Chapter Text
anthony potero is drunk. to be fair, so are his friends. the sun has long since set, streetlights misting out any semblance of stars in the sky when they all collapse in the living room. the kind of energetic drunk shenanigans they usually partake in had been fun for a bit, but the four have been so hard at work over the last weeks that they run out of steam pretty quickly. the couches seem much more inviting, and the promise of some trashy tv show lets all of them still enjoy their drunken state, but from a more comfortable position.
hanbon flicks through the netflix list, eventually settling on a season of some dating show anthony has no interest in, but will heckle nonetheless. he’s had his fill of dating shows, the video for his channel having been enjoyable, but not something he would do again. watching as the eight hot singles stroll into the villa, he laughs to himself at the idea of marriage in such a short timeframe.
“d’you guys think these things are scripted?” coy wonders aloud, sinking back into the couch and pulling a blanket across them both. anthony glances at him, gaze flicking over the red of his face, a tell-tale sign of his drunken state. his eyes seem glued to the screen, an absent smile on his lips as one of the eligible bachelors says something stupid and clip-able. perfect for the show’s vertical shorts, or whatever they’re calling the clickbait instagram reels nowadays.
on his other side, hanbon shifts, foot nudging anthony’s and he blinks, moving his gaze from coy, where it had settled for perhaps too long.
“oh probably,” will sighs, head lolling off of the couch arm and not even looking at the screen. “i’m melissa, i’m from california and perfect! i’m todd, i’m from new york and looking for someone perfect,” he manipulates his voice into the two characters, using his hands as puppets.
“and i’m jessica, i’m gonna steal your man!” coy exclaims, shoving his hand-puppet between will’s two. hanbon snorts, and anthony feels laughter bubble up inside. it is not a bit he’d typically laugh at, especially in his on-camera persona, but he’s drunk with his friends in their home, so he laughs. coy looks over, lips curling into that smile he only does when he feels satisfied at a joke. anthony lets himself stare for a moment longer. on the screen, a couple is already making out against a backdrop of some gorgeous beach.
“okay, if it was scripted,” hanbon begins, sitting up. “what would be your… like, bit? like if you had to be on one of these shows?” she raises her eyebrows, scanning the room. “and no, anthpo, you can’t say eligible bachelor, ‘cause you already did that,” she pokes his cheek and he rolls his eyes.
“wasn’t gonna,” anthony mumbles, tipping his head back to rest it on the back of the couch. the ceiling looks higher up than normal as he gazes at it, noting several stains of the concerning variety. food, maybe, or water leaking. for a moment, he wonders if he needs to do something about them, but the alcohol pins his limbs to the couch, and he tilts his head back down, immediately forgetting about the stains on the ceiling.
“i’d be… um… it’d be fun to be a villain, i guess,” the man ponders, tapping his fingers absently. “not like a mean guy, obviously,” feeling the need to clarify, anthony suddenly is intensely thinking about this situation. “like harmless, but i get to have fun.” even he knows that his words aren’t really making sense, but he doesn’t particularly care. the surface below his fingers moves and he notes with a sharp clarity that he’s been drumming on coy’s thigh. he moves his hand away, clasps it with his other, and keeps them tight against his chest. “what ‘bout you guys?”
hanbon waxes poetic for a moment about how she’d be the hard-to-get one, claiming those couples always lasted longer than the others. will mumbles something about a bromance, which apparently gets a lot of views if his instagram explore page is anything to go by. coy is silent while the other two speak, his gray-green eyes fixed on the tv screen. anthony watches him watch it, and wonders vaguely if it’s the alcohol that’s making his head feel all fuzzy and his chest feel all light.
silence lapses over the group, cut through only by the voices on the television, and they all watch for a while, the night sinking deeper into its darkness. anthony can’t pay attention to the screen, his body currently focusing singularly on the fact that his shoulder is tucked against coy’s. it’d be so easy to put his arm up, to pretend he needed more room and slip it over the other’s shoulders. he doesn’t do it.
“i honestly might try to take it seriously,” coy finally says, chewing on his lower lip. anthony feels his attention fix sharply on it and wills himself to listen to the actual words being spoken. “like… one in every hundred couples has to actually make it, right? maybe the best bit would be to be real about it,” there’s something else in coy’s voice, but anthony can’t place the particular note. he hums, head nodding before he decides if he agrees or not.
“you’d be good at it,” the words slip out before he thinks them fully. it’s perhaps the truest thing anthony’s said all night. coy would be good at this sort of thing, if only because he has the capacity to be earnest and purely himself without trying too hard. vaguely, anthony imagines coy on the beach in the show, mingling with the other single contestants, and feels something burn low in his throat. he shakes the image from his head.
“would you get married at the end?” asks will, now sitting up and present in the conversation. his eyes seem to flick between coy and anthony with some unreadable expression. anthony frowns at him, and will simply blinks. coy breathes out, thinking hard before he replies.
