A/N I own nothing, all characters belong to DC and Warner Bros.
Thank you for all the reviews:D
Vic fidgeted uncomfortably from where he was standing, eying the large crowd wearily.
Despite being on the news every night, Vic was not very comfortable with getting a lot of attention. Standing up here was making him feel awkward and out of place. The good thing, however, was that all eyes were drawn to the groom instead of him. A frown flashed across his face as he realized that was the only good thing about today.
Today, Helena was marrying a smart, wealthy, attractive man who she loved very much.
A man who wasn't him.
He fought back a sigh and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His beautiful Helena was marrying the love of her life, and he was merely the best man.
The revelation left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He cast a glance at Roger looking painfully handsome in his charcoal black suit, oblivious to how fortunate he was to be marrying his Helena.
The soft sound of music jolted him out of his trance as Vic focused his attention to the isle, Ollie and Dinah beginning to walk down it slowly. Q knew it would take a few more minutes before Helena herself did; perhaps at this very moment she was having doubts about this entire thing.
A rather large crowd had turned up for the wedding, many of the guests being members of the five families in Gotham. Had it been any other day Huntress would have had them locked up and beaten before they could say 'Mama mia!', but this was a very special occasion.
He knew the families, particularly her own family members, badgered Helena about when she would marry and produce more Bertinelli's. The question of who could be honored with such a mighty task was often questioned, but there was no better man for the job than Roger Munroe.
Born into a pure Italian family, Roger had quickly shown signs of promise and intelligence. He went to an incredible college in Rome and graduated top of his class before moving on to become a wealthy stock trader. A rich, attractive man with pure Italian blood and the possibility of connection was more than welcomed into the family, proving even further that Roger was the type of man Helena needed.
Vic turned his attention back to the ceremony.
Five more couples followed Ollie and Dinah down the isle, preceded by the flower girl (Helena's four year-old niece) and the ring barer (her two year-old cousin). In Vic's modest opinion the entire thing was moderately pointless, but who was he to judge?
After what seemed like an eternity the crowd rose from their seats, craning their necks for a glance at Helena. Vic looked up slowly and felt his jaw drop.
Helena's dress was simple yet gorgeous, decked out in a strapless floor-length gown she was uncharacteristically angelic. Her every step radiated beauty. His eyes latched onto her flawless face, taking in her every feature. To his surprise she was wearing make-up, and though she didn't need it, it made her look even more stunning.
Her ebony hair was drawn into a bun perched on her head, the long see-through veil falling towards the floor. Draped on her arm, no matter how much she wished it had been her actual father, was Bruce Wayne. It seemed suiting that the man who Huntress viewed as a father figure would act as one on such an important occasion, and after quite a lot of persuasion by both Helena and Diana, Bruce reluctantly complied.
Despite the fact the entire service seemed to take years, it was as if only seconds had gone by until Helen was at the altar, smiling at Roger like he hung the moon and stars.
Vic looked at them silently, wondering how in the world he'd ended up over here instead of where he belonged by her side. Deep down Q knew he had only himself to blame, but that did little to ease the aching pain in his chest. Question absently cast a look at Oliver Queen standing next to him, watching the Emerald Archer wink and mouth things he regretted seeing to the giggling Dinah Lance-Queen.
"-Why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." The priest rambled on.
Vic bit his tongue to keep himself in check. No way could he blurt out his emotions now and embarrass Helena like that. She would never forgive him.
Q listened intently at the promises Roger was expected to make in order to marry Helena, mentally promising himself, if given the opportunity, he'd do them just as well. Roger flashed his movie star smile at Helena and murmured, "I do."
The priest gave him a slight nod and turned to Helena, beginning to ask her the same set of questions. Helena smiled enthusiastically, happily rattling off her vows with tears of joy swelling up in her eyes.
Vic felt like he was going to be sick.
"And do you, Helena Bertinelli, take this man, Roger Munroe, to be your lawfully wedded husband as long as you both shall live?"
Vic's eyes shot towards her, studying her face. This was it, what he needed. Just the slightest hints of hesitation, the smallest glance in his direction, any hint that just the slightest bit of his feelings were returned. He wanted, no, he needed her to give him at least that; just the smallest token of hope.
But there was nothing, not even a fraction of a glance in his direction.
"I do."
Dread began to seep through him as the priest declared they were married, horror as they sealed the promise with a kiss. That should have been him up there, promising to take care of Helena. He should have been the groom, not the damn best man.
