This is it, the end. It's been an intense two months and I want to say a big thank you to Pikabun91 and my beloved Worriedeye for your reviews. So, thank you! xx

And now here we go...

Jones sat on the front porch and watched the stars as they sparkled out over the sea. He always felt old sitting out here in the creaking rocking chair. It reminded him of Hemingway for some reason, there was even an dogeared copy of 'The Old Man and the Sea' on the bookshelf inside and Jones had sat out here and watched the sunsets so many times that it felt like a reoccurring dream rather than his real life. Only this dream was a pleasant one.

And now the sun had set, the sky had turned from dusky blue to plum to the colour that Jones had come to associate with the piping hot blueberries hidden in the pancakes that Dan still made him for breakfast at least once a week. Just as the sky was beginning to bleed to an inky black the frozen quiet of the night was - not broken, but infiltrated - by a record being set in motion in the sitting room.

He turned his head as Dan appeared at the door, two steaming mugs of tea in his hands and a tired but content smile on his face. Jones smiled back as Dan crossed to the rocking chair, put the mugs down on the ground and scooped Jones up in his arms to sit in the chair with Jones in his lap.

Jones let out a laugh and snuggled himself more firmly in Dan's lap, breathing in his warm smell and kissing firmly at his partner's neck. At his husband's neck. Dan chuckled in response and squeezed him tight before reaching down to retrieve their drinks.

This time last night they had been dancing in the Hornsea village hall, surrounded by their family, friends, and half the town and it had been magnificent, if a bit surreal. They'd made vows and signed all the paperwork, and come Monday Jones would be starting the process of officially changing his name. He had a ring on his finger, which was bizarre, and there had been too many people at the wedding telling him that life would be different now, that he was different now, but Jones didn't think so.

He and Dan had always belonged to one another, the only difference now was that they didn't have to hide it. It had been announced, it was legal, no one would be keeping them from each others bedside if - God forbid - they ever ended up in hospital again. And really, when it all came down to it, it had just been a really nice, fun thing to do.

They'd let Cathy organise most of it. She'd tried to retire the year before, and had lasted four whole months before she couldn't stand it and retrained as a registrar. Organising and officiating at her son's civil partnership ceremony had not only kept her busy but had made her happier than Jones had imagined possible. She'd held back her tears during the service in the name of professionalism but when it was all done she had hugged both himself and Dan tightly and sobbed as she told them how proud she was of them both.

Claire had cried quietly through the whole service, along with Ned, while Toby had looked misty-eyed, Rufus a bit uncomfortable, Harry thrilled and Sasha beautifully composed as always. There were people from Jones' old techno club and Stanley Knives rubbing shoulders with the Hornsea Crochet Club, and French filmmakers hobnobbing with Dan's editor and publisher, and a huddle of confused Ashcroft relatives in the middle trying to figure out which of the strange assortment of guests were Jones' relatives.

There had been photos and speeches and toasts and all the usual wedding stuff (Well, most of the usual wedding stuff. There hadn't been any garter or bouquet throwing.) and in the middle of it all, looking more handsome than any man had a right to be, had been Dan.

Jones had been completely clueless about what to wear for the day, and Dan had been just as lost. Neither man had ever been to a wedding and neither wanted to try and wear white or some sort of hired tuxedo. In the end they'd just headed down to the markets on one of their stays in London and had pieced together outfits based on what they liked and what felt comfortable. Claire (and most of Dan's family) had looked mortified when Dan had walked to the front of the hall wearing a sixty-year-old black suit with a scuffed pair of brown leather shoes but Jones had been pleased. He wanted Dan to look like himself and as they'd stood together by the windows that looked out over the sea they'd smiled at one another, sharing the secret joke that no one else ever got, and it was brilliant.

"Naw, there we are. My sexy hobo, look at you."

"Look at you, you cyberpunk, artful dodger, pixie... what ever you are. God, I love you."

And they'd kissed in front of a room full of people, which had been terrifying right up until the moment that Dan's hands had slid up his cheeks and into his hair, at which point the room and the people and all of the anxiety just slipped away. He could feel Dan's hands shaking and his breath had been uneven and shallow, a counter point to Jones' own trembling, like the oscillation of a needle in a groove - like even when they were terrified they fit together perfectly.

