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Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones

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Alfred hadn't been this nervous in his life, and that included the night he proposed. He stood at the front of the outdoor pavilion, gazing out at the guests milling about as they waited for the ceremony to officially begin.

It was a small wedding, the guest list barely reaching about twenty. Most of them were friends and coworkers— Alfred's besties Gilbert, along with Gil's partner Roderich who'd been more than happy to provide the music, Elizabeta, and Ivan and Yao because honestly Alfred was too intimidated to not invite his favorite communists (no really, he loved the guys. Sometimes), and Arthur's closest acquaintances Lukas, Ludwig (Alfred refused to believe he and Gil were related even a little bit), and Lovino, along with significant others Mathias, Feliciano (who Alfred wasn't surprised to find was Lovino's brother), and Antonio— and, of course, family: Arthur's three older brothers Alistair, James, and Dylan who'd flown in the month before (and quite frankly were the funniest people Alfred had ever met), Francis and Jeanne-Marie, and Matthew.

Oh, and Peter, of course. Alfred smiled as he watched the little man scurrying about, laughing with the uncles he hadn't seen in a year or so, and just generally making a nuisance of himself before things started.

"You gonna throw up yet?" Matthew's voice was in his ear, and Alfred could hear the smirk.

Alfred snorted. "If I do, I'll make sure to aim for you, you jerk." He pouted when Matthew only laughed at him. "You won't be laughing when you have to clean up whatever it was I had for dinner last night!"

Matthew gave him a disbelieving look. "Al, you're gonna be the one cleaning it up if you throw up on me." He shook his head fondly at his twin before wrapping him in a hug. "You're fine. I'm not worried about you reliving dinner again."

Alfred snorted but returned the hug. "Gah, I'm so nervous, Matt! I wasn't even this bad when I proposed to him!"

"It's going to be perfect, Al." Matthew smiled at him, his indigo eyes twinkling as he looked over his brother, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket, the deep black lint-free as made sure by Francis, his blue tie bringing out the swirling azure in his eyes. His hair was as tamed as it usually was, the little cowlick bobbing in the slight breeze of the cool spring afternoon. "There's nothing to fret over."

"Easy for you to say," Alfred muttered, but he smiled regardless, his nerves more at ease from his twin's reassurance. "See if you're still saying that when you're the one standing here."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I think we both know I'm going to be in Arthur's place," he returned with a smirk.

Cheeky bastard. Alfred scoffed but relented, his mind going to his soon-to-be husband at the mention of him. "Think Artie's this nervous, Matt?"

Matthew shrugged, looking to the building where they were going to hold the reception and where Arthur was currently waiting for his cue as soon as they started. "I'm sure he is, Al."

Matthew didn't know how right he was; Arthur was pacing back and forth in front of the mirrors that Elizabeta had set up so he could check his appearance, his stomach doing odd flips as he thought about what was getting ready to occur.

Oh, God, he was getting married. To Alfred, the love of his life and most annoying person he'd ever met, next to Francis. He wrung his hands in front of him as he took deep breaths, forgetting to bother calming himself in order to concentrate on not messing with his tie or collar or something.

What if this was a mistake? What if he and Alfred didn't work out or decided they didn't want this anymore? He couldn't put Peter through the repercussions of that! Oh, this was a bad idea, they should just—

"Are you trying to wear a hole in the ground, chère?"

Arthur's head snapped up at Francis' voice, his glare that had been trained on the floor now on the blond Frenchman walking towards him. "Belt up, frog," he shot back pathetically, forcing himself to stand still. "I just—" He cut off, looking at himself in one of the mirrors.

"You're being melodramatic, is what you are," Francis chastised, coming to place his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I can see it in your head: you're wondering if this is the right thing to do."

"But what if it isn't, Francis?" Arthur couldn't help his worry. "What if—"

"Do you love him, Arthur?" Francis interrupted, looking at him pointedly in the mirror.

"With all my heart," Arthur answered automatically, almost defensively, no hesitation, and he smiled. "With all my heart," he repeated softly.

Francis released his shoulders and turned him around, a smile on his face. "That's all that matters, chère. You don't need to worry about anything else." He gestured to the doors. "He's out there waiting for you, just as in love and nervous as you are, and it's going to be parfait."

Telling himself he'd deny it vehemently later, Arthur stepped forward and wrapped his best friend in a tight hug, feeling the man return it. "Thank you, Francis. For everything." He pulled back, coughing awkwardly. "That didn't happen, and we never mention it again. Deal?"

Francis smirked. "Deal."

The doors flew open as they turned away from each other, Elizabeta rushing in. Her hair was pulled up in a loose updo, chestnut tendrils falling around her face delicately and a flower pinned in for decoration. Her dress was a lovely pale pink, draping around her flatteringly but not enough to draw too much attention to herself as literally the only woman at the ceremony. Her smile was large as she sauntered forward to envelope Arthur in a hug.

