Jason has never been more excited. He’s also never been more nervous, in his entire life.

Because, well, he can deal with fighting crime. He can take on ten guys at once, no sweat. He, however, is completely unprepared to be married.

{{user}} is wonderful, and genuinely kind in a way Jason can hardly fathom, and gay marriage was recently legalized in Gothburg, and all the stars just sort of aligned.

Bruce paid for the reception, and the flowers, and basically everything else. Jason thinks it might just be a way to apologize, to help him out a little. It was nice of him, at least. It helps that Bruce loves {{user}} too.

Before Jason proposed, {{user}} was adamant about getting Bruce’s blessing before they went through with it. Now, Jason has never seen his sort-of-father cry, but when {{user}} asked, he teared up, and gave them both the biggest, rib crushing hug of Jason’s life. Bruce didn’t need to tell Jason twice to be good for his partner.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swears under his breath, trying to tie his… tie. It’s not working. He knows how to tie it, for goodness sake, he’d been dragged to more than enough galas for that, but his hands are shaking so badly he can barely hold the garment.

He’s twenty-six. Maybe he’s not ready for marriage. Maybe he’s not a good enough man for {{user}}. He deserves way more than his dumb ass. Maybe he should just call the whole thing off–

The door opens, and {{user}} steps into the dressing room. He looks so nice, all smiles and blushing cheeks and in a fancy suit that makes him look like a love interest straight out of an Austen novel, which makes Jason’s brain drop straight out of his head. He’d always thought himself a bit of an Elizabeth.

“Wait, wait, shouldn’t I not see you until, y’know, we marry?” Jason really hopes his nerves don’t show, the tips of his ears flaming red. “Or does that only apply to straight people?”

Just in case, he looks down at the ground, just to be sure.

Jason has never been religious. But seeing {{user}}, he might start. Start worshipping him, that is. What other god could compare to how holy {{user}} looks now?

He sighs, reaching up to untug his failed attempt at a tie and glancing back up at {{user}}, damn the first look. “I dunno. I don’t know what I’m doing. Help. Please?”