Disclaimer: Definitely not mine, hit or miss a few characters here and there.
Author's Note: Don't worry, I'll continue this. This is just a small [granted, large] piece I've been working on while ironing out some kinks with Distance. I felt you guys deserved a larger piece (even if it's in sections).
Summary: Let's just say Oscar Vega's father gets remarried - yet again...and Angie and Oscar attend the wedding together - yet again. Needless to say, it's a little AU.
"Uh, Detective Vega? This came for you while you were out," Lucas announced as his colleagues entered the bullpen and were headed for their desks. Holding out a small cream colored envelope toward Vega, he looked on questioningly as Vega let the envelope hang for a moment in the space between them. Furrowing his brow, Lucas spoke up again; "Detective Vega?"
Propping himself up on his desk with one hand, Vega stared intently at the envelope dangling from its position between Lucas' fingertips. Inhaling deeply, Vega stood up straight before gently taking the offending object from his associate and let it flutter into the waste basket beside his desk and turning back toward the evidence board behind him. Running his fingers across his beard, he blindly reached out for his chair before spinning it toward the board as well and falling gracefully into the seat.
Curiously watching the scene before her, Angie frowned as she watched her partner, but wisely chose to remain quiet. Turning in her own chair toward her computer, she stole a glance in his direction and noted how the scowl deepened the lines upon his face. For a moment, the only noise to be heard was the soft clicking of the keys as she input some new information into the records database as she followed a hunch. Her fingers paused over the keys momentarily as she snuck a peek in his direction once more.
"It's nothing, Angie. Don't worry about it," Vega spoke softly without moving his eyes from where they were trained on the information before him.
Angie swept a hand through her blonde curls as she turned to face her partner more fully. The muted squeal of the chair's wheels drew his attention toward her as she glided across the void between them, watching her snatch the envelope from its resting place atop the other trash. Sweeping a delicate fingernail beneath the seal, Angie opened the envelope before removing the contents within in it. Smiling sympathetically, Angie brought her eyes to his before placing the articles on the corner of his desk.
"You can't ignore this, Oscar," Angie finally spoke up quietly.
"I can't?" Oscar questioned abruptly, spinning in his chair toward his own computer. Sliding his glasses up the ridge of his nose, he brought his right hand back down and swept the envelope and its contents back over the edge of his desk; paying little attention as to whether the items landed in the waste basket.
With lightning fast reflexes, Angie snatched the papers before they had a chance to land in the waste basket once more. Clutching the items tightly in her right hand, Angie laid her left hand across his forearm and stroked gently. At this point, she didn't care who saw them. "Oscar," she began, "you don't mean that. You'll go and have a good time. Okay, so maybe not the greatest time, but you'll perform your duties, congratulate the happy couple, and head on your merry way. See? It will be a piece of cake; in fact, you should enjoy said piece of cake when you go."
Peering down at his arms crossed in front of his keyboard, Oscar sighed softly as he glanced over toward the bullpen's entrance and back toward Angie. "Fine," he uttered so quietly that Angie wasn't sure if he had actually said anything at all. "On one condition…" he trailed off.
"Yes," she replied, not needing him to continue. Lifting her hand from his wrist, she pointed her pointer finger in his face; "Yes, but this means I get your piece of cake, too," smirking to him as she replied.
Smiling gently, Oscar nodded before turning back to the file that lay in front of him.
Checking her makeup one last time in the mirror, Angie smiled as she saw her partner rounding the tail end of the car to come around and open her door. With a soft click, the door swung wide to reveal a strong hand reaching down toward her own open palm. Placing her hand within her partner's she swung her legs over the threshold and allowed him to escort her out of the vehicle and waited patiently as he closed the door behind her and slipped the valet the key.
Smoothing her black gown and pulling her coat tighter around her, Angie came to an abrupt halt at the end of the pathway and stood in awe at the view of the grand structure that sprawled out before her. Speechless, she turned gaping toward her partner, where at least Oscar had the decency to look somewhat apologetic.
"Okay – I mean, really? When I asked if your father had reserved a country club for the wedding, you really weren't joking when you said he didn't need to," Angie finally spoke.
Oscar shrugged sheepishly before extending his elbow toward her to escort her up the long illuminated pathway. Angie gently looped her arm through his as they started their journey toward the elaborate estate. A doorman appeared behind the opening door as Angie stepped through the entrance while taking in the ornate trimmings garnishing the entry way.
"Holy sh – " she caught herself just in time as a distinguished gentleman in coattails appeared all of a sudden at her side.
"Good evening, Mr. Vega; Ms…?" the butler greeted them.
