Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“He’s kidnapped Ilse.”

Duncan couldn’t breathe. If it weren’t for Vanja by his side, whose hand he was clutching like a lifeline, he might have passed out from sheer shock alone. His friend and mentor was in danger, in the hands of a madman who was frighteningly obsessed with being a cowboy. Despite what Douwe had said, he needed that drink, and found himself knocking back the alcohol and refilling the glass before he spoke. “What does he want? Is there a ransom note?”

They had been fools.

They hadn’t thought to make sure Waylon couldn’t get away after Douwe had knocked him out during the Battle of Dusseldorf, and because of that, Ilse had been kidnapped by her former duet partner. “Start from the beginning, Douwe.” Vogel suggested, taking a seat. The others quickly did the same, the bar turning into a serious place where they were discussing the latest threat to the continent.

A threat that took the word yeehaw much too seriously.

“She was supposed to be in the studio recording with me two days ago, but she didn’t show up. I went to her house and knocked. Nobody answered. That’s when I realised the door was already open.” The other Dutch man shuddered as he recounted what he had seen. “It was a mess, like it had been ransacked, but nothing was missing--just Ilse. Then I found this.” An envelope, with Duncan’s name scrawled on it in messy handwriting. “I didn’t want to open it without you guys there. You’re the experts in this sort of situation.”

“Really wish we weren’t.” Duncan squeezed Vanja’s hand once more before he let it go and opened the envelope. Inside, there was a single letter, one that took up barely half the page.

Yeehaw, Duncan de Moor,

Remember me? I sure as hell remember you. Ilse’s taking a little vacation with me now. If you want her to be safe, do three things for me, will you?

Give up the trophy. Give up your fiancé. Stop making music.

Simple enough, right? Do it all and I let her go. Make the right decisions and I won’t harm a single hair on her head. If you don’t...well, I have all the time in the world. That sort of thing tends to happen when a nobody usurps your musical career.

I trust you’ll make the right decision.

-W.

Duncan’s free hand curled into a fist, his nails cutting into his palm as anger spread through his mind. How dare Waylon do this, how dare he try to blame him for his career flopping, how dare --A hand on his shoulder sent his rage-train of thought to a screeching halt, and he looked to see Vanja staring back at him, understanding and determination in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are the others. We’re going to get Ilse back and kick Waylon’s ass.”

“Do we even know where to start? Where would he go with her?” They debated what taking a little vacation meant--did it mean he had taken Ilse out of the Netherlands? Out of the continent? “He can’t have gone out of the continent. It would be nearly impossible for him to get on a plane with a kidnapping victim.” When the others turned to stare at her, Ness shrugged. “What? I watch a lot of true crime stuff. It sticks. Anyway, they’re probably still in Europe. Most kidnappers don’t actually take their victims that far away from where they took them in the first place. We just have to think--where is Waylon most comfortable?”

“Texas?” As dire as the situation was, it made them all laugh. “In Europe. Wait a minute.” Vogel got up and paced around, her brain kicking into high gear as she thought it over. “Duncan, remember our encounter with Waylon in Amsterdam when we were trying to warn Edsilia? What he said about ‘Arcade’?” He rolled his eyes and did his best impression of the first person he had ever punched. “ Your song sucks, and I voted for Montenegro and Germany.” He glanced back up at his friends and fiancé, realization coming to him. “You think he’s in one of those two countries?”

“It’s our best bet. Let’s get planning.” Another adventure was coming up for the Euro365 crew, and like the last one, they were being joined by someone else. This time, it was Douwe, who felt that he was partially responsible for Ilse being kidnapped and wanted to help, whether it was with his connections or his kickboxing skills. That night, Vanja found himself on the balcony of their apartment, resting his arms on the railing, staring into the night sky, contemplating what was going on.

Ilse DeLange, someone very close to Duncan, had been kidnapped. By someone who they had fought before, not once, but twice. Not to mention that their wedding was in less than three months. It was enough to make even the toughest person stressed, and he had just gotten used to their lives being relatively normal. “Hey.” Duncan stepped outside to stand next to him, and together, they watched the stars in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?”

Vanja shrugged, a casual enough gesture, but it was clear to Duncan that something was bothering him, and the truth soon came spilling out in a rush. “Damn it. I can’t lie to you. How could I not be worried? It seems that every time our lives get back to a semblance of normalcy, something comes along and messes it up. We get engaged? You get erased from existence. I get you back? Mr. Yeehaw kidnaps your mentor. Sometimes it feels like the world is against us.”

Duncan’s heart sank.

He knew that it was strange that they got thrown into odd situations so often, but to hear the man he loved sound as worried as he was made him want to reassure him, to hold him and tell him it would be alright. “The world’s not against us.” He finally said, taking a deep breath before he continued. “We just have an uncanny ability to get stuck in weird situations. But through it all, we’ve stood by each other. We’re going to defeat Waylon for good. I know we will. Hopefully, it’s the last crazy thing that’ll ever happen to us, and we can enjoy a long, normal life together.”

He held out a hand and Vanja took it, letting him lace his fingers in between his. Feeling the engagement ring against his skin, a steady reminder that Duncan had chosen him, him and nobody else, helped him calm down as he listened to what Duncan had to say. “Us meeting was fate, remember? You and I, we were meant to be together.” He smiled, although it was a little difficult to do so, given what they were going up against, but Duncan’s words made him feel safe. He was right--if they were together, they could do just about anything. “Can I do something?”

“Within reason.” His response caused Duncan to laugh softly. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to do anything crazy like fight the president of Ukraine.” He let go of his hand and reached out, taking Vanja’s glasses off of his face and putting them in his pocket before fully facing him again. “I realised that I’ve hardly actually ever seen your eyes without your glasses in front of them. I don’t want anything to keep me from appreciating all of you. Turns out I was right to think that you have beautiful eyes behind the lenses.” His words made Vanja’s heart melt and his face flush--who didn’t like getting compliments from the one they loved? “You have beautiful eyes, too. Or, at least, I think you do. I can’t see much.”

“Very funny. Your eyesight’s not that bad.”

Chapter Text

Two days later, the Euro365 crew and Douwe found themselves in Podgorica, trying to discern if Waylon was in the country and, if so, where he could be. “It feels good to be home.” Vanja admitted as they walked down the street. He hadn’t been in Montenegro for the better part of two years, and even though it wasn’t that far of a trip, he had felt homesick for a while.

Maybe coming back home, despite it being for a short while, was just what he needed. And this time, Duncan and the rest of their friends were with him. It was like the reverse of their trip to Amsterdam; this time, his friends got to see his country.

Like their trip to Amsterdam, though, they didn’t have time to see the sights or spend too much time exploring the cuisine.

They were in Podgorica for business.

“I still can’t believe Waylon would come here. It’s way too peaceful. Not enough horses.” Ness’s statement made Vanja laugh. “You’re right, in a way. There are horses farther from the city, but not in it. Enough talk of horses. We’re here for a reason. Let’s get to it.”

They found themselves in a government building soon after, paging their way through land and visa records, searching for any sign that Waylon had been in the country in the past year. It was a tedious process, since Vanja was the only one who could comprehend what the documents said. Duncan was learning Montenegrin, but he admitted that he knew too little to really help, so every time one of them found something that looked promising, he had to translate it.

