Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waverly flicked the volume on her headphones, letting the sound of Destiny’s Child drown out the the tones of her own singing and the hiss of her industrial steam mop as she dragged it over the tiles of the Orangery floor.

“ Question, tell me what you think about me? I buy my own diamonds and I buy my own rings…”

Waverly sang loudly, her hips rolling automatically in time to the beat as she buffed away the sticky stains of champagne, and wedding cake, and the goddamn fucking glitter that seemed to make its way into her venue daily, despite the number of times she had tried to ban the toxic product.

This was her least favourite part of her job.

She always loved the days when she got to host a wedding. 

Those were the days she had dreamed of when she'd first placed her hefty inheritance down on the old, unused Rectory, and poured her heart and her soul into turning the derelict building into a beautiful weddings and events venue.

She loved a wedding.

But she absolutely hated the cleardown the following day.

Wynonna had told her time and time again since the day she had bought this place that she really needed to hire cleaners. 

And a full time clerk.

And an assistant.

But Waverly loved her little venue, and she loved to run it alone. The Old Rectory was Waverly’s pride and joy, and for the past six years she'd been doing just fine managing the conferences and the weddings and the parties on her own. For the most part.

She had a student, Rachel, who helped her out at weekends and at the busier times around the holidays, changing the sheets and the towels in the rooms, and helping to man the little apothecary shop that sat in the venue's foyer.

And that was enough for Waverly. She liked to be busy, and she liked to be in control, and The Old Rectory fulfilled both of those desires.

“The clothes I'm wearing, I've bought it!” Waverly sang, the music blasting in her ears as she dragged the mop out of the Orangery and down the halls towards her foyer. “The rock I'm rockin', I've bought it!”

Waverly shuffled backwards down the hall, her hips gyrating and her shoulders popping with the music as she pushed her way through the swing doors and into the foyer. 

“All the women, who are independent, throw your hands up at me!”

She spun, startling immediately and dropping the mop as she was met with the amused eyes of her chocolate supplier, leaning casually against her front desk as he watched her.

Not for the first time.

“Hey, Jeremy!”

“That’s quite the message for a wedding venue to be putting out there, Miss Earp.” Jeremy grinned. “Another clean up?”

Waverly grinned sheepishly.

“Sing what you feel, right?” She shrugged.

Jeremy laughed.

“And you’re feeling particularly independent today, are you?”

“When you’re as single as I am, it helps to!” Waverly chuckled.

Jeremy grinned. Then he furrowed his brows slightly, nodding his head in the direction of the large double front doors. 

“There’s like, a whole Dothraki army of birds out in your courtyard this morning, is that normal?”

Waverly sighed.

“It’s the new eco-friendly confetti, it’s predominantly bird seed!" She shook her head, remembering the hour she'd spent that morning trying to gently coax the aviary off of her cobblestones. "Yesterday’s wedding got mad ‘cause I wouldn’t let them use glitter, and went rogue with the seed, so the yard has been absolute bird madness all morning.”

“Ah. Well, at least they’re saving you a clean up job. Unless you end up scrubbing bird shit for the next four days.” Jeremy frowned. He shuddered, turning his attention instead to the large box he carried under his arm. “Here’s your truffle boxes! How did last week’s sell?”

Waverly grinned. She couldn’t help but like Jeremy. They’d met at a wedding fair a few months before, and since then the chocolatier had been supplying her small store every week. She didn't know much about him, besides his love for praline and truffle, but his slightly awkward wit and his endearing demeanour were always a warm welcome to Waverly’s days.

“Like wildfire!" She exclaimed. "The guests love them, and I’ve had three couples this week ask for your business card for wedding favours.”

Jeremy beamed, his eyes flashing with unabashed pride.

Waverly chuckled.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” she started, honeying her voice in preparation for the favour she was about to ask. “I’m running a promotion next week for an overnight stay for newly engaged couples, and I wondered if you might be able to put something together that I can include in the package?”

“Sure!" Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. "Like a box, or like a big smash heart or something?”

“I’ll leave creative reign to you," Waverly sang. "So long as it screams romance!”

