finger he flipped all of them, before kissing Anthony.
Tony stood up once the clinking had died down. His voice had a harder time reaching across the party, unlike Barry's, who had a naturally loud voice. (This actually surprised Sam for a moment, because it seemed that the Scarlattis were the ones who were skilled in voice raising.)
"Barry basically summed up everything that I'm feeling, in a more poetic way – minus the little sister thoughts, because mine's older, and the older brother thoughts, because mine's younger – so I'm gonna keep it pretty short. My dad couldn't be here, of course, but my mom could, and I'm really thankful for that.
"My sister Nora's here with her husband Allan and their kids Nick, Scotty, and Charlotte. They're all superb people, real flower children. I owe a lot to my big sis, and I'm really happy to have her here today. And, of course, my brother Mikey, the big-time bomb expert. We've had a few clashes in the past, but we've since moved on. I'm so lucky that he said yes to being my Best Man because brotherly bonds are the strongest, most unbreakable kinds that you can have.
"Last, just like Barry, I'd like to thank all of you. Family from Italy – famiglia da Italia – friends from school, work, et cetera. You are all such great company. Thank you for coming." He blew kisses out into the crowd and sank back down in his seat. No sooner than he had sat down, Barry bounced back up again, glass in hand.
"And a toast," he yelled, "to those to love us most!"
Barry and Tony hopped from table to table, from the shouting Italians to Jules' distant, ultra-Christian cousins (not invited by the grooms themselves, but by "the Lord above"). It was a while before they made it to their siblings, but once they were there, they collapsed into the chairs between Sam and Spike.
"Saving the best for last," Barry said. "Hello, everyone."
"This is Winnie," Spike told them meaningfully. Anthony laughed and leaned across his brother to shake her hand.
"We've heard a lot about you," he told her. "This guy doesn't have a bad thing to say about you."
"Really." Winnie grinned at Spike; he ducked his head, blushing. Sam pitied the poor guy.
"Julianna, do you want to come get cake with me?" Nora stood up. "I don't mean to leave you guys so abruptly. I thought maybe you two would be famished from your great trip around the world."
"You thought correctly," Tony said. "Thank you, woman. I will take your child."
She passed Charlotte to him, and he hugged her against his chest. Jules stood up.
"Winnie, you want to come?"
"Sure."
The women left, leaving the men alone with the kids. Scotty had fallen asleep against Spike's shoulder, and Charlotte was playing with the flower in Anthony's lapel.
"Remember when you started storing chemicals in the doghouse?" Tony asked suddenly. Spike burst out laughing, waking up Scotty, who rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Poor Oreo," Barry said.
"Threw up for weeks."
"You've been into bombs forever," Sam commented, and Spike nodded, grinning.
"He didn't have a girlfriend until college," Tony supplied. "He was too enthralled with his sciences. He was such a nerd."
"Really," Sam said sarcastically. "So you really are a geek?"
"With combat skills," he argued, but he was fighting a losing argument, and he knew it.
"Babycakes couldn't come?" Barry teased. "The dress looked so nice on her at the fitting."
"Oh my God," he said, and hid his face behind his nephew. Two other men came up behind him, though, and he was forgotten.
"Congrats," one of them said, and clapped both Barry and Anthony on the shoulder. "I never thought you two would tie the knot."
"Jealous," Spike crowed, and earned a slap to the back of the head.
"And you must be Sam," he said, ignoring Spike's sorry attempt to hit him back. "I'm Theo; this is Hunter."
"Hey," Hunter said.
Now that he had names, Sam could see the resemblance they bore to their sister. They had the same hair, and nose; they were tall and slender, though, while Jules and Barry were shorter.
"We're just stopping by quick," he said. "We were sitting with Sharon. But we wanted to meet the infamous Sam Braddock."
"You've got her upside down," Hunter said. "Completely head-over-heels, giggling on the phone late at night and practically peeing herself when your name is brought up during conversation."
"I haven't seen her like this since high school," Theo agreed. "Congrats, man. You've officially made our sister crazy."
"Uh," he said. "Thanks?"
"It's a good thing." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Anyway, like I said, just stopping by. Hunter's gotta go back to the airport, and I'm driving him. I'll be back, though. Where's Julianna?"
"Cake," Barry said. "Thanks for stopping by."
"Congrats again." Theo grinned and hugged them both around the neck. Then he retreated, waving, Hunter following behind him. There was a silence over the table for a moment as the rapid energy died down. Scotty, mistakenly interpreting the quiet as space that needed to be filled, started up on another ramble, this time about his favorite television programs. He was talking directly to Sam, who was trying his best to pay apt attention. Nicholas' glare had become more severe, though, and he felt it burning a hole in his cheek.
The boy continued on until the women came back with cake. He was presented with a slice, and shut up immediately. Jules sank back into her chair beside Sam and dropped a kiss onto his cheek.
"Spike," Winnie said, mouth full, and handed him her fork. "Cakegasm. Taste."
