A/N: Spoilers for series 4. This is just a great big ball of fluff and sappiness, but I loved writing it, so I hope you'll love reading it. Please REVIEW if you do!
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. Just borrowing them and having some fun!
"I've never been much for words, me," he starts, and you smile and roll your eyes, "but this lady beside me, and she is a lady, don't you doubt it, is something really fucking special. She'd have to have been to tame me, right?" he grins, and there's a chorus of laughter.
You look up at him, and he grins down at you, that toothy grin that you love so much, before he returns his attention to his waiting audience.
"You all know me, and I'm not always easy to deal with, but this lovely lady has stuck by me through thick and thin. I'm looking forward to spending forever, the fucking lowest of the low times and the highest of the high," he mimes taking a toke and winks, earning himself another giggle, "with this wonderful woman. Today I am the fucking luckiest man in the world, because I've married the love of my life. Here's to you, Katherine Elizabeth Fitch, or, well, Cook now," he beams down at you, and you smile back so wide your cheeks feel like they might burst, but you don't care, "my wife! I love you!" He raises his glass of champagne to the room and takes a sip.
You do the same quickly, but you're tearing up. As he takes a seat you pull him in to you, plastering your lips forcefully to his. You ignore the wolf-whistles. All you can focus on is him, your husband (and God it feels good to be able to call him that!): James Patrick Cook.
The first time he'd told you he loved you, you hadn't believed it, and he hadn't meant it.
He'd been fucking you from behind, moaning out a slew of words, some of which made sense, some of which didn't. You could tell he was getting close, and to be honest, so were you. He was fucking good. Lived up to the hype for once.
It had been roughly two weeks after the discovery of Freddie's death, and the day before the funeral. You'd both needed someone, and you'd both just been there. You'd helped each other forget. You'd helped each other feel something besides pain.
He'd practically grunted out the words. "Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck yes! Oh, fuck, I love you!"
You'd glanced back, smugly and found his eyes clenched tightly closed, head tilted back, as his strong, muscular frame thrust into you.
It had been emotionless on the surface, and yet it had ended up being so much deeper.
"Well, first of all, I know that at weddings it is often customary to tap our glasses and have the happy couple kiss. I know it's early in the reception yet, but studies have shown that the first glass clink to make the couple kiss usually happens within the first five minutes of the reception, and we're now seventeen minutes and thirty-eight…make that thirty-nine seconds in, so I'd say we're a bit behind schedule," he finishes up, checking his watch then cheekily leaning forward to tap his knife to his glass of champagne.
You and Cook turn to face each other in unison and grin into your kiss. You don't mind. You'll never get tired of kissing him.
"Now, as is customary for the best man do to, I'll get on with the speech I've prepared. As some of you know, I've known Cook my whole life. He's my best friend. Katie…Well, Katie I used to find, or, well, still find, actually, rather intimidating," he flashes you a nervous smile.
You smile back and roll your eyes. You haven't called him a mong in years. You're kind of fond of him even.
"I do know, however, that I have never seen Cook happier than he's been since the two of them got together. I don't know how you managed to mellow him, Katie, but good job. It makes being his best friend infinitely easier," he shoots another grin, this one aimed at your husband, but you know, even though it's meant in good fun, there's an element of truth to it as well. The audience chuckles appropriately. "And Cook, I know that Freddie, may her rest in peace, would be really happy that you found someone that makes you so happy. I know he'd want to have been here."
You can't help it. You're tearing up again. And here you told yourself you wouldn't cry. Out of habit you glance up to the roof of the white tent, towards heaven. You'd like to think that Freddie was there today, watching down on you both. You know how special he was and always will be to Cook. He holds a special place in your heart too.
"So here's to you. May you both live longer than average lives together so that you have even more time to enjoy the love I know you share. To Cook and Katie!" JJ toasts.
You and Cook look into each other's eyes and smile, though you catch the hint of tear in his, and you know instantly what caused it. It's ok though. You can both think back fondly these days. You pick up your glass and wrap your arm around his. You clink your glasses together, smiles growing even wider, both of you back to the moment at hand.
