Chapter Text
In the end they settle on walking down the aisle accompanied by their mothers.
Fortunately, the church they have chosen could have been specifically designed for this purpose with two side aisles as well as the central one. It is decided that Nick and Sarah will come in from the right and Charlie and Jane from the left, meeting in front of the vicar for the ceremony to begin.
That Sarah will escort Nick, is a given, he is hardly going to ask his dad and they have already dispensed with the idea of ‘best persons’. When Jane hears of Nick’s decision she says, over brightly, to her eldest son.
“I suppose you will ask Tori.”
Charlie, who had been intending to do just that, takes a deep breath and replies,
“Only if you don’t want to do it.”
It is worth the sacrifice for the look on his mother’s face. He knows she tries; she tries so hard and still messes it up most of the time. He can afford to be generous on this his special day.
Tori is sanguine, she has no truck with marriage.
“I don’t understand why you are going through with this spectacle in the first place. Why you wish to conform to the heteronormative dictats of society, by taking part in a specious and irrational ritual in order to pander to the patriarchy.”
Charlie looks at his sister and smiles.
“Because we love each other, because we can, because generations have fought for same sex couples to have the right to, because for centuries men and women have used a ceremony to legitimise and validate their union — until recently almost always in church — and we deserve the same, that's why…”
“So, you’re using your nuptials to make a political statement… Well done.”
Charlie doesn’t inform his sister that he has had similar conversations with his intended. Nick protests,
“But neither of us are vaguely religious, Char. Couldn’t we have a venue wedding, a castle… or…” Charlie can almost see a light go on behind Nick’s eyes, “…Twickenham?”
Charlie can’t explain why the idea of getting married in church is so important, and he uses the political statement reason to quieten Nick. But somehow, it is more than making a point. It is the idea of the eternal, to say the words to Nick, that for hundreds of years have been used to bind one person to another, body, mind, and soul, and to hear Nick repeat those vows back to him. For him and Nick to stake their place in the endless flowing stream of human life and love.
Nick because he adores Charlie and wants only for his happiness, acquiesces, and the church is duly booked. That is the easy part, the trappings associated with weddings are more difficult to determine. Flowers? No flowers? Page boys? No page boys? Bridesmaids? Without a bride? Hymns?
“No Nick, we are not singing ‘swing low, sweet chariot’ at my wedding.”
In the end they chose Morning has Broken, which they both remember from school. The vicar, on discovering Charlie is a classicist, suggests the choir sing Ubi Charitas et Amour while they sign the register, and that they depart to Swing Low, because in the end Charlie adores Nick and wants only for his happiness.
The last remaining significant task is the suits — not matching, Nick, I want to be a statement not a parody — and there's the hundred and ten other smaller things to think of before the big day, too. Had he known how much effort and planning was required Charlie would have — no, he still would have wanted that church wedding.
Despite their various reservations, and a few brief but stressful moments, Groomzilla? Nick? Is that a thing? The actual wedding is perfect and so worth all the effort they put into planning it
The sun shines, Nick’s shoes don’t squeak, Charlie doesn’t skid on the polished floor. They are both so nervous they have to be reminded to look at each other when they reach the front. Charlie’s eyes are suspiciously bright while Nick is a blubbering mess. The vicar makes two jokes, one of which is funny. The grooms manage their vows without incident, both mothers and one father cry. The vicar says to Nick and Charlie, in a stage whisper, you are allowed to kiss. The register is signed, they return to the front in preparation to walk back down the central aisle as husbands.
Nick holds out his hand to take Charlie’s in his.
******
“You can hold his hand if you like.” The nurse addresses Nick softly but unnecessarily, as if not wanting to disturb a sleeping patient rather than an unconscious one.
“What?”
“You can hold your boyfriend’s hand; he may not respond but he may register the touch.”
Nick blushes, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Nick repeats, “I used to sit next to him in form, when we were at school… that’s all.”