To: kellankyle (LJ),
Title: The Wedding Pact Threat
Gift request: Fic crack, humor, sexy fun times, I will be thankful for anything B/J
Summary: When they were twenty Justin and Daphne made a Wedding Pact - If they were both unmarried by the time they were thirty, they would marry each other. Now, ten years later, Daphne has broken up with her latest loser boyfriend and has decided to enforce the pact...
“I’m invoking Paragraph Four of our Wedding Pact,” Daphne announced as she stormed into our bedroom far too early on that Saturday morning in late April. “And I’ve decided I want an actual ceremony rather than just eloping, so we need to start planning now if I want to be a June Bride.”
Brian, who’d been rootling around somewhere down below, turtled his head up from under the covers and literally growled at our unwanted bedroom invader. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe this is still my house and my bedroom. Right?”
I shrugged and joined him in frowning at the woman who was even then climbing up on the bed with us, completely disregarding the obvious fact that the two men already in the bed were halfway into our regular weekend morning sexy time antics.
“I was thinking of doing something elegant and tasteful,” Daphne continued without even acknowledging my frowning face. “What do you think of amethyst and apricot as the colors?”
“Okay, because I like you, Daphne, I’m going to give you thirty seconds to get your ass out of my house before I call the police and report you for breaking and entering,” Brian growled at her, adding a kick from under the covers aimed at pushing her tush off the edge of the mattress.
“I’m not breaking and entering. I have a key.” When both Brian and I looked at her in confusion, she fessed up. “You know, from when I stayed her last summer while you two went to Spain for three weeks? So you can’t have me arrested.”
“Whatever. I’ll kick you out myself,” Brian conceded the possibility of getting police assistance to rid us of our uninvited guest, but wasn’t about to relent on getting rid of the woman who had interrupted the morning’s festivities. “You have twenty-five seconds.”
“Fuck off, Brian. I need to talk to my fiance,” Daph turned to face me with this determined look on her face - one I’d long ago come to dread.
“Did I miss something?” Brian seemed as taken aback as I was at hearing the taboo word, ‘fiance’. “Because, unless I was mistaken, your ‘fiance’ wasn’t into girls, let alone about to marry one. Or at least he didn’t seem like he’d be interested in that twenty minutes ago when I had my dick up his ass.”
“Yeah, we’re going to have to talk about that, Justin.” Daphne didn’t even look at Brian. “I’m going to require at least three conjugal servicings a week. I suppose you can keep fucking Brian the rest of the week, but a girl has needs, you know, and I will expect you, as my husband, to keep up your end of the deal.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Daphne?” The thought of any sort of conjugal anything with Daphne finally shocking me to the point I figured I had to get involved in this crazy conversation.
“Our Wedding Pact,” she explained, to my utter confusion. “Remember? When we were twenty? We promised each other that if we were both single when we turned thirty, we would get married. Well, I turned thirty three weeks ago and today I broke up with that asshole, Alex. So I’m single again and I’m tired of dating idiots and losers. I’m ready to settle down. Therefore, I’m invoking the Pact that said we’d get married. You promised, Justin.”
“What the fuck? When the fuck did this shit happen?” Brian demanded, starting to sound a little more worried than angry.
“Well . . . Um . . . Shit,” I was feeling a little disconcerted myself, because I actually did remember what Daphne was referring to now that she’d mentioned it. “Remember when you found out I knew about your cancer and you kicked me out? Rather spectacularly, I might add?” Brian reluctantly nodded. “Well, I was pretty pissed off . . .”
“And when he came to me, I consoled him . . .” Daphne interjected.
“By making me drink about a gallon of Mai Tai’s, if I remember correctly,” I added.
“You didn’t object,” Daphne countered. “Hell, YOU were the one who came up with the Wedding Pact idea, Justin. You wrote it all down on the lid of the pizza delivery box and made me sign it in blood. I still have the fucking piece of cardboard saved in my closet, actually, so don’t try and get out of it, Mister. I have a valid contract and I intend to enforce it. So, tell me, do you have a preference as to dates?”
