Tell me something, who could ask for more than to be living in a moment I would die for?
[[Forward-dated to Sunday afternoon. Party post. Open to everyone, even if you don't know the happy couple- this is as much a celebration of two years of survival as it is a wedding.]]
In a large, nondenominational church in Chicago, people are gathered for a celebration- the wedding of Desmond Descant and Martha Jones. Everything is decked out to the nines and the halls and the chapel are crowded with people, vying for seats or else standing against the back wall to observe the happy occasion.
The groom, himself, is at the front of the chapel in a handsome black zoot suit, because like hell is he gonna wear a tux. (He, at least, was convinced not to wear a hat.) He's nervous and keeps bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring at the crowd, searching for familiar faces. He's not entirely sure who all his... Groomspeople are, at this point (beyond Best Man!Dmitri and groomskitten!Luke), but he trusts Dmitri pulled through and he won't look like an idiot.
In a large, nondenominational church in Chicago, people are gathered for a celebration- the wedding of Desmond Descant and Martha Jones. Everything is decked out to the nines and the halls and the chapel are crowded with people, vying for seats or else standing against the back wall to observe the happy occasion.
The groom, himself, is at the front of the chapel in a handsome black zoot suit, because like hell is he gonna wear a tux. (He, at least, was convinced not to wear a hat.) He's nervous and keeps bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring at the crowd, searching for familiar faces. He's not entirely sure who all his... Groomspeople are, at this point (beyond Best Man!Dmitri and groomskitten!Luke), but he trusts Dmitri pulled through and he won't look like an idiot.