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The Arden-Archers: Part One

The last weekend of August 2014 brought a garden party to Highcroft Hall. So many happy headlines, Audrey refused to let them go by without acknowledgement in her home. Her family and her children’s families descended to celebrate. Henry to become a father again and her youngest, Dean, to be married. 

The news, like the August heat was consuming and brought about positivity in everyone it touched. 

Following the engagement Dean couldn’t stop smiling. He’d find himself lost in staring at his fiancé. Jamie was head to toe in white linen as Dean stared lovingly that day. Four years in and still not quite believing the man he was eyeing was to be his husband in a year’s time. Jamie’s hair was scraped back in a bandana as he played with George in the grounds of the Archer family home. Dean laughed, he wasn’t sure who was actually the child as they chased each other and babbled.

“You’re so happy aren’t you?” Ali was at his side. An arm around him. 

“Yeah. Look at him. That’s what I want for us. He’d be a fantastic father. If only it was that simple.”

“Oh Dean. You both would be. I love you.” She hugged him and sighed happily. 

“You too, soon-to-be sister in law.” He squeezed her.

She rested her head on his chest. His chest was a safe place for everyone now. Jamie swore by it. He recommended everyone try it out.

Dean jogged over to George and Jamie. “Run Georgie! Big bad uncle D is coming to catch us! Aaaah!” Jamie goofed. George giggled. A laugh so precious everyone within earshot beamed. A child’s laughter, magic of its own. Dean came up behind them both, Jamie under one arm and George cupped in the other. Little did they know, everyone in attendance was looking at them. Hands to chests. Choked up. A future being realised in front of them all.

“You bet G boy! Uncle Jai will protect you. He’s the best at that.” Dean passed George into Jamie’s arms. He stroked Jamie’s face. Jamie’s eyes followed Dean’s arm all the way up his shoulder, then his neck and finally rested on his eyes. He swallowed a feeling that came out of nowhere. Like walking out too early onto a street, narrowly avoiding a speeding car. It made him stop in his tracks.

“Here.” He whispered. Blinking with a realisation.

“Huh?” Dean frowned, still smiling.

“I want to marry you here. Right here. I just felt it. I need that feeling again. I felt completely with you just then. Like we’re in our own world, there was no one else for a moment. Dean, marry me here?” Jamie’s eyes were full of pleading and love. Almost pain.

Dean reached his hands to Jamie’s cheeks and kissed him softly. “Are you sure? Whatever you want.” A pudgy hand grabbed Dean’s nose. “Hello beautiful boy. Do you think uncle Jai looks happy?” He pointed, George’s round little face followed. 

He poked Jamie’s cheek. “Yes.”

“Never more sure of anything.” He rested his head against George’s forehead. “You’re right Georgie. I am very happy. Love makes everyone happy.”

“Not cry.” George frowned. 

Jamie kissed his head. “Happy tears little one. Happy tears. You don’t have to be sad to cry. Crying can be good sometimes. We love you very much. Shall we go find mummy and daddy?” 

Dean took him by the waist as they went back to the group. Decision made.

Jamie and Dean were to become the Arden-Archers the following summer, at Highcroft Hall, when they turned five.

August 17th 2015

They took the institution of marriage, the wedding day and reimagined it for themselves. Some traditions crept in and others were firmly forgotten. 

Two influences were at play, in tandem, in the months that preceded. Love and Pride.

Love was almost the easy part. They wouldn't have contemplated the occasion and the circus that came with it, if they didn't feel there was more for their relationship to explore.

Pride was the tricky part. Painfully aware of the newness of marriage equality, a conversation that was stopping and starting like a rusted engine up and down the country, beginning to loosen and fire into society to sit alongside traditional marriage. The awareness of struggles, battles that had been won, lost and still being fought. Each union, each public display of affection, each outward promotion of their community. Sex. Love. Gradually being galvanised by politics and the shame becoming the homophobes to own rather than the community itself to drag around. Bigots and bullies were getting nervous. Allies were being formed. 

They agreed, Jamie more vocally than Dean, not that Dean didn’t care, his capacity for outward displays of conviction were just always dwarfed by Jamie’s. He would smile at Jamie when he would rant at the political statement their nuptials would help push. A fringe movement mobilising troops in quiet but militant living rooms across the south east. 