“Great." Jeremy beamed. "I’ll give you a call in the week to catch up on it?”

“Thanks, Jeremy," Waverly gushed. "You're a diamond."

Jeremy smiled widely as Waverly signed for his delivery, and pushed the tablet back over the counter toward him.

“Have a great day, Waverly.”

◇~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~◇

“And what do we think Winston’s purpose is?" 

Nicole paced slightly across the front of the class as she asked her question. 

Partly so she could keep an eye and an ear on the students across each side of the room.

But mainly, if she was really honest, to keep herself awake and alert. 

It was the end of term, and she was really beginning to wane.

She looked up, meeting nothing but silence across the small auditorium.

"His true purpose," she elaborated. "He's the only protagonist, so he's the one who tells us what to think, right? So what is he telling us?”

Nicole searched the eyes of her class, waiting for a volunteer. 

She shook her head, sighing as the small sea of glassy, disinterested stares reflected back at her.

Honestly, she couldn’t even be mad. She felt exactly the same.

"Guys, I'm so bored of the sound of my own voice, please just cut me a break here," she pleaded. “Rachel?”

Nicole knew it was unfair, really. Rachel was her best student, and so it was nothing but a lazy cop-out to call on her now, when nobody else was volunteering. But frankly, Nicole was exhausted and she just needed to make it to the end of this lesson.

And she knew Rachel would have an answer.

Even if she liked to pretend she didn't.

“Really?” Rachel groaned. “Even you don’t look awake.” 

Nicole raised an eyebrow, biting back her amusement.

“Fine!” Rachel sighed. “I think he tells us that... whether you agree with the system or whether you rebel against it, it still controls you.”

“Okay…” Nicole perked up, her pacing coming to a stop as she trained her eyes on her student. She leaned back against her desk, resting the palms of her hands behind her. She nodded. “Tell me more.”

“Big Brother made this big deal about how if you don’t love them, you’re a criminal," Rachel explained. "And what’s a criminal, if not just another part of the system, right?” 

She tapped her pen on her desk as she spoke; a habit Nicole knew she only did when she was thinking. 

Nicole smirked. 

“You’re only a criminal if the system calls you a criminal," Rachel continued. "So if a system oppresses you, and you stand up against that oppression, they’ll simply oppress you as a criminal. Either way, you're playing right into the system's hands.”

Nicole nodded, her cheeks pulling into a wide, dimpled grin.

This was why she taught.

For the students that just got it. Even if it did have to be tugged out of them.

“So what’s Orwell using him to tell us?” She asked, pushing herself up from her desk.

Rachel shrugged, slouching back into her seat indifferently.

Nicole rolled her eyes.

"Conclude please, Valdez," she smirked.

Rachel sighed.

“That we all like to think we’re heroic rebels, but the reality is that true freedom is nothing but an illusion," she finished.

Nicole nodded.

"Well, that was depressing."

“Thank you." Rachel smirked.

"But frankly I’m impressed you came up with that in the last class on the Friday before the break." Nicole grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "I’m almost certain I couldn’t have done.”

A half-hearted chuckle rang out across the class, and Nicole let her shoulders sink as she glanced at the clock.

That was quite enough of that for one term.

“Right, now that we’re all feeling really fucking miserable about our capitalist existence,” she sighed, "I think it’s time we called it a day on this and went home early.”

She smirked as the sounds of the class packing up rang out across the room before she'd even finished speaking. 

“Have a great two weeks off, everyone," she called. “Read the material for next month, but also please just enjoy yourselves while you can because shit gets really hard from here on out.”

Nicole sank back into her desk chair as her class filed out. She groaned, her eyes roaming over the pile of marking she had to complete before the end of the break.

And frankly, the moment she left this building, she didn't want to even think about another book for at least a week.

If she worked really hard, she could get this done and dusted by seven, and then she could go home, put her sweats on, order pizza, and not move for fourteen days.

Seemed worth the slog.

She pulled the pile towards her.

◇~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~◇

Waverly thanked the restaurant host as he took her coat, leading her through the bustling hub to the large table in the back left corner that they always sat at. 

