Effin' YEAH.
So I've been trying to bash out Chapter 4 of Little Brothers for the past...oh...two months. And it really hasn't happened. But now that the new Miami season's started I've been more motivated (utterly Jossing LB fanon, no less), and Chapter 4 has been clinging to my mind like used gum at the bottom of my cafeteria table (true and unpleasant story). I figured that, since I had nothing due tomorrow, I'd better just get it done today. Otherwise, I'd end up wasting time on it all day tomorrow and I've got crap to do tomorrow. I'd rather just get it done with.
Of course, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter - needs more Raymond. (Never thought I'd say that, huh?) So I'll end up tinkering with it anyway. But at least this is a start.
Oh, and I've got some thoughts on how I'm going to handle Season 6 canon, but right now I need to shower and go to bed, so I'll talk on that later (in the unlikely even that anyone at all cares).
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Little Brothers
Chapter 4: Wedding
Horatio: 28
Raymond: 24
-----
If Horatio hadn’t known better, he would have thought Raymond was actually nervous about this. He had parked himself in front of the mirror for the past hour, adjusting his bow tie, fiddling with the carnation in his lapel, tugging on the edges of his tuxedo.
“Think I’m okay?” He asked, straightening his cuffs.
“You look fine, if that’s what you mean,” Horatio replied, putting on his own jacket. “Besides,” he added with a smile, “nobody’s going to be looking at you.”
“Good point.” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “That reminds me, would you mind checking up on Yelina and the bridesmaids? She won’t let me see her before the wedding.”
“Right away.” Horatio headed for the door, but not before stopping and pointing at his brother. “And Ray? Don’t screw this up.”
Ray laughed. “Horatio, I never screw up. I improvise.”
“Well, don’t improvise, either.” And with that, he headed out the door.
Ray returned to the mirror. He couldn’t say he was nervous, because there weren’t a whole lot of mistakes he could possibly make. He’d already shown up sober and in a tuxedo that fit; after that it was just speaking when prompted and heading home with his bride.
Of course, he’d managed to remain calm mostly by not thinking about the fact that he was, indeed, getting married.
He’d finally hit one of those Life Milestones. He was getting started on that real life thing everyone kept talking about.
That made him nervous.
He’d already been practically married to Yelina for months now anyway; they did everything short of living together, and they spent so much time at one another’s homes that but for a lack of suitable paperwork they would have been doing that too. What purpose did all this ceremony serve, except as a distance marker on his life?
But the Salas family had insisted, so here he was, about to sit through an hour-long Mass and an hour-long ceremony and an interminable reception during which he had nothing to look forward to but greeting relatives that he would never see again. And he’d do it in a solid-black tuxedo with narry a cigarette in sight.
It was going to be a long day.
-----
Horatio knocked once on the door to the women’s dressing room; he heard laughter inside, and Yelina’s voice answered.
“For the last time, Ray, you can’t see me before the wedding! Go away!”
“Wrong brother.”
“Oh!” After a few seconds, Yelina appeared at the door. “Sorry. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s been in here.”
“Actually, I would,” Horatio said with a smile. “Raymond just wanted to see if you were ready.”
“Almost.” She opened the door all the way and indicated her dress. “How do I look?”
Horatio paused. The dress was certainly beautiful, neither too plain nor too gaudy, and her veil trailed around her face like an earthbound cloud, but he was still unused to seeing Yelina in anything other than the suit she wore to work. It was strange enough when she wore skirts and short-sleeved blouses; in her full, formal gown she looked like a different person.
“You look great,” he said, without elaborating. “Your veil’s a little crooked, though - here, let me get that…”
“Yelina!” A bridesmaid whose name he couldn’t remember came running up to the door. The bridesmaids - the entire wedding party, really, except for him - were all from Yelina’s side of the family, but he’d neglected to learn exactly who they all were and how they were related. He knew that the maid of honor was Yelina’s sister and the first bridesmaid was some undefined cousin, but beyond that they were all just faces in peach-colored silk. “Do you know where my bouquet is? I haven’t seen it all day!”
“They’re all on that middle table, Claudia, that’s right where I left them,” Yelina replied, turning to face the bridesmaid and pulling her veil even further off-center.
