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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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if we have eachother (Branjie/Ninex/Kasia/Trixya/Everyone) 3/5 - PinkGrapefruit

chapter one.

chapter two.

chapter three. in which family means love

A/N - It’s been a while and life hit me like a freight train but I’m so glad to be back to these characters. Thank you to meggie for the endless headcanons, frey for being a goddess (and my beta) and linda for being… well, linda. And to you guys! you truly don’t know how much your comments helped me to write this chapter. I read every single one and i am beyond grateful - this one is for you. Enjoy!

Brooke and Vanessa plan a January wedding, and when they say ‘they’ planned the wedding, they really mean Vanessa planned it, and Brooke tested the wine list. They book the venue a year in advance, but do the rest of it just after the twins turn twelve, settling into their rebellious phase in a way that only a Mateo legacy could.

Vanessa knew this was coming, could feel it bubbling under the surface after the first day of middle school when Allie had tearfully met him at the car, huffed “why can’t we be normal?”, but refused to discuss it further. He and Brooke had established how to handle it at length, both aware that they just needed to be honest, and had planned on addressing it in dummer, it just hadn’t been that easy. Life never is.

It’s Monday (his mama always used to tell him that nothing good ever happens on Mondays) and Brooke picks the kids up from school, so he can finish choreographing something for the local hip-hop class. Noah storms through the door first, the usually peaceful boy moving like a hurricane as he storms up the stairs. Allie runs through next, following her brother’s footsteps, as Brooke slides onto a stool at the breakfast bar, head coming to rest on the cool granite.

“What the hell?”

Brooke lifts his head from the table and mutters “I need a drink after that car ride,” before slamming it back down, letting out a quiet groan when he hits it a little harder than he intended.

“Brock, what the actual fuck?”

“Some kids said something,” The other man sighs and pulls his half empty coffee mug from after lunch towards him. It is cold and certainly not tequila, but it’ll do. He hums as he finishes it, watches his fiancé silently seethe for a little before he speaking up again. “I tried to ask.”

“I swear to fucking god, if them little fucking goblins talked shit to my kids, Imma beat their asses with my fucking good shoes. The spikey ones.” And Brooke has to move to grab his man’s arm, thumb rubbing soft circles on his skin. He doesn’t hold him back as the shorter man moves to go upstairs, only follows him quietly.

They open Allie’s door to find the twins huddled on her bed, embraced in a hug - Allie’s tear stained cheek resting on her brother’s bony shoulder.

“Baby girl,” Vanessa coos as he walks towards them, Brooke pausing at the door, still unsure of his position despite co-parenting the kids for almost all of their lives.

“Fuck off.”

It comes decided and clear-cut, leaves no room for errors or mis-hearing, as the words his daughter shouts ring harshly in his mind. It feels like a cold shower on a bitterly cold day, unwelcome and unasked for. Like being stabbed with a bread knife, jagged and crenulated, and all the more impactful. It’s salt in an open wound, and it stings like nothing else. He pushes back his shoulders, tries to conceal the way they are quivering with an air of false confidence, as he reaches to place a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not our real dad.”

He could have sworn he blacks out for a second there, it’s like asphyxiating and drowning and burning alive all at once. There is not enough air in the room, let alone in his lungs, and he knows without looking that Brooke has already been reduced to a sobbing mess.

“I know,” He whispers, voice breaking. “I know I’m not.”

“Then why are you fucking trying?”

If Allie’s anger licked his ears like burning flames, Noah is ice cold. He’s a Daddy’s boy in every way that Allie is a Papa’s girl. Was a Papa’s girl.

Brooke steps in and ushers Vanessa out of the room, barely shuts the door before they break down. The shorter man’s arms claw at his vest, nails desperately trying to hook onto some semblance of hope or a bit of Brooke’s shirt to ground him. They somehow make it down the stairs and collapse onto the couch and into each other, clinging onto it like a lifeboat in the middle of a deserted sea - lonely, utterly alone.

At some point they fall asleep, exhausted from the crushing weight of other people’s opinions, which seem intent on burning the house of cards they have built to the ground, holding each other to keep out the cold seeping from under the childrens’ doorways.

Brooke wakes up at 2am to the feeling of a lump on his chest, one with a lot of hair that smells like apples. This confuses him, Vanessa smells of pomegranate.

When they come to again, they discover the twins had crawled between them on the couch, and they wake them up softly. Vanessa realises how much he’d missed Noah’s smile, even if this one is the groggy ‘Papa, I don’t wanna’ smile.

