Yeah, it's probably too soon, but meh. These chapters won't be in chronological order, and they won't be as frequent (pfft though I say that now). Anyway, hope you enjoy x

Chapter One

'Hey.'

He watched her gaze lift in the reflection of the mirror. She smiled shyly. His breath caught somewhere in his chest, and he stared at her, feeling stunned, feeling as though he needed a comprehensive explanation as to how and why she'd agreed to this – how and why she'd agreed to him.

'I'll be out in a second,' she told him warmly, her hands going up to remove one of her little pearl earrings. 'Just getting changed.'

'Excuse me?'

She looked up again.

'What?'

'What did you say?'

'I'm… just getting changed,' she said, frowning slightly. 'You know, so we can eventually leave.'

'You're not gonna stay like that?'

She looked down at herself, resplendent, wrapped in a simple, though entirely magnificent, white dress, glowing in ways and degrees that Tony hadn't previously thought possible.

'No,' she told him, a smile playing at her glossy lips. 'The bride usually gets changed, then we go say goodbye to everyone, then we get in the car your brother decimated and then we run off to wherever it is you're planning on taking me…where is that, by the way?'

'Secret,' he said, ready as always to deflect her hundredth attempt at unearthing their mysterious destination. 'And don't get changed.'

The beseeching undertone in his voice took her by surprise. He closed the door behind him, and they stood together, gazing at each other from opposite sides of the room, alone for the first time in twenty four hours.

Synchronized, as though they'd planned it ahead of time, they both left their marks, crossed the garish green carpet in two strides and met in the middle. His hands caught her face, hers found their resting place on his chest, and he brought his mouth down to meet hers in a voracious kiss. They melded easily into one another, tasting each other as though trying to ascertain if marriage had somehow changed the most fundamental elements of their attraction. It hadn't.

She murmured her pleasure to him, her fingers tickling his neck and, with a last loving nibble of her bottom lip, he let her pull back.

'How're things going out there?' she asked, tonguing her lips and shooting a concerned look over his shoulder at the closed door.

He shrugged, his arms looping around her waist, holding her snugly, swaying to the low musical drone emanating from the dance floor of the small reception room across the corridor. It was a simple place, an old place, and they'd chosen it for both its charm and its size. They knew they were having a small wedding. Their guest list barely scraped forty, and the majority of that number was made up by Tony's cousins.

'Danny's keeping mostly to himself. Genevieve got dessert wine on her dress.'

'Her flower girl dress?'

'What other dress is she wearing?'

'Oh god…why did she have wine anyway? Who gave a ten year old wine?'

'She was talking to my father at his table. She spilt his glass over them both. Then she stamped on Marcos' foot – '

'Your cousin or your uncle?'

'Cousin,' he told her. 'Because he took the last bit of cake.'

'She's had three pieces.'

'She wanted a fourth.'

He watched her eyes close in resignation.

'I have to go and apologise.'

'Patrick has pretty much undressed himself,' he continued on, ignoring her. 'Now he's just wandering around to the music in his pants and an open shirt, doing these weird little moves. From where I stand it's a combination of martial arts and break dancing. Looks kinda good.'

'He's eight.'

'So? He's giving it a fair try. It was good of Elise to let them participate.'

'I disagree,' she said, bumping her nose against his chin. 'They're my niece and nephew. I have every right to have them here messing up our wedding if I want.'

He chuckled, his lips finding hers once more.

'I actually thought Patrick had eaten the rings or something when he couldn't hand them over.'

She giggled into his cheek, and he moved his hand up and down the silk on her back, caressing her lightly, and grinned greedily to himself when her arms snaked around his neck.

'He grew in the month after his fitting,' she explained. 'His pockets were too tight. It was cute watching him dig them out though.'

'It was cute. He is cute,' Tony agreed. 'They both are.'

'Your father likes them.'

'My father likes small people in general,' he said.

She grinned.

'And Robbie?'

'Robert,' he corrected her stiffly, 'is busy hitting on one of your college friends. Eve?'

'She's from high school.'

'Yeah, well, as long as he's not sniffing around the bride I'm happy.'

'Tony…'

'He knows to stay well away after …well…'

'Yeah, yeah,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'Still, I love Robbie.'

'Robert. And you love me more, right?' he asked, his hands slipping down to cup her behind, pulling her properly against him and dotting her cheeks with kisses.

She laughed again and beamed at him, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy.

'Do I love you more than your brother? Just,' she said, her index finger trailing his jaw. 'Married you, didn't I?'

'Yeah, about that,' he said, swaying them in time to the next song, a faster number. He imagined Patrick having the time of his life out there and wondered how many of his relatives the boy was going to "karate chop" before the song was over. 'Thanks.'

'For marrying you?'

'Yeah.'

'Was my pleasure,' she whispered into his ear, her curls tickling his face. 'If I like you enough to look like Chewbacca on my wedding day then I guess I like you enough to marry you.'