It helped, though, that Vogel knew Russian, and she came across a document that caught her eye, passing it over to Vanja, who was sitting at the sole desk in the room, scanning documents and deeming them useful (or, for the most part, useless) as fast as he could. “Hey. Look at this one. There’s a farm outside of Lovćen registered to someone with the initials W.B. Coincidence?”

“Doubtful. It’s only an hour away, too. If it turns out to be a dud, well, at least we’ll be enjoying the scenery.” They left the building and got back to the car, where another debate came up: what they were going to listen to. Each of them had a different genre in mind, which led to bickering for five minutes, and, in turn, led to Duncan sighing and turning on the first classical music station he could find, the strains of a Sibelius concerto effectively shutting them up. “When in doubt, turn to classical.” Sibelius gave way to Rachmaninov, and before they knew it, they had arrived at their destination just outside the forest. “It’s beautiful out here.” Ness said, admiring the scenery. “Too bad we don’t have time to be tourists.”

“We can still admire the view, though.” Douwe replied, grabbing a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment and peering through them at the property they were about to trespass onto. “It looks deserted. Are you sure we have the right address?” They double-checked to make sure that, yes, they had the right address, before climbing over the fence that surrounded the property and walking towards the main house. A strange noise sounded behind them, and Vogel turned around to see a baby lamb waddling towards them. “It’s so cute, I think I’m going to die.” She crouched down to pet the lamb, which baa ed happily at the touch. “Where are the rest of your friends? You can’t be alone here, can you?”

“Vogel, it’s a lamb. It can’t reply.” A huff came from her in response to Duncan’s remark. “It’s not about the conversation, Duncan, it’s about the experience of petting a cute baby lamb. I think she’d say the same.” Another baa came from the lamb before Vogel got back up, albeit reluctantly. “Let’s keep going and see what we can find.” They got to the main house and found the door to be unlocked, which was the first thing that was suspicious. The second was that the lights were on. “Someone’s been here recently, if not today. We should split up and search the house.”

Words that had been often spoken in horror movies, Ness thought, but it was a better idea than just standing there and hoping someone would arrive to either help them or fight them. So she and Duncan went off to search the top floor of the farmhouse, while the others searched the basement. “Look. Is it just me, or does this guitar look familiar?” Duncan picked up the instrument gingerly, carrying it over to the desk in the study, and together they looked at it. “It’s the guitar Waylon had at Eurovision in 2018. Aesthetically, not bad, but it’s not much of a clue. At least we know now that this is his property, and we’re not breaking in to some random person’s house.”

“That’s always a bonus. Find anything useful?” There was nothing in the desk besides sheet music, random guitar picks, and, oddly enough, a book on snakeskin, so she shook her head. “Not really. Just more cowboy stuff. Maybe the others found more in the basement.” They met back up with the others downstairs, who had found similar things, but no sign of Ilse, or any indication that Waylon had been there, save for the guitar. “Well, this may have been a bust, but at least I got to pet a baby lamb.” Vogel sighed as she flopped backwards onto the sofa. Somewhere in the house, a door creaked, causing everyone who was standing to whirl around in search of where it came from. Then another noise came.

“Baaaaa!”

The lamb had followed them--and had gotten inside the house. When she spotted Vogel, she trotted over to her and lay down, something that could only be called a smile on her face. “You have a shadow. A white shadow.” Vogel leaned down to pat the lamb, smiling as she did so. “I think I made a friend. Can we take her with us?”

“Vogel, we live in the city. Where are you going to keep a baby lamb in Belgrade?” Vogel’s face fell, and she bit her lip, eventually murmuring, “I didn’t think of that. Sorry, lamb friend.” The moment she spoke those words, another door creaked in the house. “I don’t think it’s a lamb this time.” They quickly got into defensive stances, waiting for the next fight to come, and someone stepped into the room from the back of the house. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Rizo?!”

Chapter Text

Vanja stared in shock at the man who was opposite him and his friends. Of all people to be working with Waylon, he had never expected a fellow Montenegrin to be one of them. Then again, Rizo was an odd one--as were the rest of D-Mol. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Radovanović. You all are trespassing. And I think even you can remember how we deal with trespassers in this country.” Vanja gritted his teeth at Rizo’s insinuation that he had forgotten his roots. He had been Montenegrin long before he had moved to Belgrade--and, for that matter, longer than Rizo had been alive. “I remember. Just one question before I throw you out of the window. Why are you working with Waylon?”

“Oh, are you not in the I failed at Eurovision group chat? Turns out there’s quite a few of us who are bitter about our placings.” Ness rolled her eyes, whispering under her breath, “ Right, because coming at 18th place in the final is so bad. Waylon’s such a wuss.” Vanja stifled the urge to laugh, instead turning back to the problem at hand. “Unlike you, I don’t hold grudges, even though I do wish I had done better. So you helped Waylon kidnap an innocent woman rather than fix your own issues? Your priorities are really messed up.”

“You wouldn’t understand. Maybe you did terribly, but you didn’t become the laughingstock of the country and be the reason we withdrew from the contest the following year.” This was only going to end one of two ways: with them talking him down, or with Rizo knocked out. And from the way it was going, the second option was looking more and more likely. “Get ready to fight.” Vanja heard Douwe mutter, and it was clear that his friends had decided that the second option was the best idea, too.

If it was a fight that Rizo wanted, then it was a fight he was going to get.

Douwe was the first to throw a punch, which seemed fair to the rest of the group. It was basically his first fight with them, after all. His kickboxing skills had certainly paid off, because Rizo got punched right on the nose. Duncan winced at the noise; even though he wasn’t the one who got punched, it had to hurt like hell. He looked around the room while Rizo was recovering from the first punch, and noticed two things: a crowbar and a cellphone.

He exchanged a glance with Vanja and they seemed to think the same thing: it was the crowbar from their fight with Kirkorov.

As Duncan rushed over to the corner to grab the weapon, Rizo turned to Ness, anger in his eyes. “I thought you were the one with unpopular opinions…” he said, raising his fist. His stance looked as uncomfortable as the Eurovision performance by D-Mol. “And even you don’t like my song?!” He aimed for a punch in the stomach, but Ness dodged him. “I might be a mess,” she said angrily, “but even I know better than to stan the secondhand embarrassment from that performance.” She kicked him, getting a high five from Vogel. Duncan had grabbed the crowbar and phone, the latter of which he quickly handed to Vogel the Tech Expert.

Rizo was getting frustrated, but there was still a fight left in him, unfortunately. “ You. ” He pointed to Vanja, “a fellow Montenegrin couldn’t even support me?” Vanja laughed. “Absolutely not. Not with that song. Justice for Andrea!” With that, he used his extreme powers to give him another punch. The crack that followed almost sounded worse than D-Mol’s live performance.

Almost.

“Fuck you,” Rizo coughed, a tooth falling out. One of his front ones. “Guess what? I think your song sucked!”

He glared at him, and Duncan felt an incredible anger well up inside of him at those words. “What did you just say?” He asked, raising the crowbar. “Your fiancé’s song? It sucked. And so did yours!” Now an experienced fighter with a crowbar, Duncan managed to hit him hard, causing the D-Mol singer to pass out. “Well done, babe!” Vanja smiled proudly, squeezing his shoulder. 

“I’m sure he will wake up soon,” Douwe said. “We have to get rid of him.”

But there was one person who hadn’t gotten in a punch in yet. Vogel was busy checking Rizo’s phone, but the guy had done an impressive job of hiding his information. Except on one app. “Ew, guys, look at this!” she exclaimed after opening Instagram. “Look at the tags he follows!” The Euro365 squad gathered around her to look.

