"My parents are picking us up," she grumbles.
"You want the rest of my peanuts?" I ask, barely thinking.
"I'm allergic to peanuts!" she exclaims, as if instead I offered her a hot knife to sear through her skin.
As the plane begins its descent, I silently pick up the little container of peanuts and place it in the hand opposite her. I swear I knew she was allergic. I've always known that. But the last handful of hours have been a blur, and I don't know up from down right now, let alone my brand new wife's allergies.
I shouldn't have offered the peanuts, I realize. But she also shouldn't have said a handful of things that just came out of her mouth. We're both tired; we've been going nonstop since the elopement, having barely been back home before we jetted off to Ohio per her request. I'm happy to go, but I'm not happy to play pastor whenever she calls upon me to.
"Couldn't have said something before?" I mutter, setting the little bowl on a stewardess' tray as she passes by. "Wouldn't have had them there at all."
"They were fine. It's only if I eat them."
"Yeah, I know."
"Yet you still had them?"
"You didn't say… urgh. April."
She stays facing forward, a stony expression on her face. I know I won't get through to her now, which pisses me off. She can be so goddamn stubborn, but so can I. She has no basis to be angry. I told her I didn't plan on changing who I was, and a handful of hours ago she was happy about that fact. But suddenly, when it doesn't go according to plan, it doesn't sit right with her.
But we can't talk about it now, because I can feel an imminent fight coming on. There's no time for that. At the moment, we need to paint our smiles on because it's imperative to show her parents that the rash choice we made was the right one. There can't be any room for doubt - not for them, and definitely not for us.
We don't speak as the plane hits the tarmac or when it comes to a stop. When it's time to deboard, I extend my hand for hers and she takes it, which gives me a bit of comfort. Even though I'm frustrated with her, it's not like I enjoy it. She's my wife now, we're married, fights are to be expected. I guess I just didn't expect one this soon.
"Thanks," she says, then meets my eyes quickly.
"Yeah." I notice my charger plugged into the wall by the window and nod towards it. "Can you grab that for me, babe?"
She turns around and pulls it out, then slips it into her purse. "I got it," she says.
"Alright."
We head off the plane and into the airport, in search of baggage claim first. I keep one hand on the small of April's back and she walks close to me - so close, I can smell her subtle perfume. It's enchanting, that's for sure. I need to figure out what brand it is.
We grab our bags and roll them behind us as we find our way to where they said they'd meet us. I'm a little nervous, my stomach is a little jumpy, because this is the first time I'm meeting Karen and Joe Kepner as not only a romantic interest, but their daughter's husband. It's anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and the fact that we're fighting doesn't make matters any easier.
"We can talk later," she says under her breath, one arm entwined around mine. "But for right now, can we just put on a happy face for them?"
"I figured as much," I say.
"Okay," she agrees. "Are you nervous?"
"As hell."
She grins softly and strokes my skin over the sleeve of my sweater. "Don't be. They're just people."
"They're my wife's parents," he says. "My wife, who ran away from her fiance after I stood up at her wedding that cost her parents thousands of dollars."
"We already talked about the money," she says, and she's right. We're going to pay them back - I told her I could easily do it in one fell swoop, but she insisted on monthly payments. Budgetary, as usual.
"Right, I know."
"And as for the rest…" She sighs, then looks up at me wearing a content expression. "We're in love. If they understand anything, it'll be that."
I kiss her temple as we stroll through the airport, and try to ignore my sweaty hands as we get closer and closer to her parents. By the time we see them in the distance, I've had to wipe my palms on my jeans more times than I'd like to admit.
I'm an Avery. I don't get nervous.
Except when it comes to the woman I love.
Karen Kepner is all smiles as we approach, but Joe can't say the same. His expression isn't angry, but it's very placid. I couldn't read him if my life depended on it.
"Hi, honey," Karen says, extending her arms for April, who lets go of my hand and falls into them. "It's good to see you again."
"You, too, mama," April says, voice muffled by Karen's equally-as-fiery hair.
She hugs her father, too, and I stay back - stiff-backed and cautious. I'm not sure what the next step is for me. Suddenly every polite interaction I've been forced to have in my life has been forgotten, and I'm rendered mute standing in front of my in-laws.
"Are you going to introduce us to your husband, April?" Karen asks, a bit of a clip in her tone.
"Oh," April says, then holds my arm with both hands. "Mom, Dad, this is Jackson. Jackson, these are my parents, Karen and Joe."
"Welcome to Ohio," Karen says, eyeing me. "And welcome to the family."
I give her a small smile. "Thank you," I say. I open my mouth and fumble for words, which is something I never do. "And uh… I am sorry for how things went down. I never meant for…" I clear my throat. "I hadn't planned for…" My voice trails off again, and I frown. "I love your daughter very much. I don't regret what I… I did, but I do apologize for how I went about it."
"Thank you," Karen says, visibly surprised that I jumped into the topic so soon. I had wanted to do it right off the bat and leave no room for them to assume anything. When room is left for assumptions, only bad things happen. "That means a lot to us."