"Flynn," Oscar supplied. "Good evening, Charlie."
The young doorman returned from closing the door behind them and offered to take their coats. Slowly sliding the coat from its position, Angie's eyelids briefly fluttered closed as Oscar's calloused fingertips brushed over her neck and across her shoulders before passing it to the young attendant.
Charlie, an amiable older man, smiled politely at Oscar. "Your father will be very pleased to see you sir. You can find him in his suite. May I escort you to your seat, Ms. Flynn?"
"That's all right, Charlie. I'll escort Ms. Flynn to her seat this evening. Thank you, though," Oscar answered in return. Charlie took his cue to turn back toward his station to await the arrival of other guests. Shortly thereafter, an elderly couple entered the estate, and Charlie and his young shadow went back to work.
Taking a moment to appreciate her surroundings and then turning to face her partner, Angie blinked widely before bringing her eyes back to meet his. Oscar smirked as he watched Angie attempt to acclimate herself to the new environment. Shoving his fists into his pants pockets, he waited for Angie to speak first.
"Wow," she breathed. "Oscar, I don't want to say that I had no idea, but I don't think this is at all what I was expecting."
"I'm sorry," he offered quietly. "If this makes you uncomfortable –"
Angie interrupted him before he could continue. "No! No, not uncomfortable," she answered with a small smile. "Just – unexpected, I suppose."
"Oh. Okay, then. Um…would you like to find your seat for the evening?" Oscar asked nervously.
Sliding her hand down his arm, Angie gently pulled his right hand from its haven and laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly for a brief second. "Absolutely," she smiled. "Please; lead the way."
After spending a few quick moments getting Angie situated, Oscar begrudgingly had to take leave in order to find his father. Knocking quietly on the bedroom suite's door, Oscar waited a short moment before hearing his father invite him in from the other side.
"Ah, yes! Oscar! Thanks for coming," his father greeted him.
"Yes, sir. Any time," Oscar replied, staring intently at his polished shoes before looking up to his father.
"Now, now. Stop that," his father replied. "I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm your father for God's sake; the least you can do is act like you're happy to see me."
"Sorry, sir," Oscar grimaced as the words left his lips. "And I am; I'm just – just a little shocked I suppose. But I want you to be happy, so..." he trailed off.
"Thank you, son," the older man replied. "I'd like to think that Celeste will do just that."
Nodding more to himself than his father, Oscar briefly wondered whether he should bother to commit this one's name to memory. By the time he memorized the last three, the ink had been dry on the divorce papers. Sighing softly, he met his father's gaze once more.
"So, um – how is this going to work?" Oscar questioned.
"Well, son, you have always been my best man, as you well know," his father began. "Celeste and I figured we'd try something a little different this time. I hope you don't feel put out, but we were kind of hoping to keep this occasion a bit more…intimate, shall we say."
Oscar bit back a small laugh; intimate he scoffed to himself. Only his father would call inviting over one hundred of his friends and colleagues intimate. His father smiled before continuing his explanation of the night's events.
"With that in mind, Celeste thought it would be nice if we didn't have a wedding party. You know, maid of honor, best man, the whole nine yards," he father finished. Oscar mentally noted how he had said 'maid of honor,' not 'matron'. That typically meant that bride-to-be was ten years his junior, let alone another thirty years behind his father, the groom-to-be. And they say love isn't blind, he mentally noted.
"I can respect that," Oscar began, being of the firm opinion that he actually preferred it this way. He always figured the less attention on him, the better. "So…I guess that means it will just be the three of you up there?" referring to his father, the new bride, and priest.
"Yep!" his father replied jovially. "Less chance of you losing the ring, too," his father chuckled to himself.
"Okay…" he responded in turn. "I guess congratulations are in order then," Oscar answered as he offered his outstretched hand towards his father for a handshake.
Knocking the hand to one side, Oscar's father reached around his son and engulfed him in a large embrace, slapping him on the back loudly. Oscar flinched at the contact before bringing his own hands up to gently embrace his father awkwardly. With a loud sigh, his father moved away from him to snatch the bow tie resting on the dresser to his left.
"Now then – do you think you've got a minute to help your old man?" his father spoke with a large grin across his face and strip of fabric hanging from his fingertips.
Oscar reached over to take the tie with a slight smile; "Sure…Dad."
As Angie swept her eyes across the room once more, she was surprised at the number of people in attendance. A large part of her just assumed that after multiple marriages, one would prefer a smaller affair; something less…spectacle-like. Apparently, she had assumed wrong.
