Wilby fic: Points In Common, Part 6, by kuonji (R)
Title: Points In Common, Part 6
Series: Points In Common
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters: Duck MacDonald, Buddy French, Dan Jarvis, Carol French, OMC, various
Pairings: Duck/Dan, Buddy/Carol
Category: character study, drama
Rating: R
Words: ~4400
Summary: In a flurry of activity, March comes upon them.
A/N: This is the final part for this story. Thank you to everyone for reading. Thanks especially to everyone who wrote such unfailingly encouraging comments. :)
Link to all parts:
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Interlude / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6
Points In Common
by kuonji
PART SIX
"Duck!" A swirl of icy, winter wind follows the other man inside. Duck stands up from the window table he's saving, just in time for his friend to throw his arms around him. "Christ on a crutch, Duck, how long has it been?"
"Eighteen years," he answers, barely believing it himself. He detaches himself from Tommy, happy but abashed by his friend's effusiveness, before waving him to sit. "How's Hollywood?"
"It's not the same as Vancouver. That's for sure." Tommy sits back and makes a show of looking around. "Boy, this town has changed, hasn't it? I saw the sign coming in. Four thousand people? We had, what, half that when we were growing up, eh?"
"You've changed, too," Duck can't help but observe.
He tries not to stare, but it's hard. Tommy's got two metal ball earrings glinting in one ear, and rings adorn three out of five of the fingers on his left hand, two of the other. He's still got the freckles, but his hair has been cut short and slicked back like a helmet. Duck thinks he has light makeup on. Eyeliner, at least. Only his mischievous smile keeps him from looking like a complete stranger.
The last time he had seen Tommy had been in Toronto, when Tommy had stopped to visit him. He'd been on the way back to Wilby to help his parents move out to Vancouver with him. They'd talked on the phone several times since then, but not only does Tommy live on the opposite coast, he keeps odd hours. He's also fully embraced the digital age, whereas Duck's crap at anything he can't touch with his hands. Tommy's aghast he still doesn't own a cell phone, much less a computer.
"I'm really sorry I can't make the wedding." Tommy's lively features show real sorrow. "It's times like this I wish I had a more regular schedule."
"Don't be sorry. An overseas job. That's a fantastic opportunity." Duck doesn't have a clue about the kind of world Tommy lives in now, but he's glad his best friend is making it.
Tommy's a set decorator, specializing in period productions. He says it's like interior decorating, only with more antique stores, garage sales, and research involved. He'd started out doing theater work, then landed a job in television. He's working on something Duck can't remember in Hollywood now, and then he's signed on for a two-month project in Europe.
"Hey, I'll be there in spirit, okay?" Tommy gives him that shy look he always used to as a kid, when he's flustered and making an effort to act natural.
"I'm glad you could visit at least."
"Me, too. Wow. I can't believe I'm sitting in Iggy's. We should go see the high school later. Is the Double Scoop still in business? Oh, how about the Watch? People were always talking about building on it."
Duck laughs. Tommy doesn't know. He has to work to recall how tiny and inconsequential Wilby had felt when he had lived on the mainland. "Yeah, it's still there."
"Is this your friend back from Hollywood, Duck?"
"Sandra! Yeah." Duck waves the woman over. "Tommy, you remember Sandra Anderson, right? She runs this place now."
"Holy shit. Sandra? You still look good... but I wouldn't have recognized you."
"Same here, bozo. That's what thirty years and a baby does to you."
Tommy laughs. "Thirty years, yes. Baby, no." He pats his own flat abdomen playfully. "So did you keep it?" Straightforward as always.
"Emily. Yes. She's a darling. She's at school right now."
"Hey, that's great. Must've been gossip central when you came back, huh?"
Sandra slides a smirk at Duck. "I think something else has trumped anything worth talking about in these parts lately. So, coffee?"
"Yeah, yeah, please. I'm a junkie." After Sandra leaves them alone and goes to the back, Tommy grins at Duck.
"So the wedding. Big news, I'm guessing?"
That's an understatement. "First or second page of the Island Sentinel every week." He takes a fortifying swig of coffee. "I think everyone in town knows what color socks I'm going to wear by now."
"You're some kind of superstar." Tommy's grinning really big. He takes his coffee black.
"It's a circus." Duck blows out a heavy sigh. "People are reading about us like it's some TV show. Everything in the op-eds is about us lately, and somebody's even tried to set fire to the presses to stop them from printing stories. The Sentinel loves it, of course. I'm hoping it'll all die down after a while."
Tommy shakes his head. "How are you holding up?"
