Author's note: Story title and song titles from the album by Florence + The Machine. Big thanks to Ramona and other guest for reviewing.

Ceremonials

Chapter 2: Shake it out

The next day.

The wedding was like any other wedding. That was a guess. Layla hadn't attended another wedding. Ever. Her family was small and kind of hippie-ish, which basically meant that most of them thought that marriage was an old fashioned institution best avoided. For a while, she had held out hope that Magenta and Zach might get married, but Magenta had quickly squashed that dream. Apparently, marriage wasn't Magenta's cup of tea either.

Layla had so wanted to be in a wedding. Best (wo)man, bridesmaid, flower girl; she didn't care. She just wanted to be part of a wedding, dammit! Well, here she was: the bride. If weddings were plays, everyone would want the role of the bride. That was arguably the best part. No, no, no, not true. The best part was that she was marrying Warren. The best part was that this fantastic man had gone down on one knee with a ring in his hand and had asked her to marry him. The best part was that he hadn't been crying, but he had definitely been emotional. Yep, Warren was without a doubt the best part.

The wedding itself took forever. A good forever, though. It didn't drag. No one got embarrassingly drunk afterwards and made an awkward speech. Will seemed completely recovered from the night before. Everyone was having fun. Everything was perfect.

Okay, that was a lie. Things were tense between Will and Warren. The tension was close to palpable and Layla couldn't understand why. She hoped that Will hadn't told Warren that he didn't feel like the two of them were friends. 'Cause this was hardly the time or the place. Unfortunately, Will was honest to a fault. He really might have said that he didn't want to be Warren's best man. It was infuriating. If that's how he felt then why hadn't he said something earlier? Arranging the wedding had taken over a year. Surely, he could have found the time to mention it before?

The night was nearly over. Layla was beginning to get tired and her feet were starting to hurt. She was just resting them when Will asked her to dance. She accepted; thinking that this would be an opportunity to ask him about what was going on. As soon as the band would start playing again, the combination of the music and eighty guests conversing would afford them enough privacy.

'And a one and a one, two, three, four,' the drummer said and the band was off. Layla immediately recognised the song. It was one of her favourites: Night Like This by LP.

Stars are falling

Are we falling too?

Dawn is coming

What's this coming to?

Whenever she was singing along at home Layla always sang are we coming too? instead of what's this coming to? Maybe it was the way the lyrics were structured. Maybe she was a pervert. Anyway, it was a beautiful song. Layla and Will walked to the dance floor and started to dance. Layla led. Will could follow, but he was rubbish at leading. Kind of the opposite of how he was as a superhero.

'I feel guilty,' Will whispered into her ear. Layla frowned.

'About what?' she whispered back. Will grabbed her by the shoulders and held her away from him. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe what she'd said. Layla suddenly realised what he meant. Relieved, she let out a quiet breath.

'About last night? Don't,' she urged.

'I assume you haven't told Warren?'

Layla nearly laughed. Why would she do that? It had just been a stupid mistake. There was no need to tell Warren. It would only upset him, which was the last thing Layla wanted to do.

'I know that I probably should, but no,' she answered. Will nodded. Layla studied him. There was this grave look of concern on his face that was completely out of place. That was so like Will. So he got drunk and kissed her. Who cared? Only Will could obsess about something like that.

'Can I cut in?' Warren asked.

Layla got the feeling that it was meant to sound apologetic, but it sounded more like a challenge. As if he was prepared to duel for the honour of dancing with her. Preposterous. This wasn't Victorian times or whenever people did that. This also wasn't high school, yet they were acting like teenagers. Her anger at both of them vanished when Warren took her hand.

He slid one arm around her waist. She draped both her arms over his shoulders. It was beyond nice to have him holding her. What was even nicer was how his fingers caressed her back through the fabric of her dress. His touches were so light that they almost weren't there. It drove her crazy. Is this what married life was like? Probably not. It probably involved more mundane things, like filing taxes together and spending holidays in your own home instead of at your parents' house.

'Layla?'

'Hmm?' she murmured.

'You're the first person I ever liked,' he said. Layla gazed up at him with a huge smile on her face. He averted his eyes and continued.

'Don't laugh. It's true. I love my mother and my father, though I hate him too, but I don't especially like them. They're family. And that was it. That was the sum total of people I cared about. Everyone else I just tolerated. But you... you I liked.'

It was sweet and slightly disturbing all at once. In that respect, it was a bit like Warren. How to respond? Layla couldn't think of any words.

'You don't have to say anything,' Warren added. 'Just know that I love you.'

'I know that,' Layla whispered. Sometimes she thought that Warren could easily be a stranger. She knew far less about him than about other people in her life. Nonetheless, she knew the important stuff. She knew that he loved her.

The song ended. The band announced that the next dance would be the last dance of the night and began to play Don't Move by Phantogram. It wasn't a song you could slow dance to. It was a song that called for wild, uncoordinated movements and probably making a fool of yourself. It was just the song for Layla.