“You kids ain’t going nowhere today,” he commands, as he moves to the coffee pot. “We are gonna handle this shit - I mean stuff - like adults. Now sit.” He gestures, mug in hand, to the dining room table and motions for Brooke to start on with the pancakes. He’s improved a lot over the years and it’s done in a little over twenty minutes. They sit in silence until the food is gone, and then he cradles his mug as they start to talk.

“What you said yesterday was out of line and, frankly, disrespectful,” Brooke starts, keeping a leveled voice and a respectful tone. “It hurt a lot and I just want to know where it came from.”

“Yeah, your dad is right, you kids have had a charmed ass life, and that was a low hanging fruit. Why?” His fiancé gives him a look as if to say ‘I said nothing of the sort’, but lets Vanessa take the lead.

“I - “ Noah starts, timidly, “Some kids, they said stuff ‘bout me and Allie being adopted and, and how we got real unlucky ‘cause we have two dads and, and -” he starts to sniffle a little and turns to Allie who is picking at the remainder of the blueberries on her plate.

“Yeah, and they took my Brooke and Nina badges off my jacket,” she huffs as she wipes the last of the juice off her thumb. Brooke tilts his head and sighs a little, grabbing Noah’s hand across the table.

“We’ve never lied to you kids, never grounded you and never stopped you from doing what you wanted, but that doesn’t mean you can lash out like that. I really thought that we’d taught you better.” the sincerity with which he says it sends shivers up Vanessa’s neck. “I want you to apologise to your Papa.”

“I’m sor - sorry Papa,” stutters Noah.

“Sorry Papa, sorry Dad.” responds Allie, soft smile lighting up her hazel eyes.

“In this house, we believe in full disclosure. I adopted you when you were three and a half. You were born in Oklahoma, raised by a mother who couldn’t take care of you, but loved you very much, and then you were handed to me, and it was the best day of my life. There will never be a better day than when I held you for the first time and knew that you were mine, and I was gonna work my ass off to make you good people. What you did today - that was… that shit was not cute. I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like for you, but this only works if you communicate with us, kiddos,” He leans into Brooke’s side with a heavy exhale. “You three are the best things to ever happen to me.”

Allie stands up and moves around the table to wrap her arms around Vanessa’s neck tightly. He rests his face in her hair, and if he breathes deeply enough, he can smell tour nights and first days of school and Disneyland. Noah chews on his lips a little, before joining the cuddle, and Brooke has to move, so that he can create a kiddo-sandwich between himself and the other man. “I love you Papa, Dad” mumbles Noah into his Papa’s shirt, and Brooke kisses the top of his messy brown hair with a smile. “You’re growing up, learn from this,” he replies softly, making eye contact with his partner just to check he’s doing the right thing. Vanessa smiles weakly and pushes his face back into his daughter’s curls.

Kameron and Asia invite them round to see their new place. The two have been happily (officially) married for years, and finally moved out of Kameron’s old apartment to have room to grow. The new condo comes with a massive garden, and Allie cannot get enough of it as she runs around like a lunatic, chased by the taller of the men, who taunts her in a mock southern accent while he leisurely jogs.

It’s a scorching hot day, and Asia comes out with a jug of pimms and a smile, as Brooke and Vanessa relax on the porch. They sip the drinks, cold against the heat of their bodies, and occasionally have to elbow their host who will not stop staring at his husband - shirt off, muscles rippling as he laughs. Brooke would be jealous of the way his fiancé stares, had he not been staring too.

Noah loves Kameron - always has, and they enlist Brooke to have a piggyback race up and down the garden, til the sun starts to set and they are bathed in a warm, golden light. Vanessa and Asia talk weddings, and Brooke and Kameron talk bathroom tiles, and it feels like a moment of solitude in the frenzy of life. Happiness distilled.

Nina and Monét babysit for the day, while Brooke and Vanessa go searching for suits. They’re four months into being parents and just about comfortable enough to think about looking after an additional two twelve-year-olds, who seem intent on doing nothing of what they are told. To satiate them (and Nina), Monét puts on the ‘Lion King’, but very quickly starts singing ‘Circle of life’ in operactics when Judah begins to fuss. Her boyfriend, god bless her, tries to harmonise, but Nina has never been known for the stellar high notes, and Noah plugs his ears in the corner of the sofa.

“Hun, Baby, Sugar Plum,” Monét chuckles as she rocks Judah, smoothing out the dalmationonsie the other man had dressed the 6 month old in after lunch. “How are the kids supposed to learn proper music theory if you aren’t modelling it for them?”

