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xp_logsTerry and Kyle pick up their official 'save the date' cards and invitations. (Slightly backdated)
Real was a shared bank account and tapping his debit card on the payment logo and real was paper made of cotton fibers. It felt smooth even when Kyle let his fingers drag over it, and he couldn't help the absolutely delighted grin that spread across his face.
Real was smooth edges, and embossing and envelopes that had weight to them, and sage green, matte black, ancient amber, colors with names to them, and his name and Terry's name on that paper. Real was picking up the box of invitations and tucking it under his arm like it was fragile and precious. It was precious. Maybe not fragile.
He and Terry got all the way through making sure the invitations and RSVP cards looked right, thanking the printer, and paying and out to the car before Kyle set the box on the floor of the back seat and then got in and put his head on the dashboard and let out a little breathy raspy laugh. "Oh my God that's a box of wedding invitations in my car."
"That's a box of our wedding invitations in your car," Terry corrected, unable to help the grin on her face. "Those are our wedding invitations," she emphasized, leaning over the gear shift and the center console so she could tug Kyle's head off the dashboard and plant a kiss on his smiling lips. "With a date on them an' everythin'," she continued, not bothering to break the kiss.
Kyle could only get out a sort of dopey "yeaaaah." because he was very busy being kissed, and kissing back. Even once they were done he rested his forehead against Terry's, a little goofy. "Hey, hey, Ter? We're gonna get married. Like, full out no stops with a cake and rings."
"Yes, we are -- oh, did y'want me t'add your name?" Terry asked, eye popping open to look into Kyle's even as she stayed closed and nuzzled their noses together. "Theresa Maeve Cassidy-Rourke Gibney -- no hyphen between Rourke and Gibney... quite the jumble o'middle names I'd give m'self... but I like it. Theresa Gibney, hm?"
"What, so you like shove the Cassidy-Rourke into the middle and then put mine at the end?" Kyle sat up a little, sort of awed. "I mean it's your name, right? Like." He had this burst of nervous energy and drummed on the steering wheel for a few seconds. "I mean Dad's on my birth certificate even though I'm not his bio kid, so I've always been a Gibney, but I don't have a lot of family history? Yours has like, family stuff? You're not gonna lose your weird land thing in Ireland if you pick up a new last name, right?"
Moving her hands so she could hold Kyle's face between them, Terry grinned again even as she smooshed his cheeks together. "No, I'll not lose the land or the Keep," she said, amused. "That'd be like saying y'can't vote because you've changed your name. Besides, I'm the last Cassidy, unless my uncle managed t'have a child after grandda took me back from him and before he passed. It'll be goin' t'whomever I will it to, since we've decided what we did about children." She kissed him again, a little softer this time. "Besides, I like the sound o'Terry Gibney. An' I like that people'll know we're a matched set."
"That's really sweet and I don't know what to say about it." It took Kyle a while to even figure that out. "Oh, do you have that funky Catholic extra middle name thing too? How many names do we pile onto you before you fall over?" He rested his forehead against Terry's. "You're so little. I'd have to carry you around so you can carry all those names around."
"I'm petite, you ridiculous redwood of a man," Terry said, laughing even as she kissed him softly again. "Magdelana's m'Christening name, but it's not legal, so I've never bothered with it overmuch. Besides, stickin' it in the middle made too many M names clump together an' I like m'mam's name more than m'Christening one."
"Tiny. Bite sized. Itty bitty. Wee." Kyle offered, grinning. "Travel sized so I don't have to check you with the TSA. Pocket fiancee." He let his head fall back onto the headset of his seat. "Ooh, pocket sized wife. Probably shouldn't put that in the vows, huh?"
Terry couldn't help the laughter that spilled out of her. "I like that, actually -- pocket-sized wife. But you're right, probably best not t'canonize that."
"Plus I need to actually like, talk and not just crack the fuck up. Gonna be pretty nervous anyway. Saying everything out there in front of everyone is, like." Kyle's hands drummed on the steering wheel. "You know, the nightmare fear my voice is gonna crack like when I was thirteen."
"You're goin' t'be talkin' in front of all the people we know an' love best," Terry said, reaching over to put her hand on Kyle's thigh. She gave it a squeeze, smiling at him. "You're going t'be amazin'. The whole thing's goin' t'be amazin'. An' at the end of it, we'll be married."
"I'm gonna be a guy getting married, and you're gonna be amazing in a wedding dress and I'm just saying, as an expert in looking at you with eyes, pretty sure nobody's gonna be looking at me." Kyle said. "And then we get a party, and then I get to figure out how to take a dress with like five billion buttons off you. I mean, unless it doesn't have five billion buttons, which will make my life so much easier."
"What, y'don't want t'just lift m'skirt up for our first time as a married couple?" Terry asked, mischief in her eyes. "That's apparently how it was done a century or two ago. Then off with the dress and we begin the honeymoon phase."
"Wait, like right there at the ceremony? I mean I like a lot of stuff but not that." Kyle said, laughing and shaking his head. "People in the eighteen hundreds were freaky. I mean, like, how many times have I made you watch Hamilton? So many founding fathers and old dead guys getting freaky."
"No, love," Terry said, also laughing. "At whatever point it was y'thought you'd be havin' t'deal with my buttons." She shifted her hand so she could rest it atop Kyle's as he looked at the road and then pulled away from the curb and into traffic. "They can always be sewn back on, though -- the buttons." She quirked an eyebrow at him, then couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face.
