Getting married was nothing like I'd imagined it. I was still just as nervous, my heart trying to hammer out of my chest on the drive into the licensing office, my hands clammy around the steering wheel. I knew it didn't count. That we'd legally be married, but he wouldn't see it that way. Wasn't really ready for it. Didn't actually want to be. Despite how much I wanted that for us.
He'd still matched the effort I put in, both of us in semi-formal clothing, somewhat presentable for once. "Still feeling okay?" I asked him. I peeled one hand off the wheel to reach over to him, squeezing his leg.
"Yeah. Are you?" His fingers weaved through mine, his eyes meeting my gaze when I risked a glance at him. I wished I hadn't - I was instantly warm all over, giddy for all the wrong reasons. In less than an hour, he'd be my husband.
"Yes. I know you don't want to be doing this right now, but I'm really happy that this is happening. I hope that maybe one day you'll want this too, and maybe we can get married married then. But if you're still not comfortable with it, we can always…" Divorce. I hated the word. Even the thought of it made me vaguely nauseous. I didn't really want him to answer, sure that I wouldn't like the result. At least driving gave me an excuse to look away.
"It isn't that I don't want to marry you, Garrett, but I wish it wasn't happening like this. This sucks; I know we agreed to pick up where things were before Heidi happened, but I wish we were still engaged because we love each other," he explained for the millionth time.
"I love you," I told him pathetically.
"I love you too." He still didn't smile, looking down at his lap to avoid me, defeated.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat; even if he was miserable, I liked him dressed like that far too much, trying to kid myself that I was only getting worked up because we were chronically in comfy clothes at home. I fixated on the traffic light in front of us, feeling my cheeks heat again, as if it would be a crime to compliment him. It didn't help the guilt of wanting him so badly while he was obviously unwell. Today's activity wasn't helping either. Ever since he'd given in to me on account of needing to stay in the country, it was taking everything I had not to jump him. I doubted he was that oblivious either.
.
.
He grabbed my arm as I started to get out of the car, jerking me back into my seat with more strength than I thought he had, ignoring my curse. "Are you really sure about this, Garrett? You've honestly thought through what's going to happen if we do this and I die? What you're going to be accountable for?"
"Hey, Carlisle, stop it," I grumbled.
"You have thought about that though, right?" he pressed.
"Yes, but I don't want to think about it." I'd cry - again - if he kept it up.
"But it's not fair - I get to spend the rest of my life with you, and then you have to spend the rest of yours dealing with the mess I leave behind. I should have invested in life insurance before they diagnosed me with anything." It was a little late for that.
"Christ, don't do this right now; I can't deal with it. If you really want to have a conversation about it, we need to have it at home, not right before-"
"I don't think we should sign those papers."
"Carlisle," I groaned. "We've come this far; don't do this."
"No, I mean it. I don't want to. I can't."
"Yes you can. In this scenario, you're dead, right? So why does it matter?" I'd hoped it would shock him enough to shut him up, but even thinking the words made me lightheaded, my eyes starting to burn. "Stop it - we can't be talking about this here."
He pulled me again as I opened my door, latching onto my jacket to stop me trying again. "I don't want to fuck you over."
"You aren't going to die, Carlisle, fucking hell."
"But-"
"Look, I'm at least partially responsible for the stress that triggered some of this - we should go down in flames together at this point." I ignored him when he stubbornly shook his head. "We're going to be late; come." I tugged out of his grip, crossing around the bonnet of the car to open his door. In the few seconds I'd left him alone, he'd dissolved, a few stray tears dripping onto his pants before he could hide it from me. I could barely swallow the lump in my own throat as I bobbed down to level us. "I want to marry you, Carlisle. I know what that means if we lose you, but right now this is our best option - your best option," I reasoned softly.
"I know," he mumbled eventually.
I swallowed. "Please go through with this. Come inside with me?"
He nodded, forcing a few shaky breaths. "Give me a second."