“it’d be good for the bit,” is his answer, which is really not an answer at all, and anthony is about to call him out on it before he remembers that nothing about this conversation is truly serious.
“i bet you’d get married!” hanbon exclaims, leaping to her feet and beginning to skip around the room. “you’d be the most handsome groom in the world,” she sounds incredibly drunk, but affection for her friend twinkles in her eyes. “ohhh what ring would you have, coy? would it be a beach wedding?”
there is some excitement in hanbon’s voice that tells anthony shenanigans are about to start up again. he stays where he is, watching his friend with narrowed eyes. beside him, coy laughs at her antics. the tv blares on, cutting to some confessional in which a woman sobs about lost love or something. anthony’s not paying attention.
will is up now too, frolicking with hanbon and singing an off rendition of ‘here comes the bride’ as he spins and twirls. coy glances at anthony with eyebrows raised, a burst of laughter pouring from his mouth, and anthony laughs too, at the absurdity of it all, at the fact that he’s here, with his favorite people. he likes nights like these.
hands grasp anthony’s own, hanbon pulling him to stand. he does, feeling a little light-headed at the sudden change, and accepts the scrap of paper that is shoved clumsily into his hands.
“what’s going on?” he asks, but there is no response from hanbon, who has now yanked coy to his feet and is bustling around in the kitchen. “hanbon,” anthony tries again, turning the paper over in his hands. it’s blank, just a long slip of paper with no meaning behind it. coy receives the same, and he looks about as confused as anthony feels.
“we’re acting it out!” is the only explanation hanbon gives, as will guides anthony into the middle of the room, then returns to the couch to drag coy over too. “i’m the officiant, obviously, ‘cause i’m actually certified for it,” hanbon had gotten certified to conduct weddings as a joke years ago, something she brings up every once in a while for a fun fact. “will, you’re the flower girl!”
will, taking the bit and running with it as he so often does, skips out of the room and thunders down the stairs. the front door slams, then re-opens a moment later. he appears back in the room with three dandelions in his hands, looking incredibly proud of his work.
“take this,” he orders, handing anthony one of the flowers and coy another. anthony, still baffled, spins the dandelion around in his fingers, glancing about the room as if the walls might give him some clue as to what might be happening.
“...kay, so what am i?” he asks, and hanbon smirks, her eyes glittering knowingly.
“you’re the other groom,” she says it simply, like it means nothing, like this is just a joke for the four of them. their living room lamps glow golden, casting a warm halo around everything. anthony’s lips tighten, staring at his friend as she almost dares him to disagree. in any other state, he would, but alcohol makes anthony weak. he looks over at coy, who’s laughing at will, just as baffled by the sudden commotion, but looking willing to play along.
coy makes anthony weak.
“fine,” he murmurs, allowing hanbon to direct him into place. she guides coy to face him, tucks their dandelions behind their ears, and snatches up the pieces of paper. quick fingers twist the scraps into funny-looking rings, hanbon not bothering to check whether either of them would fit. she puts them in her pocket, then makes anthony take coy’s hands in his own.
the other man’s hands are warm, skin soft against anthony’s. he is vaguely aware that he may be blushing, that he may be gazing at his friend with eyes too soft to be just joke-related. his mouth is dry, the alcohol pushing thoughts into his mind that he’d rather keep locked away.
coy looks genuinely beautiful in the soft light, his eyes shining in the way they only get when inebriated and enjoying the moment. anthony swallows as hanbon takes her place, allowing will to sing ‘here comes the bride’ again and scatter tiny dandelion petals all over their living room rug. someone will not enjoy cleaning up the pollen stains tomorrow, but it hardly matters right now.
“dearly... will-loved,” hanbon begins, giggling. there’s no audience besides will, so she directs her words to him. “we… you are gathered here today to honor the, umm, the wedding between anthpo and coy piso,” anthony meets coy’s eyes and both of them bite back laughter, trying to take the faux-wedding as seriously as possible. “both of the grooms have prepared their own vows,” hanbon announces, grinning. “anthony, you should go first.”
it’s not that improv isn’t anthony’s thing. half of their channel is improv, with some light scripting, but when face to face with coy in this... wedding situation, anthony’s brain glitches. after a heartbeat of silence, he clears his throat, deciding to run with the theme of a reality tv wedding. “dear coy, from the moment we met… three minutes ago,” coy snorts at this. “i knew you were the one for me. you are, uh, funny and cool and this is a scripted television show,” he finishes, nodding as if satisfied.
hanbon looks less than pleased, clearly hoping for something more profound, but she sighs and moves on. “coy, your turn,” she prompts. coy arranges his face in an expression of deep, tearful love.
