Work Text:
when i’m sixty-four
will you still need me, will you still feed me
when I'm sixty-four
you'll be older too
and if you say the word
i could stay with you
– when I'm sixty four, the beatles
It snows on their wedding day.
Japan is in a frenzy. Meteorologists across the country trying to justify how the snow has appeared on the 1st of August. National security officials on television trying to assure the public there is no threat, that everything is under control. Citizens everywhere grumble, as snowflakes fall softly onto the pavement, lofting down from clear blue skies.
Yamato is deliriously happy.
——-
June 2007
The first time Taichi proposes they are 19, in Canada on holiday, and attending Toronto’s infamous Pride celebrations. The music is deafening and the crowd is a continuous roar in Yamato’s ear. The costumes are even louder, and everyone is gloriously, unashamedly, incredibly, themselves.
Yamato smiles into Taichi’s kiss; the colours of the floats passing them blurring in his peripheral as Taichi spins him, dipping him far back, and then snapping him back up to the amusement of everyone around them. There’s hoots and whistles and calls of: you go, hunny.
Taichi grins at him. At some point his face has been smudged with glitter and there’s pink feathers caught in the wild mess of his hair. Yamato plucks one out and places it behind his own ear.
Later, the two of them are at a club and surrounded by new friends, who ply them with tequila shots. The atmosphere is vibrant and dizzying, even without the alcohol, but Yamato sips his martini in between shots and dances with everyone, returning to Taichi every few songs, who runs his hands over Yamato’s body and half-shouts dirty things into Yamato’s ear. Yamato blushes and laughs and pushes Taichi’s sweaty body away, but doesn’t resist running his hand over chiseled abs, because Taichi’s lost his shirt somewhere today and it’s been replaced by only rainbow coloured suspenders. It sends a small thrill through Yamato each time he uses the suspenders to pull Taichi back to him, claiming his lips again and again and again.
“Merde,” the French drag queen, with whom Yamato’s currently dancing, shouts into his ear. Taichi’s returned to him once again, brushing his lips against Yamato’s cheek and shoving a drink into his hands. “Your boy— il est très très sexy.”
Yamato laughs and sips the drink that has been handed to him. Taichi moves behind him, hands grabbing at his waist to pull Yamato closer against him.
“I know!” Yamato shouts back, in English, before tipping his head over his shoulder and meeting Taichi’s eyes, which shine in the dancing lights of the club, rich with mirth, even if glazed over. Taichi tips his head down and their mouths meet again and again and again.
The queen lets out a whistle, two fingers in her mouth. Taichi lifts his head and laughs and then he’s reaching out for the queen’s hand, fingers twisting around the giant ring that graces one of those fingers.
“Can I borrow this?” Taichi shouts.
“Darling you can have it,” the queen replies, slipping the diamond off her hand and laying it in Taichi’s palm.
Taichi spins Yamato, less gracefully than earlier, and then when Yamato’s facing him again he drops to one knee in the middle of the club, rum and coke in one hand and ring in the other.
“Marry me!” Taichi yells, holding the ring up. Around them, confetti falls like snowflakes.
Yamato laughs and tries to coax Taichi to his feet, his cheeks heating as the people around them turn and cheer, the shouts loud, even over the booming music.
Taichi shakes the ring in Yamato’s face. “Marry me, you bastard.”
“Fine, connard,” Yamato shouts back and Taichi stands, grinning, and slips the ring onto Yamato’s finger. Taichi kisses him madly.
They dance until the sun starts to come up, stumbling back to their hotel room covered in sweat and booze and glitter, Taichi’s shirt still no where to be found and Yamato’s finger glints in the early light.
“Fiancé,” Taichi slurs, falling against Yamato and pressing him up against the hotel room door. He butchers the accent, but Yamato laughs under his breath. He swipes their key card, shushes his boyfriend and pulls Taichi’s drunken ass into their room by his suspenders.
Yamato leads him to the bed, where Taichi collapses and is asleep on top of the covers in seconds. Yamato brushes Taichi’s hair back and kisses his forehead gently before making a few unsteady steps towards the bathroom.