"You can't go in there upset; they'll think you're my hostage," I tried to tease, earning myself a nervous laugh as he tried to wipe his face dry.
"Aren't you supposed to be my hostage, since this benefits me?"
"It benefits me too; I don't want you to go anywhere."
.
.
We got lunch afterwards. Christmas was approaching far faster than I appreciated, and I'd somehow managed to coerce Carlisle into a shopping mall with me. He hadn't said much since he'd legally changed his name, and I was nervously filling the silence as I desperately tried to keep him from regretting it. The scone seemed to help. The tea thawed him out a little as well as he sat at the cafe table across from me.
He feigned interest as I told him about our Christmas dinner responsibilities - thankfully we only needed to bring dessert - and I tried to gauge how much I could tell him without freaking him out. Food was apparently a safe topic. "Am I…am I still invited to family christmas?" he asked after a terribly long silence. "After I broke up with you?"
"I think my parents would rather see you than me - especially after Heidi sent them those photos," I mumbled. It was going to be awkward regardless. I'd been avoiding seeing them ever since that incident.
He trapped my knee between his under the table. "It's not going to be that bad. They're hardly going to want to talk about it over dinner."
I groaned, heat pickling the back of my neck. "I hope not."
There was another long pause. "Are you going to tell them we're married?" Something about it made his cheeks pink and he quickly looked down at the countertop, not watching as I tried to pull the collar of my shirt away from my throat.
"If you want me to. We don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable." I wasn't sure if he'd even told Alistair what we were doing this morning, as much as I still had butterflies from seeing his name conjoined with my surname over two hours earlier. I'd convinced myself that he'd only agreed to come to the mall with me in the first place because he thought I was losing it. He wasn't far off.
"I don't want them to think I'm using you," he told me quietly. "Especially after the affair. I love you; I don't want them to think that I don't, and we did it without a ceremony or telling anyone, and I know it looks really bad now that I'm applying for citizenship."
"We don't have to say anything," I reminded him again. "They're shocked that you're still with me, honestly." Both of them still checked we were together each time I spoke to them. It was painful. I almost doubted they'd believe me if I broke the news to him alone.
He swallowed tightly. "I do want to marry you, Garrett. Just not like this."
And not right now. "I know."
"We can still celebrate though, right?" That was for my benefit. After his meltdown in the car, he'd been making an effort for me - all of this was done in an attempt to please me, no doubt to help smother the inevitable guilt he was crushing himself with.
"Yeah, but we don't have to; we can still pretend that this isn't happening."
He shook his head. "You're doing a lot for me; we should at least have a nice evening."
"It's fine, Carlisle."
.
.
We had food delivered for dinner, after he'd protested to me cooking for us. The break from it was nice. The time we got to spend together while I wasn't in the kitchen was even better. He was becoming far more relaxed about food too - I could feel the difference it was making every time I touched him. I hoped eventually he'd stop feeling so awful all this time.
"I've thought a little bit about moving," he told me eventually. Intensely focused on the brownie on the end of his fork, he'd nearly ruined the dessert, picking it into tiny pieces before compressing it with the utensil.
"Yeah?" I had to curb my tone to avoid sounding too pleased about it, shoving another mouthful between my lips to avoid smiling in case my over-eagerness put him off.
He nodded, shifting in his seat, slouching down against the back of the couch. "Would you want to move closer to your parents? I don't think we'd be able to move to their town because it's so small; I'm going to have to be close enough to get to a major hospital for treatment, but we could shift closer. It would mean you'd need to look for another job, though."
"I'm sure I'd survive finding another career," I teased.
He ignored me and continued. "There are some apartments halfway between them and your brother if you're worried about not seeing Kate as much."
"Is that far enough away to give you piece of mind? We can go further; it doesn't have to be close to them." I had no idea that he'd started looking at places in the first place - this was the first conversation he'd willingly started while he wasn't upset.