Child balanced in his arm, he leaned over and took a generous piece. Halfway through chewing, he looked over at his brother.
"This is Pops' recipe."
"The man estranged me," Anthony said. "The least he can do is be present and accounted for at my wedding, grave be damned."
"Anthony," Nora said tearfully.
He seemed to sense the need to explain, because he leaned back in his chair, his eyes flashing between Sam and Winnie. "I came out freshman year of college," he started. "Dad was pissed, said he wouldn't have someone in my state of mind as a son. Long story short: screaming, throwing of wine, all that fun stuff – and he refused to see me until I'd 'straightened out.' Elnora, flower child extraordinaire, followed me out, refusing to see Dad until he made peace with my sexuality."
"You made lasagna that night, didn't you?" Spike said, almost dreamily.
"Maybe that's why he was in such a bad mood," Barry said, and they laughed. Sam wondered how they could approach a topic like this with such ease.
"Anyway, Spike and Ma were brainwashed and therefore stayed in that household, abiding by his rules, up until he died."
"If I could go back and change that night," Spike said, but Anthony waved him off.
"You're the baby," he said. "You were too young to walk out, first. Second of all, you were already too deep to dig yourself out. You started to understand, though, right? When we came back into your life. You opened your eyes and saw that you were a disappointment to him, just like the rest of us."
"He was a," Nora said, but cut herself off. Nicholas had his eyes on Jules, and it clicked together in Sam's mind: this kid liked her. He almost laughed out loud. He had been worried, for half a second, that he had done something wrong to make the boy hate him. But it was just that they shared affections for the same woman. Of course, Sam had already claimed her as his, and Nicholas was her seven year old nephew-in-law, but still. Solidarity, brother.
"He didn't even get you a blender." Spike regarded the cake almost thoughtfully. Sam glanced over at Winnie; she was watching him with an unmasked expression of like. That stupid feeling that's more than platonic but too early to be love. The blatant ignoring of past mistakes, just because they're sorry for it. Sam had felt it so many times himself; he didn't need any more information than the look on her face.
Jules leaned against him, slightly buzzed from the champagne. She was a sleepy drunk; she could hold her own in beer, sure, but the crash could be bad. Sam had gone downstairs to get her something – tea, sweatshirt, garbage can – many times, only to find her already asleep in the bed.
She got her second wind, though, snatching the baby from Anthony when he and Barry excused themselves. The girls were huddled together, exchanging stories – Nora's husband taking her to Italy to celebrate their first pregnancy, Winnie waking up the day after their first date and finding a dozen roses waiting on her doorstep, Jules finding out that Sam snores (considerably less romantic than the others; he actually made a face and was scolded for eavesdropping). Spike twisted the stem of a cherry between his fingers, his gaze flicking between his women, smiling when they laughed out loud. And they were, actually, his women – his sister, his girlfriend, his best female friend/co-worker/sister-in-law. It was hard for Sam to wrap his mind around it.
Eventually, Spike stood up and bowed slightly, his hand extended to Winnie. Sam smirked.
"May I have this dance?" he asked. She blushed but took it, letting him pull her to her feet. Jules and Nora giggled girlishly, smiling after them as they made their way to the dance floor. Once she was out of earshot, they exploded, talking about Spike in Gilmore Girls-esque voices and, sometimes, bits of Italian. (Sam filed this away in a part of his brain; Jules speaking Italian, even just a little, was something he wanted to explore further.) Seeing her so carefree and happy, someone who could gush to her friends without getting laughs or burps or, on occasion, small explosions in return made him grin. It was strange seeing her act so feminine, but it was also a little endearing.
The sun was setting, casting a golden tint over everything. The red in Jules' hair stood out sharply, making her look even more beautiful (if possible). Sam quickly took inventory – her shoes were still on (feet didn't hurt), her plate was clean (not in the middle of eating), and she didn't seem too deeply invested in her conversation with Nora (he didn't want to be rude). He took the chance to lean over, fingers brushing across her wrist, and said, "You want to go dance?"
"Really?" She looked genuinely surprised, but also a bit skeptical. One eyebrow shot up toward her hairline. "You've known me for four years and you've never once asked me to dance with you. You're not a closet Patrick Swayze, are you? Saving all that talent for the right moment, just as the movie ends?"
He laughed and shook his head. Jules – ever polite – glanced at Nora, making sure it was okay. When she nodded and took the baby, Sam grabbed her hand, ignoring the glare Nicholas sent his way.
The first few songs were more upbeat. Somewhere across the room, Spike was the life of the party, bouncing around with Winnie in tow. Every once in a while, Sam would catch a glimpse of his head bobbing above the crowd, followed by a shock of curls.
Jules did not seem to have any inhibitions. She was dancing around in him a circle as he watched, awed. "C'mon!" she kept shouting. "Keep up!"
