Archive of Our Own

Caspar was woken in the middle of the night by Naruto hurtling onto the bed like a small furry cannonball. His eyes snapped open, and he could dimly see the writhing shape— normally orange, but washed out by moonlight-- trying to burrow beneath the covers. There was no question about what had startled the cat so badly, though. Someone was hammering on the door. He checked the clock; it was about 5AM, so it had to be something pretty crazy. Even if it wasn’t that early for him, none of their friends would risk Linhardt’s withering scorn at such an early hour unless it was an emergency.

Speaking of Linhardt… he glanced down at his fiance, wondering if he’d managed to sleep through the relentless noise. Sleeping through things was one of Linhardt’s many impressive talents, after all. For a second he thought Linhardt had managed it, but then Naruto’s tail flicked him in the cheek and Linhardt’s face contorted with disgust— for the early hour, probably. No one could stay mad at Naruto.

“I got it babe,” Caspar told him, leaning down to kiss his cheek before levering himself out of bed. He thought he could dimly hear Linhardt say ‘oh, my hero’ or something else like that, tone equal parts sarcastic and reverent as Caspar headed towards the door. 

The banging noise didn’t stop for a single second, which, wow. Didn’t their hand hurt?  Caspar kind of wanted to try looking for their other cat to make sure he was okay too— they’d had Naruto for a couple years now, so it made sense he’d trust them enough to come hide in their bed, but Professor Sasuke was new to the little family as of two months ago, so he was probably somewhere else in the apartment right now. 

(Caspar had promised Linhardt he could name their next cat, but when their next cat turned out to be a rescued black kitten— it was just too perfect! So they’d compromised. Professor was his first name, naturally.)

He really wanted to take a second to look for him, maybe to check under the couch or behind the curtains, but whoever was knocking just sounded so desperate.  Caspar stumbled blearily to the door, turning the lock. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, and pulled the door open— and then instantly regretted it.

Cedric scowled at him from across the threshold, arm raised to strike the door again.

“Uh oh,” Caspar said loudly, and tried to close the door on his older brother.  Cedric saw him go for it and shoved against the door, and for a moment they struggled against each other, wrestling to have control of the door. It ended with Cedric stepping into his space and shouldering him into the front hall, following him in and slamming the door behind him.

“Man, can’t believe dad was right,” he said with a curled lip, surveying the front room. “You do live in a shithole.”

“Hey now,” Caspar replied. That was kind of unfair! Sure, it wasn’t as nice as the house they grew up in, and maybe it was sort of small, and maybe people peed in the elevator sometimes, but he liked their apartment! Some of their friends lived in the building too, and it let them keep their cats, and there was enough room for all of Linhardt’s gadzillion books, and really that was all they needed. Arguing with Cedric never got him anywhere, though. He wasn’t that much smaller than him these days, but the last thing he wanted to do was get into a brawl here in the front room and scare the cats further. The noise would probably piss Linhardt off too.

Speaking of which.

“Wow, Cedric, what are you doing here? It’s wild seeing my BROTHER, HERE, in my apartment,” Caspar said at the top of his lungs, trying to project his voice down to the bedroom. Ideally Linhardt would hear and not come out. He’d just figure out what Cedric needed and send him on his way, and then they’d have to move and change their names and never come back here again, which sucked. He really did like this apartment. 

See, that was the thing. When they’d moved in together after college, he and Linhardt had decided not to tell either of their families that they were living together— or even that they were dating. Linhardt never cared what his family thought of him, but Caspar knew if they’d told Lin’s dad it’d get back to his, and then his brother would know, and that would be a whole mess. 

A whole mess that was basically unfolding right now. 

Cedric seemed unimpressed by his theatrics, and shot a glance down the hall. “You’ve got some chick over, huh,” he said, “She the one you’re marrying?”

Oh. Oh no. Caspar gaped at him, and Cedric smirked, seeming to know he had the upper hand now. “That’s right. Dad heard a rumor you’re getting married and told me to come see for myself. He probably wants to know if you’re gonna turn up begging for money or something and wanted me to tell you not to bother.”

That stung a bit. Caspar hadn’t asked for anything after school, when he’d finally told his father he had no interest in working for the family company. “Uh, absolutely not,” he said, frowning at the way his voice jumped a little. “You can tell Dad he doesn’t have to worry about that.” Damn, what was it about Cedric that shook him up like this? When they were kids they’d fight like cats and dogs and Cedric had hurt him pretty bad a couple times, but they hadn’t physically fought since their mid teens. Caspar even saw him on holidays sometimes, when the Bergliez family gatherings didn’t clash with whatever his friends had planned, and every time he made him shake like a little kid. This sucked.