“Sorry to throw a monkey wrench into your plans, Daphne,” Brian intervened in the conversation at this point, “but Justin isn’t single, so I think your agreement is null and void.”
“Sorry, Brian, but you don’t count,” Daphne insisted. “You can barely admit you’re even a couple most of the time. In the past ten years you’ve only actually lived together for maybe about two years, tops. Justin only just came back from New York a year ago and you spent four months of that time living on different continents while he was in Europe doing that art exchange thingy. Even when you are together, you’re not exclusive and, let’s face it, you two have had more breakups than YouTube has breakup videos. So, as far as I’m concerned, that qualifies as single. Or at least single enough to trigger the terms of our Pact.”
“Just because we’re not lesbians or hetero-wannabe-monogamites, doesn’t mean we aren’t a fucking couple,” Brian argued, getting worked up enough by that point that he’d crawled out of bed and was pacing around the bedroom stark naked while he lectured Daphne. “Where do you get off telling us what our relationship should look like. We do just fine, for your information. We don’t need locks on our doors or rings on our fingers. We’re just fine as we are and you can fuck off already, thank you very much.”
“Oh, get off it already, Brian. I’m not buying it. You’ve had more than enough chances to marry him and you ALWAYS find some what to back out of it. Well, time’s up. Justin and I have a deal and I’m not letting him out of it. I want to be married so I no longer have to deal with manipulative, narcissistic losers like Alex ever again. Case closed,” she maintained adamantly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Brian, obviously itching for a fight and unlikely to be easily swayed.
“So, according to you, the fact that I feed him, clothe him, fuck him, and currently at least, live with him doesn’t count? Fuck you, Daphne. That counts as not single in my book. Right, Sunshine?”
“I think . . .” I tried to voice my opinion, only to be immediately shouted down.
“Like I said, Justin’s lived with me almost as often as he’s lived with you over the years, Brian, so if we’re measuring by time served, I have as much claim to him as you. Besides, I’ve known him longer - we’ve been friends since kindergarten - and I’ve fucked him too, in case you forgot,” Daph argued, getting up so she could stand in Brian’s face and counter him more efficiently.
“You seriously think your one time of lukewarm straight sex could possibly compare to the thousands of times he’s been with me?” Brian laughed at that suggestion. “I don’t care how much your straight boyfriends like you, sweetheart, nothing can compare to a Brian Kinney fuck. Nothing!”
“Yeah, well, maybe not, but I can give him all the shit you won’t,” Daphne rejoined, not yet willing to concede the fight. “I’m not allergic to talking. Justin and I have shared everything - our thoughts, hopes, feelings, dreams . . . hell, even our sex stories . . . from the time we were practically babies. We don’t have any secrets from each other. Bet you can’t say that, can you?”
“Fuck you. I don’t have secrets. I’m an open fucking book.”
“Fucking being the prime word there,” Daphne snarked at him, not caring that she had to look upward almost two full feet in order to glare back at Brian. “Come on, Brian, admit it. I bet I know Justin a thousand times better than you.”
“Like hell you do. I may not be as touchy-feely as a straight girl, but I know all I need to know. I know all about his ass. And his dick.”
“By this point, doesn’t everyone in both Pittsburgh and New York know all about both your dicks?” Daphne countered. “Besides, I’m not saying Justin can’t continue to fuck you. I get that he’ll still have those urges, but I can give him other things than just sex. I can give him stability. And children - bet you didn’t know he wants kids someday, did you?” Brian looked a little spooked by that news, looking over Daph’s shoulder towards me with a questioning look in his eyes. “Marrying me is the best solution for both of us. We will both get the family we talked about having when we were kids. You’re not going to give him that, are you?”
“To be honest . . .” I tried to get a word in edgewise at that point, but apparently nobody cared about MY opinion on the issue.
“So, let me get this straight,” Brian practically yelled. “You plan to take MY boyfriend away so he can make babies for you? That’s the only reason you want him? I didn’t take you for the boring suburban housewife, type, Daph.”