"I don't want to make you choose between me and time with your family; I don't want you to be miserable if we move out of state."
"You aren't giving me an ultimatum, Carlisle. I appreciate the thought, but it isn't like I'll never be able to see them again just because we're further away," I reminded him. I reached over to squeeze his thigh, suddenly wishing that we hadn't bothered with the dessert I'd wanted so badly when we'd ordered, seeming as it was now hampering my ability to touch him as much as I'd like to.
"Where would you like to go, then?" His eyes briefly met mine, bringing heat to my face in the second before he glanced away again.
I hesitated. I hadn't seriously considered what area we might end up in, past what we would realistically require in a home - no stairs that he could trip over, a bathroom close to the bedroom so I'd hear if he collapsed during the night, decent heating, good security, pet-friendly - the list went on. I knew I was being pedantic about it, that we'd never find somewhere perfect, but I hoped we could at least find somewhere safe. "I'm not sure, it would be nice to get away from the city center, though."
Giving up on the brownie, he leaned forward to abandon his bowl on the ground. He let me tug him closer to me as he sat back, planting a kiss on my jaw. "That'd be nice." He settled back against me, setting his shoulder under my arm to sink into my side, relaxing as I wrapped my arm around him.
"Alistair isn't coming over tonight, is he?" My hand wandered down his body to rest over his hip, tracing the slither of skin where his shirt had ridden up slightly above his belt.
"Not tonight." He twisted to fit his lips to mine, soft until my hand tightened.
"Good."
.
.
Just like at the hotel, he started to pale once his heart rate crept up, his breathing getting shallower and panicky. His attempts to move against me slowed until he was forced to duck his head against the crook of my neck to fight it, and I was glad we'd opted to come to bed. Still, one hand travelled down my body, resting over the waistband of my underwear. "Need a second," he mumbled to me.
I lightly trailed my hand up and down his spine, guiding his body flush against mine. "Are you dizzy?"
He nodded, his weight giving out against me. "I don't want to stop, I just don't want to faint."
"I don't want you to either." Over the next few minutes, every attempt he made to lift his head, to bring his lips back to mine, was met with another surge of lightheadedness, both of us frustrated. It wasn't going to end well if we carried on like that.
I held his waist as I carefully rolled us, maneuvering him onto his back with my knees either side of his pelvis. Sitting back on my heels, I tugged the pillow down behind his head, slowly watching the colour return to his cheeks as he lay there. "Better?"
He sucked in a deep breath. His hands ran up my thighs to rest on my hips, tangling in the fabric there as he nodded. "Yeah."
"Your heart is okay?"
"Yeah."
I kept one hand planted above his shoulder to keep my weight off of him, the other cupping his face as I leaned down to kiss him, slow until he proved he could handle it. His arms immediately looped around my shoulders, pulling me into him, each kiss more urgent than the last. His hips pushed against mine, his thigh slipping between my legs until it was taking everything I had not to grind against him. "Careful," I whispered to him, silently pleading with him to keep it slow while I didn't have the self control.
"I'm okay," he whispered back.
His teeth split through his lip when I finally slid into him, hips pushing to meet mine as his fingertips dug into my shoulders. Having my husband under me was definitely a novelty. I was so close to finishing, desperately trying to hold off while he was shifting to meet me in all the right places. With my next thrust, his back arched into me, his hand knotting in the bedsheets, and I was finally sure I was hitting exactly where I needed to.
I dropped my lips to his throat, teasing his chest while he moved with me. He was done for the moment I closed my hand around his cock, the crash of endorphins hitting me as he tightened around me. I collapsed into him, both of us panting, his free hand still in my hair.
"I love you," he whispered through the dim lighting. "So much."
My palm came to rest against his face, my thumb gently brushing over his cheek bone. "I love you too." I lay with him for a while longer, until I was sure that he wasn't about to drop the moment he stood. "Do you want to take a shower?" I asked, preempting his next question. We'd end up there anyway, and I hoped we could get back in bed while things were still feeling good - preferably without incident.
