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He has never seen his best friend looking so hyper. And that's saying something, given that ever since Matthew Taylor asked her to marry him after dating for 8 months, April has been very hyper. A spring-in-her-step, always-bouncing-and-smiling kind of hyper. The blush that is covering her cheeks is very April though, and it's clear she's dying to ask him something.
"I have something to ask you, and I want you to keep an open mind. I know it might seem weird, but I've seen it on Pinterest, it has already been done, and I kind of like the whole 'reversal of expectations' aspect of it all, when you think about it. It's not traditional, sure, but you're my best friend, and..." She looks at him with wide eyes and he can't help but grin, because he's always liked when April gets all worked up (and also when she refers to him as her best friend, their friendship having survived years of residency and of being attendings at the same hospital).
"Will you be my maid of honor?"
He brings his hands to his chest, pretending to clutch his heart.
"Yes, a thousand times yes!"
She laughs and swats him, and he meets her eyes.
"Do you think I would have let you ask Arizona? Or worse, your sister Kimmie? Of course I will."
She giggles and runs in his arms, hugging him with all of her body, and he lifts her lightly until her feet don't touch the ground.
"Wait, does that mean I have to wear a dress?" he asks, bringing her back on the ground. She grins and brings her hand to her chin, pretending to think.
"I think salmon-pink would suit you very well. Bring out your eyes and everything."
"This one is perfect."
How did he end up going cake tasting with Matthew Taylor, he has no idea.
Well, he has an idea. April was obviously supposed to go. What she wasn't supposed to do was get stuck in the ER with victims from a MVC 10 minutes before her shift ended. Seeing him on his way home in the lobby, she had asked him if he would mind going to the cake tasting in her place. "Not that I don't trust Matthew's choice, I do, I just think two opinions are better than one. And well, you know your food and I know you won't let them get away with a pretty cake that tastes like cardboard." He had said yes, because one, who refuses free food? Not him. And two, because he's her maid of honor and that's what a maid of honor does.
In the small pastry shop, he realizes that he's never had more than one or two conversations with Matthew, and that it's the first time it's just the two of them. April is usually always there, chatting and trying to connect those two parts of her life, but he can't recall any meaningful interaction between him and the guy who is now the most important man in April's life.
"It's pretty good, yeah. Too bad you won't be able to choose that one."
"Why?"
"April is allergic to peanuts," Jackson says, tapping the ingredients list with his finger.
Matthew sighs and drops his head.
"Darn it! I really wanted that one. Hey, do you think it would be weird if we had two cakes?"
He wants to ask the guy if he's ever met his future wife, because there's no way that April Elizabeth Kepner would allow two cakes at her dream wedding. She'd go for the chocolate cake with raspberry mousse, hands down. But he barely knows the guy and doesn't know if the joke would be welcome, so he just shrugs and cuts a piece of the lemon cake in front of him, finding it tastes a bit too sour.
He's operating with Alex on a kid with a cleft palate, and it takes all of five minutes before the guy starts teasing him about being "one of the girls" in April's wedding.
"You're jealous?"
"Of being at Kepner's beck and call for the next few months? Right. Super jealous." Alex rolls his eyes. "Wait, did you take the job so you could get it on with one of the bridesmaids?"
"You want me to get it on with one of April's very married sisters or with Robbins?"
"Right. Then you're even weirder that I thought."
It's Jackson's turn to roll his eyes. Alex has never understood his friendship with April, always turning his nose up when they were all living together and the two of them did something together, be it watching TV or taking a walk. Still, he's not ready for what comes out of Alex's mouth next.
"You know, back when we were roommates, I always thought the two of you had something going on, or that you would end up together. It would have made so much sense, given how you were acting."
"Made sense? You always made fun of me for being her friend because we were so different."
"Yeah, well, what can I say, you two just work together. You ground her and always calm her down, she brings out your carefree side, whatever."
The patient's stats suddenly drop, so they focus on stabilizing him and operating after that, but when the surgery's done, Jackson looks at Alex and shakes his head.
He refuses to believe Alex Karev – Alex Karev, of all people! – is that good at deciphering human relationships.
The Kepner sisters are intense.
They have very strong opinions about everything, and they aren't afraid to voice them, no matter how inappropriate or insulting they can be. Their favorite pastime though seems to be giving backhanded compliments to the only sister that ever escaped Ohio, and for the third time in ten minutes, he finds himself making a face at Arizona and taking a sip of his glass of champagne (because if he has to be present for the dress selection, and he apparently does, because April has said 'You're an Avery, you know these things', then he's made it clear that they had to do this in style, and that champagne was required). He's walking a fine line here, trying not to make her sisters hate him, but still defending April because that's what a best friend does. What a decent person does, even.
Or so he tells himself.
April slides the curtain of the dressing room and walks towards them in what must be the 64th wedding dress she's been trying on today, and he suddenly gets what people mean when they talk about "the one".
