Originally written as an anonymous Tumblr prompt: April freaks about before her wedding because she still loves Jackson.
Her mother comes to stand behind her as she sits, her hands resting on the young woman's shoulders.
Karen Kepner smiles brightly, playing with the ends of her daughter's hair, "You make a beautiful bride..."
April ignores her mother's comment she sighs, a gentle smile on her own face, "Don't." She chews on her bottom lip and rests her hands down in her lap. Her youngest sister comes to stand beside her, digging through the make-up bag on the dresser.
She holds up a hair-clip and smiles triumphantly. "Found it!"
She opens the pin and takes April's hair in her grasp, sliding it through the clip. She pats the long hair down her shoulders, watching the twirls fall down her back. Alice grins, and holds up her hands proudly.
"Done!"
April glances at her young sister, slightly amused at her enthousiasme. She hasn't taken a seat since she arrived in Seattle, and she seems to be the happiest person at this wedding. "Thank you."
Libby looks up from the couch behind them, twirling her glass of champagne in her hand, "Will you stop saying thank you and just tell us what's wrong?"
April fidgets nervously, her fingers twitching in her lap. Of course, her oldest sister had to be the smartest of the bunch.
"There's nothing wrong." She tries, briefly making eye contact through the mirror in front of her.
The eldest Kepner girl stands, walking over to the bride-to-be and handing her the glass of alcohol.
"Drink this."
From the other side of the room, Cristina chuckles to herself, "Kepner, a runaway... Who would've thought?"
Meredith nudges her arm and shakes her head, "She's not a runaway, she's still in the building."
"That's still a runaway. Trust me, I would know. It doesn't matter if she's gone or not. If she doesn't marry the guy, she's a classified runaway bride." Yang rolls her eyes and smirks, ignoring the glare coming from the bride's direction.
"Don't encourage your sister to drink, Libby, she's meant to be getting married!" Her mother scolds, softly swatting her sister across the arm.
Libby pouts childishly and grins slightly, watching as April quickly downs the drink.
"Good girl. Now, tell me." She sits down on the seat beside the dresser, crossing her legs and swaying them. She watches as April gulps and taps her fingers together rapidly, her legs slightly beating up and down.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because there's nothing wrong."
"Well, I don't believe you."
She sighs, "Fine, then don't. Whatever." She stands up, brushing the sides of the puffy white dress with shaking hands.
Libby nods slowly before standing up and ushering everybody out of the room. "Come on, people, get out. We need a minute." She excuses as she pushes her mother out the door, leaving it to close as everybody leaves the room.
She's not an idiot, she knows what's wrong with her sister. She remembers a certain conversation they'd had when April had briefly returned back home to Ohio a year ago. A certain conversation that had ended in gasps and tears.
She' not an idiot. She knows what's wrong with her sister.
With a sigh, she turns back around and leans against the door, "I could kill you." She shakes her head as she walks forward.
April swallows a breath. Great, she knows.
"What?" She asks innocently, casting her gaze down at the ground.
Libby tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow, "Don't mess with me, April. You've made Mom and Dad pay for a wedding that you're never going to go through with."
"I- Yes, I am. I am ge- Getting married today." She stutters, avoiding her glare. "I'm not getting married." She muuters under her breath, clearly confused and contradicting herself.
"Look, I'm your sister, you can tell me anything." She starts, grabbing her shoulders and gently bouncing her back and forth. "I love you, and that's not going to change whether you marry this guy or not. Mom and Dad are still going to love you. Okay? And, you know, Jesus is still going to love you." She teases, glancing her eyes up at the ceiling.
April smiles, "It's- It's not that. Well, not anymore."
"Well then, what is it? Because, last I remember, you were hung up on Jesus and what he thought about your 'sins'?" She airquotes the words and frowns.
"It was about that. It was. You know that because I told you. I told you everything, so please don't make me feel any more guilty than I already do."
"What exactly do you feel guilty for?"
