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faithinus · 2 years ago

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To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, rpf, fem!reader, panic attack

Author’s note: when i reached 7K i kind of knew the poll’s results wouldn’t matter to me anymore – there is going to be a part 11, or an epilogue if you will, because there’s just... it’s just too much. I need to thank @thebellenouvelle for the inspiration behind eyelid kisses, and @alwayslindie for fisticuffs (ifykyk) SO SORRY BUT THIS IS NOT THE END pls enjoy

Wordcount: 7.1K

Today was not the day you expected to find yourself in a dark coat closet of a hotel suite, hiding from your friends with Joe's hand covering your mouth as you made big shocked eyes at him.

Today was about Poppy and Mark.

The happy couple. Getting married. Mark, and Poppy. Poppy, and Mark.

It was about them. Full focus just on your friends. Just on his friends. Nothing else. No one else.

So then why the fuck had Joe hurriedly pushed you into a closet in a full scuffle of frantic limbs when he heard Poppy and Mark outside the door? And why did you, despite still being so angry, and hurt, and so fucking embarrased - why did you like it?

Joe had to recount his steps. How did he get here? How did he find himself in a small, enclosed space that instantly created a sense of intimacy and closeness which intensified all and any existing feelings he had towards you?

Joe remembered having looked himself in the eye in his hallway mirror that morning, right before he headed out, and had sighed deeply at his own reflection.

Today was going to be impossible.

He thought about setting reminders on his phone because he knew, he fucking knew his mind would be with you all day. Guilt and shame and embarrassment and, God he felt so awful.

As he should. He was well aware.

But today was about Poppy. Poppy and Mark. And yes, he was going to be seeing you again, which... ugh, he could eat himself alive at the prospect.

For two and a half weeks after he'd gotten to touch you, and smell you, and taste you - Jesus Christ Joe had actually gotten so much more than he'd ever even dreamt of - he had almost reached out thousands of times. Had hovered fingers over a text thread. Over your name in his contact list.

But what was he going to say?

How was he going to break the ice? The thick, thick, thick thick ice that had frozen over because of his doing. He'd known the second your front door fell shut behind him that he'd done the wrong thing. That'd he had fucked up in a way he knew he could never come back from.

Joe was the worst.

When Joe thought of you now, it didn't involve swooning or tender romantic feelings. Instead, it was all gut-wrenching guilt and violent shame that made him want to hide himself away.

The thing he'd been so scared of, the chance of things going wrong and ending badly between the two of you, had happened before anything had even really started at all. He'd been left humiliated by his own actions, and couldn't even begin to imagine how you must have felt. Left disheartened by the vast impact of his mistakes and the loss of something that he had never even had made him want to get away. To leave. To move abroad and not tell anyone. If he could, Joe would happily disappear and skip this whole wedding all together.

Obviously, he couldn't.

Today was about Poppy. Poppy and Mark.

And Joe was the maid of honour after all. And so, after a last stern look at himself, Joe walked out and made his way over to where Poppy and her gaggle of bridesmaids were meeting to get ready for the big day.

In your flat, you gave the e-mail a last once over.

Joe had e-mailed you a week ago. You still had to go over your speeches, and instead of being a normal person and perhaps reaching out to apologise, to maybe talk things through - instead of that, he'd gone and sent you an e-mail.

An e-mail.

And it was all professional too, which was... you couldn't even begin to organise your feelings about it. He'd attached his speech 'for your acknowledgement' and you'd had to drink three fat glasses of wine before you'd been able to read it.

It had the audacity to be good. Rude. It made you rewrite your whole speech with a clenched jaw whilst tipsy and you'd regretted not backing up what you'd previously written the next morning, because you definitely had only made it worse.

But.

Today was about Mark. About Mark and Poppy.

Not about how angry you still were with Joe. Not about all that weaponized disappointment you could feel sit inside of your chest that hadn't gone anywhere, because you weren't going to be the one to reach out to Joe, were you?

You were stubborn like that. Embarrassed like that. Because Joe had fucked up, and in doing so, for some weird fucked up reason, you now had feelings for Joe.

Very real feelings that were conflicting and painful and so, so stupid. It made it all too easy to pivot the anger and aim all of its arrows right at yourself, when, no. Joe had fucked up. Not you.

