Chapter Text
For the past month, Fitz has been running around town planning for this damn wedding, wasting his phone battery on hold and comparing way more fabrics than he'd thought he'd ever see. Marella and Biana helped where they could, telling him he was doing too much, insisting that they don't need peonies at the wedding. But then Fitz thinks about his little sister getting married without her favorite flowers and decides he'd rather die, so, running around town it is.
Fitz had hoped that his co-best man would maybe keep silent and not be a bother during this time, but he has been sorely disappointed. Keefe really wants to be involved. He emails Fitz every day asking about something new: Did they have enough plates? Should the flower vases be tall or short? What if it rained and everything got soggy real fast?
When Fitz gets the now-familiar email notifications, he has to take a moment to hold back a building scream. If anything ruins Biana's big day, it'll probably be that the second best man's flight from fucking Australia gets cancelled and all the pictures have a conspicuously empty spot beside Marella, where Keefe will eventually have to be photoshopped in.
And Fitz doesn't know how to photoshop. At all.
But it's fine. The wedding has been planned, though just barely. They're being catered by Chipotle and it's taking place in the Vacker's backyard and there are peonies everywhere, so Biana thinks it's absolutely perfect.
"Oh, you did incredible!" she squeals, throwing her arms around Fitz. "I literally love you."
"I'd hope so," Fitz mutters against her hair, his anxiety waning just the slightest. "Where's Marella?"
"Getting ready. Which I should go do too."
"Mom and Dad?"
"Dealing with all the family members that decided to show up a couple hours early—"
"What?
"But don't worry about it," Biana finishes, smiling wryly.
"And..." Fitz doesn't want to think about it, but he supposes he can't put it off any longer. "Keefe?"
"Um. Still asleep."
Fitz's world blurs before his eyes. Still fucking asleep. Just barely, he chokes out, "What?"
Biana looks apologetic. "But don't freak out, please. I'm the only one who can freak out today."
"Yeah, but you won't, because you know I've been doing all the freaking out for you."
"Thank you."
"Ugh, just go get ready." He shoos her away and mutters, "I guess I'll just learn to photoshop."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're so weird," Biana says fondly before rushing out.
Fitz stands there for a moment, watching his sister go. The next time he sees her it'll be in a lacy white dress, standing at the altar. He blinks quickly, deciding now is too early to get emotional, then whips out his phone and starts tapping.
To: Keefe Sencen <[email protected]>
From: Fitz Vacker <[email protected]>
Re: Vacker-Redek Wedding Planning
Hi Keefe,
Biana tells me you're asleep. Please tell me that's not true. The wedding that we have been planning for the past month is in two hours. Relatives that Biana has never met have already showed up. Please be awake.
Reply ASAP.
Regards,
Fitz Vacker
The moment he sends it, he collapses into a garden chair. Dealing with Keefe Sencen is exhausting. Fitz really likes Marella too, so it'd be a shame if all of her friends were this challenging. He isn't sure how someone can behave like this and still consider himself a valuable and functioning member of society.
As Fitz stews in outrage, his eyes drift closed, and they stay shut for the next two hours.
He comes to with an ache in his neck and a weird taste in his mouth. Music is playing, and he remembers this song from the wedding playlist he'd curated and been listening nonstop to for two weeks. Fitz tries to remember the band, but is distracted by whoever's shaking his shoulder.
"Huh?" he says groggily, unwilling to open his eyes.
God. It's been so long since he's actually slept. He feels calmer. Smarter. He hates when people are right about the benefits of sleep.
"Hey, Fitz," an unfamiliar voice says. "Hate to wake you but um, we kind of need you at the altar."
What?
Fitz opens his eyes, and panic hits him like a brick. There are people. Everywhere. "Holy shit," he says once, then again, "Holy shit."
"Oh, um," says the person by his side who Fitz can't even bother looking at right now. "Quieter, maybe? Your grandparents have been here a while."
"My grandparents," Fitz wheezes. "And you didn't wake me up?"
"Your sister said to let you sleep."
Fitz feels dizzy, which isn't helped when he whirls around, finger pointed and mouth ready to fire off. But the moment he gets a good look at the man standing by him, he forgets how to be angry. His jaw is suddenly slack.
This guy is sort of gorgeous?
Fitz's face flushes red and he dearly hopes he wasn't drooling in his sleep, hopes he isn't being too obvious when his eyes linger on the silhouette of that perfectly fitted suit. Unfortunately, he's always been weak for blonds.
"Who are you?" he asks. The man doesn't have that tense energy every Vacker carries despite endless therapy. He must be from Marella's side, then. But Fitz has met most of her friends, and—
The realization hits him just as the man responds, "I'm Keefe!"
What a stupid name.
Fitz instantly recoils. "You?"
"Got your email!" Keefe says cheerfully. "It's funny, I was just pulling into the parking lot when you sent it. But then I got here and you were... you know, asleep! So I figured I'd let you be."
"No," Fitz groans. "I was busy. There are so many last-minute things—"
"Oh, don't worry. I got it all handled."
Fitz has never felt this terrified. Doom numbs his entire face. "What did you do?"
"Um, I just talked to the caterers and got that table set up, so the food's heated and ready." Keefe points to a long row of food trays at the side. "Put the centerpieces on all the tables." Fitz spots the short vases they'd eventually decided on. "Talked Biana down when she thought she couldn't fit into the dress."
"What? She tried it on yesterday." Fitz can't believe he missed Biana's first wedding emergency.
"It fit perfectly. She forgot to do the zipper all the way down," Keefe says with a laugh. His smile is maybe the best smile Fitz has seen in his entire life. So annoying. "The bar's set up, so everyone's a perfect level of tipsy right now. Got most people to their seats. The officiant's ready. So are the brides. We're set to go, just needed to get you up."
"Oh."
"So, you ready?"
Fitz blinks away the last remnants of sleep, stands and smooths down his suit. "You're sure everything's taken care of?"
"Everything," Keefe promises.
Another thing Fitz has always been weak for: competency.