It was on one of only few occasions Jamie sought to use their connections and status to their advantage. Actively shunning offers of society magazines using their day to spin more copy and shift issues. A glimpse inside a same sex marriage, wrapped in haute couture and Bentley limousines. Jamie was about causing a stir not building column inches. He’d use his social media platform to push their collective agenda. Their community’s. The guest list was one of protest as well as loved ones. Campaigners. Human rights advocates. Icons of their world. Only icons because of and existing in their world. The prestige of their life was wrapped in exclusivity but the media that arrogantly thought they’d have an all access pass, were shut out. If you weren’t about to talk about what really matters at the risk of upsetting the board room. Jamie didn’t want to know. 

Dean was impressed. He never thought any part of Jamie was shallow but he did think an offer to have their wedding photographed by the finest industry heavyweights would be an opportunity he just couldn’t miss. But he was happily mistaken. Jamie repeatedly clasped Dean’s face in his hands to remind him, the day would be a spectacle but only as much as they allowed. Jamie wanted him. He wanted Jamie. A spectacle, but in a vacuum. For only their loved ones and a select few to share. In a growing age of oversharing everything, Jamie was fiercely protective of their day and most importantly, Dean’s sanity and need to be as low key as he could. The mental health of his husband was superior to everything. Dean wasn’t selfish, he absolutely compromised even though Jamie didn’t ask for it, he let Jamie take the lead on style and guest lists. Everything was him. The wedding was a mirror into their dynamic. Dean, the strong and steady silent pillar to which Jamie’s pantomime and show could reliably lean against and shine. 

In the studios of Alexander McQueen that summer, an assistant was offered too much money and let slip details to an unscrupulous journalist. Jamie smirked at online London gossip articles that followed in the weeks before. Let them have it. It’s all they’d have. No detail was released but this:

London style It Boy, Jamie Arden to wed eligible city bachelor, Dean Archer in private ceremony at an undisclosed location this August in Oxford. Custom McQueen suits have been commissioned. A perfect blend of contemporary and tradition. Coat tails have been mentioned. 

It was true. A connection through Trix and Jamie’s love of the industry, the idea two of the most beautiful men in Britain wearing the designs, was a billboard opportunity not even the house of McQueen could pass up. Delayed release of photographs was agreed. Dean threatened to put the design house under if anything was leaked. His muscles were not just physical. They were legal. 

Jamie designed a subtle crown of leaves with a London artist for the occasion, who usually designed drag accessories. Jamie thought the coupling was fantastically fabulous. “I’m your King, I’m just giving you what you want, baby.” Jamie winked as he paid the thousand pounds for the practical string of gold. Dean smiled on, confused and not prepared to ask for a justification. He was having fun. Leave him to it. Dean would soothe himself on more than one occasion. 

Soon the day arrived. Apart from longing for Dean, when Jamie woke, what he’d give to have a celebratory roll in the huge bed he stretched out on that morning, was the chance to finally read Danny’s poem. He punched the pillows behind him and propped himself up as Ali brought him a coffee. 

“I’m ok, can you give me a few minutes alone? I just need to read over something that’s special to Dean and I.” 

“Prenup? You know they mean nothing in England. We’re boring as fuck over here. You just tell a solicitor which piece of jewellery and which bricks in the house are yours.” Ali giggled. 

“No. We don’t have anything like that. Dean trusts me. Also, Ali, we’re pretty comfortable as a family remember? We’re good people. This, all this, is just silly. They work hard but does anybody need a house where two wedding parties can prepare without the risk of seeing each other? Does Audrey need a wing for clothes? I mean, she could give that to me.” He smirked. “Does Mark need a temperature controlled barn for vintage sports cars? None of it is relevant. It’s nice, but doesn’t mean anything. Dean could rock up in a denim shirt and chino shorts and I’d marry him in our local registry office. In fact, please let him wear that. He looks good in anything. Ok, leave me a minute, my head is spinning.”

She reached over and pressed her hand over his eyes. “Stay calm beautiful boy. Text me when you’re ready for me to come back.” She was gone.