“I’m not. I don’t intend to be a housewife, suburban or otherwise,” Daphne spat back at my now angry but still naked ‘boyfriend’ - who MUST have been annoyed as hell to have used that dreaded word out loud. “I’ll be finishing my residency this year and then I’ll be a fully licensed doctor, thank you very much.”
“That’s a good thing, then, since you’ll need to be making a hell of a lot more money than you are now if you intend to take on Justin. He’s not cheap, you know,” Brian surmised, starting to tick off on his fingers all the expenses my potential wife would incur on my behalf. “He eats like a fucking horse. He’s always wasting money on those rags he gets at The Gap that he claims qualify as clothing. And he constantly needs more and better art supplies - you wouldn’t believe what some of that crap costs. Hell, I’ve probably put in hundreds of thousands on his food and upkeep over the years. And now, after I’ve invested all that, you think you’ll just waltz in and take over? I don’t think so, Missy. You can’t afford him.”
“Hey, now that I’m selling my art regularly, I pay my own way,” I asserted, a little miffed at the way Brian made it sound like I was some prized pet or something.
“Shut up, Justin!” BOTH my partner and my best friend sniped at me before going back to their apparently private discussion.
“So, what? You think you’ve got more of a claim to him just because you’ve got more money?” Daphne accused Brian, looking at him with squinty eyes and a pursed up mouth.
“You said it, not me,” Brian rejoined just as vehemently. “I don’t care how much you think you’re going to make as a doctor, though, what with your student loans to pay off and all, it’ll be years before you come even close to making what I do now. I seriously don’t think you can afford our boy.”
“Pfft. He’s not that expensive. We’ll make do.”
“Uh, guys, I’m sitting right here,” I tried again to assert myself, apparently unsuccessfully since they didn’t even look my way.
“If all you want him for is his baby-makers and three fucks a week, you’d be better off going to a sperm bank and getting yourself a good dildo or two,” Brian countered. “Fuck, I’ll pay for both for you, just to get rid of you so we can go back to fucking already.”
“You can’t just buy me off with a free dildo, you ass,” Daphne yelled back at him.
“Fine, what do you want then?” Brian asked, going into full wheeler-dealer mode. “You want the real thing? I happen to know a great escort service that can supply a warm body for your bed when you need it. That sounds like about all you’re looking for?”
“Have you always been a total jerk or are you just getting worse with age?”
“No gigolo then? Fine. What is it that you really want? What will it take to just get you the fuck out of my damn bedroom? Money? Jewelry? A fucking car? What?”
“Hey, you never offered to buy ME a car,” I tried to point out from where I was sitting, still being ignored while they argued over who got possession of me.
“Why do you need a car? I already drive your ass all over all the time anyway?” he yelled at me and then immediately went back to haranguing Daphne. “See what you’ll have to put up with? Are you sure you’ve thought this out. He’s not exactly easy, you know.”
“I KNOW THAT! I’ve been his friend for a lot longer than you’ve known him, damn it!” Daphne yelled back at Brian. “Don’t you think I know just how fucking annoying he can be?”
“So, then, why the fuck do you want to marry him?” Brian demanded to know.
“Because I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want a companion. Someone to go to movies and dinner with and who’ll come to all the stupid family get togethers with me so that my parents will stop asking when I’m going to settle down. Someone who’ll just be there, you know? Someone who I can count on. Someone to get old and wrinkly with and who’ll sit around the fire and talk with me about how it was when we were younger. You know?”
“Yeah . . . I know . . .” Brian replied, sounding almost as wistful as Daphne for a second.
“Well, then you know why I need this, Brian. I’m tired of dating and never finding anyone half as good as my best friend. I need him,” Daphne implored, sounding almost like she was begging Brian by that point.
“And you think I don’t want that too?” Brian admitted, almost shyly. “Shit, I’m forty-fucking-two already. Damn it! No matter how hot I was in my twenties, or even in my thirties, I think I’ve finally reached the point where slowing down is fucking inevitable. I was just waiting for him to finish sowing HIS wild oats, you know? And now that I’ve finally got him home, you think you’re just going to swoop in and steal him out from under my nose? Think again, Daph.”
