Viva Las Vegas (PG, JP/KB)
title: Viva Las Vegas
pairing: Jared Padalecki/Kristen Bell
rating: PG
notes: Okay, so this isn't exactly the wedding, but it had to be written anyway. (And a small note at the end of fic, so as not to entirely spoil. But, um, the title is pretty much a dead give away, right?)
After he asks her twice and after she says ‘no’ once and then ‘yes’ the time after that, they tentatively start to plan a wedding.
Jared wants some big backyard southern affair with tuxes and ties and waiters and a little six-piece orchestra and some improbably cliché drink like mint juleps. Kristen, on the other hand, is kind of sold on a beach wedding, barefoot and maybe in Hawaii so there can be immature and inappropriate jokes about “getting leid”.
And when she tells him, he laughs, because they totally have the same sense of humour, and then asks her half-way incredulously, “For real?”
“C’mon.” She gives a small and hard push of her elbow into his stomach and then points a finger and says, “Do you see this face? It’s my serious face. Used only for serious occasions.” She sighs a bit, trying not to sound like she’s whining. “Jay, just think about a ceremony on the beach. All intimate with a pretty sunset and sand between your toes and the sound of the waves. How romantic would that be?”
“I’m thinking it’d be just as romantic under the trees in San Antonio, Kris.”
She makes another face. It looks less like a serious face and more like an unimpressed face. “Ugh. You’re such a girl.”
“I’m such a girl?” he repeats. He smiles broadly, eyebrows lifting a little, and hangs an arm across her shoulders. “So, if I’m such a girl, that means all this time I’ve been having incredibly hot lesbian sex and didn’t even know? Well, darling, you just made my night.”
Kristen smiles and tucks her hand under the hem of his shirt and rubs her thumb over the start of his hip. He responds by moving his hands into her hair and pressing light kisses along the top of her brow and then down to her nose.
“And let the hot lesbian sex countdown begin. Five. Four. Three-”
She pulls herself away and ducks out of his reach, looking up at him with the smile on her mouth now sweetly fake.
“Nope. I take it back, you’re all man.”
His eyebrows lift a little higher and he smiles a little broader. “I thought you loved how much man I am.”
“I do,” she says. “Trust me, I do.” She unsuccessfully tries to hide a smirk and then lets one of her hands fall against the flat of his stomach. “I just think this is something we should, you know, think about.”
“What’s something we should think about? Lesbian sex?”
“What? No. Maybe.” She chews her lower lip distractedly, drumming her fingers on his chest. “What about Vegas?”
“What about Vegas?” he asks.
“What about getting married in Vegas?”
Jared shifts beneath her and Kristen moves with him, curling herself around him: legs over hips and arms over shoulders. He doesn’t answer, but instead purposefully pulls a chunk of hair out of her ponytail and starts to wind and then unwind it around his forefinger. After a minute or two (or maybe it was just a really long twenty-six seconds) he stops playing with her hair and puts his hand on the back of her neck and starts to rub out hard knots of tired muscle.
“You serious?” he asks her.
She looks up at him. “What did I tell you about the face?”
“So,” he says, an unsure smirk on his mouth as he tries to work out exactly what she’s getting at, “you want to elope?”
“No. I want to compromise.”
“And how is Vegas a compromise?”
“We’re driving down to Texas in the summer anyway, right? So, we’ll just take the scenic route. Go right through Nevada.” Kristen straightens out one arm in front of her and stares at a non-existent horizon, then drops her arm back over Jared’s shoulder and shrugs. “And then we can have a backyard in San Antonio and a beach in Hawaii.”
He laughs. “You want to have three weddings? Are you crazy?”
“Oh my god!” She gives him a look that’s something akin to mock-terror that quickly dissolves into an almost sardonic smile. “Did I forget to tell you that when we started dating?”
Another laugh and, “I don’t know, Kris.”
She curls her body tighter around his, presses a kiss to the crook of his neck and says, “Well, maybe we’ll just see how it goes. Okay? We’ll play it by ear. We’ll fly by the seat of our pants. We’ll do other idioms involving body parts and/or clothing.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, nodding.
“I’ve gotta tell you, though. Now I’ve kind of got my heart set on Elvis.”
Jared smiles. “Well, c’mon. Who doesn’t love the king?”
Instead of hugging the Arizona border, Jared makes a detour down highway 95.
“Taking the scenic route,” he tells her.
From the passenger seat, Kristen lets a smirk work its way onto her lips and says, “Viva Las Vegas.”
