Newlywedded Dinner
Summary: In which maybe they’re too young to be married, but they’re in love and happy, so what does it matter?
Prompt: Goretober, Smile
Warnings: wedding doubts, fear of future, Mark loving his wife, this isn’t entirely angst, but still really angsty so don’t get your hopes up.
Note: Something that isn’t entirely angst?? What happened? Also day four and we’re still going! Hope you enjoy this one!!
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Celine sits at the dinner table, taking small bites as she cuts her gaze between her new husband and his brother. She smiles tightly, the meaning of their conversation flying over her head as she thinks.
She thinks she’s made a mistake.
She thinks that they’d gotten engaged too soon, hadn’t dated long enough to be confident in the forever they’d promised each other.
Damien nudges her with his elbow and she turns her face, smiles and nods, and hopes it’s the right move. Mark’s smile widens, bright and blinding and oh-so-happy and Celine’s own smile wavers.
Mark places his hand on hers and she squeezes it reflexively, wondering if this is the right thing to do, if her mistake can be rectified, or if it’s already too late.
Looking at Mark, his over-brimming joy and infectious grin, she knows the answer. She’d said yes when he proposed and she’d said I do when the preacher had prompted her and she’d said I love you, too when he said it first. She’d said her wedding vows, had looked him in the eyes as she promised forever.
She’s promised him so many things. Forever, her love, her acceptance, her support. She’s promised him everything, holds those shackles in the form of a tiny, simple ring wrapped around her finger. She promised and she wasn’t one to break promises.
Even if she’s meant every word she’s told him, feels every bit of love she’s expressed. She doesn’t regret their marriage, doesn’t regret saying yes to him, but she feels like she regrets something, sensing a missing piece.
Smiling at Mark, smiling at Damien, smiling at William, she knows that her mistake could have been worse. Mark was a nice man, was in love with her. He adored her and spoiled her and she loved that at least, if not him.
She loves him, but she doesn’t know if it’s the all-consuming, ever-lasting kind of love a wife should hold for her husband. Those words seem bigger then her, bigger then the both of them, serious and binding in a way she’s not sure they were ready for. Captivating and challenging in a way they might not be old and experienced enough to commit to for the rest of their lives.
Forever was a long time, in the end. How could one promise that with such unwavering certainty?
Sometimes she wishes that they’d waited a little, but she’d been just as eager as him when he slipped the band of silver onto her finger and she’d said nothing to delay the big day. She’d been excited and in love and it had felt right.
That’s why she’s sitting at a table with her new husband and smiling.
There’s no doubt of his love for her. He loves her sweetly, with honey kisses and starry eyes and warm palms. He loves her like she’s air, the oxygen he lives off of, and she loves him like she loves the outdoors. From a little farther of a distance, softer, but not any less.
It’s still love. Hers just isn’t big grandiose displays like his. She wishes that she loved someone — him — like she’d die if she didn’t, she wishes that she craved his touch and his gaze and his smile like she craved a warm bath after a stressful day, unneeded, technically, but very, very welcome. She wishes she loved someone with absolute certainty that she’d die with him at her side.
And she does. Sometimes. But other times, she just craves a little space. Time without his constant need for touch, or for his chatter to fill her ears. She loves him, but sometimes she wishes he was just a little less clingy.
Wishes are futile, however, and she doesn’t crave him at all hours and she places him beside herself, but not above. Equals. She loves him, but sometimes she needs her space and she loves herself, too. She doesn’t think he’s any better then her.
But at the time, when he was on his knee and grinning up at her hopefully, nerves present in his trembling hands, saying no to marriage felt like saying no to him. She’d never say no to him.
So here she was. Wedded and happy with a tiny, seed of fear, anxiety for their future and if they’d be able to hold this up for the rest of their lives.
She may not love him in exactly the way she’s always dreamed, but she does still love him. Her heart still skips a beat when she sees him, jumping happily when she’s the reason for his smile. She still enjoys the feeling of their fingers entwined and his lips on hers.
She still loves him. Adores him, even. And maybe it’s not her that’s the problem, maybe her loving him less isn’t the issue, but him loving her more. He tells her big words, promises anything and everything and... she thinks he means it.
Smiling at dinner, pecking at her food and smiling fondly at the man who’s learned how to eat one handed just so he can hold hers for a few more minutes out of the day, she thinks she’s right.
He loves her in spoils, with gifts and fancy dinners. A hand in contact with her at all times, a brazen kiss in public, him grinning and her red-cheeked. She loves him a little quieter. A hand slipped in his jacket pocket cradling his, a warm imprint of her lipstick to his cheek, a note hidden in his bag when he leaves for work.
Soft, gentle, hidden.
Her love is different from his and she worries that one day, her little shows of affection won’t be enough for him. That one day, he’ll realize that he craves more and she won’t be able to provide it.
I love you. Those are his favorite words, his new catchphrase that he tacks on to the end of his sentences and they’re practically tattooed to her ears with the frequency in which they’re said.
She’d melted, the first time he said them. Had sighed and smiled shyly, her joy biting at her to spread it wider. She’d whispered it back, adrenaline racing in her blood, pounding her heart as she leaned up to kiss him. He’d kissed back, cradling her face like she was precious and important. Because she was, is. To him, she is everything.
She lifts her hand, dragging the tangle of fingers up to press a kiss onto his knuckles. She tugs on his arm, interrupting whatever he saying to William, and presses her lips against the stubble dusting his cheek.
It’s short and sweet, and she’s smiling as she pulls away, murmuring a soft “I love you” as she returns to her food and pretends not to notice the way he’s watching her.
She’s surprised him, interrupting dinner and conversation with a show of gentle affection. His heart had stopped, throbbing in a sickeningly sweet way as he stumbled over his words to William. God, he loved her.
Smiling coyly, she untangles their hands, patting his knee as she resumes eating.
He’s slow to return to normal, as he always is. He melts anytime she initiates, his brain malfunctioning like it’s the first time she’s kissing him and it’s a shock that she returns his feelings. He mindlessly, robotically, continues his conversation with William, Damien occasionally chipping in, but his eyes don’t leave her.
He’s infatuated with everything she does and that’s why he was able to promise the entirety of his future to her so easily. He loves her with everything, would literally do anything for her and that’s his problem. It is possible to love someone too much and he straddles that line.
Loving her is the best thing he’s ever done. The only thing he wants to do. Giving her his name had been an honor and a pleasure and a dream come true.
He smiles at her as he thinks of their future and she smiles back. They’re in love. Happily married and happily together.
If only their love story ended with happily ever after.
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Masterlist
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