(Two years, exactly)
Patrick couldn't decide if it was a wonderfully good idea, or a cheesy shitty one, to get married on the anniversary of when they began dating.
But right now, anything felt like a good idea, because fuck, they were getting fucking married, and Jesus Christ if Pete heard him cussing like this he wouldn't live to see tomorrow, but, fuck, they were getting fucking married.
And Patrick was fucking terrified.
"Patrick, chill out, you look like you're about to pass out," the vocalists brother, Kevin, informed him, straightening the little bow tie around his neck.
"I might," Patrick responded, and he was only half kidding. He looked good, at least. He hoped. A white suit, his hair done up all nice, and he swore he was going to cry, because every time he looked in the mirror it brought a little bit more reality to the situation.
He's getting married.
He should have known this would happen. He's an average guy, and average people are bound to lives of simplicity, which includes the inevitable act of marriage, kids, and dying.
So why was this so anxiety inducing?
For all he knows, Pete might change his mind on the alter, or might not even show up. He hadn't seen him since this morning, almost all day they'd been getting ready, so who the fuck knows where he is now.
But he could hear the music starting, and a planner was telling him he needed to go out now, as in right now, and walk down the fucking isle with his nieces and nephews throwing flowers all over the fucking place (it was adorable, he couldn't deny), and stand right in front of his soon to be husband.
What if he forgot his vows? What if he forgot what to do? Oh God, what if --
"Will the grooms please recite their vows?"
FUCK, HOW DID HE GET UP HERE SO QUICK?
Patrick could feel his heart in his throat, and he thanked the lord above him that Pete went first.
Pete.
Pete looked incredible, as expected. A standard black and white tux, but it was so pristine and nice, nicer than anything Patrick's ever seen him wear, and Jesus, his face-- he was practically fucking glowing, and he was radiating happiness-
"I, Peter Wentz, take you, Patrick Stump, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part. Without your love I am incomplete, only with you as my husband can I feel whole, right, and connected to a meaning beyond myself. It is you that teaches me to understand true faith and harmony. Some people say that love gives them wings, but you, my husband, you ground me. People talk about perfection, but to me you are my amazing reality, I love you because of, not in spite of, your flaws - because I see you try to overcome any troubles and you inspire me to overcome my own. Together we will work to make this imperfect reality a little more beautiful, a little more miraculous, and a little more us. I love you."
Patrick was beyond words. He- his- Pete wrote that? Pete.. Oh Jesus. His vow was going to be-
"And Patrick, your vows."
Right. Of course. He could do this.
The smaller blonde inhaled, before he began with a shaking voice.
"I, Patrick Stump, t...take you, Peter Wentz, for my lawful husband, to h-have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for wor-worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness a-and health, until death do us part," he swallowed down the lump in his throat, Pete's heart felt expression the only ale to his anxiety, "I-I admire how you are fearless - you are not afraid to be yourself. I promise to always encourage you and to try to keep a l-light heart and a sense of humor. I will be honest, respectful and supportive in your dreams and goals. But most of all, I promise to trust and love you with all my heart, as your husband, and cherish you with all my soul forever and ever." It's almost over Patrick, you got this. "I... vow to appreciate each day how lucky I am to have a man who makes me feel the way you do - beautiful, cherished and loved - and I will always work to make you feel as special and wonderful as I do each moment that we are together for the rest of our lives. I love you."
There was a collective silence, and a few tears strolled down Pete's cheek, Patrick quickly wiping them off and wanting nothing more than to kiss Pete and fucking marry him already, before the officiant gathered himself enough to continue with the ceremony.
"Do you, Pete, pledge to create a life of mutual respect, compassion, generosity, and patience toward each other as you grow together in years?"
"I do."
"And do you, Patrick, pledge to create a life of mutual respect, compassion, generosity and patience toward each other as you grow together in years?"
"Yes- I mean, I do." Fuck.
"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now announce you married. You may kiss the groom."
And he fucking did, and it was fucking incredible, and Patrick didn't think it was possible, but it was probably better than the kiss(es) he earned on the night of the proposal.
A riot of cheers, 'congratulations!', rice, some flowers, more yelling and kissing later, they're in the limo that takes them to the after party.
The party was nothing short of incredible. It ended with Pete and Patrick both covered in cake, 'good dancing' (yeah right), and gentle kisses. But now. Now they were home, now they were home, in their bed, and there was no way in hell Patrick was getting out of what Pete had planned.