There, he stares at himself in the mirror, glossy eyed, but beaming. Once artfully done coloured eyeliner is now smeared, converging with rainbow paint that graces his cheek. His neck is littered with love bites, his hair has green in it, from somewhere, and there’s white confetti stuck in his bangs. Yamato brushes the confetti away and splashes water on his face. He scrubs to remove the worst of the make-up, which causes him to catch sight of the diamond on his ring finger.
He smiles as he looks at it, then slowly slides what he recognizes is costume jewellery from his finger, knowing Taichi likely won’t even remember his insane proposal in the morning. He tucks it in the bottom of his toiletry bag for safe-keeping. Oddly, even though it’s only been there for a few hours, his finger already feels empty.
But it’s too early for this right now. They’re too young. Their country isn’t like this one. They’re not even out to Taichi’s parents. This isn’t the time: not yet, not now, but maybe someday.
——-
wedding day
When they were introduced to their officiant, the woman asked how the two of them had met.
“Summer camp,” Taichi had said, deadpan, and Yamato had to bury his face in Taichi’s shoulder to keep from laughing.
“You’ve been together for a long time then,” the officiant said, smiling, as she jotted down Taichi’s response in her black spiral notebook.
“Nineteen-ish years, give or take,” Taichi replies and Yamato pinches his side.
“Over twenty years,” Yamato corrects.
The officiant’s eyes crinkle at the sides.
“We started dating in our last year of senior high school,” Yamato explains, “That’s two full decades ago.”
The officiant smiles and jots that down, even as Taichi lets out a protest. “That depends how you count—” he starts and Yamato jabs him in the side again, silencing Taichi with a look. Behind him, through the window, the December snow falls.
“Are you ready?”
The question jolts Yamato from his memory and back into the present. He takes a step back from the window, where he was watching snowflakes coat the August-kissed ground, and smiles at Takeru who has just entered the room.
“I can’t believe it’s snowing,” Yamato marvels.
Takeru returns his smile. “Feels like something somewhere knows.”
Yamato nods in agreement, then takes a step towards his brother pulling him into a hug. “Glad you’re here.”
“Ah, geez,” Takeru scoffs, pushing Yamato lightly on the shoulder. “Where else would I be?”
——-
December 2011
Christmas 2011 is their first in their shared apartment. They’ve spent Christmas together before, of course, but this one feels different. A different level of commitment— they’re out to all their friends, of course, but also both their families. Work is a different matter, but it feels like something they will build towards. However complicated, given that Taichi’s set to take up working for Japan’s foreign service in the New Year.
The apartment, therefore, is their sanctuary.
It’s on Christmas Eve, sprawled out on the floor of their apartment, wine glasses at their heads and remnants of their take-out food pushed to the side by Taichi’s foot when he reached for Yamato’s waist to pull him on top of him to kiss madly, that Yamato looks at Taichi and thinks, not for the first time, but perhaps the most clearly: gods willing, I will marry this man.
The costume jewelry from the Canadian drag queen is tucked in the bottom of Yamato’s guitar case, even after all these years. He could run and get it, make a second drunken proposal on their apartment floor.
“What?” Taichi says, brushing a finger across Yamato’s cheek. He grins, the dimple in his one cheek deepening.
Yamato shakes his head, lightly tugs at the collar of Taichi’s shirt to pull him back in for another kiss, slow and easy and perfect; the ring forgotten.
——-
wedding day
They’ve chosen to walk down the outdoor aisle together, towards the officiant. All their big moments together have taken place outdoors, and so is the ceremony, even with a bit of snow on the ground.
It’s even more perfect with a the snow on the ground.
Fittingly, their siblings escort them to each other, meeting at the door, just before stepping outside. As they reach each other, Hikari is already blotting away tears, but Yamato barely registers it: he just has eyes for Taichi.
“Wow,” Taichi murmurs, when they meet.“My man’s gorgeous.”
Yamato smiles widely and reaches out to unnecessarily straighten Taichi’s tie, the exact same as his own, even though their jackets are different tones. Taichi looks sharp too; the tailoring of the suit accents his broad shoulders and sets off his skin tone. Underneath, there’s a flash of rainbow, and Yamato smiles, know it’s the suspenders, hidden from view by the suit jacket.
