A/N: My submission for the 141 Pride Writing Event. I got lucky enough to get the "Wedding" trope. Price and Nikolai have always been married in my mind, so I thought I'd write up what their wedding might be like. Happy Pride, everyone! 💜
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Soap was already in a mood by the time he and Gaz pulled into the venue parking lot.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, climbing out of the truck and staring at the sprawling countryside estate in front of them. Warm lights glowed from the windows, soft music drifting across the gardens. "Expected Price to have his retirement party in some pub, not a bloody palace."
Gaz shut the door beside him. "You're just grumpy that you had to wear something besides your civvies and that Ghost wouldn't come with you."
Soap scoffed. "Am no' grumpy."
"You called him a 'feckin dickhead' four times on the drive over."
"He is a feckin' dickhead."
Gaz grinned. "Right. So am I not good enough company anymore?"
That got a laugh out of Soap. He shoved Gaz's shoulder as they headed toward the entrance. "You're tolerable at best."
Gaz goes to make a retort as they step inside, but his words die on his tongue.
The place was somehow even more absurd than it looked from the outside.
Candles flickered across every surface, casting a warm light over massive arrangements of white flowers. The music they'd heard outside turned out to be a live string quartet that was tucked into the corner of the room.
Soap stopped walking altogether.
"Gaz."
"Yeah?"
"Why the fuck does Price's retirement party have flowers?"
Gaz frowned as he looked around. "Yeah… this feels less 'retirement' and more 'rich widow remarrying for inheritance'."
Soap snorted, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Guess this explains the dress code. This is…"
"Nikolai's doing," a new, familiar voice cut in.
Soap and Gaz turned to see Laswell approaching. She was dressed impeccably in a sharp, dark blue suit, and her hair was pulled back in a tight, simple updo.
"Laswell," Soap greeted, clinking his glass lightly against hers. "So Cap is finally letting himself be spoiled, then?"
Laswell smiled faintly. "Something like that. Nik just wanted to make sure he had what he deserved."
"Seems a bit much for a retirement party," Soap muttered at the exact same moment Gaz asked,
"So where is he?"
Laswell gave them both a knowing look. "Nik's helping him get ready. They'll be down soon. Try mingling in the meantime."
Sooap glanced around the room again, only now noticing how many unfamiliar faces there were. Older men in formalwear, elegantly dressed women, people laughing and quietly talking amongst themselves, all with similar confusion on their faces.
Before he could ask Laswell any follow-up questions, the music stopped, and Laswell took a step back.
"'Scuse me, boys. I'm needed elsewhere."
She disappeared into the crowd just as Price and Nikolai appeared at the top of the staircase that overlooked the main hall.
Price wore a dark, tailored suit, one hand tucked awkwardly into his pocket as though he'd rather be elsewhere. Beside him, Nikolai stood in a matching suit, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Well," Price began, his voice carrying through the room, "first off, thank you all for coming.
The room quieted immediately.
"Small change of plans, though." He glanced sideways at Nikolai before looking back at the crowd. "In case it wasn't already painfully obvious… this isn't a retirement party."
The already quiet room seemed to get impossibly silent.
"Nikolai and I are gettin' married in about five minutes," Price continued plainly. "So… if everyone could head into the ceremony room and grab a seat, that'd be appreciated."
He gestured toward a set of large doors as the staff hurried to open them.
Soap just stared, completely dumfounded. Beside him, Gaz was doing his best not to choke on his champagne.
Someone coughed awkwardly, and suddenly the spell broke. Conversations erupted immediately as people began filing toward the next room in varying states of shock.
"You have got to be kidding me," Soap said weakly. Price caught his eye from across the room and jerked his head toward the side entrance.
Soap frowned until he saw Ghost finally make his appearance.
He wore a fitted midnight-black suit, a small boutonniere pinned neatly to his lapel. His usual skull mask had been replaced with a sleeker gaiter that matched the color of his suit.
Soap's jaw dropped.
Ghost frowned immediately. "What?"
"You knew?"
"Aye."
"You knew?"
Ghost looked genuinely confused by the outrage. "Thought everybody did."
"What are you talking about?" Soap sputtered.
Gaz jerked his thumb to the other people who were moving into the ceremony room. "Mate, everyone here thought this was a retirement party."
Ghost blinked once. "Why would Price host his retirement party here?"
Soap opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Laswell passed by then, patting Ghost once on the shoulder. "Come on, boys. Ceremony's starting."
Soap pointed accusingly between the two of them. "You knew too? Both of you knew?"
Laswell silenced him with a single look, making Gaz stifle a laugh. Soap muttered under his breath while he and Gaz headed into the ceremony room.
If it wasn't blatantly obvious before that this was a wedding, it was now.
Flowers climbed the walls in sprawling arrangements while candles lined the aisle. At the end of everything stood a simple square arch wrapped in equally elegant florals.
A few minutes later, the ceremony began. It was very short but still sincere.
Price and Nikolai walked down the aisle together. Ghost stood beside Price as his best man, while Laswell stood on Nikolai's side, looking far too smug about this whole thing.
The officiant gave a nice, simple speech before asking the two men if they'd like to spend the rest of their lives together. Price's "aye" came out a bit rough, while Nikolai's answering "da" sounded brighter than the candles surrounding them.
Their kiss was followed by warm applause before everyone was ushered into the reception hall.