He sank back into the bed, sipped the bitter rich coffee and read. 

Love,

More than a word to our kind.

It’s action. It’s sacrifice. It’s trust. Placing your heart in the indefinite care of someone else.

Our love is secret. It has to be. It’s tragic and endless.

Stolen glances in darkened rooms. Desperate grasps of knees under tables. A brush of a hand.

It’s a language almost as unspoken as an ancient civilisation. Only we understand.

Would we continue to fight and protest if it wasn’t for love? Why would we endure what we do if it wasn’t?

There is hope. We create families of our own. Accepted. Loved. Those safe places for us to exist and live.

When you seek out that chance connection amongst the noise. We have to hold on. 

Through it all, I’ll always hold on. 

Everything I weather in this storm. I weather it for you. You’re my reason for action. My reason for sacrifice. I trust you’ll care for my heart. 

One day, when we’re long gone, I hope love like ours is found again. May it be endless. May it not be so tragic. 

D.

Jamie dropped the paper to the bed. Smiled, but not giddily, he had a purpose in the smile. Everything he had said to this point, was absolutely confirmed by Danny. All these years later. 

A sense of responsibility came over him. Danny and Earl’s generation had fought on the frontline. Police brutality met with sheer determination to be heard. Religious bigotry being used to oppress and excuse the complete absence of humanity. And here he was, thanks to their persistence, about to marry his Prince Charming. Jamie didn’t forget his own militance. That determination was inherited. Not through a natural DNA, but the DNA of conversation and stories shared over the years by the Earls and Dannys he’d met over the years, each interaction compressing the flame of need to do what he could for his community. Protest. Sex. Love. Argument. Debate. Now it was magma inside of him. Pulling the right ones in close. And the wrong ones in even closer, only to whisper in their ear that he and his kind weren’t going any fucking where. From London to New York. It was all the same. An intricate network of armies with a common cause. Each marriage, public kiss, holding of hands, uncensored conversation. A battle fought, advancing the war.

A knock at the door. They agreed gifts for their wedding day. Ali came back in. Jamie recoiled, please don’t spend a fortune on me baby. 

“No I haven’t seen him. Me and Harry have worked our asses off to make this morning work. Happy wedding day from Dean. I’m staying for this so budge up.”

She put an arm around him. He sat in his black robe. ARDEN-ARCHER EST. 17.08.15 emblazoned in gold thread across his back. “Is this an indication of how extra today will be?” She squeezed him and put her head to his shoulder.

“You wait. Ali, thank you for being with me last night and this morning. We agreed to keep parents out of it. It just feels right that we walk alone. Mum, dad, his parents, everyone is ok with that. It’s like everyone just wants us to be happy. But I wanted you with me. It felt right. I know we don’t always get on but I feel that since Dean, we’ve grown closer.”

“They do silly. Do you. Equal marriage is long overdue. Why try and stretch tradition over something completely new? I think you’re right. He seems to be the piece that allows us to work better. What a guy. Your friends will always be your friends, I’m a little more free to call you out on your shit. Ok, get on reading, then open it!” She giggled. 

He looked at her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. Ok, here goes.” 

Trouble,

Happy Wedding Day! 

We’re here! Thank you for loving me the way you do. You say it far too often, but I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.

It’s about time we got married. So I hope this helps. You’re time keeping is a nightmare of mine. 

Please be on time. Just for today. 

Love you to Paris and back,

Forever your Big Boy.

“Well of course it’s cute as hell. He’s adorable. I’ve never met so many straight women that are jealous of you. Can I ask? Where did Trouble and Big Boy come from?” 

“God he’s fucking perfect. He better not have, that box? Uh, Trouble, just an affectionate way of referencing my craziness. I love it. We’re at a point where if he doesn’t call me it at least once a day, I’m actively miserable. Big Boy? I’m six foot, but he’s six-three, he’s more muscle than me and uh, I’m not going into the rest.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Ali, remembering the first time he bestowed the name on Dean over five years before. 

“Well I did ask. I don’t need to know anymore about my brother in-law thank you. Open the box!” Ali shoved it into his lap.