“Likewise,” Yamato says, and then leans in so they can press their foreheads together and just breathe for a moment.
——-
August 2015
Taichi proposes for real on August 1st, 2015.
It’s summer and they’re camping under the stars, tucked into a sleeping bag that Taichi has constructed by zipping two of them together. They’ve forgone the tent, given that Japan’s experiencing some unseasonably warm weather. They almost didn’t come due to the heatwave scorching the country, but Taichi insisted—“extreme weather is sort of our thing”—and now Yamato knows why.
The stars are bright and Yamato’s content to sit under them, point out constellations to Taichi, who turns his equally bright smile on Yamato. Saturn is in the sky, directly after sunset, caught up in the constellation of Libra— Yamato traces the constellation with his finger and usually Taichi would be following along, humouring him.
He’s too quiet though, this time. Yamato pauses, pulling his gaze away from the stars to look at Taichi, who is staring at him.
“Yes?”
Taichi chuckles, a bit strained. “If you can focus on that word, that would be great.”
He suddenly pushes up into a seated position, sleeping bag bunching at his waist and pulling tight around Yamato’s torso. Yamato sits up too in order to relieve the pressure, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“Yama,” Taichi says, voice wavering slightly. “Yamato. You are the most important person in my life, and you have been for so long. As long as I can remember, really. You and me, our connection is inexplicable— indescribable.”
“Taichi…” Yamato says, starting to lean in to kiss him.
“Wait a second,” Taichi says, even as he raises one hand to cradle Yamato’s cheek gently. “It’s always been you. You. Just you,” he declares, “Nobody else compares. No one ever could. I love you so much. I’ve promised I will never let go of you, and I never will.”
Taichi removes his hand from Yamato’s cheek, the other one coming up from where it has been hidden under the sleeping bag. His hands shake as he opens a small box.
“Will you marry me?”
Yamato stares at the box, mouth dropping open slightly. Everything seems slow, despite his heart racing and his whole body tingling, tendrils of electricity running through him. It’s a new ring, real and shiny and not costume jewelry, glinting in the box, white gold with small almost indiscernible gems.
He also must be too quiet for too long, as Taichi’s voice is small when he adds, “Yamato? Can you say something please?— I mean, I know it isn’t legal, and maybe a ring is stupid if it’s not legal and therefore maybe not real, but it’s real to me, and I want to do something—”
Yamato cuts him off with a kiss. “Yes,” he breathes, “Yes. Of course—yes.”
Taichi lets out breath, hand not holding the ring case coming up to tangle in Yamato’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him madly before finally releasing him and scrambling to get the ring out of the box and slip it onto Yamato’s finger.
Yamato stares at it, smile so wide it hurts his face.
Everything’s perfect. This is perfect.
He finds out later, from Koushiro, that Taichi’s been carrying the ring around for almost two years, waiting for the right moment. Yamato laughs at this confession and Taichi blushes a deep scarlet.
“It was perfect, so perfect,” Yamato whispers, over and over again, reassuring, thinking of the engraving on the inside of his ring: both of their crests and the words won’t let go scrawled just for him.
——-
wedding day
The snow crunches under their feet as they approach the alter and Yamato can’t stop grinning. Every time he schools his expression back into something not-manic, he meets Taichi’s eyes again, who is beaming, and the smile makes its way back across his face.
When they make it to their officiant, she calls for everyone to be seated and begins the ceremony. Yamato listens, but the words get lost in the sense of wonder that comes over him as he stands there, hands grasps lightly in Taichi’s. He can’t believe they’re here. Finally. After everything, they’re standing here, renewing a commitment that has existed for decades, but will be finally made legal— real not only to their friends and family, but to society as a whole.
It sends chill up his spine. Taichi has been right all these years: they deserve this.
“Yamato?” Taichi whispers, squeezing his hands.
He blinks. “Hmm?”
The rows of their family and friends all chuckle.
“Vows,” Taichi prods, eyes crinkling the sides, amused. “You’re first.”
“Oh. Right,” Yamato says and he’s sure he’s blushing. Behind him, from his place as Yamato’s best man, Takeru snorts. Behind Taichi, Koushiro is shaking his head, eyes lifted to the sky looking for patience.