It was disgusting.

He was following tags that were definitely NSFW, and some other very sexist things. “That man is screwed up,” Ness muttered. The others had to agree. 

The man in question was slowly waking up again. Vogel heard his groan, and quickly walked over to him. “You better stay asleep, you sexist!” she yelled as she punched him so hard that he stumbled backwards. The group took turns pushing him, until he reached the wall. Except, instead of a wall, there was a large open window. Vanja took the honors of the final push. “You are not worthy of Montenegro!” He hissed as Rizo was literally yeeted out of the window. The ground cushioned his fall and ensured that he would not die, but rather that he would certainly not wake up for a couple of hours. Ness peered over the window ledge at Rizo’s passed-out form below, murmuring, “Well, he fell, but he’s definitely not in heaven.”

Now, they had to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Grab the lamb and run!”

You don’t have to tell me twice , Vogel thought as she scooped up the lamb, who didn’t even protest at being carried out of the house. They booked it out of the place and quickly made it back to the car, driving away as fast as possible. Nobody spoke for a while, until Douwe glanced over and saw a lamb staring back at him. “What the hell just happened?”

“Welcome to the Euro365 family, Douwe. This is our version of normal.” Laughter broke out in the car at it--it was true. Fighting presidents, time travel, and now kidnapping a lamb weren’t things a lot of people could say they had done in their lifetimes, but for them, it was just another Tuesday. They had even made it a regular meme amongst themselves: the Euro365 crew in Belgrade, what will they do ? “No wonder you’re marrying him, Duncan. He’s just as crazy as you are.” Another round of laughter came, Vanja leaning over to kiss his fiancé on the cheek. “I think we’re all a little crazy, but it’s true that we bring it out in each other.”

There was a method to their madness, and the balance that came with it. Even with that balance, though, they were back where they had started in their quest: with no idea of where Ilse was, and no idea where to go next.

As Vogel petted her new lamb friend, she noticed something she hadn’t before: a collar around the lamb’s neck, partially obscured by the wool, a charm with a single word on it dangling from it. “He named you Rhode ? Wow, looks like outlaw isn’t the only thing he doesn’t know how to spell. You need a new name. Anybody got any ideas?”

“Wait. Rhode ?” Vogel looked back at the tag and nodded. “Yeah. Why, Ness?” If they hadn’t been in the car, Ness would have probably gotten up and begun pacing around. “Because Rhodes may be in Greece, but Rhode , without the s , is a village in Ireland.” She laughed, sitting back in her seat. “Looks like we’ve found a clue.”

“I wonder,” Vogel mused, “if Rizo was working with Waylon in Montenegro, who’s his contact in Ireland? Dustin the Turkey?”

Chapter Text

“Why is it that one of the worst people in the world always picks really beautiful scenery to go to?” It was an odd irony that Waylon had such good taste in scenery, despite...well, despite being a wannabe cowboy. They had left the lamb, who they had renamed Lys, after the first Eurovision winner, in Belgrade with a friend who had experience with farm animals, and had gotten to Ireland as quickly as they could. “Sometimes it’s like that, you know what I mean?”

“Unfortunately. So what’s our plan here? Records again, or asking around if anybody’s seen someone wearing a ridiculously large cowboy hat?” Like before, they had no time to actually admire the scenery for more than a few moments. Business was all they were there for. “I’ve got a better idea. I’m gonna go talk to the locals. I’ll text you in an hour.”

As Douwe separated from the main group and headed towards the pub, Ness shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a point. The locals will know what goes on, right? And if he can get information there, it’s better than nothing.” They decided to split up and see if they could find any other information in the village. They stuck to their normal pairings: Ness and Vogel went together, Vanja and Duncan going in the opposite direction. “So...we still haven’t picked a song for our first dance as a married couple.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Duncan grinned at his fiancé’s question, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping the screen a few times. “I made us a playlist, actually. Take a look.” Vanja scrolled through the songs, stopping at one of them out of curiosity. “I don’t recognise this one. ‘Heaven’s Gate’? Sounds a little morbid.” The laugh that followed his words was mirthful, one that sent a rush of warmth and happiness through him. “Not at all. It’s about being so in love with your partner that you’d smuggle them into heaven to be with you.”

“I sure hope you would.” Vanja replied, and Duncan laughed again. “Of course I would. Do you really think I’d let you have all the fun in hell by yourself?”

“Hey!” He protested, shoving him lightly, although he was laughing, too. “Who says that I’m not the one smuggling you into heaven, you beautiful disaster?” Out of the two of them, though, Vanja was definitely the wilder one--after all, he was the one who had insulted a president to his face and gotten away with it. He caught Duncan looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it? I don’t have a spider on me, do I?” He shook his head, smiling softly. “Can’t I look at my fiancé and admire him?”

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the general silence of the area, rudely interrupting their bliss. A voice with a Dutch accent that had stereotypical Southern American tones to it. “Is that... Waylon ?!”

They quickly ducked behind a parked car and watched as the wannabe cowboy went across the street. “Well, we found him. Now what?” Already, Duncan was texting the others, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan to confront him. “Do we follow him?” Vanja moved to get up, but Duncan grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back down beside him. “Wait. We don’t know where he’s going. Let’s just watch for now--oh, shit. He’s going into the pub. He’s going to see Douwe.”

Crash!

Somewhere near them, a window broke, yelling ensuing after the sound of shattering glass. “That can’t be good. Now we follow him.” Once they got in the pub, they noticed two things. First, most of the patrons had cleared out.

Second, Douwe had pinned Waylon up against the wall, murder in his eyes. “I will give you one chance to talk before I step back and he punches you in the face.” The other man merely laughed. “You think I’m afraid of him ? That pretty boy?” He asked, giving Duncan a disdainful look, but Duncan had an idea about how they could get him to talk, nudging Vanja’s foot almost imperceptibly with his.

He got the message.

“Who says he was talking about my dear fiancé, Willem ?” Vanja cracked his knuckles, a smirk coming to his mouth. “After all, he’s not the one who fights with his fists.”

Now Waylon was looking terrified. Vanja could be scary when he wanted to be, and right now was one of those times. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk!”

Douwe released him from the wall, brushing his hands off, and stepped back to let Vanja take his place. “Damn. And here I was, wanting to punch you for sending that ransom note and threatening the man I love. Talk, Willem. Where is Ilse?”

“Somewhere only we know.” Vanja sighed, exasperated. Couldn’t the answers that he received be simple, for once, rather than a maze of riddles? “A location would be nice. Unless, of course, you’d like me to mess up your face.”

Even though they had the upper hand, Waylon smirked. “I think you’ll let me go. Unless, of course,” he mocked, parroting Vanja’s words back at him, “you really don’t care about your friends.” At first, they had no idea what he was talking about. Then Ness burst into the room, her breathing heavy, as if she had just run a 10K. It gave Waylon the distraction he needed to shove Vanja away from him, who fell against Duncan, who caught him, but the momentum proved to be too much, so they both ended up falling backwards, bowling over Douwe, sending them all sprawling to the floor in a heap of limbs.

Waylon had already escaped out the back door, and by the time they got to their feet, they heard the revving of an engine, knowing that their mortal enemy had escaped. Something terrible had happened in the hour that they had split up, and Ness was nearly sobbing as she managed to choke out three words, confirming their worst fears.