“Well, they’re not there anymore. Everyone else has theirs, and - ”
Someone yelled “Somebody missing a bouquet?” somewhere in the back of the room; Horatio vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to the maid of honor. Claudia darted back out of sight. Yelina turned back to him, an exhausted smile on her face. “Sorry,” she said. “We’re all a little nervous.”
“Are you?” He asked as he finished straightening her veil.
“A little, yes. I mean…it is my wedding.” She gave a small laugh. “Why? Is Raymond?”
“You know, I’m not sure. He’s uneasy, if that helps.”
“I figured.” She paused in the doorway. “I’ve still got to finish getting dressed, so…”
“Yeah.” Horatio nodded. “Yeah. I’d better get back, too.”
“I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“See you then.”
-----
One hour, twenty-six minutes and counting.
They’d already sat through the Mass, which was exactly like every other Mass Raymond had ever sat through in his life, but with a longer sermon and more off-key tenors in the congregation (if he never heard Uncle Alberto massacre another Communion hymn, it would be far too soon). And then someone had to calm down the flower girl, because she’d gotten restless and run off (she was all of five; what did they expect?)
But somehow, they’d all lasted and made it to the important part. And his vows were most certainly not this lengthy the first time they’d rehearsed, but Yelina was smiling as bright as the noon sun, and it was hard to stay cranky when she looked like that.
What was it about women and weddings, anyway? Yelina couldn’t be happier, the bridesmaids were beaming, and Yelina’s mother was weeping theatrically into a handkerchief in the third pew somewhere. Did they not get bored with all the ceremony, or were they just better at faking it?
He glanced back at his brother, who gave him a reassuring grin. If he was as deathly bored as Ray was, he wasn’t showing it.
The reverend was asking for the rings; Ray snapped out of his stupor just in time to reach for the ring-bearer’s pillow. Somewhere behind him, his mother-in-law let out another sob.
Jesus, was the thought of him as a son-in-law that bad?
-----
Horatio had been dreading this. The best man’s job was fairly simple: give pep talks to the groom, look decent in a suit, lead the maid of honor around on your arm. All straightforward.
Except for two things: the toast and the dance.
He figured he’d think of something appropriately embarrassing to say about his brother once the moment came, but right now, seventy-five percent of the family was staring expectantly at him and the glass of champagne in his hand, and he had nothing to say.
Maybe if he just stood here and didn’t say anything they’d give up and look somewhere else. Not a fantastic plan, but better than dropping the champagne and leaving.
“Ah…” He looked down at the champagne flute. “Raymond, I suppose congratulations are in order.” Good, good start, you can keep going from there…
“Now that you’ve managed to find someone who can stand you.” Good, they were laughing. This might not go too badly.
“I have to say, I wasn’t very hopeful when you told me…told me you’d met Yelina at a crime scene.” Pause, see if anyone laughs. “But, look at you both now.”
What else was there to say, really, at least that he could say in front of all these people he didn’t know? ‘I’m glad you didn’t turn out maladjusted’, maybe? ‘Nice to know one of us is capable of a functional relationship’?
“Mom and Dad would have been proud of you, Raymond,” he said, holding up the champagne glass. “I know I am.” There. He’d finally done it - finally referred to their father in the past tense. Now all the old man had to do was die. “To your new life.”
The rest of the room - including the twenty-five percent that had mercifully not been listening - raised their glasses in response.
The reception, for the most part, passed in a blur from that point. He was introduced and introduced again to relatives he could barely distinguish from one another; food was served; cake was cut; more toasts were made; Raymond and Yelina took to the dance floor, and Horatio found to his surprise that his brother had bothered to learn how to dance (very well, for that matter).
About two-and-a-half hours in, while trapped in small talk with yet another roving band of in-laws, he caught his brother’s eye. Raymond was accepting handshakes, hugs, and various congratulations from (if Horatio remembered correctly) Cousin Michael and Tia Marta and their cousin…he was blanking out on her name.
Over Michael’s head, Raymond looked at him, and mouthed the words Help me.
He walked over with a smile. “Excuse me - you mind if I borrow my brother for a moment?”
Once outside the church, Raymond sighed and leaned against a wall. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, as if he’d been waiting all day for the chance to blaspheme. “How does she stand having all this family? It’s like they’re multiplying behind my back or something - new cousin crawls out of the ventilation ducts while I’m not looking. You got a smoke?”