Real was a shared bank account and tapping his debit card on the payment logo and real was paper made of cotton fibers. It felt smooth even when Kyle let his fingers drag over it, and he couldn't help the absolutely delighted grin that spread across his face.
Real was smooth edges, and embossing and envelopes that had weight to them, and sage green, matte black, ancient amber, colors with names to them, and his name and Terry's name on that paper. Real was picking up the box of invitations and tucking it under his arm like it was fragile and precious. It was precious. Maybe not fragile.
He and Terry got all the way through making sure the invitations and RSVP cards looked right, thanking the printer, and paying and out to the car before Kyle set the box on the floor of the back seat and then got in and put his head on the dashboard and let out a little breathy raspy laugh. "Oh my God that's a box of wedding invitations in my car."
"That's a box of our wedding invitations in your car," Terry corrected, unable to help the grin on her face. "Those are our wedding invitations," she emphasized, leaning over the gear shift and the center console so she could tug Kyle's head off the dashboard and plant a kiss on his smiling lips. "With a date on them an' everythin'," she continued, not bothering to break the kiss.
Kyle could only get out a sort of dopey "yeaaaah." because he was very busy being kissed, and kissing back. Even once they were done he rested his forehead against Terry's, a little goofy. "Hey, hey, Ter? We're gonna get married. Like, full out no stops with a cake and rings."
"Yes, we are -- oh, did y'want me t'add your name?" Terry asked, eye popping open to look into Kyle's even as she stayed closed and nuzzled their noses together. "Theresa Maeve Cassidy-Rourke Gibney -- no hyphen between Rourke and Gibney... quite the jumble o'middle names I'd give m'self... but I like it. Theresa Gibney, hm?"
"What, so you like shove the Cassidy-Rourke into the middle and then put mine at the end?" Kyle sat up a little, sort of awed. "I mean it's your name, right? Like." He had this burst of nervous energy and drummed on the steering wheel for a few seconds. "I mean Dad's on my birth certificate even though I'm not his bio kid, so I've always been a Gibney, but I don't have a lot of family history? Yours has like, family stuff? You're not gonna lose your weird land thing in Ireland if you pick up a new last name, right?"
Moving her hands so she could hold Kyle's face between them, Terry grinned again even as she smooshed his cheeks together. "No, I'll not lose the land or the Keep," she said, amused. "That'd be like saying y'can't vote because you've changed your name. Besides, I'm the last Cassidy, unless my uncle managed t'have a child after grandda took me back from him and before he passed. It'll be goin' t'whomever I will it to, since we've decided what we did about children." She kissed him again, a little softer this time. "Besides, I like the sound o'Terry Gibney. An' I like that people'll know we're a matched set."
"That's really sweet and I don't know what to say about it." It took Kyle a while to even figure that out. "Oh, do you have that funky Catholic extra middle name thing too? How many names do we pile onto you before you fall over?" He rested his forehead against Terry's. "You're so little. I'd have to carry you around so you can carry all those names around."
"I'm petite, you ridiculous redwood of a man," Terry said, laughing even as she kissed him softly again. "Magdelana's m'Christening name, but it's not legal, so I've never bothered with it overmuch. Besides, stickin' it in the middle made too many M names clump together an' I like m'mam's name more than m'Christening one."
"Tiny. Bite sized. Itty bitty. Wee." Kyle offered, grinning. "Travel sized so I don't have to check you with the TSA. Pocket fiancee." He let his head fall back onto the headset of his seat. "Ooh, pocket sized wife. Probably shouldn't put that in the vows, huh?"
Terry couldn't help the laughter that spilled out of her. "I like that, actually -- pocket-sized wife. But you're right, probably best not t'canonize that."
"Plus I need to actually like, talk and not just crack the fuck up. Gonna be pretty nervous anyway. Saying everything out there in front of everyone is, like." Kyle's hands drummed on the steering wheel. "You know, the nightmare fear my voice is gonna crack like when I was thirteen."
"You're goin' t'be talkin' in front of all the people we know an' love best," Terry said, reaching over to put her hand on Kyle's thigh. She gave it a squeeze, smiling at him. "You're going t'be amazin'. The whole thing's goin' t'be amazin'. An' at the end of it, we'll be married."
"I'm gonna be a guy getting married, and you're gonna be amazing in a wedding dress and I'm just saying, as an expert in looking at you with eyes, pretty sure nobody's gonna be looking at me." Kyle said. "And then we get a party, and then I get to figure out how to take a dress with like five billion buttons off you. I mean, unless it doesn't have five billion buttons, which will make my life so much easier."
"What, y'don't want t'just lift m'skirt up for our first time as a married couple?" Terry asked, mischief in her eyes. "That's apparently how it was done a century or two ago. Then off with the dress and we begin the honeymoon phase."
"Wait, like right there at the ceremony? I mean I like a lot of stuff but not that." Kyle said, laughing and shaking his head. "People in the eighteen hundreds were freaky. I mean, like, how many times have I made you watch Hamilton? So many founding fathers and old dead guys getting freaky."
"No, love," Terry said, also laughing. "At whatever point it was y'thought you'd be havin' t'deal with my buttons." She shifted her hand so she could rest it atop Kyle's as he looked at the road and then pulled away from the curb and into traffic. "They can always be sewn back on, though -- the buttons." She quirked an eyebrow at him, then couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face.
