Pairings: Established Anduin/Khadgar, hints of other pairings
Rating/Warnings: Nothing at all.
Word Count: 1244
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Anduin and Khadgar are late to their own wedding.
Anduin and Khadgar are thirty minutes late to their own wedding.
Taria gives them fifteen before sending Callan off to find them. She’d bet the kingdom’s treasury that her brother and his mage are still in bed together and she refuses to let them waste three months of planning just because they’re horny idiots. The queen loves her brother dearly but his refusal to act according to his station drives her mad sometimes. Both men are grown adults; they can suck it up and suffer until they've said their vows.
Once Callan is out of sight, Taria stands serene by the altar and waits for her nephew to come back. This wedding will be moving forward shortly; she has the utmost faith in that even though some of the guests have started muttering, wondering if one or both of the grooms is backing out.
Anyone who has actually seen Khadgar and Anduin interact knows that isn't likely, but even a wedding isn’t entirely free from royal politics. Not when the Lion of Azeroth is marrying their kingdom's Guardian. Royal titles both and ones that come with certain expectations; expectations that Anduin and his fiancé have done their best to defy at every turn.
Indeed, neither Anduin nor Khadgar sounds particularly regal when Callan finally gets to their shared rooms. He can hear them arguing from halfway down the hallway and when he cracks open the door to take a peek, the pair is half-dressed and bickering.
“I told you that we didn't have enough time,” the mage grumbles as he does up the buttons on his waistcoat. “I said that we needed to be at the altar in ten minutes and you could kiss me afterward. But no... you just couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself.”
“Can you blame me?” Anduin replies, sounding not at all repentant. “You're fucking gorgeous, love, and I've never seen you dressed up in proper finery. You're always wearing robes and that silly towel of yours.”
“It's not a towel; it's a cloak,” the mage retorts with the long-suffering sigh of someone who has explained this exact same thing many times before. “Speaking of which, have you seen my cloak pin or the scarf thing that your sister made me wear?”
“It's a cravat, darling,” the older man chuckles. “Taria tells me that they're all the rage right now. And I think I saw them both on the end table when you were blowing me.”
“Thank you,” Khadgar tells him, grabbing both items before continuing his earlier rant. “Seriously, though, don't think that you're getting off the hook that easily. You need to make this up to me or neither of us will be getting laid tonight.”
“You're going to speak your vows with my taste still on your lips, love,” Anduin says and honestly, Callan really didn't need that image in his mind. “You can't tell me you regret that.”
“I regret being late to my own damn wedding,” Khadgar retorts but the knight can practically hear him weakening and when he looks again, the mage is smiling.
“It's not like they can start without us,” Anduin tells his fiancé, waking over to the younger man and wrapping both arms around his waist. “So why don't we make them wait a little longer? I’ll make it worth your while.”
The commander bends his head to kiss Khadgar and Callan knows that he needs to do something before they lose all their clothes again. While that view would be damn pretty, Aunt Taria will kill Callan if he doesn't get these two down to the altar soon. So the knight knocks on the door frame to announce his presence before things get out of hand.
“Aren't you supposed to be the responsible ones?” he asks with a sigh. “Being late for your own wedding is setting a bad example; you wouldn't want to taint my impressionable young mind.”
“I'm enjoying my life, son. That's the best example,” Anduin retorts but he lets go of Khadgar when his son looks at him pleadingly. “I suppose I'll have plenty of time to ravish my husband once we're married. Is my sister very mad?”
“She's doing that thing where she doesn't change expression and pretends that it's all fine,” Callan says and his father winces sharply.
“Okay. It's definitely time to go. Otherwise, we may not survive to see our honeymoon,” the warrior says, trading a glance with his fiancé. Khadgar nods his agreement – no one really wants to mess with Taria – and the pair return to dressing quickly. Anduin buttons up his own waistcoat and fixes his hair before throwing on his cloak.
Khadgar does the same, but he stalls once he gets to the cravat. The mage seems to be confused by the accessory, staring at the garment until Anduin takes it from his hands. The warrior gives his fiancé a fond grin as he loops the cravat around Khadgar's neck and ties it skillfully.
“How are you so good at that?” the younger man mutters. “I can kill a hundred orcs with a few waves of my fingers but these clothes just baffle me.”
“I've had a lot of practice,” Anduin replies with another laugh. Then he turns to Callan, opening his arms and doing a slow circle. “All right, son. How do we look?”
“Like you're ready to be married. Now come on,” the knight tells his father, waving both men toward the door impatiently.
It’s a quick walk to the church and Callan slips back into the wedding party next to Garona while Khadgar and Anduin march down the aisle hand in hand. Neither groom apologizes for the delay or bothers to explain it. The commander just says, “All right, then. Let’s do this!” like he’s marching off to war while his fiancé smiles at Taria sheepishly.
However, despite the delay and the guests’ impatience, the ceremony itself is beautiful. No one watching can deny how much Anduin and Khadgar love each other and once they're finally allowed to kiss, the two men don't stop until Llane clears his throat pointedly.
Honestly, Callan would be embarrassed by their antics if he weren't so damn used to this; half of Stormwind castle has seen those two in the buff by now. The knight is just glad to finally see his father happy and as step-parents go, he could do far worse. At least Callan gets along with Khadgar; the mage is more like an older brother than another father and it's always smart to be allied with the guy who can shoot fireballs.
So Callan just raises his glass in a toast before betting Garona that the grooms won't last an hour before running off to consummate their vows. The half-orc is sure that they won't make it twenty minutes but the knight is counting on them putting forth a little extra effort to placate Aunt Taria.
The queen probably won’t forgive Anduin for this one any time soon and Callan would hate to be in Anduin’s place at the next council meeting. But he’s not the one in trouble at the moment and the pretty lieutenant in the corner is giving him the eye. So Callan grabs another glass and walks over to make her acquaintance; if he plays this right, his father won’t be the only Lothar having fun tonight.