She wasn't his, but... She looked so incredibly happy, much more cheerful than he could ever remember seeing her. Everything about her radiated joy, from her eyes to her smile.
How could he take that away from her?
Swallowing his pride, he took a wobbly step forward and grabbed Roger by the shoulder as they headed out to leave. "Roger!'
The brunette turned to stare at him in bewilderment, "Yes?"
"Promise me..." He struggled to find the right words, voicing his favor in a manner that made sense. "Promise me that you'll take care of her."
The new husband smiled at him. "Of course I will, Vic. I'll treat her like a queen, in and out of bed."
Q forced a smile on his face. "Thank you." He muttered, feeling slightly better with the knowledge Helena would be properly cared for and appreciated.
Even if he wasn't the one making her feel that way.
"V-Vic?"
Q stared at Helena in disbelief trying to remember what the hell had happened to make them end up in such an inappropriate situation.
He'd been having a wonderful dream about them in a log cabin in the mountains, alone and lost in each other's arms. They'd been kissing intently and removing each other's clothes, barely controlling themselves as they fumbled around.
He'd felt Helena place her hands on his chest, making him smile and pull her down for a kiss. Only when he'd opened up his eyes she'd been pressed on top of him looking dumbfounded, his head aching and allowing him to realize this wasn't a dream.
Which also meant that he was completely screwed.
"I-I'm so sorry!" He blurted out, turning red in the face.
"Me to!" Helena stammered, equally embarrassed. "I came into check on you, I swear to God!"
The kiss had been quick, sloppy, and not entirely consensual. In all honesty it was more of an unanticipated banging of teeth than something you would see in a romantic comedy, not that Vic cared. Waking up to find himself actually kissing Helena had been wonderful, but judging by the mortified look on her face the feeling was far from mutual.
"Why?"
"Because you were making all these weird sounds and you had a fever earlier so I thought that maybe, I don't know, you were dying or something!"
"I was not dying, I was simply having a very, ah, enjoyable dream."
"I could see that." Helena chuckled, her embarrassment beginning to leave her. "I thought you were possessed by a demon from the way you kept groaning and gripping your poor sheets."
"...Thank you." Vic muttered slowly, mortified Helena had seen him at such a private time. "Sorry if I somehow offended you."
"How would you having a sex dream offend me?"
"I don't know; women are strange about things such as this." Vic explained. "Some women find it degrading."
"Some women don't shave, but that doesn't make it any less gross." Helena shrugged.
"Not in France."
"And do you find it attractive?"
"No." He admitted with a light grin.
"Good." A mischievous grin fell onto her lovely face. "So...who were you thinking of that made you kiss me?"
"...Do you remember that amazing woman I was telling you about? Her." Q replied honestly while still managing to hide the complete truth.
"Am I ever going to find out who this mystery-woman is?"
"Perhaps."
Helen laughed at his vague answer, but it quickly turned into a frown. "...Do you mind if I get off your lap now?"
"What? Oh, of course." He muttered as she slid off him, wishing she hadn't forgotten the way they were seated.
"It's okay." She assured him, nibbling her lip. "Vic, why did you kiss me?"
Q tried to imagine what it would be like if he told Helena he loved her more than anything. How bad could she honestly react? After all, he'd kissed the woman and she hadn't broken his face. On the other hand, she was under the impression he'd done it out of delusion brought on by a fever and an erotic dream.
Maybe it was best to keep it that way.
"As I said before, I was having a dream, and when I woke up I thought I was still in it. Didn't even occur to me you were you, you know."
"Really?" Helena blinked. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"It's okay." He assured her. "It was nice, actually."
Helena raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Seriously? That was awful! Jesus, we gotta get you out more so you can figure out what a good kiss actually is."
Vic gulped quietly, was kissing him really that terrible? He sincerely doubted he was a phenomenal kisser, but awful? Had she really felt nothing? "You weren't exactly the greatest kisser I've ever met, either."
"Because I was unprepared." Helena said dismissively. "Trust me, I'm a fantastic kisser. Just ask Roger."
"Roger, eh?" He looked at her wearily. "How are things going with you two?"
The brightening on Helena's face told him all he needed to know. "Better, a lot better. At first I thought he was bullshitting me, but then he started to really try to make me happy. He's coming home tonight after a business trip, you know."
"Kids must be happy to have him home." Vic commented, still thinking of Helena's lips on his own.
"Definitely." Helena sighed happily. "They miss him like crazy when he's away, I mean I can only fill in for him so much."