Cedric scoffed at him and wandered further into the apartment, and Caspar trailed him anxiously. He knew if he told him to stop or not to touch anything it would only spur him on. He just wished they’d maybe tidied the apartment a little more last night. The front room was a mess of papers, books, and cat toys just lying wherever they’d left them. One of Caspar’s hoodies lay wadded up on the floor, and Cedric stepped over it with an expression of distaste. Caspar crept after him, filled with a mix of shame and indignation. It was so rude to just walk in here like this! One of Linhardt’s books lay open, pages down, on the couch, and Cedric picked it up to look at it, losing the marked place. Caspar felt himself fume. He’d seen Linhardt put that book down like that before dinner last night, he KNEW it was deliberate and he was planning to come back to it…!

Cedric turned the book over in his hand with raised eyebrows. “I know this isn’t yours, so your little girlfriend must be kind of a nerd, huh?”

Caspar choked. “I— The— they’re a doctor! Not a medicine doctor but the other kind, you know—”

“Yeah, I figured if you were marrying a real doctor you’d at least live in a less shitty part of town,” Cedric said, dropping the book again. “Guess at least you’re still the breadwinner even being, what, a preschool teacher?” 

“A P.E. teacher,” Caspar said, in abject misery. “I dunno why you said it like that, I know some of the preschool teachers and they’re real nice, they’ve really got their hands full-- ”

“Oh, sorry, a P.E. teacher,” Cedric repeated, with just as much scorn as before if not more.  “Well, wake your girl up and introduce me. I’ve gotta be heading back.”

Caspar froze. “Oh, that’s—”

“Come on, what’s the deal? Is she ugly?” Caspar shook his head mutely. “Oh, shit, you didn’t get her pregnant already, did you? Dad’s gonna have a cow.”

“No! I—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Cedric stepped closer, and Caspar backed up. The couch hit the back of his knees and he sat down hard. “I just wanna see what kinda chick my baby brother’s been able to bag, what’s wrong with that?”

“Excuse me.”  As one the two of them swung their heads around towards the dark hallway, and Caspar could make out the form of Linhardt at the bedroom door, mouth pressed into a line and arms folded tight in front of him. His hair was tangled, he was wearing only a large tshirt, and he looked massively uncomfortable. He was also the most beautiful thing Caspar had ever seen. 

He heard Cedric make a choked noise, but Linhardt talked right over him, voice clipped and direct. “Ashe texted you. He’s coming over early. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” Caspar had totally forgotten he and Ashe’s running arrangements for today, in the shock of seeing Cedric.

“Oh… cool,” he said, totally overwhelmed.

Linhardt leaned against the doorframe, as if he’d steeled himself to come out and say that and now that he had he had no energy or courage remaining. He really was so far away— Caspar didn’t blame him, though. He wasn’t the only one who’d suffered Cedric’s bullying when they were children.

For a second Caspar felt safer than he had all morning, content in the knowledge that his fiance had come to back him up, and the truth he’d been hiding for almost fifteen years was out in the open.  Even if there were consequences for that he couldn’t help but feel relieved; he’d never been good at keeping secrets. Then Cedric was stepping away from him and around the couch, towards Linhardt. Caspar bolted to his feet.

“Wait, really?” Cedric said, incredulous. “Ew, so every time you stayed over you guys were actually—”

“Leave,” Linhardt said, his tone amazingly cold and hard for someone who was basically pinned against the wall by an angry man who, while shorter, was at least twice as broad. 

“That’s so fucked up. Dad’s gonna lose his shit,” Cedric was saying, as Caspar reached him and grabbed his shoulder. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he felt white hot with rage. Linhardt was staring at them with narrowed eyes but Caspar could see his fear. He didn’t really think Cedric would hit either of them, not really, but he couldn’t push the thought away either.

“Hello?”

Ashe’s uncertain voice had never sounded so welcome. 

“The door’s unlocked so I just— is everything okay?” 

Cedric glanced over Caspar’s shoulder and his eyes widened, and Caspar turned to look as well. Ashe was standing there in what looked like his pajamas and the cat-ear slippers that they’d gotten him for his birthday last year, but he wasn’t alone— standing behind him was a man Caspar didn’t recognize and he was huge . He wore a serious expression, and carried a shopping bag in either hand full of… groceries? Caspar blinked, and Cedric took the moment to pull his shoulder from his grasp.

“Whatever. Don’t expect Dad to be okay with this,” he told them, and then stomped towards the door. Ashe and the stranger stepped aside to let him go, and then Ashe was rushing over to the two of them. 

“Are you two okay? I was so worried when I got Linhardt’s text, I ran here as fast as I could.” Indeed, on closer inspection Ashe’s cheeks were pink with exertion, although thankfully he didn’t live far— a year ago he’d moved into the same apartment building, and lived just a few floors above them. 

“Physically, we’re fine,” Linhardt drawled as if it was a joke, but Caspar felt his fingers nudge against the back of his hand. Of course he took Linhardt’s hand in his right away. He could feel Linhardt’s hand trembling, and he tried to squeeze his hand comfortingly. Linhardt was still speaking, in that distant and cool way of his.  “My apologies, Ashe, I would not have summoned you if I knew you had company.”

