Quil adjusted his suit, no longer able to deny the nerves swirling about inside him. It was like they had led a hostile takeover, creeping up on him so slowly that he didn't even notice them until it was too late to do anything about it. His fingers played with one of the wolf-shaped cufflinks Claire had picked out for the bridal party, insisting that the ceremony wouldn't feel right without some small nod to his heritage. He had been touched by the gesture. He and a few of the others had stopped shifting a few years back, not seeing the need to continue after the Cullens' departure, but it had been a large part in his life and, by extension, hers.
He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop. Looking up, he smiled at the sight of the second-hand car Claire had bought for her twentieth birthday. As he waited, the doors opened, and Claire, her mother, and the bridesmaids all spilled out of the tiny space.
Claire was beautiful, wearing a simple white dress and a smile that shone as brightly as the sun. Her hair was pulled into a long braid that was interwoven with lilies and violets. And he was so, so proud of her. Watching her grow from a stubborn toddler with an affinity for the word 'no' into the curious, caring young woman in front of him had been a blessing and a privilege. He had been there to witness her biggest moments, good and terrible, from her first day at school to her college graduation to her first breakup to the day her father died.
"Quil," she said when she caught sight of him, her smile widening even further. She made her way over to where he stood at the door, the rest of her side of the bridal party following close behind her. "You look fantastic."
"You're one to talk; you look stunning." Quil pulled her into a warm hug that she returned eagerly. When he was a teenager, he had imagined imprinting on a girl his age and falling madly in love with her. As it turned out, neither of those things had happened; instead of a wife, his imprinting had brought him to someone who fell somewhere in the sister/niece/goddaughter category. While he felt a sense of loss at times, as if all his friends had moved on while he was standing still, his life so focused on Claire that he didn't have time to date much, he couldn't regret it. He felt honoured to be such a big part of her life.
"I hope so," she said wryly. "It took long enough to get ready."
She shifted, her expression hesitant. "I – I just wanted to say thank you," she said, sounding as uncomfortable as she always did when it came to verbalising feelings. "I wish Dad were here, but… but it means a lot to me that you agreed to stand in for him today."
"Of course."
As Quil and Claire separated, her mother, Jenny, approached, giving them both quick once-overs. "I should go inside before the ceremony starts," she said. "Or before I start crying. But you all look perfect. Sweetheart, your father would be so proud of you. He always was."
"I remember." Claire reached out and squeezed her mother's hand. They stood there for a moment, smiling sadly at one another, before Jenny stepped back and slipped away into the large church to make sure everything was ready inside.
"Nervous?" Lily, Claire's maid of honour, asked as she handed her the bouquet.
"Not even slightly. We've done all we can; from here, it's just enjoying it."
"Good," Lily replied, "because it's time."
The group stepped into line, and Claire slipped her arm through Quil's. "Then let's do this," she said.
-x-
Quil smiled as Claire and Terry, now her husband, hugged him in turn before sitting down in the empty seats next to him. As far as he was aware, neither of them had stopped beaming since they exchanged their vows a few hours earlier. They looked tired and windswept but were still clearly overflowing with joy and happiness. The reception was in full swing, and other than his initial brief but heartfelt congratulations, he was doing his best to keep out of their way. They had enough to see to and enjoy without him interrupting them, especially since he would probably just end up saying things that either had already been said or could wait until after the honeymoon.
"I wanted to thank you again for being there for me over the years," Claire said, slurring slightly like she always did when she'd had anything more than one glass of wine. "Every time I stumbled, you were there to help me up again. Every time I tried to fly, you were there to cheer me on. It has really meant a lot to me – to all of us."
"Thank you for letting me," Quil replied, wondering how long it had taken Claire to work herself up to saying all of that. To him, it was genuinely no big deal. That was how imprinting worked, after all; he didn't have much of a choice when it came to wanting the best for Claire. She, however, had always had a choice regarding whether or not to let him stick around.
The three of them sat there quietly for a few seconds, smiling at one another as they listened to the sound of music and laughter drifting over from the dancefloor and the other tables. Then, Terry glanced at something over Quil's shoulder and grinned, and the silence broke.
"Hey, have you met my aunt, Taylor?" he asked.
Quil furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the sudden change of subject. "No," he replied, drawing out the word. "Should I have?"
"It's not so much that you should have than that you should," Claire said. "She's really very lovely."
"Are you trying to set me up?" Not for the first time, Quil was relieved that he no longer shapeshifted. He did not want any of his friends seeing this moment; they would mock him for it without remorse.
Claire shook her head, although her cheeks tinged pink at the accusation. "No! Well, sort of. Not exactly. I know that you never dated much because of… well, because you were busy looking after me. And Taylor is really awesome. But we don't care if you date or don't date; we just think you would get along."
Quil glanced over at Terry, but he didn't seem to have noticed how she stumbled over the words. After much arguing and debate, the Elders had given Claire permission to tell him about the pack on the condition that she kept it to the bare minimum. As it was, he knew about the werewolves and the vampires, although he didn't know any by name, and he was aware that there was some kind of mystical bond between Quil and Claire, although he didn't know that it usually manifested romantically. Since that wasn't the case for the pair, everyone had decided that it was better to spare him the knowledge. For the most part, the compromise was working well. The only issue was when the topic of why Quil hadn't settled down – namely, that he hadn't wanted to risk putting himself into Sam, Emily and Leah's position – came up.
"I suppose there's no harm in having a chat," he said. Now that Claire was married and working full-time, she wouldn't be able to spend as much time at La Push, meaning that she wouldn't need him as often. For the first time since he first met her, he might actually have both the time and energy for a relationship.
-x-
When he looked back on that night in the years to come, he was surprised by how ordinary it all seemed. When he finally gave in and went over to meet Taylor Marks, nothing changed. The world didn't shift. His heart didn't stutter. The strings didn't change. But her eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling, and she cracked a joke that made him laugh so hard his whole body reverberated. So he sat down, and they started talking about their jobs and their lives, and before he knew it, Jenny was calling out that it was time for the last song and Taylor was pulling him onto the dancefloor and he was smiling because while he didn't know how to dance, he wanted to try.
It was nothing extraordinary or supernatural. But it was perfect. And when Quil and Taylor stepped out to dance at their own wedding just two short years later, Claire and Terry met their eyes, and they all smiled.
A/N: I really wanted Taylor to be a canon character but couldn't bear to break up Angela and Ben, so she's the younger sister of Austin and the guy Bella bought the motorcycles from.