While he wasn't exactly a dancer himself, he didn't want to disappoint his date. He let her drag him around, trying his best to be loose and on his toes. The vulnerability of it, though, was hard to keep down. With so much energy all around, and his own heart pounding in his chest, it was his natural instinct to be on guard.
His mind said 'stay wary.' His heart said 'have fun.'
Night had fallen by the first slow song. Jules blew the hair from her face, her cheeks red and her curls askew. Sam had to stop himself from telling her how adorable she looked. Instead, he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He got lost, both in the music and in the smell of her perfume. She leaned against him and their feet moved rhythmically, almost a lullaby. Several songs passed and Sam let himself go (just for a while).
He stayed in this trance until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes; Spike and Winnie were dancing close by, Spike's arms wrapped around the girl curled into his chest. He was pointing at his watch behind her back. "We need to get going."
Jules groaned, and Sam was half-surprised. He had thought she had fallen asleep (or had been in a semi-similar, near comatose state of relaxation and drunkness). She lifted her head from his chest and sighed, all traces of her wild dancing gone. "What time is it?"
"Seven," he replied. "We've been here a really long time. I think the club wants us out, actually."
Sam glanced in the direction he had gestured. Sure enough, there were a group of nervous looking employees pacing outside the back door. Sam chucked into Jules' hair and slowly, regretfully pulled away.
Another ten minutes flashed by as Spike and Jules said goodbye to family members and old friends. Mrs. Scarlatti pulled all four of them into her arms, tearfully blessing them in Italian, until her son said "Ma. Ma. We gotta go." Finally, they were released.
They found Barry and Anthony back on the dance floor. Barry actually looked like he was falling asleep – sleepy like his sister – but Anthony kept making sudden movements and laughing when he blinked awake.
"Stop messing with my brother," Jules said, and opened her arms wide. Anthony leaned awkwardly into her embrace, taking Barry with him. "We have a long way back."
"Don't be a stranger," he said, and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Jules' brother grabbed her wrist and pressed it to her lips before letting her step back.
"You," he said, and pointed a lazy hand at Sam over Tony's shoulder. "If you screw with my sister, I will personally find and castrate you, and then keep those suckers in a mason jar on the mantle."
Sam furrowed his brow, unsure exactly what he was supposed to say, but Barry burst out of laughing. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. "No but seriously. Don't hurt her or she will hurt you."
"And same goes for you," Anthony said to Spike, and grinned. "You never mess with the dispatcher, man. Just like you never mess with the waiter. She will spit in your food."
"I will keep that in mind," he said, and gave them both a hug before dropping his arm back around Winnie's waist and pulling her against him.
"It was nice meeting you," she said.
"You, too," Tony said. "Also, my brother is really ticklish on his feet. But be warned: he will kick you. A lot. In the face."
"Truth," Jules supplied, and Sam raised an eyebrow at her.
Five minutes later, they were back in the car. Nobody had bothered to change. Spike had remained drink-free, and therefore was back in the driver's seat. It was pre-planned, without discussion; Winnie slid back into the passenger seat, leaving Sam and Jules their own little slice of the world.
The drive home seemed so much faster than the time it took to get there. He wasn't sure if it was retracing their steps (and some part of them knowing the way back) or because he kept dozing in and out of consciousness, Jules asleep across his lap. In front, Winnie was curled in her seat, breathing evenly, her fingers intertwined with Spike's.
They stopped, and Sam opened his eyes. They were in a neighborhood that seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. Spike was leaning over the center counsel, whispering in Winnie's ear to wake up. She stirred quietly and stretched her arms above her head.
Spike jumped out of the car, jogging around the front to open her door. Sam watched them walk up the driveway to her patio, where they talked under the porch light for a few minutes, standing close. He only looked away when Jules sat up next to him.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all this sooner," she said, her voice tired. "I know it was a lot to absorb all in one day. I just had this irrational fear that it was too good to be true. After my brother died, I was… scared. That more people would leave me behind."
"I would never," he whispered to her, and tugged her close. She was so strong, so confident with herself – admitting to being human, that was a big step for her. For them. Being there, letting her indulge her secrets to him, made him feel like he was finally being let in, one hundred percent, crazy, messed up, semi-Italian family and all.
I like to think that this was the reason he was able to say "I love you" in PoL. I don't know. The idea for this first came to me because I was, as you guys know, infatuated with the idea of Spike and Jules as bffs. Then I started wondering why Jules went all psycho defensive in The War Within, and my mind combined the two and created this. I tried to find a beta, but nobody was willing, so I hope it doesn't suck too much. (On that note, if you're interested in beta'ing any of my future fics - please let me know! My inbox closes by itself sometimes, which is massively annoying, so I'm sorry about that.)
Sam is very difficult for me to write. I had a hard time getting inside his head, so I hope that I didn't get him to OOC. This is the longest fic I've ever written, so it kind of scared and messed me up and I might have made some mistakes. I'm sorry if that's the case.
Anyway, enjoy! I hope this makes tomorrow's finale (in Canada, at least) a little bit easier to bear through! &hearts