“What?” Ashe said, and then went beet red. “Oh!” he squeaked, “No! This is my new neighbor, I ran into him in the hall and I guess I looked freaked out so he offered to come with me—”

“I was grocery shopping,” the stranger said, lifting one of the bags. At five in the morning? Seemed weird, but whatever. More importantly, the phrase ‘new neighbor’ was jogging Caspar’s memory of a conversation they’d had a week or so ago. “Oh,” he said and then mouthed to Ashe, ‘The handsome one?’. Ashe’s eyes bugged out of his head and he didn’t respond, but Caspar was sure he was right. Like, sure, he was an engaged man, but even he could acknowledge this guy was pretty good looking.

“Well, thank you for your timely rescue,” Linhardt said, “I’m going back to bed.” He turned on his heel to go back into the bedroom.

“Wait!” Ashe said, “let me at least introduce you.”

Linhardt yawned through the introductions— they learned the new neighbor’s name was Dedue. Caspar shook his hand eagerly, sizing him up. He seemed nice. He’d come to Ashe’s aid, anyway, and that was a pretty nice thing to do. Hm, yes, maybe this person was worthy of his bud’s affections after all. 

Linhardt disappeared into the bedroom, returning a moment later with his arms full of Naruto. “Take your cat,” he told Caspar, bundling the creature onto his lap.

“Aw. He’s your cat too,” Caspar told him, scritching under Naruto’s chin just how he liked it.

“Not when he’s making biscuits when I’m trying to sleep,” Linhardt told him sternly, and then vanished again, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Caspar said, mostly for Dedue’s benefit; Ashe knew how Linhardt could be and wouldn’t take it personally. “I mean, sorry about the whole thing, I guess,” he added, thinking back on it. “My bro’s kind of an ass. I never thought he’d show up here.”

“Is… everything going to be okay?” Ashe asked, probably thinking back to Cedric’s threats as he’d left. Caspar shrugged.

“Probably. I mean, we’re both grown ass adults. Our dads can’t physically make us do anything at this point, right?” Caspar was aware it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but he honestly didn’t know what was going to happen next. Ashe put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” Dedue said, “I hate to interrupt, but is this one also your cat?” He was holding his shopping bags out away from his body, an expression of concern on his face, as Professor Sasuke scaled one of his legs.

“Sasuke!” Caspar gasped, going to disentangle the kitten. Ashe followed to coo over the creature— anyone with a heart would, Sasuke was cute as hell— and the conversation was forgotten. 

…

It was almost time to get ready for work by the time the two of them left and Caspar returned to the dark bedroom. He shut the door gently in Naruto’s face and went to go sit on the edge of the bed. Linhardt was a dark shape beneath the covers, face turned against the wall. 

“Hey,” he said. For a second he thought Linhardt was going to pretend to be asleep.

“Yes?” Linhardt replied finally, voice hushed in the darkness.

Caspar didn’t actually know how to open this conversation. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, like, do you want me to stay home from work today , or thank you for texting Ashe to rescue us from my horrible brother , or sorry about my horrible brother , or our son Sasuke is very strong and I just spent 10 minutes peeling him off a man that I think Ashe has a crush on , or what should we do?

“You okay?” he finally settled on. Linhardt’s shoulders shifted in a way that Caspar knew meant he was silently snorting with laughter. He waited. 

“As okay as one can be after being menaced by that brute of a man,” Linhardt said finally with a dramatic sigh, and that’s when Caspar knew he was fine. 

“Aw, you know if it came down to it I’d fight him off for you,” Caspar teased back, feeling the tension leave him. He didn’t know if he could actually beat Cedric, but he was also pretty sure it wouldn’t come down to it. Or at least, he’d hoped it wouldn’t.

Linhardt laughed again, this time not quite so soundlessly, and then rolled onto his back to look up at him. “I’ve turned my phone off. I don’t feel like dealing with my father on quite so little sleep. I may take the cats to see Bernadetta today in case someone tries to come by the apartment.”

Caspar beamed. As always, Linhardt had a pretty good plan. “I’ll come pick you up from there, then. You sure you don’t want me to stay home?” Linhardt hadn’t exactly said so either way, but that was the vibe Caspar was getting from the plan he’d laid out. 

“No, as much as I treasure your company I cannot in good conscience keep you to myself,” Linhardt replied, “your students would miss you entirely too much. I’ll manage just fine.” 

“Awww, but you’ll miss me too, ya big softy,” Caspar said, and leaned over to kiss him. “I better get ready for work, then.”

“Hm… one more and then I’ll let you go,” Linhardt murmured, his hand finding its way to the back of Caspar’s neck.

In the end, Caspar was almost late to work, but it was totally worth it.

…

As he was leaving for the day he checked his phone. He’d meant to check at lunch, but then Forde had gotten himself stuck in a tree trying to hide from the teachers and despite his claims that he’d be happy living up in the branches and never returning to class, Caspar had been called in to extricate him safely from it. It had been a whole thing and by the time he’d not only gotten him safely to the ground but discovered and squashed the betting pool on whether he’d be able to do so, lunch break had been over. So it was only while he was heading to the parking lot that he discovered he had two missed calls from his father, and a text from his brother that said only, You really fucked up now .