Waverly hated this table.

Dinner with Waverly’s friends was always such a couple-fest, and Waverly hated being the only single one at a table that was always laid out for eight. And no matter where she sat, Waverly always seemed to end up beside an empty space.

Even, in fact, when she hadn’t been single. 

Champ had never bothered to fill that particular gap.

At least this time she wouldn't have to defend her deadbeat ex-boyfriend's shitty excuses for refusing to put on pants and leave his X-Box behind for a few hours for the sake of Waverly’s social life.

She grinned as she reached the table, and Chrissy and Perry, and Kate and Mercedes sang out their greetings. 

“No Champ tonight?” Chrissy murmured as Waverly sat down beside her.

Waverly groaned.

"Chrissy, I swear I've told you almost as many times as I told him that we are not together anymore!" She furrowed her brow. "It's been months."

Chrissy grimaced.

"Shit, sorry! You were on and off for so long I can't keep up," she winced, her eyes apologetic. "Blame the pregnancy brain?"

Waverly softened.

"How is little Bump?"

"Wriggling like a rodeo champ!" Chrissy exclaimed, her hands moving instinctively to her stomach. "She keeps me up all night most nights."

"Awh babe, when she's born, I'll take all the night shifts to even out the playing field." Perry grinned, leaning down to give his wife a kiss.

Waverly chuckled, her chest warming at the sight. Chrissy was positively glowing, and she loved to see her childhood friend so happy.

"Nice of you to join us, ladies," Mercedes called, waving across the restaurant, and Waverly turned her head in the direction of her gaze.

She grinned.

Her sister was always a whirlwind, but never more so than when she and Rosita arrived late for their dinners.

Wynonna’s hair was visibly more tousled than usual, and Rosita’s shirt was buttoned so skew-whiff that it was like she wasn't even trying.

"Sorry, we got held up with the…" Wynonna started, waving her hand in the air as she searched half-heartedly for an excuse.

"Real Estate Agent…" Rosita filled.

"Wedding planner…" Wynonna finished. 

At the same time.

"Oh right?" Mercedes quirked an eyebrow, her tone deliberately teasing. "Your Real Estate Agent marrying you guys now, is she?"

"Fuck off," Wynonna grumbled, nudging Mercedes sharply with her shoulder as she sat down beside her.

"Look, can't a girl fuck her fiancée every once in a while without getting the third degree?" Rosita scowled, her lips quirking in a smirk that betrayed her amusement.

Waverly grimaced.

Mercedes grinned, holding her hands up in mock apology.

"How's the house coming, Wy?" Waverly interjected. Anything to move the conversation along from her sister’s sex life. "Got a completion date yet?"

"It's looking a lot like we'll be moving in the week after the wedding!" Wynonna replied.

Waverly’s stomach flipped as her sister grinned, and the piercing blue eyes she knew so well flashed with something she'd only ever seen recently.

True excitement. True contentment. True, genuine happiness.

Waverly beamed.

She sat back, listening intently as Wynonna and Rosita filled the group in on their house purchase, and on their wedding plans. She listened excitedly as Chrissy and Perry talked them through their latest scan appointment, and the colours they'd chosen for their nursery.

She listened, she asked questions, and she engaged.

But her stomach clenched, the feelings of euphoria that she felt for her friends and her sister always accompanied lately by that one, selfish dark cloud.

The one shaped like her own shortcomings.

Waverly loved to watch her friends and her sister find their happiness. It had given her unimaginable joy to watch Wynonna fall in love, and to watch Chrissy and Perry marry and start their lives together, and to see Mercedes find someone who matched every ounce of her crazy.

But lately it had always come tainted with the nauseating feeling that she was being left behind.

Once upon a time these dinners had revolved around tales of drunken hookups, and disorderly arrests, and who had the latest meaningless tattoo. Then they had morphed, and they'd become about careers, and projects, and aspirations, and new romances. And Waverly had been right there with them.

But now the conversations revolved always around weddings, and babies, and forever homes, and whilst Waverly could hold her own in a wedding talk from a venue owner's perspective, she had no personal experience in any of those things. And she was absolutely nowhere near gaining any.