The heat of the water quickly made him light headed. Still, he stole kisses, playful as I nudged him back against the wall. The coolness of the tile against his back was enough to shock him awake for a little while. "Are you still alright?" I checked a few minutes in. He'd hesitated, vacant suddenly.
He still nodded obediently.
I didn't believe it.
I got out and tied a towel around my waist once I was finished, heading back into our room to get us both a change of clothes while he went through whatever routine he needed in order to settle for the night. He was looking a little pale when I returned, having managed to dry himself in the time I'd been gone, but leaning against the sink now. "Do you need help to get dressed? You're not too dizzy?" I offered skeptically. Anything to get him sitting down again. As enjoyable as our evening had been, I didn't really approve of the toll it seemed to be taking on him now.
"I'm still alright," he assured me anyway.
I caught his shoulder, kissing his temple. "Please don't hurt yourself." Hovering over him wasn't going to help but I couldn't bring myself to leave him alone. I still had to flee once he started the process of his injections. I quickly stripped the sheets off the bed instead, replacing them with a fresh set while I waited.
He called me into the bathroom a few moments later anyway. His hands were shaking so hard he was struggling to open the foil packaging, breathless suddenly. I'd been stalling for nothing; he hadn't been able to do it himself.
I reached for him rather than the packet. "Come and sit down on the bed, Carlisle." Then neither of us could faint. I didn't have much faith in him, even once he was on the mattress, his spine pressed against the wall, but I was still desperately hoping that I didn't actually have to do it.
It didn't look like his hands were steady enough to be injecting himself with anything. I had to take the cap off the end of the needle for him, both of us wincing as he haphazardly dug it into himself. I was sure he hadn't done it right. He bled a bit, which hadn't happened the previous times, dissociated as I disposed of the sharp for him, not reacting as I held a cotton swab over the small puncture. "Did that hurt?" I asked stupidly, mostly just to prompt him to speak to me. It took a moment for the stars to recede from my vision, but the process hadn't made me as outright nauseous as it had in the past.
He shook his head. Shuffling back enough that he could lie down, he looked more stable once he was flat. "It's not that painful," he assured me.
I was glad I was in my pajamas too. Despite it not being late, I bundled both of us up in the blankets, locking my arms around him as he melted into my side. We were both going to fall asleep anyway. "Wake me up if you're not well during the night."
"Yeah, Gar. I'm good though."
"Good."
.
.
We needed to be more careful. I was still lying in bed the following morning when Carlisle came in to show me the consequences of our - or rather, my - actions. Pulling his t-shirt away from his throat, he laughed a little at my blatant shock at the marks there, obviously left by my mouth. "I have to go outside, you know," he teased. "And we have to see your parents soon."
"I promise I wasn't trying-" I cut myself off. He had bruises up his arms as well. I felt sick. "Are you- I've hurt you."
He shook his head, his smile fading. "You weren't rough; I'm only joking."
"I'm not." I threw the blankets off myself to get up, panicky as I realised the marks on his biceps were where my hands had rested. "Jesus, Carlisle. Are you sure it's not painful? Where else have I-?"
"I'm fine, Garrett, really." He linked his arms around my neck, standing on his toes to kiss me lightly. "You know how easily I've been bruising recently."
I didn't feel any better. I pulled him into a careful hug, smoothing his shirt down his back and blowing out a tight breath. "I'm really sorry; I didn't realise I was-"
"You weren't doing anything I didn't like."
Despite the guilt, I shut my mouth so he wasn't forced to reassure me. I made sure my hands were gentle as I held him now, nervous to touch him in case I worsened anything. He didn't seem to have any reservations about touching me, though; he'd smothered any space between us, his lips against mine again. "Let me make breakfast?" I asked as I pulled back.
