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It's almost noon, so the light pouring in the windows is almost more of a glow -- the sun is close to directly overhead, after all. The small stone chapel off the north wing of Southdown Abbey has wooden pews with faded blue cushions; the altar is close to bare. Somebody -- maybe Constance Frye, maybe Inara, maybe even Zoe (but surely not Crowley) -- found summer's end wildflowers, and made a small arrangement for the altar. A simple one. Matching bunches are attached to either side of the altar rail -- and to the empty chair just behind Prior Fell.

If the chapel has an official name, Simon doesn't know it. What he does know: he's standing in front of a (very small) crowd of people with nothing in particular to do other than stand there with River and Wash -- and Prior Fell -- and try not to look nervous.

He's almost sure he's failing.

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There had been a time when things would have been carried out differently-- a cathedral or great hall on Osiris, perhaps, with invitations sent to all of the Medical Elect, among others. Business and joyous gala occasion together, of course. All that's proper.

It doesn't matter. In some ways, perhaps this is even better.

As he watches his son standing before the gathering of friends and family -- family, all of their family together again here, an unlooked-for grace -- Gabriel is smiling, and there is nothing at all that's business-cordial about his proud and fond gaze.

Her son is getting married.

Her son is getting married.

The ceremony's not what she might have pictured, and Wash's tie clashes with the flowers as she wouldn't have guessed anything could, and she hardly knows Kaylee really, and half the crowd cordially hates her and Gabriel (when they're bothering to be cordial about it).

And it doesn't matter.

Because Simon is standing by the altar in a suit, and River behind him is standing straight and solemn and clutching a tiny bouquet of wildflowers, and Regan's hand is pressed to her mouth. Because she is not going to cry this early in the ceremony.

A proud smile that won't go away, however, is not out of the question.

River's wearing her nicest dress, with her hair combed as tidily as it's ever been -- Inara brushed it out, with both Simon and Kaylee rather preoccupied this morning -- and she's not fidgeting.

Because this is Simon's wedding, Simon and Kaylee's wedding, and she wants to do everything absolutely right.

She is, however, beaming.

"Don't make faces," she tells Simon under her breath. "Doors are opening."

"And breathing helps," Wash adds out of the corner of his mouth. Both hands are clasped on the top of his cane, one over the other. "I know it's a wild and experimental concept, but you might wanna give it a try right about now. Trust me."

It's said in a gently sympathetic way. Simon's reached Pre-Wedding Nerves Face #52 by this point, which, in at least one case he knows of, has immediately preceded the overwhelming urge to bolt for the door in a screaming hysterical fit.

Breathe. That's not hard, is it? Inhale, exhale, it's an involuntary reflex for god's sake it shouldn't take this much conscious control --

"You'll catch me if I pass out?"

"Of course. I'll even prop you up and move your jaw around with one hand at the 'I do's."

He winks.

"Fàngxīn. You're doing fine."

Someone really ought to make a note to talk to Prior Fell about getting the chapel doors oiled more regularly. The again, maybe the loud creak isn't the only reason everybody turns to look as they swing open.

The sunlight streams in across the rough stone floor, adding to the illumination from the beautiful stained-glass windows. A dark silhouette, and others visible behind; the CEO of Bentley Aeronautics steps through, grinning, and holds the door open to make way for the bride.

No bride just yet, as the next figure to come into focus is Mal, beaming rather ridiculously and hastily shoving the last bit of his handkerchief in his sleeve without too much attention being drawn to it.

The other of the double doors is now held open for Kaylee, Mal bouncing far more than is probably appropriate.

There's a very tall shadow, and a smaller one.

They step forward at the same time. The tall one -- Teddy -- is resplendent and uncomfortable-looking in a suit and shiny shoes.

The smaller one is...just kind of resplendent.

Ivory lace, and all.

And the smile. Yeah.

She and her mother left the dress just a little bit too long so it could drag just a little in the back; Mal and Crowley will have to be careful not to step on it as they follow the two of them down the --

-- and as Kaylee only has eyes for Simon now, we'll just stop with the narration.

Oh.

Oh.

And as suddenly as that, the fear is gone.

Aziraphael makes his way up to stand before the altar, looking at home there, looking every inch the respectable Prior and every inch propriety encapsulated - but for the smile that can't help but tug at the corners of his mouth. He's been waiting a good long while for this day, and the weather and the setting are just as he had hoped; not that it would have mattered. Not, he suspects, that either of them would really have noticed, judging by the smiles on their faces.

He clears his throat softly, and the chapel falls silent, and the look of very slight panic on Simon's face makes a full-fledged smile of his expression, and the gentle glint of hairpins in amongst Kaylee's hairstyle tips it into a soft chuckle, quickly suppressed.

"We are gathered," he manages eventually, voice laced with good humour, "in this place, at this time, to witness and lend our support to the joining of this man and this woman in matrimony. It is traditional, of course, to ask for any with reason this should not take place to step forward, but should there be any dissenters or nay-sayers I haven't the inclination to hear them. It is my duty, yes, but more so, a pleasure, to oversee the cementing of a pairing so well matched."

He smiles at both of them, then looks up at the gathering of family and friends once more.

"Who gives this woman to be married?"

"Her mother and me."

Teddy Frye's voice is a little gruff. He's been schooled in this part.

He squeezes Kaylee's hand as he holds his other hand out to Simon.