It's the perfect dress for her.
Even the Kepners agree, and April giggles and twirls amid a sea of oohs and aahs. He makes sure to keep a smile on his face, hiding the ache in his chest as he stares at her. She's cute in scrubs, in jeans, in athletic wear, but that dress was made for her, and he remembers a time years ago when she was complaining about being single and he had told her that anyone would be lucky to have her. This only makes the ache in his chest intensify.
The medical professional in him tells him he has nothing to worry about and that physically, everything's fine with him.
The 31-year-old man who just had the biggest realization of his life tells him he is screwed.
He's on the phone with his mom when he looks at the time and sees he has to leave soon if he wants to make it to the appointment on time.
"Mom, I have to go, April is waiting for me."
"Oooh, what is it this time?"
"Flower selection. I think."
"I'll let you go then. You don't keep a bride waiting!"
Before hanging up, he swears he can hear her say "With all the wedding activities she has you doing, you'd think you were the groom!" and his heart skips a beat, but he shrugs it off and puts on his coat.
The words get stuck in his head all day though, all the way through the florist appointment and his suit fitting and the selection of party favors. He tries to tell himself that he's just nostalgic, and that he's afraid because he's going to miss her. Because he's going to miss her, miss all the time they spend together at one of their places (because they had decided to be grown-ups and to live in their own apartments when they became attendings, but he swears that April has cooked more often that he has in his own kitchen, and that her fancy couch is bound to have his butt imprint on it from all their TV marathons and late-night discussions). Yes, that's it. April is going to spend more time with her husband and less time with her best friend, as she should, and he's just pre-mourning the decrease in their interactions. That's all.
He's not sure he's ready to acknowledge the fact that instead of sitting a few seats away on the bride's right side, he'd maybe (definitely) rather be the one sitting directly on her left.
It would be easier if Matthew was a crappy fiancé or a bad guy.
He's not. He actually loves April, following her like a puppy, and even if party planning is not his forte and he doesn't look too interested in the finer aspects of the wedding, you can see he wants to make his bride happy, saying yes to practically anything she wants.
Practically.
"I don't see why he doesn't want the 'mint-to-be' mints. That's a great pun!"
"It's not."
"It is!"
"And to think that you make fun of me when I tell dad jokes."
Now that the wedding is getting closer, they're working on the seating plan. Between the Kepner sisters' tendency to have beef with almost every one of their cousins and blood relations and their coworkers' ongoing drama at the hospital, designing a seating chart that will prevent any explosion during the reception is a delicate task that she hasn't wanted to outsource to anyone else.
"So you never told me. Are you bringing a plus one?"
"I am."
He already feels bad he's been having all these thoughts, and feels even worse when he realizes he's hoping for a reaction from her, anything, to show him he's not crazy.
"Really? Do I know her?"
Her tone is cheerful, but years of practice of being April's friend make him notice it's not as enthusiastic as it could be.
Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.
"You do, actually."
He thinks he sees something in her gaze, soon chased by a polite look of curiosity. She bites her lip and looks cautious, almost afraid to ask the next question, so he takes pity on her and doesn't keep her waiting.
"It's my mom, you dork. You think she'd miss your wedding? I didn't even have to ask her, she invited herself."
He's rewarded by a genuine April smile, one that showcases her dimple and reaches her eyes, and his breath catches in his throat for a second too long.
He's definitely, completely screwed.
"Can I ask you something?"
"No, April, I will not get a Pinterest account."
"No, it's not that! I mean you should, it would actually be easi– never mind," she backtracks when she sees his face. "I, it's... very personal?"
He blinks once. Twice.
"Yes?"
"You know how I'm a, well, a virgin," and the way she whispers that last word is so endearing he has to clench his fists to stay grounded.
"And Matthew is as well. We haven't done anything, like, we kissed, sure, and there was one time when we were in the heat of the moment and we almost, well, you know, but we didn't, and..."
He closes his eyes.
"April. Do you have a question?"
Sex is the last thing he wants to talk about with her. More precisely, sex between her and her fiancé. But he has decided that he won't ever be anything more than her best friend, the one who's always had her back ever since they were the last two Mercy West residents left. If he can't be the one who promises to honor and cherish her until death do them part, then he'll still be the one who vowed to protect her and be on her side no matter what.
Her cheeks are now a flaming red, and he thinks he sees something in her eyes before she drops her gaze and suddenly becomes very interested in studying her shoes.
"I'm just scared, that's all. And I have so many questions, but I guess that's normal. And I don't want to talk to Matthew about it, because it's weird, so I wanted to ask you, and..."
His mouth is dry, and he's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe. She breaks the moment though, shaking her head and plastering a fake smile on her face.
