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For the first time in a long time, Grant Wilson woke up naturally from a dreamless sleep. The sensation was ethereal- the room was still dark, with no sunlight peaking through the curtains. The air sifted around him slowly.
Beside him, Marco was in a deep sleep, laying on his back, one hand on his chest. His breathing was slow and even. Grant rolled onto his side to admire him. Today was a big day. Today they were going to finally tie the knot.
Marco had proposed to him over a year ago- a year, two months, and ten days to be exact. Not like Grant was counting down to this day. The question had startled him, even though they had been discussing it for weeks before Marco officially asked. He still wondered if he should’ve said yes. And his window to call it off was closing.
Marco stirred, mumbling something in his sleep. The hand on his chest flexed, and his eyebrows came together, knitting concern on that peaceful face. Grant wanted to reach out and ease his discomfort, but hesitated, afraid he might wake him. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet.
The clock beside him glowed with bright green numbering that declared it was five thirty. Their alarm would be going off in half an hour then the day would start rolling forward. First, they would eat breakfast at the hotel buffet, then head to the wedding venue. He would meet his parents there and change into his suit for the ceremony. Carol had helped him pick it out. She had cried when he stepped out of the fitting room for the first time. It wasn’t anything fancy- a simple black jacket over a baby blue dress shirt with tailored black slacks. The fabric was rich and wearing it made him uncomfortable, but he knew Marco would appreciate it.
All this for Marco.
Whatever dream event that had been causing him distress seemed to have passed, as Marco’s face was back to a rested, placid expression. Grant found himself scooting closer to him, hesitating at first, but finally placing a hand over Marco’s hand. The sensation caused him to stir, blinking open heavy-lidded eyes. He looked around confused for a moment, but upon locking eyes with Grant, his face broke into a soft smile.
“Hi, honey,” he murmured, turning his hand so he could hold Grant’s. Grant rubbed his thumb across Marco’s palm.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Grant kissed his cheek.
Marco suddenly tensed. “Are we- Are we late?” He began to rise, but Grant pressed on his chest.
“No, no. We have time,” Grant reassured him and himself. Time…
In the peaceful morning air, he almost wondered why have any reservations at all. If every moment could be as perfect as this- what was there ever to be afraid of? But darkness crept in, eating at the edges of his being. He pulled his hand away.
“Mmmrph,” Marco huffed, trying to chase Grant’s hand with his own, but he wasn’t fast enough. Grant put it by his side, tucking it under the blanket where it couldn’t so easily be found. “Where are you going?” Marco asked, his voice less laden with sleep.
Grant’s voice caught in his throat behind the lump that materialized every time he considered calling it off. Your time is running out. Pull off the band-aid now before it’s too late.
“Just thought I could start getting ready,” he lied.
Marco rolled onto his side, quickly wrapping himself around Grant before Grant had the chance to pull away. “No, you’re not,” he said, “You said we have time.”
Grant looked down at Marco who was pouting up at him. He cracked under that gaze, relenting. Against himself, he smiled. “Alright,” he said, pulling his hand back out to comb through Marco’s hair- messy like it always was in the mornings.
Marco found his lips and kissed him. The gesture was sweet and soft. When he pulled away, Grant felt himself twist inside, missing that warmth against him. “We have time,” he heard himself saying before he leaned back into the kiss.
Here he felt safe. He felt the love wash over him, soak into him. Marco’s hand was on his side, following the curves of his waist and hips, finding his waist band and stopping to squeeze his muffin top. Grant played with his partner’s hair, letting the curls wave around his fingers. He was aware of the warmth of their bodies against the hotel sheets, of Marco pressed up against him. Marco moved his hand up to Grant’s shoulder, pushing it, guiding Grant so he laid on his back. Without breaking their kiss, Marco climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
The position was so familiar, the ritual familiar. On the weekends or days when they were off work they would start slow like this, usually under the misty morning light. Cradling each other’s bodies. Entranced with a kiss.
They had been together for several years at this point. Grant struggled to remember what life was like before him. Waking up alone, with no peace to be found in bed. He rarely woke to alarms, usually shaken awake by a nightmare. He never dwelled in bed either, instead moving quickly to start the day and escape the demons that lay there, even though they followed him everywhere.
He could still recall that first night with Marco. The evening had been intimate, but the morning peaceful. The prior day they had eagerly explored each other’s bodies, but that morning things were slow. They had talked mostly, about their lives, about anything. All the while, Grant had watched his partner, soaking him in. Hoping the moment would never end.
And here they were again.
Marco broke from their kiss to grace his lips against Grant’s cheek. “My husband…” he hummed.
“Not yet,” Grant teased. Not yet.
His thoughts went to the suit hanging in the closet, to the day that laid out before them. He thought of the altar, the vows he had written on a scrap piece of paper in the kitchen one evening while he babysat the stove and watched Marco watch TV on the couch. His stomach turned over and the ground seemed to give way underneath him.
Marco wanted kids. He wanted to open up their home to another. A small, impressionable child that would rely on them for safety and comfort. For guidance. For love. Grant couldn’t take care of himself, how was he supposed to take care of someone else? The world was in shambles, D.A.D.D.I.E.S was barely holding the horrors at bay. The calls were regular. Those were the only times Grant felt alive: on the other side of a gun. That's not what a parent should feel. He couldn’t be trusted with something so small and tender. So impressionable. He was broken. Marco deserved someone better than him.
Being with Marco put a spell on him, it clouded his judgement. When Marco had proposed, Grant had been put into a mania- that’s why he said yes. He should have known better to get into this mess. He should've known better and called it off much sooner. This was all an experiment in Grant's stability and he had failed. He was a failure.
Why do you love me? He wanted to ask. Why are you still here? You should know better by now.
Instead, he said nothing, and let Marco draw a line of kisses down the edge of his chin. His hand found Marco's back, and rubbed up and down, feeling the bumps of Marco's spine. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, the familiar leftover smell of Marco's shampoo wafting from his hair.
Selfishly, he wanted to keep him. Even though he knew he didn't deserve him.
He must have done a good job fooling Marco to believe he was someone worth loving. They were getting married today. Married.
After circling Grant's face with kisses, Marco pulled back, an elbow on either side of Grant's head keeping him propped up.
“You're thinking,” Marco told him.
Grant tried to wipe any expression from his face. He shook his head. “Just thinking about you.”
“You're cute when you think.” Marco kissed his forehead. “Cute, but dangerous. You're worried, aren't you?”
Grant opened his mouth to deny it, but Marco shook his head and kissed his forehead again. “The wedding will be fine. And even if it isn't, we have each other.” He smiled. “But you're not getting out of our dance, no matter how much you pout.”
Grant laughed and his hands found Marco's hips in a practiced gesture, reinforced by the many dancing classes they'd taken in preparation for today. Marco shimmied against him. Grant's face broke into a smile.
“See?” Marco kissed him again. “We'll be fine."
He wanted to believe him.