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Title: A Wedding in Arcadia #4 -- Practice Makes Perfect
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Creating future memories...
Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 53
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at the Master Apprentice ML.
My MA story page is here.
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire
Here is Sue's gorgeous drawing of Ian at the rehearsal dinner: Ian Prentice. Quinn is just about to put the white carnation in his laddie's lapel.
Reluctantly disentangling after a satisfying doze, Ian and Quinn
showered together in preparation for the wedding run-through and
rehearsal dinner. Quinn chose a cool blue suit for his lover, Ian an
edible cream one. They helped each other into their jackets, knotting
ties with possessive authority.
The men had a few hours before their appointment, which they decided to spend revisiting old haunts.
The Embassy Suites Hotel was right on Bruckton Avenue, only a few
minutes from campus, where Mace Chapel was located. The walk over to the
chapel evoked pleasant memories; they hadn't realized that two and a
half years later, they'd remember their three-day stay so vividly.
The student union building drew them in, memories of walnut brownies
making their mouths water. The lines were much longer now, with the
semester in full swing, but they patiently waited and were rewarded when
Ian combined skim and chocolate milk in his signature blend.
The side room they'd originally taken was being used for a club
meeting, so they picked the only empty one they could find and set down
their trays with milk and brownies.
"Remember discussing Gandalf here?" Ian said, after taking a sip of milk.
Quinn smiled reminiscently. "Felt like I'd known you forever even then, lad."
Though their privacy was rather tenuous, Ian couldn't resist nipping
a few bites from Quinn's plate once more. Years of poaching had
confirmed his initial impression that food always tasted better there.
After eating, they walked by Mundi Hall, in which they'd heard each
other lecture for the first time, professional respect strengthening
their attraction. Both could still remember snatches of one another's
speech.
A block away, they stopped in their tracks. Before them was the dorm
where they'd first made love. They were able to pick out the windows of
the suite that had welcomed their tentative caresses, rooms that had
felt tantalizingly familiar, though they'd never seen them before.
Their long-ago cries seemed to echo in the air around them.
Ian laced Quinn's fingers with his own, and they stood hand in hand,
not quite believing they were actually doing it. Their fingers were
entwined in public.
Nothing happened.
It was easier to relax at a different campus in another state. Ian's
hand felt warm within Quinn's, despite the chill of twilight.
A couple of students trudged by, books and papers weighing them
down, but the dinner rush still prevailed in the commons, so the
sidewalks were mostly clear.
Galliant Hall, its telescope faintly silhouetted against the
gloaming, caught their eye next. They'd shared starlit confidences there
on that magical May evening a lifetime ago, the conversation just
waiting to be resumed.
Since it was only 6:10, they found themselves alone atop the
bulding, the welcome coolness of dusk wrapping around them. Quinn wanted
Ian wrapped around him too and immediately took him into his arms,
kissing his temple under the stars.
The men were glad of their suit jackets now, with the wind picking
up. They nestled into each other's familiar warmth, craving it as
always.
"Ah, lad." Quinn nuzzled Ian's left ear. "All the things I'd never said before..."
Deeply moved, Ian remembered Quinn's confession of his Jesuit
vocation, rechanneled by his own natural drives into academics, lifework
and love thankfully converging with the advent of Ian. He tightened his
arms around Quinn. "Me too. I was just waiting for you to hear them."
The telescope was covered in sailcloth to guard it from the
elements. Ian hoped the astronomers wouldn't mind if they made brief use
of the cloth. He untied the knots, and together the men spread it over
the slates to protect their suits.
They sat down on the same spot they'd picked before, naturally
curling into each other's arms once again. Ian soon found out that he
was not the only one who remembered an early career preference.
"Y'know, you may not be based at the U.N., but you're a diplomat anyway, Ian." Quinn stroked a lucky curl on Ian's forehead.
"You really think so?" Ian said, delighted with Quinn's opinion of him.
"How many times have you made peace at committee meetings? Who
expertly negotiated office hours with a recalcitrant colleague, eh?"
Quinn's fingers burrowed under Ian's jacket to squeeze his linen-clad
waist.
Ian's chuckle enlivened the clear night air. "Too true. Guess I've
found my real calling, with you." Ian couldn't see Quinn's flush of
pleasure but could feel its heat on his own cheek.
Quinn kissed him then, long and deep. "With me."
Ian's watch beeping at the top of the hour was the only thing that broke their embrace. Their family was waiting for them.
Luckily, Galliant Hall was next to the Mace Chapel. They'd hardly
noticed it on their first visit, but now it had become the center of
their universe. Greystone like its neighbors, the chapel was rich in
architectural detail, down to its mullioned windows, and richer in its
tradition of marrying alumni and faculty alike.
Quinn had spoken to the chaplain by phone and explained their
situation. Father Dale Corgan had already performed a few same-sex
unions, since state legislation had made it possible to do so, and was
happy to oblige them.
The rest of the immediate family was seated in the oaken pews,
rising to hug the professors upon their arrival. After the
introductions, the cleric took the men into his office for a private
talk.