"Never mind, it's silly. Now, are you sure about that Pinterest account? I can send you an invite, so you could create your own boards, and then–"
"Your mom would so get a kick out of this."
"Say one word to her and I'll tell her how many times you practiced your speech before you met her for the first time when we were interns."
"You're a grumpus, you know that?"
"Anything for you."
Because his life is a complete joke at this point, he's dancing with April. Because of course, April has scheduled dance lessons for her and Matthew's first dance as husband and wife. And of course, Matthew Taylor, paramedic extraordinaire, had to be called away because of an accident just outside of Seattle right before the lesson. And of course the lesson couldn't be rescheduled, leaving April to plead with him to come with her so she can learn the choreography and teach Matthew later. It took the combined efforts of her puppy eyes and her dimple to convince him, but here he is, waltzing with her, not at all feeling like he could explode any minute.
"I'm just saying, looks like your fancy Avery dance lessons paid off, that's all."
"Well at least you– Ouch! That was my foot!"
She makes a face.
"Sorry, sorry! I have no coordination. Moline didn't have fancy balls or ballet classes, you know."
"Just your regular Cotton-Eyed Joe line dance in a barn?"
He kind of deserves it when she crushes his foot for the second time. At least she went for the other one this time. April Kepner is nothing but considerate.
"Listen, you have to relax and let me lead. Let the pro show you how it's done."
She nods, and he tightens his grasp on her waist, bringing her closer to him. They start moving in rhythm with the music, one two three one two three, and his heartbeats soon become wild, rushing faster than the music and making him dizzy. He makes the mistake of looking her in the eye, and the other dancers, the music, everything else disappears. He doesn't know how they're still moving, because he's not leading anymore, he's not sure he can do anything but stare at her. All of his attention is focused on the redhead in front of him, the gorgeous, unbelievable, freaking engaged redhead who looks at him with a glint in her eye and her mouth slightly open.
If it were anyone else, he would do it. He would wear his big boy's pants, close the gap between them and kiss the hell out of her, consequences be damned.
But it's April. His best friend April. The most important relationship in his life, and he can't, won't begrudge her the happiness she's chosen for herself. He's trying to tell himself he's being selfless here and ignore the little voice telling him that he's a coward.
When the song ends, he remembers how to breathe, and he sees something in April's eyes that almost sweeps all of his convictions away. He opens his mouth, but she shakes her head and turns away, walking a bit too fast towards the changing room.
You're not a coward, says the little voice. You're just an idiot.
He knows April loves his apartment, because she had spent a solid twenty minutes raving about the hardwood floors and the balcony and the Seattle views from his living-room the first time she'd visited. So obviously, he volunteers his place for the bachelorette party, cringing every time a Kepner sister brushes past one of the paintings on the walls or holds a crystal wine glass a bit too firmly.
He's the maid of honor, so he's vetoed the stripper the Kepners wanted to hire ("you have pretty eyes, but you're a buzzkill," were Libby's exact words when he told them the news, but given that Libby's tastes in everything seem to greatly differ from her sister's, he doesn't attach too much importance to her opinion) and opted for something simple. Gifts, drinks, snacks, music and games: as far as April is concerned, that's the recipe for a good night, so that's what she gets.
"Oookay April!" Arizona shouts a little bit too enthusiastically (who knew Robbins was such a fun drunk?). "What's Matthew's favorite color?"
"Blue. No wait, brown. Or something."
He's more than a little buzzed, so he joins the others in laughing away her hesitation and takes another sip of his beer. Who has brown as a favorite color?
"Last question. What's the first thing you're planning to do once Matthew and you are finally aloooone after the wedding?"
April ignores the whistles and suggestive comments and answers, with a straight face (but he knows her and doesn't miss the tilt in her voice that says she knows what she's doing), "I don't know, remove my shoes? I'm sure my feet will be killing me after hours in heels, and– why are you laughing?"
The guests soon turn the music up and start dancing and jumping around, and he's happy the party is going well, but he needs a few minutes away from all the squealing and the loud music. When he slides open the door to his balcony, he finds out that of course she had the same idea.
"Are you hiding from your own bachelorette party?"
Startled, she turns towards him with a half-smile.
"No, it's pretty perfect. I just needed to get some air."
He joins her on the edge of the balcony, leaning on the railing, and she turns her gaze back to the city.
"I love this view."
"So you tell me every time you're here."
His eyes are focused on the city lights in front of them, but he can hear her smile.
"You know me well. You know, when we were playing that game when I had to answer questions about Matthew. I was thinking that you and I would probably get perfect scores if we had to answer questions about each other."
Taking his heart out of his chest, crushing it on the ground and stomping on it a few times would probably hurt less than this.
"Yeah?"
His voice is unsteady, a dark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes.
"Yeah. Like your secret hobby?" She points to the telescope behind them. "It's astronomy, because your grandfather would take you to the planetarium when you were a kid and you still remember the names of all the constellations. Your favorite meal? Definitely chicken tetrazzini. And favorite color? Come on, it's dark green. We would so crush this."