Joe was the one that fucked up and, Joe could be the one to fix it, too.

You know, if you'd actually let him. You weren't sure if you'd even let him, but you wanted to see him at least attempt it. It was the least you deserved, you thought. And then after that, you could just avoid him for the rest of your life. You'd work something out. Find a system. Something.

So then... how had you even allowed yourself to be shoved into a closet by Joe before he quickly stepped inside himself and closed the door, engulfing the both of you in darkness? And why did Joe feel that it was totally okay to press his full palm over your mouth in order to make sure you didn't respond when Poppy and Mark walked in and called out for you?

As you had made your way over to the hotel suite where Mark and his groomsmen were going to be getting ready, you tried to get rid of the exasperated feeling in your fingertips at the prospect of having to be near Joe all day.

But the feeling was still there when you walked in and got hugs from all the heavily-cologned men who were all scattered throughout the room, each attending to their own individual tasks. Some were carefully doing their hair, others were using lintrollers all over themselves, and you spotted two of them keeping busy polishing their shoes to a high shine.

The feeling was still there when you let a photographer into the room, to take some photographs of the camaraderie and brotherhood among the groomsmen as they joked and teased each other. Men being men, boys being boys, with you mixed in among them, the only one not in a matching suit.

And the feeling was still there when all of them made you help them with their ties.

All together they were a picture of elegance and sophistication, but beneath the surface, you could feel the excitement and anxious anticipation for what the day held. Everyone was a little nervous, and obviously Mark probably was a lot nervous, but fucking hell, why couldn't your hands stop shaking? The bottle of whiskey Mark's brother opened, because, "the girls are having champagne, aren't they?" really helped, and, yes, you hated whiskey, but fuck it, please, let's fucking go.

You used the excuse of having to put your dress on to slip into the bathroom. In there you took your sweet time, because the large bathroom gave you some time to yourself, and all the cool luxurious white marble that surrounded you in there was calming.

When you stepped back out, the groomsmen were just on their way out, following the photographer who was going to use them for test shots.

"My turn," Mark said to you as the door fell shut, leaving the large suite quiet, and he held out his tie for you to help him with.

You grinned and took it, glad you were given a task you could manage. Maybe that was the secret. Just keep your mind occupied the whole day. Right in the middle of doing a full Windsor knot, Mark suddenly placed both palms over your biceps and ducked his head down a little to force eye-contact.

"It's all going according to plan, isn't it? We're on schedule, right?"

"Of course we are," you said, but Mark could see your eyes find the clock on the far end of the room behind him to check.

"We're actually ahead of schedule, which is great," you said, finishing off his tie and making sure it was straight before you patted him over his chest.

"So, then... why are you shaking?"

You paused and curled both hands into fists to hide whatever shaking Mark had detected.

"It's just... my best friend is getting married today," you said quasi-casual, trying to make Mark laugh. "It's kind of a huge deal."

You looked up to see Mark's hair was flipping outward over his ears, and you used both your palms to flatten the hair, to push it back the way you knew Poppy liked it.

"Speaking of huge deals," Mark started, and for a second you made eye contact before stepping away. Off to find your make-up bag that you'd brought with you.

"When were you going to tell me that you've had Joe over at yours?"

Bent over your bag on the floor, your froze immediately. Who had said what to who and, what did Mark know?

He might not have known anything.

Just that Joe dropped you off at your flat the night of the stag do.

"Poppy told me," Mark continued after you hadn't moved from your position, hovering over your bag still, and you didn't know what to respond.

Of course Poppy had told Mark, because Joe had told her and Joe was the worst person alive, so that checked out. Of course that's what happened. The man couldn't tell his best friend about you sleeping in his bed fully dressed that one time, but this, this was fine.

Joe could go suck a thousand dicks.

"Joe said you kissed,"

Ah.

Just kissed, huh? Was that all he had said?

All right.

You cleared your throat and finally got back up, make-up bag in hand that you zipped open.

"We did."

You tried your bestest best to sound so very casual about it, but feared that the tone of your voice had just given away too much. You couldn't look Mark in the eye. Had to keep your eyes at the make-up bag in your hands as you searched for the lipstick that was a quintessential part of your look.

How did you ever think Mark wasn't going to see right through you?