By the time dinner ended, the atmosphere had completely shifted. A DJ replaced the string quartet, the candles had been extinguished, and the dance floor was alive.
Soap's mood had improved significantly, especially after Price had sent over a bottle of whiskey as an apology.
"Had to make sure you didn't go blabbin'," Price told him while making his rounds. Soap couldn't stay angry after that. Though he was still mildly offended Ghost hadn't said anything to him.
Ghost, meanwhile, caught onto Soap's sulking and became deeply entertained by it. Gaz joined in, making playful jabs that only got worse the more alcohol became involved.
Eventually, the DJ called the newlyweds up, and they stood in front of everyone, microphone in Price's hand.
"Alright," he grumbled slightly. "Got one more thing we need to take care of. Nik and I have one more thing we'd like to inflict upon you all before the evenin' ends."
Beside him, Nikolai held up a bundled pair of socks.
"Instead of a bouquet," Nikolai explains, "we toss these. Whoever catches them wins this."
He pulled a bottle of very expensive vodka from behind his back.
The reaction was immediate. Soon enough, almost everyone was standing on the dance floor.
Soap and Gaz exchanged a look before immediately joining the crowd.
"Oh, absolutely not," Gaz muttered. "That bottle's mine."
"Like hell it is."
Music blasted through the speaker as Price took the socks from Nikolai. Without even fully turning around, he blindly tossed them over his shoulder.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Soap lunged for them at the same time Gaz did, the two of them slamming into each other as several other people tumbled in after them.
Meanwhile, Ghost effortlessly reached up and caught the bundle cleanly out of the air. Cheers and groans broke out around the room as the crowd started to disperse.
Ghost turned the socks over in his hand, brow lifting slightly as he read the embroidered text:
You're Next. Don't Get Cold Feet.
Gaz barked out a laugh when he saw it. "Oh? You're next then, mate?" he teased.
Ghost glanced down at Soap, who was still hauling himself off the floor, and offered him a hand. Soap took it automatically.
"Seems like it," Ghost murmured. Before Soap could respond, Ghost tugged his mask down and pulled him into a firm kiss.
When he pulled back, Soap could only stare at him, completely blindsided for the second time that night.
This was inspired by those stories you hear every now and then, where a married couple are going through childhood photos and discover that years before they properly met, they just happened to have both been in the same place, at the same time, and, as it turns out, even ended up in the same photo.
Or, Robby raids Jack’s embarrassing childhood photos and spots some surprisingly familiar faces in one of them.
(the rest of the baby!Jack unfortunate childhood photos are below the cut for those who are interested. Because I had too much fun sketching them 😂)
Graves: Attention, fuckers. It's Pride month so you shits better get your gay on and make me a proud papa peacock!
Shadows: *start collectively losing their minds and start barking like dogs*
(meanwhile with 141)
Ghost: Happy gay day, Cap
Price: What? Oh, it's June
Ghost: Wow, you're a terrible person. Didn't even know it was Pride month
Price: ... excuse me while I call my husband, lieutenant. We have reservations
Ghost, leaving the room: Don't suck him too hard, you can't afford losing any oxygen to the brain
Price:
Getting time off together can sometimes be a challenge, so when the stars do align in their favour, Jack likes to go and pick Robby up after his shift, so they don't waste a moment of it.
Guys, I was joking with the previous art. It's not my drawing, it's a screenshot from the full-length anime "Fullmetal Alchemist: The Battle for the Last Cookie."
i feel like the youth should be reminded that the point of shipping is not for a ship to become canon. the point of shipping is to collect all the canon crumbs like starved mice, run away cackling and make some fun little scenarios with them just for the hell of it.
the average blockbuster carried about 3x as many films than that that are streaming on Netflix or any other streaming service, physical media along with piracy is more important than ever.
I thought this wasn’t true, because how could it be true? How could one small store have more movies than an online database? So I googled it.
I am surprised and depressed to learn it’s 100% true, according to google. A Blockbuster store was required to have a minimum of 7000 titles, but most averaged about 10,000. Netflix has 4000 movies. (And 1800 tv shows if you want to count those, but even included, it’s still less)
Now I’m even more depressed about the collapse of physical rental stores.
Minnie, a Maine Coon with a diva complex. Dot, a kitten who looks like a mould spore. Boris, Kate's grumpy old man. And Dolly, contestant for the most pliable cat alive.
Minnie is not held; she parks herself in someone's lap, and they simply have to accept it. Dot can often be found between cushions and is at risk of being squished. Boris yields to no man, but maybe Kate sometimes, when he wants a chin scratch.
Dolly, their Bengal with pear green eyes, does not follow the law of physics. She can be picked up and flopped around without complaint. She is the leading example of the floppy cat craze.
Thus, Kate should not be surprised when she wanders into their kitchen to find Sarah dancing with the cat. To 80s disco music, specifically. For every shoulder shimmy, every body roll, and wiggle of Sarah's hips, Dolly remains pliant and slack-limbed against her chest.
The cat doesn't even voice a meow of complaint when Sarah waves her paw in the air to the tune of the song.
Kate has never resented Sarah for staying home; she chose to work, and her wife had the luxury to enjoy the peace of their house throughout the day, engaging in her hobbies.
But for once, Kate wishes she were unemployed. Just so she could have witnessed the ordeal from the moment it started.
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andulkaphoto
kaledo-art
dailybridgerton
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