Amidst the whispers and people watching, Angie had gathered that the bride-to-be was quite young. Well, probably still younger than her at least. She also noted that Oscar had very little family, if any at all, in attendance. The attendants on his father's side of the room, where she presently sat, appeared to be mostly associates and former business partners of his father. She was willing to bet that there wasn't a single one amongst them that could tell her something remotely personal about their so-called friend. Oh, well, she thought.
Not that she had ever given much thought to her own nonexistent wedding, or subsequent marriage for that matter, but Angie decided then that it would never look like this. While the home and its furnishings were beautiful and extravagant, Angie still couldn't shake the feeling that none of the items held any sentimental value. The thought alone made Angie feel slightly suppressed and much like the spectators had assembled for this union in a gallery of sorts; high price tags, a no touch policy, that sort of thing.
Distracted by a slight commotion at the back of the room, Angie shifted in her seat in time to see Oscar's father slide down the length of the far wall to greet the priest at the front of the room whilst stopping every few steps to shake a dozen hands. While this wasn't the first time she had ever seen the older Vega, she was struck by the stark contrast between father and son. As she began to turn back toward the front of the room, Angie was startled to see a figure sliding into the aisle seat next to hers and attributed her uneasiness to the foreign nature of the situation.
Turning to face the stranger more fully, she came face to face with the sheepish grin of her partner. Shooting him a questioning glance, Angie's words died on her lips as the music commenced and she took her cue to remain silent – which only lasted a few short seconds.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, leaning over toward Oscar.
"Attending my father's wedding. What are you doing?" he replied dryly, never taking his eyes away from action in front of him.
Mouth gaping, Angie paused for a moment before turning back toward the front of the room just in time to see the bride's father pass her off to her future groom. As the priest invited the guests to take their seats, Angie took the opportunity to pinch her partner, smirking as he quickly pulled his arm away to avoid any injury. "You know what I mean," she whispered.
"I do," Oscar replied out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll explain later. Now be quiet. I'd hate to be escorted from my own father's wedding because someone couldn't behave themselves. We haven't even had our cake yet."
Shaking her head in admonition, Angie returned her focus to the bride and groom as they exchanged vows before friends and family. While she definitely wasn't keen on the idea of being married multiple times over, Angie couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy as she watched the happy couple – even if it turned out to momentary bliss. She knew she appeared bitter and jaded when it came to the concept of love, but there was more to her than the gun and the badge. She was human, too, she thought, blinking back the moisture in her eyes and concentrating on the vows being exchanged.
Immediately following the ceremony, the priest had invited the guests to join the happy couple in the courtyard for a lively reception. Angie took a moment to excuse herself to the powder room while the other guests milled about, chatting amicably amongst themselves while locating their assigned seats under the enormous pavilion stretched across the manicured lawn.
Emerging from the estate, Angie stopped at the top of the balcony's stairs as she took in the scene in front of her. Dozens of men and women crisscrossed the lush grass as they moved to their respective tables under the twinkling luminaries suspended from the pavilion's frame. Searching the crowd for her partner's face, she was once again astonished at the number of guests in attendance.
Catching a glimpse of Oscar on the far edge of the pavilion, she watched as he leaned a shoulder against a leg of the structure and took a long drink from the tumbler in his hand. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she smiled at him as he looked up in time to see her carefully descend the flight of steps. Weaving his way through the crowd, Oscar picked up another tumbler from the waiter passing by on his way to greet his partner at the edge of the tent. Nodding in appreciation, Angie sipped from the small straw in her glass before lowering it back down to her palm.
"So, partner, did you figure out where we're supposed to be seated?" she questioned.
Nodding his head toward a slightly obscured table toward the back of the tent, he smirked as he replied, "I managed to snag a couple of seats over there."
Frowning at him, Angie waited a moment before slipped her arm through his unassumingly. "You know, I may be wrong, but being the son of the groom, I would think that you'd be required to just a tad closer to the special couple," she whispered conspiratorially.
Leisurely escorting her through the crowd, Oscar glanced back to her and responded, "Amazingly enough, you would be wrong. You see, I have it on good authority that Mr. and Mrs. Benz can't see or hear too well. Being the considerate man that I am, I graciously guided them to their seats, which may or may not have been ours – originally. Therefore, with two seats left available at this delightful table back here, I figured we could claim them."
Arriving at the table, Oscar gently pulled one of the empty chairs and politely invited her to take a seat before pulling his own chair out to be seated himself. With a sigh, Oscar raised his eyebrows in her direction before being distracted by an elderly man in glasses seated directly across from him.
"Oliver?" the older man asked.
Angie was careful not to choke as she sipped on the drink in her hand, gently setting the glass down on the table before settling her right hand across her lips to stifle a laugh.