"To us," you murmur.
"Fuck right," he mumbles.
You drink, arms still intertwined.
He had told you that he likes to talk to Freddie sometimes. You'd wanted to scoff, but he had been so serious, and you'd realised then, that he was sharing a part of himself with you.
You'd gone with him the next time he'd gone to visit Freddie's grave. The sunlight had beamed down on you, unseasonably warm for November, as you'd picked your way through the headstones. It had seemed so contradictory at the time, the sombre mood on such a beautiful day.
You had laid the bouquet of white roses on his grave, and Cook had brushed a few weeds away, swiping a bird dropping off the top of the headstone. He'd taken a seat then, just plopped down next to the grave, and awkwardly you'd followed suit, watching him intently.
"So Freds, you remember how I said I was kind of dating Katie?" Cook had voiced after what had seemed like an inexorably long five minutes.
It had been such a sharp noise, in the still graveyard, that you'd jumped a little, but he hadn't seemed to notice.
"Well I brought her along this time. Can't thank you enough for breaking her heart, yeah?" he joked, and you'd recognised it for what it was: an attempt to make light of a situation so it didn't hurt so much.
He'd glanced up at you then, and you'd seen that he wasn't succeeding. Pain had flashed in his pale grey-blue eyes.
"Anyway, things have been going pretty well, I think. You'll have to ask her to be sure," he'd glanced at you again, this time a small smile had graced his features. "She keeps me in line. Well, kind of. No one can truly tame the Cookie Monster of course."
You'd almost scoffed at that. It hadn't taken you that long to whip him into a decent enough excuse for a respectable boyfriend that you could bring him home and introduce him to your mum and dad.
"Oh. I talked to Effy the other day. She sends her love. Misses you like crazy, man. She's not the only one."
You'd watched as a tear had trickled down his cheek, and had to resist the urge to wipe it away. It had surprised you, a little, how you'd felt an acute stab of pain just seeing him be in such obvious pain. You had stayed still though. It had been his moment. His time with Freddie.
"Anyway, I really came here today, because I wanted to tell you something," he had continued, scrunching up his nose and squinting out into the distance at nothing in particular. "I thought you should be one of the first to know, you see. The thing is..." his eyes had flicked to you then. "The thing is, I think I love her. Katie, I mean. Like real love."
You'd have sworn that your heart had just stopped for a few seconds as his eyes had bored into yours. You'd only vaguely been aware of a small tear slipping down your own cheek. You hadn't known why you were crying even, it had just been that emotion had overwhelmed you so completely that it had been all you could do.
He'd made a face then, kind of half squinting at you with one eye, then he'd straightened up a little. "I love you, Katie."
You'd realised right then and there, that you loved him to. Not just the respectable version of himself he pretended to be around your parents for your benefit, but all of him. Him as a person. Exactly as he was.
You'd had a chat with Freddie of your own after that. Afterwards, it had felt like you had his blessing.
"I know, what some of you are thinking. You're thinking I look an awful lot like Katie. But I'm fitter," she begins, and you slap at her arm playfully glaring.
Everyone chuckles.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have been channelling sixteen-year-old Katie there for a second. That would be the age at which my lovely twin first met one James Cook. I'll be honest. We both thought he was a complete wanker at first. In other words, he was just Katie's type," she teases to another patter of laughter.
Even you have to chuckle when you think back to some of your less than wonderful past beaus.
"Of course, it turns out I was wrong on both counts," she continues. "I remember when we were six, and Katie announced to me one day, 'I know exactly the type of man I'm going to marry!' I hadn't been interested, but naturally she'd told me anyway," she grins cheekily at you, having imitated your voice to a T, and you roll your eyes and grin back. "She told me that the man she was going to marry would be daringly handsome, clever, strong, with soft, wavy hair she could run her hands through, and piercingly beautiful eyes, and that he would always, always treat her right. Of course, I found out later that she'd gotten a hold of one of mum's romance novels and had been reading it."