Maroon paper, navy ribbon. So far so good. Then the green. Then the gold crown. Then the gold letters. “Jesus Christ.” Jamie gasped as the box opened with a pop. 

The certificate dropped out. He read:

Rolex Submariner 

Year: 1965

Purchased: 17/08/14

“The sneaky bastard. He’s had this for a year. My god. I wound him up about his Rolex when we first met. He’s too much. Hang on, it’s got an engraving.”

Time for Trouble

Jamie snapped it onto his wrist and marvelled. “It’s beautiful. He’s got to stop. He’s banned from buying me anything else.” Jamie clasped his hands to his head. 

“That is beautiful. Why the 60s?” Ali leaned back on her elbow.

“My favourite decade. He knows everything about me. It’s never the gift, it’s the obvious thought that goes into each one. I love him. I need to speak to him. I…” 

“Nope. Not happening. You’ll see him in three hours.” He pulled a pillow round and playfully smacked her face with it. 

Across Highcroft Hall. 

“Stop jerking off over your fiancé, I’m coming in.” Harry teased from behind the door. 

“Shut up. You’re so embarrassing. Do you reckon he’s had it?” 

“Well put it this way. I met Ali on the landing, we set off last night to make sure we met each other this morning.” Harry laughed. “Yeah he’s had it. No you won’t hear from him. You will say I do and kiss him in three hours. Espresso?” Harry brought over the cup.

“Shit. Do I need anymore anxious energy? Maybe it’ll cut through the nerves actually. Sorry to be ungrateful. Thanks.” He took the cup and fist bumped Harry’s hand. 

“You’ve got this. Lean into the nerves. But, remember, it’s adrenaline. Anxiety makes it sound like you’re not sure. Adrenaline means you can’t fucking wait.” Harry sat in the wingback by the window. Dean laughed at him. Harry suited this place more than he did. 

“You’re right. As usual. Tell me…”

“Not a chance in hell. No I haven’t seen him. Or heard him. And even if I did or had, like fuck I’d tell you. You’re going to be with him for the rest of your life in a matter of hours so cool your fucking jets.” Harry grinned.

“You’re a cunt.” Dean lunged and slapped his leg with a laugh.

“Here’s yours from him.” Harry slid the maroon box with a navy bow across the bed. “Same colours as his?”

“H, we know each other better than anyone. Can’t explain.” Dean shrugged. Completely happy being arrogant. 

“Read the card. I love his words.”

My Big Boy,

London you found me. 

Paris you loved me.

New York you asked me. 

Here. We say I do. 

Wildest dreams apparently never come true. But here I am. Living mine. 

I’m a little sad today. Why didn’t you happen sooner? Where have you been hiding, Mr Archer? 

I shouldn’t be. You’re here, finally. I needed those years to prepare myself for you. 

But, you did. You came along. Grabbed my chin and whispered, “enough, it’s time.” I gasped a little and the rest is our history.

Meet me at the end of that aisle and make me your Trouble forever.

I’m all of these to you and I love that you love them all: Jamie, JJ, Wild Boy, most of all,

Trouble. 

P.S Normal is fucking boring anyway. 

P.P.S Hello Big Boy. Kiss me.

Dean flung back against his pillow and dropped the letter on his face and kissed it. “Fuck yes babe.” 

“Can I see?” Harry clambered. Dean gave him the letter with a wide grin. “Open the fucking box man.”

A note first:

It’s time you had some Cartier sparkle from me.

Dean’s lips broke into a gasp as he opened the Cariter box. This one larger. There it was. A Santos De Cartier watch. Dean pulled it out and snapped it to his wrist. “Fuck, my king did good. He won’t know what hit him tonight.” Dean fell back and looked at the beautiful time piece on his wrist. 

Looking and smiling silently at the engraving:

Time to kiss me, Big Boy

“Wow. Beautiful. I don’t need to know anymore about your plans tonight thanks. Hey can I tell you something? Seriously?”

Despite Dean’s daydream of love, marriage and a twinkle of Cartier, he shot up straight.

“Of course. Tell me. Tell me.”