Yamato lets go of Taichi’s hands and reaches into his jacket pocket.
——-
June 2019
New York is alive with the sounds of joy and coloured with the rainbow. Millions of people have gathered to experience WorldPride NYC, in what officials have been calling the largest LGBTQ+ event in history. The parade is going on its seventh hour, with no end in sight. Yamato feels like they’ve been celebrating—and commemorating—for days.
Some of the events Taichi’s been at in an official capacity, representing queer-Chosen from around the world—and Yamato’s so, so proud—but today is just for them, just for fun, and Taichi’s marked that by trading in the suit with the rainbow pocket square for shorts, the tightest t-shirt Yamato could find, and the same rainbow suspenders from Pride so many years ago.
Somewhere along the line, he’s found himself a rainbow top-hat, which makes the whole outfit look ridiculous, but Yamato loves him for it.
“He yours?” yells a fit man in rainbow swim trunks and nothing else. He points at Taichi, who is deep in some sort of conversation with a lesbian in a t-shirt that reads Rosemon hearts BDSM, complete with the digimon with her whip.
“Yes!” Yamato shouts back, raising his hand to show off his ring, his regular-band is at the base of his finger, but it’s topped today with the his fake diamond-ring, a story that Taichi knows about now a days.
A few steps away, aware as always of Yamato, Taichi looks up and he too raises his hand to show off his matching band. The man gives Taichi a last disappointed smile and walks away.
Chasms of jealously left behind long ago, Yamato just shakes his head as he walks over to Taichi and the girl. He raises his cellphone in a wordless question. The girl nods her consent and Taichi wraps an arm around her, both smile and throw a peace sign at the camera.
Yamato snaps the photo, instantly firing off a text to Mimi with the photo attached. Miss you. Hope you’re behaving, he writes, with a winking emoji.
Taichi slings his arm around Yamato’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then musing: “What is it about Pride? Can’t keep the boys away from me here.”
Yamato gives him a slow once over. “It’s the dumb outfits and the goofy smile,” he says, affectionately.
Taichi laughs, hands dropping lower to grope Yamato’s ass. In front of everyone. No shame. Yamato kisses him, hands tugging at the available strands of his hair, dislodging the dumb top hat in the process.
A screech draws his attention away from Taichi’s lips, and he looks over to see a twenty-something year old blonde girl with her hands clasped to her mouth, as her leather-clad girlfriend holds a ring up to her. She yells, flinging herself at the woman on the ground. The crowd applauds, cheers booming in their heads.
“We could do that too,” Yamato proposes, suddenly.
Taichi makes a questioning noise from behind him and waves his ring in Yamato’s face. Yamato pushes his hand away and turns to face him.
“Get married, I mean,” Yamato explains. “It’s legal here. We’re both working—we’d be allowed.”
“It wouldn’t be recognized at home,” Taichi says, slowly.
“So?” Yamato protests. He slips his fake-diamond off his finger and holds it up to Taichi with his right hand. “It would be recognized here. Real and legal here. Marry me? Be my American husband.”
Taichi purses his lips, shakes his head. “I don’t want to do it that way.”
“Why not?”
“Without our friends and family… Knowing it won’t change anything when we get home,” Taichi grabs his left hand, presses their fingers together so they can feel each other’s real rings. “This is enough for me. For now. When there’s real legal avenues in Japan, then we’ll do it.”
Yamato frowns, slips the fake diamond into his pocket. “We could be waiting our entire lives… Are you sure? That day might never come.”
“That’s what I want, baby. It’ll come. It’s what we deserve.”
——-
wedding day
“You’ve always been the certain one,” Yamato says, “Our entire lives, there’s always been a sliver of doubt in me. I wasn’t sure this day would ever come, but you were. I wasn’t sure that you and I could survive everything we’ve been through, but you were. You’ve always been brave, and strong, and so certain of everything—but most importantly of us.”
His voice breaks slightly, but Taichi squeezes his hand, certain ever-so, and Yamato presses on: “You’ve believed in us, and it’s made me remember to believe in us. To know, that you’ve always been meant for me: destined for me. Ever since we were eleven and it was snowing in August, just like this,” he laughs, strength renewed.