"Oh, don't you just look handsome!" she cooed, pulling back to look him over. Arthur could see the tears she was holding back, and he could feel his own starting to creep in. "You and Alfred are the most adorable couple ever! I'm so glad I was lucky enough to get Peter— I'd heard all kinds of sweet things about you from Alfred when he talked about you and the 'little man'!"

Arthur felt his cheeks beginning to flush at the praise. "Thank you, Elizabeta. Peter enjoys your class quite a bit."

She smiled. "Oh, I know! He's a blast to have, Arthur. I'm almost jealous how you do it; my own kids aren't nearly as behaved as he is!"

Francis and Arthur both snorted, sharing a look. "If you consider that behaved, I almost don't want to imagine how much worse it could be," Arthur said with a laugh, and Elizabeta rolled her eyes with a laugh of her own.

"They're little devils, I'm telling you." She sounded proud, and Arthur felt his own pride at his son swell as well. "But enough about them. It's almost time!"

Suddenly Arthur's nerves were back, and he took another deep breath to clear his mind. "Okay. Okay."

Francis' arm was around him immediately. "You're fine, Arthur. Think of Alfred. He's out there waiting for you, so just concentrate on him, oui?"

Arthur nodded and focused his mind's eye on the man waiting at the "altar", his smile no doubt bright and large as he waited for Arthur, looking irresistible in his tuxedo. Arthur's heart raced for a completely different reason as Elizabeta ran back out and Francis led him to the doors, waiting for the cue.

This was it.

Alfred fell silent from his on and off conversation with Matthew as the gentle notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D started from the grand piano to the side of the raised platform he was on. Matthew stepped back, taking his place as Alfred's best man, smiling out as he watched with Alfred and the rest of the guests as Alfred's whole world emerged from the doors of the reception hall.

Arthur had decided— adamantly— against Francis' suggestions of wearing a dress (honestly, he wasn't a woman; that was the whole point of his relationship) and instead had picked out a white tuxedo to keep with the "bride wears white" tradition (he had to relent that he was the one walking down the aisle, after all). The lapels were satin, glinting almost rainbow-y in the sunlight. His shoes were white as well, polished to a shine, and his shirt was pressed perfectly and without wrinkles. The only color on him was the emerald of his tie to match his eyes, with a sparkling sapphire broach holding it down, companion to the emerald broach on Alfred's tie.

Alfred's smile could rival the sun as he gazed happily in adoration at his Artie, making his way gracefully down the aisle to the music, his arm through Francis' as Arthur had requested him to take the honor of walking him down. His brothers had enthusiastically agreed, all three of them content to stand in as groomsmen instead, and Alfred noticed the silent tears in their eyes as well as his own.

Peter was happily walking in front of them next to Jeanne-Marie, her tossing out rose petals delicately as her job as flower girl, and Peter cradling the pillow with their rings on it as if it was a precious treasure.

Arthur was sure his heart was going to leave his chest as he smiled up at Alfred, standing and watching him the warmest smile and brightest eyes, and it took all he had not to simply rush up to him. He could barely feel the pressure of Francis' arm over his own happiness making him feel lighter than he had in a long time, and he wanted to laugh.

They were finally together after an eternity and a decade of walking, the final notes of the piano fading out as Arthur slid his hand into Alfred's, feeling his nerves leave and his heart warm him, a sense of peace washing over him as he looked into blue eyes and found himself at home. He squeezed Alfred's hand, smiling when Alfred squeezed back, and they turned to face the preacher smiling on them with the love of a father.

"We are gathered here today to bear witness to the union of these two men in the bond of holy matrimony. As requested by the two, we'll keep this short and sweet." He smiled as everyone laughed, and Arthur couldn't contain his grin up at Alfred as they gazed at each other.

"You have each prepared vows that you wished to repeat?" he asked, and they nodded, the preacher gesturing to Alfred. "The floor's yours, son."

Alfred took a deep breath, smiling down at his Artie as the butterflies in his stomach beat against it in excitement.

"Arthur, I've said it before, and I'll say it every day until the day I die: you are my whole world, and I can't express just how much I love you, am in love with you, and always will be. You make me the happiest man alive, you make me a better person, give me the will to be a better person, and I don't know how I managed before you." He paused to breathe as Arthur rolled his eyes, the tears falling freely. "I love you, Artie, and I promise to be here for you— and for Peter— for as long as you'll have me."

Arthur could hear the muffled sniffs of their guests as the preacher turned and gestured for him to say his own vows. With a deep breath and a smile, he looked into Alfred's eyes, eyes that mesmerized him and held him and always looked at him with love and warmth.

"I've been told I can turn a phrase without even thinking about it, but I've never found myself more tongue-tied in my life since meeting you, Alfred. You take my breath away, and I feel like I can accomplish anything knowing you're always right here, with me, cheering me on." Alfred squeezed his hand for emphasis, and Arthur felt another tear roll down his cheek. "You have no idea what you mean to both me and Peter, Alfred. I could never have imagined that I would be so lucky, and I wouldn't give it up for the world. You are my everything, and I love you more than I can possibly say, so I hope to be able to try for as many years as you'll let me."