“Well, my love,” mocks Nina with a smile, as she pauses her excited singing at Allie and faces her boyfriend. “The little one is 6 months old, and the other two are descendants of Vanj. I really don’t think this can be too bad.” Monét hums a little, before pretending to waltz with Judah all the way through to the kitchen, feet in time to the off-key songs of his lover.

Noah looks like he wants to scream and laugh all at once. She doesn’t blame him.

A’keria and Silky come over for a movie night one day, the former bringing her nephew to hang out with the twins, while the grown-ups do grown-up things (eat cheese and watch “Clueless”).

It’s all going swimmingly, Silky hasn’t taught anyone any new phrases, and A’keria has resisted the urge to punch her for saying something dumb. Perfect.

When the film ends, all four of them a little tipsy on the good white wine that Brooke had found in the back of the cupboard, Vanessa turns to his friends with an excited smile and a twinkle in his eye (which has nothing to do with him being a little more drunk than the rest of them).

“Kiki, Big Silk,” He starts, laughing as Silky wiggles her eyebrows. “I have a prop- propositu- thing for you.”

“Spill.”

“I want you two hoes to be my groomsmen.”

He is cut off by squealing that can only be done by a wine-fuelled Silky, who launches herself forward in excitement. “Yes, bitch!”

“And Kiki?”

“Uhuh.”

“Would you be my best man? We both know that Silk can’t organise for shit.”

The man rolls her eyes, as if to say that she knew this was coming - and Vanessa isn’t wrong. Silky just asks for a speech, and as Brooke mutters something about a shit show under her breath, the Dreamgirls celebrate with more brie and olives.

They end up sleeping on the couch.

“FUCK OFF, GEOFFREY”

“COME THROUGH, FELICIA! HIT THE DAMN BUTTON.”

Vanessa calls midway through ‘Jeopardy’, and the only thing that stops Monét swearing down the line is the sleeping baby in her boyfriend’s arms.

“What?!” she hisses, pausing the television, much to the dismay of Nina. She rolls her eyes as the Puerto Rican rambles on about groomsmen, the annoyance fading into a soft smile as she realises just what she’s being asked. “Of course, I’d be honoured, José.” Nina looks up from placing soft kisses all over Judah’s face to mouth ‘What?’ and it makes Monét giggle a little. ‘Vanj wants a groomsman’ she mouths back, before zoning back into the conversation and realising that Vanessa has left her in the dust, and she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Yes, September, uhuh,” she agrees, “can I go back to watching 'Jeopardy’ now? Felicia is winning and me and my man are excited.”

Vanessa laughs down the line, muttering something about football being less of a sport as he hangs up.

“‘Nessa wants you as a groomsman?” Nina asks with a smile, genuine excitement on her face. “Judah wants to be a groomsman too,” she hoists the baby up, makes him pretend to stand, as she coos at him.

“You know Brooke’s gonna ask you too - I’m thinking best man.”

“We’ll see.” She says, but she smiles like she knows it’s true.

“‘Jeopardy’?”

Monét is just about to unpause the TV when a call comes through for Nina. She sighs and rolls her eyes at the prospect of having to wait, but takes the sleeping baby from her boyfriend, so that Nina can take the call.

“Andrew speaking. Brock? Hey, babe!” Monét watches as the other man’s smile grows into true ‘child at Disneyland’ proportions. “You know it would be an honour. Text me with the dates! I will fully plan anything, you know me. Love you too!”

She squeals when she gets off the phone, so loudly that her boyfriend has to shush her, pointing animatedly at the sleeping baby. Nina excitedly dances in the living room, and Monét is damn sure she hasn’t been this happy in a while.

For some reason, they reach Trixie on their list of possible babysitters in November. They’re not sure how, and they’re not sure why, but when they call her, she tells them she is free, and with little to no enthusiasm agrees to look after the ‘small children’ (her words) for the afternoon, while Brooke and Vanessa scout caterers. They invite her in, and give her the customary ‘this is where the glasses are, here’s the wine, don’t burn the house down’ tour (one that will have been useful by the end of the day), before leaving her, looking unhappy but patting a child’s head nonetheless, and go on their way.

They don’t know that Katya arrives mere minutes later, guitar in hand and manic smile on her face. The queen is significantly more excited about the children than her counterpart, and yet the twins still gravitate towards Trixie a little more. They watch cartoons for twenty minutes. Katya gets bored.

