He grinned, heading for the door. Keira and Jim both resisted the urge to make gagging noises, with varying levels of success, and followed out, Meatloaf shuffling his papers awkwardly, uncertain of whether to follow and eventually deciding on waiting until they were well clear.

"So," she said as they cleared the chapel, still glowing with happiness, "What did you and Jim get up to while Kelly was whipping me into shape?"

"Don't ask," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Come on. There's booze upstairs, as promised. Good shit, too."

"Can I ask how in the hell you got the fucking Tower?" She asked incredulously, glancing back at Jim with raised eyebrows, sure that he had something (if not a lot) to do with it.

Moran glanced back at Jim, too, who raised an eyebrow. "I'm hurt, Harrison. You doubt my abilities?"

"I'm still shocked. Would you prefer I wasn't in awe?" She asked, laughing.

"No," he retorted, smirking. "Be awed. Just slightly less incredulous." They headed upstairs, and opened the door to a small hall. There was an exhibit about torture in the tower, and set up on a beheading block was a small bar. Champagne, wine, scotch, vodka, mixers of all sorts. A bartender that Moran recognized from hits was waiting, as was a chef from the kitchens, standing attendant, apparently ready to take orders. "Food from anywhere in the city, or made here," Jim said, smiling. "We've got the world open to us."

"Careful, sir, I might think you're happy for us," she winked, then leaned up to kiss Sebastian's cheek again, practically glowing. "What sounds good to you, husband of mine?"

Husband. The word felt anachronistic, yet somehow it settled well on his shoulders. "Sushi. Boss, that place-"

Moriarty smirked. "I had some delivered already. Michael, if you would?" The chef bowed and left. "Everyone else? We'll place an order," Jim said, sounding quite at ease.

"Sushi sounds great," she hummed, looking around. She would have been happy with simple mac and cheese, at the moment. The chef came back a few moments later, a large platter of sushi in his hands.

Jim rolled his eyes, walking over to speak to the bartender, while Keira's eyes found a table of hor'dourves and she made a beeline. Moran caught Lorna's hand and headed for some comfortable looking couches which had been arranged, glad that he hadn't been the one moving them up gods-knew-what stairway.

She sat after a second of adjusting her dress, and wasn't shy about leaning against his side, very much looking the part of the happy bride. "How many people do you think we're displacing today?"

He shrugged, leaning forward as the chef set down sushi on the low table and then returned to Jim, who was rambling off a long order. "Who the hell knows. For all the world knows, the place is closed for emergency maintenance. Let them think what they will."

"Did you plan this place specifically, or was that Jim?" She asked, smirking slightly as the chef dutifully wrote the order at a breakneck pace, and leaning forward herself to grab a pair of chopsticks, making a beeline for salmon sashimi.

He snorts. "It was a joint effort, but mostly Jim. My knowledge of buildings extends primarily to where I can shoot from them."

She snorted around a roll in a very dignified fashion. "Where's the most high-profile place you've sniped from?"

"The Taj Mahal," he said, the flicker of s fond smile on his face at the memory. "That place was a dream. So many nooks to tuck myself into."

She laughed. "Yeah, I can imagine. Must have had to slather on the sunscreen though. Or do you not worry about it during missions?"

"Oh, I worry about it," he snorted. "Sun poisoning is not something I want to have to deal with, thank you." He reached out to pick up a small plate from a stack the chef had left, starting to load sushi up. The glint of the ring on his finger caught his attention, and he stared at it for a moment, before returning to the food acquisition.

"Sun... Poisoning? Not burn?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "What is that? Too much vitamin D?"

"Just really, really shitty sunburn," he said, through a bite of tuna roll. "Saw it plenty in Iraq. Makes you sick as hell- nausea, headache, fever, the whole shebang."

"Jeez," she said, finally tearing her gaze away from him long enough to follow his lead and gather herself a plate of her favorite sushi rolls. "Sounds like withdrawal, but maybe worse."

He shook his head. "Not worse. More like a stomach bug than anything. It goes away after a day or so. But in the field that's life or death."

She nodded a little, thoughtfully. "Interesting, anyway. Good reason to put on sunscreen, at the very least."