"Do you like him?" Mark frowned through a small smile as he asked the careful question. There was no judgment. There was definitely confusion, though, and he stepped a little closer to not have this conversation across the whole room.

Did you like Joe?

Ugh.

Where to even fucking begin?

You bit both your lips into your mouth, squeezed the tube of lipstick in your fist and looked at Mark a second as he stopped right in front of you.

"Hey," he poked your arm with a finger by ways of showing affection, the way siblings would do. "It's okay if you do."

A loud, deep and very annoyed sigh left you as you frowned deeply, because you were meant be all angry with Joe, and you were, but, what the fuck? Yes. You liked him. It was confusing and infuriating, but you did. Joe had been weird and distant, but then also sweet and kind, and he'd hugged you and made sure you didn't have to walk home late at night all alone, and had let you spent the night in his bed and hadn't taken advantage, and then he had kissed you, and for three seconds, there had been more than kissing before all of it had ended and now...

Now?!

Now you wanted more.

Didn't people always want what they couldn't have?

Now wasn't the time, though.

Because today was about Mark and about Poppy and about them together.

Not about you. Or about Joe.

So you just shrugged, signaling that you didn't want to get into it and said, "Joe's a weirdo," which made Mark laugh. That, in turn, made you smile.

Mark looked good. Radiant and happy, tie all straight and his hair the way Poppy liked it.

"Got your vows?" you asked, trying to round this up, and thank fuck, Mark just went with it as he patted his chest over the pocket of his jacket.

"Rings?" you asked, holding your hand out, and for a moment, you were ready for a snarky comment. For the same joke you'd heard time and time again for months now. But it didn't come. Mark just went, "Yes," and found the little red box that held both wedding bands inside.

"Here you go. Guard it with your life."

"I will. Promise I won't–"

You were about to reference the joke yourself, but were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Mark went to answer it, and you stole the moment to quickly do your lipstick in the full sized mirror. Mark didn't look through the peephole before he opened the door, so there was zero warning, and you almost left a fat stripe of lipstick all across your cheek when you turned your head at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," Joe smiled politely, hand scratching the back of his head, in the middle of a deep breath. You could tell he was nervous.

Good.

"The bride has requested to talk to you,"

"Oh no, cold feet?" Mark joked and turned his head to find your face to laugh with you. Except you weren't laughing, because you were still applying lipstick and pretending that Joe wasn't standing in the doorway.

"Um- no, not you, sorry. Poppy needs some girl talk."

Poppy had seven bridesmaids.

Poppy probably hadn't had anything but girl talk all morning.

But sure. You could go talk to Poppy.

You didn't look Joe in the eye when you walked past Mark, touched his arm and said you'd see him in a bit. Told him he should probably also go see his parents before the ceremony, and snuck past Joe, who stepped aside and gave you all the space and then some. Which offended you.

He could've done whatever, actually, and it would have offended you.

As you made your way down the hallway, you heard Mark say, "Actually, now that I've got your here, can you..." before it trailed off and the door closed.

Interesting... not suspicious at all.

You had to promise yourself you weren't going to drive yourself insane today, weren't going to fret over what information Joe and Mark would share with each other, and instead went over the itinerary in your mind several times. It did a great job of calming you down a bit, especially since so far, everything was on schedule.

"I have a confession to make," Poppy blurted out the second you saw each other.

She looked gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.

"Uh oh," was all you managed to say before closing the door behind you.

"You are here for one reason, and one reason only, which is that Mark wanted to talk to Joe and I had to get you out of the room,"

You gave Poppy a blank stare before narrowing your eyes at her.

"What's with the secrecy... he could've just said–"

"They have... things to talk about," Poppy said, giving you a pointed look. "Don't they?"

You weren't sure what she was insinuating, but you had an inkling that she wanted you to spill the beans. Which you weren't going to do.

"Well... Mark's getting married to his best friend, I'm sure they've got lots to talk–"

"I've got another confession," Poppy frowned and waved a hand, dismissing what you'd tried to sell her would be their topic of conversation.

You couldn't help but frown deeply at her in response.

"I'm not sure I like all these confessions, Pop,"

"It's my wedding day," Poppy resonated, grabbing both of your hands in hers and wiggling them around a bit. "Let me get all of this out, please."

