Chapter Text
Zahra paces the cold tile floor, barefoot — having yanked her heels off after the mixture of them clicking on the tile and the blister they were creating became too much — reading through her overstuffed wedding portfolio as she waits. Finally the door opens and out steps Alex.
Her first instinct is to stiffen her lips so the smile she can feel forcing its way onto her face looks subtle and not like she might start tearing up any minute. At first glance the tux looks flawless. It fits perfectly; isn’t too tight, nor too loose. It’s been sent in three times to be tailored and as long as it took the little asshole to get it on Zahra was anticipating a fourth trip down to Men’s Warehouse where they would be getting quite the earful.
Her second instinct — which comes on very suddenly as she watches Alex try to smooth out wrinkles on a tux that is basically brand new, has only been worn the handful of times he has tried it on for adjustments, and was completely wrinkle free when she handed it to him fifteen minutes earlier — would land her in a jail cell for 20 to life if acted out. Luckily for Alex, she took a Valium (a medication she can’t legally, but personally can and will blame on him for needing) before this appointment and had a decent grip on her temper.
She opens her mouth to ask why his tux was wrinkled. Knowing he will likely only lie, she doesn’t say anything. Her mouth puckers into her signature annoyed pout, and she narrows her eyes on Alex, who is at this point looking very guilty of… something she probably doesn’t want to know the full details of. All she can think is: Oh god why did I let them go in the same room to get dressed.
“Zahra, it-”
“I swear to god Alex if you say it’s all chill I will suture your lips shut and they will stay that way until it’s time for you to say ‘I Do’!”
“Oh, I-” Alex blinks a few times, looking ever more flustered. “I wasn’t going to- I was just gonna say it fits really well now.” Then he gives his best — press worthy — smile.
“Mhmm,” Zahra hums, eyes still sharp and slicing into Alex like knives. “What about Henry’s?”
Alex looks at her like a deer in the headlights. “Uh- he’s…” Alex glances back into the room, shifting his body to block the opening when Zahra leans to look in as well. “He’s still putting it on.”
“ Still put - Alex, it’s been-”
And there’s Henrex. The migraine that has shown up so many times in the past year Zahra has named it.
Suddenly Henry scrabbles out of the room. He stands beside Alex and somehow by the grace of god his tux looks perfect. Zahra supposes if there’s one thing to appreciate about royals, it’s how they strive to keep up appearances. His hair isn’t styled like she’s used to seeing it but it’s still laying nicely and not a mess with locks sticking out here and there like Alex’s. His skin’s not flushed and covered with a thin — but just enough to notice — sheen of sweat.
His lips do appear to be a bit puffy… and pinker than usual, though. She closes her eyes and tries to will Henrex away.
“Does the tux fit ok, Henry?” She asks through a clenched jaw.
“Like a glove.”
“Yeah it does,” Alex says without missing a beat. Henry stares at him. Zahra glares at him.
Henrex rages on.
— — —
It was Alex’s idea to wear cowboy boots. Henry absolutely swoons watching Alex get passionate about anything, so he was easily convinced that — since they were getting married in Texas — cowboy boots would be the only appropriate footwear.
What they didn’t count on was custom made cowboy boots taking so damn long to arrive.
Zahra is sitting at her desk with a mountain of paperwork on one side, and a mountain of shoe boxes on the other. In front of her is her iPad with the 5 best (and quickest) ways to break in cowboy boots. She pulls her own pair out of the box and slips them on. They are way too tight, which is what the article said would be the case. She works through each step, doing all the things that will supposedly make the break in process easier.
Eighty to one hundred hours.
That’s how long it can take to fully break in new boots. So — and mainly because she knows she will be on her feet the majority of the wedding and would rather them be fully broken in asap — she makes the (unfortunate) executive decision to bite the bullet and wear them to work for a week.
Shaan watches her slip the boots on the first morning. Everyone’s pair is black leather with an embroidered yellow Texas rose on the side. To match, Zahra is wearing a tight fitting yellow dress. She checks herself in the mirror; not bad , she thinks. Shaan, on the other hand, is looking at her like she’s the sun and he has been trapped in the shadows his whole life.
By noon she understands why they say they need to be broken in. Her feet hurt so bad she could cry, and it’s making her miss her blister making little black pumps.
By the end of the week they have broken in but are still way too tight. And this is when she realizes she has Nora’s boots.
She suffers through the day, then stops by Nora’s office on her way home. The glass office is closed off with curtains and Zahra wonders if she’s working on some secret project.
After three knocks and hearing Nora scramble around inside the room, the door cracks open. “Oh, hey Z !” She says, peeking through the opening.
“Hey kiddo, I think I got our boots mixed up!” Zahra laughs, holding hers out towards the door.
“Oh.” Nora looks at the boots, at Zhara, the boots… then down at her own feet, where she also has the wedding shoes on. “Hah, I thought these fit a little too big.” Zahra waits as she struggles to keep the door only cracked with one hand and slip the boots off with the other, and that’s when she notices the state Nora is in is quite… disheveled.
Zahra blinks. She opens her mouth to say… something . “So,” is what comes out. “Did you get your dress back?”
“Yep.” One boot comes off, and she doesn’t have on socks, stockings, footed tights, or anything; just bare feet.
“Uh- do- do you need any more adjustments?”
“Nope!” Nora smiles up at her, while she tugs off the second boot.
“How about Percy’s suit?”
“Fits like a glove, love,” comes a voice, Percy’s voice, from somewhere in the room.
“Yeah it does,” Nora says, smirking back behind her. She gets the boot off and sits them at Zahra’s feet, grabs her actual pair, says goodbye and shuts the door.
Zahra blinks, her mouth hanging open in confused shock. Well now the curtains and Nora’s unkemptness makes sense…
She can feel a migraine brewing.
Perhaps she’ll call this one Pera… Norcy? She has four more weeks to think up something.