Later, someone will blame the shorter man for the smoke in the kitchen and the smug smiles on the kids’ faces. They will not know that Trixie played the guitar while Katya did a weird interpretive dance, one that backed her into the kitchen and led to her turning the oven on by accident. They will, however, discover the burnt lasagna that was stored there. Katya will deny all knowledge and Trixie will laugh.

The kids will plead the fifth and beg for Dominos for dinner. They will win.

Christmas in the Mateo-Hytes empire (as the twins had taken to referring to their household as) is not a subtle affair. The second the clock strikes midnight on November 30th, the decorations are out, so many that Brooke and Vanessa start to have a midnight decorating party. It’s the first of numerous annual traditions they pull out around this time of the year, and even if it means that the two struggle to stay awake the next day - it’s one of their favourites.

Brooke always insists on baking his family’s Christmas cookies every weekend up until the big day, they’re spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon, and taste like a warm log fire on a cold day. They make the man long for the cool weather of Toronto again, but it’s okay - he’d spend Christmas anywhere his family is.

They celebrate Christmas Eve for Vanessa, a traditional Nochebuena dinner being cooked every year without fail. He vowed to raise his kids the way he was raised, and he will not stop for anyone, as he convinces Brooke to finally help him with the tembleque (a kind of custard made with coconut, cornstarch, vanilla, and cinnamon). They make a mess trying to make it together, so big that the shorter man banishes him to the living room with a coffee and ‘you and your ass in here distracting me’, to try and finish in time for people coming over. Christmas Eve is a drag family affair - Christmas Day is for the kids.

When it’s A’keria and Silky and Nina and Monét and Kameron and Asia, and everyone else sat around their table, none of them have to be home to feel at home. Sometimes family is bigger than just relatives.

On Christmas morning the air is thick with excitement, as the twins run in and jump on their parents with a vigour not typically found in humans at six am. Brooke rubs his eyes groggily, used to waking up like this from years of ballet, but also way too comfortable with his koala of a fiancé wrapped around him, keeping his body temperature high.

Vanessa makes them all cinnamon hot chocolate, and then paces their present opening, because ‘I can’t entertain y’all at seven am, take it slow’. The noise Allie makes when she unwraps new sneakers is akin to a small demon, whereas Noah just smiles like a maniac, as he hugs his pointe shoes close - a promise from Brooke that he can learn to dance like that, like his Dad. They spend the rest of the morning dancing to the Christmas songs that blast through the house, and they don’t need the cookies to feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Vanessa hosts his last Friday show before the wedding - pulls out some classic numbers like ‘No More Drama’, and even calls back to her ‘Call Me Mother’ remix. It gets to one in the morning when she decides to pull a guest on stage - one she’s sure the crowd will love.

“We getting hitched soon, so I want to call my lovely man up to the stage! Ladies and gentlefolks, give it up for my twinkle toes.”

Brooke looks surprised - they discussed it beforehand, but he still manages to look shocked. They’ve got a night away from the kids, so he’s been drinking Tequila since 10, and he’s got warm hands and an easy smile as Vanessa pulls him up the stairs and sits him on one of two back to back chairs.

“Now, if y’all come here often, you might know,” she tongue pops, “that I am partial to a lap dance - but this is not a normal night! BIG SILK!” And Silky comes through the curtain behind, covered in silver fringe and with a shit eating grin that makes Brooke keel over laughing. “The shoes?” Vanessa asks dramatically, like she is a magician or something in that vein, and the other queen produces a pair of Vanessa’s heels and Brooke’s trainers - to which they both look vaguely shocked, neither knowing quite how she got a hold of them. Silky retreats back behind the curtain and A'keria walks out - the same glittery fringe, but a much less excited smile.

“The game is quite simple.” She drawls, looking bored, but with the sparkle in her eye that tells she is nothing of the sort. “I say something, you hold up the shoe of the person who it most applies to.” The audience makes ‘ooh’ noises and both participants crack a smile - unsure of what they will be asked.

“One: who is better with kids?”

They both pause for a second, unsure of how best to proceed, before Brooke tentatively holds up the heel and Vanessa throws up the trainer. The Latino turns around a little (or at least tries to), before being batted by Brooke and forced to sit back the right way.

“Interesting. Two: who causes the most arguments?”

They both immediately show the heel, which causes an uproar of laughter. “What?! I’m messy,” Vanessa cries out and Brooke only nods, something that winds the audience up a little more, although Vanessa can’t work out why. As they put the shoes down, Brooke leans his head back and pecks his partner on the cheek, causing A’keria to smile a little bit.