You closed your eyes and breathed through flared nostrils, keeping quiet, silently granting Poppy permission to confess whatever needed confessing.

You knew exactly what was coming.

"Joe told me you kissed."

"Yea, I gathered," you said flatly, letting unwilling laughter escape you when you opened your eyes to see Poppy biting down on her bottom lip to hide her excitement. This wasn't what you expected from her. "Mark let something slip earlier."

"No!" Poppy groaned immediately. "Ugh... Joe said I wasn't allowed to tell Mark, but Mark promised me he wouldn't tell you!"

It was official. This little group of grown ass whole adults could keep no secrets from each other, ever.

"Did um... did Joe tell you about what happened?" you tried, carefully, because this was meant to be Poppy's most important day ever and you didn't want to ruin it.

But your expression made hers falter.

"He didn't..." Poppy stared into space as she thought back a second. "But, to be fair, he told me you kissed and I... I kind of... even if he wanted to tell me more about it, he couldn't have, because I freaked out,"

You winced a little. Wanted to apologise, even though you knew within your soul you'd done nothing wrong.

"No, no, don't worry, it was the good kind of freak out. Are you joking? You and Joe? I knew something was up when I saw you hug outside that day, and now, this is so great, it's–"

"Pop..." you started, and shut her up instantly.

Besides the fact that you had never expected this reaction from her at all, Poppy clearly had only heard a very small little titbit of what had transpired that night. You wondered how Joe had even brought it up in conversation with her, and what the vibe had been.

Her eyebrows knitted together, copying yours, and you sighed.

"Oh no..." Poppy knew something was up. "What did he do?"

And yea, what did he do was the right question to ask, it kind of made your insides shriek. But this wasn't the time to answer it. Not the time to reveal to Poppy how her friend had done you wrong. Instead, you smiled and cupped Poppy's face with both your hands, told her she was beautiful and that today was about her and about Mark and that you'd talk about this later.

For a second it looked like Poppy wasn't going to accept the postponing, but an urgent raise of your eyebrows in question made her give you a little nod.

"Come here, you pretty bitch," you said, grinning wide before pulling her into a hug. "You look like a princess,"

"I feel like one," Poppy spoke, voice a little strained from how tight you squeezed her.

"I can't believe Mark gets to marry you," you said when you pulled back, and kind of meant it. Poppy was too good for him.

"Meh, we'll see," Poppy quipped. "I could still run." she shrugged one shoulder which made you laugh and then squeeze her even tighter than before. Poppy was far too good for him.

On your way back over to the groom's suite, you walked with stiff arms that held two hands with crossed fingers down at the end.

Please don't run into Joe. Please don't run into Joe. Please, don't run into Joe.

You turned a corner and...

There he was.

A mere few feet away from you.

For a split second you contemplated walking backwards, back around that corner, just, rewinding yourself in time and hiding somewhere so you wouldn't be forced to have whatever awkward exchange this was going to be. But Joe had seen you. You couldn't pretend you hadn't spotted each other, and so you didn't.

"Hey," Joe called, and it seemed a bit urgent. Like he was glad he had just ran into you.

You just gave him one of those polite nods. The kind you'd give a the driver of a car that stopped to let you cross at a zebra crossing. You even almost added the half-wave – just a raised hand with only the index finger flexed.

Joe'd stopped walking, but you were about to whizz right past him because you weren't going to do this – didn't want to do this.

But then Joe grabbed you by the arm and it stopped you in your tracks. His soft touch lit you full body on fire.

"This is yours," Joe said, holding out a white plastic card. The hotel key to the groom's suite. "Mark went to go see his parents."

You took it from him, eyes not meeting his. You couldn't.

"Listen, I need to– want to... I want to apologise, for– um, for not reaching out sooner, and, I mean, not that you–" Joe stumbled through his words and suddenly had to cough loudly after choking on his own spit. "Excuse me– sorry. I have to, um, apologise for–"

"Let's not..." you started and looked down at where Joe was still holding your arm.

Joe followed your gaze and startled himself, quickly letting go.

"Just... let's just stick to wedding stuff today, all right?" had this been a month ago, you'd have given Joe a polite smile at this point. But this wasn't a month ago. This was now, and Joe had humiliated you in the most extreme manner you had ever been humiliated – had left you dripping with your own arousal and his pre-cum with a full tit out in your kitchen. Said he'd see you around.