Taichi chuckles, smiles at him.
“We’re exist on the same frequency. Our energies are compatible. Our hearts beat the same. Our souls are linked; have been for longer than twenty years,” he says, pointedly. Taichi’s dimple deepens. “Because we’ve been partners longer than that. There’s always been a part of me that has known we’re destined to belong to each other.”
Yamato looks at Taichi, meets those brown eyes and smiles. Taichi always makes him feel grounded, like he’s home.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will never let you go,” Yamato promises.
——-
August 2020
The pandemic closes the world down. Thankfully, they’re back in Japan when the world’s borders close, nearby their families in case of emergencies and, of course, with each other.
Perhaps best of all: the Digital World doesn’t close.
Of course, there’s regulations—Taichi, Koushiro and their international colleagues make sure of it. But being an original Chosen— not to mention partnered with the Chosen-in-Charge, despite Taichi’s arguments to the contrary—has its perks. Visits to the Digital World, being one of them.
They’ve only both had their partners back a few short years. Their visits are needed.
It’s during one of those visits, as Yamato laments about how unfortunate it is that Miyako’s wedding needed to be postponed because of the virus, that Agumon asks an innocent question that sets Taichi off.
“Poor Miyako,” Gabumon murmurs, even though Yamato knows he doesn’t fully comprehend.
“At least she can get married,” Taichi grumbles, spinning a soccer ball on a finger.
“‘Chi,” Yamato sighs, running a finger over Gabumon’s fur. “We are essentially married.”
“Essentially is doing a lot of work in that sentence, Yama,” Taichi mutters.
Yamato sighs, reaching up to stop the ball mid-spin and places it on the ground before them. He plunges forward, saying the next line in their well rehearsed argument about marriage equality: “Are you saying that you need a piece of paper to know that what we have is real?”
Taichi scoffs. “No,” he retorts, his next line in the argument. He shoots Yamato a dirty look. “Of course not.”
“Then we don’t need the government to get their heads out of their assess to know that we’re married,” Yamato says, on auto-pilot.
“Why don’t you just get married here? Digimon don’t care. And we’d probably love a wedding,” Agumon asks, guileless.
Taichi doesn’t often argue with his digimon partner, especially post the loss of them. But his eyes flash angrily at the innocent comment and he grits his teeth before snapping: “It’s the principle of the matter! I want to marry Yamato—for real. The same way everyone else gets to. Like Miyako can.” Taichi’s voice is taut with indignation, because he’ll always be a hero, looking for justice for everyone. “The fact that it’s not legal for us is an outrage—it’s discriminatory and wrong and should be unconstitutional. I want the world to know and fucking recognize that you’re mine and I’m yours—but the world is just rampant with homophobes and the traditional family fucks—”
Yamato places a hand on Taichi’s arm to stop him, as Agumon’s face crumbles. “‘Chi…”
“Fuck,” Taichi says, getting to his feet and running his hands over his face. “Sorry, Agumon…” He kicks the soccer ball hard, sending it flying and the stalks off, angry.
“I’m sorry…” Agumon says, eyes wide. He wrings his dinosaur-claws in front of him. “I thought it would be nice.”
“It would be nice, Agumon,” Yamato says, patting the dinosaur-digimon’s claw reassuringly. In the distance, Yamato sees Taichi kick aimlessly at a piece of dirt, his fists clenched at his sides in frustration. His partner’s not used to being powerless, and it drives Taichi crazy. “It’s not you he’s mad at. Not you at all.”
——-
wedding day
“This is what I’ve always wanted for us,” Taichi begins and Yamato squeezes his hands, nods in agreement. “This is what we have always deserved: to stand up in front of all of our people and for me to get to say, I love you Ishida Yamato. I’ve loved for you what feels like multiple lifetimes, and I’ll love you forever—till we’re both old and grey, or at least I will be, you’ll probably just be a smokin’ hot silver fox for as long as we both live.”
Their friends and family laugh, Mimi’s lofting out high above them all. Yamato spares a glance at them, looking out at them all, every single one radiating joy and love and Yamato knows he wouldn’t have had this any other way.