“Anything for you, brother.” Horatio pulled a pack out of his pocket; someone would have noticed it in the pocket of the groom. “So you’re not enjoying your wedding day?”
“I never said I wasn’t enjoying it, Horatio.” Raymond pulled a lighter somewhere from the recesses of his tux and lit the cigarette. “It’s just…exhausting. Only so much festivity a guy can take, you know?”
“I know what you mean.” He glanced at his brother. “Are you happy?”
“Huh?”
“Are you happy?”
“Course I’m happy, Horatio; why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I am marrying the most wonderful woman in the world.” He grinned, and twirled the lit cigarette between his fingers.
Horatio laughed. “I am proud of you, Raymond,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Ray’s grin faded to a smile, and he looked at the ground. “Thanks.”
They didn’t speak after that; Horatio stared out at the street as Ray burned the cigarette down to the filter. Grey smoke mingled with ozone and dust, disappearing almost as soon as it left his lips.
“You’d better get back in there before your wife misses you.” Horatio said at last, as the last ashes burned down.
“She’s got the rest of her life to get sick of me, Horatio.” He dropped the stub into a nearby ashtray. “I’d think she’d like a couple minutes away from me.”
-----
He took Yelina by the waist as they walked up to their house. “We’re married.” He said, smiling.
“We certainly are.” She wrapped her own arm around him and leaned in close. “You’re officially stuck with me for life.”
“I thought I was anyway.”
“You were. But now it’s official.” They stopped at the door. “You’re not going to carry me over the threshold?” She asked.
He sighed. “I have to carry you, now? Honestly, Yelina, making me do all the work…”
“Excuse me,” she tapped him on the nose. “Which one of us planned this wedding? Which of us picked out the dresses? Sent out all those invitations? I think I’ve earned the right to be carried over the threshold of my house if I want to be.”
“Fine, fine. Up you go.” He reached out an arm to catch her as she leaped up - and staggered melodramatically under her weight. “Ugh…oh God…oh, I think someone had too much wedding cake…”
“Shut up, Raymond.” She laughed as he stumbled over to the door, opened it one-handed, and set her down inside. “There, see? Was that so hard?”
“You have no idea, dearest.” He said, kissing her lightly on the lips. “It was a burden every step of the way.”
“I’m sure it was.” She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sure it was just unbearable.”
-----
Of course, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter - needs more Raymond. (Never thought I'd say that, huh?) So I'll end up tinkering with it anyway. But at least this is a start.
Oh, and I've got some thoughts on how I'm going to handle Season 6 canon, but right now I need to shower and go to bed, so I'll talk on that later (in the unlikely even that anyone at all cares).
-----
Little Brothers
Chapter 4: Wedding
Horatio: 28
Raymond: 24
-----
If Horatio hadn’t known better, he would have thought Raymond was actually nervous about this. He had parked himself in front of the mirror for the past hour, adjusting his bow tie, fiddling with the carnation in his lapel, tugging on the edges of his tuxedo.
“Think I’m okay?” He asked, straightening his cuffs.
“You look fine, if that’s what you mean,” Horatio replied, putting on his own jacket. “Besides,” he added with a smile, “nobody’s going to be looking at you.”
“Good point.” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “That reminds me, would you mind checking up on Yelina and the bridesmaids? She won’t let me see her before the wedding.”
“Right away.” Horatio headed for the door, but not before stopping and pointing at his brother. “And Ray? Don’t screw this up.”
Ray laughed. “Horatio, I never screw up. I improvise.”
“Well, don’t improvise, either.” And with that, he headed out the door.
Ray returned to the mirror. He couldn’t say he was nervous, because there weren’t a whole lot of mistakes he could possibly make. He’d already shown up sober and in a tuxedo that fit; after that it was just speaking when prompted and heading home with his bride.
Of course, he’d managed to remain calm mostly by not thinking about the fact that he was, indeed, getting married.
He’d finally hit one of those Life Milestones. He was getting started on that real life thing everyone kept talking about.
That made him nervous.
He’d already been practically married to Yelina for months now anyway; they did everything short of living together, and they spent so much time at one another’s homes that but for a lack of suitable paperwork they would have been doing that too. What purpose did all this ceremony serve, except as a distance marker on his life?
