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Twenty minutes until the ceremony.
Twenty minutes until the biggest moment of their relationship.
Dave is starting to wonder if he can do this.
It’s not that he doesn’t love Karkat. Because he does. So much that sometimes he wonders how so much love fits inside him (and then feels that love seeping out with every kiss, every touch, every look. He is a well that never runs dry.) And it’s not that he isn’t ready to spend the rest of his life with him. Because he totally is. (Time is like. His whole thing. If this were any kind of mistake, a future Dave would have already warned him to avoid the wedding fees.)
When he really thinks about it, he feels ridiculous really. Having a crisis about whether the ceremony is going to be extravagant enough isn’t like him. But here he is, in the closet, having a panic attack over flowers.
Flowers of all things.
He didn’t want any of his friends working this wedding, they had ordered everything out, kept them all out of it, and he should have expected that that would mean a lot of falling through. The baker had called them this morning – trapped by a storm, they said, no way around it. Moments like that, he doesn’t know what he would have done without Rose. She had it dealt with before she even told him, getting Jane right on the case. The cake would be fine. The cake would be fine.
Jade had been by his side the whole day, dragging him through it, while Rose kept the whole thing afloat. She’d been next to him when the florist called last minute, and was already running off to fix it by the time he was off the phone. He was grateful for her help, of course, but she had probably made a mistake in leaving him alone. It had only taken a few minutes for him to find his way into the closet.
He could hear the guests rushing about outside. They’re getting into their places. They’re getting into their places for him. This is for him. He’s finding that hard to remember. This ceremony feels so much like a performance, he has to remind himself he chose this. They waited on purpose. They left the wedding as long as possible, to be sure there would be no weddings to follow. Ever obsessed with being on top, they wanted their wedding to be the biggest, most dramatic, the best.
The door creaks open.
Dave almost launches into his pre-prepared “hey this is my freak out closet and as the groom i think I get priority here” speech, but he doesn’t think that’ll work considering the person collapsing down in front of him is also the groom.
“Hey,” he says instead.
Karkat’s head shoots up. “What are you doing in the closet?! We get married in eighteen minutes and you’re hiding in the closet?”
“Seventeen minutes, thirty-six seconds,” he corrects automatically. “Was having a panic attack.”
“Are you still having a panic attack?”
“... Maybe.”
“Not quite sure ‘maybe’ or ‘yes but I don’t want to worry you’ maybe?”
Dave doesn’t answer. Karkat squirms over to his side of the closet and wraps his arms around him.
“C’mon. What’s up?”
“Keep feeling like it’s not right. Maybe we shouldn’t do this today.”
“Did a Future Dave tell you not to do it?”
“... No.”
“Then we’re doing it. We agreed, right? No matter how late or early it is, if this is a mistake, you come back and warn us. If you don’t come back, it wasn’t a mistake.”
Dave sighs and drops his head against Karkat’s chest. “I know. But so much has gone wrong already. I don’t know if I can take another thing.”
“Take me through it.”
“Baker got caught in a storm.”
“Jane showed me the new cake. Vanilla and red velvet, light frosting, her signature piping around the edges. Three tiers – top one super small like you wanted – can’t even tell the wedding toppers were made in a day. It’s fucking perfect. Next.”
“Florist called. Flat tire.”
“Explains the bouquets Jade was shoving in my face. Red and pink roses, you know I don’t know flower names, there’s some big white ones and some little white ones, and a bunch of good shaped leaves. They’re pretty, and you know that she knows what they all mean. Anything else?”
He pushes his head against his partner’s chest and groans. “No.”
“All out of excuses?”
“I guess.”
“Then breathe for a minute.” Karkat sits back on his heels and holds Dave’s shoulders firmly. “Breathe, fuckass. We can’t get married if you stop breathing.”
“I’m a god, I literally do not need to breathe.”
“Shut up. Breathe with me or I’m divorcing you.”
Dave laughs, but he starts breathing. Counting it out, matching Karkat’s breaths, letting his heart rate come back down.
Karkat presses their foreheads together. “Remember, dumbass, we already did this. We’re just doing it for an audience.”
“Best day of my life,” he mumbles.
“You fell face first into the grass.”
“Out of a tree, yeah. And you tried to catch me, but I was on the ground by the time you got there.”
“You can fly, how the fuck did you fall anyway?”
“I wanted you to catch me.”
“Sorry.”
“It was cute that you tried.”
“The Mayor tripped bringing us the rings.”
Dave snorts. “In hindsight, maybe shouldn’t have asked him to play so many parts. We could have borrowed Casey as a ring-bearer. Or Vodka Mutini. Or anyone else.”
“But he was so happy to help.”
“He always is. I’m glad we did this when he was around to see it.”
“Like we would have ever done it without him.”
“How long ‘til the ceremony?”
“Twelve minutes, fifty-three seconds.”
“Ready?”
“Nah. Can we make out for a bit first?”
Karkat lightly punches his shoulder. “We both have our hair styled. Do you really think no one’s gonna notice us walking in looking like shit?”
“What’s the point of having a husband if I can’t make out with him in a closet before our fake wedding?”
“Everyone is going to know.”
“Karkat.” Dave’s voice turns serious. “We’re getting married. I think they know that we’ve kissed before.”
“Shut up.” He kisses him on the forehead. “Just for a few minutes. I want to look decent before we get out there.”
“Kanaya’ll sort you right out. Rose is just gonna let me walk out there a mess.”
“And you’ll deserve it. Are we making out or not?”