We both ignored that I'd be doing that regardless as he nodded. There were still a few hours before I needed to leave for work - enough time that even after we'd eaten and done the washing up, we still ended up back on the couch together.
Alistair appeared just as I was starting to convince myself that I didn't really need my job, that it was perfectly acceptable to stay where I was for the foreseeable future, and that I could get away with watching my partner while he worked on his laptop forever, his legs draped across my lap while he was next to me.
His friend initially looked terribly concerned as we greeted him, but it quickly turned to amusement once he realised what he was looking at. "What the hell were you two doing last night? I hadn't pegged either of you as being into any weird shit."
I felt my face flush and it only spurred him on. Carlisle's eyes never left the screen in front of him as he replied. "We got married, actually; you missed the wedding."
Alistair was grinning and I doubted it had anything to do with what he'd just been told. "You did a hell of a lot more than sign some papers." It was clear we weren't going to hear the end of it any time soon.
"There's food in the oven, if you're hungry, Al," I offered to distract him. It worked to some degree; he was pretty food driven, and I knew him well enough now to guess that he wouldn't have been awake long enough to source his own breakfast.
He helped himself to a serving before sitting across from us. The next snarky remark didn't leave his lips until he'd gotten a few mouthfuls down - long enough that I'd hoped he was going to leave it alone. No such luck. "You've already got the house-wife portion of marriage down, Garrett; I'd marry you just for the dinners."
"Too slow, Alistair," Carlisle told him while he continued to snicker at his own jokes.
"There's a lot I would do for food, you know." That was aimed at me.
"He's well aware of your standards," he told him, waiting long enough before responding that all Al was grinning at having successfully flustered me, pleased as I couldn't stop myself blushing.
"Please, I'm basically a born-again saint at this point," he grumbled. He tossed his phone into Carlisle's lap as he complained about the latest prospects on whatever dating app he was currently using, but I stopped paying attention after I watched my boyfriend unlock the device without having to ask for the passcode. It brought on a sudden wave of insecurity, the guilt over how much they trusted each other boiling down to Carlisle knowing his pin number while he didn't know mine.
Carlisle shuffled around to show me the screen as well, though I could feel my face getting hot every time they asked for my opinion. My heart skipped a little when he showed me a woman's profile. Panicking slightly, I couldn't form a coherent thought past not wanting to argue about it later. It didn't seem like an intentional trap, but it did seem idiotic on my behalf to say anything with my current track record. I tightened my hand over his thigh, sinking down in my seat and hoping they'd drop it. It'd be a relief to go to work at this rate.
"I'm going to die alone," Alistair groaned eventually.
"I think you actually need to turn up to the dates to get anywhere, Al," he teased. "You've got to stop ghosting everyone - people do like you."
"Well, I don't like them."
I so desperately hoped that it wasn't because he still wanted Carlisle.
.
.
The thought of them home alone together turned my stomach far more than it usually did. My coworkers had given up trying to speak to me after I'd been there an hour, and I was relentlessly planning every possible argument that could eventuate if I forced Carlisle to set some boundaries with his friend - as much as I appreciated Al's help, I was going to go insane if he didn't stop it. Although I didn't have any reason to be, I was irrationally upset with both of them by the time I made it home, going as far as creeping into our apartment as though I could catch them in the act of something I didn't want to see. I got what I asked for, really.
"If you didn't want to marry him, why are you still together at all?" Alistair was grumbling. They were still how I'd left them this afternoon, except something was bubbling away on the stove and the cat was draped across Al's chest. The confirmation almost made me sick. I just froze, the front door partially open behind me as I considered running out and never having this conversation at all. Never coming back. Moving to the other side of the world and changing my phone number. Changing my name, maybe.
"I do want to, just not like this," Carlisle mumbled. "When I proposed, we were supposed to be happy together, and now I'm a burden, and I feel like I'm condeeming him to this forever, and- I love him. I don't want him to have agreed to it just because he feels guilty."