“ They took Vogel .”

“Who took her, Ness?” When Duncan fully saw his friend’s face, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He had never seen her this distraught, not even when she realised that one of her Eurovision opinions was deeply unpopular, like her stanning of Belgium 2011. “The S!sters.” At first, none of them got it, but then Douwe realised who she meant, and muttered something that, even though the situation was dire, made them crack up.

“That fucking groupchat.”

Chapter Text

Twenty-four hours later...

“Where the hell am I?” Vogel croaked, wincing at the harsh light that hit her eyes as she opened them. Trying to get up, she felt a strange sensation on her wrists, realising with a start that her hands were tied to the chair she was in. The room was empty, save for her, but she felt the presence of someone--or, more accurately, two someones--with her. “Hey! You can’t leave me here and not give me some answers!” Taking a deep breath, she yelled four words that she knew would get their attention.

“ You deserved zero points! ”

Almost immediately, the two women who had taken her out of Ireland, shoved her into a private plane, and transported her to Germany appeared in the near distance. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time--the moment she had spotted them and had a sinking feeling that they were up to no good, they had knocked her out, and the next thing she knew, she was in Germany. She kept talking as they got nearer, trying to feel out the knots in the rope. The moment she found one, she began to pick away at it. “I mean, you’re not even sisters, and the song was bad, so what else did you expect?”

“I’d shut up if I were you.” Carlotta snapped, but Vogel just laughed at the remark. “Well, thankfully, you’re not me, and I’m not you, so I think I’ll keep talking, if you don’t mind. I’m guessing you two are in Waylon’s little groupchat?” They didn’t answer, instead exchanging a glance. “I’ll take that as a yes. So...seen any good movies lately? Or have you been too busy with an international kidnapping plot to go out for a night-- mmf! ”

Laura surged forward, clapping a hand over Vogel’s mouth, and practically hissed, “We’re not giving away the plan. Stop trying to get us to talk, Bird.”

Vogel seethed at the pointed translation of her name. Sure, it was kind of odd that her name meant bird in German ( and in Dutch , Duncan would always point out), but it was a name she was proud to have. “My name ,” she began, rage building in her, “is Vogel .”

With a flick of the wrist, the ropes that had kept her tied to the chair fell and she got up, the rage pouring off of her in waves as she did so. “You get one chance. Get out of here, and stop working with that ridiculous wannabe cowboy, or else you’ll see why my friends know not to make me angry.”

At first, the Germans didn’t take her seriously. Then she took a step forward, staring them down.

Then another, her hands curling into fists. They didn’t know it, but Vanja had been teaching her how to fight, and she had gotten good at throwing punches--roundhouse kicks weren’t the only thing she was good at, it turned out. By the third step, they turned tail and ran, one of them dropping a cell phone as she hightailed it out of there, which Vogel quickly scooped up. “Hello, there. Tell me some secrets, won’t you?”

She managed to figure out the passcode to the phone quickly ( 2019 , really, could they be any more obvious) and scrolled through the messages of the ‘I failed at Eurovision’ groupchat until she found what she was looking for: where Waylon was hiding Ilse. The moment it loaded, her jaw dropped, but she quickly grinned to herself. “Well, well, well. Looks like it’s time to call the rest of the gang.”

Meanwhile, in Frankfurt…

“I thought they’d brought her here, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’re not even in Germany.” Vanja sighed, running a hand through his hair before downing the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. None of them had slept over the past twenty-four hours, but Ness was in the worst shape of them all. Vogel was her best friend, and she felt responsible for not having protected her from being kidnapped. She had spent most of the flight in a state of shock, only breaking out of it when they discovered that Vogel’s phone GPS had been turned on and that she was somewhere in the vicinity of Frankfurt. “GPS doesn’t lie. Unless they managed to spoof the signal, she’s here. I’m sure of it.”

Just then, someone’s phone started ringing. It wasn’t ‘Satellite’, which was everyone’s ringtone for Vogel, as it was her favourite Eurovision song of all time, so they all had to pull out their phones and check to see if it was them. It turned out to be Ness’ phone that was ringing, so she answered it with a simple hello, not knowing who was on the other end. “I found out where Ilse is!”

“ VOGEL!” Ness practically jumped out of her chair in joy upon hearing her voice, quickly putting the call on speaker so the rest of the crew could hear her. “You escaped?”

“Turns out that walking menacingly towards your captors after you bust out of the ropes they tied you to a chair with works pretty well. Where are you guys? Do you have any snacks? I’m really hungry.” Duncan started to hold up a hand, but put it down upon realising she couldn’t see him. “Wait, where are you ? We’re in a cafe in Frankfurt right now, we lost your GPS signal a few hours back.” On the other end of the call, they heard her pause, as if taking in a location. “I think I’m in Dusseldorf.” She named a street that they quickly searched to confirm that, yes, it was in Dusseldorf, ironically enough. One battle had been fought there before, and another had nearly taken place. “Where’s Ilse?”

Vogel laughed softly, and somehow Ness knew she was shaking her head in wonder. “He didn’t take her far. She’s in Rotterdam. Come get me, will you?”

Three hours later, their train safely arriving in Dusseldorf, they spotted a familiar figure standing on the platform, a cell phone in her hands. The moment they got off the train, they engaged in a group hug, glad to have their friend (and tech genius) back. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Ness breathed, hugging her a little longer than the others did, glad that her partner in crime was alright.

“Me, too. When are we going to Rotterdam?” They had already booked the tickets, so all that was left was to wait for the train--and to examine the texts that Vogel had found that led to her discovery of where Ilse had been taken.

Outlaw: They’re too good at finding people and solving mysteries. Where could I stash Ilse away so that they wouldn’t find her?

GotUsedToFeelingRizo: Maybe somewhere they wouldn’t think to look. Somewhere so obvious that they’d skip it over.

Outlaw: So somewhere in the Netherlands? I can do that.

UhOhS!sters: What if you took her to Rotterdam? It would be the perfect hiding place. A little bit of irony never hurt anyone.

GotUsedToFeelingRizo: Pretty boy Duncan won’t know what hit him.

Outlaw: You’re geniuses. None of them will ever think to look there.

They all looked up from the phone, Duncan being the first to make a noise of disgust. “Please tell me that Rizo’s chatname doesn’t refer to what I think it does.” Vanja said nothing, just taking his hand and giving it a squeeze of support, which he took to mean that, yes, Rizo’s chatname referred to the cringiest line of an already-cringy song. Shuddering slightly, he put it aside and focused on the revelation that had been made: Ilse was in Rotterdam.

But where?

Where had Waylon hidden her?

Chapter Text

Like in Dusseldorf, someone was waiting at the station to greet them when the train stopped.

This time, though, it wasn’t Vogel, but Edsilia. “The authorities have been alerted. There’s a citywide search going on right now.” She told them as they got out of the station and started heading towards Duncan’s apartment. “The police aren’t going to be enough, Edsilia.” He said softly, knowing that, if it weren’t for his fiancé and friends standing with him through every part of the journey, he would have broken down long ago. “He’s gone mad. We still don’t know why he even kidnapped Ilse and sent me that list of demands.”

His phone rang just then, a call from an unknown number. At first, he moved to reject the call, but something made him stop and think before accepting it. “Hello?”

“Duncan!”

The voice on the other end was strikingly familiar--it was Ilse. He motioned for the others to stop, gathering them around him before he put the call on speaker. “Where are you?”