He doesn't trust himself to talk, so he just nods. Slowly, she gets closer to him, but he keeps his gaze fixed on the buildings in front of them. If he doesn't look at her, he can do this. If he doesn't look at her, he can keep pretending his heart is not bleeding and he can stop himself from yelling he loves her to anyone who would listen.
"Jackson. Look at me."
He shakes his head.
"Jackson."
Because he can't refuse her anything, he turns his head and notices how close they are. Notices her slowly raising her arm and bringing her hand to his cheek. His heart is pounding, and his brain is telling him not to lean towards her.
He ignores his brain and starts moving in her direction.
"April! Avery! Come back inside, we put on the chicken dance like you wanted!"
Arizona Robbins is evil.
April closes her eyes for a moment and puts a hand on her neck, massaging a spot. She seems like she's about to say something, but she closes her mouth and heads inside, letting out the sound of a flurry of laughs when she opens the glass door.
He stays outside a few more minutes. Or hours. He doesn't know anything anymore.
The rehearsal dinner is kind of a torture for him.
Everyone is happy and smiling and mingling. April is radiant, stunning in her pale pink dress that makes her look like a princess, and he feels like a traitor, but he would rather be anywhere – a dentist appointment, an Avery foundation board meeting, hell, even one of his boards sessions – than here.
"Damn, Avery. Who pissed in your cheerios this morning?"
"I'm fine, Karev."
"Right. You've been nursing the same scotch since we arrived here, and Jo just asked me if you were born with that frown between your eyebrows."
He stays silent, because that's usually the best technique when dealing with Alex.
"Just saying. I've never seen a maid of honor looking so angry at a wedding. Well, if you don't count that chick in that twenty-something dresses movie."
It says a lot that he's not jumping on Alex's apparently secret knowledge of romantic comedies and making fun of him.
"It's just a stomach bug."
"Is that why you didn't want to make a speech tonight?"
I didn't want to make a speech, because I'm selfish and I don't want to wish April all the happiness in the world if that happiness is not with me. Because I'm angry at her for being so happy with someone else, and I'm angry at myself for not realizing I loved her earlier. Because if I have to toast my best friend and say nice things about her, I'm pretty sure I'll end up confessing my undying love to her, and I don't think Mr. and Mrs. Kepner, or Matthew, or anyone would be happy with that. Because if I see her squeeze Matthew's arm one more time and smile at him, I'm going to lose it, and it's not going to be pretty. Because I'm an Avery, and I've never felt so helpless before.
"Yeah, that's why."
"I thought the bride was the only one allowed to freak out before the wedding."
He turns around at the sound of her voice. Almost everybody is seated inside the barn where the ceremony is going to take place, and he'd thought that him taking a breather before the big moment would go unnoticed. His breath catches in his throat when he takes everything in, her dress, her pink lips, the braid of red hair framing her face, her eyes shining. She looks absolutely perfect. If he believed in soulmates, he would easily think she's his, and for the first time, he thinks that seeing her getting married to someone else is actually going to kill him.
"Averys don't freak out."
"Kepners do. Or at least used to."
He raises an eyebrow, wanting her to keep going, but her father calls after them, saying Jackson better get to his assigned position before the bride makes her grand entrance. She squeezes his hand and he turns around to go back to the barn, resisting the urge to say goodbye and flee.
The next steps go according to plan. He takes his place next to Arizona at the front of the barn, the organ starts playing the wedding march, the guests all stand up and April walks along the aisle, a vision in white, clutching her father's arm and smiling left and right, gaze unable to focus. Just before she joins Matthew, she steals a glance towards him, and her eyes are a storm of emotions.
Jackson doesn't really hear the minister start the ceremony. He's too busy trying to analyze the tightening in his chest, his mind replaying the moment he had with April just a few minutes ago, and the day before, and all the moments they had ever since they met at Mercy West in their weird orange scrubs.
I’m April Kepner, I’m from Ohio and I'm super excited to be near the ocean, although I don’t really know how I feel about the rain yet.
Jackson. It's okay, it's just a nightmare.
Well, April is the only friend I have left here.
We will be fine.
Will you be my maid of honor?
Can I ask you something? It's, uhm, very personal.
You're a grumpus, you know that?
We would so crush this.
Jackson, look at me.
He feels Arizona nudge him, drawing him out of his daydream, and he sees her mouth "Are you okay?", but nothing doesn't really register, except for one thing. It's now or never.
So many people are going to kill him.
He takes a few steps down from where the bridal party is positioned and finds himself standing in front of April and Matthew, who turn around, confused about his interruption.
You're not a coward. You're an idiot.
He takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side. Here goes nothing.
"I love you, April. I always have. I love everything about you."