Joe is still icy, though, and I expected as much. He's an old-fashioned guy from the countryside with old-fashioned values. He raised a beautiful, brilliant, stubborn-as-hell daughter, though - so I'd like to think the best of him.
"A request for her hand would've been nice," he grunts, arms crossed as he stares me down.
"I… yeah," I say, scratching my nose nervously.
April's arm snakes around the small of my back, and I'm comforted by the action. She keeps a good, subtle hold on me and looks at her parents with intensity.
"Daddy," she says, voice stern. "You can't condemn him for what he did. He apologized for how he went about it. But he loves me." She looks up at me with shining eyes, and the fight from earlier is momentarily wiped from my brain. "And I love him. Shouldn't that be what matters?"
Joe is quiet for a long moment, studying the both of us. "I appreciate the apology," he says. "But I need time to get used to this."
"That's fine," Karen says, cutting in. "Let's finish this up at home, then, shall we? If we stay at this airport any longer, we'll have to start paying rent."
…
The night is disjointed and forced, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I don't feel instantly comfortable at the Kepners' farmhouse; I feel totally out-of-place and I stick out like a sore thumb. I've never known a life like this, and April falls back into her old shoes like no time has passed at all.
She helps her mother in the kitchen during dinner while Joe and I sit, not speaking, out on the front porch. He rocks in the rocking chair and stares out at the pasture, and I resist the urge to get out my phone. I don't want to make it seem like I've given up entirely.
Just as I've begun to smell dinner coming from inside, he speaks. It almost startles me, the air has become that quiet.
"So, you love her, huh," he says, chair creaking as he continues to rock.
"Yes, sir," I say, digging out the formalities as a safeguard. I can't be too careful. "Very much."
"Hmm," he grunts, without looking over. "Just out of the blue like that, then? Just up and decided that you love her and that you'd ruin the wedding that us and the Taylors worked on putting together for so damn long."
His words sting. I can't deny that. I know what I didn't wasn't necessarily right - but not doing it would've been so, so wrong. I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't stand up and tell her how I felt. Sure, I had an opportunity beforehand, but my thoughts have a way of staying foggy until the last possible moment. It's far from convenient.
"I'm sorry about that," I say. "I am. Truly. I understand your frustration, but I also need you to understand that my love for your daughter is far from undeveloped or new. I've loved her… I've loved her forever, it feels like."
His eyebrows quirk dubiously as he looks over. He thinks I'm spewing shit. That's fine; I'll keep talking.
"We transferred over from Mercy West together," I begin. "Our old hospital, to Grey Sloan. Back then, it was called Seattle Grace. We were the new kids, and no one liked us. But after the shooting, it was different. People looked at us different. We were different. She was the only person I trusted for a long, long time. She knew how to take care of me, and I let her. I wouldn't let anyone else get near me, but I'd let her hold me and rock me like a goddamn child after the nightmares I had."
I clench my teeth and close my eyes for a moment. I don't like to go back to the shooting. Nothing good came of it, besides the strengthening of my bond with April. She really was my saving grace back then, and still is. For much different reasons.
"We made mistakes together," I say. "We didn't communicate. We still have a hard time with that, but we'll work on it. My love for her changed, and I started to see her differently. She was more than just my best friend, or at least I wanted her to be. She had a hard time with that, and we were up and down for years."
I take a deep breath. Reliving this isn't as easy as I imagined it would be, but it's forcing me to realize just how much we've been through together.
"When Matthew proposed, I thought it was the best option for her. He was just like her, had all the same values. He'd treat her right. I thought it'd be easier for me to let her go, and I forced myself to. Or at least, I tried. I really tried. But when I saw her standing up there in that white dress next to the man who barely knew her, I couldn't do it. Have you ever felt like that? Like you know you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't stand up and say something?"
He doesn't respond. He doesn't need to.
"So, I had to. Because of advice I got from someone very important to me - if you love someone, you tell them. Even if…"
I can't say the whole thing, though it's a phrase I'll never forget. I can't say it, because I'll hear Mark's voice and that's just not something I'm ready for.
"You say it loud and you go from there," I say, amending it. "And that's what I did. I'm so in love with her, that sometimes I can't believe it. I can't wrap my head around it. She's so perfect. I wake up and see her next to me, just sleeping, and I'm amazed. It's the stupid, little things… I just… I don't know. I fall more in love with her every second. And you might not believe me, you might think I'm just blowing hot air, but I'm not. I need you to understand how deeply I care for your daughter. She is my best friend, my favorite person. She is my wife. And I hope you'll approve, because it means a lot to her. But with all due respect, sir, no matter what you think - we're married. And we're going to stay that way."
After a bunch of clanging in the kitchen and laughter to follow, Karen's voice sounds through the window. "Time for dinner!" she calls.
Joe stands first, and I watch. As he passes my chair, he looks over his shoulder and nods me forward with a jerk of his head. "Time to eat," he says. "Come in for dinner, son."
…
After we finish eating, the house is quiet as none of April's sisters live at home anymore and were all busy with their respective lives. The four of us sit on the porch in somewhat comfortable silence, but all I want to do is get some alone-time with April so we can talk about what happened earlier. Also, so I can tell her about the speech I made to her dad.