Simon's been told what to do as well; he puts his hand in Teddy's.

And glances up at Kaylee.

Well. A man knows when he's not wanted.

Or maybe not needed is better.

Or --

-- maybe just when discretion is the better part of valor.

He kisses Kaylee's cheek, brings their hands together, and retires to sit next to Constance on the front pew, putting his arm around her.

There's his part, over and done with.

He ought to be a little more relieved instead of...

...oh, hell. Forget it. There are other things to pay attention to.

"Kaywinnit Lee Frye; will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live? If so, answer, 'I will.'"

"I will."

Funny how it's a lot easier to say that -- even looking at Simon, never looking at Aziraphael -- than it was to say yes the first time.

Aziraphael turns to Simon and gives him a small bolstering smile.

""Simon Tam; will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live? If so, answer, 'I will.'"

He's looking at her, and his voice is steady.

"I will."

Oh, ai ren. With all my heart.

Aziraphael nods solemnly, as each of them answers in the affirmative, then allows a moment of silence before he raises his voice again.

"The formalities required in this sort of thing are dispensed with; now I invite the bride and groom to make their promises in their own way."

He turns to Mal and Wash, the best men, sparing a quick smile for Crowley.

"You have the rings?"

Mal knows a cue when he hears one.

Pulling one side of his coat open to reach into an inside pocket, Mal pulls out the ring he is holding for Kaylee to give to Simon, letting it rest on his palm as he lets her pick it up.

He's not crying yet, but his handkerchief is visible at the very front of his coat sleeve.

For Simon's sake -- actually, for his own as well -- Wash does not pretend that he lost the ring. They dove into a moving van to get this piece of jewelry back to the abbey, for crying out loud.

So he simply pulls it from his breast pocket and holds it out to Simon with a smile.

It's just the tiniest bit knowing.

They have the rings. There's a small and silent moment of thanks.

"These rings, then, are a tangible sign of the vows by which Kaylee and Simon have bound themselves together and promised themselves to each other."

Kaylee's had Simon's for a while. Got it back when she was doing some New Year's shopping, and saw an engraver's, and -- well.

It's simple -- a flat gold band, maybe an eighth of an inch wide.

And on the inside:

the star to my wandering bark

(She'd had their copy of the sonnets with her that day.)

And as Kaylee takes the ring from Mal, and slides it on Simon's finger...she wonders when he'll notice. And then decides it doesn't matter.

There'll be time.

Simon has not had Kaylee's ring for very long at all. Someday, maybe, he'll tell her the story of the day he bought it.

It's a slender band of white gold set with three stones: a diamond, flanked by slightly smaller emeralds.

He has a moment's internal panic about whether it's the right size, which subsides as he slides it onto her finger; the fit's all but perfect.

Crowley's... been doing alright, really, all things considered. If, as the ceremony progresses, he's a bit paler than usual, or if there's a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, nobody seems to have noticed. The headache's worse than usual, but after this long at the abbey, Crowley Knows From Headaches. He can deal with it.

And he was, he thinks with a faint trace of smugness, smart enough not to eat breakfast, this morning.

He watches, grinning broadly, as Kaylee and Simon exchange rings, eyes only for each other. That light-up-the-'verse, power-your-boat smile is brighter than all the sunlight through all the glorious windows.

Charitably, he pretends not to hear the slightest sniffle from beside him. All in all, it - ...he can taste copper.

Why can he taste copper?

Oh.

Ducking his head quickly and letting his hair fall forward, Crowley pretends to hide a sniffle of his own. Thankfully, everyone's attention still seems to be on the bride and groom; nobody seems to spare Crowley a glance as he fishes for his handkerchief, silently cursing xī niú abbeys and their qiángbào hóuzi de enclosed chapels and the gŏushĭ bùrú, gāoyáng zhōng de gūyáng nosebleeds they result in.

A huge smile breaks across Aziraphael's face as Simon slides his ring onto Kaylee's finger, and he looks up to share it with those gathered as witnesses.

"Marvellous. It is my very great pleasure to announce that you are henceforth man and wife, and I beg that you celebrate that fact with at least a little propriety. For now, at least."

-- and there it is, the words hanging in the air, man and wife --

They're married.

Simon leans forward, takes Kaylee's face in his hands, and kisses her. Quite thoroughly.

Pigtails. First time he ever saw Kaylee, she was wearing pigtails.

The simple memory stays with Mal after the end of the ceremony, and seems to be important enough for him that his mind doesn't dwell on too much else, spinning his own ring around his finger and leaving the chapel hand in hand with Inara.

It isn't bad form for the best man to start clapping, is it?

Oh, who the hell cares.

Wash laughs, and joins in the applause that fills the small chapel, his smile as big and proud as any parent or sibling of those at the altar.

Regan isn't crying. Of course not. She's beaming.

Just... dabbing at her eyes, too.

Her hand finds Gabriel's, and squeezes.

The only one of the Endless to attend as many weddings as Desire, is Dream.

He's been there. He might even have been seen.

Zoe's eyes might be a tiny bit overbright.

There's no question, however, about the brightness of her smile as she claps.

Inara smile is enormous as a few tears wind down her cheeks and she applauds with the rest. This is so right.

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Dearly beloved.

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Marriage: Two souls and one thought...

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...two hearts and one pulse.

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In which there are promises.

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The exchange of rings

Re: The exchange of rings

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