--
So, I totally wanted to write the actually wedding (well, one of) and had this idea in my head that it'd be at The Chapel of Love and there'd be an Elvis impersonator (all of this exists, I swear), but it turned out to be far more ambitiously awesome than I could manage. Oh, well.
pairing: Jared Padalecki/Kristen Bell
rating: PG
notes: Okay, so this isn't exactly the wedding, but it had to be written anyway. (And a small note at the end of fic, so as not to entirely spoil. But, um, the title is pretty much a dead give away, right?)
After he asks her twice and after she says ‘no’ once and then ‘yes’ the time after that, they tentatively start to plan a wedding.
Jared wants some big backyard southern affair with tuxes and ties and waiters and a little six-piece orchestra and some improbably cliché drink like mint juleps. Kristen, on the other hand, is kind of sold on a beach wedding, barefoot and maybe in Hawaii so there can be immature and inappropriate jokes about “getting leid”.
And when she tells him, he laughs, because they totally have the same sense of humour, and then asks her half-way incredulously, “For real?”
“C’mon.” She gives a small and hard push of her elbow into his stomach and then points a finger and says, “Do you see this face? It’s my serious face. Used only for serious occasions.” She sighs a bit, trying not to sound like she’s whining. “Jay, just think about a ceremony on the beach. All intimate with a pretty sunset and sand between your toes and the sound of the waves. How romantic would that be?”
“I’m thinking it’d be just as romantic under the trees in San Antonio, Kris.”
She makes another face. It looks less like a serious face and more like an unimpressed face. “Ugh. You’re such a girl.”
“I’m such a girl?” he repeats. He smiles broadly, eyebrows lifting a little, and hangs an arm across her shoulders. “So, if I’m such a girl, that means all this time I’ve been having incredibly hot lesbian sex and didn’t even know? Well, darling, you just made my night.”
Kristen smiles and tucks her hand under the hem of his shirt and rubs her thumb over the start of his hip. He responds by moving his hands into her hair and pressing light kisses along the top of her brow and then down to her nose.
“And let the hot lesbian sex countdown begin. Five. Four. Three-”
She pulls herself away and ducks out of his reach, looking up at him with the smile on her mouth now sweetly fake.
“Nope. I take it back, you’re all man.”
His eyebrows lift a little higher and he smiles a little broader. “I thought you loved how much man I am.”
“I do,” she says. “Trust me, I do.” She unsuccessfully tries to hide a smirk and then lets one of her hands fall against the flat of his stomach. “I just think this is something we should, you know, think about.”
“What’s something we should think about? Lesbian sex?”
“What? No. Maybe.” She chews her lower lip distractedly, drumming her fingers on his chest. “What about Vegas?”
“What about Vegas?” he asks.
“What about getting married in Vegas?”
Jared shifts beneath her and Kristen moves with him, curling herself around him: legs over hips and arms over shoulders. He doesn’t answer, but instead purposefully pulls a chunk of hair out of her ponytail and starts to wind and then unwind it around his forefinger. After a minute or two (or maybe it was just a really long twenty-six seconds) he stops playing with her hair and puts his hand on the back of her neck and starts to rub out hard knots of tired muscle.
“You serious?” he asks her.
She looks up at him. “What did I tell you about the face?”
“So,” he says, an unsure smirk on his mouth as he tries to work out exactly what she’s getting at, “you want to elope?”
“No. I want to compromise.”
“And how is Vegas a compromise?”
“We’re driving down to Texas in the summer anyway, right? So, we’ll just take the scenic route. Go right through Nevada.” Kristen straightens out one arm in front of her and stares at a non-existent horizon, then drops her arm back over Jared’s shoulder and shrugs. “And then we can have a backyard in San Antonio and a beach in Hawaii.”
He laughs. “You want to have three weddings? Are you crazy?”
“Oh my god!” She gives him a look that’s something akin to mock-terror that quickly dissolves into an almost sardonic smile. “Did I forget to tell you that when we started dating?”
Another laugh and, “I don’t know, Kris.”
She curls her body tighter around his, presses a kiss to the crook of his neck and says, “Well, maybe we’ll just see how it goes. Okay? We’ll play it by ear. We’ll fly by the seat of our pants. We’ll do other idioms involving body parts and/or clothing.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, nodding.
“I’ve gotta tell you, though. Now I’ve kind of got my heart set on Elvis.”
Jared smiles. “Well, c’mon. Who doesn’t love the king?”
Instead of hugging the Arizona border, Jared makes a detour down highway 95.
“Taking the scenic route,” he tells her.
From the passenger seat, Kristen lets a smirk work its way onto her lips and says, “Viva Las Vegas.”
--
So, I totally wanted to write the actually wedding (well, one of) and had this idea in my head that it'd be at The Chapel of Love and there'd be an Elvis impersonator (all of this exists, I swear), but it turned out to be far more ambitiously awesome than I could manage. Oh, well.