“I’ve always known we were meant to be together—you’re a piece of work, but you’re my piece of work,” Taichi continues, “I accept you, I love every single thing that makes you who you are. From now until the end of time. In every universe, in every dimension, in very timeline, in every world.”
Taichi pauses, looks Yamato deeply in the eyes and it feels like the first time again. Snowflakes fall onto Taichi’s suit jacket, melting instantly from the heat he gives off; Yamato’s own personal sun.
“I love you. It’s always been you, no one else compares. No one else ever could. I, too, will never let you go.”
——-
October 2022
When Tokyo announces that the government will begin issuing partnership certificates, Taichi is adamant they apply.
“We’ve been together sixteen years,” Taichi argues across the dinner table, the day the government portal opens for applications.
“Seventeen,” Yamato corrects, habitually, as he stirs his noodles, even though he knows Taichi’s not really listening to him. He’s in full-rant mode, willing into existence what he deems is just and fair.
“We deserve this. We deserved this for far too long. We deserve more than this. It’s insane that it has taken the government to do this long to do the bare minimum we deserve—maybe we could have just gotten married in the US when we lived there—”
“Maybe,” Yamato says, chewing. This is a common thread in Taichi’s rant. But they’ve also both know it wouldn’t be the same if they got married somewhere else, if it wasn’t recognized here. At home. It’s why Taichi didn’t want that in the first place.
“But with this change, now more than 60% of Japan’s population is covered by these protections— we deserve to be part of that,” Taichi continues, quoting the stats his advocate friends and the local media have been spouting off since the announcement.
Yamato eyes Taichi’s plate, which is uncharacteristically barely touched, boiled egg still floating on top of the broth. Yamato reaches out with his chopsticks and snags it, munching on it as Taichi barrels on.
“Sure, it’s not quite marriage equality and it falls short of full marriage rights, but it’s something, isn’t it? Hospital visits without needing to fucking justify ourselves— ensuring that the other can stay in this damn apartment if, gods forbid, something happened to one of us.”
Yamato’s stomach tightens a bit at that and he stirs his noodles again, willing it to settle. He can’t imagine such a future, where they’re not old and grey together.
“That was my egg,” Taichi says suddenly, frowning, but he doesn’t pick up his chopsticks and continues with his soliloquy: “But this is a step in the right direction. That’s what Kanae is saying— another step in the right direction, building on overwhelming popular support for marriage equality. Our government is just backwards— not only on this, but this in particular.”
“Mhmm,” Yamato murmurs.
“I mean, come on— we’re the only G7 country who still hasn’t passed marriage equality!"
Taichi’s waving his hands about as he spouts statistics and rants about the backwardness of the National Diet, the ring on his left hand glinting in the light. Yamato glances down at his own ring, the band has wrapped around his finger for the last seven years as representation of what they are to each other. What they’ve always been to each other.
Yamato slides the ring off, twirling it between his fingers to stare at the inside of the band. Won’t let go it reads in cursive a top of etchings of their crests.
“Okay,” Yamato says, interrupting Taichi’s impassioned speech.
Taichi’s mouth falls shut mid-sentence and he quirks an eyebrow. Yamato slips his ring back on his finger and stands up, making his way over to Taichi’s chair. Taichi slides his chair back, legs screeching across the floor as he makes room for Yamato on his lap.
Yamato takes Taichi’s jaw in his hands, tipping his chin up so he can plant a chaste kiss on Taichi’s lips.
“Okay. Let’s do it. We’ll apply tomorrow,” Yamato agrees, “It’s the least we deserve. After everything.”
——-
wedding day
They use the same rings.
Yamato’s worn his for so long that he can’t bear to replace it. He loves his ring, it’s a symbol of them. But they exchange them again, slipping them onto each other’s fingers as they say the vows of love, respect and fidelity. Things they’ve promised each other a thousand times, renewed today in front of their friends and family.
They seal it with a kiss.
It tastes like forever.
——-
April 2023
Tokyo Rainbow Pride returns to the Shibuya and Harajuku districts, for the first time post-pandemic. In the lead-up, Taichi is a blur in their apartment, constantly running back and forth between his actual job and the advocate offices, where he, along countless others, are working to drive momentum— Press on Till Japan Changes, is the slogan.