"Okay. Better than when it first started." He can't help running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. "Damn, sometimes I almost wish..." Tommy raises his eyebrows.
"Hey, you want this, right? You know you don't have anything to prove. You were always big on being independent."
Duck supposes that's true.
"He's not pressuring you, is he? You can call it off. If you're not ready. I mean, just because you can get married doesn't mean you have to."
Duck laughs. Dan pressure him? Never happen. It'd taken six months to even get him to borrow one of Duck's shirts when he ran out. "No. We've both been waiting for this."
"Yes, we have. No cold feet, right, honeybunch?" Duck registers the rush of cold air against his back at the same time as he feels a hand on the nape of his neck. He twists around to smile at the man standing behind him.
"The mystery groom arrives!" Tommy looks over Dan's lanky form avidly, from the top of his dark green knit hat to the brown dress shoes he still favors. "Not bad, Duck. Not bad. He dresses better than you do, anyway."
Dan blushes.
"Hey, don't embarrass him." Duck hooks Dan's hand and pulls him into the empty chair next to his. He pulls Dan's hat off his head and leans in to add, in revenge, "Sweetiepie."
Dan's blush deepens. He touches his forehead against Duck's briefly -- their version of a brush of lips in public (though sometimes they do that, too, now) -- before sitting back. "Dan Jarvis," he introduces himself, holding out his hand.
"Tom Milligan. I guess Duck's told you about me?"
"It sounds like you have an interesting job."
"Yeah. I'm sorry I can't make the wedding. Duck and I were real tight back in high school. I really wish I could watch him get hitched."
"I know. I'm sorry, too."
"Is your family coming?"
"My brother's flying in for a day." Duck squeezes his hand under the table. Dan's parents and sister had politely declined to come. Even Steve had held out until the last minute.
"Yeah? He going to be best man?"
"Yes." That brings a smile to Dan's face. "He said that was the condition for him coming." They hadn't planned on having even that limited of a wedding party, since the courthouse had stated that they could provide the necessary witnesses. When put that way, however, the choice had been simple. If Steve needs the excuse, Duck is more than happy to give it to him.
Tommy turns interested eyes on Duck. "Who's your best man, then? Are you going to have one?"
The door tinkles open, and in a typical feat of perfect timing, Buddy walks in.
He's in a suit. Meetings today, then. It abruptly occurs to Duck that Buddy only has two suits, and since the other one's for funerals, this is probably the one he'll be wearing to the courthouse.
Buddy gives Tommy a curious look before focusing on Duck and Dan. "Glad I could catch you two. Just a second." He rings for Sandra at the counter, and when she comes out, he orders four medium lattes, a plain bagel, and three crullers. "Oh," he moans, looking at the chocolate-dipped confections. "I'm wishing I didn't have that cake last night."
"I'll pack the low fat cream cheese," Sandra laughs, handing him his change. She moves off to prepare the takeout bag.
Buddy comes back to their table, and Duck makes the introductions. "Buddy, this is Tom Milligan, my best friend from high school. Tommy, you remember Buddy French."
"Welcome back to Wilby." Buddy shakes Tommy's hand warmly but doesn't show any sign of recognition. Even if he knew Tommy back then, which is doubtful, it's been a long time. Tommy, however, is looking slightly starstruck.
"Wow," he says. "You haven't changed a bit."
This makes Buddy quirk his lips. "If only," he muses. "Uh, sorry to be rude, Tom, but I've only got a minute, and I need to talk to Duck and Dan about something..."
"Sure, yeah. Go ahead."
Buddy gives Duck a questioning look, and Duck nods, letting him know Tommy's okay. Buddy squats down by the table anyway so he doesn't have to talk loud. The general babble from the other diners keeps his words private to their table.
"About the reception. I know Stan and Mike and I will be there, but I would feel better if we put an on-duty officer outside."
Duck breaks in, impatient. "Buddy, we talked about this--"
"To watch the traffic, okay? That's standard for big parties like this. And I want someone to keep an eye on the crowd at the Loyalist. That's just good sense. Chuck said he'll let me take it out of the special events budget, but to do that, I need one of you to file a form for the event." Buddy pulls a folded sheet in triplicate out of his breast pocket.
"Jesus, Buddy. I don't think--"
"It's real short. Twenty minutes, tops. I think it's worth it, okay? I'll pay the registration fee."
"No--"
"Don't argue. Carol suggested it. She'd even fill out the application for you herself, but they all recognize her handwriting by now and it would look weird coming from the Chief's wife, wouldn't it?" He smiles, but there's an edge to it that Duck instantly understands. Buddy's pushed for him and Dan a lot of times the last year and a half -- more times than Duck thinks is probably good for him. He has to trust Buddy to know where the line is and to let him know when he hits it, like now.