“Duncan, you have to hurry. Willem’s about to do something that he’ll never come back from. He’s got me at the Ahoy. He has a gun. It’s not-”

A scuffle came through from the other end, and when someone spoke again, it was a voice that gave everyone chills, and not in the good way. “You have twenty minutes to get here before I begin.”

The line went dead, Duncan’s stomach dropping as it happened, as he made a decision in the moment it took for him to put the phone away. “If he wants me, then I’m going alone.” He finally said, waiting for one (or all) of them to protest, but it didn’t come. Somehow, they had all silently agreed that this was his fight, and no matter how much it pained them, they supported his decision.

“Come back to me.”

Those four words that Vanja had said to him before he kissed him goodbye were what he kept in mind as he entered Rotterdam Ahoy, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He would come back to his friends, to the man he loved, not just because he believed he would, but because he knew he would. Just before he rounded the corner to the main floor, he took a deep breath, whispering six words that answered Vanja’s plea to him.

“I will come back to you.”

Something pressed into his back, something cold and round, and he knew that if he turned around, Waylon would be standing there with a gun. “So, who’s your mol?” He managed to say, attempting to make small talk, despite his life being potentially at risk.

“Start walking.”

He did as he was told, and as they got to the main floor he saw Ilse standing there before them. He couldn’t help but let out a gasp; even though she had been kidnapped a week ago, she looked surprisingly well. “You came alone. I’m impressed, almost.” Waylon sneered as he shoved Duncan onto the stage, Ilse rushing to help him to his feet.

“So glad I could make you happy.” He snapped back, then reconsidered how to proceed. He wasn’t the one holding a gun, after all. Maybe being nice to him would help keep the both of them safe and help them get away from the man who had caused so much chaos in their lives.

His heart pounding, he glanced around the place that had hosted Eurovision in 2020, surprised at how empty the place was when nothing was going on inside it. “Why did you bring us here? To kill us? You better get on with it.” He noticed that the hand that was holding the gun was shaking--and that, from what he had learned from the action movies the crew watched every so often, was never a good sign. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, Duncan de Moor.”

“Let me ask another. Why do you hate me so much, Willem?” A note of sadness crept into his voice, one that was genuine, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. He didn’t wait for his response before he continued, “I don’t understand it. I never have. What did I ever do to you to make you resent me?”

What the wannabe cowboy did next shocked them both.

He started laughing hysterically, making Duncan exchange a worried look with Ilse before she demanded, “What the hell is so funny about it, Willem? About any of this? Answer the question.” He stopped laughing when he heard her voice, the serious expression immediately returning to his face. “Fine. I’ll answer your precious protégé’s question. I resent you, Duncan Laurence, because you have had everything handed to you. You have it all. A thriving career, music people want to listen to, a happy relationship. After you won Eurovision, they all forgot about me. That is why I kidnapped Ilse. Why I gave you those three demands. I want you to lose everything, just like I did.”

Duncan opened his mouth to speak, to say how ridiculous it was for Waylon to blame him for his descent into obscurity, but it was Ilse, her eyes blazing with fury, who spoke first. He could tell she didn’t need his help to verbally end his career, so he took a mental backseat and watched as his mentor shredded the man’s ego like a block of cheese.

“How dare you blame him for everything bad that’s ever happened to you, Willem? If anything, it’s your fault that nobody wants to listen to your wannabe American country music. You’re the one writing it. It’s your fault that your career has taken a nosedive, that nobody wants to work with you. Can you blame them? Can you blame me ? You wrote a goddamned diss track about me! You didn’t hesitate to say that you’d return to Eurovision as a solo artist AS I WAS SITTING NEXT TO YOU AT A PRESS CONFERENCE!”

She took a breath before she delivered her final lash. “You are a despicable man who makes despicable music, and if I never see you again after this, I’ll be able to die happy!” Her words were far more damaging than nearly any physical blow she could have dealt him--Duncan almost felt sorry for him.

Then he remembered all that he had done.

He had worked with Kirkorov and Zelensky to attempt to orchestrate the destruction of Eurovision, going so far as to try to fight him when he had a dislocated shoulder.

He had insulted his music more times than he could count.

He had kidnapped his mentor and threatened everything he cared about out of jealousy.

Whatever pity he could have had for him vanished in an instant, replaced by rage. “She’s right. The only person responsible for your shortcomings is you , Willem. I hope you rot in prison for a long, long time.” It turned out to be the wrong thing to say when the unmistakable click of a gun’s safety going off echoed through the space. “At least you’ll be gone when I am. Say your goodbyes.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” To his horror, Vanja was standing a few meters away from Waylon, ready to fight. “Oh, look. He’s come to rescue you. How sweet.” Waylon sneered before he turned and pointed the gun at Vanja. “Why shouldn’t I just shoot all of you and call it a day?”

Vanja shrugged and raised his eyebrows before he dropped a bombshell of news. “Well, if you must know, orchestrating a kidnapping plot and taking the victim across international borders is a pretty big offence. So big, in fact, that it falls under Interpol’s jurisdiction. You’re wanted across the continent, Willem, which is probably the closest you’ve ever come to being an actual outlaw. The place is surrounded. You should turn yourself in before you do something you’ll regret.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t even take her out of the country!” Now it was Duncan’s turn to laugh, because he knew exactly what his fiancé meant. “Maybe not Ilse. But you had your German cronies take Vogel out of Ireland and to Germany. Or do you kidnap so many people that they all start to run together? If that’s the case, you really ought to go to therapy.” The gun fell out of Waylon’s hand and clattered onto the floor, but before he could pick it up again Vanja kicked it far out of his reach with the toe of his sneaker. “Give up, Willem.”

“I...I…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the doors burst open, armed Interpol agents swarming into the area. “Put your hands up!” As they put him in handcuffs, Vanja went straight to Duncan, quickly embracing him and noticing that he was shaking, so he comforted him as best as he could. “We won, ljubavi .” He whispered, unable to stop tears of relief from forming in his eyes. “Don’t cry, Vanja.” He pulled back slightly from the hug so he could look into his eyes, although he kept a hand on his arm, not wanting to let him go just yet. “I’m safe. We’re all safe.”

“Guys!”

He turned to see their friends coming towards them, all of them with worried expressions, although they changed when they saw that everything was okay. “How did you do it?” To his surprise, Ilse was the one who responded. “It was nothing. I just knocked him down a few pegs before the weight of what he did really hit him. It’s funny--you all saved me, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.” Duncan mentally facepalmed before he sheepishly introduced everyone to Ilse. “You’re coming to the wedding, right? We sent out invitations last week, before we knew that...well…”

“Before you found out I had gotten kidnapped?” She deadpanned, making them all laugh as they walked out. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes it sound odd, but yes.” Ilse grinned at him and Vanja both. “Of course I’m coming to your wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Text

Two months later…

“Vanja, if you don’t stop worrying about how the club is doing, I’m going to throw you into the Adriatic.”

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter at Duncan’s mock-serious expression--it was almost as ridiculous as what had just come out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t hurt me in any way, shape, or form. I know you wouldn’t. Besides, I doubt you could even pick me up.”

“Do you want to test that theory?” Even as he said it, the corners of his mouth twitched until he started to laugh, too. “You got me, I probably couldn’t pick you up. Anyways , we’re here to relax, to get away from the drama that comes with...well, with everything in our lives, basically.” Ness and Vogel, as an early wedding present, had sent them on a trip to Dubrovnik, promising to take care of the club--as well as Lys and Praznina, who, as it turned out, had become the best of friends--for the three days they would be gone. “Our lives are full of drama, aren’t they? I’m glad it’s all behind us for now.”