“Reckon I can have what you have? Is it possible? Even for me? D, I think I’m getting there. Years of this bravado to help me cope with what happened. Maybe I’m ready. Seeing you two just makes it all seem so fucking worth it.” Harry seemed disarmed. Dean always knew his distance, aloof approach to relationships was an armour. Dean respected it, never teased him for it. But always held a little hope it would begin to erode over time. If him and Jamie had helped quicken the weathering, he felt they’d done some good by him.

“When you’re ready. I’ll be here. Like you have been for me. Me getting hitched isn’t the end of H and D don’t forget. It may look a little different but it’ll still be us. We’re a team, going on seventeen years. You’re the other man in my life. Don’t tell Jamie.” He winked.

Dean wanted all of this for Harry if he wanted it. Harry was a brother. He was physically strong, successful, he went at life like a hungry dog. Each achievement he dug up, flung more and more dirt on his shame and his useless family. He wanted to grab him and tell him to ease off. But, being a best friend, that was complicated. You’d offer the advice no one else could, but you’d have to and expect to deal with the rebuke and fall out when no one else could too.

Dean realised, Jamie definitely had made him push into life and feel, but part of him was already doing it for Harry. Maybe that’s what Jamie saw. He saw Dean was a good man, a strong but small circle. Because of what he had with Harry.

No wonder they fought. Not over him, but over each other. Looking back Dean laughed out loud to himself. They actually just became frustrated with each other over not realising life could be pretty brilliant if they took a moment to appreciate it. Now they were inseparable.

“Am I funny?” Harry asked. A little hurt.

“It’s not that mate. I’m just so fucking happy today and wouldn’t change you for the world. Like I said. When the right one comes along, you’ll know. You might need to chase though. I had to. Jamie couldn’t be pinned down. He didn’t relish in the chase, but I think I had to prove to him that I wasn’t going to use him. He’s insecure as hell but actually doesn’t do himself credit, he holds his heart close. He’s finally realised he’s allowed to let only those in he can completely trust. He let me in, but he let you in too. You both don’t see what I see. A true friendship. You’ve shared secrets with him you wouldn’t tell anyone. And he’s made it his mission to help you. You saying you’re some kind of ready for this, I’d argue is down to him.” Dean smiled softly. It was true. It was an overly used phrase but Jamie really was ‘the gift that kept on giving. ‘ To everyone around him.

Soon it was time.

Both dressed in custom three piece suits by McQueen. Jamie in rich burgundy and Dean in the deepest midnight blue, both of wool grain de poudre. That colour pairing crept back in, ever since its first appearance in their lives five years ago. Coattails included. Manolo Blahnik velvet slippers, reminiscent of Disney princes, replacing Prada and Gucci loafers, just for today. Modern meets the whimsy of fairy tails. Them. Crisp white shirts. Cravats of their opposing colours. A bit of each of them, on them. All the way to the final I do. New time pieces nestled against cufflinks. A little naughty humour crept in where possible. Jamie’s read: TROUBLE, Dean’s read: BIG BOY. All that stood between them and marriage now, were their vows.

They agreed to walk alone. Just them. Parents agreed happily, marriage equality absolutely gave way to new traditions. They were ready to write them.

Dean approached their guests to a gasp, everyone stood in a scuff of white chairs on especially assembled floorboards, so not to damage the Archer’s Wimbledon grade front lawn. Dean held his hands together. Bracing against his nerves. He wanted no fuss.  He walked to only the sound of his shoes on gravel then the dull tap of the white carpet ahead of him. He squinted with a heave of adrenaline. Ivy, white roses and white jasmine littered the walk way. The perfume heady and sweet. Jamie in a bloom.

The sun drenched everyone. The day was golden.

He found Earl. Grabbing him in a tight embrace. “You got here. I trust everything was ok? He’ll be a picture seeing you.” Dean kissed his thinning hair.

“You’re a gentleman. Have a beautiful day.” Earl whispered.

Dean continued slowly. Taking in the guests on both sides. His and Jamie’s worlds coming together for a singular moment. The frenetic pace of their lives was suspended for the day. Schedules so busy it was rare these people before him would have ever met and likely to ever meet again. They did it, for them. All lives on pause as theirs begun.