"I'll do it," Dan offers, glancing over the form. "I'm picking up the License from the post office today anyway. I can turn in a copy of it with the form."
"Perfect."
Duck holds up a hand, but it's Dan who asks first, "Buddy, are you sure the Mayor is fine with it?"
"The last thing he wants is any trouble just before his first annual review. It's in the Council's best interest, too. With the Sentinel watching, and Chuck, and me, your wedding's going to be storybook, guaranteed." He beams, cocky and pleased.
Duck is aware of Tommy staring in abject disbelief at their conversation. Buddy must notice it too.
"I'm the Maid Of Honor," he explains flippantly to Tommy. The majority of his smile is directed at Duck, though, who scowls back at him. Buddy still likes to take every chance he can get to remind Duck who the 'bride' is. "Nice meeting you, Tom," he says, and pats Dan on the shoulder before picking up his order from the counter and leaving for his car.
Tommy follows him with his eyes, mouth agape. "That was fucking Buddy French," he says in a loud stage whisper.
"Yeah."
"And he's your--" He flicks his gaze between the two of them. "What the hell, Duck? Since when is Buddy playing this side of the field?"
Duck frowns. "He's not. We're friends."
Tommy waggles his eyebrows and leers. "Friends, like, with benefits?" he says, making a gesture with one hand.
Duck grabs Tommy's hand and squeezes -- hard -- though not enough to actually hurt him. When he was a kid, he would've simply walked out whenever Tommy flapped his big mouth, instead of stopping him. They're not kids anymore. "Just friends, Tommy. Okay? This isn't Hollywood or Vancouver, and what you just said is not a joke."
Tommy's not the first person to talk about the Chief of Police and his 'pet queer' -- and most of them not joking around like Tommy is. Most people don't do it in front of Duck anymore, though. Duck's not as young as he used to be, but he still knows a few things. One thing he knows is that what people say matters if enough of them say it.
He remembers Buddy sitting on his porch steps with a root beer in his hand, clearly uneasy, but looking brave and self-deprecating. Taking a quick drink. Flinching a bit when Duck says, "So people talked." and then dipping his head, looking ashamed at his own reaction. "Yeah."
Dan puts a quelling hand on his forearm, and he lets Tommy go.
"Sorry, sorry," Tommy apologizes, as he rubs his fingers somewhat melodramatically. "I forgot how uptight people are around here." At least Tommy's keeping the volume down now. He must have learned a few things over the years as well. He recovers quickly, as resilient and incorrigible as ever, and he shoots Dan a smirk. "Awful protective, isn't he?"
"He's a fearless desperado when he needs to be," Dan answers, smiling.
"You ever get jealous of your hubby-to-be's 'friend'? You know he had a huge crush on the guy in high school."
Thank god he'd told Dan that already. Dan shrugs slightly with one shoulder, the way he does when he's amused at something but doesn't want to make a big deal of it. "Buddy's a good guy. I might've fallen for him, too, when I was younger."
Tommy guffaws. "He's a live one, Duck. You'd better put a ring on him fast."
Duck takes Dan's hand. "Soon."
***
"Stop, just forget it." Duck pulls Dan's hand off and rolls away, quickly turning on his stomach. He grinds his face into the pillow, mortified and furious. Dan lays down beside him and puts one arm over his shoulder. Lightly. After a while, Duck shifts his hips a bit and turns his head enough to speak.
"You can still..." But Dan shushes him.
"I'll wait until you can join me. Here." He pushes Duck to his side and turns his back to Duck's chest. He pulls Duck's arms around him.
Duck winds his fingers around Dan's and wraps one leg over his lover's -- his fiancé's -- thighs. Lying down, their differing heights aren't an obstacle to Duck enclosing him within his grasp.
Dan likes to be held. He likes to be held down and reminded that he is wanted. Sometimes, when they're making love, Duck will clench tight around Dan and crush his hands in his own and whisper, "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."
But he can't today.
"Does it ever bother you?" he asks, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of Dan's large hands. "Buddy and me?"
Dan shifts as if to turn around but doesn't complete the action. "What do you mean?"
"What Tommy said today. Are you ever jealous?"
Dan's body stills, but doesn't tense. "Should I be?" he finally asks, sounding confused.
Duck sighs, irritated at himself. "No, of course not." He doesn't feel that way about Buddy. He'd figured that out a long time ago. He can't understand what's troubling him.
"Is that the problem? You want me to be jealous?" Dan says in an amused tone.
