Work Text:
It had all been so perfect, you thought as you clung gleefully to Toaster’s side, their sweet laughter filling the halls with yours as you two stubbled through the hallways to your apartment. Walking would have been easier if you weren’t insistent on reaching up to weren’t reaching up to kiss his cheek, his ear, his throat, little darting presses that had him flushed and giggling. Every time you pressed a kiss against them, they pulled you closer, or squeezed your hand, until finally he was just draped around you like a particularly wiggly scarf. You knew he would have been embarrassed about the PDA almost any other day.
But not today. Not with the silver rings still so new on your fingers, the marriage certificate folded carefully into an envelope and tucked into the inside pocket of their suit jacket.
It had been you who had suggested it. You both got a little nervous about big events, and while you had talked about getting married, the idea of planning a wedding, and making an event out of it had caused you both to balk.
Last night you had been curled in their arms, hand on his cheek and rubbing lightly over the curve of their cheekbone, following the path down the line of their chin. Toaster was preening under your touch, eyes closed and anytime you pulled away for even a moment, he let out a soft, almost imperceptible noise and tilted his head to find your touch again.
Your heart swelled with just how right this felt. How this is how it should always be. Why couldn’t you just skip the wedding, the planning, and just be married? Just to have that final connection secured between you.
It hit you out of nowhere, the most obvious of answers. Of course, you could get married. Drunk people in Vegas could get married without much trouble. Why couldn’t you and Toasty? You lived in a big enough city, surely somewhere around town, there was a way to just elope.
So you’d whispered, “Marry me. Tomorrow. Please.”
He’d froze under that, eyes snapping open, and his cheeks flushed. So cute.
He’d stumbled over his words a bit, just a hint of confusion, but when you explained your idea, the answer was instant. Yes, of course he would. You’d spent the night finding a nearby courthouse, and Toaster managed to pull some strings through his connections to arrange for you to pick up a marriage certificate in the morning. A few hours of scrambling for paperwork later and you had both collapsed into bed, reeling at the idea that this was happening. That it could be this simple.
And it had been. Toasty had greased the wheels of bureaucracy a bit, promising that he had no qualms about bribing a few people if it meant he could be yours that much sooner. He’d dressed in a button-up and suit jacket, grumbling that he wished he had a nicer skirt that he could wear for this instead of pants. But that didn’t matter. What he wore never mattered. He could have taken you to the courthouse in his favorite hoodie and you wouldn’t have hesitated for even a second.
But you’d gone to get the certificate, and he’d gone out to buy the rings, and at 3 in the afternoon you’d met at the courthouse to make it official. You hardly remembered what the clerk had said as they’d gone though the ceremony. All that had mattered was how Toasty’s hands felt in yours, shaking slightly. The way their eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze with so much love and adoration it made you want to sob. The feeling of his ring slipping onto your finger, and the quiet, overwhelmed and gleeful noise he made when you slipped its pair onto his. The gentle way they kissed you when the clerk announced you as spouses. Those were the moments that spun in your head.
Toasty had taken you to dinner, and it had been the longest day of your life. You kept glancing at the ring on his finger; a symbol of your love for him, of how nothing could separate you anymore. Dinner had been filled with lingering touches, soft whispers, the wine softening you both until there was no one else in the world.
Now, outside the door to your apartment, you couldn’t tear yourself away from him, and you were pleased that he seemed to be in the same boat, his hand brushing your waist, drifting along your arms and shoulder. Any touch was enough, but also infuriating not even close to enough.
He was the one pressing kisses to you this time as you fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door as your spouse- you can’t stop yourself from grinning like an idiot at the thought. Your spouse. And you were his- kissed along your jaw, reveling in your touch when you reached back to grab their hand, twining your fingers with his.
The door finally opened, and you pulled Toasty through, throwing a leg out to kick it shut the moment they were inside the house. You heard the door slam, but you were already throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you properly, and he responded eagerly, pressing himself closer to you and folding you into his embrace.
You didn’t move from there for a long moment. Maybe it was even several moments, or hours, or days. You would never stop kissing him if you could, just lost in the tender way he sought you, their little gasps when you pulled back to breathe.
The moment did end, finally, with you pressed against the wall, his forehead pressed against yours, just breathing each other in. Their eyes were shut, and you took a moment to watch the way they breasted, the fluttering of their eyelashes. They were just so perfect.
Toasty’s eyes finally opened, and he squeezed his arms around you.
“Hey,” his voice was barely a whisper, but still the tone sent shivers down your spine, your eyes fluttering shut. “Can I ask you for something?”
“Anything. Everything.” You would give him the world if you could. It wouldn’t be enough, but maybe it would be a start, a fraction of what he deserved.
Toasty chucked, and you shook again, pulling yourself tighter to him. “I know… it wasn’t really a traditional wedding or anything like that but… there is a wedding thing I would love to do with you.”
“And what’s that?”
He hesitates for just a movement, and you take the second to press forward with a soft encouraging kiss at the corner of their mouth, and he makes a soft noise at the touch. “Could we- uh… Can I dance with you?”
You open your eyes to meet his, and there’s such hope and joy in his eyes that you almost start crying for the second time that day.
“I would love to dance with you,” you whisper back.
He’s almost giddy with excitement as they pull back from you, gripping your hand tight as he pulls you to the living room. They let you go briefly in order to fumble with their phone, and when they finally set it down, a soft tune croons through the speaker. You watch as he takes a deep breath, then turns back to you and holds out a hand. You take it, and they pull you close.
Your arms reach up around their neck, and theirs fall securely to your waist as you sway in place in the living room. You stare up at him for a moment, caught up in the wonder of it all, before learning your head forward and resting against him. You feel his soft chuckle in his chest, and a moment later, his head is pressed against yours, leaning down to press his cheek to the top of your head.
There would be little moments you would remember about this day. Little fragments that would come back to you. Tomorrow, when you hopped into the server to tell your friends the news, there would be little stories, like Toasty had spent an hour agonizing over what rings would be perfect for you, or how you’d confused the poor woman you were picking the certificate up from because you forgot it would have Toasty’s real name and not the one you called them. But it would be this moment, in the quiet of the living room, listening to their heartbeat as you swayed, that you kept close to your heart.