"Well I'm glad you two are finally done working out your problems." Vic lied.
"You and me both." Murmured Helen, placing the back of he hand against his forehead to see if his temperature had gone away. "Hm, you don't feel warm anymore. Do you feel any better?"
"Yes, no doubt due to your fretful mothering." Q smirked.
"Shut up." The Italian-American laughed, playfully slapping his arm. "You should be grateful, not sarcastic."
"Sorry, mother."
"You're an ungrateful smartass, you know that." Helen scowled. "I have to go, Roger should be coming home soon and I don't want to be late."
"Are you sure you have to go? I could make you dinner as a repayment." He offered.
"Oh, now that I'm leaving you're sweet." Helen snorted, bending down and giving him a hug goodbye. "I'll have to pass tonight, but don't think I won't remember it in the long run."
"The thought never crossed my mind." Vic assured her as she turned to leave.
He wished she'd stayed.
"-Then the waiter just kept looking at me like I was insane, so I kept trying to tell him why the joke was funny, but he didn't get it." Roger rolled his eyes. "Teenagers, thank God we don't have any."
"Just a pre-teen." Helen laughed in agreement. "God, you have no idea how great it feels having you home."
"You wouldn't believe how good it feels to be home. I swear, I love my job but the miles they make me log are ridiculous."
"Aw, poor baby got to go to Mexico for a week and had to do a little work. My heart bleeds." Helena smirked sarcastically.
"Touché. So what did you do while I was away?"
"Not much." Helena admitted. "Graded papers, taught at the school, patrolled, took care of the kids...Oh, and Vic since he was sick."
"Couldn't he take care of himself?"
"I honestly don't know, maybe if he would just rest instead of insisting on working all the time he could."
"Man's more of a workaholic than I am." Roger snorted. "But at least I'm getting paid."
"True, but we get to go all around the world and beat the crap out of people without getting sued." Helen rebutted.
"If that's what you like." Roger muttered wearily.
"I do." Helena murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's a part of me."
"I know." Roger sighed, giving her a kiss. "But that doesn't mean I like it. Well, the costume's awesome, but that's about it."
Helena laughed and turned her attention back to the suitcase thrown haphazardly onto the couple's bed. "Pervert. Ugh, would it kill you to put something away for once."
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes and began to unpack the large container of luggage, pulling out an array of shirts, pants, and other necessities. "You always pack such exciting things."
"Hey! What were you expecting, sombreros and tacos?"
Helena ignored his comment and continued unpacking. Boring, boring, boring, bo-What the hell? Her fingers brushed against the lacy red fabric, confusion written all over her face as she pulled out a silky thong.
What. The. Hell.
Keeping her voice steady she asked, "What the hell is this?"
"What's what?" He frowned, turning around only to have the article of clothing, if you could even call it that, shoved in his face.
"This! What the hell is it?"
"Um, your thong?"
"My thong? Oh not it's not, I know my clothing and I do not own this!" Fury was beginning to pump through her. "Well? Who's is it!"
"What do you mean 'who's'? I bought it for you!" He exclaimed.
Helena's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Cut the bullshit, who's is it?"
"Yours! I bought it for you in Mexico, honest!"
"Why do I doubt that?"
"I don't know, probably out of guilt!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Helen demanded.
"Oh come on, you hang out with Vic all the time. I see the way he makes puppy-dog eyes at you when you're together, the man's hot for you! Do you seriously expect me to believe you're 'just friends' or that there was never anything between you two?"
"There wasn't! Vic is one of my closest friends, Roger, we've never done anything and he does not have the hots for me!"
"Well it sure as hell seems like it, and with you two always acting so chummy can you blame me for being suspicious?" He rubbed his temple in contemplation. "Look, I don't know, maybe you liked him for a little while or you two did something after we got married and you feel bad about it which is why you think I'm cheating on you."
"We never did anything!" Helena cried before she remembered the kiss. Did that even count? Vic had been half-asleep, and she hadn't felt anything but surprised.
Maybe he was right and it was just guilt.
"Look, I bought you that thong as a present from Victoria's Secret, okay? I promise." He took her hands in his, kissing them. "I love you, Helena. You know I'd never do anything like that."
Her gaze softened, "I know."
"Good." He murmured, giving her another kiss. "I'm going to go spend some time with the kids now, okay?"
"Fine." Helen muttered as he left, eying the thong on the bed. Roger was probably right about the guilt-thing; there wasn't anything going on between him and another woman.
Was there?
A/N Review please!