And so whilst she wouldn't change a thing for her friends, she couldn't help but feel like she'd been left paddling while the others sailed ahead. And she hated the bitter taste it left in her mouth.

The conversation fell short, the whole restaurant falling to a hush as the lights dimmed unexpectedly, leaving a low glow of reddish light from the wall lanterns around the edges of the room.

Waverly craned her neck, searching the room for the cause.

A birthday, maybe? A cake being brought out?

She searched the faces of strangers in the low light, looking for clues. Looking for someone expectant, or nervous, or hesitant.

Until the soft notes of a familiar acoustic guitar tune began to play from the speakers along the restaurant walls, and a loud gasp of surprise rang from her own table.

Waverly snapped her head back round just in time to catch Kate drop to one knee.

"Oh my god, what are you doing?" Mercedes gasped.

"Mercedes Gardener…" Kate began.

Waverly's breath caught in her throat, her jaw dropping heavily. 

She had not seen this coming.

"You are the sassiest, fiercest, baddest bitch I've ever met, and I've met some damn fine women in my time." Kate grinned as Mercedes laughed. "You and I are an unstoppable force, with an unbreakable bond, and I really think it's only right that we make that bond official."

Waverly chuckled. She felt the first prickle of tears burn at Kate's choice of words, and the contrast in the softness in both of their eyes that said all the things that those words didn’t.

This was what Waverly needed.

Someone who just got her. Someone who loved her for all she was, and wasn't afraid to embrace her flaws and love those too.

"So, what do you say baby?" Kate grinned, pulling back the lid of the small ring box in her hand. "Will you marry me?"

Mercedes squealed.

"Yes!" 

Waverly whooped as Kate stood, and Mercedes pulled her into a kiss.

The restaurant rang out around them with the sound of cheers, and whistles, and applause, and a few uncontrollable sobs from somewhere behind them that Waverly didn't even want to think about.

The lights brightened once more, and the waiters were on them almost immediately, with the pop of a champagne bottle, and the clink of glasses.

"A toast!" Waverly called, raising her glass. "To Mercedes and Kate!"

"To Chrissy and Perry and baby Bump!" Mercedes cheered, clinking her glass into the centre of the table.

"To Wynonna and Rosita and their Real Estate Agent come Wedding Planner." Chrissy grinned, winking as Rosita scowled.

"To Waverly, and…" Wynonna trailed off, her eyes widening in panic as she visibly fought for a plausible end to that sentence.

Waverly’s heart sank.

She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and the dark cloud grew just a little heavier. She found herself wishing for the first time, that it would just lift her up and whisk her away.

She was so happy for Mercedes and Kate. Of course she was.

But she had never felt so swallowed up as she did in that moment. 

She was well and truly on the outskirts of the world her friends lived in, and the things in her own life were losing traction. Losing importance.

There was no toast for her. Not when everyone else was moving forward.

"To Waverly," Wynonna cheered, her eyes flashing with relief as she found her words.

Waverly held her breath.

"And her amazing venue, that we will all get married in!"

◇~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~◇

"Hey, Jer!" Nicole called as the front door slammed, and her roommate appeared in the doorway of the living room. "Good day?"

Jeremy grimaced, letting his eyes drop over Nicole’s dishevelled shirt, half-pulled tie, and unbuttoned slacks as the redhead lounged back against the couch.

"Have you moved since you got home?"

"Yeah…" Nicole shrugged. "I got snacks. Answered the door to the pizza guy."

"Dude, I know it's been a long term and teachers need their rest and all that, but it's Friday night!" Jeremy exclaimed, dropping a box of chocolates onto the coffee table, as he did every night. "Don't you have anything better to be doing?"

"Literally, no." Nicole’s eyes widened, her mouth watering as she caught sight of the label on the box. "Oh shit, are those your orange creme pralines?"

She lunged forward, grabbing shamelessly at the box. She didn't even have the energy to feel embarrassed at the cloud of Cheeto dust that billowed from her shirt in the process.

