I do not own X-Men anything.

You'd think I'd run out of words by now. You'd be wrong.

Reaching Out

Chapter 25: A Momentous Occasion

It was the perfect late-summer afternoon.

The hot, arid weather had been alleviated by a burst of rainstorm the day before and the grass had only just dried. Puffy, white cotton ball clouds floating lazily in the azure sky from nowhere and going to nowhere in particular. The grounds of Xavier Manor were pristine, having been professionally groomed for the occasion. Charles had also banned Alex and Kat from skeet shooting for the week before the big day to sure all the random scattered pieces of broken dishware were removed and discarded for optimum wedding day decorum.

The wedding, as per Hope's request, was going to take place outside.

As Hank had nearly no relatives, save his parents, and his friends were but the few inhabitants of Xavier Manor, the guests were not to be seated according to bride and groom but rather mixed together. Even so, the two small islands of chairs numbered no more than fifty. Nobody seemed to care. Attached to the back of each chair was a simple blue bow outlined in orange lace.

A white arch trellis had been constructed for the exchange of vows and a long white runner laid to lead the bride along her route to her groom.

The inside of Xavier Manor had also been professionally cleaned by an entire platoon of hired cleaners. It had taken an entire week.

"Been meaning to do it anyway," the master of the house had shrugged upon inquiry.

The entire structure now felt exhumed of dry, dusty abandonment and now seemed to appear waiting and ready for something. Something big. Something new.

Now Hank watched her as she walked toward him.

His Hope. A beautiful sunny smile on her lovely oval face. Warm, brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears of joy.

Her pleasant form adorned in a white wedding dress made for just her by her mother and grandmother.

It was simple and beautiful, just like her.

The modest, v-shaped bodice was edged in lace, crisscrossing her bust and encircling her with an empire waist. That laced waist that was thinly threaded with intertwining ribbons of blue and orange. Angel sleeves tipped in lace crochet drifted down just past her elbows, lending to her already ethereal appearance. The full length skirt flared slightly and near the hem was another thin lace band threaded with blue and orange ribbon.

On her feet, Hope wore white ballet slippers. In lieu of a veil, a white, flowered circlet adorned her dark hair. The make-up she wore was so subtly applied that only her natural, glowing bride beauty was apparent to those who looked upon her.

She was absolutely, undeniably beautiful.

Hank waited for her under the arch trellis, heart pounding, beast within rumbling happily.

Alex stood next to him. A single best man, suited up and dignified. Who had promised to be well-behaved and quiet.

Though for a while, Alex had been very trying. And Peter as well.

They had insisted on 'helping' him pick out his wedding attire.

"Nerds need all the assistance they can handle, man. And we're your guys."

Hank had managed to avoid the eye-searing plaid tuxedo that his most helpful friends had attempted to thrust upon him. Dodging also the blinding all-white outfits (which he informed them were actually death colors in several Asian cultures) as well as baffling baby blue and dirt brown frilled ensembles, Hank had urgently searched for something simple with a cut of dignity.

It hadn't been easy.

Peter had found a lemon yellow suit and tried to convince him to don it.

Hank had balked.

"Do you think that will actually look good?"

Peter grinned mischievously.

"Heck, no! That's why I want you to put it on, man!"

Alex had contributed by presenting him an inexplicably salmon-colored suit.

Hank had only looked at him.

"It looks like Pepto-Bismol, Alex."

Alex grinned wickedly.

"Ah come on, pink is a good color, man. But you'll find that out later . . ."

Hank had stared uncomprehendingly at him for several seconds until the intended meaning smacked him in the face and he blushed such a deep red that he appeared to be experiencing a severe sunburn. Or a stroke.

Hank had finally happened upon a plain black tuxedo with simple jacket and a long, thin tie. No cumbersome cummerbund or insanely flaring collars for him.

It fit his tall, lanky frame quite nicely.

"Now all you need is a top hat," Charles, a quiet observer until this moment, chimed in cheerfully.

Hank turned to the tailor.

"I'd like to buy this one. Now, please," he emphasized desperately.

The middle aged tailor, who had seen many grooms-to- be come and go in his many years, smiled and chuckled.

"You're lucky to have such good friends, son. They really care about you."

Yeah, right. I feel sooo lucky.

But he really kind of had.

That being said, he had somehow managed to avoid a no doubt embarrassing bachelor party by pleading the help of his wheel-chaired telepath friend.

Hope on the other hand had been swept away to a local friend's house by Chloe and Hank had barely survived the giggles and suggestive looks from his fiancé and the green eyed, pixie girl ever since they had returned.

Now, all the rest of the world was forgotten and shrank to the narrowed focal view of his beloved Hope walking toward him on the arm of her father, smiling prettily and holding a bouquet of lilies.

I see you. I remember looking up and seeing you. You, my Hope. I love you.

He hoped he would be able to say all the right words in all the right places and not stumble or falter on this their wedding day.

I can do this. I can do this.

Growl.