“What do you mean, for now ? You think something else will come up?” Vanja shrugged, casting an eye over the sea in front of them before he replied. “Something might. But it’s like you said when I was convinced the world was against us. We’ve stood by each other through thick and thin, and if we happen to be thrown into yet another crazy situation, we’ll stand by each other then, too. I promise.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Kiss me, will you?” He knew he didn’t have to ask, but he felt like doing it, anyways, which made Vanja smile softly. “Well, if you insist…” The kiss he got made him feel warm, as if he had just drunk an entire pot of hot chocolate, and he smiled after it. “What?” A laugh escaped him, one that was more like a puff of air than a laugh. “You make me feel things I can’t even describe with music. That’s how I know you’re the one for me. How much trouble do you think we’d be in if we got married right now?”

“More than it would be worth to call myself your husband sooner rather than later. You aren’t the only one who’s looking forward to our wedding, you know. And if we elope, we won’t have our friends and family there with us. But,” he amended, which got Duncan’s attention, “maybe it wouldn’t hurt to share a dance as practise.”

“We don’t have any music.” He murmured, even as he put an arm around Vanja’s waist. “So? If I’m remembering correctly, you have a damn good voice. One that made the continent fall in love with you. Serenade me, will you?” Mentally going through the slow-dance playlist he had made what seemed like ages ago, he picked a song and began to hum the opening chords. As he sang, Duncan looked into his fiancé’s eyes, that same hot chocolate-like warmth staying with him as they danced on the beach, lost in their own world where it was just the two of them.

“Has the urge to elope disappeared yet?” Duncan laughed before nodding. “I think a dance with you was just what I needed, you know what I mean? Thanks for suggesting it. Maybe that should be the song for our first dance.”

“We already chose one and it was a miracle that we immediately agreed. Don’t press your luck.”

Chapter Text

The morning of his wedding, Duncan had woken up alone for the first time in months. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that he had found himself reaching for someone that wasn’t there before he realised what day it was. He and Vanja weren’t often superstitious, but it being bad luck to see each other before the wedding was one superstition they didn’t want to chance.

There had been enough bad luck sent their way in the past year to last them a lifetime.

His mind racing, he opened the window and took in the landscape of San Marino, breathing slowly in order to get his jitters under control. “It’s going to be fine.” He said, mostly to reassure himself. “Everyone has nerves on important days in their lives.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” He jumped at Vogel’s voice, turning around slowly to see her standing a few meters away with a bakery box in hand. “I bought some croissants at a nice little bakery down the road. You need to eat something.” He accepted one of the flaky pastries gratefully, realising that his jitters were totally baseless--it wasn’t as if Vanja was going to leave him at the altar. “Thanks. To answer your question, yeah. I was talking to myself. Just my mind going a little haywire.”

“It’s only one of the biggest days of your life so far. Need a pep talk?” At his nod, Vogel launched into a near-monologue. “It’s understandable to be nervous. As long as you know that this is what you want, that you’re sure of where you are in life, you’ll be fine. You love Vanja, right?” He nodded again. “More than anyone on this planet. He’s the one for me.” She smiled, patting his shoulder lightly. “See? You’re going to be fine. The both of you.”

A few rooms down the hall, Vanja was also having an episode of a mind gone haywire, but his was far smaller: it was over his hair. “Of all the days for you to be a mess, you had to pick today, didn’t you?”

“You rang?”

“Not you, Ness. My hair is acting up.” He sighed, running a hand through it in an attempt to get it back to normal, which just made it act up even more. “That’s not helping.”

“It’s not just your hair, is it?” He got what his friend was getting at almost immediately and decided to have a little fun with it. “Yeah, turns out I’m actually in love with Douwe. We’re eloping.” Her eyes widened for a split second before she realised Vanja was poking fun at the situation and smacked him on the arm. “Not funny! What would the cat say?” Not waiting for an answer, she shoved the cat in question into his arms and picked up his phone, putting it in her pocket. “Don’t protest. You’ll be seeing him in a few hours, anyway--there’s no need to text him.” It was a fair point, so he just scratched Praznina behind the ears as he waited for the pre-wedding preparation to begin.

A few hours later, the place was abuzz with activity. Ironically enough, though, the butterflies in Duncan’s stomach were beginning to settle down. As he took sporadic sips from the mug of tea in his hands, he thought about everything that had brought him--brought them --to this moment. When Vanja, clumsy as ever, had tripped over a mic stand at a Eurovision preparty in Budapest and had nearly fallen on his face, Duncan hadn’t thought twice before he reached out to catch him. They had struck up a conversation pretty quickly after he set him back on his feet, and when he had gotten a crazy business idea, he found himself calling a certain Montenegrin.

When eventually, he found himself falling for a certain Montenegrin, too.

When Vanja, during the Battle of Dusseldorf, had called him his winner, had said that he got his strength from him. When they shared a dance and kissed for the first time, when he knew that wherever Vanja was, it was where he belonged.

When he made the decision that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him and bought him an engagement ring, when he got down on one knee with that ring and asked him a question that he only wanted to hear one three-letter answer to.

Now, here they were, about to begin a new chapter of their lives, surrounded by their loved ones. If it all went well, by the end of the night their only worries would be sore feet from dancing too much and how drunk either one of them was. The tea was soon gone, and as he paced the room, he pulled the small piece of paper that held his vows out of the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket, going over words that he already knew by heart.

He had spent the better part of a week writing them, thankful that he had told Vanja ages ago that his songwriting notebook was off-limits to anyone but himself unless he said otherwise. One of the perks of being engaged to a fellow musician was that he understood the need for secrecy when it came to unreleased music. It was easy to pretend that he was writing another song when, in fact, he was trying to condense everything he felt about him into a three-minute speech. Whenever he could, he would steal glances at his fiancé as he wrote, always searching for another spark of inspiration. Now that he thought about it, his vows were a lot like a song: full of emotion, with a crescendo to boot. The last line, like so many of the songs he wrote, was his favourite.

Even if I love you so much that it hurts, I would rather have the pain than to not love you.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. When he called for whoever had knocked to come in, he was surprised to see it was Ilse and got to his feet, ready to hear that something catastrophic had occurred. “Nothing bad has happened, has it?” She laughed and shook her head. “Nothing bad happened, Duncan. I just wanted to check on you. It’s not every day someone I’ve mentored gets married, you know.”

“That’s true. I just keep expecting something else to happen, you know what I mean? Maybe it’s just nerves.” Ilse didn’t hesitate before hugging him gently, the skirt of her powder-blue dress rustling as she moved. “It’s alright that you’re nervous. I would be, too. But you and Vanja have been through a lot. Nobody knows you like he does. I think that’s why you two fell in love so quickly, why you don’t really argue. You complement each other, and even when you’re at odds, you still love each other.” Not too far away, the clock struck six, and with his heart racing from excitement, he got up, smiling. “You’re right. Now it’s time for me to get married.”