He grinned again, raking his fingers through her curls. It took him weeks to convince her to keep her hair down and natural for the ceremony. She had predictably wanted it pinned up, or straightened out, but he simply wouldn't have it.

'I want to marry you,' he'd told her in bed one night, her head on his chest, his hands in her curls. 'Not you as you think you're meant to be. Just you. Normal you. My you.'

'I want to look stunning,' she'd told him quietly, her fingers combing lazily through his chest hair. 'Not the way I look here, when you're chasing me around in my pyjamas.'

'You don't wear pyjamas.'

'Thanks to you.'

He'd chuckled gluttonously at that, and drew her closer still.

'Just wear it down,' he'd begged her, his lips on her cheek. 'Out. Whatever you call it. Just don't pin it away. Not on that day.'

'I'll think about it.'

Now, standing there with her curls free and abundant as ever, he gave her an extra squeeze.

'Thanks.'

She shrugged.

'Felt like bad luck to wear it up anyway,' she told him. 'It's up every day.'

'Bad luck?' he asked her.

She nodded. 'I wore something old, these earrings, and something new - that's the dress, and something borrowed, see?' She took a lipstick off the dresser and held it up. 'It belongs to Eve. Oh, and something blue too, just to be sure.'

He looked her over, his eyes scanning for the colour. He found nothing.

'What?'

She grinned.

'You'll find out. In the meantime, you should be glad I did. I could've just saved our house from burning down in a couple of years.'

'You…huh?'

'Bad luck not to,' she explained into his chin, still smiling. 'I could've saved us from going broke one day…or our dog from getting run over by a car or something.'

'Dog?'

'When we get one.'

'I don't like dogs.'

'You'll like ours.'

'Since when are you superstitious?'

She snorted. 'Seriously? I'm not. I just… well, couldn't hurt, right?'

'I'm not sure you wearing blue, whatever it is, or having your hair down is gonna save us from anything. If something's gonna go wrong,' he said sagely, 'then it'll go wrong.'

She blinked at him, her eyes suddenly anxious.

'You think something will?'

He rubbed noses with her.

'No.'

She smiled into his lips.

'Me neither.'

'Don't get changed.'

'You haven't said why yet. I'm going to need a reason.'

'Because you look stunning.' She rolled her eyes. He persevered. 'And because I've always envisioned myself peeling you out of a wedding dress. Sorry, but you're not taking that away from me.'

She held him tightly at that, her lips on his neck as his hands roamed the small of her back.

'Michelle,' he said. 'I –'

'Shhh,' she told him. 'You don't need to.'

''Kay,' he said, thankful she'd stopped him. He'd wanted to say something meaningful, something just for her, something to explain what she'd done for him today. He knew his attempt would be woeful at best, and she seemed to know it too. Instead, she pressed herself flush against him and made to push his jacket from his shoulders.

'Hey,' he said gently, 'What're you – '

'You wanted to take me out of the dress,' she mumbled. 'And I'm not wearing this on the plane so…'

'How'd you know we were catching a plane?'

'I know everything,' she said simply. 'And I can't wait til then anyway.'

'You…' he suddenly found breathing quite impossible. 'You wanna make love here?'

She nodded mischievously, her brown eyes skimming the contents of the dingy dressing room. He followed her gaze. There was a red velvet couch pushed into a corner.

'It's dusty.'

'It's perfect.'

'There are people out there, waiting for us.'

'They're all pretty drunk.'

'The kids are running around outside.'

'They're busy injuring your cousins.'

'Michelle…'

'Tony…'

He groaned when she swayed her silk-covered hips against him, and he realised he couldn't wait for it to be perfect, didn't want to wait, not when she was standing in the dress she'd married him in. Not when she'd just done him the colossal honour of promising to be his always. Their guests, their families, the whole damn reception could go to hell, at least until he'd loved her as she wanted to be loved. The next instant she was beneath him on the couch, and he was trailing kisses over her shoulders.

'So we are catching a plane?' she whispered throatily into his hair.

He stopped and glared down at her, realising she'd tricked him into giving up a crucial clue.

'No,' he said quickly.

'No?'

'Which part of "surprise" do you not understand?' he asked her sternly, his tongue stroking her clavicle, stilling for a moment to properly appreciate the feel and weight of her fingers against his face, her wedding band cold on his skin. He took her left hand away from his cheek and stared at it. He brought it to his mouth, kissing it, feeling a wealth of love and gratitude rushing up within him as he did.

'Love you,' he told her, looking up to find her watching him closely. He knew he didn't say it often. They weren't the sort of people to shout it from the rooftops, or reliably end phone calls with the declaration, or say it every time they crossed paths. Now though, he needed to tell her, and she closed her eyes as he did, her arms twisting around him once more. She looked happy, he thought proudly. She looked intrinsically happy, wholly happy, radiantly and wildly happy, and it was because of him.

'Love you forever,' she promised him, her voice little more than a breath across his skin. 'Now get me out of this dress.'

opium x