Thanks, Beast.

"Who gives this woman to be married?" Charles Xavier, the requested officiator, intoned.

"Her mother and I."

Hope's father kissed her cheek, nodded just a little to Hank, and sat down to next his wife. Hope meanwhile, took her place next to her maid of honor, Chloe. Those gathered resumed their seats.

And dear, dear Chuck continued.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today . . ."

Hank did not stumble or falter. He had his Hope to hold him up.

I love you, Hope.

I love you, Hank.

The hired caterers provided a small, fantastic feast within one of the dining halls of the manor.

Hank knew he actually imbibed food and drink, he just didn't know what it had been or what it had tasted like.

He only saw her.

He knew people said nice things to him and wished him well. He knew he responded appropriately.

He knew several people made toasts to the happy couple, but later he couldn't remember much of what was said.

But he only heard her melodic voice.

His parents, flown in as promised for the occasion, beamed and smiled and even danced a little to the small band hired for the evening. Though they seemed a little shell-shocked by the environment and friends in which their son now surrounded himself with.

Hank, content to watch the festivities from a distance, suddenly found himself in the presence of his newly acquired in-laws.

"We're so happy for you two, Hank."

He was drawn into a hug by Catherine who looked happy and younger herself.

"Well done, son. Now take good care of her."

Harold clapped him soundly on the back and shook his hand. Still squeezed a little tightly.

"Thank you. I will."

His Hope appeared and pulled him to the dance area for a slow dance which Hank was only prepared for because his pancake girl had refused to allow him to embarrass her.

"You helped me with math. I help you with dancing. Come here, you teddybear," she had said.

So thanks to her, he managed to refrain from falling down or stepping on his beloved wife's toes.

While Charles Xavier watched with a smile and wondered if there was a woman out there who wouldn't mind dancing with a handsome telepath in a wheelchair.

As it turned out, an attractive young woman named Amelia did.

She sat right down in his lap crossways and he spun her joyfully around the dancefloor for a few songs. Alex, feeling bold, requested a dance from Kat, who tried to hide her smile behind a smirk and danced with him anyway.

Little Kurt (shielded from judging eyes for the evening) competed with Ink to see who could pilfer the most sweets from the table and win the most dances with a certain green-eyed Chloe. Who rewarded them both with hugs and kisses. Of differing types.

Hank and Hope cut the cake and fed each other.

When Morty (whom Charles had shielded his toady appearance for the evening as well) called out from the side for Hope to cream him, she had scooped icing up and flung it good-naturedly at him. Against all possibility, he had remembered to keep his long tongue behind his thin lips and simply applauded her effort with delight.

Hope threw her flower bouquet and Chloe, without the use of her powers (mostly), caught it and turned expectantly to Ink. Who laughed and proceeded to endure much excited ribbing from Alex. Until Max (also shielded for the evening) dumped his punch cup over Alex's head to cool him off.

Hank, red-faced and stammering, removed Hope's bridal garter (how high up did she put this thing?) and sling-shotted it over his shoulder. Peter, the Quicksilver Kid, caught it at normal speed and then commenced to wear it like a sweatband for the reminder of the festivities.

Even at the grumbling behest of Alex, Charles could bring himself to neither freeze Peter for it to be removed nor use his abilities to convince the boy to remove it himself.

By request, Big Blue danced with Hope's sweater knitting, hog riding, Grandma. And then, with a little preplanned help from his slightly tipsy in-laws, produced Tom's old motorcycle and swept the thrilled elderly woman away for an easy afternoon ride to much cheering and applause of all present.

Charles had informed Hank two weeks prior that he would pay for a honeymoon to whatever destination they wished to visit. He had provided them a generous amount of spending money for their enjoyment.

"Don't tell the others," he'd confided to an astounded Hank. "Next thing you know, they'll be getting married just to get the free vacations."

Hank had laughed.

"Thank you, Charles."

And so it was that Hank McCoy and his wife Hope were bid farewell as their wedding guests blew bubbles from small single use containers at the happy couple (Alex and Peter threw their containers at Hank, laughing as they bounced off his chest) and boarded the Xavier private plane. They flew themselves to Niagara Falls for a six day, all expenses paid, honeymoon.

On the flight, Hope slyly suggested to Hank that they become members of the Mile High Club.

Hank considered this idea as she nuzzled his ear and then decided to wait until they landed to avoid crashing the plane on their wedding day.

Well, there you go. Did I do okay?

I chose Niagara Falls because that was a really popular honeymoon destination circa the 1970s.

Thanks to ChiefPam, I've Been a Labrat, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, brigid1318, and Aletta-Feather for your always loyal reviews. I myself have been less loyal today about replying to you but I am gearing up to welcome my students back to school and am struggling to get any writing done (not whining, I've played for nine weeks, yeah?) so please forgive me and I will talk to everybody this weekend. Just don't quit on my Hank because I'm being pulled away. ;)

So let's see . . . Ah, yes . . . You're going to like this next one. *smirks