“oh anthony, ever since the writers wrote our wedding into this episode, i have loved you,” he proclaims. anthony puts a hand to his mouth, pretending to be shocked and overwhelmed by the speech. in reality, something in his chest stirs at those last words. there are no cameras, nothing to perform to, and so it is very easy to take coy’s wide eyes and their interlocked hands as something else entirely.
sober anthony would never think like this, but drunk anthony is an idiot who can’t stop imagining this scenario as a reality. he has to scold himself internally, remind himself this is one of his best friends, not a viable romantic partner. no matter how much he might want it.
okay, yeah, he’s drunk. he definitely hasn’t ever thought about that before. coy’s speech continues, each word mushier and softer than the last. hanbon is looking incredibly happy, and will is dabbing a tissue at his eyes as if he is overcome with emotion. hanbon hands the two of them their paper rings, says something about everlasting love and a beautiful new beginning for the happy couple. she meets his eyes finally, clearing her throat.
“do you, anthpo, take coy piso to be your lawfully wedded husband, to, um, love, and to hold, until you both die?” not the traditional words, but anthony nods.
“i do,”
“and do you, coy piso, take anthpo to be your lawfully wedded husband, to… oh! to have and to hold, ‘til death do you part?” she seems to have remembered the proper words now. coy gazes deep into anthony’s eyes, so soft in his expression that anthony can almost let himself think this is real.
“i do,”
“then by the power infested… inf... what is it, invested? vested?” hanbon gets sidetracked trying to remember. “ok by the power given to me by the online form i filled out, i pronounce you husband and husband. you may kiss the… husband.” glee takes over her expression and she looks expectantly. will cheers, jumping up and down.
anthony swallows, meets coy’s gaze again. it all suddenly feels too real, with the vows and ceremony done. obviously this is not a wedding he would actually have, and obviously it’s all a joke he will likely not remember tomorrow, but fear strikes him as he realizes there is something here he wishes he could hold on to. coy is leaning in, much more committed to this than previously assumed, and anthony feels a lift in his chest as he thinks for the briefest of seconds that it might actually happen. why does he want it to happen?
lips brush anthony’s cheek, setting the skin there aflame, and coy steps back, looking around to hanbon and will who grab his hands and pull him into their jumping dance. anthony feels petrified, standing there with a wilting dandelion behind his ear and the lingering feeling of the kiss still ghosting across his cheek. he raises his hand to rub it, willing the feeling to go away, then, as if his brain has kickstarted again, strides over to the fridge and grabs another beer.
cracking it open, he takes a deep gulp, savoring the tang on his tongue as if it’ll wash away the uncomfortable lump in his throat. his friends have collapsed back on the couch, chattering amongst themselves about the show, as if the fake wedding had not just happened. anthony wanders back over, awkwardly slotting himself in beside will. he purposefully avoids his original spot between coy and hanbon, feeling as though if he touches the other man, something deep and truthful will spill from him.
more alcohol helps anthony loosen up again, the night turning into early morning as one by one, the friends peel off to their bedrooms. hanbon is staying over, sleeping in her old room for the night. she brushes past anthony in the hallway, then turns, gripping his hand. “y’were a good sport,” she tells him, eyes wide and serious. he blinks at her, not quite comprehending the sudden shift in tone.
“okay?” he will finally say, raising his eyebrows at her. she squeezes his hand, then lets go.
“you’ll figure it out eventually,” is her last cryptic statement before she disappears into the bedroom. will stumbles down the hall to his room, and anthony and coy are left in the slightly trashed living room. anthony lets out a breath, sinking into the couch again.
the tv and both lamps are off, the only light in the room from the streetlamps out the windows. coy is laying on the floor, his feet up against the wall as he hums some musical theater song. anthony watches him out of the corner of his eye, something fiercely fond in his chest. the other man looks back, meeting his eyes.
“so we’re married now,” coy reminds him, grinning from his upside-down position. anthony snorts, downs the rest of his beer.
“is it legal if hanbon is a certified pastor or whatever?”
“i don’t thiiink hanbon’s a pastor. is hanbon a pastor?”
“she might be good at it,” anthony reasons, although imagining his friend leading a congregation makes him take back his words. “maybe not.”
coy giggles, swinging his legs around so he can sit up. he looks at anthony for a long moment, head tilted, and anthony forces himself to meet his gaze. then, coy stands up, wobbling slightly, and shuffles over to the couch. they’re so close now – if anthony stood, their noses would be brushing. coy looks down at him, smiles.
“g’night, anthpo,” he leans down and presses his lips to anthony’s cheek again. then he is gone, slipping into the dark hallway. anthony hears a bedroom door click shut. he sits in the dark, that burning sensation returning to his cheeks, and crumples the beer can in his hands.
he supposes really he should be grateful that it was only a pretend wedding, because he's pretty sure hanbon's officiant powers not actually legally strong enough to bind them through real marriage. he should be happy that the channel won't have to end because two of them got actually married on a drunk whim. drinking always brings out weird things in all of them, but the wedding, the flowers… there’s a painful thought in his head, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge. it bounces around his skull until he finally grips it, letting it sink in. they might’ve been drunk tonight, but he would’ve done it all sober if he could.