"Uh, it's Oscar, Mr. Davis," Oscar replied graciously.
"I knew it was you! How in the hell are you, my boy?" the gentleman asked loudly.
"I'm, uh – I'm fine; well. And you, Mr. Davis?" he asked.
"Oh, fine as a hair on a grasshopper. And who might this lovely young lady be, Oliver?"
Oscar glanced down at the table's centerpiece and pursed his lips before replying, "My partner, sir. Angie Flynn, this is Henry Davis; one of my father's former business associates."
"Oh, please, darlin' – my friends all call me Hank," the man offered. "So…partner, eh? I'll never understand why you young folks don't just call each other by what you really are. Wife, girlfriend, whatever. It don't matter none. But no, now you folks just go around calling each other 'partner,' like it's more respectful or somethin'. Not me; no sir, I just think it sounds impersonal," the man wrapped up his rant with a sigh. "Damn fools, think you know somethin' about treatin' each other right."
Scratching his left hand across his bearded chin, Oscar propped his cheek upon the hand as he turned toward Angie with a raised eyebrow and amused smirk. Gently nudging his right shin under the table with her the toe of her shoe, Angie dropped her gaze to stare intently at her lap while reaching out to pinch his right thigh. Before she could secure her fingertips, Oscar deflected her attempts by squeezing his fingers around her own before loosening them once again, leaving his palm over her hand as she splayed her fingers across his knee.
As expected the gourmet meal had been fantastic. Eventually, Oscar was summoned toward the front to say a few words. His speech had been concise, yet heartfelt; a task with which Angie could tell he had struggled, but figured no one else could really discern. Public attention was not something of which her partner took a great liking.
From her seat, Angie could see the new bride smiling radiantly at her father as he spun her around the dance floor amongst an assortment of other couples. Smiling gently to herself, Angie's attention was interrupted by a light touch settling upon her shoulder. Peering up to the face connected to the hand, Angie was pleasantly surprised to see Oscar's father.
"Mr. Vega! Congratulations, sir!" she proclaimed from her seat with a wide smile.
"Oh, shush. You too?" he questioned.
"I'm sorry, sir?" Angie asked, not quite understanding his remark.
The older Vega simply shook his head before settling into the seat beside her. "Nothing. Well, okay – not nothing, per se. It's just that Oscar does the same thing; you know, the 'sir' thing."
Angie smiled apologetically at her new neighbor. "I guess old habits die hard," she supplied after a brief moment of silence passed between them.
"Hmm," the man hummed. "Maybe."
Angie frowned, "No? You don't think so?"
The older man sighed before looking off into the distance. "Sometimes I wonder…I suppose it hasn't been easy, but does he have to make this so damn hard?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't believe I follow," she replied.
A heavy pause hung in the air before the older Vega responded. "I loved his mother, you know. I truly did. But with her gone, it wasn't exactly easy, and especially hard for us to…connect. After all, he always did take after her. So what was I supposed to do? I wasn't looking to erase her from our lives, or even replace her. Was I supposed to be alone for the rest of my life?" the older man sighed.
"I'm sure that's not what he expected from you, Mr. Vega," Angie answered, searching for any sign of her partner throughout the crowded tent.
"Oh? No? Well, it certainly feels like it at times," he responded. "Okay, Ms. Flynn; seeing as you seem to know my son so well, you tell me then. What did he expect from me?"
Elegantly rising to stand, Angie gently pushed her chair in and brushed her small hand across the man's shoulder. "I think that's a conversation best left between the two of you, sir. But for what it's worth, I don't think it was this," she remarked as she gestured with her hand at the grand affair.
"I gave him everything he ever could have possibly wanted!" he whispered forcefully.
"Maybe it was more about what he needed, Mr. Vega. He was a scared and sad young boy once, and I'd hazard a guess to say that a memory of that boy is still living deep within him," Angie recognized out loud.
The older man's eyebrows furrowed as her words sunk in. With a heavy sigh, he stood to face Angie and quirked his lips as he wrestled with his thoughts. Finally, he reached out and firmly grasped her knotted hands within his own large ones.
"You're good for him, Ms. Flynn, in ways that I can't pretend to understand, so I won't try. But what I will ask of you is that you simply don't give up on him, move on from him, or even leave him behind."
Although the man's comment caught her off guard, Angie had to be honest with herself. After everything that she had been through with her partner, there was a piece of her heart and mind that thought she could possibly protect him better if he didn't have to clean up after her. In her mind, she wasn't exactly a prize, which was part of the reason she thought that detachment would be beneficial – she couldn't let herself hold him back, or even bring him down.