But the Salas family had insisted, so here he was, about to sit through an hour-long Mass and an hour-long ceremony and an interminable reception during which he had nothing to look forward to but greeting relatives that he would never see again. And he’d do it in a solid-black tuxedo with narry a cigarette in sight.
It was going to be a long day.
-----
Horatio knocked once on the door to the women’s dressing room; he heard laughter inside, and Yelina’s voice answered.
“For the last time, Ray, you can’t see me before the wedding! Go away!”
“Wrong brother.”
“Oh!” After a few seconds, Yelina appeared at the door. “Sorry. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s been in here.”
“Actually, I would,” Horatio said with a smile. “Raymond just wanted to see if you were ready.”
“Almost.” She opened the door all the way and indicated her dress. “How do I look?”
Horatio paused. The dress was certainly beautiful, neither too plain nor too gaudy, and her veil trailed around her face like an earthbound cloud, but he was still unused to seeing Yelina in anything other than the suit she wore to work. It was strange enough when she wore skirts and short-sleeved blouses; in her full, formal gown she looked like a different person.
“You look great,” he said, without elaborating. “Your veil’s a little crooked, though - here, let me get that…”
“Yelina!” A bridesmaid whose name he couldn’t remember came running up to the door. The bridesmaids - the entire wedding party, really, except for him - were all from Yelina’s side of the family, but he’d neglected to learn exactly who they all were and how they were related. He knew that the maid of honor was Yelina’s sister and the first bridesmaid was some undefined cousin, but beyond that they were all just faces in peach-colored silk. “Do you know where my bouquet is? I haven’t seen it all day!”
“They’re all on that middle table, Claudia, that’s right where I left them,” Yelina replied, turning to face the bridesmaid and pulling her veil even further off-center.
“Well, they’re not there anymore. Everyone else has theirs, and - ”
Someone yelled “Somebody missing a bouquet?” somewhere in the back of the room; Horatio vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to the maid of honor. Claudia darted back out of sight. Yelina turned back to him, an exhausted smile on her face. “Sorry,” she said. “We’re all a little nervous.”
“Are you?” He asked as he finished straightening her veil.
“A little, yes. I mean…it is my wedding.” She gave a small laugh. “Why? Is Raymond?”
“You know, I’m not sure. He’s uneasy, if that helps.”
“I figured.” She paused in the doorway. “I’ve still got to finish getting dressed, so…”
“Yeah.” Horatio nodded. “Yeah. I’d better get back, too.”
“I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“See you then.”
-----
One hour, twenty-six minutes and counting.
They’d already sat through the Mass, which was exactly like every other Mass Raymond had ever sat through in his life, but with a longer sermon and more off-key tenors in the congregation (if he never heard Uncle Alberto massacre another Communion hymn, it would be far too soon). And then someone had to calm down the flower girl, because she’d gotten restless and run off (she was all of five; what did they expect?)
But somehow, they’d all lasted and made it to the important part. And his vows were most certainly not this lengthy the first time they’d rehearsed, but Yelina was smiling as bright as the noon sun, and it was hard to stay cranky when she looked like that.
What was it about women and weddings, anyway? Yelina couldn’t be happier, the bridesmaids were beaming, and Yelina’s mother was weeping theatrically into a handkerchief in the third pew somewhere. Did they not get bored with all the ceremony, or were they just better at faking it?
He glanced back at his brother, who gave him a reassuring grin. If he was as deathly bored as Ray was, he wasn’t showing it.
The reverend was asking for the rings; Ray snapped out of his stupor just in time to reach for the ring-bearer’s pillow. Somewhere behind him, his mother-in-law let out another sob.
Jesus, was the thought of him as a son-in-law that bad?
-----
Horatio had been dreading this. The best man’s job was fairly simple: give pep talks to the groom, look decent in a suit, lead the maid of honor around on your arm. All straightforward.
Except for two things: the toast and the dance.
He figured he’d think of something appropriately embarrassing to say about his brother once the moment came, but right now, seventy-five percent of the family was staring expectantly at him and the glass of champagne in his hand, and he had nothing to say.
Maybe if he just stood here and didn’t say anything they’d give up and look somewhere else. Not a fantastic plan, but better than dropping the champagne and leaving.