This didn't really count as around, you thought.

You saw how dismissing his attempt at an apology completely worked something behind his eyes before he gave you a quick nod.

"Yes," he looked down at his own feet a second before looking back up at you. "Of course. Did you– I sent over my speech, um, last week. Did you get–"

"Got it."

This chat needed to be over.

"You never replied."

"I didn't."

You couldn't muster up anything but coldness for Joe. Distance. The same type of harshness sharp by the edges that Joe had reserved for you for years. You were treating Joe the way he had treated you forever. It was kind of the only way to go about it, because you were angry and Joe needed to feel that you were angry, but you also knew, you fucking knew that the second you'd drop this hard exterior, you'd absolutely fold for this man.

"But I received it fine."

You would've stuck a thanks to the end of that sentence if you weren't so fucking stubborn.

"So, you ready for the day? Got your own speech? Got the rings?"

Oh, motherfucker thought he could be cute and joke, did he? You were mid-way through an eye roll when you suddenly stopped breathing.

No.

Your eyes grew twice its size.

No.

"What– what's wrong?"

You'd never quite felt a panic take completely hold of your entire being quite so fast. This was no slow-building storm but instead an instant raging tempest within your chest.

You were immediately sweating when you realised you didn't have the rings.

Where were the fucking rings?!

Mark had given you the rings, you'd applied your lipstick, and then you'd gone to visit Poppy in the bridal suite. Had you even taken them to the bridal suite?

Your chest constricted itself into a tightness you hadn't experienced so lucidly before, which made you only more aware of how fast your heart was beating and what the fuck was happening?

"Are you– Jesus, breathe," Joe grabbed you by both upper arms, and you spluttered through a big inhale, noticing the sudden heat within your face and why did it feel like you were on a rollercoaster ride hurtling towards an inevitable crash?

"The rings," you managed to squeak out before turning your head towards the bridal suite from which you came.

No.

It couldn't be in there.

You hadn't touched anything in there. Hadn't placed anything down anywhere. Groom's suite. It had to be in the groom's suite still.

"You lost the rings?"

Just for a second, you looked Joe in the eye, both entirely blank faced, faces reading nothing, before your brain managed to tell your legs to tell your feet to start moving and Joe let go of you.

Your dazed walk quickly turned into a frenzied run down the hotel corridors, and Joe followed you on your tail.

"Mark!" you called out, hurriedly knocking on the door when you reached it.

"Key, key, you've got the– use the key," Joe scrambled, about to take the plastic card from your hands, but you wildly evaded him and shakily opened the door yourself.

Inside, you immediately traced your own steps.

"Red box," you panted. "It's a little red box, square, rounded corners, bright, bright red,"

And without thinking, Joe started throwing pillows from the sofa, pulling sheets from the beds and tipping over whichever bin he could find.

The two of you turned the entire room upside down, all anger and awkwardness forgotten for a second.

But it was nowhere to be found.

No red box.

Fuck.

How could you mess up this fucking badly?

You felt your throat grow rigid, the panic intensifying and overwhelming you until it was too much to bear. Sliding both hands into your hair, you closed your fingers and pulled. You couldn't cry. Had to keep a level head. Think straight.

Mark was going to murder you.

You couldn't cry.

"Let's hit the bridal suite," Joe said, jumping from the bed, over the covers that were now splayed out across the floor, jogging past you towards the door.

"They've got to be either here, or there," Joe reasoned, and you knew he was right, but... but what if he wasn't?

"Come on," Joe said, beckoning you, and you were about to blindly follow him when suddenly, he stopped. He froze completely and you nearly crashed into him.

Voices.

Mark and Poppy.

No.

Joe pushed you back inside and quickly closed the door. You saw him look behind you, the room a full mess, and then, without much thinking, opened the coat closet to his side that he then shoved you into.

"What– Joe!"

"Quiet!"

Joe pushed you deeper into the closet, following you inside before quickly and quietly closing the doors behind you. It was all just in time, as you heard the small beep from the door unlocking as Mark and Poppy walked into the suite.