"We eloped in Lake Tahoe," she says, and I tune in mid-conversation. "I got my wedding dress from a thrift store. Just like Aunt Janice did, remember?"
Karen smiles fondly. "I do," she says.
"We have pictures," she says. "I can show you."
She pulls out her phone and brings up the album as I watch from a few feet away. Karen flips through with a soft look in her eyes, then turns the phone around to show a specific photo to April.
"I like this one," she says. It's from the night we got married - I have her in my arms bridal style with a big-ass smile on my face. She has her head thrown back in laughter, completely carefree. I can't remember who snapped that picture.
Karen is about to flip to the next one, but April snatches the phone before she can. "Oh, that's the end of them," she says, hurriedly closing out of the camera roll with a bright pink flush painted on her cheeks.
I chuckle to myself. I know exactly what photo comes next - and unless Karen wants to become familiar with what I'm packing, she should be thankful April grabbed the phone from her.
"I'm glad you two are so happy," Karen says, and my gut twists a bit. I can't help but remember the conversation we had earlier on the plane - where April had insinuated that we did this too fast, that we didn't think it through enough. I had asked her point-blank if she regretted it and she said no, but I still want to make sure. We really do need to talk. I don't like the feeling of unsettlement between us. "Joe, did you and Jackson clear the air earlier?" Karen asks her husband.
Being the man of few words that he is, Joe only nods. But it's enough for me.
April stands and hugs her mother, then kisses her father on the cheek. "We've had a long day," she says. "Are you tired?" she asks me. "Mom set up my old room for us."
"I am pretty beat, yeah," I say, standing up to stretch. "Thank you for dinner, Karen. And Joe, thank you for welcoming me into your home."
Joe gives me a jerk of the head, and Karen smiles before standing to give me a kiss on the cheek. After we bid them goodnight, April and I make our way to the quiet upstairs where we'll be the only ones sleeping tonight. There are three other bedrooms up here, one for each of April's sisters, and the master bedroom is on the first floor.
We go through our bedtime routine quietly, without exchanging much conversation. We work around each other comfortably, like always. It's not until we're both in pajamas, faces washed, teeth brushed, and inside the bedroom for the night that I know it has to be brought up.
"So, you talked to my dad?" she asks, combing her hair. It always shines when she does this at night, sitting at the edge of the bed. We haven't spent a huge number of nights together yet, but this is something I know I'll continue to enjoy. I like her little routines.
"Yeah," I say, sitting on the bed, too. It's not big and it's covered in a pink duvet, which I think is cute. This whole room looks frozen in time - light pink walls, frilly curtains, medals and trophies on the wall from past academic competitions.
"How did it go?"
I shrug. "I told him everything. It was the only way to make him understand. I just needed him to know how much I love you."
She's quiet for a moment. The only sound in the room is the brush running through her hair. "Did you tell him about what happened at the boards?" she asks, sounding worried.
"I didn't go in detail," I say. "I just said what needed to be said."
I sigh, and she continues to brush. I can feel the conversation about to start, so I might as well get it over with.
"I know you have a peanut allergy," I say. "I know that."
"I know you know," she says.
"Everything has just been so crazy lately," I say. "With running away, hiding from everyone, the thought of your parents probably hating me, I don't know. It slipped my mind, but it shouldn't have. And I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," she says, and sets the brush down. "I shouldn't have asked you to lead us in prayer. I'm not asking you to pray at all."
Come to think of it, she didn't during dinner earlier. I didn't realize then, but now I do. I had closed my eyes, but didn't do any active praying. That was good enough.
"I stick by what I said in that secondhand shop," she says. "I'm not asking you to change who you are."
"And I'm not asking you to, either," I say.
"I know," she says. "And that's why it wasn't fair of me. I was grasping for straws, until I realized I didn't need to. You don't… I don't need to ask you to lie so my parents will like you. They'll like you on their own, and they did. And if they didn't… well, that would've been fine, too. 'Cause I like you enough for the both of them."
"Sometimes," I say, chuckling.
"Most of the time," she says, smiling.
"It's kind of impossible not to like me," I say. "I got it all. Looks, brains, brawn, you name it."
"I'm starting to like you a little less now," she says, then flops onto her back.
"Lies," I say, then crawl on my hands and knees to overlap her body with my own.
"Nope," she says. "Because I don't like you. I love you."
I roll my eyes, but can't help my smile. "Cheesy ass," I say.
She holds my face in her hands and looks at me with earnest. "For better or for worse," she says. "We promised. And it's gonna be like that forever. Right?"
"We're forever," I say, then dip my head to kiss her slowly. "It's kind of crazy. Because even when we're fighting, you're pissed at me or I'm pissed at you, I still like you. I still look at you and wonder how the hell I got so lucky. Like, we did this. We got married."
She giggles, closes her eyes, and kisses me again. She keeps a soft grip on my head and twines her legs around mine, pressing her body as close as possible.
"Baby," she says, sounding blissed out and happy. "We're married."