Damn. Well, okay. He didn’t really want to think about it, so instead he went to the store and bought a cake for Bernadetta, as a token of thanks for babysitting his fiance and cats today, and got in the car to head back. His phone rang, and he reached to mute it, thinking it was his father. At the last moment, he saw Edelgard’s name flash on the screen, but it was too late— he’d already denied the call. He set the cake down on the passenger seat and fumbled to call her back.

“Hey, Edelgard!” he said when she picked up. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Caspar,” she replied, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I wanted to make sure you were aware that your father has discovered your engagement.”

“Oh.” Caspar’s smile dropped off his face. “Yeah. Cedric came over this morning and figured it out. Why, what’d he say?”

“Ah. I just wasn’t sure. He said a few things, but I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in hearing disparaging remarks about my old classmates, and he does need my company’s support.” She paused, and then her tone softened as she continued. “I’m sorry. Do the two of you need anything?”

“Nah, we’ll be fine. The only thing we need out of you is the rsvp for the wedding,” Caspar replied, giving a thumbs up that she couldn’t see. She laughed anyway.

“Yes, I’ll do my best to make time. I’ll see you then.”

They ended the call and Caspar sat in his car for a moment, staring at his phone. Then he drove back to the apartment building, and climbed the extra flight of stairs to get to Bernadetta’s door. He knocked and after a moment heard a flurry of movement on the other side. 

“Who’s there?” she called through the door, as always.

“I keep telling ya, you gotta get a stool so you can see out the peephole,” Caspar told her, and she opened the door with a smile.  Her apartment was always a little cluttered— she basically never left and never seemed prepared for the idea of company— but he always thought it was cozy. Especially with the scene before him; Linhardt was sleeping on the couch, Naruto curled up on his back, and Professor Sasuke was wrestling with some yarn on the floor.

“He has, um, a lot of energy, doesn’t he?” Bernadetta asked, nudging the kitten gently with her foot. Sasuke swatted at her sock with his paw. 

“Oh yeah, he’s a chip off the old block,” Caspar said cheerfully, kneeling down to pet him. “Also, I brought this for you,” he said, handing over the cake. Bernadetta’s face lit up. 

“You have to stay and have some,” she insisted, and that’s how he ended up sitting on the floor with a kitten on his lap and protecting his slice from the creature’s schemes. Across from him, Linhardt slumped drowsily against the sofa, working his way through his own piece of cake. Bernadetta could not sit still, eating a bite and then jumping up to get drinks for everyone, then double checking the door was locked, then making sure she’d closed the cake box securely so it wouldn’t get stale, but Caspar was used to that too, after knowing her for years now. After her third time getting up, Linhardt plopped Naruto in her lap. 

“Hold him,” he commanded, before returning to his cake, and she settled down to stroke the cat’s orange fur.

Caspar watched them both with a grin. Yeah, if this is what life was like, then it didn’t matter if his dad was pissed at him and if Cedric hated him now. This was all he needed.

…

His dad stopped trying to call him after a week. Linhardt turned his phone back on around the same time, and fielded a rather stony phone call from his father. There was no yelling, but from Caspar’s experience Linhardt’s dad wasn’t much of a yeller anyway, so that was no way to judge. Linhardt finally hung up and sat there staring at his phone, face grim.

“...Well?” Caspar said after a moment.

“It’s worse than I expected,” Linhardt said, and Caspar frowned. Did he disown him? That sucked, but he didn’t think Linhardt would care about that. “He… wants to come to the wedding,” Linhardt grumbled.

“The wedding, or the wedding ?” Caspar asked.  They had a bit of an arrangement. Caspar had wanted a party. Linhardt had wanted to elope. So they were getting married with just the two of them, and then they had a reception in the evening, and that’s what they kept calling ‘the wedding’. 

“Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t care. He’s only allowed at the evening bit anyway.” Linhardt was scowling, but Caspar got a sense that he was secretly relieved. He reached over to rub his back and Linhardt leaned into the touch, eyes falling shut. 

“Getting married is a real inconvenience,” Linhardt muttered, and Caspar laughed. 

“Only two more months! Then you don’t have to worry about anything,” Caspar told him.

…

It wasn’t like he could just forget about the wedding until then, though. There was a surprising amount to do.

When they sent invitations out, it only made sense to hand deliver the ones that went to their few friends that lived in the building. Caspar was surprised that Linhardt agreed and even volunteered to walk with him to drop them off.  First they brought one to Bernadetta, who seemed flustered but assured them she’d try to come. Then they delivered one to Ashe. 