They called out for you and for Joe, and you could heard Mark go, "Jesus, what happened in here?"

All you could think about was that Poppy and Mark weren't supposed to even see each other before the ceremony. Not because anyone thought it would be bad luck, they didn't buy into that shit, but because you knew Poppy, and Poppy wanted that big entrance, that big reveal that would get Mark all choked up.

You were about to step out, about to say something, but Joe sensed it and so with both arms he held you in place, folding one palm right over your mouth so you wouldn't make a peep.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the dark, and you could barely make out Joe's face, but everything felt like he was being absolutely serious.

So there you were, pressed up against each other, both bodies impossibly tense, wholly focused on staying quiet.

"Well, they've clearly been in here," you could hear Poppy say.

"What the–" Mark's voice sounded far away, and you could picture him walking around the entire suite, taking in the mess that you and Joe had just created mere seconds ago.

"Did they fight? Like, full fisticuffs you think?"

"No, I think they were looking for this, look," you could practically hear the smile in Poppy's voice, and inside the closet, you and Joe frowned at each other.

"What are you..." Mark gasped. "Poppy! How did you get a hold of those?"

No fucking way.

You had touched one thing in the bridal suite. You had touched Poppy.

You peeled Joe's fingers from your face to mouth, "the rings," at him with wild eyes. As a precaution Joe raised his fingers up to his mouth, signaling you to stay quiet. Which you were. Joe could fuck off.

"Took them,"

"No, babe... that's not funny–"

"It's not meant to be funny, it's meant to create a little hiccup that–"

"A little hiccup?!"

"Mark, listen! Think about it... who is going to help her find them?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

Poppy could fuck off too.

"You're aware she's going to stab you with the cake knife later if she ever finds out about this?"

"She won't get the chance to, because she'll be too busy making out with Joe."

A silence fell within the hotel suite, and you were suddenly very aware of how the enclosed space you were in started growing hotter.

"Mark, he's been in love – like, actual love with her for fucking ages, if we don't help them out at least a little, nothing's ever going to happen,"

What the fuck?!

You saw in real time how Joe went from looking all stern, fully focussed on making sure that you kept quiet in every sense of the word, to his full face scrunching up before his head dropped down entirely, nearly head-butting you in the process.

"It's my wedding day. I deserve this." Poppy continued, and you heard Mark scoff.

"And I'm sure that for today, you'll be excused. But there's going to be a tomorrow," Mark was ever the voice of reason.

Meanwhile, Joe hoped the coat closet was dark enough for you not to see how his entire face had turned beet-red, or how his heart was trying to jump its way out of his chest. He still had you wrapped up in his hold, so he logically understood there was no hiding anything.

But still. Joe could hope.

"You know what he said to me?"

Fuck, fuck. Poppy shut the fuck up.

Joe was about to move his hands to cover your ears, but in a small scramble, you managed to grab hold of both his wrists and pushed them down.

Joe's elbow nearly knocked into the panel behind him.

"He said he cares too much, like, cares about her, and that he just wants to hold her hand and kiss her over the eyelids... he wants to kiss her eyes, Mark. You've never kissed me on the eyes before."

"Come here,"

"No! It's too late for you!"

"Too late?! We're getting married!"

Outside of the closet, the mood turned playful and you heard Poppy shriek followed by footsteps that chased each other.

Inside the coat closet, the air was thick. You were so aware of your breathing, of where your bodies were touching, and of Joe's eyes on you. He looked mortified.

"You care too much?" you mouthed, completely inaudible but for the movement your tongue made within your mouth.

Joe nodded, but it was careful. Insecure, almost.

You frowned and shook your head.

Joe couldn't care too much. Joe was a friend of a friend who never really took to you. Always remained aloof and stand-offish. Was weird around you. Made no contact, and then when he did, made misplaced jokes.

"You left me,"

Joe closed his eyes, and in the little light that the doors let in, you could see his jaw tense and nostrils flare.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Joe let a little bit of his whispered voice slip through as he spoke on an exhale

Your frown deepened.

"I care," Joe followed up, completely silent again, and for a moment the two of you listened to Poppy and Mark going around and putting the room back together. Shuffling of duvets, thumps of cushions being thrown, and had you not been staring into Joe's eyes whilst being pressed up against him in a space far too small for two adults to spend this much time in, you would've stopped them. They were in their wedding outfits. Tidying a hotel suite ahead of their own wedding. What the fuck were they doing?

