Chapter 1
Twelve Weddings.
In the last three months, Elizabeth had attended twelve weddings – one every damn Friday or Saturday evening – with Jason on her arm. He would have made a much better date had he not complained so much about wearing a tux, something she would never understand because he looked incredibly handsome in a tie. He didn't have to worry about panty lines or the cellulite on the back of his thighs making an appearance or having too much champagne and tripping over his high heels.
Ha.
Jason Morgan in high heels.
She'd have to fill him in on that visual later on.
He'd probably cry.
Ha.
Jason Morgan crying.
Weddings were just too fun.
"Why are you smiling like that?" her handsome, non-high -heel -wearing -date asked, leaning over and sliding his arm on the back of her chair.
She giggled softly as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Oh, nothing," she sighed, giggling again. "I just love weddings."
He groaned, his mouth hitching atin the side as the groan became a growl, and she couldn't fight the image of comparing him to a dog.
Ha.
Jason Morgan, the Pound Puppy.
God, she'd certainly had way too much champagne.
"I said weddings," she teased him, patting him on his thigh. "Other people's weddings. Not ours."
"Here we go again," he muttered, grabbing his glass of scotch from the table.
She gritted her teeth, refusing to have this argument yet again. He was the one who had to get all high and mighty at Johnny and Lulu's wedding funeral and insist that he didn't want to marry her, which forced him into a silly little trap. His own doing. Not hers. Though she had to admit it had been so damn funny to see the look in his eyes – how he lost that stupid happy twinkle and clearly regretted ever pulling her away from the party.
What happened after she announced their pretend engagement was not her fault.
No, she hadn't asked Lulu to cut the band off in the middle of some cheesy nineties pop song, practically rushing the stage like some crazed fan to scream at the top of her lungs that her bestest – oh yeah, she'd used that exact word – friends were now engaged too. And then she added an over zealous congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Jason Morgan, and the entire room erupted into applause. There was a table of warehouse employees that even stood up and hooped and hollered, and Jason's face turned so red that, and he probably didn't breathe for a solid five minutes.
But that was not Elizabeth's fault.
And neither was the fact that Lulu had been dropping off tons of wedding planning material, so much that it seemed to find it's way everywhere in the penthouse. Jason's desk. The coffee table. Beneath the pool table. Bookshelves. Microwaves. The bedroom. And one morning – Elizabeth had no idea how – Jason had pulled some bridal magazine from beneath a gallon of milk in the fridge.
Seriously, it wasn't Elizabeth's fault.
She tried to explain that she had spilled something in the fridge and figured the stupid magazine could soak it up, only she'd forgotten and left it there, and he just stormed out of the kitchen, muttering something about hiring a maid.
So yeah, moving in together hadn't gone as smoothly as Elizabeth hoped, but she was trying. She thought it would be easy, a simple transition of books mixing together and underwear sharing the laundry basket, but it was much, much harder.
They had practically lived together before sex, so why was it so hard after sex?
Ha.
The Faux-Engagement.
Or the F.E. as she had taken to calling it.
Unfortunately, her Faux Fiancé or F.F. hadn't taken such a liking to it.
And none of this was her fault.
Lulu made the announcement, and seeing as no one in Port Charles ever thought Jason Morgan would actually get married, it was hot gossip. There'd even been a blurb in the society pages of the paper, and his poor head had really spun at some quote from his grandfather about how he always knew Elizabeth Webber would be the one to make Jason an honest man. She was too busy feeling all starry-eyed that the crotchety old man actually thought that, and Jason had practically ruined it by whining that he'd always been an honest man.
Of course when she tried to explain that honest man meant you didn't bang whores all over town, he reminded her of her own previous endeavors, and well, so much for being happy and engaged.
"Will you stop smiling like that?" Jason murmured quietly, pressing his lips to her temple.
Ha.
She really was happy and engaged, but not really engaged.
At least she was happy.
"I just love weddings," she sighed again, tipping her head towards him. "I mean, look at them. Ritchie is so damn happy, and she's beautiful, and they love each other."
"She's pregnant," he reminded her, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink.
"The baby was made out of their love," she shot back, knowing how silly and ridiculous it sounded.
Especially when the baby was partly the reason this wedding was so rushed. Hopefully Ritchie learned not to bang the Mayor's daughter in the bathroom at Jake's anymore. Well, technically it was okay now, but maybe for future reference he'd use a condom.
Besides, she really believed Ritchie liked this girl. Sure, they'd only been together a few months and were fighting lots of statistics. They hadn't lived together even before the sex even, so they were in for a hell of a time that would clearly rival Jason and Elizabeth's.
But they loved each other.
Or at least she liked to think so.
Ritchie had never looked at Elizabeth like that, and it had been a running joke among everyone for years that she was the only girl he ever loved.
Ha.
Boys were so dumb.
"What happened to my cynical, anti-love girlfriend?" he teased, his breath hot against the side of her face.
She pursed her lips as she turned to face him, her cheeks flushing when their eyes met, and instead of saying something stupid like most men would, Jason's eyes softened and they just stared at one another.
Ha.
He was so in love.
Ha.
Aw, shit.
What if he really did want to get married?
Ha. Ha. Ha. – NO.
Damn weddings.
Sighing, she grinned as he kept his eyes on hers and took another swig of scotch.
Oh well, at least he'd get all drunk and stupid, and they could pretend this F.E. stuff was non-existent, which was easy since she'd be too busy taking advantage of him.
**********
Weddings were so ridiculous.
Itchy clothing, frilly dresses, over-priced alcohol, and dancing.
