Only Yours

34

William's P.O.V

'Your hair is impossible, Will.' Saphira tugs a comb through my knotted hair and I jerk forwards before turning round and glaring at her. She holds her hands up in surrender. 'Sorry, sorry, but you really need to tidy it up. Papa will freak at you. Do you ever do your hair at uni?'

'Occasionally Jack does it for me.' I mumble, checking my reflection. I'm wearing a ridiculous little bowtie. I hate bowties almost as much as real ties. And I have these silver cufflinks in my cuffs, so I match with Jonty. My cuffs have buttons.

'Jack? Why would your roommate do your hair- oh my God, are you like...dating?' Saphira gushes, jumping up and down and smiling at me. I scowl and turn away. 'Of course not. I would not engage in a relationship with someone. That's bloody ridiculous.' Then, in an effort to change the subject, 'Where's Jonty?'

Saphira shrugs and skips out of the room. 'I'm going to go and find Mrs Hudson, Will. Look after Jacob!' I glance at the baby, who we put in one of those baby jail things in the corner of the room, and look away, glancing sullenly at the clock.

It is half past nine. I have barely recovered from my hangover and my hair is still wet from the shower I had before we all left the motel. Honestly, I suspected I might have to call off the wedding. It looked terrible; both of my father's had cheated on each other with their brother-in-laws. But apparently, they didn't actually, and we separated quite happily after Papa shouted at Uncle Lestrade, Daddy coming with me to the church and Papa going to get ready at Baker Street with Jonty.

Jonty.

I don't know what I am going to do when I see Jonty again. I'll probably go all awkward and try and give him a high five or something, knowing me. There are things I need to say to my brother. Things that have gone unsaid for over three years. Things that could make or break our relationship.

My thoughts are interrupted by one of the doors opening and Dad comes out, scowling unhappily and screwing up his nose. 'I can't believe I have to wear this.'

I smirk and point at the cheerful carnation in his top pocket. 'I love that, Dad. It makes you look so...sweet.'

'You can really talk, William.' The scowl drops off my face and I glare at him, self-consciously trailing a finger over the top of my hat. 'Not my fault. I have to wear this. You got to choose your outfit.'

Dad scoffs. 'I wanted to wear what I usually wear. It is perfectly smart. But John wanted us to have a traditional wedding, not that there is anything traditional about two gay men getting married after living together for over twenty years and raising five children together. He's even wearing white, for God's Sake!'

'You like him wearing white. You say it makes him look deliciously innocent.' I say absent-mindedly.

'Yes, but when I say I like him in white, I mean like...white briefs. Or one of my white t-shirts.' I supress a shudder, instead standing up and walking over to him to redo his bowtie. It looks horrendous and Papa would never forgive me if Daddy showed up at the altar looking anything but perfect.

'How tall are you now?' he asks as I rearrange the carnation so the red flower is facing outwards. Red is Daddy's favourite colour. '6 foot 1.' I mutter. Dad sighs. 'You know, you're over an inch taller than me.'

I look down at him. I don't feel any taller than him. We look the same. 'I don't understand it. Your mother is small.'

I flinch; I dislike discussing Irene with my father; and quickly change the subject. 'Don't worry. Jonty's only five foot eight and I predict Hamish will only reach five nine at the most. Jacob will be tall, though.' I check his wrists for the cufflinks before pulling out a chair and pushing him into it. I might as well attempt to try and tidy his hair.