“Three: who takes up the most space?”

It’s unanimously Vanessa.

“Four: who’s the most expensive?”

Vanessa again.

“Five: who is the tidiest?”

Brooke shouts ‘the kids’ and A’keria gives up.

When the night ends, both parties are drunk and tired, but find their way into each other’s arms backstage. Neither minds the sweat, Vanessa’s makeup, or the way Silky and A’keria talk behind them - it feels familiar. It’s a little like coming home.

Brooke paces anxiously watched by Nina, who is tapping her foot in a way that is just right for Brooke to want to snap it off. Maybe not snap, but certainly stomp on it in some killer drag heels. He feels like he’s got a hole in the side of his head from the way the other man is staring, and it’s the last thing he needs.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I’m your best man,” Nina huffs indignantly, “It is my job to stop you from running away.”

Brooke sighs and sinks into one of the old armchairs in the room, trying his very hardest not to crease any part of the suit Vanessa so kindly picked out. He’d been sceptical at first, a little shy about the prospect of looking like James Bond, but now that he’s seen himself in a full-length mirror, about to do it, he appreciates it. There’s something about the black suit with the white shirt and black bow tie that does something. He can’t pinpoint what exactly, but he realises why his fiancé had been ready to rip his clothes back off when he’d tried it on. They had refrained (mostly).

“How’s José?” he asked, voice shaking with nerves and a little champagne.

“Monét says he won’t let Allie go, but apart from that he’s wonderful.” Brooke lets out a heavy sigh of relief, fear of a runaway groom assuaged for a little. “A’keria isn’t letting him drink any more.” She adds with a chuckle, fingers flying as she types out a response. Vanessa has Allie and Noah in his room as he gets ready, fretted over by Monét (with Judah) and the Dreamgirls. Brooke has, well, he has Nina, and even that feels like too much at times - her presence both soothing and smothering as she tries to mother him even after twenty years of friendship. He relegated Kameron and Detox to a separate room after five minutes. “How are you feeling?”

“Fucking terrified.”

“Scared shitless,” he replies with a smile. “I mean- nevermind, I cuss ‘nough round the house.” A’keria raises an eyebrow but goes back to fussing over Judah, the baby dressed in a mini three-piece suit that’s had Monét almost crying all day. She keeps muttering about how ‘he’s growing up so fast’, and Vanessa has already threatened to give the kid to Nina for the rest of the preparations. They’ve got ten minutes. They’re not ready.

Despite being a little too old for their roles, Allie and Noah are excited for their jobs of flower girl and page boy respectively. Allie is the only girl in the wedding party, and Vanessa bought her a blush tulle gown to go with a small pair of heels. Noah is in a mini version of Brooke’s tux, and Silky has been awwing over it since he put it on. He’s sure they look like a perfect little family (and he feels like they are one too).

Michelle knocks on the door, lets them know to start lining up, as she moves over to Vanessa and straightens his tie.

“You look great, baby. I’m so proud,” she whispers, running a finger under his chin to lift it as she speaks. She’s always felt like his second mother, and to know that she’s officiating makes him a little more confident. “Chin up,” she reminds before leaving again.

He paces over to the twins, crouching in front of them. “I love you guys, you know that right? You’re the best thing that ever happened to my sorry little as- butt, and I just want you to know that this might be making Brock your Dad, but I will always be your Papa.”

When Allie kisses his cheek he has to gulp back a sob, overwhelmed tears threatening to ruin the beat he’s done. He chokes back the cries, burying his head in Noah’s curls for a second, before standing back up straight and brushing off his suit. “Ready?”

“Ready?” asks Nina, stood at the door with a smile. She opens it and they step out into the corridor, the cold of the old mansion creeping through. They chose January and the crisp air reminds Brooke of his home in Toronto, but at the same time, the chill biting at his ankles could have been forgone for a warmer breeze and he wouldn’t have complained.

His mama walks over to them, flanked by Kameron and Detox, who have each linked an arm - he almost breaks down just from seeing her.

“Mommy,” he smiles wetly, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, dear,” she replies with a calm smile and a warm hand on his cheek. The others leave to join the rest of the group, it having been decided that Brooke and his mom would go in first, then the wedding party, and then Vanessa could make whatever grand entrance he came up with. He takes a deep breath, centres himself and links his mom’s arm with his.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Thank you, mom.”

The music starts and he walks in.