Jeremy wrinkled his nose.

"Oh my god, go to a bar!"

Nicole threw a chocolate into the air, catching it effortlessly in her mouth.

"What, and bump into every one of my students with a valid ID? And some without." She mumbled, her words muffled around her mouthful of chocolate. "Hard pass."

"You're an English Literature professor, your students are all at home reading Wuthering Heights and crying into their herbal teas," Jeremy argued.

Nicole smirked.

"You have a fundamental misunderstanding of today's youth, Chetri." 

Jeremy shook his head, grinning as he flopped down beside Nicole and grabbed a slice of her pizza.

"Just one time in my basic little chocolatier life, I would love to bring you home a box of these and for you to say 'perfect, Jer, my hot date tonight will love these', instead of throwing them into the air like a Lynx Africa teenager and catching them in your own cheeto-painted face!"

"Excuse me," Nicole scoffed. "I date."

"You literally do not."

"What?" Nicole retorted. "Bullshit, there was…"

She trailed off.

She furrowed her brows, her cheeks tinting with the first threat of a blush as she searched her hazy memories for the last time she actually did date.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

"Mattie?" Nicole murmured sheepishly.

"That was fourteen months ago!"

"Are you counting?"

"Nicole," Jeremy sighed. "You're smart, you're sweet, you're funny, you're sexy when you're not…" 

Nicole raised an eyebrow.

Jeremy waved his hand in Nicole’s general direction, and frankly Nicole had to admit he had a point.

She threw another chocolate into her mouth.

Just for the defiance, really.

"Thanks," she mumbled deliberately through her mouthful, grinning when Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"But you are way too fussy, and way too complacent," Jeremy scolded. "You need a life, my friend."

"Oh fuck off," Nicole scoffed. "You're sat right here with me on a Friday night, eating my pizza, and I know you're not about to walk away from Pitch Perfect 2 right now."

Jeremy grumbled wordlessly, sinking back into the couch as he took a bite of his pizza.

Nicole smirked, nudging him with her shoulder.

As much as she enjoyed the back and forth, she was loath to admit that her friend was right. She hadn’t dated since her divorce two years ago, and she knew she had made a full zero effort to do anything about it.

It was definitely not for lack of attention. 

Nicole was well aware that, for reasons she couldn't entirely comprehend, women simply flocked to her like ants to a melted popsicle.

She was no stranger to a brief flirtatious interaction in a park, or a coffee shop, or the library in the college when Miss Pierce was working, but it had just been a long time since she had found anyone she was interested in beyond three minutes of fluttering eyelashes. 

She didn't know why.

It wasn't like it was a conscious thing. She just didn’t feel it. She wanted butterflies. And goosebumps. She wanted someone to see her and not just her dimples and her well practised smirk.

And that just hadn't happened.

She blinked, her thoughts broken by the bright light of Jeremy’s phone screen as he pushed it in front of her face.

She squinted, pulling back in an effort to read the words on the screen.

She balked.

"Absolutely not."

"Why, Nicole?" Jeremy whined. "It's just a dating site! Just humour me?"

"Because this is all just window shopping." Nicole pushed the phone away. "You can't possibly tell if you want to date someone from two painstakingly chosen photos and a poorly grammaticised bio."

"But that's why you then meet people!" Jeremy argued.

Nicole shook her head.

"It's too late then! You're stuck on a date with someone you knew after three minutes wasn't for you, and you're left with an awkward three hours and a bill you feel guiltily obliged to pay 'cause you know you'll never call them back."

"This right here is your problem," Jeremy sat forward, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at his roommate.

Nicole narrowed her eyes.

"Three minutes?" Jeremy exclaimed. "You’re writing women off in three minutes?"

"I'm telling you, that's how long it takes!"

"Bullshit."

"Three minutes," Nicole repeated. "Three minutes to tell someone's mannerism, their tone of voice, the look in their eyes, and whether their chemistry matches mine."

Jeremy shook his head.

Nicole nodded hers.

"It's fact," she stated. "Three minutes."

Jeremy sighed.

"You're gonna grow old alone, Haught."