You chuckle along with everyone else as you remember the moment in question. You glance at Cook who's watching you affectionately. You instantly feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
"Anyway, at seven Katie got her first boyfriend, and I have to say that he was none of those things, but low and behold, ten years after she first made that declaration to me, she met Cook. At first, I didn't think he was any of those things either, apart from perhaps the strong thing and the hair thing, but he proved me wrong. He won my sister's heart, and he earned it. He is everything that she said she wanted in the man she'd marry. He's everything that I could want for her. I've watched them grow up together from a cocky tosser and a pushy WAG to the wonderful people that they are today, and they can thank each other for that."
"And me, obviously," Naomi pipes up, earning her a glare from your mother and laughter from everyone else, you included. She's not even entirely wrong on that front, not that you'd admit that to her.
"So here's to you, Katie, my beautiful, beautiful sister, and Cook, my wonderful brother-in-law! May your love flourish and never die, and may you always be as happy together as you are today!" Emily raises her glass to the room, and then smiles down at you and raises it to you as well, reaching out her free hand to take your free hand and squeezing tight.
Yours is a bond that will never be broken. You glance to Cook, and realise that now you've got two of those: one with each of the most important people in your life.
You had been watching telly, waiting for him to come home with the fish and chips he promised he'd pick up on the way home from work, and you'd honestly been a bit put out with him because he was half an hour late, and he hadn't even called.
When he had finally sauntered through the door, handful of chips just being shoved in his mouth, one look from you had been all it had taken to let him know that he was in trouble.
"There was traffic, right? And look, I got the fish and chips! And the tosser behind the counter was moving ridiculously slow, and my fucking phone died again," he had begun to defend himself, mouth still full of chips, and he'd looked so comical that you'd had to laugh.
He'd sat down beside you on the couch then and handed you your portion of chips with as good a grin as he could manage while still chewing. "See? This is why I love you. You can tell when I'm being honest," he had mumbled.
You'd had to kiss him then. His lips had tasted like vinegar and salt but you hadn't cared, because he'd said it so casually, like it was easy for him, and from the look in his eye, it was. He loved you.
When you'd pulled away, he'd beamed down at you. "Oh, and I got you this," Cook added, reaching in his deep coat pocket and pulling out a slightly smushed red rose.
In case you hadn't already forgiven him, that would have melted your heart. "I love you, you stupid twat," you had replied, blushing lightly.
His toothy grin had grown even wider. "Yeah?" he had asked, reminding you that while you'd indicated it, and come close, you'd never said it outright before.
"Yeah," you'd assured him with a nervous smile and a kiss.
"Good, cause there was this thing I was wondering if you'd be willing to try. You know, in the bedroom..."
You'd slapped him on the arm and rolled your eyes, and he'd laughed.
Two days later, you'd tried the thing...and enjoyed it, as it'd turned out.
"I have to say that I'm very proud to be standing up here today. My little Katie has never looked more beautiful, and I think we can all see how happy both she and James look. I remember when Katie was a little girl, playing dress up, pretending to be a princess or a fairy or a bride. It was always the bride play that scared me. The thought of this precious little girl growing up and leaving the safety of our household and our family scared the living daylights out of me," he admits, and this is bad because already you feel more tears welling up in your eyes.
"It used to be that I thought that nobody would ever be good enough for my little girls, especially none of those boys that so obviously had only one thing on their minds, although I naturally set them straight," he chuckles, and you and Emily exchanged a pointed look.
"With James, though, it was different. Now, as a responsible parent, I still threatened him life and limb when he began dating Katie if he should ever hurt her," he continues to a few scattered titters. "But James met my eye and didn't back down. I had to respect him for that. As time went on, and I saw how happy he made my daughter and how well he fit with my family, my respect for him grew. With him, it never felt like he was taking my little girl away from me, especially once he helped me start up my new gym, where he's been working ever since, even now that it's only part time after his real job," he smiles warmly at Cook, and you can't help but reach out and squeeze your husband's arm proudly.