Regardless, the process of extricating herself from his life came with a lot of little strings attached. It was easy to use excuses like the job and Manny to keep herself coming back to Oscar; but if those were truly the reasons, she asked herself, would she be here tonight? Angie understood early on in her line of work that trust was the foundation to any solid partnership – especially theirs. Over the course of time, she'd learned that trust was hardly suitable to describe their relationship. While she could trust him not to reveal her insecurities to others, she could trust him even more not to push her to reveal her own secrets until the time was right for her and she was comfortable; the depth of knowledge it took for someone to know you better than you knew yourself.
"If you'll excuse me, Ms. Flynn, I believe it is time for me to grace the dance floor once again with my presence. I do hope you'll save one for me, yes?" the man next to her interrupted her musings.
Smiling radiantly at the man, Angie squeezed his hand in hers. "Absolutely, Mr. Vega. It's been a pleasure, and I'll check in with you later."
And with that, the older Vega weaved his way through the thick crowd before disappearing completely. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Angie looked around for any sign of her missing partner. Unable to place him from her low position amongst the guests of the party, Angie decided that the proper course of action would be to seek out higher ground to assist in her search. Reaching the outer edge of the tent, Angie momentarily paused before heading for the courtyard staircase that led back up onto the balcony above.
Oscar had taken a momentary reprieve inside the estate for a modest retreat away from the boisterous wedding guests, which ultimately turned into an extended stay as he wandered the lengths of the corridors in search of tranquility. With a long blink, he attempted to clear his tired eyes as he brought his eyes to rub them carefully and pinch the bridge of his nose. Glancing down at his watch, he noted the time and realized that his trip through the halls had lasted longer than he expected.
Moving toward balcony doorway, Oscar sighed deeply before pushing the door open and allowing the din of the party below to ascend to him. Clicking the door in place behind him, he wandered toward the edge of the balcony and leaned over to prop his elbows on the railing beneath him. Every one of the guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, some chatting animatedly about this and that, while others were dancing enthusiastically on the dance floor. Other than the songs for the first dance and father/bride dance, the majority of the DJ's playlist consisted of pulsing beats that quickly induced headaches, or at least did little to keep the dull throb at bay.
Lifting himself up and away from the railing, Oscar gently brushed his elbows before sauntering across the balcony toward a stone bench resting in the far corner. Falling down with a heavy sigh, Oscar turned so he faced the dark nighttime sky and began to study the constellations as they littered the vast expanse above him as he attempted to drown out the noise around him. He was so caught up in ignoring the world around him that he never heard his intruder approach, or softly call his name.
As Angie rounded the corner of the balcony, she sensed that she was no longer alone. Quietly moving forward across the elaborate terrace, she squinted to make out a figure in the distance against the far end of the flat surface. She continued her forward momentum and let her feet carry her to the bench where her partner sat, facing away from the commotion of the wedding party below. With a large sigh, she watched as Oscar's head bowed and shoulders sagged, and she envisioned a heavy weight settling across the width of his shoulders.
Gently sitting upon the bench to his left, Angie sat quietly as she let the wave of silence wash over her. After a few minutes, she spoke without turning to face her partner. "Tell me about her," she whispered softly.
Lifting his head slightly, Oscar turned to face his partner before turning back to shadowy horizon in front of them. Inhaling deeply, Oscar paused before speaking; "How'd you know?"
Angie calmly shrugged her shoulders and then shivered in the cool night's breeze.
Shrugging his suit jacket off of his own broad shoulders, Oscar lifted the garment and draped it over her slight frame next to him. Trailing his hands down the length of her arms, he squeezed just above her elbows before returning his clasped hands to his lap. Fidgeting with his flexed fingers, Oscar attempted to put his thoughts into words.
"Kind; compassionate. Clever. Beautiful…God, Ang, she was radiant. But she had this peaceful way about her, so unassuming," Oscar started quietly. Smiling wistfully, he turned toward his partner as she placed her palm over his restless digits, instantaneously stilling their movement.
"Kind of like you, huh?" Angie smirked in his direction.
Scoffing to himself, Oscar vehemently shook his head. "No, no – not like me."
Squeezing his fingers, Angie willed Oscar to look at her as she lowered her head to better look him in the eye. "Yes, partner – a helluva a lot like you," she remarked, speaking softly to him.
"She would have loved you, Ang," he spoke up after a beat of silence. "I wish you could have known her."
At the unsolicited compliment, a wave of warmth washed over her as she tried not to blush. Lowering her head down to Oscar's shoulder, Angie smiled gently as she said, "I feel like I already do – and, I think I can safely say that I know I would have adored her."
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