Brian stood there, looking slightly humbled, sighing as he finally admitted to the fact he was aging like it was a huge burden to want to finally settle down with me.
“Fine. I guess we can share him then,” Daphne offered. “You can keep him four nights a week and I’ll take him the other three. But I still need him to actually marry me so my parents will get off my back. And, since it’s probably the only wedding I’ll ever get, I want the whole shebang - the dress, the ceremony, the rings, everything.” She paused as if to think about it for a bit and then added, “you can have him on weekends and alternating Christmases. I want Thanksgiving. You can have Easter. And we’ll go halvsies on his birthday. Kay?”
“I don’t think so,” Brian answered, finally looking over at me. “I . . . I was hoping I’d get the fucking wedding someday myself.”
“What?” Both Daphne and I asked in shock.
Brian huffed another sigh and then turned around and stalked over to his dresser, opening up the top drawer and rifling around in his underwear till he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small, black velvet-covered box that I recognized from a long, long time ago. Then Brian turned towards the bed again and gently settled on the edge of the mattress holding the box out to me.
“I’ve been saving this, Sunshine. I . . . I sorta figured we’d get around to it again eventually.” He opened the box and held it closer to me so I could see the platinum band inside - the same one that we’d picked out for the wedding that never happened almost nine years earlier. “I know it wasn’t the right time before - you still had way too much living to do - but now that you’ve done the New York Art scene, the European Art scene and everything else, I thought, maybe, that you’d finally be ready? So, what do you say, Sunshine? Will you finally make an honest man out of me?”
“I don’t believe it! You’re co-opting my wedding plans!” Daphne grumbled, stamping her foot as she hovered behind my nakedly proposing partner. “No fair! I asked him first!”
I, of course, ignored Daphne and focused on the bright shiny object directly in front of me. “You’re serious? You’re finally ready?”
“Yeah. I am,” Brian admitted sheepishly. “I have been for a while, Twat. I was just waiting for you.”
I reached out and took the ring out of the box, admiring the band that looked so simple on the surface but which meant so much and came with so much baggage. I smiled as a flood of memories washed over me. All the good times and all the bad times too. They’d all led me here. We were finally ready. BOTH of us. It was about time.
“What do you say, Sunshine. Will you marry me?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
“Say it!” Brian ordered. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes. Yes, I WILL marry you, Brian Aiden Kinney.”
“FINALLY!” He laughed quietly and then leaned in to kiss me gently on the lips while he slid the ring on my finger as quickly as he could, almost as if he was afraid I’d change my mind.
“Fuck! What about me?” Daphne whined as soon as our kiss broke apart.
“Well, I’ll still spring for that new dildo and a trip to the sperm bank if you’ll be our best woman,” Brian proposed with a sly smile looking back over his shoulder. “Or, if Sunshine still really wants that family you two planned out in the sandbox when you were five, maybe we could arrange something? What do you say, twat?”
“Oh, so NOW you’re asking me? I thought you two had it all figured out,” I complained, having finally been recognized as having a say in their discussions. “By the way, I still want the car, Brian.”
“Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
“Oooo, I like this new, domesticated Brian Kinney,” I teased him.
Of course, Brian then reached around and spanked me because, fiance or not, he was still Brian Kinney, unconventional gay stud who wasn’t about to let me forget it.
“Sorry, Daphne. It looks like I’m not single anymore. I’m afraid our Wedding Pact is off,” I announced, and turned to kiss my fiance one more time.
“Damn it!” Daphne cursed again. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t delete my Tinder profile.” And she wandered back out of our bedroom with the same lack of ceremony with which she’d entered, leaving Brian and I to get back to our full weekend sexy time plans.
“Hmm. Amethyst and apricot . . .”
“Shut up and kiss me again, Mr. Kinney-Taylor,” Brian ordered.