As soon as Brooke enters, the rest of the party gather around the corner and queue up together. Allie and Noah go first, Allie throwing as many flowers (intermixed with glitter) as she can, specifically over the guests she knows well. Willam gets a handful of glitter in her hair, that she brushes onto Courtney Act, the queen looking disgruntled but unable to stop herself from cooing. Courtney Conquers, the designated child holder, beckons the two of them over to her in the front row. She’s already crying, has been since she arrived, but her smile eclipses the rest of the room. Detox and Kameron walk in next, strutting in their suits like their life depended on it (but also impressively in time with the slow beat of the music). A’keria and Silky follow, surprisingly calm. Nina hands Judah over to Jamie at the door, the woman sneaking him into the soundproof filming booth they’ve got at the back - an ingenious idea that was definitely Vanessa’s (it was Brooke’s, but the shorter man refuses to admit it). Just as they get ready to go through the door, Monét looks Nina in the eyes and without saying a word switches out her pocket square for a sponge. Her boyfriend looks like she’s about to die laughing as Michelle glares at them down the aisle, and they have to move quicker than they should, because now they are late. Nina is unimpressed, Monét is silently cackling.

The music changes to something slow and possibly Spanish-sounding, and everyone rises to their feet. Brooke turns and his jaw drops. His eyes begin to water frantically, and, without looking at him, Michelle hands him a tissue. He feels like he has been blinded by an angel, the soft lighting of the venue doing wonders to Vanessa who is glowing, actually glowing. Somehow, he feels underdressed and overdressed all at once, the other man taking up every sense and emotion he has, until all he feels and sees and smells and hears is José . He is hopelessly in love. “Fuck.”

The world has slowed to a stand still as they lock eyes, the only thing mattering to Vanessa are the pooling cerulean irises staring into his own brown ones. The warmth they emanate bathing him in joy - the look in Brooke’s eyes feels like coming home.

“I missed you,” he whispers, clasping Vanessa’s hands in his and hoping his soon-to-be husband cannot feel the way his palms have become clammy from nerves.

“I know,” the other man smirks as Michelle (ever the mother) shushes them both before speaking to the room. Whatever she announces goes unheard by the two men, as they get lost once more amid the hustle and bustle of the wedding. Everything else falls away, until they are two naive men, eight(ish) years earlier in a bright pink workroom, hands sweaty and faces a little scared - falling in love.

“José, my love, I vow to always make you pancakes in the morning and a cup of peppermint tea at night. I vow to let you use my drag racks, even when you insist you don’t need them, and not to care when you steal my eyelashes, or my lipstick, or my glitter. I vow to help you raise Allie and Noah, and give them the life they deserve, and to never complain when you curl around me in bed. Most importantly, I have loved you since I can’t remember when, and I promise to love you until I can’t forget how, I promise.”

“Brock. Um - Fuck. Sorry, fudge. I swear I was prepared, but now it all looks kinda like rubbish, and I dunno if I can read it through these fucking tears. Um, bottom line, I love you. I always have and always will love you - as a best friend, as a father to our kids, and as a husband. I believe we are soulmates and I am ind- indept - indeptiated? Nevermind. I love you, always.”

“I do.”

“Uhuh, yup, I do too.”

“You may now kiss your husband! BUT KEEP IT PG.”

Nina taps at her glass to silence the room, glances over at the newlyweds to make sure that they’re looking at her instead of into each other’s eyes (it’s sweet, but she prepared for this).

It’s a speech that makes everyone cry (especially Courtney, but she’s been crying the entire time), involving way too many Disney references and at least one mention of how she had no idea that Vanessa’s name was actually José. Brooke mouths a 'thank you’ as she sits back down, a sentiment that, coming from Brooke, means more than the world.

A’keria’s is as enjoyable as it is embarrassing, has everyone crying from laughter before crying from joy at the very end. The theme of the night seems to be ‘These people are too good for this world’ , and it’s not something anyone chooses to argue with - too wrapped up with how fucking adorable they are as they dance, holding eachother close, like to let go would mean they would lose each other.

It ends with Brooke and Vanessa’s mom dancing to “Hotel California”, both a little drunk on love and wine, as Allie dances with Kameron, and Noah with Monét. Asia coos over Judah as he giggles (having slept through most of the evening so far), and Trixie and Katya manage to slow dance out of rhythm in the corner - both sober, both falling into each other.

Vanessa watches it all with a smile and a glass of flat champagne.

“How did I get so lucky?” He muses out loud to himself.

“Life is good,” replies Brooke’s mama with a smile. “Welcome to the family, son.”

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