It certainly had been an uphill battle impressing your dad, who'd been suspicious of Cook's intentions at first. At least he'd managed to charm your mother right away.
"Today, I couldn't be happier to stand up here and tell you that not one, but both of my daughters have found love and happiness in people that I know and respect. Today, I'm proud to welcome Cook officially into my family. I know that you'll look after my little girl and keep her safe and keep her happy the way that I've always tried to do," your dad glances round and takes your mum's hand in his. "We love you both. Here's to you!"
Another glass is raised in your honour as a tear of joy trickles down your cheek. Cook wipes it tenderly away and places a kiss where it had been. You've never felt more loved in your whole life.
The next time he'd told you he loved you during sex, you'd believed him without hesitation. Everything had been different from the first time he'd done so.
He'd been thrusting into you slowly, taking his time, making sure that you felt everything completely. He had looked you dead in the eye, staring into your mind, into your very soul, and he'd almost whispered, "I fucking love you, Katie Fitch."
You had known he meant it, but it had been so much more than that. You had felt his words all through your body, down to your bones. From head to toe you'd felt his love.
From head to toe you'd tried to make him feel your love back for him.
When you'd laid cuddling afterwards, and he'd sighed contentedly into your ear, you'd felt certain he'd gotten the message.
"As many of you probably know, I'm Emily's fiancée, and as such, Katie and I haven't always seen eye to eye," she begins, and you let out a low laugh. It's practically the understatement of the century. "I have to say, though, that I whole-heartedly back her decision in choosing Cook as her partner. In fact, I believe I've referred to it before as the first smart decision she ever made."
Emily laughs beside you, along with several other familiar faces that know you well. You scowl playfully for old time's sake.
"Cook and I have long been close friends. At this point, I practically consider him a brother, and this time next year, he'll officially be as well. From the moment I met him, when he wouldn't stop calling me 'babe' at assembly then dropped his trousers to display his rather impressive tattoo, I knew there was something special about him," she teases playfully, and Cook's low laugh from beside you carries to your ears above all the others, shooting warmth through you to your core. "It took me a little longer to figure out exactly how special and caring he truly was. I still figured it out long before I figured out that Katie wasn't half bad, however."
"Yeah. Definitely took you long enough, Campbell," you chime in, unable to resist taking the good-natured jab at her. Everyone in the tent chuckles.
"Hey, quit interrupting, Fitch!" she shoots back with a wink.
"It's my prerogative as the bride! And it's Cook now, thank you very much," you correct.
"Anyway," continues, pretending to ignore you, much to your amusement. "It took Katie a while to get over the initial shock that somebody with as unique a fashion as me had won her sister's heart. Naturally my wit and charm won her around in the end," she jokes, and you guffaw good-humouredly. "I think that I actually have Cook and Emily to thank, in the end, for helping convince her that I wasn't as big-headed and obnoxious as she believed me to be. In the end, we bonded, and today I consider her one of my closest friends."
You can't help being slightly shocked that she's admitting that aloud, and not just to you, but to a hundred and fifty of your closest friends and family. It's not that she's not one of your closest friends. She truly has become one. It's just that for the most part, you both enjoy the facade that you're not. You can't help but smile that she cares enough to speak the truth today when it matters most to you. Then again, you did make her a bridesmaid.
"Lao Tzu, the great Chinese Taoist philosopher, said, 'Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.' So, to two of my closest friends, I wish that your love for each other will forever continue to give you enough strength and courage to tackle all of life's challenges together. To the bride and groom!" Naomi lifts her glass and looks first at Cook, then you, then at Emily, and you know she's flashing to next summer when she'll be the bride...or the groom...whatever.
You and Cook lift your glasses in her direction.
You secretly resolve to think of something even better to say at her wedding.