Yamato helps where he can, but most of his involvement ends with him crawling into Taichi’s lap, putting his hands on either side of Taichi’s face, kissing his man with the hero-complex deeply, and then saying: “Taichi, I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me how I feel about you.”
“This isn’t just about us,” Taichi replies, indignant already.
“I know,” Yamato says, pushing Taichi’s hair back and smoothing a thumb over a crease in Taichi’s cheek. He always looks older in the lead-up to Pride, the worry lines more apparent. “I know you want to fix things for everyone.”
“I do,” the hero replies.
“And you and everyone else will.”
“It’s coming Yamato, I can feel it,” Taichi insists. “I’m going to marry you, officially.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Yamato says, kissing Taichi softly. “I’m going to marry you, too.”
Rainbow Pride is bright and colourful, and a resounding success. Taichi is beautiful in his rainbow suspenders and Yamato’s fake-diamond shines brightly in the afternoon sun. They march and they dance and they rave and they celebrate and Yamato’s enthusiasm and hope builds throughout the weekends festivities. It’s coming. Yamato knows it: Taichi always wills what he wants into existence.
——-
wedding day
“Congratulations!” squeals Mimi, gathering them in her arms.
Yamato feels more arms come to embrace them, until he’s quite sure that all ten other Chosen are surrounding them; one giant group hug. They stand like that for several minutes, everyone murmuring congratulations and about time and finally and this was beautiful and you deserve this.
Tears start to form in Yamato’s eyes, and when the hug lets up, he can see a shine reflected in Taichi’s too.
Sora grabs his shoulder, spinning him so she can hug him more intimately. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, “You both have deserved this for so long.”
——-
undetermined time, pre wedding
When the Japan finally passes marriage equality, the joy in their community is palpable.
Happiness. Wonder. A sense of relief, even though deep-down Yamato knows there’s still work to be done.
Taichi cries. When Yamato reaches for him, there’s tears in his eyes and Yamato kisses away the wetness from his cheeks. They hug for ages.
Later, back in their bedroom, Yamato takes something from his guitar case and holds it up to Taichi, as he lowers himself on Taichi’s lap and loops one arm around his neck.
“Marry me?” Yamato whispers, holding the fake-diamond up in the dim light. Their fourth proposal.
“A thousand times, yes,” Taichi whispers back.
——-
wedding day
They dance slowly, swaying with each other, Yamato’s head tucked onto Taichi’s shoulder.
“You were right,” Yamato says softly.
Taichi chuckles. “Say that again?”
Yamato lifts his head, looks into Taichi’s eyes which glint with amusement. “You were right,” he repeats. “This is what I wanted. What we deserved.”
Taichi wiggles his eyebrows, smirking.
“Don’t get too smug,” Yamato warns, tucking his head back down on Taichi’s shoulder, as they continue swaying next to all their friends and family, on the dance floor, snow still falling around them. “I can divorce you now.”
Taichi laughs, deep and rich, and Yamato is deliriously happy.
——-
June 2052
“How long have you two been together?” a young man asks, his arms draped around his boyfriend’s shoulders. The sounds of the Rainbow Pride parade can be heard in the distance, but it’s slightly quieter in the park.
Yamato laughs, runs his fingers though Taichi’s hair, somehow still thick and unmanageable, even with all the white in it now. Siver-fox in his own right. Yamato carefully extracts his fingers, ensuring the fake-diamond on his left hand, stacked above his wedding band, doesn’t get stuck.
“Forty-five years?” Taichi guesses, and the young man’s eyes widen. He turns to Yamato, eyes crinkling. “Married for almost just as long.”
“Forty-seven years,” Yamato corrects, pulling on a strap of the rainbow suspenders so it smacks against Taichi’s chest. He smiles though.
“Old married couple for sure,” the man’s boyfriend teases He tips his head back to look at his partner and smiles. “We going to be like this?”
“If you’re really lucky,” Yamato says, gazing at Taichi and feeling warm and joyful and loved. “Maybe it can be forever.”
Deliriously, deliriously happy.