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It’s appealing to see Simon trying to bite back his cheeky grin.
We’re standing side by side now, next to the appetizers table, looking at the party in front of us. His tail is flicking around, eventually wrapping itself around my waist or my arm, then letting go again. I don’t think I’ve stopped holding his hand for even a second since we arrived.
It started as a joke, saying that an event like that, gathering all kinds of homophobic, transphobic, and overall ignorant and annoying relatives, was the kind that demanded excessive PDA. In our relationship, Simon and I never really displayed acts of physical intimacy in front of others, because of a number of insecurities. That is, until some weeks ago, when we got engaged. Suddenly, being appropriate and discreet or preserving what little dignity I had left was not important at all .
I’m spending the rest of my life with this man, and I’ll be soft with him and loud about it whenever I want, thank you very much.
— They’ll never consider coming to our handfasting with us acting like this.— he whispers to me, leaning his head so he speaks close to my ear while I wave briefly at a great-aunt that looks mortified in seeing us. I wonder what it is – Simon’s wings and tail out for everyone to see them? Our very obvious gay behavior? My big, voluminous, magnificent floral skirt matching my equally gorgeous floral suit jacket?
Probably all of it.
— You really think they’d come to our handfasting at all ?— I ask. He shrugs. Crowley, I love this man.
— Well, it’s kind of important, innit? You’re the Pitch heir, your wedding is supposed to be a big deal.
I’m going to combust. He’s so lovely.
— My queer wedding? I don’t think so, Snow.
— I do, Tyrannus .— he bites back. It’s his way of calling me out for saying Snow instead of Simon.— But I don’t think we should invite anyone.
I immediately smile.
— No point inviting all these people. I figured only a few would come anyway. Our friends. Ebb and Fiona. Daphne and the children, mabe my father. I think we should only invite the people we actually want there. Maybe not for the next year, the more official thing, but at least for this first ceremony. It’ll be like having your wedding dinner rehearsal in the form of an engagement party.
Just as Snow is about to reply, there’s someone catching my hand.
— Basil! — that’s my aunt giving me a handshake. Not Fiona, I mean, she’s from the Grimm side of the family. Dev’s mother. Since he’s not hanging around under her wing, I’m guessing I’ll be seeing him with Niall very soon. I still don’t know where they stand on their relationship being open for the Old Families to know about, so I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign.— I’ve been looking for you everywhere, dear! There are so many people here, Merlin, it’s impossible to find the people you want to meet. Oh, I almost forgot! Dev told me the news, congratulations on the engagement!
I thank her, still distracted, thinking about Simon. I’m not surprised she didn’t find us sooner. Honestly, the way we are, it would be normally very easy to spot us. But Snow and I have been running around all evening. Mostly because we wanted to provoke as many people as possible.
Back in the beginning of our relationship, Snow was terrified of a scenery like this. Surrounded by people who openly disapproved of us, who were openly staring and commenting, and even avoiding us. Now that he had gotten over it, it seemed like a challenge. He’d push his jaw forward, smile at me, and his eyes would scream trouble.
I love to see it. We’re a perfect match.
We danced together, we kissed a lot , and I made sure to say hello to every relative I knew and ask if they had already met “my fiancé, Simon Snow” . Which of course they did, or at least had heard of him, obviously. What kind of mage doesn’t know Simon Snow, our savior? And of course they’d known about our relationship. It was quite a scandal when word got out. But I spent nearly a decade pining for him, I’ve owned every right to brag about being with Simon, especially to people who find it revolting. It almost makes me want to invite everyone to our handfasting out of spite . Fiona would call me a dramatic arse and, influenced by her own queer rebel feelings, say I should do it. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t.
Simon elbows me, as soon as my aunt leaves.
— Alright, maybe she can come.— he whispers.— What do you think?
I simply smile and take a sip of my punch.
— Do you want to go dancing again?