"Maybe." That sounds... sort of right. But not. "No. I don't know."
"I'll call him out next time if you want. You there, varmint! Stop sniffin' around my man, or me and my Colt 45 will make sure you're no longer watertight! You understand me? This here gorgeous jack belongs to me--"
Duck pulls him tight and warns, "Don't."
Dan falls silent immediately. He knows Duck's sometimes not in the mood. He snuggles back into Duck's chest as an apology. Maybe a question. One that Duck's never yet answered. After a long while, he says softly, "I am jealous of Buddy sometimes." When Duck would have protested, however, Dan continues. "But there's some things you tell your best friend that you can't tell your lover. I understand that."
Tommy has nothing to do with the conversation, of course. Duck's bewildered until he figures out what Dan means. Or rather -- who. And then he wants to kick himself for being such an absolute idiot.
He hasn't talked to Tommy more than a handful of times in the last twenty years. He hasn't actually had a best friend since high school. He'd forgotten what it felt like.
Breathing deeply against his lover's neck, Duck asks him, "Are there things you tell Sandra that you don't tell me?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Duck chuckles and turns Dan's face enough so he can kiss him. He likes the fact that Dan and Sandra are so tight. He loves the fact that Dan knows people and families other than Duck's friends, that he talks regularly to the members of the garden club and gripes sometimes about the drama within his growing movie club. Dan has connections in Wilby now that he hadn't had the whole time he'd been here with Val. He's really becoming part of the Island, breathing the air and learning the sea.
Rooting himself deeper into the same earth that Duck is.
"Hm... Thinking of me, I hope?" Dan teases him, slightly breathless.
"Always," he replies, as he slides their bodies closer.
***
They're invited to spend Christmas at the Frenches' again, and they run into Stan while buying another bottle of the cider everyone had enjoyed the year before.
"Merry Christmas!" he greets them, pulling the edge of his red and white scarf away from his neckline. He'd evidently just come indoors.
Buddy's told Duck about Stan's part in the scandal last year that had almost taken Dan's life. Even so, it's difficult to dislike Stan, in the same way that it's difficult to dislike a well-meaning mastiff. His round face has more wrinkles now and less hair, but Duck still finds himself responding to the man's earnest cheer.
"Merry Christmas, Stan," Dan returns. "When will Annie be coming home?"
"Tomorrow. Brenda's cleaned her room and everything. Remember when you put those shelves in her closet?" he asks Duck. "Solid as rock," he confides to Dan. "That's what I tell everyone."
"He gave me my first handyman job," Duck tells Dan, not sure if he's mentioned this before. "I think you must have referred me to everybody on the Island. Kept me hopping."
Stan beams. "Good work deserves good returns. That's what my dad always said. Hey, you sure it's okay for the girls to come to the reception? I don't want you to go broke."
Duck looks to Dan, who gives Stan an encouraging smile. "Of course they can. Since we changed venue, we can afford to feed a lot more people."
"I wouldn't worry about that. Wedding food is always awful anyway." He continues, apparently unaware of what he'd said. "The senior center, though. What a great idea. Wish Brenda and I'd thought of it. Might've saved us some money."
"We think it'll be nice," Duck says dryly, not mentioning that the Loyalist had refused to take them. Stan's right, though. The senior center was a good idea after all. Symbolic, maybe. At the least, they can afford to invite more people this way. Once they'd gotten their lists together, they'd found a surprising number of people they were pretty certain could and would attend.
Sandra and Betty will be doing the catering. Duck has reservations about the meal being handled by a diner cook and an accountant known to be a disaster in the kitchen, but Dan assures him that the buffet style lunch will be perfect.
Duck puts an arm around Dan's shoulders. "Thanks for being so supportive, Stan. We really appreciate it."
"Wilby Island was founded by diverse and adventurous spirits. It's a credit to us that you two are comfortable here." Duck sneaks a knowing look at Dan, both of them hearing Buddy in their heads.
"Have a Merry Christmas. Say hi to Brenda and the girls for us."
"Merry Christmas, you two!"
***
Duck's up a ladder taking down some New Year's decorations from the row of trees along the walkway up to St. Agnes when he hears his name. He firms his stance on the rungs and looks down to see Carol's anxious face. "Just a minute."
Arms full of acrylic lights and ribbon, he climbs down carefully. "Is something wrong?" he asks, dropping his load in the truck bed.
"Duck, I'm so sorry. I don't think I can-- I don't think I should be planning the reception anymore. Do you think you and Dan can handle it from here? I'll give you all the contacts and my notes, of course."