"Jesus, Carlisle. You know I'm not his biggest fan, but he obviously cares about you a lot. That's reason enough, isn't it? Especially if you both feel the same way," he argued.
"Yeah, but-"
"There is no 'but'. You're being crazy."
"I know, but-"
Alistair sighed harshly, sitting forward in his seat, Fox squeaking her disapproval when he moved. "I hate to be the person that has to tell you this, but you need to understand that this is your life now. You have a chronic illness; if you're trying to wait until you're no longer ill to get married so you don't feel like you're trapping him, it's never going to happen. If he's willing to accept that this is what your lives are going to look like, then you should as well."
I watched Carlisle flounder for a few agonising seconds from the safety of the kitchen, letting the door click shut when it was clear he couldn't get a response out. "Hey," I started awkwardly once I couldn't stand the silence. It was a struggle to keep my tone light. "What's for dinner?"
They both swore, my husband up and at the stove far too fast, ripping the pot off the element. The colour immediately drained from his face as he stood too quickly. "It was supposed to be pasta, but we didn't have the right sauce so I was trying to boil down-"
I took it off him before he had the chance to burn himself, peeking under the lid before I set it down. "It still looks fine, Carlisle, I'll blend it in a second." He wasn't listening when I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. We'd been dealing with this long enough to be able to recognise the oncoming faint. "Sit on the floor for a minute; you can't be jumping up like that, Carlisle, you're going to hurt yourself." I crouched in front of him as he did what he was told, pressing his spine against the cupboards while my hands rested on his knees.
"I don't want to burn dinner," he told me once the feeling had faded. "I think I'm okay to cook tonight, I was just distracted."
"I'd rather you didn't," I argued.
"But you shouldn't have to do this every night; if this is us forever, then-"
"If I have to cook us dinner for the rest of our lives, I will."
"I love you." He caught the front of my shirt, tugging me closer.
I had to catch myself on the bench to keep from falling forwards, kissing the top of his head. Whatever I'd been worried about before didn't seem as important now. "Please be careful with yourself. I need you in one piece."
.
.
I waited until we were lying in bed before I brought it up. I felt for his hand under the covers, trapping it and holding it against my chest. "I need you to do something for me," I started carefully.
"Of course." He pulled his hand free only to link his fingers through mine, squeezing.
"I need you to tell Alistair to back off a bit; I know we need him here, and I know he's your best friend, but if he's just your friend, then I need him to stop flirting with you. He's not going to listen to me but it's driving me crazy, and I really can't stand to see his hands on you when they don't need to be," I explained in a rush. My body was suddenly tight, and I tried to make out the tiles on the ceiling through the darkness as my heart raced. When he didn't immediately respond, I rushed to fill the gap. "I know it's selfish coming from me after what I put you through, but I can't- I really don't like how close you two are sometimes and it makes me really nervous."
He shifted, closer now, his arm slipping over my waist and his cheek on my shoulder. "Okay. I'll talk to him, Garrett."
I didn't calm down any. "I don't want to make a big deal out of this and I don't want to upset you, I just-"
"It's fine; I'll talk to him, I promise. Did I say something that bothered you?"
I swallowed. "Not specifically."
"Okay."
"Just okay?" Slowly, my pulse started to calm, the deep breaths I was forcing started to take effect.
"Yeah. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, and I'll talk to him tomorrow. You're allowed to tell me when things don't feel right, Gar, you're not condemned to having to do whatever I want just because of the past," he explained softly.
I wriggled my arm out from under his to wrap around him. "Thank you."
There was another long pause before he spoke again, so long that I'd started to fall asleep. "I'd really like it if we told people that we're married."
"I'd like that too." Grinning now, I trailed my hand down his back, fully awake again. "You're really okay if I call you my husband? Like in front of my family and our friends?"
"Yeah. You are, aren't you?" he teased gently.
"Sure am."
.
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