Debbie’s dress wasn’t quite cream and it wasn’t quite white, but it was understated and, Brian had to admit, even classy. Well, classy for Debbie. He smirked while raising an imaginary glass to Justin in a silent toast from across the room. Paying off his debt would be such a hardship.

“I can’t believe I cried!” Michael said from his elbow as Ben made comforting noises.

“Honey, who wouldn’t cry?” Emmett was, in fact, still sniffling. “You’d have to have a heart of stone not to cry! Those vows...”

Brian, who hadn’t felt even the slightest inclination toward tears, slung an arm companionably around Michael’s shoulders. “So,” he said, “are you going to start calling him Pop?”

Debbie emerged from the courtyard looking breathless and radiant, and immediately enveloped Michael in a bear-hug, only letting go when he began to flail his arms and squeak. If only he was kidding.

“You look beautiful, Deb,” Brian said truthfully, a little surprised that the old adage about glowing brides really was true. In that moment, Debbie shone.

“I fucking well better, this thing cost a fortune!” Debbie flipped a hand at the layers of silken fabric and laughed raucously.

Brian blinked, slowly. Better. All was again aligned properly in his universe.

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it, Carl?” Debbie’s eyes softened when she looked at Carl. Brian wondered if his eyes melted like that when he looked at Justin. He was pretty sure they did, and the thought didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Or at all, if he was honest. Which he was. Unfailingly.

“Everything’s worth it for you, hon,” Carl replied as he leaned in to kiss his bride.

They were saved from a gruesome display of heterosexual sentimentality when Deb pulled slightly away to slug Brian lightly on the arm. “And what about you? When are you going to make an honest man out of our Sunshine?”

Brian sighed elaborately. “Ask him, Deb. If only he’d stop fluttering around the globe like a wee little butterfly,” Brian flapped his arms and sniggered, “flitting from one project to the next, with nary a care about the people he‘s left behind--”

“I heard that!” Justin called from across the room.

“Fucker’s got good ears,” Brian muttered to Michael.

“Heard that too,” Justin sing-songed.

Justin knew that Brian would never last throughout the entire reception, so it was no surprise when a warm hand squeezed his knee and Brian slipped away from their table. Justin sat through the completion of Carl’s daughter’s speech and several rounds of glass-clinking to get the newlyweds to kiss, but when Carl’s son rose to address the tables filled with guests and Brian still hadn’t returned, Justin carefully folded his napkin at the side of his plate and made his own leave.

He found Brian on the deck overlooking the stables, the glow from the end of his cigarette the only illumination as the sky darkened. Darkness came earlier here, without city lights to artificially brighten the night. It was one of the things Justin loved about coming home.

He bumped his hip against Brian’s. “When are we going to tell them?”

“We don’t want to steal Deb’s thunder, Sunshine. She’d fucking kill us.”

He knew that, of course he knew that. Justin tucked his hand in his jacket pocket and let his fingers slide over the ring, and felt seventeen and unsure and bouncing-on-his-toes eager despite sold out gallery showings and flattering magazine articles. “Sure. But when?”

“I say we send them all a mass email from Paris,” Brian said as he tossed his cigarette over the railing in a shower of sparks.

“I thought we ruled out Paris.”

“Berlin?”

Justin pulled his hand from his pocket and grabbed Brian’s lapel playfully instead. “Ibiza,” he demanded. “You still owe me.”

“Ibeeetha,” Brian corrected, as he always did, and Justin rolled his eyes, as he always did. Then Brian was pulling Justin closer, forehead pressed to his, and his breath was warm and sweet, and his eyes were soft and hooded, and just before their lips met Brian breathed, “Honeymoon in Ibiza sounds perfect to me.”

Faintly the band began to play, and Justin reluctantly pulled away. “We’re going to miss Deb and Carl’s first dance.”

“Hmmm.”

Justin licked his lips. “You know, a trip to Ibiza isn’t the only thing you owe me.”

Brian grinned wickedly, and drew Justin into the shadows.