You had agonised for days over telling him your sad truth. You'd been discussing futures of late, and it was fairly clear that at least for the foreseeable future the two of you would be spending it together, especially since you'd moved in together. It was only fair that you tell him.
You'd cooked him a big meal with all his favourite foods, and he'd known from the moment that he walked in the door that something was up. He'd tucked in anyway, but as soon as he'd finished, before you could set out dessert, he'd pulled you in close to him, and kissed you tenderly on the forehead.
"What's wrong, Katiekins? Talk to me."
You'd sighed heavily, brokenly, looked up into his kind, caring eyes, and broken into tears. "Cook, I can't have children."
"Is this about me sayin' we should get a dog? 'Cause we don't have to. It was just a suggestion!"
You'd shaken your head vigorously as you'd sniffled. "No, Cook, I can't ever have children. I went through premature menopause our last year of college. I can never get pregnant."
He'd picked you up, sweeping you right off your feet, and carried you to the living room, setting you gently down on the couch, then set his forehead against yours. "Katie, I want you to listen up, ok? Because what I'm about to say is important."
You'd nodded against his forehead, and he'd brought up a strong, slightly rough thumb to wipe away your tears.
"I love you, just as you are, so if that means you can't have kids, that's fine. I'm not ready to be a dad at any rate. And if someday I am, and we're together, and we want to, we can adopt. Fuck, any kid would be lucky to have you as a mother. I wish someone like you'd adopted me when I was a kid so I hadn't had to live with my fucking crazy, inconsiderate mum for so fucking long. Just because you can't have kids doesn't change who you are, Katie Fitch, and who you are is the woman I love," he'd informed you, his eyes boring earnestly into yours, his words making you cry harder.
"I love you so much," you'd gasped several minutes later when you'd stopped sobbing long enough to find your voice.
He'd held you on the couch for almost an hour, and then even when you'd gone back to eat dessert, he'd kept one hand on yours.
The next day he'd brought home a beagle puppy. "Consider it a test run for adoption," he'd suggested. "And anyway, we can spoil him like he's our kid. I've got him this wicked spiked collar!" he'd gushed, proceeding to hold up a collar that would have been big around the poor dog's waist. He'd seemed to realise that fact in that moment and had frowned a little. "Guess he'll have to grow into it."
"If we ever have kids, I'm doing the clothes shopping. I don't want them running around naked until they're ten and have grown into whatever you buy them," you'd declared, but you'd kissed him hard a moment later. As far as you were concerned, it was one of the most thoughtful things he'd ever done for you.
"Well, I'm really not very good with public speaking, or this gushy love shit, but Katie told me I have to make a speech and Emily said she could still kick the shit out of me if I didn't, so here I am," he begins, and the guests laugh as if he's kidding, but you have no doubt that Emily had said just that.
"My mate Gordon MacPherson says that love is for pussies, but I disagree, because I've seen that, even if it makes you act like a bit of a twat at times, it can also be pretty cool. Besides, anyone who's ever met Cook, knows that he's no pussy," he adds, getting a few hearty laughs, the loudest being from your husband.
You can't help thinking that Emily won't be asking him to make a speech at her wedding. At least he behaved himself through the ceremony. Then again, he'd been pretty chuffed Cook had asked him to be a groomsman.
"Anyway, Cook, I'm proud to call you my brother, especially since you told me you'd tell me how to-"
"Shut up, man! Later!" Cook hisses at him.
You shoot Cook a suspicious look, and he does his best to look innocent. You'll definitely have to ask him about that little comment later. But not today. Not on your wedding day.
"Anyway, welcome to the family, and, um...Congrats! Cheers to Katie and Cook!" James finishes, and you roll your eyes.
You suppose that you should be happy he tried.
You'd known it was coming. It wasn't like you hadn't talked about the possibility of marriage. You'd been together three and a half years after all. You just hadn't known when exactly he was going to pop the question.
You'd had the trip planned to London for a while, and Cook had pestered you for weeks to let him do some of the touristy crap, that you claimed you didn't see the point of doing in your own bloody country, but he'd seemed so excited that you'd given in anyway.