He rolled his eyes. "You are in that dress and we are discussing sun stroke. That seems like a horrid waste of time."

She cracked a smile, shrugging slightly. "I'm just enjoying talking to my husband. I'm very studiously ignoring your clothes, to be honest, so I can eat sushi without just jumping you."

He gave a lopsided grin, canine flashing. "What do you like better, the dagger or the cape?"

"I'm honestly having trouble deciding, really," she laughed, leaning back on the couch, bringing her plate into her lap with little regard for her dress. It was red - not likely to show too many stains - and the most important part of the day had passed already. "I love the implication of the dagger, and it's actually quite pretty, looking at it up close, but, Christ, a cape? God, I thought I at least had vanilla preferences in clothes."

"I win," Jim smirked as he sat down across from them. Moran shot him mild glare. "I'll make your appointment," the irishman drawled pleasantly.

Lorna's eyebrows shot up, and she looked between them questioningly. "What? What appointment? What bet did I unknowingly walk into?"

"I'll be getting a tattoo, no larger than ten centimeters in any direction, of his choosing," Seb said with a tired sigh.

She sputtered, eyes wide. "I.." She turned to Jim. "What are you making him get?"

"What, and ruin the surprise? I think not," Jim said gleefully. Moran rolled his eyes. "I'll remind you that anything which hurts my reputation hurts you, as well," he said dryly.

Jim smirked. "Who said it was going to be somewhere visible? It's possible that only your dear wife and I would ever see it?"

" Jim."

Moran shrugged. "Let him do what he wants," Moran said with a smirk. "Any amount of pleading is just going to goad him on."

"Wise man," Jim said, leaning forward to pick up a piece of sashimi.

She made an exasperated noise but let it go, shaking her head. "Fine. Either way, I appreciate the outfit's more unique points."

Jim scoffed. "As if I'd let him get married in anything normal. Please."

She grinned. "Pride, Jim, or just your own fashionable sensibilities?"

"Why not both?" he asked, raising his glass of champagne in an idle toast.

Keira wandered over before she could say anything else, a plate of food in her hand. "So when are you guys gonna dance, anyway?"

Moran raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with an annoyed expression. "What do you mean?"

"The wedding dance. Every wedding has a dance, at the reception. It's tradition," she rolled her eyes, ignoring his annoyance.

"This wedding is anything but traditional," Moran retorted, taking a glass of scotch the chef offered him with a nod of thanks. "And I'd like it to stay that way."

"You're just saying that because you can't dance," she shot back, smirking. Lorna also took a glass of scotch from the chef, sipping it to hide her own growing smirk.

"What gives you the impression that I can't dance, precisely?" he asked, eyeing her over his glass, expression unreadable.

"What about this doesn't give me the impression you can't dance?" She grinned, openly baiting him now.

"You've seen me fight hand-to-hand. All that strength and coordination translates. Trust me." He sipped his drink dismissively.

"It certainly translates to other things," Lorna commented, wiggling her eyebrows before popping a roll into her mouth. Keira made an exasperated noise.

"You know I'll never believe you unless you prove it, right?"

"A fact which renders me heartbroken, I assure you," Moran returned, tone drier than sand.

"So you're not going to dance with your newly wedded wife?" Lorna smirked, resting her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaning against it. "For shame, Sebastian. Why else did let Jim dress you up? Simply for me to tear it off later, with nary a picture taken?"

The sniper leveled a glare at her. "Since when do you take her side?" he asked, attempting not to sound resigned and failing.

She grinned, shrugging slightly. "I'm impartial. Plus, I can't have her thinking I'm against her no matter what, right?"

"It wouldn't be the worst thing I can imagine," he said sarcastically, though he stood.

She smirked and stood, though it was partially because Keira gave a delighted smile and turned to the sound system in the corner someone had thought to include (probably Jim, the clairvoyant bastard), plugging her phone in and taking a minute to select a good song for them to dance to. "Hell, I'm just amazed I'm finally getting an answer on the dancing mystery."

Sebastian stood, staying very still for a beat as his vision momentarily darkened and sparked. It returned a second later and he turned- steady- to Lorna. "Shall we?"

She smirked, stepping in closer to him. "Please."