Rather than one of them walking down the aisle to meet the other, as so many couples chose to do, they had opted instead to make the walk together, so it was with bated breath that Vanja waited for Duncan to arrive. Their wedding may not have been the most traditional one in the book, but another tradition they had kept was not seeing each other’s attire until they were ready to make the walk. “Vanja?” He heard Duncan’s voice ahead of him, cursing the fact that the place was only lit by candlelight, and went forward, trying his best not to bump into anything. “I’m here.” When he saw him, he couldn’t help but laugh. They had both chosen light gray as the base colour for their tuxedos, but where Duncan had eschewed a bow tie in favour for an open collar, he had chosen a dark purple one--for fun, he had said to Vogel when she saw it for the first time. She had nearly laughed, but in the end had just said it looked good. “Great minds think alike?”

“If you want to think about it that way, sure.” He was tempted to kiss him, but managed to hold back--he could wait for a few minutes. “They’re waiting for us. It’s now or never.” The moment their hands touched, he felt as if he never wanted to let him go again.

Their walk was short, but he managed to slow it down in his mind enough to gather as many details as possible: the strains of classical music in the air, the soft perfume of the flower petals scattered on the floor, the faces of their loved ones, and, of course, the weight of Duncan’s hand in his. Eventually, they reached the end of the walk and faced each other, now holding both of each other’s hands as Edsilia began the ceremony. “We are gathered here today to join Vanja and Duncan in marriage. If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Luckily, the only thing that came after was silence, and Duncan let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “No chance of that now.” A collective sigh of relief could have echoed through the room and they wouldn’t have been surprised. “You’ve each written your own vows?”

A few moments passed before Vanja began to recite his vows, looking nowhere but Duncan’s eyes as he spoke. “You know, every morning I wake up and wonder--how did I get so lucky to have someone like you in my life? How did I get so lucky to be able to love someone like you?”

He paused for a moment, then laughed softly. “I realise now that it’s not luck. It’s not even coincidence. It’s fate. I love you so, so much, Duncan. I promise that I will always be by your side, no matter how difficult things may get, no matter how bad a situation might be. I promise to love you until I take my last breath, and even then, I’ll find you in whatever afterlife there is. I cannot imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. Wherever life takes us, I know we’ll stay together through it all. I promise that I will love you like you love me, and that our love is something nobody will ever be able to take away from us.”

As he finished, he felt tears coming to his eyes, but managed to hold them off. If he cried when he said his own vows, he knew that he would be a complete and utter mess by the time Duncan got around to finishing his.

Duncan took a deep breath. It took everything he had not to cry when Vanja said his vows, and he felt his hands shake a bit as he fiddled with his suit. He looked into Vanja’s eyes and smiled softly. “I was nervous about writing my own vows, but looking at you right now, I have no idea why. I write songs for a living, many of them love songs, and yet I feel like those words are never enough to describe the way I feel about you. We were meant to be together, I am sure of that. Whatever life throws our way, we have only come out stronger in the end. It is because we are more than a couple, more than a team. We are soulmates.”

Duncan blinked a few times to clear his vision. Seeing Vanja look at him with so much love was almost overwhelming. “I don’t know if I believe in the power of the universe, and that everything was predetermined, but I do know that you were made for me, and I was made for you. I believe in the power of us. I love you so much, and I cannot believe how lucky I am that I get to wake up next to you every morning. No matter what may come our way, I will always be by your side. Even if I love you so much that it hurts, I would rather have the pain than to not love you.”

Vanja, much to his own surprise, didn’t cry at the words Duncan had just spoken. Instead, he gave his right hand a quick squeeze, his heart beating faster when he felt a squeeze in reply. A collective aww arose from the crowd, and they turned to see Lys and Praznina coming up the aisle, each of them bearing a small white pillow on their backs that carried the wedding bands. They stopped as soon as they got to Vanja and Duncan’s feet, almost waiting for them to take the rings, which they did with a laugh before they got to exchanging them.

“Be my love.” Vanja murmured as he put the ring on Duncan’s finger, hearing it clink lightly against his engagement ring. Rather than have a speech about how the rings symbolized how they promised to love each other forever, they had chosen a simple, three-word phrase that happened to be the title of one of their favourite songs, one that they had slow danced to in their living room more times than they could count. “Be my love.” He repeated, doing the same for him.

Now it was time for the really serious part.

“Do you, Vanja, take Duncan to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, through joy and sadness, as long as you both shall live?” There was only one answer to the question that he could ever think of giving. “I do.”

“And do you, Duncan, take Vanja to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, through joy and sadness, as long as you both shall live?” Duncan grinned, his smile sending a wave of happiness through Vanja, and simply said, “I do.”

This was it.

They were almost married.

All that was left was for Edsilia to say:

“Then by the power vested in me by the government of San Marino, I hereby pronounce you married. You may kiss the groom.” As they shared their first kiss as a married couple, cheers broke out in the room, their friends and family ecstatic to see that they had finally gotten their happy ending.

And it felt pretty damn good.

Chapter Text

“It’s funny. This morning, I could barely eat a thing, but now I’m starving .” Duncan murmured as he ate another bite of risotto. “That may be thanks to the fact that we’re married now, my dear husband. Your nerves are gone.” Vanja teased, still a bit in awe that they were actually married , that he could call Duncan his husband. He kept running his thumb over the second ring that was now on his finger, almost as if he were scared it would disappear if he didn’t. “You’re right, they are.”

He smiled, taking in the afterparty’s setting: outdoors, held under the canopy of a large white tent, the warm night air stirred by a breeze, fairy lights giving the place a lovely glow. It was perfect--just as they had planned, just as they had wanted. Footsteps sounded behind them, and they turned to see Ness, her hands in the pockets of her dark blue suit jacket. When she had picked out the outfit she was going to wear for their wedding, she had warned them that they weren’t going to see her in a dress, and she had followed through. “You two ready for a dance?”

“Sorry, Ness, but I’m only dancing with him tonight.” She let out a groan, looking like she was about to elbow Vanja in the ribs, but held back. “Go dance, you crazy kids.” He grabbed Duncan’s hand, hardly looking back as he replied, “We’re both older than you, Ness.”

As they took to the dance floor and a familiar piano melody began, they were nearly in an embrace when they began to dance. This closeness was what made both of them feel safe, what made them feel they had found where they belonged.

Any time that you’re thinking of me, that you might want me, I’ll come on over.

Don’t you know?

Any time, any place, I am yours.

“Hey.” Duncan glanced up at his husband, slightly startled to hear him speak during their first dance, and raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

You’re a lesson that I love learning, so anytime that you’ve got a yearning,

Don’t you know?

Any time, any place, I am yours.

Vanja just smiled before he said the three words that could always make his heart beat faster. “I love you.” Even though he heard him say it nearly every day, it still made him extraordinarily happy to hear it again. “I love you, too.”

You’re what I belong to, the one thing that feels true, everything I could ever want.

If you ever need me, I’m waiting on you to walk right through that door.

Any time, any place, I am yours.

“I’m glad we picked this song for our first dance. It might have gotten zero points at the time, but it makes me feel all the right things.” He let out a small sigh of content. “We finally got our happy ending, Vanja. The movie’s over for real now. I got the trophy. I got the one I love to love me back. Now all that’s left is a long, happy life together, this time without anyone else getting kidnapped, or erased from the earth. Starting with our honeymoon.”

“Less talking, more dancing, ljubavi .” Around them, others had partnered up and were dancing as well, which made it easier for them to carry on a private conversation, despite what Vanja had just said. “I’m just so happy, I feel like I’m going to cry.” Duncan finally confessed, hoping that he didn’t sound like an insanely lovestruck mess.