In general it seemed like wedding invitations were just a formality in the first place— they’d sent out something called ‘save the dates’ already, which Caspar didn’t really understand why those weren’t just invitations— but it was doubly so for Ashe, who’d been basically the first person to find out they were engaged. In fact, Ashe was one of two people who’d been invited as witnesses to the actual wedding (Marianne was the other), so it just seemed silly to hand him a physical invitation after all the discussion they’d already had about the day.

He said as much as he handed over the envelope, and Ashe laughed, but then Linhardt said, “This does come with a particular condition.”

“He already said yes to the witness thing,” Caspar said, “and to backing me up if someone tries to duel me for your hand or something.”

“What? No, never mind. Anyway, you will see that the invitation comes with a ‘plus one’ corollary— I’d like you to invite our neighbor from the other night.”

“Huh?” Ash squawked.

“You know, the handsome stranger that came to your aid when you were in obvious distress?” Linhardt cupped his chin with one hand, as if studying Ashe closely. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Watching Linhardt be a bit of a bully was more fun when it was directed at someone else, Caspar thought. Well, a different kind of fun.

“No, no, I know who you’re talking about,” Ashe replied, putting up his hands defensively, “It’s just...”

“Oh, my apologies,” Linhardt replied, “Were you intending to go with someone else?”

“...Well, no,” Ashe admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Then it really shouldn’t be a problem,” Linhardt said, smirking with triumph at having gotten his way.  God, he was so cute. 

Ashe told them he’d ask, and that was that. As they headed down the stairs back to their floor, Caspar glanced at Linhardt with admiration. “That was pretty cool,” he said, “I didn’t know you cared so much about Ashe’s love life, though.” Once or twice Ashe had asked Caspar romantic advice about this or that crush, although he didn’t seem that impressed by gems like ‘get really buff so you can pick them up when they get tired’ or ‘have someone else race you to eat as many slugs as possible during recess so the subject of your affections will gently tend to you while you throw them all back up’. It’d worked for Caspar, so he didn’t know why Ashe wasn’t willing to give it a try.

Linhardt sighed. “I got stuck behind them in the stairwell the other day while they tried to greet each other. It was excruciating. I can’t go through that again. Ideally if they get together they can do their stammering and loaded silences in the privacy of their own apartments.”

“Yeah, whatever, you talk a big game but I know you just want Ashe to be happy,” Caspar teased, digging his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. Linhardt sent him a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised.

“Oh no, you’ve discovered the secret of my impenetrable facade,” Linhardt said, his voice flat but a small smile on his face. Caspar thought he might tease him a bit more, but Professor Sasuke launched himself at their feet as they entered, so of course he had to be played with a bit, and by then the whole thing had been forgotten.

...

Two months passed quicker than even Caspar expected. It helped that it seemed like there were all kinds of things to do for the reception, and Linhardt was utterly useless at this sort of thing. Honestly Caspar was pretty useless too. He couldn’t count how much time he’d spent on facetime with Dorothea, whining about how he was supposed to pick napkins and Linhardt had already vetoed the cool ones with flames on them because he said they “Looked like they were for an eight year old boy’s birthday party” and he didn’t know what else to pick.  

He figured he was lucky they were some of the last of their friends to get married, so basically everyone was an expert already. Hilda gave him the information for her photographer (after Linhardt had said no to them both wearing a GoPro the whole time instead), Mercedes gave him the contact of one of her baker friends, saying she preferred not to bake cakes for weddings she was going to, as it was too much stress. Ferdinand kept sending him email invites to the wedding pinterest board he’d created for him, but Caspar wasn’t even sure what a pinterest was, let alone how to access it.

Caspar received a very official looking email after a week or so from his father’s work email announcing he was being disowned. In practice this didn’t really mean anything— he knew that when he’d decided not to work for his father’s company he was already set not to inherit anything. But maybe up until that point his father had thought he’d change his mind and come crawling back? Well, it didn’t really matter.

The email was long, and detailed, explaining all the things he would no longer have access to and the family members he was not allowed to contact. Honestly, it didn’t sound like Caspar’s father at all, and he wondered if there was a first draft out there somewhere that was ranting and raving about how much he sucked. Maybe one of his father’s lawyers had seen him composing it and took over? He assumed that was the version he’d have gotten if he’d answered the phone those first few days.

Oh. Maybe it was because of Edelgard. His father’s company did work directly with hers, and she definitely had the upper hand. Maybe his father thought he’d show Edelgard the email if it was just capslock screaming, or that Hubert would hack into his email account and share it from there. Who knew how far his powers extended.

Well. It didn’t really matter. It’s just, it was a lot of words, and it was kind of hard to read. Caspar squinted at his phone, vision going a bit blurry.  On the other end of the couch, Linhardt frowned at him. 

“Is it that gif with the infinite chocolate again? I’ve explained it before, it’s an optical— oh.” Linhardt scooted closer and reached for his phone. “Let me see?” 

Caspar let him take it, grimacing and wiping at his face. “It’s fine, I mean, it’s the same as always, so I don’t even know why he sent it—”

Linhardt’s eyebrows furrowed as he read, his face growing murderous. “Forgive me if it’s not what you want to hear right now,” he said, gaze not leaving the screen, “but your father is a sack of shit.”