God, dancing was the worst, and he'd done more than his fair share in the last three months. He wouldn't have done any if Elizabeth wasn't so damned persistent about it, but it wasn't like he could tell her no about anything.
That very fact was the reason they were in this damned mess in the first place.
All these weddings and all these ideas, and her crying in the church and giggling all night at the reception – he just knew one day he was going to get a call to meet her at St. Timothy's or in the park or at the Metro Court, and he'd find her all dressed in white and his tux would be waiting, and she'd be all let's get married.
He would just die if that ever happened.
It wasn't like he'd humiliate her by leaving her at the altar or refusinge to come, so he'd have to show up and he'd have to marry her, and then he'd hate himself forever.
"You alright?" Elizabeth asked, tipping her head back and looking up at him. She gently raked her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as they swayed, her face filled with concerned. "You look really mad."
Jason hesitated, debating about telling her the truth, but then stopped when he really looked at her. He'd never admit it, but every single day – every time he looked at her, she was more beautiful than the last, and nothing would ever top Elizabeth Webber in a dress.
Or Elizabeth Webber in blue jeans.
Or Elizabeth Webber in her underwear.
Or Elizabeth Webber naked.
Ha.
The last was most definitely the best.
"You look beautiful tonight," he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. He shivered at the heat that burst between their lips, slowly pulling her away from the dance floor. "Let's go get some air."
Her eyebrows arched as she laughed, knowing well enough what was coming. Jason didn't say a word as he grabbed them a couple of drinks from a waiter, tossing his head towards the doors.
Okay, so maybe weddings weren't all bad.
They'd been to so many in the past three months that they had to find a way to stay entertained. It was boring enough having Elizabeth drag him through Wyndam's, clucking her tongue about everyone registering for overpriced gifts. And he couldn't stop himself from pointing out that she would do the same damn thing if she could, and well, yeah, needless to say that opened the door to the damn F.E. – oh yeah, she had him calling it that too.
He'd been royally pissed at Johnny's wedding, so pissed that he almost left, but knew it would upset Elizabeth, and she'd cryied – and see? He just couldn't tell her no, so he went with it. He figured that Johnny and Lulu would laugh the next day when they explained the truth, except he forgot just what kind of woman Johnny had married.
Only Lulu O'Brien would let her bestest – who the fuck says that? – friends steal the thunder at her wedding.
And now all of Port Charles, Manhattan, and probably the entire East Coast knew Jason Morgan was off the market. It wasn't the off the market part that annoyed him; it was the damn engaged, the stupid ball and chain, the always and forever that was getting to him.
Yeah, he loved being with Elizabeth and having her in his life, but forever?
Forever scared the living shit out of him.
And sometimes, he wasn't sure if he could live with her forever – like he'd imagine the two of them being seventy-years-old and having to brace himself on a cane as he picked up her wet towels, or wearing bifocals as he reorganized his books for the millionth fucking time, and Ggod, it just wasn't pretty.
Elizabeth was though.
She always looked like she did now in those fantasies, and it usually made him feel like a pervert.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, slipping her arms around his waist as she backed him into a bench. She clutched the green material of her dress and inched it up.
"Weddings," he muttered, smoothing his hands up her calves as she straddled him.
"You mean how they secretly turn you on," she teased, laughing as she pressed her lips to his.
Turn on?
No.
Scared?
Yes.
Annoyed?
Very much.
Hated?
More than anything.
Well, until this point of the night.
The first wedding that came after Johnny and Lulu's had been no less than a week after their engagement announcement, and, of course, everyone spent the entire night congratulating him. He got really pissed off again, and Elizabeth got really upset and apologized about a thousand times over, and it wasn't until she dragged him to the coatroom and dropped to her knees that he decided to forgive her.
Clearly, this F.E. had its perks.
Because after that, they usually ended up in some compromising position at ever single wedding, and they'd almost done it in a church, until Elizabeth's morals got the best of her, and she pulled him out to the car.
Tonight was going to be no different.
"You know," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the door – at least one of them was paying attention to how in plain sight they really were. "I don't think we'd last through a wedding and a reception. And people notice when the bride and groom disappear."
"Not my fault," he replied, playing with the strap of her dress as he brushed his lips over her shoulder. "You've got to stop wearing silk." She laughed, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. "And I'd have a nice, expensive, open bar just so everyone would get smashed and we could sneak off."
"Oh, really?" she challenged, her voice muffled against his neck. She pulled back to look at him, grinning with amusement. "I thought you said you wanted a BYOB wedding because everyone you know is an alcoholic?"
"Things change," he shrugged, slipping his hand up the skirt of her dress. He groaned when he slipped a finger under her garter, hating her for wearing the damned things because she knew what they did to him.
"Does this mean I get to have my chocolate fountain back?" she asked, sighing her approval as his hand roamed over her thighs.
Elizabeth.
Garter.
Chocolate fountain.
"You can have whatever you want," he replied, leaning forward to take heris mouth in hiers.
"Perv," she muttered, sliding her hands around his neck as she kissed him back. She didn't even fight him when he unsnapped the garter and slid a finger in her underwear, no longer caring that they were out on the terrace for anyone who came outside to see.
Elizabeth.
She so loved him.
He loved garters.
And lace.
And silk.
And chocolate fountains.
What if she really did want to get married?
She broke the kiss long enough to catch her breath and reach for the glass of champagne he'd grabbed. Grinning, he fought with the lace of her underwear and the silk of her dress. At least she'd get all drunk and silly, and this F.E. stuff wouldn't matter for the rest of the night, which was perfect since he'd be too busy taking advantage of her.