If you're hoping for second chances, for stolen kisses, I got the answer.

Don't you know?

Anytime, anyplace, I am yours.

“If I managed to make it through your vows without crying, then you can make it through a dance without crying, too. But if you do have to cry, I’ll wipe your tears away, I promise. Just like when you cry at romantic movies.” It was a callout of the highest order, but it made Duncan laugh--he did tend to cry whenever they watched a movie that involved romance as its main plot point, even if it was a comedy, and more often than not, Vanja would dry his tears before pulling him into a hug and cuddling him until the end of the movie.

You’re what I belong to, the one thing that feels true, everything I could ever want.

If you ever need me, I’m waiting on you to walk right through that door.

Any time, any place, I am yours.

The song was nearing its end, but they didn’t want to let each other go just yet, so they kept slow dancing until they heard a far more upbeat song beginning to play. “Is that…‘La Venda’?”

“It sure as hell is!” Duncan let out a whoop as a massive impromptu dance party broke out on the floor, pulling Vanja into the center with him to go wild, his cheeks flushed with happiness. That was how they spent most of the night: dancing like mad with each other, with a single stop a few hours later to cut and eat the wedding cake. They took their plates a few paces away from the tent, taking a seat side by side under a tree with long, almost blanketlike branches. “Mmm. You were right, chocolate cake or nothing. You know what this reminds me of?”

“Those late nights when the club was just getting started and one of us would run out and get cake to keep us going while the other made tea?” Vanja had gotten it in one, which hadn’t surprised him at all. Sometimes, it was like they shared one mind, and could tell exactly what the other was thinking. “Exactly. Half the time, I’d come back and you were already asleep with the kettle in front of you. I was tempted too many times to let you sleep, but then I would realise that I liked talking to you more than watching you sleep, even though I thought you looked cute.”

“And here I was, thinking you only liked me for my mind.” He joked, trying to keep himself from blushing at being called cute. It wasn’t a word he often associated with himself. If anything, he associated it with Duncan and the way he looked when he was sleeping. “Vanja, Vanja, Vanja. I like your mind plenty. I like your face, too. But I fell in love with your heart and spirit. What makes you you. Time goes by, and faces change, but it’s what’s in your soul that counts the most. It always has.”

Duncan always knew what to say to make him happy and to make his heart melt, and this was no exception. Maybe it was because of the alcohol he had consumed, or maybe because his emotional side had already come out that day, but whatever the case was, he found himself pouring his heart out to him, and Duncan, much to his credit, listened patiently to his potentially-drunken ramblings. His patience was truly the stuff of legend.

“My soul, huh? Funny you say that--I get this feeling a lot when I’m around you. Like joy, but even deeper. Like how I think I would feel if soulmates were a proven thing. Does that sound stupid?” Putting the cake aside, Duncan took his hand, the warmth of his palm a welcome sensation that helped to clear his head. “No. It doesn’t sound stupid at all. Fate brought us together. If that doesn’t scream ‘soulmates’ to you, I don’t know what does. I believe we’re soulmates with all that I am, Vanja. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have said it in my vows.”

“Sap.” Even as he said it, Vanja knew that he didn’t mean the word. Duncan was everything to him, and wasn’t that what a soulmate was in the first place? “You don’t mean that. Not really. But even if you did, I’m your sap, and you love me.”

“I do. That’s why I married you.” They stayed that way for a while until they heard two pairs of footsteps coming towards them.

Unsurprisingly, Ness and Vogel had found them.

“Skipping out on your own wedding afterparty?” Ness asked, half-sarcastic, half-questioning. “We’re not skipping out , just taking a break from the world. Try it sometime. Besides, we just got married. Maybe we needed a little time away from the music, and with each other, you know what I mean?” Vogel kicked her shoes off and took a seat opposite them with her plate before she replied. “I get it. The world got a bit too loud for us, too. You two will be missed.”

“Considering we’ll only be, what, six hours away? You’ll be fine without us. The club will be in good hands while we’re gone. Just remember to call only if it’s an emergency. Like if Kirkorov has busted out of prison.”

“God forbid. Knowing our luck, you’ve made it come true by speaking it out loud.” They laughed, and it was then that Vanja knew for sure that he had found a family. Was it the most traditional of families? Hardly, but it worked for them.

And he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Chapter Text

“Are we being tourists right now?” The question came as they took in the scenery around them. They were on Crete; for their honeymoon, they had decided to go to Greece, and had spent a good deal of their time trying to be as unlike tourists as possible. “Just because a site is popular with tourists doesn’t mean we’re being tourists, Duncy. We’re travellers, if anything. Tourists visit, travellers observe, or so they say.”

His words made Duncan sigh happily, relaxing enough to be able to fully appreciate the ancient architecture. “It’s beautiful here. Maybe when we retire, we can buy a house on one of the islands and raise some sheep.” Vanja tried his best to hold back his laughter--Duncan was a city dweller through and through, and never in a million years could he imagine him living anywhere remotely rural. “You need the city.” He finally said, looping an arm through his husband’s. “Living in the countryside isn’t in our book anytime soon, I think. Besides, we’re already raising one sheep in part, or did you suddenly forget about Praznina’s best friend?”

It was an unlikely pair--a sheep and a cat being so close--but they got along extremely well. Sometimes, they would be found sleeping together, Praznina loafing on top of Lys’ back, a living black-and-white cookie. It was honestly too cute for words.

“You’re right, I’m definitely a city boy. Even so, I think I’d be alright in the countryside, as long as you were with me.” Vanja laughed, giving him a small shake of the head. “Let me be perfectly honest with you. If you told me you wanted us to move to the countryside, I’d think you had gone mad. Or that someone had put you under a mind-control spell. And if that were the case, I’d have to say some things that would shock you out of it.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows--after Vanja’s confession that he had once been a fan of a certain song from the 1990 Contest, there was nothing he could say that would shock him, or so he thought. “Oh, really? Like what?”

“I don’t think the Netherlands should have won in 1975.”

He audibly gasped. “You take that back.” Even as he said it, he smirked--part of him agreed, even though the Dutch pride should have won out. “What else can you say that would shock me out of mind control? Answer carefully.” He added the last part after giving him a kiss. “Carefully, huh? Alright. I like dancing with you too much for it to be an occasional thing.”

It didn’t come as a shock to him; whenever the radio was on in their apartment as they did chores, he’d often catch Vanja swaying to the music, humming under his breath. “Not shocking. I want to dance with you more often, too. We should make it a weekly thing. You, me, sappy love songs...I can imagine it already. Date night just got more interesting.”

They had made a promise before they had gotten married that, after they came back from their honeymoon, they would set aside one night a week to spend time with each other that didn’t involve work. Put aside the paperwork , Vanja had said, and focus on us . Even though they spent most of the time they were working or at work together, it wasn’t the same as being with each other and showing affection. There was always something to distract one of them. “First cooking lessons, now dancing? You’re right, date night is getting more interesting. It’ll probably end the same way as always, though.”

“With one of us singing the other to sleep? Probably.” He moved his arm slightly so they could hold hands, and Vanja smiled at the action. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“How could I not? You tell me every single day. But I don’t mind that you tell me often. I like to hear you say it. For what it’s worth, I love you, too.”

“Don’t you know, Duncan?” Vanja shook his head, laughing quietly, before he said something that made his heart melt. “You saying that is worth more than anything in this world to me.”