“I know,” Caspar said with a desperate chuckle.

“Well, we have options. You and I together have plenty of blackmail material on him— mostly from when you were younger, things you overheard or were told about his business dealings— shall we send a note to the press? Or leak it to my father, I really think—”

“Wait, no,” Caspar said, alarmed. It was unlike them for Caspar to be the one pulling Linhardt back from a wild scheme, but Linhardt apparently considered this a desperate situation. “I don’t wanna do any of that.”

Linhardt frowned and handed him back his phone. “Well, what do you want to do?”

Caspar hesitated. “I just don’t really want to think about it. I want to concentrate on the wedding. AND that means I don’t want you doing some kind of sneaky revenge plan behind my back either,” he added, pointing at Linhardt with an accusatory stare.

Linhardt raised his hands as if in surrender. “Alright. I mean, a ‘sneaky revenge plan’ sounds like a lot of work, so if you’re not going to help you can count me out.” Caspar wondered about that, but he thought Linhardt would probably listen to what he wanted on this, at least. “...Shall we reconsider your flame-patterned napkin idea?” Linhardt asked after a moment, “I think I’m coming around to the concept.”

…

The day of their wedding was a rainy gray Saturday. Caspar woke to the noise of the rain against the window and spent a good forty-five seconds trying to remember if he and Ashe had running plans that day before he remembered what day it was and jolted as if struck by lightning. His violent realization was enough to jostle Linhardt awake, and he made a soft noise of protest, turning his head against Caspar’s shoulder.

Any other day, Caspar might have let him sleep. Maybe he’d have stayed with him for a bit, enjoying his warmth and company, before getting up to shower and eat. But today was special, and he just couldn’t contain his excitement for a single moment more. 

He poked Linhardt carefully in the shoulder. “Hey. Do you remember what day it is?”

Linhardt shifted, slightly, opening one eye to glare up at him with a baleful expression.  Then it seemed that he remembered too and his face softened. “Do I absolutely, positively have to be up right now?”

Caspar checked the time. “Uh… no.” He still had three hours before they had to leave, technically.

Linhardt closed his eye and snuggled back against Caspar’s chest. “Then let me sleep. It can be your wedding present to me.” 

“Wow, okay,” Caspar said, his tone mock-annoyed, although any pretense was spoiled by his laughter. “You know… next time you wake up it’s gonna be time for our wedding… and the time after that, we’ll already be married. That’s crazy, right?”

“Shhh,” Linhardt replied, tried to cover Caspar’s mouth. “Sleep now, married later.”

“Okay,” Caspar whispered back, kissing his palm. It’d be hard, but he could control his excitement for now.

…

As Linhardt had requested, the ceremony was small and simple. Just the two of them, a priest they didn’t know, a clerk to sign the forms, and their witnesses, Ashe and Marianne. Marianne cried. Ashe cried a little, too. He had a shallow scratch on his palm from where he’d tried to get a bowtie on Professor Sasuke that morning, but it was a lost cause (Naruto had accepted his fate with grace). 

It seemed so simple. Just a couple of things to sign; just a couple of things to say. After this, it’s not like anything would change for them. They’d been basically married for years now. But it was nice, Caspar thought, to have a ring to show the other teachers at school. It was great to look forward to the party that evening. And it was totally, absolutely worth it to see his husband in a suit. 

“Ah, I have to go get Hilda,” Marianne said, checking her phone, and took one of their hands in each of hers. “I’m really, truly happy for the both of you. I’ll see you both tonight.” 

Ashe jumped at her words. “I should also, probably…”

“Oh dude yeah!” Caspar said as Marianne waved and turned to go. “You’re picking up hot neighbor guy, right?”

“Stop calling him that!” Ashe protested, flushing. “But yeah, I’ll be driving.”

“We’ll see you there,” Caspar told him, and then Ashe was gone too.

“I don’t suppose I could seduce you into skipping the party and just taking me home right away,” Linhardt asked with a yawn.

“Linhardt! I spent all that time choosing napkins! We can’t just skip our own reception!” Caspar suspected he was kidding, but scowled back at him anyway, hands on his hips. Linhardt’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

“No, that’s what I expected,” Linhardt replied with good humor, and let himself be dragged away to the reception.

…

Caspar had not realized how many people they knew. Like, sure, they’d gone over the guest list, and addressed all the invites, and he’d had to lick all those damn envelopes, but it was one thing to see the numbers and quite another to see the room jam packed.  Linhardt had gone to the bathroom, he thought, maybe, like twenty minutes ago? Figures he’d only be married for like half a day and already losing his husband. 

Dorothea caught his arm as he entered, pulling him to the side. She looked him up and down with a wide grin on her face. “Look at you,” she said, “my sweet baby brother! A married man.” 

“Aw, Dorothea, don’t call me that! You know I’m taller than you now.” Not by much, but it was something.

