A/N: Just some wedding fluff as a follow-up to January Wedding. Yay, fluff!
At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
It's four in the morning on January fifth, and Rachel can't sleep. In exactly twelve hours, she will be walking down the aisle in a vintage gown that fits her like a dream, surrounded by her friends and family as she heads toward her best friend, her lover, and her soul mate, to pledge her adoration and commitment for the rest of their lives.
And she is terrified.
They've lived together for five years, and have been in a serious relationship for even longer, so it's not like she's afraid to stand up in front of two hundred people and say that she loves Quinn Fabray and wants to spend the rest of her life with her. She will shout it from the rooftops. She will rent out a billboard in Times Square (she actually tried to do that once, but Quinn is just a big wet blanket sometimes). She doesn't have cold feed. Not really, anyway. She has no doubt that Quinn is the only girl for her, and she fully intends to grow old with that woman.
It's just that now, all of a sudden, the idea of two hundred guests and a string quartet and a vintage wedding gown and a rabbi and a Presbyterian minister and a vegan chocolate fountain…it all makes her feel sort of nauseated. Now she just wants run to city hall, get it over with, and then flee the country with her wife.
For the first time in her life, Rachel Berry has stage fright.
She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and dreaming up a million scenarios that all end with the whole day being called off, until her alarm clock finally buzzes at a quarter to six. It's earlier than she really needs to be awake, but she couldn't possibly
Brittany convinced them that it was bad luck for the bride to see the bride before the ceremony, and so it was decided early on that Quinn would stay the night at Brittany and Santana's apartment on the night before the wedding. Rachel didn't really love the idea of spending most of their wedding day apart, but she could appreciate the tradition. What she could not appreciate, however, was Quinn's insistence that Santana stay the night in their apartment while Quinn stayed with Brittany.
"I don't need a babysitter," Rachel had snapped, when it had first been suggested to her.
"No, but you also don't need to be left to your own devices on the night before our wedding," Quinn replied. "Think of it as a sleepover. It will be fun."
That is why Santana Lopez is stomping out of their guest room at seven in the morning, mumbling something about throwing herself off the roof of the building if she doesn't have coffee in three seconds. Rachel makes a mental note to remind Quinn that this is not her idea of fun, before handing Santana a cup of coffee that she had prepared as soon as she heard her alarm go off.
Santana takes the cup without a word and then begins rifling through the cabinets. "Q gave me strict instructions to make sure you eat something," she says. "and while I would normally not give one single fuck what Q instructs me to do, I don't want you to faint at the altar."
"Aww," Rachel coos, smiling sweetly. "You care about my wellbeing."
Santana scoffs and throws a granola bar at Rachel, before sitting down at the kitchen island. "No, I care about you messing up my hair if you land on me."
Rachel rolls her eyes and plops on a bar stool next to Santana, just as a low buzz alerts her to a text message. She sees Quinn's name flash across the screen, and even though they agreed to limit communication until the ceremony, she can't stop herself from checking the message. However, Santana quickly bats her hand away and holds the phone high above Rachel's head.
"Not a chance, squirt," she says, hopping up and putting a safe amount of distance between them. She looks down at the screen, and then her face scrunches in disgust. "S, since you've probably stolen Rachel's phone by this point, tell her that I love her more than anything, and that I can't wait to see her today and every day for the rest of our lives," she reads aloud.
Rachel smiles into her coffee mug. "Tell her that I…"
"I've got this," Santana snaps, quickly firing off a reply and then showing the sent message to Rachel.
She loves you too. Where do you keep your cleaning supplies? Because now I need to bleach my brain…save that shit for the wedding night, you sap.
–––––
"I can't do this," Rachel says breathlessly. "Santana, I can't do this."
It's an hour before the ceremony, and in true Rachel Berry fashion, they are ready to walk down the aisle far ahead of schedule. There is nothing to do now but wait, and in Rachel's case, dwell on the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Santana looks rather unimpressed when she glances up from her magazine. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, this is a horrible idea. Why am I doing this?"