He reached out, taking her hand and heading toward a more open space.

Jim watched them. They were poetic- the fullness of lust and life next to the haggard spectre of death, joining for a dance. It amused him, and stirred something deeper.

Keira finally got the music working and hurried back over to sit on the sofa, far, far away from Jim, as the wedded pair stepped into a slow ballroom dance which might have been awkward had the two of them not had such a strong presence.

As it happened, Moran could dance. Not spectacularly- he wouldn't draw any admiring glances on a dance floor for his footwork, but he wouldn't draw any condescending glances either. He led with quiet efficiency that seemed rather to miss the art of the process, but he was well timed and graceful. A military man to the core.

His wife, however, could dance spectacularly; she moved light on her feet, and always in a way that left her skirt swaying just right, taking what he offered and spinning it to her own advantage. In short, she did what she always did best; she made herself look good, and by proxy, her partner.

He focused on her more than anything, foregoing the music for her rhythm, trusting her instinct more than his ear. He matched her with reflexes honed by years of hand-to-hand combat. Eventually he lost the boxy set of his stance for something a little more fluid, forgetting their small audience in favor of the woman in front of him.

I don't want to die.

Sudden, sharp, painful, the stray thought ripped through his mind like a bullet. Up to this point it hadn't really mattered. Death was a reality that had stalked him for a long time. But here, with her in his arms, his wife...

He didn't want to die.

She felt more than saw him falter, and the music was winding down anyway; she took the opportunity to come to a slow stop, leaning up and kissing him softly. She could feel Jim watching them, and she wondered what he was thinking. He'd allowed them this, this moment that was just for the two of them. This day that was in celebration of their weakness for each other. He was bound to have some sort of feeling about it, one way or another. She shook the thought from her head and just enjoyed her husband's presence. While she could.

He took a moment to meet her gaze, but there was too much there and he looked away, seeking a distraction. He found it in Keira. "There. We danced. Happy?"

She smirked, putting her phone away. "Very. I promise the video isn't going anywhere."

"Good," he said, meeting her gaze calmly. "It would be a hell of a shame if I had to cut off your toes and feed them to you."

"Yup," she said cheerfully, leaning back and looking smug. Jim rolled his eyes.

"This is why you're still not allowed to birth another one."

"Like we would want to, Jim," Moran shot back, rolling his eyes and reaching up to straighten the cape slightly.

Lorna made an undignified gagging sound. "Jesus. Can you imagine me, pregnant? Ugh," she muttered, though she squeezed Sebastian's hand once, where it was hidden in her skirts. Jim looked unamused.

"Yes, quite. Everyone looks their best a balloon," he said dryly.

"It isn't happening, Jim. As much as you might want another Moran to train up. That one's all you get." He jutted his chin toward Keira.

Keira stuck her tongue out, and Jim reached out and I'm just grabbed it, to her extreme consternation. "Jim," Lorna sighed.

He eyed her, still holding Keira's tongue. "Are you still here? I would have thought the two of you would be fucking in a corner by now."

She smirked, squeezing Sebastian's hand again. "Well, if we're going to keep doing things that are expected of us..."

Jim flicked something their way, and Moran caught it deftly. A credit card. "A car is waiting to take you to Heathrow. My plane is there. Go wherever you like, buy whatever you want. No limit. I'll find you when I need you."

She made a surprised noise, eyebrows shooting up, but she nodded, doing her best to take it in stride. "Thank you. Promise we won't destroy your coffers."

"Unless you plan on purchasing a mid-sized country, you would be hard-pressed," he said, waving a hand dismissively and finally releasing Keira's tongue. She retracted it quickly and moved away.

"I think somehow we'll avoid that," she smirked, then tugged at Sebastian's hand. "Alright, where are we going?"

He shook his head, heading for the door with a grateful glance at Jim. "I don't care. Anywhere."

She hummed thoughtfully as they crossed the threshold, letting him take care of remembering the way back out. "Is it too much to go back to Switzerland?"

He laughed. "If that's where you want to be, then Switzerland it is," he agreed. "Hell. Maybe we'll buy the place on Jim's dime." His eyes twinkled.