Undeterred, she ruffled his hair.  “I’m back in town for a bit, so we should catch up. Are you two taking a honeymoon?”

“Maybe in the summer,” he said with a laugh, “I don’t really wanna take off work for it.”

“Oh, good, then we should do something next weekend maybe, if you’re free?”

“Uhhh…” Caspar hesitated, not because he didn’t want to hang out with Dorothea, but because everything after tonight was kind of a blur. He’d been so focused on pulling off the wedding that he hadn’t planned anything after. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Petra emerging from the crowd and latching onto Dorothea’s arm. “Oh! Caspar! Congratulations for the wedding!” she said, beaming ear to ear.

“Thank you!” he replied.

“I am wanting to ask Dorothea to dance— is it okay if I am stealing her from you?” she asked, and Caspar gave her a thumbs up.

“Yeah, go for it! I’ll text you,” he said to Dorothea, and she nodded, then turned to her wife.

“Are you ready to outshine everyone on the dance floor?” she asked Petra, who nodded eagerly.

“That is what I have been waiting all evening for,” she chirped.

…

Caspar spotted Linhardt’s parents across the crowd, looking wan and lost. They were probably older than anyone else here by at least twenty or thirty years, and Caspar figured he’d feel lost too in their situation. He hadn’t really talked to them since they found out, although he knew Linhardt had spoken to them once or twice. At least they’d shown up. He was about to take pity on them and go over to talk to them when Edelgard emerged at his elbow. 

“A moment, please, Caspar,” she said, doing that thing that Edelgard did where she seemed to be speaking lowly and yet you could hear her better than anyone else in the room.

“Oh, yeah, sure. What’s up?” he asked. She looked super serious, which was not exactly an expression he wanted someone to have at his wedding. But Edelgard always looked super serious, so maybe it was fine?

“I thought you might be wondering how your father discovered your impending marriage,” she said, and Caspar’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said. That really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about right now.

“I had Hubert look into it,” she continued.

“Aw, you didn’t hafta do that,” Caspar replied, half out of consideration for his old school friend’s workload and half because he didn’t really want Hubert looking into his business, actually. Who knew what that dude was capable of.

“Fortunately, he didn’t have to look far,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken, and Hubert and Ferdinand appeared at her elbow as if by magic. Seriously, how did Hubert even do that? And now he had Ferdinand doing it too?

Speaking of Ferdinand, he was wearing an expression of deep shame and regret, head bowed.  “Caspar,” he said, “please believe me when I say I did not know the results of my actions. Had I realized this was my doing I would have come to make my apologies in person right away.”

“Oh, dude, no, it’s fine,” Caspar replied, sort of mortified. Edelgard looked pleased with herself, like a cat that had caught a mouse.

“It turns out that someone was so excited for the upcoming wedding that he couldn’t resist sharing some related articles and pinterest pins on facebook— and in one he happened to write that he thought a certain brand of napkin ring would suit your eyes. Of course, many of us are facebook friends with family, and all of our parents know each other, so…”

Ferdinand surged forward to take both of Caspar’s hands in his. “I know that I do not deserve forgiveness,” he cried, “but if you can find it in your heart—”

“Yeah, for sure, no biggie,” Caspar responded, trying to free his hands from Ferdinand’s grasp. 

They might have stayed that way forever, locked in eternal struggle, if Raphael had not leaned out of the crowd and said, “Oh, hey Caspar! I think Bernadetta’s looking for you.”

“I have to go,” he said desperately, wrenching his hands from Ferdinand’s iron grip, “Bernadetta’s looking for me.”  He left him there, looking woeful and peninent, to search the crowd for Bernadetta’s small form.

…

He saw Linhardt first, leaned against the wall, and considered forsaking his Bernadetta-finding mission to join him, when he realized she was standing there with him, surveying the crowd nervously. He jogged over to the two of them.

“Hey Bernadetta! Raphael said you needed me?”

“Oh! Yes, um, I need to be heading home, but I wanted to give you your wedding, um, gifts,” she stammered, “I know you said no presents, but I was already working on these, and, I thought it would be appropriate, but if you really hate them you can just throw them away, they’re a little wonky so I’d understand,”

“Uh, Bernadetta?” Caspar said, trying to break into her tirade, and she jumped.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I’m doing it again! Here, take it—” and she shoved a package into his arms and then one at Linhardt. Both were the same size, somewhat large and rectangular but thin, like a large book maybe? Both packages were wrapped neatly in brown paper.

Caspar and Linhardt exchanged glances, and then started to open them. Underneath the paper was smooth wood, and… a painting?

“Holy shit,” Caspar said, delighted. Bernadetta gave a low wail of despair.

“Oh, I knew it, they’re terrible, I should just—”

“No Bernadetta shut up, I love it,” Caspar said, grinning down at the painting. It was a large detailed portrait of Naruto the cat being cradled in the arms of Naruto the anime character. “Lin, what’s yours? Is it the same?”