But it just so happened to be that you were staring into Joe's eyes whilst being pressed up against him in a space far too small for two adults to spend this much time in. And then Joe's lashes fluttered as he looked down at your lips and...

Joe was in love with you?

Had that registered properly?

Were you able to process that right now?

Fingers then curled around your neck, and soft palms pressed up underneath your jaw.

For a moment, you just stood like that. Shaky breaths, trying to stay quiet still, and God, it was so fucking hot in there.

But there was not a chance you were going to break away now.

This coat closet suddenly was the exact right place you needed to be.

You were already so tense, were still sweating from the panicked search for the rings, and then tension built up even further as your noses touched.

"I care,"

You automatically closed your eyes and let your mouth fall open in a little gasp before you kissed Joe. It felt like he'd been waiting, because the frevour with which he returned the kiss was on a whole different level. Joe guided your head, turned it so he got the best access and licked his way into your mouth like a starved man.

It made all tension slip off of you.

The shakes you had earlier, when you had help Mark get ready? You could feel them pour from your finger tips. The anxiety you'd felt when you'd ran into Joe in the corridor? Ran down your frame like water off a duck's back.

Joe was making out with you, and it was a perfect push and pull of hot breath, wet lips and soft tongues.

It was really fucking hot, and you allowed yourself to forget everything for a second.

You couldn't forget that you had to stay quiet.

No noises allowed.

You couldn't make any sounds. If you didn't, this would last longer, so you really tried.

Your hands found Joe's hair, and you let your fingers slip into it, scraping his scalp as you did and it made Joe pull your face back a little.

"Don't," he mouthed, worried he was going to be the one to make a noise, but dove back into your mouth immediately.

It made your knees nearly give out. You were folding. Folding hard, and folding fast.

So.

You knew you were hiding in a closet with two of your friends on the other side of the doors somewhere still, but, how much convincing would you need to do to let Joe finish what he'd started weeks ago?

The second you thought it, you heard Joe's throat stutter.

Probably not a lot, then.

You wrapped both arms around Joe's neck and were about to hike up a leg, let Joe know what you wanted from him, but, that ruined everything.

Because your knee knocked into the panel behind Joe loudly.

The two of you stilled instantly, and your face grimaced. That hurt, but moreso, that was far too loud for Mark and Poppy not to have heard.

Shit.

You waited in complete silence, frozen on the spot, breaths held, both with huge eyes, and listened for a reaction.

But you got none.

It was silent in the hotel suite, and for a moment, you considered just opening the door and peeking out. Maybe they had left already. There was a huge chance you hadn't noticed.

But then, footsteps.

"Okay, let's go!" Poppy said, her voice raised to a volume it didn't need for Mark to hear her.

"The ceremony is in about half an hour, best not be late!" Mark replied, uncharacteristically chipper, voice becoming louder as he walked right past the coat closet that held the two of you inside.

You were holding your breath for fear of Mark hearing you and pulling open the doors to reveal the two of you completely entangled with each other.

That didn't happen though.

Instead, you heard the door open, heard them walk out, and then heard the door fall shut.

It took less than a second for the two of you to fall out of the closet into the cool air of the hotel suite.

And there it was.

Sat right in the middle of the hotel suite, promptly placed centre stage so you couldn't possibly miss it.

The red ring box.

Fuck.

They had obviously heard you.

You picked it up and turned to show Joe, but when you made eye-contact, the both of you gasped.

Your lipstick was fucking everywhere.

Joe looked shocked and anticipated your panicked state to fully grab a hold of you again. He was ready to go straight back into apologising. Reassuring. Calming you down. Comforting you.

But then you burst out into laughter.

This was so stupid.

Joe didn't know if you were laughing at the absurdity of the situation, or if you were laughing at what he looked like with lipstick smeared all over his face. He didn't care. You were laughing, and it felt like genuine, honest laughter. Sounded like music.

"Come here," you said and beckoned him to follow you into the bathroom where you still couldn't stop the giggles as you opened a packet of make-up wipes.

"Oh Jesus," you said when you saw your own reflection, and the laughter picked up once more.

