Michelangelo wasn't allowed to MC his own wedding, though not for lack of trying. April and Donnie were on a warpath, moredetermined to see this night off without a hitch than the situation really warranted – not that you dared say as much to their faces – and the grooms were not allowed to do much more on their Big Day than offer opinions (when asked), and sit around looking pretty.
On two occasions, you tried to help set up the rooftop venue in secret, be it with lights or equipment or seating, and on both occasions you did not get away with it. Similarly, Mikey was forcibly extracted from the kitchen four times, and at that point Casey and Karai were put on 'babysitting-the-bridegrooms' detail.
The unofficial wedding planners did relent when Michelangelo begged they let one of his soccer buddies DJ, and that was their first mistake. Not double-checking the wedding mix before guests arrived was the second. Naturally, Mondo would sneak in whatever songs Michelangelo asked him to, which is how the attendees on the dance floor found themselves swaying to DDR music, and gratuitous amounts of Kesha, and what sounded like the Sailor Moon theme song. Naturally.
Leonardo, Alopex and Karai were pink-faced with suppressed laughter. Raphael and Casey were wheezing with it, leaning on each other for support. Contrarily, April and Donatello were both glaring daggers at their newly wed brother, and if any two humans could spit actual fire, it would probably be those two in that moment – so you decided the better part of valor was retreat, and whisked Michelangelo away to the relative safety of the dance floor.
"You're incorrigible," you told him, mostly just for the sake of hearing him laugh. "And your siblings are going to kill us both. I'm afraid for my health already, and I've only been married into this family for – not even two hours. That's got to be some kind of record."
"Afraid, huh?" Michelangelo said, a crooked grin on his face. He'd been smiling all night, and didn't look ready to stop anytime soon. "News flash, buddy – from now on, they're your siblings, too. And they love you almost half as much as I do! Which is a lot, by the way. So what's there to be afraid of?"
How could anyone not be afraid of a love like this, a part of you wanted to ask, the part of you that had almost choked with nerves during your vows, the part that had kept you up for two nights before the wedding even with your fiancé sleeping soundly beside you. I'm terrified, aren't you?
But you didn't ask.
Because Michelangelo's bow tie was hanging loose around his neck, and his tux jacket was gone entirely to parts unknown, the cuffs of his dress shirt rolled up to the elbow. He was wearing Chucks with his formal attire, of course he was, and his face was flushed under the warm string lights, blue eyes impossibly bright. Humming along to the contraband techno – look at us, baby, look at us now – and not even once letting go of your hand, and you knew.
Of all the things in this world worth being afraid of, love was not one of them.
Most of the time, you allowed indulgently, with a grin that you kissed into your husband's hair. Thinking for a split second of your track record; of back-alley fights and Purple Dragons and rescued cats, mental illness and close calls and the long, hard road between "my name is," and "until death do us part."
Maybe that kind of impossible, staggering love was a little intimidating. Maybe it was okay to shrink in awe from time to time – to think "wow" and hold him like you were lucky to – never taking for granted the way your heart still bursts when he smiles, even after all these years.