April throws her hands up and groans, "This!" She looks down at her dress, "This wedding." She licks her lips and pauses for a second before continuing, "This wedding, because I know that I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't be doing this, alright? And I feel guilty because there's a great guy out there waiting for me to walk down that aisle and marry him, but I don't think I can do it. I can't marry him if I don't love him. And I- I know that he can love me enough for the both of us, but that's not right. I keep thinking that I'm going to learn- to learn to love him. But I shouldn't have to." She sighs, "I can't marry him." She repeats to herself.
"Are you getting married, or not?"
"No- I don't know." She states, still slightly unsure of her word. She paces back and forth, her hands covering her face, clearly aggravated at the entire situation.
"Yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"No. No, I'm not. I'm not getting married."
Libby nods her head a couple of times before biting her lip and holding up a finger.
"Wait here."
April watches as she leaves, a confused look on her face.
Isn't she supposed to stay and offer her sisterly advice? Isn't she supposed to console her? Isn't she supposed to tell her that everything was gonna be alright? Isn't she supposed to convince her to stand up and marry the guy anyway?
She sits back down then, her head hanging low as she rests her arms across the dresser. She's crying before she realizes that tears are streaming to her eyes, and she's sobbing before she hears the door open.
"So, I'm gonna cancel your wedding. Do you want me to get Matthew?" Libby informs her.
The redhead shakes her head, unfazed by her sister's news, "No, don't. It'll- I can't face him like this. Just, tell him that I'm sorry and that I wish things were different. Tell him I left, I don't want him coming in here. I'll probably be in here for a while." She tells her from her crumpled position on the dresser, her arms pressed against ehr face slightly messing up her words.
Libby nods, unnoticed by the was-to-be-bride, and she turns around to leave, pushing somebody through the door before she goes.
"April?" The voice she hears makes her head spring up and she quickly tries to wipe her eyes.
She slowly stands up, hands hanging by her sides and she takes a deep breath when his eyes cast over her. She tries to ignore the dark look in his eyes when he takes in the sight of her wedding dress, and her in it.
"Hi." He speaks.
"What are you doing here?" She replies. It could come across as rude but she's not sure what else to say. She folds her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze.
"Your, uh, sister told me that you were freaking out." He points towards the now closed door, and April sighs. Clearly, this was Libby's idea of support: shoving the problem right in her face.
She moves slightly, avoiding his gaze because she can't bare the thought of him seeing her dressed like this, under these circumstances. It's not right, she thinks, it's not fair.
April bites her bottom lip, finally daring to look up at him when he talks again, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"You look beautiful."
She doesn't reply, but after a second, he watches as she crumbles to the floor in a fit of sobs. He's confused and shocked, but he rushes over to her anyway, because it's her, because it's April.
The tears stream down her face as she sits herself up (without the help of his hands, she tells herself), and rests her hands in her lap.
Jackson kneels down in front of her, keeping his hands to himself to avoid any tension, and he sighs. He's not sure what to do, or say to make her feel any better because she's clearly having a struggle with herself.
"You shouldn't be in here." She informs him quietly and he softly smiles.
"Well, I am." He holds out his hands as he gets up, offering her help to stand.
She falters before grabbing his hands tightly and pulling herself up, but she doesn't let go of him when she's stood. "Say it."
Jackson fakes a smile and tosses their hands back and forth like a child, "What do you want me to say?" His voice is quiet and she notices the way he doesn't look at her, instead focusing his attention on her wedding dress.
"Say that you want me to marry him." She attempts, blinking back the few tears that are still hid behind her eyes, "Say that you don't."
"April-"
"Just-" She takes a deep breath and shakes her head as she tosses her shoulders back. She lets go of his hands and wipes her remaining tears away quickly with her wrists before resting her hands on his chest. She steps closer to him and looks down, "Say that it would kill you." She leans closer and places her forehead against his chest, listening for his heartbeat, "If I married him, tell me that it would kill you inside."
Maybe he doesn't want her, maybe he never will again. Maybe she royally messed things up between them, and they can never go back. And maybe she just called off her wedding to a perfect second best for nothing.
He apprehensively sets his hands on her waist, hating the feel of the wedding dress under his touch. He hates it because it's not meant for him. He hates it because he's not going to be the one slipping her out of it. He hates it because he's not the one marrying her. "It would kill me." Jackson reassures her, resting a finger under her chin to lift her head so she was facing him.
