Tronnor One-Shots

Day One

Apple blossoms were everywhere. Lightly pink petals in the grass, in baskets on branches, hung in bouquets on the chairs lining the aisle. There was already so much of it in the yard, but the sweet, whitish, pinkish color accented the symbolic path with even more promise. Connor felt it, even from his standing inside, where he had just finished clipping a small, white rose to his lapel. He felt it strongly.

He peeked through the floral curtains, his heart quickening at the sight of the backyard he grew up playing in; people sat primly in their chairs and the awaiting alter seemed to smile, like Dustin preparing his officiant's speech behind it. Candles were scattered in saucers around the chairs, and fairy lights were strung up in the trees, the yellow flicker and blue shine beginning to ease in as the evening came.

A simple place, with only their loved ones, was what it was. It was what they wanted. No fuss, just a lot of love. Connor smiled softly, because there was one demand that Troye had had: he wanted to exchange vows below the sky before nighttime, when it had a navy horizon and a purple universe.

Dreamily, that's exactly the color it was becoming as Connor opened the curtains a little further, hearing Sage strumming the first chords of the wedding song she'd written for them. Black suits and little blue dresses emerged from the house and onto the grass; the wedding party, two-by-two, each of them holding lightly burning candles. It was starting, and Connor felt his parents take his arms.

They pulled him into line. "Are you ready, sweetie?" His mother asked. Connor's heart surprised him, palpitating more and more as couple after couple left the house, his part coming so much closer.

He wasn't quite sure how to answer his mother's question, because all of a sudden his lungs were in his throat. He flushed over his nerves: he'd never thought in a million years that he'd be so nervous about this.

This was marriage, which he'd never thought anything bad of but, in his edgy state, he realized what it really was. He and Troye, they were creating a constant, which he'd never really been good at maintaining. What if he fucked this all up? His stomach churned; he knew he'd never forgive himself if he broke a heart as loving as Troye's.

"He's just nervous, Cheryl. It's normal." Peter said, replying to his wife's worried face. "Remember how shaky my hands were when we got married?"

Cheryl laughed, but Connor didn't. They stood at the open screen door, waiting for the lineup to reach them, and Connor's gut felt funny. This series of actions, with this special man; it was what he wanted so terribly bad, but was marriage too major for him to sustain? Were their expectations too high? Were they too young? Would a commitment so tight cause this to end in a ball of flame? He wanted to run, but he didn't, because he wanted to get married. He really did. He was just a little scared.

Pulling him from his worrying, from behind him, there was a light tap on his shoulder. He looked back unassumingly, and the most familiar pair of lips in the world bumped into his. Connor's heart stopped, like it had during his first experience with this taste, and he nearly fell into his parents. The spark their lips was so inexplicable. Such a treasured feeling.

When he opened his eyes, his favorite ocean-blue galaxies explored his face, and crinkled at the corners as the mouth he adored curved into a smile. "Pre-ceremony kiss." Troye explained cutely, looking dapper as fuck in his Ralph Saint Laurent suit. He touched Connor's face, "You look amazing."

"As do you." Connor sighed, all his stress and doubt drifting into irrelevance. Troye was all he needed. It was that simple.

Troye returned to his parents' arms, and Connor felt so, so good again. Cheryl and Peter grinned, not only because of the sweet moment, but because they noticed the sudden steadiness of their son's composure.