Dan's thumb had swept across his lower lip and Jones' lips had parted with a sigh, and just as he felt Dan's mouth on his and felt that he was drifting away, lost in a world of dark, subtle bass and a warm tongue and scratchy, grey round the edges, beard, just at that moment the room had erupted in applause. Giggles had bubbled from Jones' throat and Dan had been laughing into his mouth in answer as they'd tried to continue their first kiss as a married couple to the whoops and cheers - and a wolf whistle from Dan's dad - and when their lips had finally parted the clapping had only increased and Jones had turned to the small crowd, knowing that his face was hot and red from embarrassment and barely able to keep his eyes open from the force of his smile, and gave a little bow. And just like that, they were married.

And now the guests had gone home. The next day Dan and Jones hadn't moved from their bed until midday and that was only because Harry had texted them a warning to say that the Ashcrofts were on their way over for lunch. and they hadn't done much more with the afternoon than shower, pull on some vaguely clean clothes and drink tea. It wasn't particularly rock'n'roll and only added to Jones' suspicion that he was getting old but Dan hadn't been able to wipe the dopey grin from his face and had spent the afternoon kissing him and wrapping his arms around him at every possible opportunity, even though his parents were watching, and even though he had to dethrone Stardust twice in order to get Jones into his lap. And now he had Jones in his lap again and was holding him as though he was worried that if he let go Jones would disappear, like it had all just been a strange dream or fancy, a deluded jumble of hopes that would never come true.

"Hey?" he whispered, gulping the last of his tea.

"Hmm?" Dan rumbled in response, raising an eyebrow questioningly as he watched Jones over the rim of his mug.

"I love you."

Dan smiled and put his mug back on the ground, plucking Jones' mug from his hands as well so that they could hold and touch one another without the fear of spilling tea in anyone's lap.

"I love you too. How're you feeling?"

The thing Jones had learned about Dan, very early on, was that there wasn't much point in lying. If he lied and Dan took him at his word he felt rubbish for being deceptive. If he lied and Dan called him out on it he felt worse because it made Dan disappointed. If he told the truth, no matter what it was, Dan usually rewarded him with kisses. Jones was easily trained and he knew it, but that didn't make telling the truth less difficult sometimes.

"I'm a bit sore," he admitted, and Dan leaned in to kiss his forehead lovingly, a hand straying down to rub at the tight muscle of Jones' thigh.

"Poor love," he purred, massaging the aching muscle in long, practiced strokes. "I've worn you out."

Jones tipped his head back and laughed, enjoying the way the sound travelled through the still, night air, Dan's chuckle adding a deep harmony.

"No way, old man," he said breathlessly, looking back into Dan's eyes. "You'll never wear me out. Stuck with me for life, remember?"

"Good," Dan mumbled, his grin turning wolfish. "You remember our first kiss?"

"Like I could ever forget it," Jones said, nuzzling into Dan's chest and pressing a kiss to his husband's neck. "Best kiss in the history of the universe that was."

"Mmm. I think I found a rival for it yesterday."

"Genius," Jones whispered, planting another kiss lower down on Dan's throat. "Dan," he asked slowly. "Do you remember our first time?"

"I don't think I could possibly forget that."

Jones smiled against Dan's chest, feeling the warmth of the scarf he had made, his first attempt as crochet, loose around Dan's collar.

"I was too scared to rim you."

"I didn't want you to!" Dan responded, sounding more amused than anything else. Jones laughed quietly.

"We were both such fucking prudes."

"We were young!"

"Well..." he said, trying to sound seductive whilst his body seemed determined to start giggling. "We're not young now..."

With a growl Dan stood, holding Jones tight in his arms as the rocking chair swayed violently and Jones' cane clattered to the ground. Jones let the giggles escape as Dan strode purposefully through the sitting room, with its recently painted portrait of Dan on the wall, and the funny grey cat asleep on the ancient stereo-come-decks, and the laptops, and stacks of books and wool and art supplies.

They still had the House of Jones down in Shoreditch and Jones still loved it more than he had thought he would, but he was happy to call this their home now and as Dan reached the bedroom Jones held on tight, dragging Dan down onto the mattress with him in a fierce kiss that soon had Dan moaning with desire and love, a music that Jones knew he would never get bored of. And beyond the door the cat purred and the record played out until there was only the scimming of the vinyl as it gradually slowed, and the hum of the old fridge and the rattle of the oil heater, complaining of the cold. Beyond the window the sea lapped gently against the sand and the wind whispered like lovers' breaths and Jones smiled blissfully as the sounds came together in his mind like a symphony.

Then Dan smiled at him, and there was no pain behind his eyes, and no fear, or bitterness, only joy and arousal and love, and contentment. And it was wonderful.

THE END.