Rugby friends grinned and tipped heads. Reserved but with affection. Work colleagues beamed. He’d grown up with them to be an influential power player among the senior team. Hugo winked.

He cast his eyes over Jamie’s guests. Colourful and exotic. Fashion industry dynamos, social media personalities, taste makers and creatives. A clash of talent and minds. He hadn’t even considered admiring these people before. Not because he never respected them, his world just never demanded it. Now, it was his world. He wasn’t just marrying Jamie. He was marrying his people too.

He arrived. A wall of more ivy, white rose and white jasmine in front of him. “Wow.” He whispered. Jamie had created an enchanted garden for them, in the middle of monied and manicured Oxford. It was them. Dean’s straight lines and neatness, meeting Jamie’s romanticism and day dream. He fought back tears.

His brothers and Harry grabbed his shoulders.

“Mate, here we go! You’ll be fine. Stay cool. You’re the king of cool.” Lee was uncharacteristically boisterous. Dean loved the energy.

He looked to his parents and toward Jamie’s. Fathers stood proud, mother’s clutched tissues.

“You look wonderful Dean. Just relax. This is all for you both. Once Jamie is here, cherish it, this moment passes in the blink of an eye. Savour it all. When you’re ready, I’ll give the signal, I will not rush you.” The registrar stroked his arm. He smiled at her.

“Thank you for being so kind. Jamie knows this is so far outside of my comfort zone but I wanted to celebrate him. Can I take just a moment of quiet? Would that be ok?”

“You’re an old soul Dean. Take your time. Give me a nod and I’ll ask for us to begin.” She stepped back in her black dress, neat, plain, not to argue with the theme and Jamie and Dean’s suits. She reminded him of his favourite teacher in school. Here he was again, being given comfort by a friendly but formidable woman.

Dean breathed and looked down. Jamie’s face passed into his mind’s view. He examined it. Every laugh, every look of worry, every tear he’d comforted and every one he’d caused. The smile. Confident. Sexy. Cheeky. With a constant twitch of nervousness at its edges. Dean sighed. “I want to see these faces for the rest of my life.” He whispered.

“Sorry Dean what was that?” The registrar leaned to him.

“I’m ready.” He said with a strain. It was as if Jamie had reached in and tickled his voice box as one final tease.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding for the grooms party. A group of siblings and the nearest and dearest of our grooms, followed by Mr Jamie Arden himself.” The planner announced from the rear of the aisle.

Dean looked down. Focusing on a single loose rose petal at his shoe. “Come on baby. Get down here. I need you. I’ll be ok when you’re here.” His breath caught and he heaved. Harry jumped to him.

“You ok sport?” Harry grabbed his shoulders.

“Stay there please? Tell me when to look back. I trust you.”

Harry gulped. Dean was trusting him with his happiness. He had to perform. “You got it kid. Sit tight.”

A silence almost eerie over everyone, as if waiting for the perfectly painful pause, the string quartet began Canon in D.

Sniffles could be heard and excited giggles muffled. Dean was in a bubble. Everything was a mumble. He was happy in his little world for a moment.

Their grooms party, like fairies of the garden. Forest green chiffon strapless gowns, to the floor. Naked sandals, giving the illusion they were walking barefoot. Ivy, white rose and white jasmine flower crowns, reflected in their bouquets. Hair, loose and wild, tousled. Ethereal.

Ali approached first. Dean knew it was her. Just by her walk. A palm on his shoulder. “Good luck brother.” She whispered.

He tensed. “I love you.” He continued to look down.

Lars came next. Forest green again, in suit form of course, a  button hole in place of a flower crown. Jamie and him had giggled over the fact that they had finally agreed something might be too much. He beamed. He was boyish and handsome. Someone watched him as he approached and smiled goofily. Realising something. “Love you big bro.” Another hand to Dean’s shoulder as he passed.

“You too baby bro.” Dean, refusing to give in.

Gabby next. “Love you both.”

“You too. True friend.” Still looking down.

Trix approached. Trouble’s partner in crime. “Hey Mr Magnfiscent.” She slapped his shoulder playfully.