He stares down at her longingly and she almost blushes under his gaze, his mouth straight and his eyes focused on hers intensely,
"But I'd rather die than see you unhappy."
The words practically break her and she crashes into him, her arms flinging around his neck as she brings him closer, pressing her lips furiously against his.
He walks her backwards, slamming her into the edge of the dresser.
She stiffly grasps the back of his neck to drag him to her even more, her nails scraping down his shoulder-blades as she slips his jacket from his shoulders.
She moans into him when he grips the side of the gown and pulls down the zipper, tugging the strapless dress down her body to be forgotten. She feels her bottom colliding with the wooden dresser as he sits her on it, sweeping all of her possessions to the floor carelessly.
April closes her eyes and spreads her legs as he steps between them, sliding his hands up her bare thighs.
The sight of her wearing so little, clothed in only a simple white piece of bridal lingerie, is killing him.
He doesn't think he should be seeing her like this, dressed like this, because it's meant for her husband. But the idea of another man enjoying the sight of her dressed like this, and kissing her, and touching her, makes him possessive and claiming. Like she's his only, like no other man is ever allowed to see her like this, like she's his.
And she is, she tells herself, she belongs to him. Because no other man is ever going to look at her like this, or kiss her like that, or touch her as such.
But he doesn't know that, she reminds herself, so he probably thinks that he's just one of two.
The white material against her creamy complexion makes him groan as he grips her hips and pulls her lower half towards him, pressing himself against her roughly as she tugs on his tie.
His mouth leaves her lips and travels down her neck, latching onto her collarbone and sucking on her skin, leaving his claim. She's his, and she's always going to be his, and he wants her soon-to-be-maybe-or-maybe-not-husband to know that.
April licks her dry lips and throws her head back when he slides his hands beneath her simple lingerie and quickly tugs down her underwear, tossing it to the floor.
She moves her hands to his chest, tracing down his muscles and slipping his tie away from him and unbuttoning a few button her the way before unfastening his belt and hurriedly dragging down the zip of his pants.
Her hands grip the sides of his dark boxers for a second, her fingers messing with the rim, before she pulls them down along with his pants.
Jackson lifts himself from her neck and rests his forehead against hers as he places himself at her entrance. He's looking in her eyes with concern, as though to ask if she's okay, if she can do this.
He's fully aware that she hasn't had sex in over a year, since the last time they did it, before everything got so screwed up between them.
April nods only once before he enters her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as she curves her back into him. Her hands claw at his muscled back, her fingernails scratching his skin and her teeth biting into his bottom lip as he thrusts into her repeatedly, his bare skin slapping against hers with every pump.
She's not sure how she ended up like this. An hour ago, she was getting ready to marry some guy that she barely knew. And now, she was screwing her former flame against a dresser in the back of a church.
But the screwing feels so good that it's almost not even bad anymore.
"Oh, God," She groans as she briefly pulls herself away from his mouth, biting into her bottom lip when he brings a hand down to touch her as he continues to move in her. He sends her over the edge after a moment, gripping her soft thighs to tell her to wrap her legs around his body, and she does, her hands moving back to his chest as she does. "Jackson,"
He finds her lips again, tugging her bottom lip between his and she moans, slamming her hands against his chest harshly when he pounds into her a final time, holding her legs tightly against him, his hands grasping the backs of her knees, keeping her from moving. She comes down around him, feeling him finish as well, her hands holding his low back for support as she melts, her chest panting heavily and her face heated.
"I-" April tries, catching her breath with flustered cheeks.
Jackson smiles, his eyes dark as he gazes down at her, pressing another kiss to her lips and letting his hands fall from her legs. He pulls away and leans against her, gripping her face between his hands, "Yeah."
She blushes then, swallowing a deep breath and allowing her heart-rate the chance to slow down.
"Say it." She asks of him when she regains her words.
He pauses, taking a second and bringing his hands down to her waist, "Marry me."
That wasn't what she wanted him to say, nor what she expected.
But she'll take it anyway, because she belongs to him.
And she'd rather die than marry someone else.
"Yes."