An expression of defeat and amusement on his face, Linhardt raised the canvas he was holding so Caspar could see that it was similar— a museum-worthy portrait of Sasuke holding Professor Sasuke.  “Thank you, Bernadetta,” Linhardt said, an edge of laughter in his voice. “These are certainly... unique,”

“This is my new favorite thing,” Caspar told her, “We’re gonna put them up in the main room.”

“We are?” Linhardt asked mildy.

“Obviously,” Caspar replied. He would not be argued down from this.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Bernadetta whispered, and let Caspar pull her in for a hug. 

“You gonna be good getting home?” he asked her, squeezing her tight. She let out a squeak.

“Y-yes! I’ll be fine,” she replied, and he made a mental note to bring the cats over for her to visit with more often. She might be busy writing her next novel or whatever, but a little cat company would do anyone good!  

Bernadetta extricated herself from the hug and headed for the doors, and Caspar watched her go with a fond grin.

“That was nice of her,” he told Linhardt.

“Oh, certainly,” Linhardt replied, his gaze once again fixed on the painting. “... are we really putting these up in our apartment?”

“Um, yes ?” Caspar said. Why would they ever let such masterpieces waste away in a closet or something?

Linhardt opened his mouth and it seemed like he was about to say something else, when another guest caught Caspar’s eye. 

“Ashe!” he yelled over the noise of the crowd, “Dedue!” He wasn’t sure if he’d been loud enough, but the two of them glanced over and started to head his way. As they got closer, Caspar was pleased to notice they were holding hands.

“I’m glad you were able to make it,” he said, and then to Dedue, “I keep hoping I’ll run into you around the apartment, but no luck so far!”

“Oh,” Dedue said, looking uncomfortable— or maybe just feeling out of place? “My schedule is… unusual.”

“He’s a baker,” Ashe told them, cheeks pink, “So he has to get up incredibly early. Sometimes I go by the bakery he works at after we do our run, Caspar.”

“Oh, what? I wanna go too, you should take me next time,” Caspar said. Linhardt elbowed him.

“Yes, I’m sure Ashe is eager to have his loudmouthed friend accompany him on the only time they’re able to spend together,” he admonished, before turning to Dedue. “It occurs to me I hadn’t properly thanked you for what you did that day. I really do think it was your presence in addition to Ashe’s that turned the situation around.”

Dedue seemed… embarrassed? He was kinda hard to read. “I… I was there by pure coincidence. I hope the circumstances have improved since then.”

“Ehhh,” Caspar said, with a noncommittal hand waggle, before realizing one major difference. “Well, I’m married now, so that’s an improvement overall!” He heard Linhardt snort with amusement. 

“We were heading to the food table,” Ashe said, and Caspar perked up.

“Oh yeah! I’ve been so busy saying hi to people I haven’t really gotten a chance to eat anything.” he turned to Linhardt. “You want anything?” He guessed that Linhardt probably wouldn’t want to wade into the crowd for now.

“Sure, fix me a plate,” Linhardt said with a fond smile, “You know what I like.” It was true, but it’d be more impressive if the entire food menu wasn’t just both their favorite snacks.

“Kay, I’ll be right back,” Caspar said, taking his hand and squeezing it, and then following Ashe and Dedue into the crowd.

…

The rest of the night continued much like that, with familiar faces and sometimes new ones, when one of his friends would introduce a partner he hadn’t met yet. Ingrid showed him pictures of her newest horse on her phone until Caspar pawned her off onto Ferdinand, and then Lysithea and Linhardt spent a good twenty minutes talking academic shop while Caspar listened in fond bafflement. Linhardt made it surprisingly far into the night before starting to lean on Caspar’s shoulder, yawning loudly in his ear.

“Wanna head home?” Caspar asked, grinning.

“Eh. If you want to stay, we can,” Linhardt replied blearily, surprising him. “Seems like you’re having fun.”

Caspar’s heart warmed at that. “Nah, we should head back. I’m worrying about the kids.”

“The kids?” Linhardt asked

“The cats.” Caspar corrected himself.

“Ah,” Linhardt replied, tone heavy with amusement. “Yes, let’s go check on them.”

There was something sort of freeing in being able to sneak out of your own party and knowing you’ve paid someone to clean it all up. It had been a long time saving up for all this, but it was totally worth it. The two of them crept into the night, hand in hand. At least it had stopped raining.

“Did you think it’d end up like this?” Caspar asked him as they walked across the parking lot, Bernadetta’s paintings tucked under one arm. “Us getting married, I mean?”

Linhardt thought about it for a moment. “I suppose when you ate all those slugs and I found myself fussing over you instead of running the opposite direction I should have known I was in it for the long haul.”

Caspar gave a cheer. “I knew that worked! Ashe doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“I think Ashe is doing quite well for himself,” Linhardt responded, and Caspar shrugged.

“I guess. Us too, though.”

Linhardt laughed.  “Yes, us too.”