She laughed too, shrugging lightly as they walked through the stone hall. "That would be hilarious. What a wedding gift! God, do you think he'd be angry? I honestly can't tell."

"I think he enjoyed that place as much as we did," he said with a small smirk, guiding her down through the tower, his cape billowing slightly with their movement.

"True. Then he could go whenever he liked. I'm sure your security upgrades would be stellar," she chuckled, glancing back at his cape with a slight tinge of amusement.

"Switzerland, then," he agreed, dropping the conversation as they hit the street, wary of eavesdroppers. A car was waiting, just as Jim had said, and they climbed inside.

She was surprised to find a bottle of champagne in the car waiting for them, and she chuckled, picking up the bottle and pouring herself a serving into the provided plastic glass. "The man really knows how to pull out all the stops. Why do you think he's being so... accommodating?"

He shrugged, though he resisted the urge to pour his own glass. Alcohol didn't mix well with most of the medication he was on. "Who the hell knows. I can predict him some of the time, but nowhere near all." He knew exactly why. Jim knew his odds as well as he did. Probably better. He was giving an old friend a good last few months, if that was what it was.

She took that with a mild quirk of her eyebrows a slight shrug, deciding it was what it was. "Whatever, then. I won't do too much looking in that particular horse's mouth. I'm too damn pleased with everything and I'm loathe to bother that feeling. Are we going back to HQ to pack or has he managed to pack us clothes, as well?"

"I very much doubt he's done anything but. If not, hell, we'll buy new ones." He leaned back as the car pulled out into traffic.

"Might as well, if Jim's footing the bill," she hummed, then shook her head. "It's funny how, when Jim very rarely offers to pay for things, or when you paid for my scar removal, I act as if I'm not loaded with enough money to buy more than a few large islands. I don't know why I hoard my money like I do. My upbringing, maybe?"

He chuckled. "I'm your husband, not your shrink. Don't ask me why you hoard."

She took a second to just enjoy him calling himself her husband, basking in the sensation, and smirked. "I don't know why I'm asking you. Just wondering out loud."

He rolled his eyes, and fell silent, then, watching out the window as London passed by. Eventually he pulled out his phone, and, when Lorna was looking elsewhere, shot Keira a text.

Feed Shinyfucker. Cans of food under the sink. I'll tell security you're to be let in once at the beginning and end of your shift.

The ride to Heathrow passed uneventfully, as did the boarding of the plane, and she found that waiting for them was a change of clothes, which she looked at Sebastian over, raising her eyebrows. "They're in our size, of course."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "...this surprises you... why? Exactly?" He reached out to take his clothes- a crimson tee shirt and black jeans which looked as though they had been tailored to him- and walked toward the spacious W.C. to change.

"I did say 'of course,' she smirked, grabbing her teal button up and seemingly matching dark jeans and following him. "You're keeping the clothes, right? We're fucking with that cape at least once."

"I'll keep the clothes," he agreed, rolling his eyes, though he was certainly interested in trying the edge of his dagger. He started working on delayering, setting the cape and belt on the counter.

She managed to unzip herself without any help, and then carefully slipped out of her dress, her lingerie revealing themselves to be the same color as the dress, and she changed into the new clothes, mind preoccupied with Switzerland. God, she loved it there.

He paused in his own undressing to admire her underthings. Eventually she covered up again and he refocused, getting dressed quickly. When she left, he opened the cabinet and found exactly what he'd been hoping- Jim had stocked it with his medications. He grabbed for the one that would ease the growing tightness in his chest, swallowing one of the small pills with a little water from the sink. He rinsed his mouth out, spitting out the pink water, and then straightened. He neatened his hair- the ugly blond had grown out, and there were streaks of pale silver at his temples. He looked old.

But he looked happy, too. He felt happy. He put the pills back and shut the cabinet, following Lorna into the main cabin.

She spent the flight lounging half on Sebastian's lap, reading emails on her phone, occasionally humming to herself a song that she had stuck in her head. Married. They were married now. And however bad the coming months might be, she had right now to enjoy.

But when all is said and done
I know you are still the one
You're the only one, you're the only one
Cupid's bow it stung
Now you're the only one

- The Black Keys - The Only One -