You should have known that something was up, when you got onto a private capsule, but Cook blew you off saying that he hadn't wanted to share his view of the city with loud-mouthed, obnoxious tourists.
The bottles of champagne, really should have tipped you off, but Cook had shrugged saying that when he'd found out they'd had a ticket that involved alcohol he'd figured why the fuck not.
It wasn't until you got to the top, and your not completely empty glass of champagne was replaced with a full one, that it finally clicked that something was going on.
You'd glance down at the new glass that had been handed to you, about to protest that you hadn't finished the other, when you caught sight of the flash of jewellery at the bottom. You'd frozen in place, mouth agape and your heart racing a mile a minute. It hadn't seemed possible, yet when you looked up, Cook had gotten down on one knee, and you'd known that this was it.
Tears of joy had welled up in your eyes even before he'd started to speak, grinning nervously up at you as he'd taken your hand.
"Katie Fitch, you are the most beautiful, intelligent, fashionable," he'd winked cheekily, "and challenging woman that I have ever met, and you challenge me in ways that I never imagined possible, and every time you do, I become a better person. There is not a doubt in my mind that I would be the man I am today without you in my life. You're really fucking special, and I hope I tell you that enough. I fucking love you, Katie Fitch. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?"
You'd been stunned speechless for a minute, and Cook had shifted anxiously.
"It'd be really great if you could, you know, say something right about now?" he'd coaxed.
"Sorry, yes! Of course, yes!" you'd assured him.
He'd beamed at you then, and taken the glass of champagne from your hand, trying to fish out the ring from the bottom. In the end he'd had to chug most of it and pour the ring out into his hand. He'd wiped it dry on his shirt, then slid it gingerly onto your finger. The large diamond on the simple, but elegant band shone back at you as you tilted your hand from side to side, letting it catch the bright light.
"Oh, Cook! I love it!"
"Good! Nothing's too good for you, Katiekins. Nothing. That's what I told the shopkeeper who looked down his nose at me when I'd come in straight from work, right? Not my fault I work with grease, is it? It's an honest day's work I do! Same as him. Told him that too!" he'd announced proudly.
"Good for you, babes!" you'd replied, silly grin plastered on your face where it was to remain for weeks.
Cook hadn't been done with the surprises though, because when you got back down and stepped out, Emily, Naomi, Effy, JJ, your mum and dad, and James had been waiting for you, looking expectant.
You'd all gone out to an expensive celebratory dinner after several rounds of hugs and kisses and congratulations.
You hadn't found out until later that Cook had orchestrated everything over a month earlier, including braving asking your father for your hand in marriage.
"As anyone who knows me well can attest to, I'm not big on words, but today I thought I'd make an exception. Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and that's kind of what happened in the case of Cook and Katie. Neither of them was looking for love, let alone from each other, and yet they found it," she begins, and you have to admit that she's right.
You weren't looking to fall in love with Cook. In fact, you'd expected him to disappear from your life after that first shag, but he didn't and he made his way into your heart. Now you can't imagine your life without him in it.
"As the American novelist, James A. Baldwin once aptly said, 'Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is growing up.' I think that no two people know this more than Katie and Cook, because they truly have grown up together into the two people that sit today before you," she continues.
You take a moment to process the quote. It's very true. Love takes work, and you and Cook have certainly worked on it together. When you think about how much you've grown with him, because of him, it's almost overwhelming, but then again he's there at your side, growing with you, because of you, and you always support each other in that.
"I used to be afraid of love, and when it was taken from me, I grew even more so, but seeing the love and strength between the two of you. And between Naomi and Emily. It's made me believe in it again. Seeing the joy you both share, reminds me that it's worth the potential for pain, especially when there's somebody there to pick you up when you fall, to nurture you when that pain happens."
You notice the tear falling from her eye, but she wipes it away quickly, and continues. You remind yourself to give her an extra hug later.