“You look incredible. Thank you for everything.” Dean had to acknowledge her connections making today’s attire possible.

His heart burst. The irratic steps of a child. Giggles. Georgie. A tug at his trouser leg. “For you.” Dean’s eyes filled. He grabbed at George’s hair and took the petal in his hand. Shoving it in his pocket.

“I love you beautiful boy.” He knew what was coming. His breath got more rapid.

Emily and Arthur. Her warmth surrounding him. “Have the most beautiful day Dean. We love you.” She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you Em. You too Arty boy.” He flicked a finger over his nose.

He went back into his bubble.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Mr Jamie Arden.”

Gravel crunches turned to carpet as Jamie made his way. His smile blinded everyone. It was a marriage but no one could deny they were absolutely bewitched by Jamie himself. He’d landed from a far away place, where everything was fair and cruel free, he was too kind for this world and everyone here felt an urge to raise him up and protect him. Including Big Boy. He caught his shoulders hunched. He bit his lip. I’m coming baby. Just a few more moments. His crown glinted against the sun beams. A halo.

“Buddy, turn now or you’re going to miss this for the rest of your life. He’s beautiful.” Harry tapped his shoulders.

Dean looked up, breathed out every feeling he’d felt in the last five years to make space for forever and turned. He held his hand over his mouth as Jamie walked. His poise, each stride closer, his heart thudded through his body. Get here baby.

Jamie came to stand in front of him. His calm like a cloak over Dean. Dean couldn’t smile. He was drowning, happily. Jamie knew what to do. He reached a hand to his cheek. “I love you.” Dean’s shoulders dropped for the first time all day.

He couldn’t speak. He grabbed Jamie’s hand and squeezed.

A moment of murmuring and everyone fell silent. Their eyes fixed on each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen, now that we have our grooms, I invite you to sit.”

The registrar introduced the ceremony. Jamie demanded it be kept short to allow Dean time to enjoy the day.

“Our grooms have prepared vows of their own to mark their union. Jamie, may I ask you to share your vows with us?” The registrar smiled at him to begin.

“Dean, Big Boy, Archer, Mr Magnificent, and those are just the names I have for you that I can share.” A giggle from the audience. They held a hand. Dean stroked Jamie’s. He needed contact with him. “I’m not standing in front of you to promise you anything new. We exercise our commitment to each other every day. I will promise to carry on. I’ll be your greatest supporter privately and professionally. I’ll save you, you’re strong but you need protection from the world and yourself. I’ll promise to love and care for your heart as you have done so beautifully for mine these past years. A heart I didn’t beleive was worth loving the way you do. Years ago I didn’t know I was allowed to find you. Someone who would take me on. You’ve always understood me, encouraged me to be unapologetically me. I promise to be your chaos and most of all, your Trouble for the rest of our lives. I love you.” Jamie delivered his vows with precision and humour. Confidence and clarity. All while holding Dean. Dean was proud.

“Beautiful, thank you Jamie. And now you Dean?” The registrar put a hand to his elbow. Sensing his nerves.

Dean wiped a tear from his eye. “Gosh sorry everyone. I’m meant to be the one who keeps things together and look at me. I’m so full of love for this guy today.” Everyone laughed and clapped. Jamie continued to smile. I got you.

“Jamie. I searched high and low for the one. When I set out to do something. I do it. And I did. The challenge wasn’t chasing you all over London for a summer. My challenge came in understanding how someone with such a complex and beautiful soul was willing to take a chance on me. You’ve taught me to open up to the world. Let happiness in and push the misery out. I’m a better person because of you. I promise to protect you and our world, this clashing of lives that no one understands how it works, but it does. I told you five years ago to be messy, be chaos, just let me ride the storm with you and I’ll be the happiest man alive. Thank you for letting me into your storm. I love it here. I’m privileged to walk this planet with you. I vow to continue to walk alongside you for the rest of our lives.”

Gasps of happy tears, personal vows give a window into the souls of a couple. These two laid themselves bare for all, just for a moment. Confirmation of just how precious the moment everyone was witnessing was.

Dean was itching to conclude the ceremony. He ran his teeth over his lips. Jamie giggled.