The preacher nodded, his own eyes misty as Arthur tried hard not to simply jump Alfred right then, the rest of the ceremony be damned. His heart was loud in his ears, and he felt about to burst with joy.

"And now, the rings." Luckily, they had asked for a short ceremony, so the preacher immediately gestured Peter forward, and Arthur smiled down at him as he and Alfred grabbed the rings, the boy's eyes filled with cheer.

The preacher turned back to Alfred, and Alfred took Arthur's hand, sliding the ring onto his left ring finger. "Do you, Alfred Frederick Jones, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, until death do you part?"

"I do." Alfred's smile was blinding.

Turning to Arthur, Arthur took his cue and slid the other ring onto Alfred's left ring finger, feeling another weight lift from his shoulders seeing the gold band resting on the tanned hand. "Do you, Arthur James Kirkland, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, until death do you part?"

Arthur looked up into Alfred's eyes, and he'd never felt more sure about something in his life. "I do."

The preacher smiled again. "Then with these rings, and your vows, and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones." He looked to Alfred, giving a slight inclination towards Arthur with a wink. "You may now kiss your bride."

Alfred chuckled, and Arthur shook his head as he brought his hands up to cup Alfred's face. "Git," he murmured as Alfred's lips met his, a feeling of wholeness and completion washing through them as the guests erupted in cheers and clapping. They were ignored, Arthur's focus on his new husband and him alone as they shared their passion in the kiss, reveling in the knowledge that it was something to last forever.

They pulled away eventually, turning to smile out at the guests, everyone crying and smiling as they walked back out, Peter holding both of their hands between them and pulling them to the reception hall. The sun was still high in the sky, the breeze still cool and pleasant as they all headed for food and dancing and drinks.

Alfred and Arthur cut their cake and shoved several pieces in each other's faces, laughing as they licked the icing off their fingers and cheeks, and they joined in the dancing with their friends as the day wore on, the light fading to the orange of sunset as the merriment continued.

As night approached, Alfred and Arthur slow danced their first slow dance as a newlywed couple, and traded off partners and chatting with everyone before being ushered to the doors where a limo waited to take them to the airport for their honeymoon, of which neither of them knew where was because Francis and Matthew had planned it all and it was supposed to be a surprise.

Peter was by them up until the doors, holding onto Arthur's hand, a smile on his face. Arthur knelt down next to him, pulling him into a tight hug that was returned in full. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, poppet," he said, burying his face into his son's hair.

"Me, too, dad," Peter agreed, pulling back to look at his dad. "You have fun, though, okay?"

"Of course, poppet." Arthur smiled tiredly, pressing a kiss to Peter's temple. "You be good for Matthew and Francis, yes?"

"Duh," Peter moaned, giving him a smirk. "I'll make sure to move his shampoo in the mornings."

Arthur grinned. "That's my boy." He stood, walking with Peter over to Alfred who turned from saying goodbye to Matthew. "Hello, love."

"Hey, sweetheart." Alfred pulled Arthur into another kiss before letting go and bending down to Peter. "Hey, little man. You gonna miss me, too?"

Peter nodded vigorously. "Yup! But you need to have fun with dad, okay? I'll be fine."

Alfred ran a hand through Peter's hair. "Of course! Heroes look out for people, though, so I need you to watch out for Mattie, okay? Make sure he doesn't get into trouble."

Peter laughed. "Okay!" He paused shortly, then threw his arms around Alfred's shoulders, Alfred immediately returning the hug. "Love you, dad."

Arthur met Alfred's eyes, smiling softly as Alfred grinned. "Love you too, little man. We'll be back in a couple weeks."

Peter sniffed and nodded, pulling back to give Arthur one more hug. "Love you."

"Always, poppet." Arthur patted his head gently. "We'll see you soon."

Peter nodded again, and Alfred took Arthur's hand, leading him out of the building and into the night as they headed for the limo, their guests cheering again and tossing the customary rice at them as they made their way to the vehicle. They waved back at them, relaxing when they saw Peter next to Matthew and Francis, and slid into the sleek interior as they told the driver to perform his duties.

As they headed out, Arthur slid up next to Alfred, burying his face into his husband's neck and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He hummed contentedly when he felt Alfred's arms come around his hips, massaging up and down his back. After a quiet moment, Arthur turned his head down to look at his hand, grabbing Alfred's and watching as their rings— the gold bands and Arthur's titanium engagement ring— glinted together.

"Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones," Arthur mused, a smile spreading his lips as he looked up at his husband. "I like it."

Alfred laughed and nodded, leaning down to press their lips together again. He would never get used to that, but: "I love it."

It was official.

Mr. Jones was Arthur's most favorite teacher ever.

END

Note: Thanks for reading, guys! It really means a lot how much you guys loved this, and I appreciate each and every one of you!

Don't forget to check out the highly requested Franada spin, Bonnefoy-Williams.