"You have both been true friends to me, and I know that you'll forever continue to be true friends to each other. And so, as a token of my appreciation, and because this has been possibly the most words I've ever strung together at one time, and I think it's time I shut up," she tags on, to a sprinkling of laughter from those who know her, "I'd like to present you both with this. Just a little memento of the love, friendship and partnership you've shared so far, with some blank space to add some of that yet to come."
Effy pulls out a large canvas which has been fashioned into a collage of photographs. You recognise them as Effy's work. She's got an incredible eye as far as photography goes. If she hadn't been your bridesmaid, she'd have been your wedding photographer.
You don't know how she smuggled this in without you noticing, but then again you have been rather distracted. You and Cook take it from her in dumbfounded awe. Staring back at you is picture after picture of moments that you and Cook have shared, sometimes with others, sometimes just the two of you. The most incredible pictures are the series of candid shots that you had no idea she'd even been taking at the time. It's in them that you can most easily see the bond and the chemistry between you and Cook. There's no doubt that this is going straight on your wall at home.
In the bottom left corner, there is a blank space, with the words "And then..." written out in Effy's graceful scrawl. It warms your heart to think of all of the memories that you have yet to make with Cook.
You can't help it then, as you continue to survey the pictures, Cook pointing out some to you, then kissing you tenderly on the forehead. Your eyes well up, and a tear trickles down your face.
You're both so wrapped up in your present that you almost miss Effy's, "So here's to you! To Katie and Cook!" It's a nudge from Emily that reminds you to pick up your own glass.
You look at Cook and know that he's thinking exactly the same thing you are. You're both incredibly privileged to be so loved by so many.
You'd potentially gone a little overboard. Emily was on the verge of throttling you, at least, and the only reason she hadn't so far was because Effy and Naomi had talked her down a few times. For some reason your argument of, "Well at least you'll look fucking good in those green bridesmaid dresses," hadn't had the soothing effect you'd hoped.
She'd stormed off earlier in the day, Effy and Naomi trailing apologetically after her. You'd been rather huffy, because it was your fucking wedding after all.
"Cook what colour vests are your groomsmen going to wear?" you'd demanded. "I gave you the three colour swatches that match the bridesmaid's dresses last week. Have you decided yet? I have to get back to the shopkeeper!" you'd growled as soon as he'd walked in the door from work.
"Woah, babe, can't I fucking sit down for a minute? It was a fucking long day. I'm wiped!" he'd protested, sinking down into his favourite chair.
"And filthy! Go shower, for fuck's sake! Don't you dare get grease on my wedding things!" you'd scolded.
He'd sighed heavily, then headed up the stairs to the bathroom to clean off. When he'd reappeared twenty minutes later, you'd started in on him again.
"So for the table clothes, I'm thinking white, because the tent will be white, right? But I don't know about the napkins. The red combined with the bridesmaids dresses will just make it look like a Christmas party, so I definitely don't want that. There's these two blues, here, or there's this yellow. What do you think?" you'd held up the options in question.
"Very napkinny," he'd replied, and you'd glared daggers at him.
"Not fucking helpful, James!"
He'd rolled his eyes. "I dunno. Blue."
"Which blue?" you'd pressed.
"The one on the right?"
You'd known that he was just guessing, not actually giving you his opinion and it was fucking infuriating. It was his wedding too, but he had yet to make a single decision.
"And what about the design for the ice sculpture? Did you look over my top four designs for it?"
"I still don't understand why we've got an ice sculpture when we're going to be outside in the middle of the summer. Won't it just melt?" he'd pointed out.
"And the vests for the tuxes?" you'd demanded.
"Oh, um, whichever you think works best, babe," he'd replied.
You'd lost it then. "Cook, this is our wedding! Operative word being 'our', as in yours and mine, both of ours, together! Do you even fucking care? You can't give me a straight answer on fucking anything! I want your opinion! I want you to like the wedding too for fuck's sake!"