Quickly rings were exchanged, courtesy of George waddling over with a Cartier box, Dean ruffling his hair as a proud uncle.

Jamie’s “yes! Absolutely! I mean, I do!” Was quickly followed by Dean’s, “of course I do.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding for Mr and Mr Arden-Archer.

Their guests jumped to their feet in unison in a frenzy of claps and cheer.

“You may now kiss.” The registrar giggled.

“Come here.” Dean swooped Jamie to one leg and kissed him as they do in the movies. Jamie couldn’t resist as he whimpered and grabbed a tuft of the thick black waves of Archer hair.

Dean pulled him to his feet, they turned. Dean raised Jamie’s left hand into the air, proud.

Canon in D began again as they walked back together. Their conjoined hands never leaving each other’s grip.

Petals showered them. They laughed, stood a moment and kissed again.

”I love my wedding gift babe.” Dean snuck a whisper.

”Mine too, you sneaky boy. You’ll be rewarded for that and then some.” Jamie threatened with a wicked smile. His attention soon changed to elsewhere.

“Earl! You’re here! Are you well? Oh dear friend I love you.” Jamie grabbed him into a tight hug.

“Jamie, my boy. You look incredible. I couldn’t miss this. All my love to you both.”

Jamie was pulled away by other guests but he looked back and blew Earl another kiss.

There was a moment of calm as guests began to line up and wish them well. Dean asked for five minutes alone with Jamie.

“Wow, we did it!” He spread his arms wide. Part relief, part incredulous. As they stood in a cordoned off room in the bespoke glass marquee. Dean was specific, I need time alone with him before I lose him all day.

“Come here. Fuck.” Jamie grabbed Dean hungrily and kissed him like he’d never seen him before. “You look too fucking good. Are you hard?” Jamie was ravenous. His whispers were dry, desperate.

“Uh Jaim, what?” Dean asked as Jamie grabbed at his mound. “Yeah of course but seriously?”

“I know. Sorry I’m just so fucking starved of you.” Jamie recoiled petulantly.

“Baby, look at me.” Dean was back to being in control. He grabbed Trouble’s chin.

“I know. I’m so happy, but I can’t trust myself around you. I never have been able to.” He smiled wickedly again as his knee rounded into Dean’s crotch.

“Babe, I’d giving nothing more than to take you upstairs and have you scream our new last name for hours.” He bit Jamie’s lip. “But.”

“Uh huh?” Jamie grabbed his face.

“You want my stubble down there baby?”

“Yes.”

“You want my hands ripping these thighs and that fucking fantastic ass apart?”

“Fuck Dean.” Jamie lay back, Dean kissed his Adam’s apple.

“Want this tongue to make your toes curl to the point they fucking break? Huh?” Dean gripped his throat.

“Um hmm.”

“Need this deep inside?” Dean shoved his mound hard between Jamie’s legs. A clatter of glassware trembled.

“Always.” Jamie reached up and yanked at his satin lapels.

“Then you’ll just have to wait.” Dean receded to his feet, tapping Jamie on the nose with deliberate patronising delicacy. “Come on Trouble, we have a wedding to attend. I promise to make it worth your while.” He came back up and turned Jamie round. Sliding his middle finger into Jamie’s trousers, between his cheeks. Gripping his chest. Jamie gasped. “I’ll make my husband cum tonight. I won’t rest until you do.” He pulled his hand back, slapped Jamie’s behind and walked cockily away. Gesturing Jamie to follow. “Come the fuck on Arden-Archer.”

Jamie walked past and grabbed his face. “You’re fucking mine tonight. Don’t get too drunk. Bring your A game.”

They grinned at each other. Fighting talk. They walked back out into their day.

Author Note: New chapters will be released weekly, possibly twice weekly as we approach the second and concluding half of Back To Us.

I’m blown away by the wonderful feedback this story has received. Thank you for the encouraging words and patience. Life is a little busy right now, for wonderful reasons, but I cannot wait to share the rest of this story. What started as a chapter has quickly become easily two. Editing down didn’t do it justice so we’re going to spend a little more time in Oxford at Highcroft Hall. Grab a glass of champagne and enjoy!