“Ah…” He looked down at the champagne flute. “Raymond, I suppose congratulations are in order.” Good, good start, you can keep going from there…
“Now that you’ve managed to find someone who can stand you.” Good, they were laughing. This might not go too badly.
“I have to say, I wasn’t very hopeful when you told me…told me you’d met Yelina at a crime scene.” Pause, see if anyone laughs. “But, look at you both now.”
What else was there to say, really, at least that he could say in front of all these people he didn’t know? ‘I’m glad you didn’t turn out maladjusted’, maybe? ‘Nice to know one of us is capable of a functional relationship’?
“Mom and Dad would have been proud of you, Raymond,” he said, holding up the champagne glass. “I know I am.” There. He’d finally done it - finally referred to their father in the past tense. Now all the old man had to do was die. “To your new life.”
The rest of the room - including the twenty-five percent that had mercifully not been listening - raised their glasses in response.
The reception, for the most part, passed in a blur from that point. He was introduced and introduced again to relatives he could barely distinguish from one another; food was served; cake was cut; more toasts were made; Raymond and Yelina took to the dance floor, and Horatio found to his surprise that his brother had bothered to learn how to dance (very well, for that matter).
About two-and-a-half hours in, while trapped in small talk with yet another roving band of in-laws, he caught his brother’s eye. Raymond was accepting handshakes, hugs, and various congratulations from (if Horatio remembered correctly) Cousin Michael and Tia Marta and their cousin…he was blanking out on her name.
Over Michael’s head, Raymond looked at him, and mouthed the words Help me.
He walked over with a smile. “Excuse me - you mind if I borrow my brother for a moment?”
Once outside the church, Raymond sighed and leaned against a wall. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, as if he’d been waiting all day for the chance to blaspheme. “How does she stand having all this family? It’s like they’re multiplying behind my back or something - new cousin crawls out of the ventilation ducts while I’m not looking. You got a smoke?”
“Anything for you, brother.” Horatio pulled a pack out of his pocket; someone would have noticed it in the pocket of the groom. “So you’re not enjoying your wedding day?”
“I never said I wasn’t enjoying it, Horatio.” Raymond pulled a lighter somewhere from the recesses of his tux and lit the cigarette. “It’s just…exhausting. Only so much festivity a guy can take, you know?”
“I know what you mean.” He glanced at his brother. “Are you happy?”
“Huh?”
“Are you happy?”
“Course I’m happy, Horatio; why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I am marrying the most wonderful woman in the world.” He grinned, and twirled the lit cigarette between his fingers.
Horatio laughed. “I am proud of you, Raymond,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Ray’s grin faded to a smile, and he looked at the ground. “Thanks.”
They didn’t speak after that; Horatio stared out at the street as Ray burned the cigarette down to the filter. Grey smoke mingled with ozone and dust, disappearing almost as soon as it left his lips.
“You’d better get back in there before your wife misses you.” Horatio said at last, as the last ashes burned down.
“She’s got the rest of her life to get sick of me, Horatio.” He dropped the stub into a nearby ashtray. “I’d think she’d like a couple minutes away from me.”
-----
He took Yelina by the waist as they walked up to their house. “We’re married.” He said, smiling.
“We certainly are.” She wrapped her own arm around him and leaned in close. “You’re officially stuck with me for life.”
“I thought I was anyway.”
“You were. But now it’s official.” They stopped at the door. “You’re not going to carry me over the threshold?” She asked.
He sighed. “I have to carry you, now? Honestly, Yelina, making me do all the work…”
“Excuse me,” she tapped him on the nose. “Which one of us planned this wedding? Which of us picked out the dresses? Sent out all those invitations? I think I’ve earned the right to be carried over the threshold of my house if I want to be.”
“Fine, fine. Up you go.” He reached out an arm to catch her as she leaped up - and staggered melodramatically under her weight. “Ugh…oh God…oh, I think someone had too much wedding cake…”
“Shut up, Raymond.” She laughed as he stumbled over to the door, opened it one-handed, and set her down inside. “There, see? Was that so hard?”
“You have no idea, dearest.” He said, kissing her lightly on the lips. “It was a burden every step of the way.”
“I’m sure it was.” She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sure it was just unbearable.”
-----