"The only things I ask of my couples are to be good to each other
and to treat this as the lifetime commitment it most certainly is."
"We will," said Quinn seriously, as if he were taking his vows already.
"Yes, Father," said Ian, an earnest light in his eyes.
Corgan shook their hands with enthusiasm, then returned to the
others, giving the couple privacy. The little room had seen more than
its share of kisses, for a priest's office.
As soon as the chaplain had closed the door after him, Quinn and Ian were in each other's arms, kissing impulsively.
"We're gettin' married tomorrow," Ian said, amazed that the long-anticipated day had almost arrived.
"Can't wait," whispered Quinn.
The men embraced for a long moment, powerful arms crushing them
together, then straightening ties while they took steadying breaths. If
they were a little flushed, the low candlelight in the chapel hid it
nicely. They went out to the others to go over where everyone would
stand and what they'd do during the ceremony.
Afterwards, they all headed to Mamma Depa's for the rehearsal
dinner. Ian had booked a private room for their party, a total of
twenty-four guests, with the rest expected tomorrow for the wedding
itself. They were arranged in three tables of eight, with a lot of
cross-pollination.
The prospective grooms' tablemates were their immediate family and Bant. Jo and Kathy had selected the table placements well.
"Your last night of freedom, eh, guys?" Monty grinned into his chianti.
"Actually, we're free starting tomorrow." Ian's pensive voice held no trace of humor.
Quinn took Ian's temporarily ringless hand in his own, dismayed that
he had denied Ian this for so long. Ian squeezed back, accepting his
mute apology.
"Free, lad," Quinn said, locking eyes with Ian.
The sobered Monty pondered the truth of his brothers' words. He'd
never really thought of just how difficult it had been for them, having
to hide their love under the cloak of friendship.
When he'd seen them kiss on the bike path, Monty had marveled at the
raw passion of it, having glimpsed no other evidence of this in all the
time he'd known Quinn. Never comfortable considering anyone's love life
save his own, he'd been happily ignoring the physical side of their
relationship until then. He'd come home to Kathy's hug, her soft arms
the opposite of Quinn's heavy strength. What must his brother feel
within those massive arms? Intellectual awareness and visceral knowledge
were two different things. Now that he'd seen the sparks of their
banked fire, Monty realized he'd taken a lot for granted in his own
marriage.
Simple pleasures he shared with Kathy -- walking arm in arm down the
street, a brush of fingers, the use of pet names in company -- all had
been off-limits to Quinn and Ian for years now. And just because they'd
come out at work, he didn't see that changing.
He'd like to think they could walk hand in hand down Luke's Green
Row, where the original buildings from the late 1700s stood. Though he
could picture it, Monty couldn't imagine them really doing it. Their
recent stroll through the Mace campus would have surprised him.
Kathy noticed Monty's abstraction and patted his arm. She'd actually
shivered when Ian had said 'free'. Monty hadn't told her about the bike
path kiss, unwilling to violate his brothers' privacy any further, so
that experience had not affected her. But she had always been a sister
to them nonetheless, and when she'd heard the depth of feeling in their
voices, her bare arms tingled with gooseflesh.
When she and Monty had stuck to their decision to name Ian as
Lelia's godfather, the men had opened up to her all the more. She was
glad that Lelia would have them as an example of a loving couple, just
as she had both sets of grandparents.
Jo's reaction was a bit more complicated. She'd seen this coming for
a long time now, since their first wearing of the rings on that
memorable Fourth of July over a year ago. She, more than anyone else,
had considered the risks the men were taking, as well as the rewards,
and had a gut feeling that they were worth it.
Every time she saw Ian give Quinn an unguarded smile, her support
for their new openness grew. She remembered the exuberant hugs he'd
given her as a child and was glad that his natural affection had such a
perfect outlet. Their marriage, like all the others in the family, would
be rock solid.
Looking over at Keith, she saw him nod when their sons talked of
freedom. He had raised his boys to have respect for their country and
everything she stood for, and the bedrock principle, as far as Keith was
concerned, was freedom. Now he was seeing his sons reach for it with
both hands and was fortunate enough to be part of the celebration.
Bant had been there at the very beginning of their relationship, so
to see its evolution was satisfying to her. She'd never have predicted
that her reticent professor would take this public step, though the
genial Ian had certainly had a leavening effect on him over time.
Lelia just enjoyed dozing on Quinn's lap as the rehearsal dinner wound down.
Guests came by to wish the grooms well before they left, a sparkle
in their eyes unique to wedding celebrations. When the last of them had
gone, Ian and Quinn sat in the quiet room and pressed noses. As they
stood up, Ian reached for a white carnation from the centerpiece, and
tucked it into the buttonhole on Quinn's lapel, inspiring Quinn to do
the same.
"Nin daer (My husband)," Ian said, just as he'd done in bed before
the run-through, but this time in Sindarin. He kissed Quinn softly,
tasting the cinnamon in his tiramisu.
"Lle (Yours)," said Quinn, catching on instantly. He nuzzled into
Ian's palm, enjoying the fresh scent of the flower mingled with a bit of
his sweat.
At long last, it would be legally true on the morrow.