Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had been a mistake to let Sophie plan their wedding.

Eliot figured it was the perfect solution. It seemed like the kind of thing Sophie would enjoy, like a permeation of being a grifter, planning out the perfect event. And, like it was a job, he would show up, and do what she said.

And then she told him the plan.

"What is this?" he asked, as he flipped through the binder Sophie had presented to him.

"A wedding!"

"No," Eliot said. "A wedding is you in a white dress, me in a tux, we say vows, eat cake, go have sex."

"Must you be so traditional?"

"Must you be so . . . this?"

"It's a New Age wedding!" Sophie said. "We'll hold it at midnight New Year's Eve. Parker will perform the handclasping ceremony."

"The what?"

"It's a way of symbolizing our bond."

"But we're going to actually get married, too, right? You know, 'I do' and all that crap?"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

Eliot paused. "Is that because I called it 'crap'?"

"Mmm, it didn't help your case."

"Okay," Eliot said. "So, when I said, 'Will you marry me?' and you said, 'Yes,' you didn't really mean yes?"

"Of course I meant yes."

"Then let's get married! Minister, rings, flower girl!"

"But this is so much more powerful! Which would you rather have, a piece of paper—which, may I remind you, we'd have to use fake names on—or the knowledge that we have throughly committed ourselves to each other in front of our friends?"

"Yeah, I'm going to want the piece of paper."

Sophie sighed. "You are so unimaginative."

"You want imaginative? Did I ever tell you about the time I killed—"

"Not while we're planning our wedding."

"Wait," Eliot said, finally seeing the flaw in her argument. "We?"

"A wedding does, after all, require two people." Sophie paused. "At least two. I've attended some lovely polyamorous ceremonies."

"You mean, like, three people?"

"Or more."

"That's . . . . not the point," Eliot said, though he made a mental note to ask her more about that later. "I should get a say in this too, right?"

"If you insist."

"I want something traditional," he said.

"I'm not wearing a white dress."

"That's okay," Eliot said.

"And we're still going to have to use fake names."

"I know."

"Can we still have the handclasping ceremony?"

"As long as we get the stupid piece of paper."

"Then," Sophie said, leaning over to kiss him. "I think we'll have the perfect wedding."