It's not what'd he'd expected to hear. Truthfully, he had been somewhat counting on her obsessive nature to make things perfect. But she's already set most of the groundwork, and certainly, she's been under more scrutiny than it's fair to ask of her because of helping them with this. Reporters, knowing she has their itinerary, have been hounding her possibly more than they have been following Duck and Dan themselves. If she's backing out, he can't very well say otherwise. He does ask, "Why?"
"Just, the stress. I don't want to risk--" She grips his arms, and even though he's seen her carve a turkey twice now like it's nothing, he's still surprised by how strong her fingers are. "You can't tell Buddy yet, okay? I'm telling him tonight."
Tears are brimming in her eyes, and Duck suddenly remembers that they are right outside the hospital.
"Jesus, Carol, what is it?" He grips her arms back, terrified. He looks down into her long, pale face.
She's smiling.
"Duck, I'm pregnant."
***
Buddy tackles him the next morning as soon as he opens the door. "You goddamn bastard!" he yells, shaking Duck hard enough to rattle his teeth. "I can't believe you found out before I did."
"Congratulations," Duck wheezes after Buddy lets him go. "Hey, you're not dressed." Under his coat, Buddy's in jeans and a sweater instead of his sweats.
"You think I'm freezing my arse off on the hill of doom today?" Buddy turns Duck around and pushes him toward the bedroom. "Breakfast at Iggy's in twenty, my treat. Where's Dan?"
"He's asleep."
"Well, wake him up!"
"Is Carol coming, too?"
"Are you kidding? It's six in the morning. She needs her rest. Go get the groom, Juliet. Chop, chop!"
He grumbles, and Dan grumbles, but they go and they toast Carol and Buddy with orange juice over hot steak and eggs. Then they listen to Buddy talk haltingly about what the doctor had found at Carol's checkup eleven months ago. The long discussions they had, about their ages, their jobs, their future. The surgery. The months of secret not-quite-hoping.
"I can't believe it. We thought it would never happen. I can't believe it." Buddy repeats the words in wonder. Duck takes Dan's hand, already reaching for his. He's thinking he can guess how Buddy feels.
***
In a flurry of activity, March comes upon them.
Duck only vaguely remembers the drive to Barrington in Buddy's SUV. Steve, slightly jetlagged, slumps in the back seat with Dan, the two of them making sporadic conversation.
The ceremony is brief and uneventful. Dan's had their paperwork ready for weeks. He thinks either Buddy or Dan snagged a bored clerk to take a picture of the four of them. Duck knows they took the picture because they later have it framed and placed in their living room, but he can't remember taking it. Duck drives on the way back.
Two hours later is the reception, and that's what Duck remembers most.
He remembers entering the room, already filled with people. Streamers, confetti, and shouts of congratulation shower them. Dan's hand in his is the only solid thing amid a wash of noise and color. He and Dan each read a very short speech thanking everyone for coming. Buddy makes a slightly longer speech that causes the guests to laugh and smile. Steve, surprisingly, makes a few brief but moving statements that everyone applauds by loud cries of, "Hear, hear!"
He doesn't remember how the sandwiches and salads and chili taste, exactly, though he remembers Betty crowding a plate on him and saying, "I told you we could handle it." He does remember the soup being a tasty fish chowder. The cake is lemon, by his request. Somebody urges him to feed a slice to Dan for a picture. He remembers Annie and Marjorie squealing when Dan kisses his sticky fingers clean.
He remembers the loudspeakers playing something that Dan and Sandra finally decided on the night before. The song's not important, because what he wants to remember is how it feels taking Dan in his arms and slow-dancing across an empty carpeted floor with everyone watching. Gradually, the spaces fill in around them, and then there's a hand on his shoulder and a pair of mischievous blue eyes. He remembers Dan laughing.
He remembers watching his husband be swept away by his best friend.
He remembers swaying slowly with his best friend's wife. Carol lays her head on his shoulder and cries happy tears, and blames her hormones.
At one point, he finds himself alone. He looks around, and then he goes to an elderly woman who is seated, watching quietly from the edge of the dance floor. Sinking to one knee in front of her, he takes her hand and kisses it, just above the ring his father gave her. "Thank you for coming," he tells her.
"Oh, Walter," she says, her voice brittle with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."
He has to close his eyes for a moment. Then he gets up and presses his cheek to hers. "May I have this dance?" he asks, when he can trust himself to speak again.
In answer, she lets him pull her up and lead her to join the dance.
END.
Note: Some useful links here on Canadian provinces, Nova Scotia counties, and marriage procedures in Nova Scotia.
Back to Points In Common Index
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