Joe couldn't help but laugh along.

This was a delicious way to break any and all tension, and Joe knew he'd be apologising for... well, for forever. But it'd be worth it.

You knew Joe loved you now.

With a smile still plastered on your face, you took hold of Joe by the chin and with a wipe wrapped around your fingers, started cleaning off the maroon smudges.

"My eyelids, Joe?"

Joe grimaced, but let out a huffed laugh as he did. He blushed and looked down as he pursed his lips, trying to minimize the smile he had going.

"Well, anywhere, really," Joe couldn't lie. He didn't just want to kiss you on the eyelids. He kind of wanted to kiss you all over.

His answer made your breath hitch in your throat as your face slowly fell.

Joe was in love with you.

You didn't understand how that could be true. How that could even work.

Joe didn't say anything, but watched as the cogs turned in your head and you stared right at his chest with the make-up wipe hovering in front of him for a moment.

Joe was in love with you.

Suddenly your snapped back up at him.

"I'm still mad at you,"

"Yes, of course," Joe immediately accepted the fact that you were.

"That's going to take me a minute,"

"I'll make it up to you," Joe smiled sweetly as his eyebrows knitted together.

He looked cute like that.

"I'm not sure if you can,"

Another silence lingered, and you decided it didn't need more words from you. So you got back to ridding Joe's face off of your make-up, and then bent closer towards the mirror and cleaned up your own face. Joe gazed at you intently as you did, and when you made eye-contact through the mirror, he loudly cleared his throat and pretended something needed doing outside of the bathroom.

Joe was an idiot.

Made you smile.

Ugh. Fuck.

Yea all right. You guessed Joe's awkwardness could be cute now, or whatever.

Jesus Christ.

You finished redoing your lipstick, and you could still faintly see how the smears had stained your skin, but this was going to have to do.

You were going to go down and get through this wedding and pretend nothing had happened and you were ready for it. Were going to power through this. You were tough. And strong. You were going to give a killer speech, make sure the cake cutting happened at the right exact time, and would get enough people to fill out the dance floor in the right amount of time with the right music playing.

You were an amazing best man, and this was the time to really fucking prove it to everyone.

You stepped out of that bathroom, chest puffed out, shoulders pushed back with your back as straight as you were going to get it.

You felt like superwoman.

"Ready? Let's go." you didn't wait for Joe to answer as you marched towards the door.

"Um," Joe said, and you heard the soft snap of the ringbox closing.

"Oh my God,"

You were an idiot.

Joe threw you the box, and you caught it with one hand, impressing yourself as well as Joe. You gave the small little red box a once over in your palm as Joe walked past you, opening the door before stepping aside to let you through first.

"Hey,"

Joe stopped you right in the doorway, fingers around your arm the way Joe always seemed to stop you.

You looked at each other a second, and you could see his eyes flick down towards your lips again.

"Fresh lipstick, Joe," you commented, but couldn't help the curling of the corners of your mouth.

"I didn't say anything," Joe feigned innocence. Pretended he didn't want to bend down to give you another kiss. But in a second, you'd be at Mark and Poppy's wedding and it would be all about them.

About Mark and Poppy. About Poppy and Mark. Not about you. Or about him. Or about you and him. Him and you.

And you felt it. Felt what Joe felt. Almost wished you didn't, but not because you didn't want to, but because the timing of it was so awful.

"Here,"

You had an idea. A risky one. But you were going to go for it. Because Joe was in love with you.

You took hold of his wrist, and raised Joe hand to your mouth where you pressed a soft kiss right into his palm.

It made Joe groan as you made eye-contact with him.

You checked and saw you left a perfect kiss print on his skin, and just to be a little gross, because you really were angry with him still, you followed it up with a quick lick. It made Joe pull back his hand as he laughed.

"Let's go," you fought a smile of your own as you both left the hotel suite, ready to make your way down to see your best friends get married to each other.

Joe was in love with you.

And you couldn't fucking believe it, and definitely weren't going to admit it. Not to Joe. Not to yourself. Not to anyone. Not today, at least.

But Joe was in love with you, and you were in love with Joe.

Joe was in love with you.

And you were in love with Joe. ---

(just letting you know, once again, this is NOT the end, there WILL be a final part!)

--- The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

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