Cook had picked his way through the various wedding planning items that were scattered around the floor, and slunk down beside you on the carpet. He'd taken your face in his hands and made you look him straight in the eyes. "Katiekins, I don't give a shit about napkins and ice sculptures! I'd marry you here and now in tracksuits! The only thing that matters to me is that I'm marrying you! I want my Katie back! As long as you're happy, I'm happy. I can't decide because I know that whatever you choose will be fucking awesome, ok?"
"I just want a little input from you. I want it to feel more like ours," you'd explained a little more calmly, because how could you not have melted at a speech like that.
Cook had nodded, then looked down seriously at the napkin samples you still held clutched in your fists. He'd taken them off you and examined them with a critical eye. "This blue," he'd finally declared, holding one up. "Definitely this one."
You'd kissed him hard then, to let him know his efforts were appreciated. "I love you, Cook."
"See? And that's why we'll be ok, you and me. That's why this wedding's gonna go perfectly. It's because I love you and you love me. We love each other," he'd explained his reasoning.
You'd known, without question, that he was right.
"Do you have any idea how lucky I am?" you ask him, as you're wrapped in his strong, muscular arms, your head lying on his bare chest, sheets wrapped around your naked bodies.
"Because you didn't have to give a speech today?" he suggests with a toothy grin.
You slap him lightly on the chest. "No, you twat! Because I married you, the most wonderful man in the world."
"I notice that doesn't spare me being called a twat," he points out, still grinning.
"'Course not," you reply.
You lie in comfortable silence, simply breathing each other in. Your legs are sore, and you're not sure you'll be able to stand on your feet tomorrow. Cook either for that matter. Frankly you'd been impressed he'd managed to carry you across the threshold of the hotel room that you were sharing for the night (courtesy of your parents).
The two of you had danced the night away surrounded by friends and family, all of them looking at the two of you. It had been the most incredible day of your life so far. You're on such a natural high that you're not sure you'll ever come down.
"So what would you have said?" he asks, drawing lazy circles on your back with his rough finger.
"What?" you inquire, unsure what he means.
"If you'd given a speech," he explains.
You think about it for a minute, rearranging so that you can look him in the eye, then clear your throat. "Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for coming here today and sharing this amazing day with us."
"Oh shit! I meant to say something about that!" he murmurs sheepishly.
You giggle, then continue. "There were times when I wasn't sure this day would ever happen. Before I ever found Cook, there was just nobody that I dated that I could ever envision a future with enough to want to marry them. Then I met Cook, and I honestly never thought he'd be the settling down type," you wink at him.
"Damn straight. I don't settle," he mumbles, pulling you in for a kiss. "I got the best."
"Let me finish," you reprimand, though inside you're glowing at his words.
"Sorry, sorry. Go on," he urges, stealing another quick kiss.
"I never thought, when I met him, that he would end up being the man of my dreams. 'Can chug a whole glass of water plus a goldfish' or 'can eat a whole chocolate cake by himself' were not high on my list of things to look for in a possible husband."
He chuckles at the memory of his seventeenth birthday, and you grin lovingly at him.
"I couldn't have been more wrong. Today I have married the love of my life, the most wonderful man I know, and I couldn't be happier," you continue, choking up a little when you remember that your words are one hundred percent true. You're married to Cook. Bonded to him forever. It's the best feeling in the world, knowing that. "He told me once, when I was being a bit of a Bridezilla, that today would go perfectly because we love each other. He couldn't have been more right. So thank you, everyone, for being a part of this perfect day, and helping Cook and I celebrate our love for each other. Cook, here's to you, my husband, I love you forever!"
Cook claps hard, making cheering noises as well, but when he settles you see the glistening in his eyes, and you know that he was touched by your words.
"I mean it, you know. Today was perfect. Thank you," you reiterate.
"Yeah. It fucking was. Completely perfect!" he agrees, kissing you tenderly.
"I love you, Cook," you whisper into his mouth.
"I love you too, Katie. I'll love you forever," he murmurs into your ear a while later.
You know that it's true.
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