Chapter Text
"What was your favorite part?" John asked Paul a few nights later, when they were lying in the king-sized bed in their room at the Hotel George V. It was leaps and bounds more luxurious than the places they'd stayed the first time they went to Paris together. "Of the wedding, I mean."
"Well," Paul said. "Let me think."
Despite his doubts, the ceremony went off without a hitch. John could still see it when he closed his eyes. The music, a gorgeous lilting piano version of Canon in D, fading in as the groomsmen walked up in the aisle in pairs: Ivan and Eric, Mike and Pete, and the best men, George and Ringo. John entered with his arm through Mimi's, and Paul was behind them with his father. They had stood facing each other, holding hands but unable to make eye contact for fear of becoming overwhelmed, as the officiant spoke about love and commitment and understanding, and as they repeated after her the words of the vows they'd chosen: I take you to be my spouse from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, for all the days of our lives.
When it was time to exchange rings, Paul was so flustered that he held up his right hand. Always a lefty having to overcompensate in a right-handed world. "Your other left, baby," John said, and their eyes met by mistake, and they smiled at each other. I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. The ring was warm as Paul slid it back onto John's finger where it belonged.
"I'm glad we didn't do comedy vows," Paul said. "It wouldn't have aged well."
"Yeah. Would have been embarrassing to explain to the grandkids." John had briefly considered adding "to aid and abet" to the vows but Mimi threatened to object on the grounds that John was clearly a child, so he dropped it. "The kiss?"
"The kiss was good. Pretty much how I thought it would be, you falling on me."
"But not your favorite part?"
"I didn't say that."
When the officiant said "I now declare you spouses for life," John couldn't wait for her to say that they could kiss. He pulled Paul close to him, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do. Paul's hands pressed into his back, and the smell of Paul's shampoo filled his nose, and this was his husband in his arms. The only person he would ever want for the rest of his life. Their friends and families cheered for them but John wasn't really listening. All he could hear was Paul breathing.
"I liked the music," Paul said, yawning. "It was lovely of George and Richie to record a song for us."
"Their present to us was the song and our present to them was buggering off to Paris and letting them relax."
As they walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, reaching out to hug or shake hands with their guests, George and Ringo's wedding present played as the processional music: a cover of "This Must Be the Place" they'd recorded, Ringo keeping time with soft brushes on his drums and George layering multi-tracks on his ukulele. They heard it as the walked out of the hall and as they waited for the officiant to meet them outside the anteroom to sign the license.
"What about the reception?" John asked. "I had fun."
"It was fun. Especially the first dance."
The only dance John really knew was an over-the-top waltz, usually done for comedic purposes or when he'd had one too many, so for their first dance they settled on a simple swaying two-step, hands together and Paul resting his cheek on John's shoulder. It was the sort of thing that they had both dreamed about when they were younger, not knowing that the other wanted exactly the same thing. "So was that your favorite?"
"Mm, no. I don't think so."
"Then what was it? The food? The flowers? Smashing a piece of cake into my face? All our friends getting on the dance floor and doing the Thriller dance? Stealing the DJ's mic and singing 'Shout'? Give me a hint, at least."
"You know what my favorite part was?" Paul asked. "Sitting on that bench in the hallway while we were waiting to sign the license."
"That was your favorite part of our wedding?" John asked. "Of all things?"
There was a bench in the hallway outside the room where everyone - John and Paul, their best men, and the officiant - was going to meet to sign the license. They sat down to wait for the crowd to thin enough to let the others get through. John sprawled on the bench, boneless with relief, and Paul rested his head on John's shoulder. Paul's hand found John's and slipped into it. They hadn't said a word, or even looked at each other. They needed the silence and the feeling of each other for just a minute before they got back to the ceremonials of the wedding.
"Yeah, I think it was. You know, I woke up early and spent the whole day micromanaging everything from my room, and I was so nervous it was hard to step back and say to myself, 'you're getting married today, enjoy it.' And then you had your crisis and I was panicking before I went to speak to you. And then, we had to stand up in front of all our friends and family and stay composed when all I wanted to do was throw myself at you. So, finally, we've exchanged vows and rings, we're out of the ceremony, and we get five minutes to ourselves. That was all I needed, just to rest with you for a bit so I could get myself ready for the reception. I got to lean on you and feel you properly for the first time all day. I had you all to myself."
It had been nice, having that little moment just for the two of them. It had been warm in the hall during the ceremony but it was cooler outside. It was quiet, with no one coughing or murmuring. John's pulse had slowed and he didn't feel like he was going to leap out of his skin. Paul was there. That was all John needed, really. "I forgot about that until now," John said. "But you're right. We needed a minute to ourselves."
"I really felt so much better afterwards."
"And look at you now," John said. "You've got me all to yourself."
Paul rolled himself on top of John and kissed him. "Right where I want you," he said.