"Because you love her, Berry," Santana says, flinging her magazine onto the couch and standing up with a sigh. When Rachel paces past her, Santana grabs her shoulders and grips them tightly. "You love her."
Rachel's eyes grow wide, and then she suddenly relaxes in Santana's grip. "I love her," she whispers. "You're right. Of course. I apologize that you had to witness this momentary lapse in judgment. I love her. Okay. Everything is fine. This is going to be great. It's going to be great, right?" She lets out a forced laughed. "Of course it's going to be great."
"You need to relax. Like, now," Santana says. She strides across the room and pours a glass of champagne. "Drink this."
"Santana, I really don't think I could handle…"
"Drink it," she says firmly, shoving the flute into Rachel's hand and then guiding her to an overstuffed sofa. She sits down next to the smaller brunette and angles her body toward her. "She worships you, you know?"
Rachel looks up at her curiously.
"Only God knows why," Santana continues. "But the way she looks at you…it's like you hung the moon. It's sickening, really. You're her entire world."
A blush spreads across Rachel's face and her eyes well up with tears, which she quickly dabs away, for fear of ruining her makeup. "I really do love her. More than anything."
"I know," Santana says with an almost-smile. "So don't fuck this up."
"I won't," Rachel says, relaxing into the cushion of the couch. "Thanks, Santana."
"Just doing my job," Santana replies with a smirk. "But seriously, drink that, because I'm going to punch you in the face if you freak out again."
–––––
Rachel is standing in front of a heavy wooden door, with one of her fathers on each side of her. Quinn walked in first, before Rachel was allowed into the lobby, and then Brittany and Santana. She has barely thirty seconds before her cue to enter, and she has never been so nervous in her entire life. Her Daddy kisses her on the cheek and smiles sweetly, and she can tell that he is on the verge of tears.
"Oh, Daddy, don't," she says with a watery laugh. "If you start, then I'll start."
"I just can't believe my baby girl is about to get married," Leroy sniffles. "You look beautiful. Hiram, doesn't she look beautiful?"
"You're a vision, darling," Hiram says fondly, gently touching her perfectly styled hair.
A familiar score fills the room, and Rachel stiffens slightly, looking quickly between both of her fathers. They both smile at her and then take an arm as the door opens, revealing the beautifully decorated wedding hall. She takes a deep breath, and then steps forward as the crowd rises to their feet.
She's fairly certain that her feet would be stuck to the ground if it weren't for the love of her life waiting for her at the end of an ivory aisle runner.
–––––
They're standing in the middle of the dance floor, their bodies pressed so close together that they can nearly feel each other's heartbeats. The room is dark and quiet as their guests watch them intently. At least, Rachel assumes that their guests are watching them intently; she hasn't taken her eyes off of Quinn in hours.
Quinn is whispering sweetly in her ear, telling her how much she loves her, how much she needs her, and how thrilled she is that they are here. It's times like this that Rachel wonders how in the world they got here, the head cheerleader and the lowest specimen on the McKinley High food chain, and she wants to know how she can stay in this moment forever; she would do anything.
The first notes of music begin to play, and Rachel smiles and rests her head on Quinn's shoulder. Her hand slips down to the small of Rachel's back, and they sway back and forth slowly. Rachel dragged them to dance classes specifically for this occasion, but the entire routine has gone out the window and they don't even care.
"Was today everything you had hoped it would be?" Quinn asks, pulling back a bit to look Rachel in the eyes.
"I was so nervous," she admits, ducking her head in embarrassment.
"I know, baby," Quinn says with a laugh. "Santana called me about twenty times. How else would she know to quiz you on Barbra Streisand facts to distract you from the fact that the cake was two hours late?"
"Oh," Rachel says. That does make sense. "Next time we get married, let's spend the whole day together, okay? It would have been better easier if you were with me."
"Well, at least we're together now. It's just you and me, babe."
Rachel lets out a gentle sigh and pulls Quinn close. It's just you and me, she repeats to herself. It's just them, together. At last.