Scenes from a Marriage

~1~

The ink is barely dry on their marriage license before they have their first argument.

"Mrs. Sheridan Crane-Lopez-Fitzgerald? I thought…"

Sheridan arches a slim brow in challenge at her husband (her husband, her subconscious dreamily sighs), and waits for him to continue, calmly prompting, "Yes, Luis?" She draws out the beloved name, admiring her ring on his finger as he rakes a slightly agitated hand through his hair, and suppresses the giddy smile that threatens to burst free (he's her husband), even now, when she clearly sees that familiar spark of stubbornness flaring to life in his deep brown orbs, when a confused frown steals away his smile and he can't stop himself from blurting out the question she's been preparing herself for the entire day.

"Crane-Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

Sheridan shrugs, thinks of family and miracles (she still can't believe her brother had given her away) and never forgetting her roots, and she speaks from her heart as she tells him, more comfortable now, somehow, than she's ever been in her own skin, "For better or worse, Luis, there'll always be a part of me that's a Crane. I think our children should know the whole me, like you do."

Luis softens at the mention of their (theoretical) children, and his big hands wrap around her waist, so dark against the pure white of her shimmering gown, and he pulls her close, so close he can feel the gossamer flutter of her eyelashes against his face as she presses equally close to him. He pulls his head back, to gaze into eyes of glittering blue, and it feels like the sun is smiling at him through those wondrous eyes, and he can't help but smile back, especially when a thought occurs to him that he can't let go unvoiced. "And I thought Lopez-Fitzgerald was long."

Chagrined, Sheridan lowers her head to hide the pink of her cheeks, and before she knows it she is giggling, softly, into his chest. "Okay," she relents, "We won't subject our kids to the longest hyphenated name in Harmony history." Sobering, she lifts her head, one of Luis's hands now in her hair, and reaffirms a wish she hadn't realized she'd held before this day of wonder. "I want them to know who they are, every part of them, and to appreciate what a miracle it was that their parents fell in love with each other."

"You sound like a Hallmark card," Luis gently teases, cupping her jaw with his hand and tugging her forward to brush his mouth against her own, even as she laughs at the apt description of her unexpected outpouring of emotion. Luis rocks back on his heels to look at her, boyish hope shining in his eyes as he lets them travel where they will, from her golden curls, the graceful curve of her bare shoulder, the diamond sparkling star-like on her finger, to the place where he someday hopes she'll carry and nurture their child, and shyly he gives her the first hint of one of his most fervent dreams, "All this talk of children. Is there something you should tell me?"

Sheridan's smile is equally coy, but she shakes her head, outlining the corners of his mouth with her fingers before kissing him and murmuring in the space between them when they part, "Not yet."

Luis kisses her brow, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, as he grasps her hands in his own, threading and lacing their fingers together tightly. "We can get an early start," he breathes, even as he hears the nearby approach of footsteps, "skip the reception."

Sheridan catches sight of a familiar figure over his shoulder, and her blue eyes dance as she says, "You'd disappoint your sister that way?"

Luis graces Sheridan with a slow grin. "I'm sure Theresa would understand. She's always wanted to be an aunt. Right, Sis?" He delights in the way Sheridan curls into him (he can't wait to discover and catalog all the different ways he can make her turn that pretty shade of pink) as he turns them around to face his kid sister, and he feels just the slightest bit of remorse at the mixture of embarrassment and heady anticipation at war with each other on his sister's features. He takes pity on her (and his bride) and transforms himself back into the responsible older brother she grew up with, the one who wouldn't dream of committing such an impetuous act as skipping his own wedding reception in favor of starting his honeymoon early, and looks at her expectantly.

Smiling slightly, Theresa reminds them both, all without meeting their eyes directly, "Everybody's getting a little anxious to get the party started. Hank's trying out his speech on anyone that'll listen." Her lips pursing, her dark eyes holding just a hint of humor, she continues, "Mama sent me to get you two before he has a chance to tell it to Father Lonagin. She thinks some of it might be a little, uh, inappropriate."

Luis groans and loosens his arm from Sheridan's waist to cover his eyes.

"That's not all," Theresa giggles. "He keeps insisting to Gwen that it's a tradition that the maid of honor and the best man hook up. I think she's running out of hiding places."

Sheridan stifles a laugh at her friend's expense. "Poor Gwen."

"So…" Theresa gestures animatedly with her hands, "as much as I wouldn't mind being called Aunt Theresa, can it wait?" She finds she can't look at them, and it's awkward and uncomfortable and all the other words associated with the feeling, and she semi-pleads, "Do you know how hard I worked on making this reception the best?"

"You said the same thing about the wedding," Luis smirks, but the expression falls away when Sheridan pinches his side, hard.

Sheridan speaks up, her words the balm that puts her new sister-in-law at ease. "You go ahead of us, tell them we're coming."

Luis agrees. "Just a few more minutes." When Theresa looks at them both skeptically, he can't help but sigh, "One, two tops."

"Okay," Theresa concedes. "But if I don't see your smiling faces by then," she warns.

"Understood," Luis cuts her off with a nod. His lips twitching with a grin, he vows, "This won't take long." He watches her go, and when they are alone again, he snags his brand-new bride by the waist and hauls her close when it seems like she's intent on following in Theresa's footsteps, "Whoa. Where do you think you're going?"

"Luis," Sheridan squirms within his arms before he gentles her with his persuasive hands and she melts against him, her hands braced against his strong shoulders, "You heard your sister. We can't keep them waiting forever."

"Somebody has to go rescue Gwen," Luis smiles.

"Or Hank from himself," Sheridan quips, her fingers sliding into his hair when he molds himself against her and gives her a kiss that melts her insides. "Luis," she whimpers slightly in protest when his lips leave hers to fasten onto her sensitive neck, "you heard Theresa."

Finally, Luis breaks away from her, but it is with great reluctance. His gaze is serious, his words even more so, as he looks at their joined hands, their matching bands of gold, and breathes, as if only just realizing the truth of this day, "We have the rest of our lives. One little reception isn't much to suffer through."

"No," Sheridan's giddy smile is back, permanent it seems, as she takes his hand and lets him lead her toward their friends and family, the new life that awaits them, "it isn't."

I do not own Passions or the characters therein.